Masquerades - Kate Novak [1]
Alias's hand slid down beneath her cape to her own scabbard, reassuring herself that her sword and Dragonbait's weapon were both within reach. She wore chain mail over her tunic, plate protectors over her leggings, arms and shoulders, and an iron collar about her throat. Even without the armor, though, there was no mistaking she was anything but a swordswoman. Her attractive figure was muscled from years of drilling for combat, trekking about in heavy armor, and battling monstrous foes. She wore her bright red hair cropped short, and her green eyes were constantly shifting about, alert to any and all possible dangers. "The word is woolgathering," she corrected her companion.
Two passing pedestrians turned their heads to see if she was talking to herself, for Dragonbait had spoken in Saurial, a tongue too high-pitched for the normal human ear, while Alias had replied in the ordinary Common language of the Realms. A magic spell gave her the ability to hear and understand the saurial's "voice," and even speak it, but only a decade of comradeship allowed her to pick up the nuances of the accessory scents, clicks, and postures that conveyed his mood and tone. Other reptilian creatures, such as dragons and lizard men, still often understood him more swiftly and completely than she did.
Conversely, the more subtle nuances of her language often eluded the saurial. "Isn't wool the fur of sheep?" he asked.
"Yes, but you have to say woolgathering," she replied. "Why?"
Alias shrugged. "Maybe something to do with counting sheep before you go to sleep."
Dragonbait nodded at the wisdom of tallying a herd before resting, but still couldn't understand what that had to do with daydreaming.
"Actually," Alias countered before her companion could distract her further, "I was not woolgathering about courtship. I was thinking about how foolish those youngsters are. Look at them, oblivious to the world."
"Their eyes are for each other," Dragonbait whistled, and Alias caught a whiff of rose and honeysuckle-sort of a saurial sigh. He was thinking, she realized, of CopperBloom, his mate who had remained behind in the Lost Vale with their children. Alias also knew that the paladin had agreed to adventure so far south with her only because their mission was for the good of the saurial tribe.
"For each other, yes," Alias grumbled, "not for the world around them, or for their change-purses. They're oblivious to how long I or anyone else may have been staring at them. Splashing water in the fountain would drown out any sound of approaching footsteps. They're sitting ducks for any purse-snatcher, pickpocket, or grifter that happens by."
"They should be fairly safe," Dragonbait argued, puzzled by her assessment of the dangers. "They are in the middle of a city with lots of people around. And surely they have friends nearby."
Alias gave a derisive grin and snort, "We are in the middle of Westgate, my friend. Crime is this town's hobby, vocation, and major export. Didn't you read the sign at the port entrance-'Welcome to Westgate, Home of the Deadly Night Masks?"
"I saw no such welcome sign," Dragonbait stated.
"I'm joking, Dragonbait. Remember humor?"
"I do not understand the humor. Maybe because I'm saurial."
Alias shook her head. She switched to the Saurial tongue, "Or maybe because you're a paladin," she suggested. "Haven't met the paladin yet who could catch a joke on the first bounce."
"How many paladins have you met besides me?" the saurial asked.
Evading the question, Alias declared, "We should get going. The sooner we find this sage Mintassan, the sooner we can unload that staff and escape this wretched city."
Dragonbait nodded in agreement. The saurial wizard Grypht had arranged for them to meet the sage Mintassan and exchange the staff for a scrying device to help protect the saurials