Masquerades - Kate Novak [125]
"That's Lord Victor's carriage," Alias announced, snatching up her porcelain mask. Her gown rustled as she swept toward the door in a most unladylike dash.
It was too late to say anything more, the paladin realized, picking up his own feathery mask. The timing was all wrong. She would not hear it anyway. Although she had made no admission, it was clear to him that she loved Victor Dhostar.
"Come on," Alias chided from the hallway. "I don't want to keep him waiting."
Dragonbait followed his companion from the room.
Victor stood at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at Alias with delight written all over his face. Was it possible, the saurial wondered, that the merchant's pleasure could be a ruse? With his shen sight, the paladin studied the man as he bowed low before Alias. Once more he saw nothing
but the cool blue flame that symbolized virtue. Dragonbait shook himself. It was entirely possible that Olive was wrong and that Victor was everything he appeared. The paladin descended the stairs, determined to make no more judgments until he'd heard what the merchant noble had to say about the key and his father.
Victor made a polite, although less dramatic, bow to greet Dragonbait. From the corner of his eye the paladin caught sight of Jamal in the shadow of a pillar. She winked conspiratorially at the paladin as Victor ushered his guests out of the hotel.
From the anteroom behind the actress, a small voice noted, They've dressed alike."
Jamal turned to face the little half-elven servant girl, Mercy. "Pardon?" the woman asked.
"Lord Victor and Mistress Alias," the girl explained. "The fabric of the sash about his waist is the same as her baldric-the same diamond design. And his tunic is dark red velvet, too. A darker shade than Mistress Alias's gown, but close. He has her favor on his tunic, too."
"Her favor?"
"She gave him a lock of her hair the other night. I saw her cut it off. I was watching from my window," Mercy admitted. "It was so romantic."
Jamal frowned. "It looked romantic. That's not always the same as being romantic," she muttered.
"No, Ma'am," the girl replied, too well trained to argue. She scurried off to avoid any further disagreeable comments. The aging actress leaned back against the pillar, realizing she must sound like an ill-tempered old maid. It was a curse, knowing so much. It made it impossible for her to suspend her disbelief and accept a fairy-tale romance as fact. Westgate nobles did not court for love, and they certainly did not court commoners. What was Victor Dhostar up to? she wondered.
*****
The ride to the Tower, where the ball was to be held, was brief but lively. Victor steered the carriage skillfully
through streets full of people apparently gathered to watch the pageantry of the nobles in their splendor. The crowds recognized not only Lord Victor but Alias as well, and cheers and shouts greeted them all the way to the market. Still, Alias felt compelled by Dragonbait's dour look to lean over and ask the merchant noble, "Have you spoken with your father?"
Victor nodded and returned a wave to a gathering in an outdoor cafe. "I'll tell you about it later, in private."
The watch was posted around the perimeter of the market, allowing only those who had an invitation to the ball to approach. Victor pulled his carriage up to the edge of the green. A member of the watch in buffed leather armor and a white capelet with a white plume jutting from his helmet helped Alias down from the carriage. Victor's elderly driver stepped up from the green to take the horses' reins from his master and move the carriage out of the way of newer arrivals.
Lord Victor donned his mask, a mere strip of red velvet with eyeholes bordered with gold stitching. Alias and Dragonbait did likewise, then their host led them up a path covered with ornate carpets. The market had been cleared of its mercantile trappings, leaving the crowds