Masquerades - Kate Novak [145]
More importantly, without more information, she couldn't really assess the extent of Victor's guilt. He might not have anything to do with Alias's death. The swordswoman was, after all, always taking risks. The Night Masters might have destroyed her whether or not Victor Dhostar was a nice guy. Victor could just be a selfish, power-hungry jerk who'd used Alias. The world was full of them. Olive fumed whenever she thought of the way he'd carried off the swordswoman's arm, as if he owned it. Victor Dhostar was definitely one more reason to drink.
A pottery mug of Dragon's Bite hovered at eye level, carried by a slim female halfling about half Olive's age. The younger woman was dressed like a Luiren schoolteacher, in a long, black divided skirt and a starched white blouse buttoned tight at the wrists and to the top of its high collar. Her reddish blonde hair was twisted into a severe bun at the back of her head. She wore a bitter, no-nonsense expression on her severely angular face, which Olive thought might actually stop a beholder in its tracks, if beholders could leave tracks.
"You're drinking too much," the younger halfling said, setting the mug down none too gently. She sat down at the table across from Olive.
"Never would have guessed," Olive snarled, taking a long pull on the fresh mug. She glared across the table at the new arrival until it became clear that her guest was not going to politely evaporate. "Was there a shift change? Are you my new waitress?" she asked.
"I'm not a waitress," the newcomer informed her. "You're Olive Ruskettle," she said, not really questioning, but not quite certain either.
"Maybe," Olive muttered.
"And you're employed by House Thalavar."
"Maybe," Olive said with a sigh. She took another gulp of her drink.
"And you were a friend of Alias of the Inner Sea," said the other halfling.
Olive slammed her mug down hard. "What in the Abyss do you want, child?"
The other halfling blinked for a moment, as if shocked by Olive's outburst. Finally, she replied, "My name is Winterhart. I met Alias last summer in the Dalelands. I understand she is dead, and you were her friend. Please accept my condolences. I am also seeking employment. I've spent most of my days as an adventuress, so I have little experience as a servant, but Alias said I could use her as a reference. Does House Thalavar have use for a capable halfling?"
Olive seethed silently. The friend-of-the-dead trick was an old halfling con. She was insulted that someone thought she was good enough to play it using Alias's name, and insulted that anyone thought her fool enough to fall for it. "You were a friend of Alias, too, hmm?"
"We met and talked," Winterhart responded calmly. "I -was impressed by her. I am truly sorry she is dead."
Well, Olive thought, at least she's smart enough not to claim that Alias was an old friend from way back. Aloud she asked, "And you knew her from the Dalelands?"
"Yes." Winterhart's head bobbed just a tad.
"Then you know what song she first sang in the taproom of the Old Skull Inn," Olive said offhandedly.
"It was The Standing Stone," Winterhart said, displaying the first trace of a smile, "an old elven tune with words by Finder Wyvernspur, the Nameless Bard. That was an easy one. Want to ask what her favorite color was?"
"Her favorite color was blue," Olive lied, waiting for Winterhart to take the bait.
"Red," Winterhart corrected. "Blue reminded her of her tattoo, which she thought of as a symbol of her previous enslavement. Shall I tell you how she first met Elminster,