Masquerades - Kate Novak [32]
"Bleak and empty, a cold rain drizzling on an abandoned keep. Strong and very, very proud," Dragonbait replied.
Victor, unable to hear the high-pitched tones of the adventurers' conversation in Saurial, stood before them grinning, waiting for Alias to speak. After a moment, he ran his fingers nervously through his hair, pushing it
back off his forehead, and spoke up. "Well, I have my orders. Do you mind if we walk while we talk? I have to look over some ships that have come in for inspection."
"Fine," Alias said, following the man from beneath the canopy. The three walked along the broad stone quay, in the direction of the lighthouse that stood at the mouth of the harbor.
Victor began brightly, "The Night Masks have been a thorn in Westgate's side for, oh, fifteen years, at least. Most people consider them part of the price of doing business here, but the croamarkh is a man of law and justice. He wants the citizens of Westgate freed from the tyranny of their lawlessness."
"Yes," Alias said, "I can see he's frantic with worry for them."
"I beg your pardon?" Victor said.
"Luer Dhostar is a merchant. His first concern is that his books show a healthy balance. Now that that balance is so obscenely huge, there's no challenge to his work, and, not content with being the bane of the dance floor or the dessert table, he takes on the mission of proving his greatness. He keeps a carriage large enough to house a halfling family. He hangs over customs workers, demonstrating he's more competent than they in a job he couldn't stomach for a week. He tries to hire professionals to do away with a thieves guild he tolerated for his first three terms because nowthey are an embarrassment. Their continued unchallenged activity proves they have more power than he. He has no more concern for the people of Westgate than the Night Masks do."
Victor was stunned into a momentary silence. When he spoke again, though, his tone was fervent. "You're wrong. Father cares verymuch for the people of Westgate, as do I. He just has a hard time showing it."
"Very diplomatic," Dragonbait chided Alias in Saurial. "You've just insulted your new employer to his son."
Alias closed her eyes and stated the now obvious, "You're his son."
The young man bowed low. "Victor Dhostar, scion of House Dhostar, heir to Croamarkh Luer Dhostar, bane-in-training of the dance floor and the dessert table, at your service."
Alias felt a paralyzing blush climb to her face.
Dragonbait gave her an order in Saurial.
"How do you do, Your Lordship?" Alias said, repeating, like a puppet, the phrases the paladin fed to her. "I'm Alias, and this is my companion, Dragonbait. Dragonbait begs that you forget this swordswoman's foolish gaff."
"What gaff?" Victor asked with a smile. Then he was serious once again. "It is true, some of what you say. We are concerned with our books' balances, and Father does like to show off, but we merchants aren't all heartless. Just as I'm sure there are some compassionate sell-swords."
"Touche," Alias conceded the young merchant the point.
"It is true that the, merchant families have tolerated the Night Masks too long," Victor said with an apologetic tone. "Some of the families, or to be more accurate, some members of some families, find organized criminals useful. Sort of a shadow government that keeps the more powerful families in check and allows the lesser merchants a leg up with illegal business dealings. All the families use them to handle business they would rather not sully their hands with, or pay to keep them away from their doors."
"Does that include House Dhostar?" Alias asked.
"Hardly," Victor laughed. "The first time the Night Masks demanded protection money from House Dhostar-that would have been at least fourteen years ago, when Father was serving his first term as croamarkh-well, Father threatened all-out war in the streets. To hear Father tell it, he was prepared to torch his warehouses