Masquerades - Kate Novak [41]
The old man released the horses as Victor snapped the reins. The carriage started down the street at a brisk pace. Although they were crowded and the ride was somewhat bumpier than the one they'd experienced in the croamarkh's carriage, the adventurers felt much more relaxed in Victor's company, and therefore cheerier.
"I have other duties I must return to soon, but perhaps, if you haven't made other plans," Victor said, as cautious as a man creeping up on a sleeping beholder, "we could have dinner together."
"Dinner? What sort of dinner?" Alias asked. "Nothing formal like a banquet or anything," Victor explained. "Just soup and sandwiches while we discussed strategy. You, me, and Dragonbait if you wish. We can
talk about where to start making your assault on the Night Masks. I've been keeping track of some of their crimes, the ones that are reported, anyway. They hardly ever hit near the market surrounding the Tower, for fear, I presume, of the watch, but I've noticed of late they've been preying more heavily on the Gateside district. Whoa!" Victor pulled the horses up sharply as he turned the curve onto Westgate Market Street.
A crowd of people jammed the street. People on foot could negotiate through, but not the carriage. There were already two closed carriages and a dragon cart loaded with kegs of ale stopped in the traffic as the high-strung carriage horses and huge-but-gentle draft horses balked at pressing further into the mass of people. As Victor began backing the carriage so that he could take it down a side street, Alias and Dragonbait peered ahead to discover the reason for the gathering.
The crowd, it turned out, was an audience. In the plaza in front of the House of the Wheel, the local temple of Gond, was a street theater troupe performing atop the temple stairs.
"It's Jamal's troupe," the paladin said.
"Are you sure?" Alias asked. "I don't see her."
Dragonbait nodded.
Alias laid her hand on Victor's arm. "I know you have to get back to your business, but do you mind very much if we stay and watch this?"
"There's a novel idea," the young merchant said with amusement. He eased the horses forward, nudging people aside until the carriage was only thirty feet from the stairs. Dragonbait stood on the carriage step and Alias and Victor made themselves comfortable. Looming over the heads of the other spectators, the three had an excellent view of the performance.
The performers included actors and puppeteers and musicians. At center stage stood an actor in a black cloak and a floppy black hat with a veil of coins hanging from the hat's brim. All about the actor puppeteers pushed and pulled on sticks to manipulate the limbs and heads of life-sized puppets. In the eastern style of puppeteering,
the puppeteers wore white garbs and hoods and remained on the stage with their charges. A man seated to one side strummed on a yarting. He was accompanied by three youths, two boys and a girl, with a collection of percussion instruments and noisemakers.
A hawk puppet made of black felt, with a droopy beak and sad, bloodshot eyes, fluttered to center stage and perched in a nest mounted on the shoulder of one of the puppeteers. The corn-veiled actor held out a hand in front of the hawk. The puppet coughed, and coins popped out of its mouth into the actor's waiting hand. When the corns stopped coming, the actor rapped the hawk puppet with a wooden stick. The stick was split at one end so it would make a satisfying whackwithout really dealing any damage. The hawk puppet's eyes rolled about in its head to the sound of the yarting being struck on the side. Then the hawk began coughing up more corns. Each time it stopped, the actor rapped it and its eyes rolled and the yarting thrummed. The crowd burst out in laughter and hooting jibes.
"I don't understand," Alias said as Victor chuckled beside her.
"The actor in the coin hat," Victor whispered, "represents the Faceless-"
"The Night