Masquerades - Kate Novak [66]
The entrance hall was abuzz with people coming and going-the watch, messengers, servants dressed in the livery of their respective noble houses, local petitioners and foreign merchants waiting to speak with the nobles, and, on occasion, an individual whose wealthy garb and wake of bodyguards, supporters, and supplicants indicated a member of a noble family. Only nobles and their parties were allowed to pass through the second portcullis unchallenged. All others seemed to be required to register their name and business at a desk stationed with three watch officers before being told to wait or go ahead. There was a long line before the desk.
Alias took her place in line behind a woman dressed in the full crimson regalia of a Red Wizard of Thay, who was speaking in hushed tones with a dwarven mercenary dressed in black. Two Turmish merchants, complaining in their native tongue about some tariff, took their place behind her.
The swordswoman wondered uncertainly if she might not be wasting her time. While she really wanted to be sure the Night Mask swordsman was sentenced severely, Durgar might get officious on her and refuse to discuss
his prisoner. He might even be too busy to see her. Just as she considered stepping out of the line, a member of the watch came up to her-the first female member she'd seen.
"Alias the Sell-Sword?" the guard asked. "Yes," Alias said with a nod.
"I'm Rizzi, Ma'am. I'm to fetch you up to the croamarkh."
"Actually," Alias explained, "I've come to see Durgar."
"He's with the croamarkh. Ma'am. Please, follow me." Alias did as requested, glad at least to be free of waiting in line.
As she stepped through the entrance into the main section of the keep, someone going the other way slammed into her, hard, jamming his elbow into her side. More surprised than harmed, Alias retreated back two steps and instinctively checked for her money pouch.
A short but powerfully built, scar-faced man with annoyingly familiar, but unplaceable features stood before her. He was dressed all in gold and black, with a huge black opal set in a medallion around his neck.
"Terribly sorry," the man snarled, his eyes glittering with undisguised hatred. "You had better be more careful," he added. It was the most threatening apology Alias had ever heard.
With a sense of confusion, the swordswoman watched the man and his entourage stream out of the tower until Rizzi touched her shoulder and whispered, "Ma'am?"
Alias turned and followed the guard across the vast, open hall on the first floor of the tower and up one of the two staircases that climbed along the outer wall. What, she wondered, did the croamarkh want? Merely a congratulatory meeting? Considering the croamarkh's emphasis on performance, that was unlikely. Perhaps some command for special protection of some place or thing. The swordswoman studied her escort for a moment before asking, "What's going on?"
Rizzi shook her head. "Better you should speak with the croamarkh, Ma'am." At the top of the first flight of stairs there was a curved hallway with a doorway at each
end and a third along the inner curve. Two of the doors were solid oak, but the one at the far end of the corridor was oak carved with dragons and stiff-limbed elves. Rizzi led her to the more ornate door and knocked softly. Durgar opened the door, and, upon seeing Alias, motioned the swordswoman through the door. The priest dismissed Rizzi with a quick nod and closed the door.
The room was a meeting suite decorated in neutral colors. Consequently, while everything was impeccably matched and well built, the room hadn't the least hint of creativity. The rugs on the oaken floor were a mottled black, gray, and white. The pattern woven into the tapestries covering the walls was a repeating abstract in cream, tan, and brown. No one's mind was likely to wander staring at the floors or walls. The round oaken table, was covered with a white cloth and surrounded by twelve oaken chairs padded with white cushions. The chairs were