Masquerades - Kate Novak [8]
All of the shops on the ground floor were shuttered and locked tight, but there were a number of small lights in the upper stories-constellations of candles, lanterns, and the occasional magical light stone.
"There," Alias announced in an awestruck tone, as if she had discovered the lost city of Shandaular.
She pointed to a small, two-story building sandwiched between a stable and a dressmaker's establishment. According to a weathered old sign over the door, the shop on the first floor specialized in second-hand clothing. The original proprietor's name had been painted over, but no new moniker had been posted to take its place.
"Very nice," Dragonbait said, as gently as he could muster, "We'd better be going, though."
Alias scowled, "You don't understand. I was born here. I grew up here. I have memories of this place."
Dragonbait sighed, "I know, but they're memories sung into you by Finder. You were never here, really here, before tonight. If you'd like, we can come back tomorrow when its light and ask if anyone here knew Finder. I think for now, though, we'd better-"
Dragonbait's words were cut short as the front door of the shop smashed open and three humans barged out of the building-a man and a woman both with slight frames and close-cropped hair and a second man large enough to be a bouncer at a very rough bar. All three wore domino masks and were dressed in velvet dyed a black so deep that it absorbed light, as if they were chunks of the Abyss loose in the Realms. The big man carried a blazing torch. The smaller man banged a nail into the doorjamb. The woman hung a black domino mask on the nail, then nodded curtly at the big man. The big man flung his torch through the doorway, back into the building.
The black-garbed woman shouted up at the houses all around, "Jamal is marked!" then all three figures dashed down the street.
Alias raced forward and started to shout, "Fire! Bring water!" but her words were lost to the boom of a great explosion. The entire front of the store bulged outward, then tore loose in a gout of flame, knocking Alias and Dragonbait to the ground and covering them with burning rags.
Two
Victims of the Fire
Alias staggered to her feet. The smell of burning cloth, mingled with a complicated mixture of odors from Dragonbait, stung her nostrils. The saurial stood beside her, apparently unscathed, emitting the scents of brimstone and violets, then baked bread and ham, as his confusion and fear gave way to anger and worry. He stood before her, holding his hands on her shoulders, but it was several moments before she realized by the occasional clicking of his tongue that he was speaking to her. She'd been partially deafened by the blast.
Uncertain whether the saurial's hearing was any better than her own, the swordswoman signed with her hands, I'll be all right. We have to help the people inside.
She lurched toward the flame, then took a second step. By the third stride she had shaken off most of the bone-jarring effects of the blast, and by the fourth she was running into the blazing shop, Dragonbait hot on her heels.
Most of the planking that made up the front wall of the shop and the shutter that had covered the shop's front window lay smoldering in the street, while the frame that remained standing blazed ferociously. Alias plunged though the wreath of flame about the doorway and paused a moment in the foyer. The entrance matched her "memory." The door on the right led to the clothing shop, now an inferno of burning cloth. A few feet beyond the shop door was the staircase to the apartments above; the staircase handrail was draped with fiery clothing, and the steps gleamed with burning oil.
Dragonbait stood in the doorway on the right, peering into the shop. Alias signed. Don't go in there, it's too dangerous, but the paladin signed back, Someone's