Masquerades - Kate Novak [99]
Melman flinched, and he licked his lips nervously. "Try to understand," the man pleaded. "If this is my punishment for arguing," the vintner pointed to his face again, "imagine what will happen if I betray them."
At a nod from Alias, Dragonbait stepped forward. He spread his clawed fingers to touch the perimeters of Melman's shocking wound. At first the vintner shrunk back, but when it became clear that the saurial was not attacking him, he relaxed considerably. The paladin's whispered prayer invoked the same healing blue aura over his hands as ever, but the blue light seemed to spark and dissolve as it formed. Melman's face remained as damaged as before.
The saurial looked at Alias and growled and clicked, "There is some evil force preventing the healing. I've never encountered anything like it."
"Is that what happened when the priestess of Mask tried to heal you?" Alias asked Melman.
The man nodded. "He said it wouldn't heal until it scabbed over."
"He who? The Faceless?"
Melman nodded.
Alias felt her stomach twist with excitement. An admis-
sion of the Faceless's existence was a major concession from the man. Now if she could just press her advantage.
"So basically the Faceless has made it impossible for you to leave your home for the next several days," Alias pointed out. "In the meantime, you're a sitting duck."
Melman did not reply.
"You didn't think we were burglars when you spotted us, did you? You thought we might be Night Masks assassins," the swordswoman guessed.
"That's ridiculous," Melman retorted, but without much conviction.
"Is it? I don't think so. This is the deal, Master Melman. You tell us all you know about the Faceless and the Night Masters, and if you're telling the truth, I'll help you escape from Westgate."
Dragonbait radiated the scent of his displeasure with this idea, but he said nothing, instead shifting toward the window.
"You hold out on us, though, Melman, and I'm going to have to leave your fate to Durgar's discretion."
Melman shuddered. "I'll-I'll tell you what I can," he said.
"Good. Let's start with you. Are you one of the Night Masters?" the swordswoman asked.
Melman nodded wordlessly.
"Why did the Faceless brand you?"
"I argued with him in council. I wanted you killed, but he insists he has some other plan to take care of you. He's playing some bizarre power game that's liable to ruin business for good. None of us have any idea who or what he might be."
At Alias's prodding, Melman described the last several meetings of the Night Masters, highlighting the parts of the discussion that dwelt on her and Jamal. As he began covering the details, Melman began to relax, until finally it was as if he were sitting with other merchants in the bar, chatting about business.
"The Night Masters report to the Faceless every other evening," Melman explained, "always at low tide. The entrance to the hideout is on the western bank of the
Thunn, beneath the River Bridge. It's covered at high tide. It's hidden by magic, but if you have the key, you can see through the illusion."
Melman reached into his shirt. Alias raised her sword just an inch. The Night Master gave her an uneasy smile and pulled out a chain around his neck. Hanging from the chain was an iron key with a circular grip. He held out the key, and Olive took it from him.
"You look through the grip," the Night Mask explained, "and you can see the door. The tide is just turning now. You won't be able to see the door until tomorrow afternoon. The next meeting of the Night Masters won't be until tomorrow night-"
"Alias," Dragonbait interrupted in Saurial. "There's trouble coming this way. Night Masks. Assassins."
"Olive, check outside," the swordswoman ordered.