Dragonbait folded his hands together. He did not reply immediately, but Olive could tell from the hamlike scent of worry wafting from his neck glands that she'd gotten through to him. Finally he signed, / must think more about this.
"You do that," the halfling answered. "And while you're at it, think about how you're going to break it to Alias. She's likely to be upset, but she can't be kept in the dark. She's up to her neck in all this, and Westgate politics are even deadlier than the Westgate sewers. I'm going back to House Thalavar. I've managed to wrangle myself into duty as one of Lady Nettel's personal attendants for the ball, so 111 see you both there."
The halfling let herself out, leaving the paladin to brood over her words. It wasn't until Mercy came in with a tray of fruit and bread an hour later that the paladin even moved. He returned the girl's smile and curtsey with a brusque nod, then returned to his thoughts. The young half-elf shook her head at the stuffy smell in the room and opened a window before taking her leave. She couldn't think why the room smelled so of smoke, but then she was unaware that that was the scent of the saurial's fervent prayers.
Lord Victor surveyed the robe and sash he'd had made especially to match Alias's gown. The swordswoman's elven dressmaker had been obnoxiously discreet about what the swordswoman was wearing. Victor had had to visit her personally to talk her out of the information. It was worth his trouble, though, since it was important that people associate him with Alias tonight. Costuming was only one of several subtle but effective methods to achieve that end.
Almost everything was in place for tonight. Before he dressed for the ball, though, he had one last piece of business with his father.
The croamarkh was where he'd been yesterday afternoon at the same time, indeed, where he could be found every afternoon, in his library, balancing the business accounts personally, double-checking the figures of his accountants, ship captains, customs agents, and warehouse guards. Any discrepancy resulted in angry bellowing to send for the person responsible for the error, even if the error was in the Dhostar clan's favor.
Victor entered the library and stood before his father's desk. "Father?" he said.
"Victor," Luer Dhostar replied curtly, looking up with irritation at the disturbance, his pen paused in mid-stroke. There was a trace of concern in his eyes. He never knew these days what his son might tell him next.
Victor remained standing silently in just the right spot to cast a shadow over the account book.
Finally the elder Dhostar asked, "Is there something you need?"
"Many things," Victor replied smoothly, inwardly pleased that he had managed to make his father ask him. "But first and foremost," he said, "I need to know if you have changed your mind about attending the masked ball this evening."
"You know I have not," Luer retorted, snapping off the last word like a dry twig. "You are consorting with the help. It's no different than being caught in a compromising position with a chambermaid. I will not be seen appearing to endorse such a relationship."
"I think you should reconsider," Victor stated. "This evening Alias is going to unmask the Faceless."
The croamarkh's forehead creased deeply with concern. He set down his quill pen and closed his account book. "She knows who the Faceless is?"
"She is very close," said Victor, "and she'll have the proof she needs by tonight."
"Why hasn't she come to me with this information?" Luer demanded. "That's what I hired her for."
"Why hasn't she?" Victor parroted. He shrugged. "Perhaps consorting with Jamal and her little troupe has given her a flair for street theater dramatics. Will you reconsider coming tonight?"
Luer shifted uncomfortably in his seat, remaining silent as he considered his options. After a few moments, he shook his head. "Send for her. She must tell me first. I can't have half the nobles up in arms if she is wrong."
Victor frowned down at his father. "She can tell you in private at the ball," he argued.
Luer's face clouded with anger. He rose to his feet and shouted, "I will not attend this cursed ball! Send for Abas now!"
A look of rage spasmed across Victor's face, but the croamarkh was not unaccustomed to his son's temper.Luer held his ground. In a moment, the younger Dhostar mastered his emotions, and his face transformed back to a mask of civility.
Victor lowered his eyes to the table and whispered,
“I’m sorry, Father. It's over now."
"I should think so," Luer snapped. These tantrums are beneath you. Now do as I ask, please."
Victor shook his head sadly. "I mean it's over for you. We know that you're the Faceless."
Luer's face turned scarlet, and for several moments, though his mouth moved, he seemed unable to reply. Finally, the words exploded from him. That's preposterous! If that's what this cheap sell-sword thinks, I want her here now, before she does any more damage!"
That's what she will think, and she has proof." Victor produced the key he'd shown to Alias and explained, "I found this among your possessions. It's the key to the former lair of the Night Masters and the Faceless." "I never saw that key before," Luer declared. "So you say, but I do not think that Alias will believe you."
"We'll see about that," Luer growled. He reached out and yanked on the bellpull. Almost immediately Kimbel appeared in the doorway.
"I want you personally to fetch Alias and bring her here immediately," the croamarkh commanded the servant.
Kimbel looked at Victor. The younger Dhostar shook his head. Kimbel entered the room, closed the door behind him, and stood before it, silent and still.
The veins in Luer's face throbbed visibly. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.
"Tonight," Victor explained, "Alias, under my direction, will identify you as the Faceless, leader of the Night Masks. Enough evidence will be found among your possessions to offer proof of this accusation." The young noble slid around the desk and put a hand on his father's shoulder. "There is still a way out for you. A ship to Mul-horand is putting out to sea tonight just before the ball. You can take passage on that ship, leaving a document behind that will abdicate leadership of House Dhostar to me and recommend me for the post of croamarkh. I, in turn, will ensure that these awful revelations are never made public."
"If you believe me guilty, why would you do that?" Luer Dhostar asked with a laugh.
"To preserve the power of the nobles and the power of this family," Victor retorted. "There will be talk, naturally, but nothing will come of it. Then, in a few years, when the Night Masks are under control and all of the rumors have died, I will send for you. You can return as an elder statesmen." He gave his father's shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
"You think I will leave this house, this city, in your hands, knowing you have allied yourself with these criminals?"
Victor's brow knit in confusion. While he hadn't expected his father to accede readily to his demands, he was not prepared to meet with a counteraccusation. "It is not I who've aligned myself with the Night Masks, but you," he insisted, throwing his hands up in the air.
"I know about the smoke powder," Luer said. "Smoke powder? What about it?"
"It occurred to me when Alias noted how much more common smoke powder is. She thought perhaps we weren't able to stop it from being smuggled in. She didn't know how efficient the sniffer dogs at the customs check are or just how much we've confiscated. It's all been recorded in the customs records. There should be quite a stockpile." The croamarkh poked a hard finger in his son's chest. "A stockpile I entrusted to you," he growled. "A stockpile I have since discovered has been seriously depleted. You've been selling it to them, haven't you? You've been supplying the Faceless with the smoke powder he uses in his evil schemes. You've made yourself his pawn."