On the temple steps, all the performers gathered in a group, behind the stage Faceless. Some looked nervous, others resigned, but the majority had an air of defiance.

The watch patrol stopped at the bottom steps. The patrol's sergeant looked up at the performers and asked in an officious tone, "Who speaks for this group?"

The stage Faceless stepped forward, doffing the coin-veiled hat with a sweeping gesture and bowing. Locks of red and gray spilled out, and Jamal the Thespian straightened and faced the watch sergeant. "Afternoon, Rodney," she said. "Out for a stroll with the boys? My, how they've grown."

From her vantage point Alias could see the watch sergeant's ears redden. "Jamal," Rodney demanded, "do you have a license for this performance?" His tone started out gruff, but his voice cracked, and his last word came out a squeak.

"License?" Jamal parroted lotfdly with a surprised tone. "Let's see." She slapped her body, causing the robes to billow out like a thundercloud in a crosswind. "Alas, no," she said at last. "I must have left it with my other mask." There was a titter of laughter from a remaining member of the crowd. One of the watchmen, a freckle-faced youth, spun and glared at the source. The tittering died, but others in the crowd chuckled at the youth's display of humorlessnees. "You need a license to perform," Sergeant Rodney said.

"Miul's Mouth, I know that, Rodney!" Jamal huffed. I’ve been performing in this town since before you were born. I'll just have to purchase a replacement license." Jamal peered into the tambourines her actors had used for soliciting funds. "I've got about fifty copper here," she said. "Will that cover it?"

Rodney shifted uneasily, and Alias wondered if he had been bought off that cheaply in the past. "The price of a license," the sergeant replied stiffly, "is fifty pieces of gold."

"Fifty pieces of gold?" Jamal shouted in mock astonishment. "If I had fifty pieces of gold, I could rent a hall and charge admission, but then none of these good people here would be able to afford our performances. Is that what the people of Westgate want?" There was an unpleasant muttering among the crowd. Alias hoped Jamal knew what she was doing.

"Performing without a license amounts to a disturbance of the peace," Rodney announced. "You'll have to come with us."

To Alias's horror, Dragonbait appeared beside the watch sergeant, tapped him on the shoulder, and queried, "Murf?"

"Oh, no. Why does he always get involved in these things?" Alias muttered. She sighed. "Excuse me," she said to Victor, stepping down from his carriage. She began elbowing her way through the crowd to reach the paladin's side.

Sergeant Rodney spun about to offer a sharp reprimand to whoever had interrupted his business, but he was so startled by the saurial's appearance that he took a step backward and would have tumbled down the stairs had his men not steadied him.

Dragonbait jingled a pouch of coins in Rodney's face and repeated, "Murf?" Sergeant Rodney stared goggle-eyed and tongue-tied.

"This is Dragonbait, Rodney. He's a patron of the arts, offering to pay for the new license," Jamal said smoothly, as if help from lizard creatures was a common occurrence in her life. "Right?" she queried, asking the paladin to confirm her guess.

"Murf!" Dragonbait replied, nodding and shaking the pouch of coins at Rodney again.

Sergeant Rodney stammered for a moment, then regained his composure. "Licenses must be applied for before the performance starts," he insisted. "And they can't be issued for daytime performances on any street leading to the market."

"What good is a license if I can't perform somewhere where people will see it?" Jamal argued.

"Jamal," Rodney growled, "I'm going to have to take you in."

Alias, who'd just reached the bottom of the steps, called out, "Why is it that five of Westgate's finest spend their time arguing with street performers while the Night Masks rule every shadow in the city?" She climbed up the steps so that she stood beside Jamal.

There was a scattering of applause in the crowd. The freckle-faced youth in the watch gave the swordswoman a bone-chilling glare while the other members shifted uneasily.

Sergeant Rodney spun to face the new challenger, and Alias saw that a thin film of sweat had formed on his forehead. He wasn't used to being challenged and wasn't sure how to handle it. Perceiving that he was dealing with an unruly mob and would need reinforcements, the sergeant reached for the small silver whistle on the chain about his neck. Before he could raise the whistle to his lips, though, a heavy hand settled on his shoulder.

"I'm sure this isn't so complicated that you can't handle it with a little initiative on your part, Sergeant," Victor Dhostar said calmly, giving" the sergeant's shoulder a squeeze. "Lord Victor!" the sergeant gasped.

"Your devotion to duty is most admirable, Sergeant Rodney," Victor commended the man, "but arguing about licenses in front of the lady's audience is like arguing with a partner in front of a buyer. It's bad form, you know."

Sergeant Rodney's lip stiffened. "With all due respect, Lord Victor, this show has blocked traffic all the way back to the market."

"To be fair, it is the audience, not the performers, blocking traffic. Please, at my behest, take this"-Victor took Dragonbait's pouch of gold and set it in Rodney's hands-"and issue this lady a license to perform here." "But the traffic-" Sergeant Rodney protested.

Victor waved out to the street. Since some members of the audience had moved on and the others had squeezed closer to the makeshift stage, the plaza had cleared sufficiently for the carriages and carts to move through. "You see, it was only a momentary problem," Victor said.

The sergeant took a few deep breaths, then nodded. "As you wish, Lord Victor," he said. Turning to Jamal, he regained some of his stern demeanor. "This performance may continue, but consider yourself warned. The city cannot have its commerce brought to a standstill for entertainments!"

"I will encourage my people to be less popular in the future," Jamal said with a straight face. To the crowd she announced, "We have been informed by the most illustrious Sergeant Rodney that we may continue our entertainment, with thanks owed to that great patron of the arts, Dragonbait the Paladin, and the glib tongue of Lord Victor Dhostar."

There was a smattering of applause. Dragonbait bowed, and Victor, a little self-consciously, waved at the crowd.

"We dedicate this performance to them," Jamal announced, "and, of course, to Westgate's newest hero, Alias the Sell-Sword!"

Whistles and bellows of approval came from the mob. Alias felt her face reddening.

Alias, Victor, and Dragonbait slipped back into the crowd as the musicians started playing and the false Night Masks took the stage, juggling wooden swords and axes. "You seem popular," Victor said.

Alias shrugged. "I don't know what I was doing up there. You're the one who deserves the credit for rescuing Jamal's troupe."

"Ahhh, but I wouldn't have bothered to help if you hadn't rushed up there," Victor said. "That's the whole point of heroes, isn't it, to inspire us with their courage?"

"Is that what you were doing? Inspiring him with your courage?" Dragonbait asked with amusement. "I thought you'd only come up to chide me for getting involved." Alias shot the paladin a warning look.

"Well, I enjoyed that little foray into street justice, brief as it was," Victor said. "Thank you-uh, oh."

"What?" Alias asked, and she looked in the direction Victor now peered.

The croamarkh's carriage stood parked by Victor's curricle. The driver of the larger carriage stood up in his seat, indicating with a wave of his hand that Victor should make his way to the carriage.