"Jamal's advice, Your Reverence, has been crucial in helping me locate this lair," Alias argued.

"That may be," Durgar replied, "but, as she is not known for her discretion, she is not welcome. As you will recall from your discussion yesterday with the croa-markh, your employer, there are more serious aspects to these investigations than feeding the curiosity of theatrical vagrants."

"Theatrical vagrant. I like the sound of that," Jamal said with mock indignation. "Certainly a step up from being a lackey to the likes of Hazfar Urdo." She sneered.

Durgar's eyes narrowed, but he did not reply to the actress's implied insult.

"We'll be back at low tide," Alias said. Mintassan reached for her hand, no doubt prepared to whisk the two women and the saurial away with magic, but Alias said, "I'd like to walk." She proceeded down the bridge with Jamal at her side.'

"Very well," the sage sighed, and took a position alongside Dragonbait, following the two women.

As they strode through the streets, Mintassan began expounding on the varying legends about quelzarns. Dragonbait listened intently, eager to learn all he could about a creature he might battle again, but Alias drifted back a few paces to apologize to Jamal for Durgar's insistence that she be left out.

"Don't give it a second thought. I certainly haven't," the actress reassured her. "Besides, I'll squeeze the story of your expedition out of you later."

Alias felt another twinge of guilt, reminded of how she'd kept secret the croamarkh's key. The loyalty she felt she owed Luer Dhostar as an employer remained intact only because she hoped, for Victor's sake, that the croamarkh had a good reason for possessing the key to the Night Masters' lair. She felt a stronger loyalty, though, to Jamal, and not just for all the advice the woman had given her. She was still haunted by the phantom memories of a mother who looked just like the actress. In addition, the connection Jamal had to Finder Wyvernspur made Alias feel a certain warmth for her. She wanted something to make up for the key that stood between them.

"Lord Victor's invited me to a masquerade ball tomorrow night," she confided. "Dragonbait and I."

"My goodness, how egalitarian," Jamal said with a grin. "I wonder what he's playing at?"

Alias shook her head. "He's not playing at anything. He just likes my company."

"A likely story," Jamal retorted, her tone laced with dramatic suspicion.

"I suspect I'll need a fancier gown from all Victor said about this event."

"Definitely," Jamal agreed. "Fortunately, I know a dressmaker who owes me several favors. Why don't we just pop into her shop now?"

The two women excused themselves from the company of the sage and the saurial and made their way down a side street.

Jamal's dressmaker was an elven woman called Dawn, who greeted Jamal with a suspicious look. She broke into a string of expletives when the actress explained Alias's needs and time constraints. Jamal insisted that a designer of her talents was surely up to the challenge.

The elf eyed Alias critically for several moments. Finally she said, "The shoulders. None of these Westgate witches can compete there. Lady Nettel forty years ago, but none of the wilting lilies of this generation. We'll leave the shoulders bare." "How will the dress stay up?" Alias asked. "Elven magic," Jamal chuckled.

For the next half hour the swordswoman fidgeted through measurements, pinnings, and some rather rude appraisals of her features. At last Dawn announced that Alias was free to go. Providing the swordswoman came by tomorrow for a final fitting before noon, the gown would be ready an hour before the ball.

"Her scabbard belt will spoil the gown's lines. She'll need a baldric for her sword," Jamal informed the elf. "You were planning to wear your sword, weren't you?"

"In this city, I wear it everywhere," Alias confirmed as she studied the dozens of masks that lined the walls of the shop. For Dragonbait she picked out a half-mask covered in feathers and for herself a simple full face done in glazed porcelain. The mask's arched eyebrows seemed to express exactly how she was beginning to feel about all the twists and turns her visit to this city had taken.

"This is actually getting exciting," Jamal laughed as she and Alias left the shop and made their way through Westgate's fog-bound streets. "It reminds me of a song Nameless sang about the Westgate nobs-something about battles at the balls."

"Their battles are fought at the ball," Alias corrected, in measured rhythm. She knew the song perfectly well, though she had never known before that Finder had sung it about Westgate. She turned to Jamal and spoke as openly as she dared. "I'm so glad we've met. I'm glad Finder knew you, glad that I got to know you, too. I'm going to bring down the Faceless for you, Jamal. I promise."

The actress looked taken aback for a moment, but then she smiled and draped her arm around the swordswoman's shoulders. "I appreciate that," she said, giving Alias's shoulders a friendly squeeze. "I think, though, that you look exhausted. You should get some rest before you throw yourself back into the fray."

Back at Blais House, Alias found she could hardly keep her eyes open as she took her leave of the actress. Leaving Mercy with instructions to wake her at midnight, the swordswoman retired to her room to nap. Dragonbait was already there sleeping.

By the time the sandbar was uncovered again, the fog had cleared. The crescent moon shone brightly on the untrampled approach to the Night Masters' lair. It was the perfect secret entrance, Alias thought. The tide washed away all signs of the Night Masters passing after every meeting.

There had been no sign of any Night Masters approaching the site, despite the fact that, according to Melman, this would be the night of their regular meeting. The Faceless had learned of their trespass, Alias realized, and had warned his followers. The Night Masters and their lord would elude Durgar this night, but soon much of their wealth and the magical source of their obscurement would be in the hands of the watch.

With a keen sense of satisfaction, Alias showed Durgar how to use the key to the lair, and she, Dragonbait, Mintassan, and twelve armed members of the watch followed the priest into the dark tunnel by the River Thunn.

Half the watch carried hooded lanterns, and Mintassan produced a small silver wand, which glowed with a magical light.

As the party moved into the conference room, Dragonbait tapped on the table. "Melman's mask is missing," he said in Saurial.

"Damn," Alias whispered. A leaden feeling of failure settled over her. "The Faceless must have some other way in," she said to Durgar, and she explained about the missing mask. "He might have come in the way we left, through the sewer," Alias suggested. "Or used magic," Mintassan pointed out.

Dragonbait pressed the panel that operated the secret door. Alias nearly ran through the secret passage. She hesitated only a moment at the chasm over the sewer to check with her sword that the bridge was still intact and crossed over the sluggish water below.

Dragonbait clucked with annoyance at her impatience. He remained behind to present the invisible bridge to Durgar, Mintassan, and the watch. Dragonbait and the sage stood guard as the watch crossed, but the quelzarn did not appear. As the others trooped up the next passage, the sage stood looking over the chasm's edge with disappointment. Dragonbait had to tug on his sleeve to get him to follow the others.

"I guess a watched quelzarn never surfaces," the sage said as he continued on.

They found Alias in the empty treasure room, leaning dejectedly against one wall, staring at the shards of the mirror that had been mounted on the wall. Save for the broken mirror, the room was stripped of all trace of the Night Masks' treasure. The chests, the weaponry, the wands and staves, the iron golems, the table holding the tree of masks-all were gone.