Alias went red, hearing the lyrics, while the crowd applauded and stomped feet.

"Let's get nearer the stage," the swordswoman said. "I want to make sure Jamal got Mintassan's message that we wanted to talk tp her. We need to find out how she knows so much about the city and the Night Masks. And watch your purse in this crowd. Night Masks work the day shift, too." Dragonbait chuckled and nodded.

"So you want to know how I know so much about the Night Masks," Jamal said as she turned over the cool, wet I cloth covering her swollen ankle. "It's not that complicated, really." The thes-I pian paused, assuring herself that she held her audience's complete attention. Dragonbait leaned forward on his stool. Alias fidgeted impatiently, hating Jamal's theatrics. Although the actress had refused to let Dragonbait heal her injury, she had accepted the adventurers' help back to Mintassan's. Now they were seated once again in the mismatched chairs around the heavy table in the sage's cluttered workroom. "I have the sense the gods gave geese," Jamal said. Mintassan, who hovered in the doorway of the side alcove waiting for the tea water to boil, called out, "Are those the geese that walk barefoot in burning buildings and then jump out of crow's nests for the amusement of the rabble?"

Jamal shot an annoyed glance at the sage. She turned back to the swordswoman and the paladin. She motioned them to lean closer, and when they had, she whispered, "I listen carefully, and I know how to put two and two together."

Alias leaned back and sighed. "Could you maybe give us an example of putting two and two together?" she requested.

"First I consider my source of information. Take the halflings. They have it in for the Night Masks, and not just because the Masks exclude them from their guild. It goes back to a blood feud started when the Masks first sprang up in this town. Now while halflings aren't always reliable reporters, they aren't going to lie on behalf of the Masks. So if a halfling who works for Lady Nettel Thalavar tells me Her Ladyship won't pay protection to the Night Masks, I'm inclined to believe him. If all the halflings working for Lady Nettel confirm his story, I'm going to accept it as fact.

Then when a halfling tells me a certain type of misfortune strikes the Thalavar trading house, I consider who would benefit from such misfortune. If a Thalavar ship laden with goods sinks in the harbor, I suspect the Face-less's wrathful hand. If the ship sinks but it was emptied out first, I suspect that another merchant family hired the Night Masks tp pick up the goods for them. The merchants hate waste, even if it benefits them, with the exception, in my opinion, of Family Urdo. The year of the summer brushfires there was never quite enough corn to meet demand, but enough for House Urdo to make a killing." "So how do you know who to talk to?" Alias asked.

"Oh, I don't seek out my sources," Jamal replied. They come to me. You see, I have many loyal fans, and, of course, some people just can't resist the temptation to see their story played out."

"And others can't resist the five copper she pays per story," Mintassan added as he joined them with the tea tray. "So you're an information broker," Alias stated.

"More of a collector," Jamal corrected. "I don't sell what I get, but I do put it on display-in my performances. Like a sage, I specialize. All things Westgate: local lore, noble gossip, Night Masks, the city's new cheap hero, Alias the Sell-Sword. Congratulations, by the way, on taking down Littleboy, and nabbing Timmy the Ghast and Bandilegs's bunch." "Who told you about all that?" Abas asked.

"Oh, I never reveal my sources. They trust me because of that," Jamal explained as she accepted the teacup Mintassan handed her.

Alias thought of all the people who knew about her activities last night. The thieves themselves, the scullery maids, the Turmishmen, Big Edna and her customers, the watch, and no doubt lots of people looking down from windows, too afraid to go out at night, but curious enough to watch the street.

Jamal sipped her tea, then said, "Littleboy's fall and Timmy's bath are part of our afternoon performance, if my stand-in thinks he's ready for the job."

Alias sighed with exasperation. "Why can't you tell stories about other heroes. The Knights of Myth Drannor, the Harpers, the Swanmays?"

Those are old legends," Jamal argued. "They're fine for summer stock theater. But a fresh, young, cheap hero, walking the street where people can point her out to, their children, that's going to inspire people. They've lived in silent fear of the Night Masks, certain the guild could never be defeated. You prove otherwise, and now they can't help but talk about you. Soon talk becomes action. I've already heard that last night, over on Thunn-side, a crowd pummeled three Night Mask bully boys who beat up a barmaid. They'll be part of the performance, too. Eventually there'll be cheap heroes popping up all over the city. Courage is contagious."

"Courage can also be dangerous," Alias pointed out, "as you may have noted when they burned your house down."

True," Jamal agreed, "but the Faceless won't focus on tiie anonymous cheap heroes. He'll focus on you."

"Perhaps I shouldn't be staying at Blais House," Alias commented.

Mintassan handed Alias a mug of tea. "Blais House is exactly where you should be," he insisted. "It has… protections of its own. Consider it a safe haven. It's on the street that you'll have to watch your back."

"Durgar thinks the Faceless and the Night Masters are myths," AUas said. "Durgar hasn't got my sources," Jamal countered. "What sources?" Alias demanded.

The Night Masks themselves, for one. They aren't about to go to the city's judge and tell him about the Faceless. They talk business, though, in taverns where a certain disguised actress can get work as a barkeep any time. And then sometimes the branded ones are angry enough to come to me." The branded ones?" Alias asked.

"The Faceless has a magical item with the power to burn a domino mask brand into the face of someone who's earned his displeasure. Sometimes the brand is too deep to be healed without leaving a scar. Then the branded one has no choice but to flee the city. About seven years ago a man claiming to be a Night Master came to me with such a brand. In exchange for safe passage from the city he told me a lot about the Night Masks organization. He said that the original Faceless, the founder of the Night Masks guild, had been assassinated by some new person who'd just taken up the old Face-less's magical regalia, and hence the office of the lord of the Night Masters, ^e new Faceless branded this Night Master when he'd challenged him over the right to hold the office.

"Later that year, another Night Mask, some second-story man, came to me. There had been a steep increase in the Night Master tax-the cut every thief pays to the guild. The tax was doubled for guild members and tripled for free-lance thieves working in the city. When this second-story man and some others refused to pay, they were brought before the Faceless and branded. The second-story man confirmed a lot of what the branded Night Master had told me." "So why is he called the Faceless?" Alias asked.

"According to the branded Night Master, the first Faceless had a face like a lujnp of clay. The Night Master thought the first Faceless might have been a doppel-ganger. The new Faceless's face is a blur of colors. The Temple to Leira, goddess of illusion, once possessed a magical helmet that caused exactly such an effect. The helmet was of mesh chain covered in platinum coins struck with the goddess's glyph. Shortly after the Time of Troubles Leira's temple was looted and burned and the magic helmet went missing."