"Come on, boys," Alias taunted. "Are we going to fight or not?"

While the Night Mask enforcers were not unused to resistance, their opponents were not usually equipped with such deadly weaponry. Raw steel did not frighten them, but they had no desire for a taste of their own poison, and the fiery sword made them cringe instinctively. There was also something unnerving about the fey tone in the swordswoman's voice. They were assassins, not warriors, and they'd come to kill, not be killed. They began backpedaling down the passageway.

They found their way blocked by a larger-than-man-sized ale keg seated upright. It became clear to the paladin what Alias had purchased from the dwarven brewer. With a grin, Dragonbait closed in on the assassins. Alias followed just behind him.

"Surrender now, and I'll let you leave with your lives," Alias said. The Night Masks looked back at Alias and Dragonbait,then at the keg, then back at their would-be victims.

Dragonbait rotated his wrist so the point of his weapon traced little looping circles of light in the air.

The lead Night Mask dropped his poisonous weapon, and the other two followed suit.

"I don't think you have the paperwork for any of those weapons, boys," Alias said. "Better leave them all with me so I can evaluate them."

The Night Masks hesitated. Dragonbait growled and ran his fiery blade down the side of the building to his right so they could see the scorch marks left on the stone. Soon there was a pile of Night Mask weaponry lying at the saurial's feet.

"Keep stripping, boys," Alias ordered. "I'll tell you when to stop."

Out in the street the dwarven brewmaster had set up a second bar to handle the spreading crush of party-goers. The red-headed swordswoman had paid him to block the alley with the large keg once he saw the Night Masks follow her in. Then, as per the swordswoman's additional instructions, he announced that he would be giving out free samples from the great barrel of Chondath Dark Ale. He waited until he had a sizeable crowd about him, then tipped over the great keg standing across the passageway and knocked a tap into the end.

From the passageway beyond, the old dwarf heard the redhead say, "You'd better get moving, boys. I may not give you a second chance."

The dwarf moved back from his tap as three men came rushing toward him and clambered over the keg of ale. The crowd howled with laugher, for all three men were naked save for their domino masks. These they clutched in a desperate effort to conceal what modesty they had left. The trio bolted through the crowd as fast as they could and disappeared into the dark streets. No doubt they stopped eventually to steal some new clothing, but they were not seen in Westgate again.

As Dragonbait and Alias climbed over the keg, the brewmaster offered them both a mug of ale from the barrel Alias had purchased. Alias declined, but insisted that Dragonbait enjoy a pint.

While the saurial sipped his beverage, Alias drew out the loaf of bread she'd bought and began using it to wipe green goo off her sword. She offered the paladin a bite first. "You know I hate avocado," he replied.

Alias shrugged. "I've gotten quite fond of it. It has that rich, buttery flavor. The flavor of revenge." She popped into her mouth a chunk of the bread spread with green fruit.

"Was there a point to all of that, other than to amuse the crowd?" Dragonbait asked.

"A point?" Alias repeated. "We don't need a point. They tried to rob us, and we got even. It was a good joke. Humor, remember humor?" She finished polishing her sword and sheathed it next to the saurial's enchanted blade.

Dragonbait sipped his ale, looking at her over the top of his mug with a sad, paternal stare.

"All right," Alias snapped. "There was a point. Those three may actually reconsider their lives of crime. At the very least, they won't be leaving their masks behind tonight."

Dragonbait blew the air out of his cheeks with a har-rumph. "Three tiny leaves plucked off the tree of evil."

"The axe hasn't been forged that's big enough to cut down the Night Mask tree in Westgate," Alias argued. She took another bite of avocado and bread. "Then one must dig out the roots," the paladin replied.

"Dig out the roots. What's that supposed to mean? We came here to make a deal with Mintassan the Sage, not go into the tree-pruning business."

"I thought you might want to help the people of West-gate, free them from the shadow of the Night Masks." "Why would I want to do that?"

"You grew up here, after all," the saurial said with a sly grin.

Alias glared at her companion, uncertain if he was trying to get her to renounce her false memories or really hoped to get her entangled in the web of treachery that made up Westgate's power structure. "I did grow up here," she insisted. She looked up at the buildings around her. The memories felt so real, so fresh. She'd been on this street before, when she was just a little girl, chasing a cat she'd hoped to keep as a pet. "As a matter of fact," she declared, "our house was just around the corner. I can show you." She slid off the keg of ale and headed down the street.

"Alias, please, don't-" Dragonbait called. Now he wished he had not teased her.'When her memory betrayed her like this, it often ended in pain for her.

But Alias was now in another world, one of nostalgia for a past she didn't really own. "Come on," she called back over her shoulder. "It shouldn't take us too far off our route."

"Boogers," Dragonbait muttered. It was one of the foulest curses Olive Ruskettle had ever taught him. He shouldered the ashen staff and loped after his companion.

"Around the corner" turned out to be one corner, three blocks, a second corner, an alley, and another corner. The part of the city they traveled through had seen better days. The cobblestones were intermixed with potholes and bald patches where locals had quarried the street to patch up their chimneys and walls. The paint on every door was peeling. Trees and shrubs in the gardens were all overgrown. Still, there was the occasional streetlamp made of a utilitarian post of iron with dimly glowing, smoking oil in a small bowl at the top.

All of the shops on the ground floor were shuttered and locked tight, but there were a number of small lights in the upper stories-constellations of candles, lanterns, and the occasional magical light stone.

"There," Alias announced in an awestruck tone, as if she had discovered the lost city of Shandaular.

She pointed to a small, two-story building sandwiched between a stable and a dressmaker's establishment. According to a weathered old sign over the door, the shop on the first floor specialized in second-hand clothing. The original proprietor's name had been painted over, but no new moniker had been posted to take its place. "Very nice," Dragonbait said, as gently as he could muster, "We'd better be going, though."

Alias scowled, "You don't understand. I was born here. I grew up here. I have memories of this place."

Dragonbait sighed, "I know, but they're memories sung into you by Finder. You were never here, really here, before tonight. If you'd like, we can come back tomorrow when its light and ask if anyone here knew Finder. I think for now, though, we'd better-"

Dragonbait's words were cut short as the front door of the shop smashed open and three humans barged out of the building-a man and a woman both with slight frames and close-cropped hair and a second man large enough to be a bouncer at a very rough bar. All three wore domino masks and were dressed in velvet dyed a black so deep that it absorbed light, as if they were chunks of the Abyss loose in the Realms. The big man carried a blazing torch. The smaller man banged a nail into the doorjamb. The woman hung a black domino mask on the nail, then nodded curtly at the big man. The big man flung his torch through the doorway, back into the building.