Masquerades

swordswoman reached out and touched the sphere's surface. It was as smooth as glass and warm to the touch. 'It's a giant pearl,' Thistle whispered.

Dragonbait stepped out from behind the sphere. He spoke to Alias in Saurial. 'At its core I sense great greed.' 'The piece of Verovan's soul?' Alias guessed. 'Probably,' the paladin replied. 'What's surrounding it?' the swordswoman asked.

Dragonbait pointed to the mist on the floor. 'A pearl might actually be a good analogy,' he said. 'The soul shard is like a piece of grit in an oyster. These creatures have coalesced around it to soothe the irritation it causes them,' Dragonbait replied.

Alias looked down at the mist. 'You mean this mist stuff is living creatures?' 'Unformed manes,' the paladin whispered.

Alias swallowed hard. She would have leaped above the mist if there had been anywhere to leap to. 'Manes? Are you sure?' she asked in Common.

Dragonbait gave her an aggrieved look. To remind her that he was an authority on evil would be to state the obvious. 'Manes?' Victor asked. 'What's a mane?'

'They're what the lord of the Abyss sent to loot Verovan's treasure,' Thistle explained. 'But what are they?' Victor growled.

'The form the dead take in the Abyss,' Alias explained. 'Dragonbait says the mist is unformed manes.'

Victor whirled about, dragging Thistle with him, as if he could shake the mist away. Alias noted there was considerably more of it drifting about the nobleman than around herself.

'Why so uncomfortable, Victor? That's what you'll end up as when you die,' Alias declared. Dragonbait made some comments in Saurial, and the swordswoman chuckled. 'Pardon me, Victor,' she said. 'Dragonbait says you are not chaotic enough to end as a mane in the Abyss. More likely, you will be a lemure in Baator, though it is possible you will become a larva, since your selfishness is so great.'

'Why are the manes unformed?' Thistle asked in an anxious whisper.

Alias listened to Dragonbait's reply in Saurial, then translated. 'They have existed in this place for over a century with nothing but a bit of Verovan's soul to gnaw on. So they've gone misty to conserve their energy. As soon as they sense there's something here to devour, they'll begin to take shape.'

'They'll eat us?' Thistle asked with a whine in her voice, her sophistication finally crumbling beneath the weight of her fear.

'Don't be ridiculous,' Victor snapped. 'She is making all this up. Trying to get me to leave so I can be captured.

I want to know what's happened to the treasure,' he demanded. The saurial tapped his sword on the floor.

'Dragonbait says we're standing on it,' Alias explained. Curiously, she knelt beside the saurial, where the mists were thinner, and examined the floor. 'He's right,' she replied. With her dagger she pried up a brick of solid gold and held it out for the others to see. 'The floor's paved with these, and there's another layer beneath this one. I wonder how many layers.'

Victor motioned Alias and Dragonbait to move back. Dragging Thistle down with him, he knelt on the floor and investigated for himself. He pulled up a second brick of gold and stuffed it into a pocket of his robe. He smiled coldly as he stood un. Bits of mane mist clung to his back and swirled now as high as his hips, but the nobleman did not seem to notice.

Alias exchanged'a look with the paladin. She was tempted to say nothing, but Thistle was still the nobleman's hostage, and what endangered him endangered her.

'Victor, are you going to wait for those things to draw first blood before you come to your senses?' the swordswoman asked, pointing to the mists swirling about the nobleman. 'Let Thistle open the portal so we can get out of here before we're eaten alive.'

'I am not some foolish peasant you can deceive with your adventurer faerie tales,' Victor snapped. 'It is just mist.' A strand of mist swirled about the nobleman's head. Victor swatted at it irritably, then tried to back away from it. His eyes widened, and Alias saw fear in them. He seemed to be struggling to move.

It was Thistle who verbalized the problem. 'My legs!' she shrieked. 'Something's holding on to my legs!'

Victor let out a scream as though he'd been hurt. He released Thistle and slashed with his dagger at the mists about his legs.

Alias seized the opportunity. She threw herself at Thistle and managed to jerk the girl away from both Victor and whatever was holding her. The swordswoman and noblewoman tumbled backward on the floor. They came to their feet, choking on the mist, but free of Dhostar.

Dragonbait moved forward to help the nobleman, but Victor straightened, thrusting out his dagger to warn him back.

The paladin snarled and stepped back. The mist still seemed to be evading him, so Alias pushed Thistle in his direction. Then she turned to deal with Victor. The nobleman backed away, apparently having stabbed to death whatever had hindered his movement. There was blood on his hands and dagger, but some of it, Alias suspected, was the nobleman's own. 'Victor, we can't stay here any longer. Give Thistle the key,' she ordered. Victor smiled coldly. 'Not a chance,' he said.

'Victor, we could be swarming in manes any minute. We can't fight them all. We'll die. You'll die.'

'You've destroyed everything I have worked years for. At least I'll have the satisfaction of knowing I had my vengeance on you, bitch.'

Alias shook with fury. She drew her sword and took a step in his direction. 'You can give me that key, or I can slice you in half and loot it from your body.'

Victor pulled the feather brooch from the pocket of his robe and held it up. Alias reached her hand out. The nobleman laughed, and flung the brooch away. The piece of jewelry arced over Dragonbait and Thistle and disappeared into the mists. It made a tiny clatter when it hit the floor.

'You've gone mad,' Alias growled. To Dragonbait and Thistle she said, 'You'd better start looking for it. Hurry. I'll keep Dhostar still.' She raised the tip of her sword to the nobleman's throat.

Dragonbait took Thistle's hand and led her in the direction Victor had thrown the brooch. 'Maybe you should give them a hand,' Victor joked. Alias kept her sword leveled at the villain's throat.

'Then again,' the nobleman said with a smirk, 'I don't suppose that will be necessary anymore.' Behind her Alias heard a hiss, then a growl. Alias whirled around and backed up quickly so that Victor would be at her left hand instead of her back. Advancing toward her was a halfiing-sized creature with pale white skin, a bloated torso, and razor-sharp claws and teeth. Pus dripped from its mindless white eyes.

Alias waited until the mane was just within reach of her sword. With a single stroke, she cleaved the Abyssal creature in two, and it dissipated back into a stinking mist. Alias gagged from the stench. 'My, how valorous,' Victor taunted.

Alias did not reply. Her attention was focused on the hoard of creatures rising from the mists, all as disgusting as the first. Ten, twenty, thirty, she counted to herself, knowing there would be more.

'Too bad it's vaporized,' the noble continued. 'You could have had it mounted-show off your-' Victor went silent. Alias sensed the nobleman backing away.

'Dhostar, stay at my back,' she barked. 'It's our only chance.'

Whether Victor chose to abandon the swordswoman or simply panicked, Alias would never know. Whichever it was, the nobleman turned and ran. Alias glanced over her shoulder and saw him trip and fall into the mist.

More manes rose up, surrounding the downed noble, then leaped upon him, rending his flesh with their claws and teeth. Alias had turned away to keep her eyes on the larger hoard of manes approaching her, but Victor's screams filled the air all around the swordswoman. The nobleman's death gave her no satisfaction, but neither did she feel any regret.

With ice in her heart, she charged a flank of the manes, swinging her sword fast and hard, felling instantly each creature she struck. They were not tremendously powerful monsters, but Alias knew better than to be heartened by her victories. They could reform again within a day. The real strength of manes, however, lay in their numbers and their mindless compulsion to attack regardless of any danger to themselves. It was only a matter of time before enough manes formed to overwhelm her. She could choke on the poisonous vapors of their dissipating corpses, or slip on a patch of their slick blood and find herself beneath a mound of their bodies, or just