Letter 32: A Party At Which Masks Are Worn, Secrets Are Sought, And a Bird Is Not a Bird

General Summary

Mother,
After our meeting with Zinalla, we spent a day in our apartments. Early the next morning a strange Gnome appeared at our door with several exquisitely wrapped parcels. Our finely tailored clothing?
We let the Gnome into our rooms and Alyonna seemed oddly suspicious. Immediately. I didn’t see anything awry, but she must have sensed something I couldn’t see. I cocked my head as she challenged the Gnome, who suddenly dropped the facade and became Lady Sassafras. The Lady wanted to meet with us discreetly, but she was actually bringing our bespoke clothes. So two fish with one arrow.
The clothes turned out to be elaborate costumes for a masquerade ball. Mine, mother, you would greatly appreciate. Resplendent with the tones of the sea and highlighted with gold details. Regal. Very nice, and quite well fitted. But that’s not the best part. The costume made it look like I was a subaerial wearing a costume to look like a Person! I had shoulder straps “connecting” to my wings, with hints of a mechanical contraption to make them move! A necklace that looked like obvious stitching to keep the “head” attached, with a simple mask over the eyes! And boots to cover my talons, which now looked like somebody perhaps on stilts wearing boots that they want to look like talons wearing boots.
I loved it! I hoped I got to keep it.
In the boxes were invitations to a ball and cards of introduction. Lady Sassafras told us the location: a very high-class casino in High Town. There’s an auction, and she wants us to win the auction for a particular item: a Gnome’s journal. To do so, she issued us all blank cheques.
She also wanted us to discreetly deliver a letter to the Pale Lady. Apparently we don’t want this Pale Lady to know we represent Lady Sassafras.
So, two missions in one.
In addition, she wanted us to spray a particular perfume under the sheets of a particular guest.
Well, several missions.
Not done yet, she wanted to know the actual identity (at a masquerade) of whoever wins the auction for the Hammer of Arnak.
A mission for each of us?
Finally, she wanted us to ensure that a particular guest does not acquire either bottle of the vintage Fallen Leaf wine.
Our budget was 3,000 platinum, and she didn’t want it wasted.
3,000 platinum!
That might equip an army…
But we didn’t actually have 3,000 pieces of platinum weighing down a leather pouch in our hands. No, we had cheques that could be cashed for up to that set amount. So…no army.
Baermak decided to go to the Light Keepers library to research the various artifacts at auction. Best to know as much as possible about the goods before us.
Alyonna went to GG to try and find an etiquette coach. The etiquette of these subaerials I cannot understand, but I do understand that neither does Alyonna.
Ingoria practiced her pickpocketing skills and decided to figure out what she could about Bargim Ironcloack, in whose bedsheets we need to spray the perfume. It seems likely that “we” might become “Ingoria”.
Vessyr would spend the day in the apartments, grumbling. It seems his singular skill.
I flew to The Wunderbar to chat with Prescott and see if he could perhaps educate me about that wine. I didn’t know anybody else who might be so informed as to have knowledge of that particular vintage. Prescott met me at his balcony, which is how I always enter. The others might use the front, but a balcony is so much more civilized! I do so hate walking down streets.
As I expected, he poured us glasses of wine. After some small talk, mostly about the recent chaos at the Light Keepers, I casually mentioned the wine we were drinking and how it reminded me of a question he might be able to answer for me.
Curiosity spreading across his face, he leaned in, eager, wondering why I might be suddenly interested in wine.
“Well,” I told him, “I’m trying to impress somebody, and could use your insight.”
Half amused, half curious, he asked what I might need to know. He was thinking, perhaps, of a girl I might impress. Or her father.
I told him I needed to know about the 1489 Fallen Leaf. And he knew exactly what I was talking about; I could see it in his eyes. And the expression that flashed across his face, oh so subtly.
He seemed…stunned. Not stunned. No. Surprised? Almost. A little surprised. But more curious. That was it. Desperately curious.
I had obviously touched something I was not supposed to have touched. That’s why the curiosity was touched with surprise.
He told me he was quite familiar with it.
“Why?” I asked. “Why would you be so familiar with this?”
He told me that it was the last remaining vintage from before the Sylvans took over. That makes it very well known in the upper echelons of society. It was a status symbol. It was a wine not to be drunk, but merely to be owned. Or, more accurately, to be known to own.
I told him that I had been led to believe that a bottle might be available soon, and asked if that might be of interest to him as well.
“Ah, quite.”
I then asked what it might cost.
After a bit of prevarication, he finally estimated several hundred platinum.
I allowed my jaw to drop.
“For a bottle of wine?”
“For a bottle of exceptionally rare wine, yes.”
I took a sip from my glass of decidedly not exceptionally rare wine.
“That is insane.”
He told me that the only thing more rare would be a bottle from Golden Home itself.
I asked if he’d ever tasted such a wine, and he was almost apologetic. “No, no, no. This is not a wine for drinking.”
Then he half turned to me, looking over his glass, “So you say some of this might be coming for sale?”
“That's what I’ve been told.”
“And from whom did you hear this?”
Mother, I was starting to feel cornered. You would surely have navigated the situation with ease and grace, but I felt clumsy, clumsy and amateurish. I was not sure I could trust him. Well, not even just him, but who he might talk to. And who might overhear them. And how quickly this information could get completely outside of our control. This was a situation begging for your skills and knowledge.
How could I give him enough information to sate his curiosity without spilling too much, and giving him permission to provide more information in return? It had to be useful. Honest.
“Well, they were wearing a disguise…”
I left it at that, looking over his shoulder as if I had found something suddenly interesting. I did not mention that they dropped the disguise, and that I subsequently learned their identity. I simply trailed off, not lying, but not providing the full account.
He laughed, commenting on how honest yet utterly unhelpful my information had been.
I laughed in return, explaining how sure I was that he could understand how these types of things went.
And indeed he did.
“Let us hope that, perhaps, I might share some of this wine with you in the future.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re planning on … acquiring said wine?”
“Well, it might happen. You never know.” I was, in fact, thinking more along the lines of helping him acquire it. All we needed to do was to keep it out of the hands of another bidder. What would we do with that bottle? So acquire it ourselves, or help somebody else acquire it, it mattered not. Lady Sassafras only required that Perrigran Tumbledown not acquire it.
So Prescott might as well!
He was, again, desperately curious. The last I had seen him I had needed a loan in order to pay a priest to bring Baermak back to life. And now here I was, intimating that I might acquire a wine worth at least 300 platinum.
I reiterated my appreciation for his generous loan.
And then he finally let his guard down.
“So,” he began, “am I to understand that you might be,” and here he paused, as if pondering the wisdom of continuing, when it was far too late to turn back anyway, “you might be attending, say, an auction? An auction where this might be…available?”
He knew about the auction. About the ball. He knew what was being auctioned, so he must be attending.
“There is that possibility. Would there be a chance of you being there, perhaps? If I were to attend, of course.”
“Well,” he demurred, “these events are for the rich and powerful, and not a humble salesman like myself. Maybe not so easy, unless they are clever.”
“Indeed,” I said, “and a very clever man you are, my friend!”
Then, then he changed. His face darkened a bit, and he looked down, serious, concerned.
“These functions are very dangerous. But maybe in a very different way than you are familiar with.”
I took a deep breath. Indeed.
“Indeed, that is true. It is not without great trepidation that I approach this particular endeavor.”
He then offered me advice. Very good advice.
The same people attend the event every time, and they all know each other. The auction itself is not really the game. The people are the game. Everything is watched, noted, analyzed. I will be something new (and I already stand out) and will most assuredly catch everyone’s attention.
He suggested I approach this as I would any battlefield, and find allies.
“Might I have at least one?”
“Oh, I think there is maybe a good chance there will be someone you know there.”
I told him that he poured a wonderful glass of wine, finished it, thanked him for his advice, and leapt from the balcony.
Mother, I am sure you would be proud. I was not evading a pursuer, trapping an enemy, or hitting a target from 100 feet...for the third time. But I did glean information without giving up too much, simultaneously ensuring the safety of our group while doing it.
We got back together at our apartments and shared our findings. So much information, so many missions, so risky a battlefield. We now understood the history of some of the artifacts, Alyonna was familiar with the author of the journal, and we had a bare understanding of the familial relationships at play here. But it was not enough for a coherent plan, mother. Not nearly. Still, we would go in. Alyonna was less than happy, and murmured that she didn't like "winging it", which subaerials take to mean operating without a plan. To confuse the meaning so badly...if you have ever "winged it," you understand the depth of skill and amount of planning necessary from second to second.
I sometimes wonder if maybe this definition they've given me is not all the way true. Especially because Alyonna always looks at me when she uses the phrase.
Plan or no plan, we had a mission. I asked Ingoria if she would accompany me; together, it would be obvious to Prescott who we were, and thus easy for him to make contact. Other than that, the team would arrive separately.
We headed, without hesitation, to our fate.
Baermak went straight to the casino, as his costume least obscured his identity. He was dressed as the elaborate cleric of some obscure cult, a simple mask covering his eyes. The rest of us rented a room in High Town in order to change into our outrageous outfits.
Ingoria and I headed to the casino after giving Baermak plenty of time to arrive and blend. She was resplendent in a deep purple gown with bright silver embroidery. Long gloves covered her hands (her hand claw worn over one glove, looking to simply be elaborate jewelry). Her tail hidden in the gown, and her head covered by a cloak, no hint of ‘Baxi remained.
A maitre de met us at the entrance, hand extended, palm up. His intense once-over my “costume” might have been subtle, but it was still obvious. I smiled approvingly as I placed my invitation in his open hand, and said “Pretty nice, isn’t it?”
A tiny smile crossed his face as he barely nodded before extending his hand again. I hesitated for a second, and then handed him one of the calling cards that were also in our packages. Mine said Bird Baron. He took the card silently and tucked it away. After collecting documentation from Ingoria as well, he waved us inside.
A blue light suffused the entrance hall. Costumed guests, some well-disguised, and some very well dressed but clearly interested in having their presence known, milled about. A musician played a piano in the southeastern corner, next to the entrance to a well lit dining room in the eastern wall.
In the southwestern corner a barman awaited our orders, next to the entrance to another room, suffused with green light, gambling tables arrayed about, beyond the western wall. To the north lay a guarded stairwell.
Baermak entered the gambling room. I followed him with my eyes, but wandered, with Ingoria, in the opposite direction. The other guests were most definitely paying attention to me. I did my best to walk and move awkwardly, as if I was wearing a strange costume, which, well, which I actually was.
We then made our way, casually, to the green gambling room where Baermak sat at a table with a ‘Baxi. Another ‘Baxi! She looked just like Ingoria, but with different coloration; they could be sisters for all I could tell. I really don’t know how they tell each other apart. Are they all female? No, no, of course there must be males. Two stairwells in the north wall lay unguarded, so Ingoria and I sauntered up the first, hand in arm, as if a completely bored but obscenely wealthy couple.
So bored!
My heart raced.
At the top of stairs, in a small chamber that led to the other set of stairs, a poet read aloud. I stopped to listen, enjoying a poem about Arnakk. “That was about … Arnakk …?” I enquired, and he explained that it was an old poem, written about the ancient city from legends handed down from mouth to ear over eons.
Ingoria caught the eye of a barely masked guest, whom she immediately descended to engage. I stayed with the poet, complimenting him on his reading and asking if he might have any poetry that would reflect my elaborate costume.
I looked out from the top of the stairs and saw Alyonna sit at the bar, engaging with the barkeep. That seemed unproductive, so she engaged with a tall subaerial in very nice dress costumed as a Person. It was not a particularly good costume, as it lacked wings, talons, or a functioning beak. But he did put in an effort. They conversed for a bit, Alyonna seeming to be uncharacteristically complementary, then gesturing casually in my direction. They parted with him looking towards me.
A woman at the far southwest corner of the main casino stood, apart from all, gazing over the room. Completely concealed in a black outfit, not even her hands showing, her face also concealed behind a mask. She seemed a good candidate for our Pale Lady.
A loud man in a bear costume gambled, and several others stood out, but a small subaerial in a green costume wearing a porcelain mask with a mask painted on that mask walked up the stairs towards me.
I nodded and he headed straight for me, complimenting my costume. I bowed most extravagantly. He very loudly explained that mine was the best bird costume at the ball. Surely it is, but I said nothing about the other one. Instead I thanked him and pointed out that I had convinced the poet to recite some works from those bird folk. He mentioned that he was unfamiliar with any of their poetry, and I expressed a similar sentiment, exclaiming that it would be a very educational experience to hear such works, given my costume.
In return I complimented his mask, and the clever nature of the mask painted on the mask.
He clearly appreciated me noticing, “I call myself The Mask,” and shook my hand. I happily took his hand in mine, and … a very strange handshake.
As if maybe there was a message in there somehow. But it happened too fast to discern exactly what aspect of the shake was strange. It just was.
He asked if I had seen any nice ladies suitable for conquest. Not being attracted to these folks in any way at all, I tried to feign interest, telling him that they were in abundance tonight. I asked him if any in particular had caught his eye. He said he was still scouting the prospects.
I suggested the intimidating woman in the far corner, gesturing towards the Pale Lady.
“Intimidating?” he said, “More like boring.”
“Well, completely obscured from head to toe leaves much to the imagination.”
“Is she leaving it to the imagination or is she just hiding?”
“Indeed. So no others?”
He mentioned that he did see one person he would like to check out: a young drow.
Alyonna!
I told him I had not seen that one yet, but that he should keep me apprised of his progress, and let me know, as I winked, if he might need any aid.
“So, you would be my actual wingman?” he asked with a big smile.
“Indeed! I thought that was nicely on point!”
“Indeed,” he said, and raised his glass. I matched his toast and bid my farewell.
I passed by Alyonna as she crossed the room and mentioned that The Mask was quite interested in her, and he also seemed to be at odds with the guest dressed as a Person, having loudly called out the superiority of my costume.
Alyonna’s silver mask was an elaborate thing of beauty, covering her entire face and incorporating a headdress that trailed tassels and silver chains. She wore a floor-length black gown, half of which was lace. The fabulous tailors had fashioned the lace to compliment the tattoos on her arms, which swirled down to her wrists as if smoke, whisping too and fro to her hands. The lace mimicked the pattern of the tattoos, thick in some places, fading to barely visible in others. Wispy, like smoke in a breeze. The sleeves of the dress were entirely lace, blending with the tattoos as if they were one and the same, the lace swirling and fading as tattoos took over the pattern.
The dress trailed on the floor as she walked, casually but with purpose, away from me. The dress exposed her back, which was now completely free of scars.
A few steps away, I couldn’t tell the lace from the tattoos; it looked all of a piece.
At the bottom of the stairs I spotted Ingoria nearby chatting with a robust Dwarf. Vessyr across the room looked somewhat put out, wearing black and purple with silver filigree and a perpetual frown clearly visible behind his mask. Baermak stood at the back, to the north under the stairs, conversing with someone who was surely Prescott! Alyonna had disappeared.
Fabulous food was in abundance, but I partook of none of it. mother. My stomach was so tight, my chest absolutely constricted. Food, even good food, even exquisite food, as this all appeared to be, would not suit me right now. I worried that anything I ingested might quickly return.
I quickly headed over to Prescott, as Baermak wandered away, and complimented Prescott’s costume. He responded in kind, commenting on the humor embedded in mine. I agreed and thanked him. He said that I might have attracted unintentional additional attention. I responded that I knew I would stand out, so I leaned into it. He shook his head ever so slightly and mentioned that my costume ended up being a duplicate.
Ah, yes. That. I had spied him from the other side of the room, and was surprised that he hadn’t approached me yet.
I then asked if there might be others of interest I might engage.
Prescott suggested I might want to address the costume collision head on.
I agreed, and was already thinking along the same lines. I raised my glass and toasted him to fine wine! Scanning the room, I spied the guest in the Person costume, and walked directly to him.
We mutually complimented each other and offered our introductions. He called himself The Cuckoo. Ug.
He offered his hand, and I wondered if this might be another strange shake.
It was.
I still could not quite put my talon on it. Maybe the next time, if I get the chance.
As we chatted I noticed him constantly plucking lint off of his clothes. Fastidious. He said he was in a certain line of business; the most profitable line, in fact. I expressed interest, and asked who else I might engage. He suggested his business partner, The Eagle.
My eyes, mother, they wanted to roll. But by force of will I maintained my composure
He leaned in a bit, squinting, and exhaled. “I’ve not seen your costume’s like.”
“It is quite a thing to behold. I’m still not used to it.”
Staring intently, “It’s uncanny” he intoned.
“Indeed, I looked in the mirror and convinced my own self!” I said as I stepped back, taking my leave and walking to The Eagle, a Dwarf dressed in blue.
Mother, I cannot do what you do. I was surrounded by enemies I could not see, could not attack, could not evade. Could not even recognize.
I wanted to find Alyonna and not leave her side. Whatever might happen, we would fight our way out. I wished Ingoria had not left me. Baermak, with or without stories, was a better companion than any of these creatures, dressed as People and not People, playing and poking and pretending.
This was not my battle.
I caught Vessyr’s eye over a gambling table and even his dismissive glare was more welcome than the flat, calculating gaze of those others watching me so intently from behind their masks.
I filled my lungs deeply, scanned the room, and walked to The Eagle.

Report Date

02 Mar 2024