A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

Eleventh Day of the Seventh Month 293 AC

"Pardon me, my lord," you begin softly, closing the door behind you with a satisfactory thump. "But I fear you may have been harmed by the malignancy that drew you all here for all you do not show overt signs. "

"One wonders where such concern springs from, Wisdom," Yargo replies, the faintest edge of irony to his words. "I am no feeble old woman to need saving, nor yet a damsel without a voice to speak up."

"Such malignancy is not easily contained," you counter, speaking nothing but the truth. "You could quite easily be a threat to others in time and even, if you insist on attributing me only the most self-centered of motives, myself."

The masked man tilts his head slightly to the side as though trying to see you from a new angle. There is something like frustration in the line of his shoulders, but for a long moment he does not speak. When at last he breaks his silence it is not with the words you had expected: "Who are you truly who walks in the company of devils, yet shows courtesy and constraint at every turn?"

Now it is your turn to stand in frozen shock if only for a moment. You had assumed, quite reasonably even in hindsight, that one who seems in no way warded or touched by arcane blessings would be unable to pierce the protections for your companions. For that matter how would he see through their guises and not yours? Perhaps he had not seen but inferred from their speech and manner, no small feat but possible for one with the right knowledge, you guess. If only you could see past that damnable mask...

"I see no devils," you counter to give yourself time to think. Could he be standing in a void of magic as your last foe had done? No, you had stood close enough to feel such a thing. Perhaps... answer comes to you in a flash of understanding, the spell silently called forth but an instant later from the spring of legends forged. The mask holds a ward against death magic, and over it another dweomer to cloud the sight of any who would look upon it, which still begs the question how he had come to possess it and how he had guessed the nature of your guards. More and more it seems like this is a man whom you cannot allow to let walk from this chamber alive unless he unveils his secrets willingly.

Does he see that upon your face? you wonder as silence once more falls. Or does he simply guess?

"How far are you willing to go for mere curiosity, I wonder?" The question's tone is idle, but the intent behind it is anything but, one hand inches ever so slightly downwards to draw something from his belt as time seems to slow around you. If you are to resolve this without bloodshed than you must speak now or hold your peace and ready for battle.

"Far enough to ensure my reputation is not slandered." you answer curtly. "Far enough to ensure you are not more of a threat than the lingering curses might have been. I ask you now plainly one final time, who are you and whom do you serve?"

The masked man seems to... stop so utterly you cannot even he sure he is breathing, less like flesh and blood and more like a piece of clockwork winding down. You have seen this before years ago in Braavos and so guess the truth a moment before he speaks the words: "Valar Dohaeris." All men serve, the mark of a Faceless Man. Easy enough to guess what business such would have here, but what does he plan to do now?

Guessing your thoughts the assassin replies in a voice that holds only a hint of the hollowness you had expected: "He whom I was sent to slay is gone from this world. This I have felt through the broken link he foolishly cast to snare me. Thus I have no quarrel with you, man of Qarth."

It is still hard to guess the truth behind the words, hard but not altogether impossible. He seems sincere. So much for the vaunted powers of the Faceless Men. You put the prideful thought away. One failure to see past a false guise and an arcane binding does not stop the man before you from being dangerous, still less his order. "Why do you linger, then?" you ask cautiously.

"I am curious about the one who fulfilled the will of Him of Many Faces before I could, not so curious as to test truth upon a dagger's edge unless you wish it so," he replies, much to your surprise. You had not thought of the Faceless as having desires beyond the service of their dread god, perhaps foolishly so. The mind of man can be wondrously resilient.

"Wearing a mask is not the most discreet disguise," you note, tone still carefully neutral.

"It was hiding in plain sight for most. For my quarry it was..."

"Bait," you finish. "He sought knowledge from you and power over death. What better place to find that knowledge?"

"It is so," the Faceless Man replies with the faintest touch of admiration to the words. "So, do you still think I am too dangerous to let live? I confess it would be a pity if either of us should die, for we could have many fascinating conversations in time, maegi."

What do you reply?

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OOC: Well here you go, you found a Faceless Man, and he did not find the truth about Viserys mostly because you did not spend that much time with the other guests socially. On short notice it's easier to find things with spells than guile, so now you are in a rather unique position vis a vis what must be a rather important assassin. On the other hand still no Tyrells. I assumed Viserys would have fewer degrees of social success than he did.