Prologue
It was cold below the Avenida das Marionetes, the Avenue of the Puppets, but the painted man endured the chill and stepped down, down, until even the echoes of his footsteps off the damp granite stairway could no longer be heard, even by himself. Very few knew of this place, this ancient and abandoned crypt that now served as the council hall for the Brotherhood of the Green Star, the Estrela Verde. Above on the avenida, they sang and danced and laughed and celebrated life. Here, in this cold, abandoned crypt, death was planned.
In his many years as an assassin for the Brotherhood, Heliodoro had never visited the Estrela Verde council chamber. There was little reason to do so. Moedas were paid, a name was proffered, and his job was to find and kill or subdue in some way the person whose name was scribbled on the parchment. Why bother the masters with details? But this was no normal time, no normal visit. A dragon had risen in Rosa Blanca. A dragon had been subdued by an even greater power, Sacudente do Mundo, and Heliodoro’s superiors wanted answers.
He stepped into a circle of green mist which swirled in the center of the forgotten crypt. Where the mist came from and how it was formed, he did not know. It did not matter, really, for when you were in the middle of it, you were theirs, and lying was not possible.
Six men and one woman emerged from shadow. They wore robes of dark green, and their faces were obscured by hoods. Some of their breath showed in the cool, musty air. They sat together in a half-circle around the green mist in which Heliodoro stood. They were quiet, unassuming. Then one spoke.
“Tell us, please, Brother Heliodoro, of your time in Rosa Blanca,” the woman said to his right. “The information of events is mixed and chaotic in the Channels. Bits and pieces. Tell us the story, with events in order, so that we might judge the outcome.”
He told them everything from his perspective, from the moment he arrived in the small port town, to the end when he bid thief and swords master Sonata Diamante farewell on the road.
“And we presume that you are still watching her,” asked one of the men to his right. “Where is she now?”
Heliodoro lowered his head, sighed. “She is back in Cragsport, or will be soon, I’m sure.”
“You’re sure? You do not know for certain?”
“I . . . released her from my hold, my sight. But she will return to Cragsport. She has unfinished business there.”
Heliodoro had tried to lie about giving Sonata back her swords. A lie of omission. He was not going to offer any information they did not specifically ask for. But the green mist swirling around his head and the nausea in his bowel grew worse whenever he thought about being anything but completely truthful.
“You released her from your sight? Are you foolish, or do you conspire against Estrela Verde’s long term and best interests?”
Heliodoro bowed. “Neither. I felt it . . . unseemly to track her like an animal, like she is some uncontrollable child.”
“She is an animal, an uncontrollable child. She is Sacudente do Mundo.”
“Yes, and if it is the council’s wish to see her become our patron saint, our santa padroeira, our Estrela Mãe, then I believe we must show her respect. Tracking her in such a way will just make her angry and may be a deterrent in and of itself. She’s scared, but smart and extremely willful. If she knew we were still tracking her through her sword Chefe, then she would moderate her behavior. I know her well enough now to know how she will proceed.”
“Then what measures have you taken to ensure that she reaches the destination that we desire?”
“There will be eyes upon her from beginning to end. I promise you. She will not be able to take any step without us knowing. She will reach her final destination. We will know of it, and we will be able to react to it.”
There was silence, and then, “Does she know what that final destination will be?”
“No.”
“So, she does not know that she will become the third mask?”
Heliodoro shed a tear and shook his head. “Not yet.”