By Mike Reeves-Mcmillan
Urban of mask is a swashbuckling event in a surroundings comparable to Shakespeare's Italy (complete with twins). within the city-state of Bonvidaeo, through customized and legislations all people needs to put on a masks and act in personality with it, or face civil, social and non secular consequences. Gregorius Bass is shipped to Bonvidaeo because the Envoy of Calaria, basically to get him out from underfoot. Masked because the blameless guy, and within the corporation of his radical younger Bonvidaoan servant, Bass stumbles into secret, intrigue, heresy and homicide.
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Sample text
Sam: I fear you are right, my friend. Roi: As for my other loss – well, little loss enough, I have foresworn women in any case, and I had enough use of it for one lifetime. I have been nineteen years old for almost nineteen years. The time, I think, has come to change masks. Sam: Change masks? What will you do? Roi: I have the Book of Masks by heart, and yet I do not know. Sam: Go to the Keeper of Masks and ask him, then. Roi: Perhaps I will, Samat. Perhaps I will. And you, what will you do? Sam: I have another life already in the Temple, and it begins to draw me.
But if – but how – but why – " I asked, gesturing between the two. "He is my friend," explained the good old man, knowing what I was trying to ask without having to see the gestures. And when he said it, it was enough of an explanation. "So what of this plot? They have kept it carefully enough from me, I need not tell you," said Tamas to Corius after some silence. "Crossbows," he summarised. "Not one, but many, hidden under cloaks. One might miss, or one man be captured. They will pack the crowd, fill the upper windows.
Corius reports you a kind master who serves his country and his countrymen with the most devoted loyalty. Loyalty 41 is so important, as my mistress the Countess said to me only the other day. Indeed, my poor mother gave up her health in loyal service of the Countess, getting her terrible injuries when that evil assassin attacked her carriage – the Countess's carriage, I mean – and panicked the horses and they dashed it against a bridge-railing and it fell into the Lower Streets. Oh, it was awful, Mysir, and I remember it like yesterday, for all it was seven years come next Equinox and I but a girl.