Page 10 of Play of Shadows
‘Well, hold it together, lad,’ Shoville advised. ‘The herald is a vital role.’
His encouragement would have been more cheering had I not once seen him telling a stagehand who was standing in place of a tree the carpenters hadn’t yet constructed, ‘Magnificent. A pivotal role performed with sublime conviction!’
Shoville was clapping me on the shoulder, my earlier infractions in the alley apparently forgotten. ‘Come now, boy. Give it your all– remember, ’tis your last line that will bring the audience leaping to their feet, a flush of civic pride to their cheeks as they roar out their approbation!’
Chastened by the director’s inspiring tone, I determined that this time I would properly repay his faith in me.
Shake it off, Damelas,I told myself.Your grandmother used to walk into the duelling circle on steadier legs than yours when you take the stage. All you have to do is walk out to your mark, pick up the sword waiting for you, turn to the audience and announce Prince Pierzi’s ‘noble victory’—
I thumped my thigh in frustration. I couldn’t even get the line right in my thoughts. ‘Triumph, damn it,’ I swore. ‘Triumph!’
A thunderous bellow filled the stage as Abastrini, in the role of saidtriumphantPrince, drowned out the death knell of theactor playing his nemesis as he plunged the sword into Archduke Corbier’s dark heart. The poor fellow playing Corbier couldn’t even get out his final words over Abastrini’s newly concocted victory speech.
Triumph, I reminded myself yet again.That stupid word is going to get me fired.
‘Oh, I almost forgot,’ Shoville said cheerfully, favouring me with a sly grin. ‘You’ve a guest in tonight’s audience.’
‘A guest?’
The director wagged a finger at me. ‘You know I usually frown upon actors inviting their paramours to our renowned historias– unless, of course, they’ve purchased a ticket—’
I was simultaneously confused and horrified. ‘My Lord Director, if one of the alley-rats—’
‘Alley-rats?’ Shoville chuckled, giving me what I suspected was meant to be an admiring wink. ‘I’d hardly call the radiant vision of womanhood who introduced herself to me as Lady Ferica di Traizo an alley-rat!’
My knees buckling, I grabbed Shoville for support. ‘My L-Lord Director,’ I heard myself stammer, ‘if this is some sort of jest, I promise you, it’s in poor—’
‘Jest? Don’t be silly. I never jest when noble ladies deign to attend one of our performances.’ His face took on a curious expression as he tapped a finger to his chin. ‘That name, though. Lady Ferica di Traizo. It’s familiar – and yet I cannot quite place it. Mind, she certainly possesses a rather . . . feral beauty. Tell me, lad, might this tawny-haired delight consider joining our company? I am sorely in need of a new ingénue. . .’
The nausea coiling in my belly was threatening to slither up my throat, but I choked it down. ‘I fear, Lord Director, her interests lie elsewhere, for she is known by a different name throughout the city.’
‘And what is this illustrious sobriquet?’
‘The Vixen.’
Shoville paled when he heard the name. ‘Why in the world would you bring a notorious duellist– a professionalmurderer– into my theatre?’
‘That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you! I didn’t invite her!
What in the name of Saint Felsan-who-weighs-the-world was the Vixen doing at the Belleza? Ducal law forbade her from coming after me while the duelling writ between us was held in abeyance.
Unless a noblewoman with the ear of the new duke might be able to convince him to overrule that suspension. . .
Abastrini’s improvised monologue finally ended with a trumpeted closing line that ought to have come ten minutes earlier.
‘Damelas,’ Shoville hissed, apparently now less concerned about a vicious killer in the audience than the possibility of the show running even longer, ‘that’s your cue, boy!’
Sick with fear, I looked down to see the reflections from the flickering flames of the hanging lanterns in the rafters above turn the boards at my feet into a miasma of fire and shadow.
‘Go, noble herald!’ Shoville thumped me on the back so hard I lost my balance and went reeling onto the stage. ‘Make magic happen before our very eyes—’
Chapter 5
Three Little Lines
Silence has no substance, but it does have weight. Some silences are as light and airy as the space between the telling of a joke and the ensuing laughter. Others are heavy, the uncomfortable pause that never seems to end and which slowly drowns you beneath the depths of despair. When an actor imagines death, it is into such a silence he feels himself sinking.
‘Make magic happen before our very eyes,’ Shoville had said.
