Page 102 of Play of Shadows
A cheer went up as the last of the Iron Orchids fled, the duke’s soldiers in pursuit. I doubted they’d get far.
But looking around, my grin faded. Bodies littered the alley, far too many of them Knights of the Curtain– but even more were wearing armour adorned with the orchid symbol. Actors, crew and alley-rats alike hugged and shouted of their victory while the massive torch that was all that remained of the Belleza shot sparks into the night sky, a signal fire to the Gods of Love and Craft that one of their greatest temples was no more.
‘What’s the matter, brother?’ Beretto asked. ‘Are your wounds. . . ?’
I shook my head, only then noticing the dampness of tears on my cheeks. I tried to cover them up with a joke. ‘Just imagininghow much of a bonus Zina will be expecting from poor Shoville now. As if the little swindler wasn’t already a bane on our poor director’s pur—’ I stopped abruptly, feeling the blood drain from my face. I grabbed Beretto. ‘Zina wasn’t in the hall when this started. Did she—?’
I turned to the crowded alleyway and began shouting her name over and over, screaming at the others to shut up so I could hear her answer, but no answer came.
I found Tolsi huddled against a wall and had to shake him from a confused trance. ‘Where’s Zina?’ I demanded urgently. ‘Was she with you?’
The boy gave no reply, just scrunched himself as small as he could, as if trying to hide from the world.
I shook him harder. ‘When did you see her? Was she inside? Talk to me, Tolsi!’
‘The boy’s in shock,’ Teo said, trying to pull me away, then someone else grabbed my elbow and yanked me around.
‘I saw her,’ Ornella said. Her long silver hair was black with smoke and grit and dirt, her wrinkled skin covered in cuts and bruises. She was still clutching her makeshift club. ‘I saw her this morning. Shoville had her mending costumes. . .’ She started coughing again, then managed to croak out, ‘Saint Ethalia-who-shares-all-sorrows. . . she was in the basement—’
But by then I was already running towards the fire-ravaged stage door, ignoring the smoke billowing from it and pushing my way into the ruins of the Operato Belleza.
Chapter 49
Affairs of Honour
Someone, probably Beretto, tried to stop me, but I still had enough of Corbier’s memories to strike just the right spot on my best friend’s wrist to free me from his grip. I made my escape, shoving past Teo, who tried to bar my path next, and ignoring Beretto shouting, ‘Damelas,stop!You’ll light up like a candle wick!’
Blinded by the smoke, I tried to call out Zina’s name, but instantly fell to coughing as I stumbled through the smouldering hallway. The overwhelming heat was already singeing my clothes, and at every step I felt sure I would break through the disintegrating floorboards.
‘Zina,’ I croaked again, pressing forward into the hellish heat and smothering walls of smoke, but still there was no answer.
You’re going to die, I thought I heard Corbier say, but it was my own voice this time. I tried to ignore it, desperate to believe that I could make it through the smoke and fire by sheer force of will. I pleaded silently with any saint who might be listening, praying they would keep Zina safe until I got to her. . .
Whoever it was who’d answered my prayer was surely no saint, but a demon: a monster looming out of the smoky gloom. The shadowy, misshapen silhouette was the colour of blood, itslimbs too many in number, some thick as tree-trunks, others emaciated, dangling limp from its torso. The creature spoke no words but growled as it came stomping towards me as if intending to crush me underfoot.
As a boy, I’d laughed at my grandfather’s tales of devils and demons lurking under the bed, waiting for badly behaved children to go to sleep so they could feast on their entrails. Now I wasn’t so sure. I reached for my rapier, forgetting I’d abandoned it in the alley when I’d run back into the theatre.
Suddenly the demon charged me– and as it did, it croaked, ‘Get out of the way, you artless, boil-brained codpiece!’
Ellias Abastrini’s bulk was enveloped in one of the Belleza’s crimson curtains, which he must have soaked in water, judging by the vast quantities of steam pouring off him. He was carrying Zina’s limp form in his arms. Stumbling backwards, I caught my footing just in time, then turned and raced ahead, kicking aside burning debris to clear a path.
The moment we emerged into the alley, Grey Mags ignored her own numerous burns and cuts and took charge of Zina. ‘She’s alive!’ Mags cried in disbelief, ‘and there’s barely a scratch or a burn on her!’
The same could not be said for Abastrini, whose hair was a tangle of charred ends framing his soot-covered face. His eyes were haunted, like those of a man who’d escaped from the deepest Hells, only to leave his soul behind.
‘Saint Laina’s blessed bosom,’ Beretto shouted, trying to hold Abastrini up, ‘I’ll never call you anything less than a hero from now on—’
But Abastrini had collapsed, sobbing, to the ground.
‘There, there, man,’ Beretto murmured, ‘no shame in it, mate, not after what you’ve—’
‘I did nothing,’ Abastrini wept.
‘You saved the girl—’
He shook his head wildly, sending the freely flowing tears flying. ‘It was Hujo– all Hujo.’
‘Shoville?’ I asked, only now realising that I hadn’t seen the director since we’d breached the Orchids’ line. All the strength drained from me and I sank down next to Abastrini, who was gulping his words like a sobbing child.
