Page 22 of Play of Shadows
Abastrini pretented to be driven back by Corbier’s longsword thrust, giving me a brief moment to catch my breath. ‘And how shall you hear their song when I’ve chopped the ears from your head, Corbier?’
‘You’re saying it wrong,’ I noted absently, kneeling to pick up my sword. I checked to make sure the chipped blade wasn’t about to snap in half. Now that we were trading lines rather than blows, the suffocating panic that had been assailing me began to ebb.
‘What did you just say to me?’ Abastrini demanded.
It surprised me that he’d misread the script so badly. ‘The Pierzi line is, “No songs hears a man without ears.” And he didn’t say it like you did, like he was angry. He laughed, as if the whole thing was a big joke.’
Abastrini’s eyes narrowed. ‘Have you lost your senses? Did I crack your skull and not notice? I’ve been playing Pierzi for years, and this line Shoville’s lifted isexactlythe same as the old play– and besides, how on earth would a talentless supernumerary like you know how to deliver the prince’s lines? You’ve never played the part, and so far as I’ve been able to tell, never paid the least attention when your betters were doing so.’
‘I must have heard someone saying it,’ I muttered, only that wasn’t true. Every other actor I’d ever seen play Pierzi did it exactly the same as Abastrini. But for some reason, that enraged, bombastic delivery felt. . . well,falsesomehow. The long, sleepless nights bent over the histories of Pierzi and Corbier had left me with the sense that their feud had been less one of bloodthirsty melodrama and more. . . more a friendly competition between brothers gone terribly awry. Of course, none of that explained why I’d just denigrated the acting of aviolent narcissist to his face.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said, mustering as much sincerity as I could as I went to replace my wooden sword on the rack. ‘I’m not feeling myself today. Perhaps we should leave off the duel scene for now.’
Unfortunately for me, the Veristor had other ideas. ‘You tremulous little turd!’ he howled. ‘You ruin my show, worm your way into my script– and now you have the gall to tellmehow to delivermylines?’
I barely had time to notice Abastrini’s white-knuckled, two-handed grip on his wooden sword before he brought the blade high above his head and launched into the next scene, cutting mercilessly and ceaselessly at me without even giving me time to deliver my own lines in return.
‘And do I, Pierzi, son of Petrovian, upon the loathsome husk of thine body lay my claim upon all the devils of thy soul—’
‘Abastrini,stop!’ I shouted, backing away as quickly as my feet would take me from the maddened Veristor’s swinging blade.
‘For crimes most foul do a foul death demand!’
‘Please, I’m not ready! Just give me—’
With surprising speed, Abastrini slammed the flat of his blade into my stomach. I doubled over in blinding pain, only to have thick fingers grab my hair and force my head back up.
‘Let this verdict an answer give in the name of those voices silenced,’ Abastrini intoned, laying his blade on my shoulder in the way of an executioner awaiting the command to lop off a condemned man’s head.
‘Those twin babes, their murders unspeakable, shall at last mark the end of your perfidy. Let their twice-blessed flesh, corrupted by your foul touch, their innocence, taken by yo—’
A chill spread through me, but it wasn’t fear this time. Something far colder took hold– so cold that Abastrini’s wooden blade on my shoulder felt like a burning torch setting ablaze thewords that now slipped unbidden from my lips.
‘Speak not of those children to me, Pierzi. Never again utter their names, nor invoke their memories– for the truth, however deeply buried in your lies, will cry out from my sword, and this bloody blade will be made holy as I carve the indictment of child-slayer so plainly upon your worthless hide that even the rats and ravens will leave your corpse untouched!’
Abastrini lurched back as if struck by a blow. ‘What did you just say?’
All at once– and far too late– my senses returned to me. An ache in my hands caused me to look down and see that my fists were clenched so tightly that my fingernails had dug into my palms.
‘I. . . I’m sorry. I think my fever has returned. I’ve been reading those books over and over, I just need a little sleep. If I could have a moment to rest?’
A slow smile crept up from the corners of Abastrini’s mouth. He nodded his head knowingly as the tip of his sword bobbed in the air between us. ‘I see what you’re doing now– it all makes perfect sense!’
‘Really, I just need to sit a while and get my head togeth—’
‘You putrid little schemer,’ Abastrini spat. ‘You’ve been rewriting the script yourself, haven’t you? You’re letting that fool Shoville shit out his endless pages of twaddle, but on the night, you’re going to alter the story and force the rest of the cast to play along!’
‘I’m not, I swear, if I could just—’
‘And why wouldn’t you? Once the curtain goes up, the Veristor runs the show and everyone else must follow. You’ll throw away the director’s script and make Corbier the hero simply by changing a few lines.’
‘That’s never been my. . . Please, put down the sword and letme—’
Abastrini stared down at his weapon as if he’d forgotten its existence. A snarl, low and rumbling, erupted from somewhere deep in his chest. He raised the sword up high, one hand on the pommel and the other on the blade, only to bring it crashing down against his raised knee, smashing it to pieces. He tossed the remnants away and grabbed me by the neck.
‘You haven’t a shred of respect for the art,’ he snarled. ‘You have no skill, no talent, no love for this sacred place save for what pathetic rewards it can bring to your worthless existence.’
The sour scent of stale wine filled my nostrils as I tried to protest, but I couldn’t draw breath. I tore futilely at the fingers fast around my throat, and when that failed, I tried clawing at Abastrini’s face, but I couldn’t reach past those meaty arms. The rehearsal hall became blurry, contracting as my vision narrowed to a hazy tunnel through which I could see nothing but the fury in Abastrini’s eyes.
