Page 51 of Play of Shadows
‘Gods, Beretto, listen to yourself– these similes? They’re why Shoville never wants to buy your scripts—’
‘Pah! Shoville doesn’t know talent when it kicks him in the arse. He runs from passion like a cat scurries from thrown water. No wonder his love scenes are so tame. . .’ His voice tailed off and a lascivious grin appeared.
‘What are you smiling about, Beretto?’ I asked, my stomach suddenly queasy– and not from Mother’s chicken.
The big man broke out laughing. ‘You and Roz– I swear, for a second there, I thought we were going to spend the third act watching the two of you fucking like weasels.’ He wagged a finger at me. ‘I shall be most disappointed in you, brother, if you don’t do exactly that at tonight’s performance.’
‘I’ve had enough people threaten me with knives lately,’ I reminded him. ‘I don’t need Roslyn slitting my throat in front of a packed theatre.’
‘Itwouldmake for quite a surprise ending to our play if the legendarily fidelitous Lady Ajelaine should slay Corbier after a raunchy bout of rumpy-pumpy. Now that I think on it, an endinglike that might please our public mightily.’ He waved a hand in the air. ‘But no, I fear Roz would not agree. Oh, and speaking of the devilishly voluptuous one, she wanted me to tell you that you’re to arrive at the Belleza an hour early tonight.’
‘Why? Has Shoville called another rehearsal?’
‘No, Roz wants to practise your kissing scene together. You know, on the off-chance you don’t faint tonight before getting to the good part? Looks like she fancies you rotten now that you’re not quite so abominable an actor.’
A hearty endorsement, that, and it might even have been gratifying, if I had been more interested and Roslyn less married. Besides, the audience might not take kindly to witnessing vile Corbier and saintly Ajelaine in an adulterous embrace.
‘Beretto, I’m really worried about the company– about what will happen to all of us if this play continues.’ I set my plate down on the floor and went to stand by the wooden-shuttered window, my thoughts turning back to the encounters with Duke Monsegino, the Vixen, and above all, Lady Shariza, who half the time looked as if she were awaiting the command to kill me, and the other half as if she feared for me. I spread the window slats with my fingers.
‘There’s a. . . a darkness out there, Beretto. The Iron Orchids are so much worse than we ever knew, and these laws they’re proposing? They’re cruel and despicable. I don’t know why, but after what happened outside the Belleza, with the other companies being paid to attack me, I’m becoming convinced that someone believes the means to stop the Orchids is hidden within the tale of Corbier and Ajelaine.’
‘Yes,’ Beretto said, thumping his fist against his own chest again, ‘yes!Thisis why the gods created the theatre: Art in the service of Chaos! Actors giving shape to the truth until it shakes the very foundations of the world!’
His enthusiasm was beginning to sound perilously close to all that Bardatti bravado and Rhyleis’ admonitions that I ought to be out there, rapier in hand, challenging the Iron Orchids, the Vixen and everyone else who dared scheme against my homeland.
‘You keep talking about this as if it’s all some grand adventure,’ I yelled at him, unable to contain my consternation any longer. ‘You greatidiot! Stop preening on about the theatre and the importance of actors– we’re calledplayers, Beretto, because what we do is just a game. . . only now it’s a game that’s going to get someone killed—’
‘Not if we outwit our enemies and draw them out of the shadows and into the light—’
‘Outwitthem? Are you mad? You think I want to set myself at war with the most powerful people in this city? Whose “wits” am I to rely on, you oaf?Yours?’
Beretto’s smile faded. His shoulders slumped. ‘I’m sorry, brother. I didn’t mean to. . . It’s just. . .’
For a moment he looked so much as if he were about to cry that I wondered if this was some joke, that Beretto would suddenly jump up and start laughing at my gullibility. But no, spite was foreign to his nature . . .
What’s wrong with me? How deep in my bones has Corbier’s bitter spirit permeated that I would talk this way to a better friend than I’ve ever known or deserved?
‘Saints damn me, Beretto, I’m sorry.’
He shook his head. ‘No, no, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t be making light of the dangers you’re facing– the Vixen, the Orchids, the Black Amaranth– but. . . . well, it’s just that part of me. . . No, forget it. I’m not nearly drunk enough to make sense.’
‘Tell me.’
He was silent for a while. When at last he spoke again, his voice was quiet, almost timid. ‘I wanted to be a Greatcoat, ever since Iwas a boy– you know that. I wanted to be the one who rides into danger with naught but a good cause, a sharp blade and a fool’s smile. I’m big. I’m strong. I can fight. So why not me? But I spent every penny I had travelling to Aramor, begged King Paelis to let me join his magistrates. “Justice isn’t a performance.” That’s what he told me. “The Greatcoats need duellists and magistrates, not players.”’
That wasn’t so different from what my grandmother used to fling at me when I refused to practise my sword fighting. ‘So it turns out the great King Paelis was an arsehole.’
‘No– no,’ he said earnestly, ‘I mean, sure, I was disappointed– heartbroken, in fact. But it was more than that, because after we’d all been seen, the King took me aside and he said, “The world needs stories as much as it needs verdicts. It wants for hope even more than justice. These times call for Bardatti as much they do for Greatcoats.”’ Beretto chuckled. ‘So I went off to join the Bardatti, only it turned out they weren’t interested, either.’
And here I was, grumbling about being called a Veristor– an honour of such magnitude I could scarcely fathom its meaning, never mind appreciate such undeserved fortune. Saints, what a vain, self-important fool I’d been, whining endlessly about a curse that was, in Beretto’s eyes, a gift beyond price.
‘I’m sorry, Beretto. I’ve been a fool—’
He waved the apology away. ‘Well, fools and jesters used to be actors too, so I suppose it makes sense.’ He walked over and put a meaty hand on my shoulder. ‘I don’t mind, honestly I don’t. If my role in all this is to help you become a true Veristor, to stand by your side and knock a few heads out of the way so that you can speak truth to power, well then, I’ll count myself as lucky an actor as has ever lived.’
I found it hard to speak in the face of such unearned loyalty.
So maybe now’s the time to start earning it.
