Page 93 of Play of Shadows
‘Now Ellias,’ Shoville began, trying to placate the man, ‘let’s not quarrel over petty—’
‘Petty?’ Abastrini interrupted. With his broadsword clutched tightly in his fingers as if he were about to charge into battle, he strode up to the director, his belly practically bowling the man over. ‘You think I care about the billing? Roslyndied– and still you prattle on about trivialities. You pretend all is going according to plan, when I and every member of this once-noble company are forced to betray every principle on which the Knights of the Curtain were founded. We areactors, not court jesters! When the Belleza was first given over to us, you spouted a grand speech about how we would never prostitute ourselves to the whims of the mob. We would bring the historias to life on stage with dignity and integrity. You promised we would show the people of this city a deeper truth than the Lords of Laughter or the Grim Jesters would ever dare. Yet now you’ve allowed this damned Violet Duke– thisforeigner– to treat the Belleza as his game board, with us the pieces he moves here and there, laughing all the while as we dance to his tune—’
‘Enough!’ Shoville bellowed, so entirely out of character that it brought the room to silence– if only for a moment.
‘You ought not raise your voice against us,Lord Director,’ Abastrini warned. ‘Have you forgotten? You may rule us while the play is on, but this run will soon be completed and then it’s up tothe companywhether to renew your contract’– he looked around, milking the dramatic pause – ‘or to seek direction elsewhere.’
‘Then do so,’ Shoville said, his scowl for once as dark and threatening as Abastrini’s. ‘Take the Belleza from me if you think you’ve the votes.’ It was his turn to press a finger into Abastrini’s shoulder. ‘But as you so rightly point out, Ellias, this playisstill running, which meansIcommand the Knights of the Curtain as surely as any general in the field– and believe me, I will take just as dim a view of desertion or mutiny.’ He gave Abastrini a surprisingly forceful shove, causing the actor to stumble backwards. ‘So get to your damned position or I’ll see to it the entire duchy knows you for a faithless half-penny player!’
Even the great Ellias Abastrini went pale at that threat. He returned to his perch by the window, but couldn’t resist the final word. ‘Tonight we do as you say, Shoville, but tomorrow – and my oath on this – tomorrow will be the last time you walk through the doors of this hallowed hall whose honour and dignity you have sold so cheaply.’
The first skirmish might have been over but the tension wasn’t dissipating. Sides were being drawn and the Knights of the Curtain were as divided as Pierzi’s and Corbier’s forces had been all those years ago. Almost half the company supported Shoville, but as many were behind Abastrini. I was beginning to wonder if we might end up staging anactualbattle before the day was out.
‘Saint Iphilia-who-cuts-her-own-heart,’ Grey Mags swore, elbowing me in the ribs, ‘you actors really are prone to melodrama, aren’t you?’
‘Positions, everyone,’ Shoville called out. ‘Pierzi’s troops on the left, Corbier’s on the right. Stagger the lines to fill out the space. Foggers, have you the smoke braziers ready?’
The crew on either side of the hall nodded their assent and began measuring greyburn powder.
‘And now, Master Veristor,’ Shoville announced, ‘take command.’
Take command? I don’t have a clue what Corbier did at the Battle of Mount Cruxia, even less how to command an army. . .
‘What am I to say?’ I asked. ‘Should I give some of Pierzi’s lines from the first—?’
‘Forget the lines, lad,’ Shoville said. ‘They mean nothing.’
Teo snorted. ‘So speaks our noble director and playwright.’
Shoville ignored him and squeezed my shoulder. ‘This is war!’ He gestured around at the actors. ‘Men and women are fighting–dying. Chaos and fire spreads all around you; smoke chokes your lungs and blinds you. What you say next could determine whether those who have entrusted their lives to you will survive, or perish at the hands of the man who killed your wife and sons.Thatis where our tale begins.’
I gazed out at the wide rehearsal hall, squinting as I tried to observe not the dusty floor and idle actors gazing back at me in bored irritation, but hardened warriors, eyes wide with both terror and rage. I pictured blood spilling all around me, desperate men staring at me, awaiting my commands, knowing death was coming for all of us.
Saint Zaghev-who-sings-for-tears. . . a man would have to be mad to accept such a burden.
‘Yes, yes!’ Shoville cried, peering up at me despite the fact I hadn’t said anything yet. ‘You’re there, in the shit and mud, boy, I can feel it! Now, lead your army—’
I focused my thoughts inwards, seeking out Corbier’s voice, but the Archduke remained silent.
Come on, damn you, give me something. You’re the one so Hells-bent on revenging yourself against the prince– although why you would’ve cared about the battle itself when all you wanted was to find Pierzi—
Wait. . . is that where the scene really begins? Not at the beginning of the battle, but at the end, when it’s just Corbier and Pierzi facing off against each other?
That first night, when I’d blacked out on stage after the climax of the play had gone to the seven Hells, I hadn’t even been able to recall what I’d said that had got the audience so up in arms. Beretto had filled me in afterwards– something about calling Pierzi a. . .
‘Foul deceiver!’ I cried, drawing my sword from its scabbard and pointing it at Abastrini across the hall. ‘You have lied to your people, murdered your enemy’s lover, butchered his children– and now you would slay their father with that same poisoned blade? You called for a herald, you dog? Here stands your messenger. I will travel these lands and see to it that the entire world learns the truth: that you who would make yourself sovereign are naught but the vilest malefactor in all of history!’
The whole cast was staring at me, wide-eyed in confusion, but I could tell they felt it, too. Something was shivering inside them, vibrating, like a hammer striking against stone. . .
‘Yes,’ Shoville murmured, ‘yes, that’s it,that’swhere our final act begins.’
Abastrini strode forward to meet me in the centre of the hall, and in the gleam of his feral smile, I saw he was ready to follow this dark thread as far as it led.
Despite the confidence both he and Shoville were showing in me, I wasn’t at all certain I’d got this right. There was no tell-tale feverishness as there had been the other times Corbier had taken me over. But Iwasfeelingsomething: a tension in my muscles, a rushing in my blood– the physical reactions my grandparentsalways spoke of as presaging a fight to the death. I didn’t have to squint my eyes any more to imagine the fog creeping up over the rocky field in front of me.
‘It’s working,’ Teo said, amazed. ‘I can smell the smoke, feel the heat of the fires– I can hear the thump of boot heels, as if an army were marching towards us even now.’ He glanced around at the rest of us in awe. ‘Does that mean I’m a Veristor as well?’
The haze was becoming a bit excessive, but when I looked over at Hiraj and Caleth, the company’s foggers, they were staring at each other in confusion; neither had fed their greyburn powder into the braziers yet.
