Page 150 of Play of Shadows

Then he stood, straightened his back and said, ‘We made Hujo Shoville proud. That’s what we did.’

Ornella came to his side. ‘We gave the people of this city reason for hope. Hujo would’ve liked that.’

‘Nah,’ Grey Mags said, clacking the brass percussion discs that never left her fingers any more. ‘What we did is, we gave them feckin’ Orchids cause to fear us.’

A few among the crew gave her sidelong glances as if she, an alley-rat only recently elevated into their company, had no business speaking so boldly on this hallowed ground, and Mags, like most folk who knew what it was to be ignored, went silent and stared down at her patched and ragged shoes.

How brittle we are, I thought, witnessing this woman, who’d shown herself as brave as any soldier in defending her city, now collapsed in on herself.It’s as if the gods, caring so little for their creation, fashioned humanity from glass so fragile we can shatter each other with a single dirty look.

The gods, however, hadn’t counted on the heart of Beretto Bravi, which was so big it could encompass half the world and keep safe the spirits of all those he embraced.

‘Rightly said, Mags,’ he chuckled. ‘Nothing would’ve made Hujo Shoville shit himself with joy more than the knowledge that all of us here, his Knights of the Curtain, had taught the thugs and bully-boys of this city to scurry away when players come calling!’

Cheers rose from all assembled and they nodded at each other– and at Mags too. Grinning, she clacked her percussion discs alongside the clapping of hands and stomping of feet.

That’s my best friend, I thought, watching in wonder as Beretto took Mags by the arm and led her into a whirling dance.My brother.

When the impromptu celebration stopped for breath, they turned once again to me, no doubt wondering why I hadn’t joined in. They wanted something from me– a grand speech, a closing soliloquy; anything that would give them an excuseto cheer once more and then go home, to dream of putting on ever-more-fabulous productions for what would surely be adoring throngs of theatregoers awaiting our next play.

‘I’m leaving,’ I said.

The clamour and the smiles died down.

‘You’rewhat?’ Teo demanded. ‘Tell me I didn’t just hear you sa—’

‘I’m leaving the company. I’m leaving Jereste.’

The others started shouting questions, but Teo refused to be denied his moment of outrage. ‘Now? You’re leaving usnow? When the Orchids have been beaten, the Vixen is dead and weliterallysaved the life of the Duke of Pertine? He’s promised to rebuild the Belleza– every noble I encounter is practicallybeggingto empty his pockets for a front-row seat at our first production—’ He shook his fists at the sky as if threatening the gods themselves. ‘How could even you be so damnably inconsider—?’

His final indictment was cut off when Abastrini’s thick hand clamped over his mouth.

‘You see what happens when you allow one of these scurrilous bit players even one monologue? Can’t shut them up after that.’ Abastrini waved at me. ‘Go on, then, explain yourself, Veristor.’

Ever since I’d awakened in the duke’s chamber and discovered I hadn’t died from pushing my unwanted gift further than my body could withstand, I’d been searching for the right words to say goodbye to this family of mine. I’d tried convincing myself that the vow I’d made a hundred years in the past to that shadowy figure looming over Corbier’s dying body had been spurious, not something Fate could hold me to. But despite all the things I didn’t know, as I’d told my grandfather this morning, of this one thing I was certain: my path led away from Jereste.

‘You’re going hunting, aren’t you?’ Shariza asked.

These past few days, she had taken to holding my hand when it trembled from exhaustion, or when I remembered too keenly the moment Corbier’s heart had stopped. Her closeness was a constant reminder that I was still alive, and that there were things to live for.

‘Hunting?’ Beretto asked. ‘What is she talking about, brother?’ He swung an arm out to the city street beyond the ruins. ‘We won, didn’t we?’

‘We won,’ I acknowledged. ‘And that’s how it always works in the best stories, isn’t it?’ I asked the others. ‘Brave heroes overcome impossible odds to rescue the prince in his tower or to slay the serpent in its lair. The villains flee, the innocent rejoice.’

‘Sounds awful,’ Teo groaned, yanking Abastrini’s hand from his mouth. ‘I can see why you’re insisting that we all be properly depressed about our victory.’

‘Tell me what happensafterthe victory, Teo?’

‘Simple. The heroes get fucking drunk and sleep with every rich, beautiful man and woman in the city– which some of us would very much like to get to, if you could manage not to ruin everyth—’

Teo stumbled, his eyes unfocused. Abastrini had clubbed him on the side of the head with a meaty fist. The blow hadn’t been enough to knock him out, but it did shut him up long enough for me to continue.

‘The Court of Flowers know all about our stories. They know how we think, how we live.’ I limped over to a broken column and leaned against it. ‘These people. . . I’m telling you, theyplanfor defeat. In each failure, they plant the seeds for future victories. We think in terms of two-hour performances. Soldiers think in ten-day battles. The Court of Flowers. . . they plan entire generations ahead.’

‘Forgive me,’ Bida began, her slender fingers winding anxiously in the locks of her long blonde hair, ‘but what do they want fromus?’

I looked out beyond the rubble of the Belleza at this city. For most of my life, Jereste had been my entire world. I was only now beginning to understand how small a place it was.

Rhyleis started plucking the strings of her guitar, conjuring a melody dark and full of disquiet. ‘They want it all. This city, this duchy – perhaps all of Tristia.’ She struck an angry chord. ‘Listen to me, all of you. What happened here in Jereste was nothing but an opening skirmish with the enemy. Chalmers, the First Cantor of the Greatcoats, sent me here because this is not the first evidence we have seen of their machinations.’

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