Page 63 of Play of Shadows

‘Speak, Veristor,’ Rhyleis said, her voice cutting across the hall. She was staring at me.

They all were.

‘Really, it’s nothing– it’s just. . . for a moment there, I thought. . .’ I looked back at Ornella, but all I saw now was an ageing silver-haired woman – handsome, yes, but no ghost from the past come to haunt the present. ‘Honestly, I’m just tired.’

It was a feeble lie. I think the others would have let it go, but a strange thing happened then: Ellias Abastrini, the man who’d so recently and convincingly threatened to beat me to death, walked over and put a hand on my shoulder. ‘I know little of the Veristor’s art,’ he confessed, which was a dangerous admission for someone who’d built his career on that particular fiction, ‘but an actor must heed their instincts. What are yours telling you?’

Whatever I say now will only give false hope to these men and women whose livelihoods– and lives– are at risk because of me.

But they were all waiting on me, and I found I couldn’t lie to them.

‘What if Roslyn wasn’t killed solely because the Iron Orchids couldn’t get their hands on me?’ I asked.

‘What do you mean?’ Shoville asked, a fire coming to his cheeks. ‘Would you accuse poor Roz of having dealings with such ruffians? I’ll not hear such slander– do you hear me? I’ll not—’

Ornella put a hand on his arm. ‘Damelas is the last person to spread gossip or innuendo, Hujo. Let him finish.’

Shoville grumbled something under his breath, but settled. He never could raise his voice to Ornella.

‘Our Lord Director is right,’ I said. ‘Roz was too canny– and she cared too much about her family– to involve herself in anything reckless or criminal.’

‘Then why is she dead?’ Teo asked.

‘What if. . .’ I almost couldn’t bring myself to suggest it. ‘What if she was playing her roletoowell last night? Not the bawdy winks and seductive poses during the opening scenes, but later, outsidethe fortress, when I. . . when the play changed.’

‘Her performancedidchange,’ Beretto agreed. ‘All of ours did as we tried to follow your cues.’

Teo and Abastrini nodded thoughtfully, but I could see doubt in Shoville’s expression. Still, the more I gave voice to this strange thought I was having, the more convinced I was that it might just be true.

‘What if it’s not Corbier’s story the Iron Orchids want to keep from being revealed, but Ajelaine’s?’ I asked. ‘What if somehow she’s th—’

‘Yes!’ Beretto interrupted suddenly, clapping his hands together, excitement reddening his cheeks. ‘Yes, damn it–sheis the key to this. Think about it: Lady Ajelaine has always been at the centre of the war between Pierzi and Corbier– all the battles and the intrigues, the fight for the crown – all of it! Damelas isright, by all the saints virtuous and venal– this is no tale of princes vying for a throne. It’s a love story. It’sherstory!’

A ripple of surprise went through the room and the anger that had filled the hall minutes before trickled away as everyone began speculating on what this might mean for the play.

A love story, and a truth someone wants to keep buried that can only be uncovered if we continue the performance. . .

But that would require someone to play Lady Ajelaine.

All eyes turned to Bida, who was shuffling nervously from foot to foot.

‘I-I’m sorry,’ she stammered, ‘but I can’t. N-not now.’ Her hands were unconsciously cradling her still-flat belly, but she’d made no secret of her current condition.

‘My father is ill,’ Dalca said quickly. She was a strapping girl, but she’d understudied Roslyn’s roles before. ‘He’s barely hanging on– who will care for him if I’m hanging from a post with spikes in my skull?’

They’ve all got people they love, families who depend on them.I shared a disheartened glance with Shoville.

‘I will perform the play alone,’ I announced.

Nervous guffaws filled the room at my ridiculous suggestion, but I persisted, ‘It’s been done before. . .’

Admittedly, a solto fabulata was a poor sort of a play: sitting through a performance from an actor interacting with an imaginary cast was like watching a madman talking to ghosts, but it would keep all eyes– and weapons– focused on me. Hopefully that would leave the rest of the company untainted by whatever outrage I provoked.

I can do this,I thought.Tonight, I will step out onto that stage and give Corbier his moment beneath the lights. I will let him utter any heretical treason he wants, and when he’s finally done? I’ll turn tail and run as fast and as far as my feet will take me. I’ve always been an excellent runner, after all.

I could almost feel the fear in the hall dissipating, leaving room for the grief for Roslyn that would follow, but an instant later, even that feeble hope was dashed.

‘The duke will not allow a solo performance,’ Shariza said quietly. ‘He requires this play to continue with its full cast. The audience must be convinced that what they are witnessing is revealed truth, not the rantings of a desperate actor more concerned with hiding his fellow players than in uncovering what the past has to tell us.’

---