Page 75 of Play of Shadows

Rhyleis spun on me, grabbed the lapels of my threadbare coat and demanded, ‘Whatdid you call me, Player?’

‘I’m sorry,’ I stammered, ‘I don’t know why I—’

My teeth clamped shut so quickly I nearly bit my own tongue. A second later, my mouth betrayed me once again. ‘Don’t peck your beak at me, you chattering hen. What Troubadour worth the name can’t recognise the lyrical structure of a congretto?’

Rhyleis eased her grip as indignation gave way to confusion. ‘A congretto? Corbier is telling you the verseisn’tfrom a dolacrimo?’

‘I’ve no idea what Corbier is saying,’ I groaned. ‘This isn’t the same as when I’m on stage with the other actors and the sets and the audience. When that happens, I slip into his world– I can see and hear everyone else, and feel whatever he’s feeling. It’s as if I’m experiencing his traumas alongside him.’

‘And when you’renoton stage?’ Rhyleis asked.

I resumed my slow walk down the narrow alley, recalling my misadventures barely a dozen blocks from here. ‘When the Vixen ambushed me last night, I started saying the kinds of thingsCorbier would’ve said to her. My hands were positivelyitchingfor the hilt of a rapier. It was like my entire body had become convinced–utterly convinced– that I could take her in a fight.’

Beretto was looking worried. ‘Brother, you know how I always say you’re a better fencer than you think? Well, you are, truly, but against the Vixen. . .’

‘I know.I know. Fortunately, most of the time– I suppose when I’m not panicked or terrified– Corbier’s presence is nothing more than a few stray memories, and the odd sarcastic comment when something irritates him.’

‘Well, apparently he’s not fond of congrettos– whatever those are supposed to be.’

‘Rebellion songs,’ Rhyleis explained. ‘Congrettos are a blend of simple lyrics and catchy melodies meant to arouse the passions in common folk and rally them against their Lords during times of oppression.’

‘Catchy?’ Beretto laughed. ‘Lovely as it was, that tune of yours is positively labyrinthine! Not to mention that we “common folk” rarely go in for such florid phrases as’– he placed one hand on his cocked hip and raised the other to the night sky, mimicking the comical poses of courtly poets– ‘“thy pertine is comely, o’er the garden it looms”.’

‘That’s why we assumed it was a lament,’ Rhyleis said, frown lines marring her forehead. ‘Listen to the transition from consonance to dissonance halfway through the phrase. . .’ She whistled the tune again, and even I could tell there were too many notes and the movements between them too subtle for the average crofter or labourer to remember after just one hearing.

The Bardatti’s lips pursed into a vexed line. ‘The melody’s definitely too ornate for a traditional congretto. Something like that could never spread from village to village on its own.’

Which would seem to defeat the purpose of a peasant rebellion song in the first place,I thought, but before I could raise theissue, a chorus of triumphant voices rang out from the entrance to the alley behind us.

‘There they are! Let’s give Archduke Corbier his crown!’

On any other night those words would have set my limbs to trembling. Instead, I watched helplessly as my right hand shot across my body, reaching to grip the hilt of a sword that wasn’t there. Despite the lack of a weapon, I found myself spinning on my heel to face my enemies, a mocking challenge coming to my lips.

Whatever cutting insult Corbier was about to deliver was cut off when tree-trunk arms grabbed me around the middle and hauled me backwards down the alley towards a narrow path between two buildings.

‘Get your paws off me, you lumbering bear!’ I heard myself growl. Once we were out of view, I wrenched myself free. ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

Beretto tilted his head. ‘Saving your idiot life, it appears. Did you not hear them talking about “crowning” you?’

I turned back towards the alley, more eager than ever to face the curs who dared hunt the Red-Eyed Raven. ‘Then stand and fight with me, you overgrown ninny! There can’t be more than six of them—’

Beretto unceremoniously shoved me further along the alley. ‘You appear to have forgotten something, brother.’

‘Which is?’

‘You’re rubbish at fighting.’

Oh shit, I thought, as Corbier’s momentary influence faded away and I stumbled into the darkness after the others.I really am, aren’t I?

Chapter 37

The City Above and Below

Beretto led us out of the alley and down a set of stairs into a pitch-black nest of winding stone passages beneath a building that stank like an abandoned tannery. The three of us linked hands to keep together– and to stop me running back into the alley like a suicidal idiot.

‘What’s wrong with him?’ Beretto asked Rhyleis. ‘Why is Corbier’s influence over him growing?’

For the first time since I’d met the mischievous, flamboyant Bardatti, her voice betrayed genuine concern. ‘I don’t know. The ways of Veristors are unknown, even to other Bardatti. I suspect some part of himwantsto be more like Corbier.’

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