Page 90 of Play of Shadows

‘Forgive me, your Grace,’ I began, ‘but how is that possible? We’ve seen the Iron Orchids– seen the things th—’

The duke held up a hand to stop me. He walked over to the crumpled congretto, picked it up and turned to the candle on the small table. Without a word, he lit the verse Rhyleis had composed, then returned to the window and tossed it out. It floated away into the night like a flaming butterfly.

‘The note is gone, yet the threat remains,’ he said.

At last I began to piece together the events that had dominated my life ever since I’d first flubbed the herald’s lines on stage. ‘You’ve exhausted your efforts to find the Court of Flowers,’ I said. ‘Neither your agents nor your allies,’– I could see Shariza’s troubled expression from the corner of my eye– ‘not even the Black Amaranth, can find them.’

‘Not at present, no,’ Monsegino agreed.

Oh, such a cleverly deceptive turn of phrase, your Grace.

‘What you mean is that you can’t find theminthe present,’ I said, feeling the heat rising in me, even without the Red-Eyed Raven’s influence. ‘You said you don’t play games a moment ago, but that was a lie, wasn’t it?’

‘What do you mean, brother?’ Beretto asked.

‘That damned play– the one that’s turned our lives upside down and got Roz killed! The duke doesn’t care about what happened to Corbier and Ajelaine, but he believes the Court of Flowers was formed intheirtime, a hundred years in the past, so he’s using me to flush them out!’

‘But how?’ Beretto pressed. ‘Even if the Court of Flowers did begin back then, how would that—?’

‘Because he’s bluffing!’ I shouted.

‘Of course,’ Rhyleis said, her eyes alight with comprehension. ‘Brilliant! Whoever rules the Court of Flowers today has no way of knowing the limits of the Veristor’s gift. They can’t be sure Damelas won’t uncover their origins in Corbier’s memories, so the closer he appears to get, the more likely they are to make a mistake and reveal themselves in the here and now.’

Monsegino’s sombre violet eyes were filled with equal parts shame and grim determination. ‘If Damelascanuncover their origins in the past, we can put an end to their machinations in the present. If not. . .’

‘If not, we must force them into overplaying their hand,’ Shariza said.

Perhaps you should learn from her example, Corbier whispered to me.How far will you go to protect those you love?The now familiar itch returned to my bandaged left hand, together with the urge to curl my fingers around the leather grip of a sword.Devotion is not the weeping of a broken heart. It is the long, hard edge of a rapier, wielded without hesitation, without mercy.

‘Brother?’ Beretto asked.

‘I’m fine,’ I said, but I could see the concern in their expressions, and I noticed that Shariza had moved to discreetly put herself between me and the duke.

‘It’s getting easier to see when the Red-Eyed Raven takes you,’ she said.

Despite that, Monsegino stepped closer. ‘Is Corbier truly so filled with hate for me, so thirsty for my blood?’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t think so. He’s changing, though. When I first started hearing his voice, he was only mildly interested in my affairs. When I encountered the Vixen and her rent-boy in the alley, he wanted to duel her on the spot, but not to kill her; he just wanted to demonstrate that he was better than her– that he could defeat anyone he had to—’

‘To show Ajelaine that he could keep her safe,’ Shariza finished for me. ‘I felt that in your performance last night– as if Corbier needed to prove to himself that the violence that ran so hot in his veins was a gift that could protect those he loved. But after she died, vengeance was all that was left to him.’

Beretto was nodding his head. He clapped a hand on my shoulder. ‘Yes– yes, it makes perfect sense! The Corbier inside you is whoever he was at the moment we stopped the performance.’

‘But if I’m truly a Veristor, why does it matter at what point we were in the play? Why can’t I just summon his memories right now and ask all the questions I want about his life– about what he did after Ajelaine’s death?’

It was Duke Monsegino who answered, and he did so with a kind of amused disbelief. ‘You know, Damelas, for an actor, you appear to be unconscionably oblivious to the magic of the theatre.’

‘That’s exactly whatI’vebeen telling him!’ Beretto said happily, reaching out his other arm to thump the duke boisterously on the shoulder.

‘The big idiot’s right,’ Rhyleis said, looking down at her worn leather boots. ‘I’ve travelled more of this country than any of you can imagine. I’ve journeyed across oceans to other lands. I’ve traded tales with witches and warlocks, mages and sorcerers. I’ve watched esoteric ceremonies and religious sacraments,witnessed outcomes both horrific and wondrous.’

‘So? What’s any of that got to do with the theatre?’ I asked.

‘Imagine a play in your mind,’ she replied. She walked over to me and put a hand over my eyes. ‘See it through the gaze of a stranger from a far-off land, one who’s never heard of the theatre, or even seen an actor.’

‘So they don’t have plays in these exotic foreign lands?’

‘Stop interrupting. Picture the players in their costumes, the props they wield, the candelabra illuminating the strange sets. Visualise the audience, sitting there in hushed silence.’

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