Page 98 of Play of Shadows

‘Damelas?’ Beretto asked, coming up on my right and pausing to bring his axe crashing down on an enemy’s helmeted head. ‘Is that you in there?’

‘Aye,’ I replied, although I’d never said ‘aye’ in my life unless it was a line in a script. ‘Well, mostly,’ I conceded, thrusting my sword at a looming face. The man jumped back and bashed himself on the stage door– but it held, which meant it was barred from the outside.

‘The faithless bastards really left their own brethren to burn with us?’ Beretto spat.

‘Bring those battering rams,’ I shouted.

‘You mean the wooden columns?’ some idiot asked.

‘No, I meant run out and find a supplier of siege-engines and see if he’ll give you a good deal on a used one.Of course I mean the fucking columns!’

Don’t let minuscule victories go to your head, Corbier warned. And never give speeches in the middle of a battle unless you’re about to die, and then only when there’s a Bardatti nearby to add it to your eulogy.

I smashed the pommel of my sword into the back of the head of a man trying to drive Abastrini to the ground, then reversed the motion and slashed Beretto’s opponent.

I’m doing just fine, in case you hadn’t noticed.

You’re becoming battle-drunk, Corbier warned.You aren’t feeling it right now, but the smoke is damaging your lungs. Every breath you take is another gift to the enemy.

You have a lot of axioms, has anyone ever told you that?I asked, but this time I kept my mouth closed.

There were just two Iron Orchids left guarding the door, and they looked like they’d quite happily have fled long ago, had there been anywhere to flee to. Evidently, no one had bothered to tell them they were to be martyrs to their cause, trapped inside the burning theatre along with their intended victims.

‘Out of the way,’ someone called out and I barely had time to flatten myself against the wall as one of the columns came charging at the stage door. The two Orchids weren’t so lucky: it caught them both and smashed them into the barred door. They slumped down to the ground, dead or dying– but the door held.

‘Again—’ Abastrini croaked and the grim-faced stagehands, all hacking and coughing, backed up a few feet and struck again. This time the door buckled on its hinges– but the columnshattered.

‘Make way,’ the second group said, backing up further this time. We were all conscious that this was our last chance. With a roar, they charged.

Please, I begged,whichever of you gods and saints care for the petty lives of mortals, let the courage of these brave souls be—

The battering ram exploded into a thousand pieces. Despair rose up in me– until I saw the door had shattered as well. Lethal slivers of wood had shot everywhere, embedding in the walls and piercing the flesh of those caught too close, but even they didn’t care, because at last freedom beckoned.

In the alley, sweet, blessed rain was falling from a merciful night sky.

‘Out, everyone, quick now,’ Beretto gasped, and actors and crew, bloody, weary, and all grinning like the condemned offered a last-minute reprieve, poured out into the wet alleyway.

Drop the broadsword, Corbier’s voice advised me.You’ll want that rapier now.

What—? Why?

Because this part of the fight is done.

I looked around for the rapier I’d discarded earlier and found it lying on the floor just within reach. As I followed the others outside, I saw more than two dozen Orchids, some in that same enamelled plate armour and others in the grimy clothes of labourers, waiting for us with swords and spears in hand. The fire was raging up to the very top of the Belleza, lighting up the night sky. Some of the alley’s usual denizens were trying to fight back, but like us, they were outnumbered and out-weaponed.

‘Let’s teach these blackguards the first rule of the sword,’ Beretto cried, running into the fray, ignoring the wounds he’d already suffered.

Corbier’s usually cold and calculating voice asked with interest,The first rule of the sword?

An old Greatcoats saying, I informed him as I raced after Beretto.‘Put the pointy end in the other guy first.’

For once the Red-Eyed Raven sounded amused.As duelling maxims go, I suppose that’s as sound as any old Errera Bottio ever wrote.

Chapter 48

The Fire in the Alley

I had barely a second to get my bearings before my path was barred by a slim, broad-shouldered figure whose features were entirely hidden behind a black silk mask with a painted grey orchid over the mouth.

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