Nearby, Rusk snarled but seemed otherwise unaffected. Beside him stood the white wolf, her vicious teeth bared.
"Go back to the woods, before you lose one of your pups."
She raised her arms toward the moon and called again on Selune's power. Rusk hesitated, then turned to leave. He walked at first then moved more quickly as he willed his own transformation into wolf form. Soon they entered the dark forest, where neither Maleva nor her spells followed them.
Chapter 12
Marpenoth, 1371 DR
In the months since his expulsion from Master Ferrick's, Tal began his own sword practice. There was no room in the tallhouse, so he used the backstage area at the Wide Realms.
At first he came in the mornings, when the building was deserted except for Lommy and the reclusive Otter. Within a tenday, Mistress Quickly complained that Lommy was missing his cues for opening the trapdoors or lowering the sun and moon from the heavens. One look at the bleary-eyed tasloi made Tal realize his mistake. The arboreal creatures were nocturnal by nature, and Tal had been disturbing their sleep.
He changed his schedule, returning to the playhouse a few hours after a performance. He practiced by himself while Lommy and Otter scampered about the mechanical works in the rafters. He didn't know what the tasloi were doing up there-maybe just chasing each other in play, or perhaps building new gods and comets to drop and swing from the ropes-but he liked the sound of them nearby. He liked to think they were glad of his presence, too.
Often he would stay until dawn, having exhausted himself with drilling, then hours of working out new fight scenes for plays that had yet to be written. Soon he found himself most alert at night, sleeping away the mornings before rising to a quick breakfast and a return to the Realms for rehearsals.
On full moons, Tal's routine was always the same. He ate a big dinner then had Chancy lock him in the cellar. During the transformation, Tal did his best to remain calm, meditating as Master Ferrick had taught him until the tidal dreams swept him out to oblivion. An hour after dawn, Chancy and Eckert would let him out. He stayed in the tallhouse for all three days, bidding Eckert to tell callers he was out carousing with Chancy in an alehouse somewhere.
In truth, Tal no longer frequented alehouses. He'd drink a cup of wine or a tankard of ale with Chancy in the tall-house, but he wouldn't drink more, and he wouldn't go anywhere where he might get into a quarrel. He didn't want to hurt anyone else.
Word of the accident at Master Ferrick's eventually reached the players. Mallion and Sivana were uncharacteristically sympathetic. Instead of the expected jokes, Tal received a surprising request one day in the cold month of Uktar.
The three actors stood among the vendors outside the playhouse. Most of them sold food and drink to the audience as they arrived. The smells of roast meat and baked dumplings mingled with the sweet autumn air. Brown leaves scratched along the cobblestones.
The three actors clutched cups of hot cider to warm their hands. The autumn air was still comfortable, but the playhouse doors were already open.
"Let's go back inside," suggested Tal.
"Actually," said Sivana, "we wanted a word with you alone."
That sounded ominous. Tal braced himself for some admonishment about recent rehearsals. Quickly had cast him as the mad king, a role most of the players-including Tal-thought should go to one of the more experienced actors. Quickly said the role demanded a voice by turns thunderous, and frail, and that Tal had proven he had the range. That was true enough, thought Tal, who had been expanding his repertoire of mimicry mostly through his mocking representations of the Hulorn and members of the Old Chauncel. On the other hand, Tal was far too young to express the emotional depth of a man driven mad by his children's betrayal.
At least, that was Tal's fear.
"We heard you weren't going to Master Ferrick's these days," said Mallion.
The sly, handsome actor was the one who usually got the roles Tal wanted. He rarely passed up an opportunity to point out Tal's shortcomings, usually in front of the other players. He did it in a tone of genial humor, but there was no doubt in Tal's mind that he also did it to make sure everyone realized that Mallion was the better actor.
Tal nodded, then sipped his cider. It was spicy and almost too hot to drink.
"You probably want to stay in practice, though," added Sivana. This month, her hair was blue and short. In The Wizard's Exile she played both sprite and ship captain, the latter with a false beard and a silk scarf on her head.
"So we were thinking," said Mallion, "maybe you could teach us what you know."
"Me?" said Tal, coughing on his cider. "I'm no teacher."
"You're the one who stages all the fight scenes these days," said Sivana.
"That's not the same as real fighting," Tal said. "I mean, I hope it looks convincing, but it's not the same at all."
"Wouldn't it look better if we all knew how to fight for real?" said Mallion.
"Maybe," Tal allowed. Then his suspicions arose again. "And maybe it would give you an advantage when Quickly casts Waterdeep next season."
"Please," said Mallion. "Sivana and I are getting those parts anyway."
"Don't be so sure about that," said Tal. "The four duels are the most important scenes."
"And who would believe either of us could beat an ogre like you?" said Sivana. She and Mallion together barely weighed more than Tal. "They've got to be the same size."
"Maybe she'll pick Ennis and me," said Tal.
It was a feeble argument, since big Ennis was both portly and homely, hardly a good choice for one of the romantic rivals. He usually played the foolish counselor or the cuckolded husband.
"Fat chance," said Mallion.
"We really want to learn," said Sivana.
"Why not go to Ferrick's yourself? You're both good enough to get in."
While neither of them had had proper training, they'd learned enough in the playhouse that their greatest challenge would be to break the bad habits they'd formed.
"We'd rather learn from you," she said.
Tal looked from Sivana's face to Mallion's, expecting to see one of them crack a smile and reveal the joke before they'd had their fun with him.
"Really?"
"Really," said Mallion. Sivana nodded.
"I'll have to think about it," said Tal. He liked the idea of having fencing partners, but the fear that he'd hurt someone again still turned restlessly in his belly. "When would you want to do it?"
"Right before rehearsals," said Sivana, "to warm up."
"I'll think about it," said Tal.
He didn't have to think for long. Within a few days, Mallion and Sivana had already learned the basic footwork and followed Tal's lead for an hour of vigorous exercise. When Chaney learned about it, he insisted on coming along. His lazy efforts provided the perfect bad example for the actors, yet he could get it right when Tal corrected him. Best of all, he didn't mind the criticism.
As Tal expected, the hardest part was breaking them of habitual posing and fancy but ineffective flourishes. Deep down, Tal knew that those were some of his own failings as a swordsman, but it was easier to see it in others. He corrected, gently at first, then with an increasing scolding he knew came from long familiarity with Master Ferrick's sharp, imperious commands. When Mallion complained that he worked them too hard, Tal knew he was starting to do a good job.
"Why don't you practice with us?" Sivana asked one afternoon. Chaney had just given Mallion the thrashing of his life, even through the padded armor and masks Tal insisted they wear. Now both men complained they were too tired to go on.