"I don't think so," said Barrow. It felt good to voice his misgivings. He never dared question Rusk about his plans. "Maybe he wants to win him over."
"Last time he tried that, he came back short-handed."
"Keep your voice down. You've got to stop saying that."
"What about the Malveens? I thought they were done with Rusk."
"Only Radu," said Darrow. "He doesn't like anything that might threaten the family business. It's Stannis who wants to hurt the Uskevren."
"They sound unreliable," said Sorcia. "What do we need from them?"
"I think Rusk plans for us to take shelter there," said Darrow. "And Stannis knows more about the Uskevren. He has a spy among them. At least, he had one. Radu probably killed her last year. He doesn't like loose ends. He prefers to cut them off."
"Aren't you one of those?" said Sorcia. "A loose end?"
Darrow didn't answer, but fear made a knot in his throat until he swallowed.
Sorcia looked at him and smiled.
Chapter 14
Alturiak, 1372 DR
Despite the enchantments that kept snow and cold outside the Wide Realms in winter, the players usually spent the season rehearsing the spring productions and performing for private audiences. Since the strange attack on the playhouse the previous autumn, audiences were practically beating on the gates for more. Ever the businesswoman, Quickly wasted no time obliging them.
The house was packed on the opening night of The Cormyrian Cousins. The play was another of Quickly's broad comedies, full of mistaken identity, physical humor, and cross-dressing. While he was glad to help research Cormyrian history and customs from two centuries ago, Tal was disappointed to see that most of his hard work was demonstrated in the costumes, not the dialogue. It was hard to complain, however, since Quickly gave him the role he wanted-as well as all the fencing.
Tal was proud of the fight scenes, which he had been developing since Ches with Mallion and Sivana-who played both twin sisters except during the revelation, when hulking Ennis would wear the swordswoman's gown for the wedding dance.
Only one of the fights took place on the stage, while the others ranged from the balconies to the gallery railings. Most took place right on the ground, among the audience. Quickly had concerns about safety and ordered Presbart to monitor the gate carefully, admitting only a hundred groundlings to leave room for the fencers. It was all very well to capitalize on Marance Tallendar's attack last winter, but she didn't want to make a habit of maiming the audience.
The galleries were packed, heightening the nervousness all the players felt when unveiling a new production. Quickly puffed on her pipe and stalked the backstage area. Tal wished she would find some detail to correct-someone in the wrong costume or missing a wig. After fixing a problem, she might stop worrying that she'd forgotten something.
When she called time, Tal donned a heavy cloak and circled around the outside of the building to take his mark near the front entrance. There he winked at Presbart and handed over the cloak as he stepped inside. Together, they peered over the edge of the gallery rail to see who had come.
Among the usual crowd of artisans and laborers were many young merchant nobles, conspicuous in their fine doublets and gowns. There was a brief scuffle in the lower gallery as a man refused to doff his tall, feathered hat while a round-shouldered bricklayer kept swatting it off his head from behind. At last the peacock chose another seat, and all was well.
"Psst!"
Tal turned at the sound, smiling as he spotted Chaney leaning on the rails of the lower gallery. He had an arm around a buxom brunette who craned her neck to see someone on the other side of the yard. Tal thought he recognized the woman as a barmaid from the Green Gauntlet, but it had been so long since he'd been there that he couldn't be sure.
Lommy leaned out of the tiny window in the peaked roof directly above the stage. With an explosive puff of his green cheeks, he blew a brassy fanfare on a curled gloon. Once the crowd's chatter had subsided, the tasloi crossed his arms and leaned upon the window's edge. Whenever he spied someone pointing or staring at him, he made a grotesque face or thumbed his nose.
Ennis strode onto the stage in the stately gown of a royal herald. He set the scene in a windy series of obvious anachronisms and malapropisms, which the audience corrected by shouting back at him. Before the pompous character could bore the audience, Lommy descended from the heavens dressed as the world's ugliest messenger of Sune, goddess of love and beauty. Rather than bless the herald's exposition as the blustery man prayed, the messenger chased him off the stage with a heart-tipped wand.
That was Tal's cue. The audience parted before him as he strode through the yard. Simultaneously, Mallion emerged from backstage. Dressed in a lord's nightgown, he also wore a scabbard at his hip.
"What bird is this that wakes me from my sleep?" he blinked up at the heavens, too late to see Lommy vanish into the trapdoor.
"The herald of my retribution calls," cried Tal from the center of the yard. "Stand forth and face your rightful punishment!"
Mallion fumbled for his sword, feigning sleepy confusion so well that the audience already began to chuckle. "Come no closer, knave, or I shall call the dogs."
"The dog stands before me, or else-" Tal choked as someone jerked his cape.
For an instant, he imagined he was back in the Arch Wood, fleeing from Rusk and his pack when he had felt a similar tug at his throat. He whirled around to face the offender, but he saw no likely suspect.
"Mind the hedges," said Mallion, descending the stairs to the sound of laughter.
Such a smooth cover for Tal's mishap was one of the many reasons Mallion continued to garner the best parts. Tal was too grateful to hold it against him.
"I'll trim them when I've finished shaving you," said Tal with a cut at Mallion's head.
Mallion parried neatly. "Not once I've cut you down to human size."
"That won't hide his bastard's blood!" cried a voice from the crowd. The audience tittered nervously. Feeble as it was, Tal sensed that the insult was directed at him, not his character.
"Don't blame the boy," called another voice in the yard. "It's the mother's fault!"
Lightning flashed in his brain, and Tal turned his head toward the speaker. Expecting Tal's parry, Mallion checked his cut too late, and the point of his sword cut Tal's cheek. Tal barely felt the cut as his eyes sought his rude accuser. Before he could spot a likely source, another voice called from the second gallery.
"She must have fancied Perivel's ogre."
Tal looked up to see a big bearded man pointing at him as he laughed. More shocking still was the sight of an elf sitting on the rail beside the mocking man. Her cloak was two sizes too big for her slender form, and her pale skin stood out even among the powdered faces of the gallery. If more of the audience spotted her, she would regret it. Most Sembians loathed elves, and the rest were sure to avoid their company for fear of sharing the stigma of the hated outsiders.
The laughter was even more uncomfortable this time, except for a dozen loud voices throughout the yard. Tal had not heard such dirty gossip since his early teens, when his unusual size made him the object of childish jibes about his real parentage.
Someone in the yard shouted, "That's enough! We came to hear a play, not-" The voice cut off suddenly as someone pulled the man down. Tal could barely see the scuffle, but it looked as though two men had pushed the speaker to the floor.
'That's not why he was kicked out of the house, though," called a big red-bearded man with a broken nose. He stood where Tal had seen the scuffle a moment earlier, one meaty hand on his hip. His tone was insolent, inviting a quarrel. "His father won't share his concubine!"