"I thought you would like it," she said, smiling. "Japheth’s father was an adept of Eglantine House, ere he wed; 'tis the first play written outside the Night Court to tell Naamah’s story thusly. Would you like to meet him?"
I went with her to the players' quarters, behind the stage. In contrast to the well-orchestrated performance, it was chaos in their dressing rooms. The masks were treated with care-players are superstitious about such things-but garments and props were thrown hither and thither, and the sounds of players squabbling mingled with a triumphant rehashing of the night’s performance.
I knew the playwright straightaway, for he was the only one in sober garb. Spotting Thelesis, he came toward her with arms outstretched and eyes aglow. "My dear!" he exclaimed, giving her the kiss of greeting. "What did you think?"
"It was wonderful." She smiled at him. "Japheth nó Eglantine-Vardennes, this is Phèdre nó Delaunay, who very much enjoyed your play."
"It is my pleasure." Japheth kissed my hand like a courtier. He was young and handsome, with curly chestnut hair and brown eyes. "Will you join us for a drink at the Mask and Lute?" he asked, shifting his attention eagerly back to Thelesis. "We were going to celebrate the triumph of our debut."
Before she could answer, there was a stir at the door. One of the players gasped, and a hush fell over their quarters as a tall man in courtier’s finery entered. I knew him by his long, clever face and his habit of waving a perfumed kerchief under his nose: Lord Thierry Roualt, the King’s Minister of Culture. Japheth composed his features and bowed.
"My lord Roualt," he said carefully. "You honor us."
"Yes, of course." The Minister of Culture waved his kerchief, sounding bored. "Your play was not displeasing. You will perform it for His Majesty’s pleasure five days hence. My undersecretary will see to your needs." Another flourish of the kerchief. "Good eve."
They held their breath until he had departed, then burst into cheers and hugs. Japheth grinned at Thelesis. "Now you must join us!"
The Mask and Lute is a players' house, and only Guild-members and their guests are allowed. As the King’s Poet, of course, Thelesis de Mornay would have been welcome at any time, but I would not have been admitted alone, and so was happy at the chance. I sat and sipped my wine, marveling at how the players carried on like children with their quarrels and dramas, when they held such power onstage. It reminded me of the bitter rivalries that went on behind the scenes among the adepts of Cereus House.
Thus I paid little heed while Japheth and Thelesis spoke of poesy, but when their talk turned to politics, it caught my Delaunay-trained ear. "I heard a rumor," he said, lowering his voice. "One of my troupe had it from the steward of the Privy Chamber, who is enamored of her. It is said that the Duc d’Aiglemort met in secret with the King, to bid for the Dauphine’s hand. Is it true?"
Thelesis shook her head. "I had not heard it. But I have no contacts in the Privy Chamber," she added with a smile.
"Well, indeed." Japheth made a face. "Who would, were it not for the merits such gossip may afford? But I bade her keep it silent, for the nonce. I’ve no wish to jeopardize our chances of playing before the King."
"And you shall, splendidly."
I held my tongue for all of three seconds, but could not resist. "What was the King’s answer?" I asked as innocently as I could.
"He declined, and would give no reason." Japheth shrugged. "As he has to every suitor. That is what I heard. Mayhap d’Aiglemort thought he was owed a boon, for bringing House Trevalion to justice. And mayhap he is, but not this one," With that, he turned the talk to other matters.
Though I was neither poet nor player and could not follow all their talk, I am well enough read that I enjoyed it and the whole of the evening most heartily. When Thelesis' coach took me back to Delaunay’s house, I thanked her again. She gave me her warm smile and took my hands.
"It gladdened me to cheer your spirits, Phèdre," she said kindly. "I have known Anafiel Delaunay a long time. If you have care in your heart for him, do not judge him too harshly for it. He has lost a great deal in his life, and not the least of it is his verses. Were it not for…well, for several things, he, and not I, might be the King’s Poet. Alcuin is good for him, though Delaunay himself may not know it. Allow him this small happiness."
"I will try, my lady," I promised, abashed by her goodness. She smiled again, and bid me good night.
If it had not been for what happened later, I might have taken no notice of the playwright’s bit of news. Of a surety, I told Delaunay, who heard it without surprise; he was only surprised, I thought, that it had taken Isidore d’Aiglemort this long to ask. What he thought of the King’s response, I do not know, save that it was no more than he expected. And with that, I would have put it out of my mind, save that a day later, an invitation arrived for Delaunay, bidding him to attend the royal staging of Japheth nó Eglantine-Vardennes' Passion of Naamah.
Being Delaunay, he made little of it; it was hardly the first time he had been invited to court. But I saw the invitation, and it bore the seal of House Courcel.
As matters fell out, I was contracted the very day of the performance to fulfill my promise to Lord Rogier Clavel, who had returned from Khebbel-im-Akkad with the Duc L’Envers. I half looked forward to it, for it would be easy work, and I had hopes that his second patron-gift would equal his first. He had offered to send his own coach, an offer Delaunay had declined, but he sent word to accept Clavel’s conveyance after the invitation arrived. He gave me no reason for it, but I knew he had need of his team. It would not do to arrive sweated and on horseback for a royal audience.
Joscelin, of course, would accompany me. We had spoken little since my assignation with Childric d’Essoms, though I knew he was no happier with his posting than before. Well, I thought, he should be glad enough of Rogier Clavel, then, whose desires were so simply met.
So it was that Joscelin cooled his heels in Lord Clavel’s quarters-rather finer than the ones he’d had before, I noted-while we disported ourselves. I daresay Lord Clavel was well enough pleased, and if a good portion of my mind was elsewhere, he never noticed it. For my part, I could not help but think of Japheth’s play being staged in the Palace theatre, and Delaunay’s mysterious invitation to attend it. Rogier Clavel favored afternoon assignations, and I knew full well when the hour arrived for the performance to commence. 'Twas early evening by then, and we had finished with our sport; I fanned him while he lay on soft cushions, the sheen of exertion drying on his skin. By the time he donned his robe and went to his coffer, I had an idea.
"Thank you, my lord," I murmured, tying the generous purse to my girdle.
"You’ve kept your word, and more." He looked eagerly at me. "So’ve I, Phèdre. The King has awarded me an estate in L’Agnace. Do you think your lord Delaunay might allow me to see you again?"
"Perhaps." I eyed him thoughtfully. "My lord Clavel, tell me this; is there another exit from your quarters?"
"There is the servants' route to the kitchens, of course." He blinked at me. "Why do you ask?"
I had thought about it, and had an answer ready. "There is…someone…I must see, who made an offer to Delaunay," I said, putting a hesitation in my voice that suggested it was a patron I dared not name. "He would take it amiss, to have a Cassiline Brother on his doorstep, but they are rigorous in their service. Still, Delaunay bid me deliver word, if I chanced to do it without the Cassiline present."