“He’s going to introduce us to Duke Reltheus, who happens to be a gambling man.”
“Excellent! That should make things easier!” Seregil turned over and propped himself against the bolsters. “Did you enjoy your party?”
“Of course I did, tali.” Alec moved around to rest his head on Seregil’s lean thigh. “I got Elsbet to dance, and I beat all the bakshi players in the dining room while you were cornered by those poets. What did you learn from that pack of leeches this time?”
“Leeches in packs!” Seregil chuckled at the image. “Let’s see. Lady Lania is cuckolding her husband with two different lovers and no one knows whose child she’s carrying. Duke Northus’s wife ran away because he beat her once too often. Korathan’s beautiful young Lord Byris gorges on sweets behind closed doors, and keeps his figure by tickling the back of his throat with a goose feather to bring them all up again. Lady Mora is sleeping with Lady Stania. The usual foolishness.”
“I overheard something more interesting than that.” Alec told him of the conversation between Malthus and Nerian. “I thought they were friends, but they sounded angry.”
“The heat and the shortages are rubbing tempers raw. When Phoria comes back, things will calm down.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard someone grumbling against the ’faie.” Alec tugged gently on a lock of Seregil’s long hair. “You call attention to yourself, you know.”
“We’re ’faie, Alec,” Seregil said, eyes fluttering shut. He wound his fingers in Alec’s thick hair. “At least I am, as far as anyone knows, and obviously you’re in my thrall. No one cares-” He yawned again. “-how long our hair is. And Phoria isn’t happy with us anyway, after we cocked up that last job.”
“Maybe not, but it’s things like that that are dividing the nobles,” Alec mused. “How can Phoria go out of her way to insult an ally like Aurenen when they’re her greatest source of help now that Mycena is ravaged? And this talk of the queen not considering the truce? Do you think that may have something to do with whatever it is Reltheus and Kyrin are up to?”
“Too soon to tell.”
Alec grinned as he ran a finger down Seregil’s cheek, admiring the smooth, beardless skin. “That actor was certainly doing his best to charm you.”
“Me and everyone else.” Seregil caught Alec’s hand and looked down at him. “Did it bother you?”
“No, tali. He’s just vain and wants your money.”
“Our money. And you’re right about that. Seems we’re about to own a partial interest in a theater.”
CHAPTER 9. Patrons of the Art
THE next day Seregil went to speak with Thero about what they’d learned at the party, and Kari went out with Elsbet and Illia to buy fabric. Alec remained behind with Micum and the boys to practice shooting in the garden. The new Radly already felt familiar in his hands, but too much city living threatened to dull his skills. Gherin and Luthas had toy bows, and Micum and Alec were teaching them how to use them, amid much laughter.
Runcer leaned out the dining room door. “My lord, Master Atre is here.”
“Send him out,” said Alec.
The actor greeted Alec and Micum warmly and produced pennies out of the air for the boys, earning delighted laughter and a hug from each of them.
“You certainly have fine children, Lord Micum,” he said when the boys had run off to play again. “And please, don’t stop what you’re doing on my account! I heard a great deal about Lord Alec’s skills as an archer last night.”
“All true,” Micum assured him. “I’ve never seen the like.”
“I’d love to see for myself, if it’s not impertinent of me to ask.”
The man’s manner was less fawning and flowery today, Alec noted, wondering if it was the lack of wine or the present audience. Taking up his bow again, Alec sent four shafts in quick succession into the center of the bull’s-eye target at the far end of the garden, then framed them with a star pattern of five more.
Atre clapped appreciatively. “The praise I heard was no exaggeration, my lord. You must be a formidable huntsman. Or were you a soldier?”
“Hunter.” Alec set the bow and shatta-decked quiver aside on a stone table. “Can I offer you something to drink? We’re sticking to cider today, but there’s wine if you’d prefer.”
Atre patted his flat belly. “Cider, please! I’m still a bit delicate.”
Runcer brought another cup and they sat down in a shady corner, enjoying the scents of the summer flowers and herbs around them. The conversation turned naturally to the theater, and Atre enthusiastically described his latest play and the theater in Gannet Lane where he hoped to move his company as soon as their fortunes increased. He was clearly angling for money, but his obvious love of his craft was contagious and Alec found himself asking questions about acting and theaters. Micum asked a few questions himself.
“Lord Seregil said that he’d like to see the Gannet Lane theater,” Atre said, steering the conversation back to that. “You must come with him, my lords.”
“I’m heading home early tomorrow,” Micum told him. “I have hay and oats to cut.”
“Well, I’d like to see the place,” said Alec.
“So would I.” Seregil stood in the dining room doorway in his shirtsleeves. “Though I suspect it’s going to be an expensive visit.”
Atre laughed. “I fear you may be right, my lord, if fate chooses to smile on me in my venture. Tomorrow, perhaps?”
“Very well.”
“Thank you, my lords! May your Lightbringer smile on you in all things. And you must see the new play. The money you gave us on the occasion of our first meeting has been most helpful. You will see a great improvement in our costuming.”
“I was very impressed with how you made do, especially the cosmetics. Charcoal and chalk, wasn’t it?” Seregil asked.
Atre looked pleasantly surprised at that. “Why, yes, and some candle tallow.”
“What was it you used in place of carmine?”
“A distillation of some red flowers we found growing in the ditches outside the city. You’re most observant, my lord. Few of our patrons pay any attention to such details.”
“Well, as you guessed, I have a few amateur theatricals in my past.”
Alec tried not to smile as he exchanged a quick, knowing look with Micum. They’d both seen him play roles ranging from crippled beggars and old men to the lovely, if somewhat disconcerting, Lady Gwethelyn.
“I’d like to discuss this theater of yours further, Master Atre,” said Seregil. “Will you stay for dinner?”
“I’m most honored, my lord, but sadly, I must decline, as we have a performance tonight and I must be there to manage things, as well as play the central role.”
“Ah, of course. Another time, then. I won’t keep you.”
Atre bowed and took his leave.
Seregil sat down and poured himself a cup of cider. “Charming, isn’t he?”
“And persistent,” Micum said with a chuckle. “He didn’t waste any time coming back.”
“Hardly surprising. According to him, they’re having to turn people away at the door at their current location. I’d say he’s going to be a very rich man before long.”
“And you like him,” Alec observed. “So do I. I bet he’d make a good nightrunner.”
“No doubt he would. Actors often make good spies. We’ll have to keep an eye on that one.”
Atre met them in Gannet Lane at the appointed time. Lady Kylith was there as well, fanning herself in her open carriage.
“I’m so glad you two have decided to invest,” she said as Alec helped her down.
“I didn’t know it was a foregone conclusion,” Seregil replied.
She laughed and rapped him with her fan.
“I wouldn’t presume!” Atre exclaimed.
“You might as well.” Seregil sighed dramatically. “My
lady here seems to have made up her mind on the matter. Come on, then. Let’s have a look.”
This theater was a far cry from the one in Basket Street. The huge polished wood doors were carved with the Eye of Illior, patron Immortal of creativity and actors, as well as wizards, nightrunners, and the mad. Inside there were banks of proper benches and a dozen fine boxes large enough for couches and wine tables. The stage was twice the size of the one at Basket Street, and flanked by tall wooden columns carved in the shapes of trees whose branches, laden with gilt leaves and fruit, spread across the theater ceiling. Atre led them around it, pointing out the finer details of the stage area, then took them back through the warren of little dressing and storage rooms behind it.