“Yes, well,” Gerrig grumbled, his voice rough and raspy, “IH never surpass you at it. I make too big a target. Danyilyn I Sherina!”
“I told you, Gerrig, it’s cooking,” Danyilyn yelled back, annoyed.
“Set up another bowl then, wench. Pelmen’s back again.”
The troupe was smaller than he remembered. Even so, several of the faces were new. Half of the players Pelmen had acted beside for years were now gone. He glanced around him, taking roll, as Sherina set a bowl of steaming vegetable soup before him.
There’s even a little meat stock in it.” The square-jawed Sherina smiled ruefully. “Coralai managed to snatch a bone away from a dog.”
Pelmen smiled wanly, and looked over at Coralai, the little girl who’d been such an efficient collector of vegetable missies. “She’s grown,”
he said quietly, experiencing that inescapable jolt of mortality he always felt when babies suddenly grew up. The other familiar faces gathered around him seemed unchanged by the year-long intermission. But children are the yardsticks of passing time, and Pelmen recognized it had been a while.
“Eat it, before it cools,” Gerrig ordered as he shoveled a spoonful into his mouth. “It may be all you get for a while if you plan on staying.”
Pelmen took a mouthful as Sherina watched him expectatly. She’d never possessed the natural acting talent of some of the others in the troupe, but she could cook. One
Wnile from Pelmen, and she was satisfied to go on happily fabout her business.
,|; “The soup scenario is a summer ploy,” Pelmen said to Ji;"Gerrig as he cooled another spoon of the broth. “It’s past j&pie yule season why aren’t you wintering somewhere?”
“Did you, by chance, seek us on the coast?” Gerrig asked without looking up from his bowl.
“I did.”
“We weren’t there.”
“So I discovered.”
Gerrig still didn’t look up. Pelmen understood. The man was embarrassed. “We’ve had a terrible year, Pelmen. The worst I can remember. We’ve been out of favor in the court ever since your brilliant final performance with us, when you called Ligne a traitor.”
Gerrig didn’t hide his sarcasm. The troupe’s last performance at court had been disastrous for all.
“She was a traitor,” chirped Danyilyn, as she walked across the stage to the two men and droppped down to sit on its edge. “She still is.
Hello.” The last word she delivered into Pelmen’s eyes in a husky whisper.
“Hello, Danyilyn. You’re looking well, as always.”
“Well enough to attract your attention, traveler?” She hummed.
“Danyilyn, you were always capable of that” Pelmen craned his neck to scan the line of wagons in both directions. “But where is everyone else? A year ago we were the best organized, largest troupe in Chaomonous. What happened?”
“One of us decided to meddle in politics, that’s what happened,” Gerrig growled, finally looking at Pelmen.
“We took a vote, Gerrig remember?” Danyilyn said. “As I recall, we all agreed that we couldn’t stand idly by while Ligne plotted to overthrow her lover. We agreed to make our opinions known.”
“And a lot of good it did us,” Gerrig snorted, draining the last of his soup and passing the bowl to Sherina for a refill. “Ligne is on the throne anyway, and we’re reduced to begging peasants to pelt us with tomatoes so we can keep from starving.”
“Then all of this is the result of our criticism of Ligne and King Talith?” Pelmen asked sadly.
“Not completely, no.” Danyilyn sighed. “Though of course that did cost us our appointment to the court. But the confusion of Ligne’s coup in the capital, the war on Lamath, the dragon burning the year’s events have thrown the whole countryside into confusion. The dragon burned most of this year’s harvest, so there’s no food, and it was bound to be a bad year anyway, since so many farmers were dragged off to the war. We’re not the only troupe that’s suffered.”
Though perhaps we’re better complainers than most,” broke in someone at Pelmen’s back, and he turned around to greet Yona Parmi with a smile.
“Well, I’m happy to see you’re still around,” Pelmen said, and Yona snorted.
“Would I abandon my family? If I were to leave, who would Gerrig chew on?” Then he returned Pelmen’s grin. Yona Parmi did not smile with his lips. They stayed fixed and frozen in a thin line. But when his cheekbones rose, and the skin of his fleshy face tightened across them, one could tell he was amused. Yona Parmi was a watcher of people, and what he saw in Chaomonous gave him little cause to smile. When he did, it was a joyous experience for his friends, compelling them to join in.
In a moment the smile vanished, and Yona Parmi’s cheekbones said he was serious again. “We all have tales of this past year’s troubles to tell you, but I, for one, am far more interested in why you’ve returned.”
His tone was not scolding. Yona Parmi knew Pelmen as well as any man did and he knew Pelmen did nothing without purpose.
Pelmen glanced around him at this circle of old friends. There was some hostility there, and some bitterness, for it had been a difficult year, and Pelmen realized he bore much of the blame for their harsh conditions. “I’m here to apologize,” he said quietly, “and to get you all back onto the main stage of Chaomonous.”
A stunned silence greeted his announcemtnt. Gerrig recovered first.
“And how are you going to do that?” he sneered. “I suppose you’ve brought us a gilt-edged invitation, won by your long-standing friendship with the Queen?”
“I’ve won nothing as yet, Gerrig,” Pelmen responded evenly, “but I intend to. I’ve brought you all copies of a new play.”
“Another explosive piece of political wizardry, I’ll wager,” Gerrig snorted bitterly.
Pelmen allowed himself a trace of a smile. “There may be a bit of wizardry in it.” Only Yona Parmi understood the twinkle in Pelmen’s eye.
“No!” Gerrig bellowed, slamming his hand on the wagon-bed. “You’re not content with dooming us to exile, now you want to make sure we all roast over Ligne’s fires!”
Pelmen ignored his huge friend’s accusations. “Why not read it before you decide?”
“Sounds sensible to me,” Danyilyn put in quickly.
“And to me,” Yona Parmi echoed.
“Me, too,” said a childish voice at Pelmen’s feet, and he looked down into Coralai’s unflinching brown eyes. He knelt down to look her squarely in the face.
“If I’d realized how big you’d be, I would have written a part for you.” He grinned.
“So. Write me in.” She shrugged, her expression solemn.,
“I’ll do it That is, if Gerrig decides to give it a chance.”
“Oh, Gerrig’ll read it,” Coralai advised. “You’ve just got to give him some time to blow off steam.”
Pelmen glanced up at Gerrig’s hairy face, not bothering to hide his smile. Obviously, Coralai knew Gerrig well.
Like all of Pelmen’s plays, it was a work filled with bright color and strange images. The writer was in love with the sound of language, and some speeches thundered with a power that evoked deep emotional response. Most, however, brought the lighthearted tinkle of laughter, for the play was a comedy. It was a barbed comedy, however, poking merciless fun at an idiotic King too blind to see the machinations of his own advisors. With each line read, the target of the play grew clearer the foolish King was obviously Talith. It was evident to every member of the troupe that the script would play quite well yet the read-through grew steadily more uncomfortable with each new scene. By the final line only one actor was thoroughly enraptured with the piece and that was Gerrig. Pelmen had quite deliberately made the King’s mistress the heroine.
The reaction was not unexpected. Pelmen glanced up from his own manuscript and gazed around the circle of seated actors. “Well?” he asked. “What do you think?”