Player's Ruse by Hilari Bell

Author:Hilari Bell [Bell, Hilari]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2011-01-05T12:39:29.071000+00:00

Chapter 8 Michael

“What was he charged with?” I asked.

The players who’d gone with Rudy hadn’t yet returned, but Mistress Makejoye, who’d followed her husband into town to present the guild’s testimonials of their honesty and good reputation, had come back just before we did. Her hands were clenched on the useless papers, and she looked older than she had this morning.

Edith Barker sat beside her, an arm around her shoulders. The bright sunlight and gaily painted wagons made a strange backdrop for so many grim faces. My tenderhearted Rose was near tears, but she sat silent, waiting for something she could do to help.

“For his plays.” It was Gloria who answered, her expression hard and anxious. “How they found them . . . I didn’t know where that cupboard was, but that bastard found it in minutes.”

“What plays?” The Makejoyes were players—of course they had plays. There was nothing illegal about it.

“The other plays, Michael,” said Fisk, looking almost as concerned as the rest of the troupe. “The ones they put on when there aren’t any lords in the audience. But you didn’t put any of those on here, did you?”

Gwen Makejoye shook her head. “It was some fellow who’d seen us in another town.” Her voice was hoarse. “Trundle, I think his name was. Prissy bastard. Said he found them ‘offensive.’ ”

“But if you didn’t perform them in Lord Fabian’s fief, surely the worst he can do is ask you to leave,” I said. “And that’s just what you want.”

“That probably depends on how offensive Fabian and his judicars find them,” said Fisk.

“But that’s unjust,” I protested.

“We’re players, Sir Michael,” said Callista. “Here today, over the fief’s borders next week. A stranger is always easier to mistrust than someone you know. Easier to punish, too, if it comes to that.”

I’d learned that lesson myself in the last two years.

“How bad are these plays?” Fisk asked.

“That’s the problem,” Callista replied. “They’re not bad, they’re good. They leave the audience weeping and holding their sides, they laugh so hard. How much tolerance do you think Lord Fabian and the judicars will have for being laughed at?”

There was a long pause. I couldn’t speak for the judicars, but remembering Lord Fabian’s fierce, prickly pride . . .

Mistress Makejoye turned her head into Edith’s shoulder and began to cry—the harsh, clumsy sobs of someone who doesn’t do it often.

“He’ll probably be flogged,” said Fisk. “He’ll survive it, at least, and be free to go. But when the Players’ Guild hears about this . . . How long will it take them to read these scripts?”

Callista and Gloria exchanged glances. “Hours,” said Callista. “Maybe a day. There are lots of them.”

“Tomorrow.” Gwen Makejoye scrubbed her face with her hands. “They were too busy today—Fabian is meeting with the captains of a convoy that just came in. Everything they take on here has to be searched for some cargo that was taken from the latest wreck. Some of ’em are making a fuss about it, so they set the scripts aside to read tomorrow.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.