Стивен Браст: Tiassa

“That’s the saying, yes.”

“I also liked your entrance.”

“My—?”

“When I entered, the stage was empty. I looked away, looked back, and there you were. Nice trick.”

“Oh. That was not my effect, it was yours.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Don’t you know? In any performance, the audience provides most of the magic for their own enchantment?”

“I’ve heard that, but I never took it quite so literally. It’s never been my area of study. How did I manage it?”

“How could I know?”

I didn’t have a good answer to that. “This place,” I said.

“Hmmm?”

“This is an odd place. Things happen that I can’t figure out.”

“And outside of this place, you understand everything so well?”

“Don’t be cryptic.”

She chuckled a little.

“I can’t even tell what House you are.”

“Does it matter?”

“Always.”

“You wonder if I’m real.”

“Yeah.”

“I wonder if you are.”

“I could tell at once we had a lot in common. Can you tell me anything useful about what’s going on in this place?”

She looked around for a moment, then faced the stage again.

“What do you mean?”

“The kitchen was empty, unused, but there was fresh bread.”

“What brought you here?”

“A friend asked me for help.”

“What kind of help?”

“I don’t know.”

She turned and looked at me. Her face was triangular, and she reminded me a little of Sara. Okay, Issola, then. After giving me a quick glance, she faced the stage again. I started wondering what was so fascinating there.

I said, “So, what can you tell me about this place?”

“Precipice Manor?”

“Yeah. Sorry, I can’t say that with a straight face. Which is odd, because I know someone who calls his home Castle Black.”

She spared me a quick look. “Apparently you can’t say that with a straight face, either.”

“True enough. So, what can you tell me?”

“I don’t know a great deal. I dance. That’s all.”

“You dance?”

“For Lord Zhayin. Every couple of months he has me dance.”

“Private performances?”

“Yes.”

“There’s something kind of sick about that.”

“Is there?”

“Well, you know, he keeps you here, makes you dance—”

“Lets me stay here, lets me dance. He’s my audience. He loves my dancing.”

“It is beautiful.”

“Thank you. But without him, I’d have no one to dance for.”

“Eh, what? Why?”

“You don’t know dancing. I’m good, but not good enough. Not anymore. Not since the injuries.”

“Injuries?”

“That might be the wrong word. The wear and tear.”

“I don’t—”

She stuck out her leg and rested it on the seat in front of her. I tried not to look. I understand that social customs about modesty don’t apply to dancers, but her legs were covered only by tights, and I wasn’t used to seeing a woman’s legs close up. She didn’t appear to notice my discomfort.

“Most of the damage,” she said, “is from jumping and landing. Some, of course, comes from the poses, but in my case, it was the hard surfaces. Thousands and thousands of landings.”

“Wait,” I said. “I’ve missed something. Damage?”

“To my leg. And hips. And, of course, feet. I can’t say I have fallen arches, because I don’t have any arches at all. It hurts when I walk, and when I stand still, and when I sit.”

“I—”

“Also, of course, my knee.” She put her leg down and put the other one up. “Much the same with this leg, but the knee problems aren’t as bad. To the left, however, I have hip and lower-back pain on this side.”

“Can’t medical sorcery help?”

“It helps a lot. It’s why I can still dance. But it can’t fix everything. And a lot of the damage happened during the Interregnum, when nothing could be done, and now it’s too late. But even at its best, there are limits to what can be done if you destroy your body.”

I thought about the various places on my person I’d been stabbed or cut, and how many of them still hurt sometimes, or, worse, itched.

I cleared my throat. “And so—”

“There are things I can’t do anymore. None of the troupes will have me. It’s how things work—we dance, our bodies break down, we stop dancing. But Lord Zhayin saw me, and liked my work, and so I have an extra few centuries. In the old days, in Housetown, I used to dance for his Teckla, too, but now I have to ration myself. The problem isn’t the pain, you see. It’s the not dancing. I hate not dancing.”

There was very little expression in her voice as she said that, and she continued staring straight ahead.

“So if, instead of dancing, you’d—”

“Not dancing was never an option.”

I considered. “That’s kind of a horrible thing. Do what you love, destroy yourself.”

“Better than destroying someone else.”

That was a little close to the mark. “You know who I am?”

“Vlad,” she said. “You told me.”

“Okay. Because what you said … never mind. How long have you been here?”

“Are all Easterners this curious?”

“How many Easterners have you met?”

“You’re the second. The other asked as many questions as you.”

“I’ll bet he wasn’t as good-looking.”

She didn’t laugh. She said, “It was a long time ago. And you all look alike to me. Although he didn’t have any jhereg with him. And I think his hair was lighter.”

“Never trust an Easterner without a pair of jhereg. How long did you say you’ve been here?”

When she didn’t answer at once, I glanced over at her, and she was frowning. “I’m not entirely sure,” she said.

“Interesting,” I said.

She shrugged.

“No idea? Days, weeks, years, decades?”

“Decades, anyway. Since the Interregnum. What’s the difference? I’m here now.”

“Yeah, so am I. And it may not matter to you, but I’m trying to figure this place out.”

“I don’t understand. What’s to figure out?”

“Why the kitchen was empty, and where the bread came from.”

“That doesn’t seem—”

“Also, what that weird thing was that made one of the servants scream.”

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“Not to mention why it is that half the time when I walk through a door in this place what I find can’t possibly be where it seems to be. I find that upsetting.”

“I understand.”

“Not to mention the whole matter of the ghost.”

“Ghost?”

“Or something. A woman named Tethia who—”

“Tethia?”

“Yes. You know the name?”

She frowned. “It sounds familiar, but I can’t think from where. Perhaps my Lord Zhayin has mentioned her.”

“But you don’t know anything about her?”

She shook her head.

“So, if you can’t tell me what’s going on around here, who can?”

“Lord Zhayin.”

“Yeah, I don’t think he cares to. Who else?”

“His butler.”

“Right. Harro. He’s not very forthcoming either.”

Her lips twitched. “I don’t think forthcoming is on the list of butler virtues. Also, I don’t trust him.”

“Why not?”

She frowned. “I can’t say. There’s something … no, I don’t know why. I just don’t.”

“All right. In any case, butler virtues aren’t something I’ve ever studied.” I found I was tapping Lady Teldra’s hilt and stopped. She was never a butler.

“What’s bothering you?” she asked.

“That’s an awfully direct question.”

She shrugged.

“Nothing really,” I said. “I’m just wandering around a magical building acting as if everything is perfectly normal.”