Mercedes Lackey - The Wizard of Karres

* * *

Light-years away on Uldune, the other Sedmons concurred. They used the House of Thunders' elaborate astrography equipment to look for possible destinations for ships low on air and fuel.

Vaudevillia came up on top of the probability list. Since they had no better leads, the Thunderbird left for the planet—on the same day, as it happened, when the Pidoon vidcasts were trumpeting the demise of the infamous Nairdoo Sheyan, pirate murderer of Coolum's World, along with two of her criminal associates.

* * *

The trail might have run cold on Vaudevillia—except that a lucrative offer got a freighter captain to remember that someone had been trying to scrounge fuel and air. The captain also recalled some radio-squalling about a vagabond hitching a ride on a very unwilling lattice ship.

For the first time in many days, the Sedmons smiled. They were aware of the habit of lattice ships of using old hulks for airtight holds. Such a maneuver would confound most of the people pursuing the Venture , sure enough. For a time, at least.

Sedmon nodded to Sedmon. "Pausert. He's a cunning one. We'll need a trace on as many lattice ships as possible."

Uldune and her operations had many agents. And subradio meant the news could be sent, fast.

* * *

Two days later, the Sedmons were in pursuit of the Petey B.

By the time that Cravan had all four of the new plays in production, most of the free money on Hanson's Reach had found its way into the coffers of Petey, Byrum, and Keep. The silver-eyed vatch had lured two more victims within the reach of Pausert's klatha hooks and had gotten fed twice more, despite Pausert's feelings of lingering guilt. Then the Petey B took to space again, and Pausert felt that he was finally going to be able to relax for a while.

Well . . . from having to look for spies and agents around every corner, at any rate. He suspected that with more free time on her hands, Dame Ethulassia was going to become a bit of a problem.

As, indeed, she did. But Pausert was able to evade that danger in a generally satisfactory manner. Although, on one occasion, he apparently didn't extract himself from her company quite quickly and smoothly enough. At least, the captain assumed that it had been Goth who teleported a still alive and wriggling jellysnail into his soup.

* * *

They set down again on another agro-world, this time not quite as primitive as the last—which was not, in Pausert's opinion, an advantage. Tornam was not backwards and isolated. It had a real spaceport that saw more than the occasional slow-freighter and desperate trader. There were five other spaceships already on the field when the Petey B set down on it.

Tornam also had an ISS office.

Hulik tried to reassure him that it was just a little backwater of a place; and that, even if the agents in charge had even heard of the Venture and its crew, they would hardly look for them snugged into a showboat. They would expect such desperate criminals to be trying to hide, not starring in a play.

It didn't help. In truth, the only reason Pausert wasn't starting at every sound and looking over his shoulder constantly was that, irrational as it was, he had begun to trust the little Silver-eyes. Or, perhaps, he just trusted that the vatch had come to realize that there was great deal more amusement to be had from helping Pausert and his crew than from trying to trip them up at every turn. But he still had the nervous certainty that disaster of some sort was just around the corner, a feeling of a metaphorical storm just below the horizon.

* * *

Yet, when disaster came, it had nothing to do with Pausert and the others. It didn't even happen in or around the showboat itself.

It happened when the second lead of Cravan's company, Ken Kanchen, was in Bevenford, the largest town on the planet. Kanchen took the part of Tybalt in Romeo and Juliet, of Horatio in Hamlet —pretty much any male part that required a handsome face, athletic ability, solid if not inspired acting, and the ability to memorize a part in two days,

He wasn't even there to do anything that could have conceivably gotten him into trouble. He was running a simple errand, visiting a local bookshop. Unfortunately, he stepped back into the street just at the wrong time. Traffic laws on Tornam were haphazard. Kanchen ended up under a floater, and then in a hospital, with more broken bones than anyone wanted to think about. He was just lucky that he was still alive—and that his handsome face was still untouched.

Not even Sir Richard could manage to act the part of Tybalt in a full body cast.

Himbo Petey had Kanchen brought back aboard the Petey B as soon as possible, of course. A ship the size of a showboat usually had a sick bay as good or better than anything a provincial planet could provide, and the Petey B was no exception to that. Besides, the showboats had a long tradition of taking care of their own—even people not as well-liked as Kanchen was by virtually everyone in the company and crew. The poor man was guaranteed better round-the-clock nursing as well as superior medical care; his problem would not be a lack of care and company, but a surfeit of it.

But the thespians were without their Second Male Lead. They were stretched so thin now that there was no understudy. Cravan was beside himself.

"There's no help for it," he said at last, after a meeting of the full company determined that there wasn't anyone able or ready to step into Ken's shoes. "I'll have to call for outside auditions. You'll all have to help me; otherwise we'll never find someone we can lick into shape in any reasonable period of time."

A groan went up. "Dick!" cried Alton. "You're going to kill us! The last time we had to hold a cattle call, on Plankelm, I was ready to slit my wrists before it was over!"

"Yes, but that cattle call netted us Trudi," Cravan countered, "and she's the best Female Character I've seen in—well, longer than I care to think."

Pausert glanced over at the plump, middle-aged woman who played Juliet's Nurse; she shrugged, but smiled.

"Tornam is more populous than Plankelm," Trudi commented. "A lot. Double the population in this city alone."

"Double the number of clueless idiots who think they can act," Alton groaned.

"It could be worse," Cravan pointed out ruthlessly. "We could be looking for a Juvenile. Then we'd have stage-mothers to contend with."

"If you dare inflict that on us, I will slit my wrists!" Alton started clawing at the prop dagger at his waist.

"Right. I want panels of four," Cravan continued, ignoring him. "Each one headed by an experienced Lead, which, Miss Hulik, I regret to say does not include you. Alton, Lassia, Trudi, myself, Hembert, Doeen, and Killary. That's six for initial auditions, with my panel making final judgment. Panel heads, pick your teams—you newcomers, please do not be offended if we don't select you. We need people who are dedicated thespians who are going to be living with this actor for a very long time, and we all know very well," here he bestowed a kindly smile on Pausert, Hulik, and Hantis, "that as soon as you can, barring that you decide differently, you are leaving us."

Was it that obvious? Pausert sighed. Not that he wanted to be on any blasted panels, listening to people stumble their way through speeches—not after the way that Alton had been carrying on.

* * *

For two days, during which the theater was dark, the panels held nonstop auditions in any little space that would hold a table and four chairs. The pickings were thin, though the applicants were legion—in two days, only three candidates were passed up to Cravan's panel waiting in the theater. At the end of the two days, however, about the time that the panel members were beginning to look haggard and despairing, Vonard Kleesp appeared.