Mercedes Lackey - The Wizard of Karres

Trudi's panel passed him on to Cravan after only five minutes of audition. By the time he took his place on the stage in front of Cravan's panel, rumor had spread through the showboat like wildfire in pure oxygen. Everyone who could get away was trying to get into the theater to see him. Pausert was no exception, though, by the time he got there, Vonard had already gone through two major soliloquies with impressive ease.

What he saw up on the stage as he squeezed in between Hulik and Vezzarn was a man who, like Cravan, had a very memorable face. It was not, strictly speaking, handsome. The face was too saturnine for that, there was too much of an ironic lift to his eyebrows, and a cynical twist to his lips. But it was memorable, which was what a Second Lead needed. And the man moved like a cat. Just as Pausert got there, he was demonstrating that he even knew how to use a sword properly.

"Well, Master Vonard," said Cravan after a moment. "Familiarity with the very plays we are putting on, acting experience, something of a swordsman. You seem almost too good to be true."

"Well, Sir Richard, under most circumstances, I would agree with you," said Vonard, with a lift of his lip that was not quite a sneer. "Except that I come to you laden with some personal baggage, which is the reason why I am here on this backwater dirtball in the first place."

"Ah," Cravan said. "Weaknesses?"

"Near-fatal ones, I'm afraid. The first, the one that all too many of our profession are prey to—" Here he mimed a man pouring and drinking. "Not to put too fine a point on it, I drink to excess, I'm a very devil when drunk, and I never drink without getting drunk."

Cravan leaned forwards over his steepled hands. "And why do you drink?" he all but purred.

Vonard laughed. "My other weakness, sir, and the one that sent me here, putting all of the distance between us that my pocket could bear, here to drink until what was left in my pocket was gone."

"Ah," Cravan said, leaning back in his chair. "The female of the species?"

"Deadlier than the male," agreed Vonard. "Insofar as I was thinking at all, which was not a great deal between the madness and the wine, I had intended to commit slow suicide. Fortunately, both my money and my resolve ran out at the same time."

"Surely not just when we arrived?" asked Himbo Petey.

Vonard laughed. "Of course not. I have been driving produce floaters. The local— thespians " — here his lip curled—"were not inclined to welcome an outsider into their ranks, especially not one who, by this time, had the reputation as an ugly drunk. I was attempting to budget my drinking to allow me to put enough away to get me off this benighted rock. I didn't even know there was a showboat on-planet until one of my employers told me. I took a two-day leave to get here, hoping I could sign on for anything like an acting job. I didn't even know about the cattle call until I walked through the gate."

"And can we trust you to stay off the bottle if we take you on?" That was Trudi; Pausert recognized her voice.

"While I'm working, yes. I have never missed a rehearsal, a gig, or a line because of drink, and I don't intend to start now. When I am not working, however . . ." He shrugged. "I can't promise. Or at least, I can promise only that I will confine myself to quarters so that no one is inconvenienced but me."

Pausert watched as the panel—with the additions of Trudi and Petey—put their heads together. It seemed that they spoke together for a very long time, and it if seemed long to him, surely it seemed even longer to Vonard.

Finally they all sat back in their chairs. "Master Vonard," said Sir Richard, "pending completion of a three-planet probationary period, I believe you can consider yourself one of us."

Vonard bowed, and most of the company, including Pausert, broke into applause. And if there was as much relief as acceptance, well, that was only to be expected.

* * *

Whatever else, Vonard Kleesp's joining of the thespian troupe solved one problem for Pausert. Ethulassia left off her aggressive flirtation with the captain. The Dame's enthusiasms in that direction became entirely diverted onto the newcomer in their midst.

"Sure," sniffed Goth, after Pausert made it a point to mention it to her. "You don't stand a chance, Captain. You're not a romantic alcoholic, drowning his romantic woes in a bottle—and only to be saved by an even greater romance."

Pausert was relieved. And decided to say nothing when, the next day, he spotted Goth examining the level of the bottles in the Venture' s liquor cabinet.

* * *

"It's a day for new crewmates, it seems," said Vezzarn, when they caught up with him at dinner and told him about the audition. "In addition to the usual run of locals looking for adventure, Himbo Petey just snugged in a new tramp freighter that ran out of luck. Four-man crew, already assigned; a new roustabout who's doubling as a barker, a wiring tech—and you can bet he 'll be all over the ship—a new cook, and a cargomaster."

Goth looked up sharply, and Hulik and Pausert exchanged a glance. Every planet a showboat visited invariably produced a few local people who hired on. But the crew of a tramp freighter supposedly down on their luck . . .

That seemed oddly coincidental.

"I don't like it," growled Pul. "Think I'll go sniff them over."

Hantis nodded, and raised an eyebrow at Hulik and Pausert. "It does seem a bit too convenient, doesn't it?"

"Very," said Hulik. "I believe I'll go do some of my own sniffing."

"What do you think?" Pausert asked the girls.

The Leewit scowled. " Might be coincidence," she said, very grudgingly. "I suppose ships come up short of fuel and cash pretty often in ports like this."

"But you don't like it," said Pausert.

Both the Leewit and Goth shook their heads.

"Good. That makes it unanimous. So as soon as I rell a certain something—"

"And in the meantime," said Goth, looking innocent as a flower, "girls can get awfully hungry when we're still growing. We'll just see how good a cook the new one is." And she and the Leewit strolled off, hand in hand.

Hulik looked after them with an expression of reluctant admiration. "Ah, to be young and reckless again," she said.

"Now Hulik," said Pausert, daring to reach out and pat the back of her hand. "You were never that young."

His theater training was paying off; he managed to duck, just in time.

* * *

"All of them!" growled Pul. "All four of them! I could smell 'spy' from yards off. You ought to let me bite them, Hantis."

When you were being spied on, it was always better to keep on doing things that you'd made habitual. The crew of the Venture always got together for breakfast and supper. Everybody knew they'd arrived together, and still intended to leave together if they ever could, so nobody thought anything of the habit. You ate with your friends; nothing mysterious about that. And the noisy mess tent provided plenty of chatter to cover anything they were talking about.

Pausert shook his head. "Much as I sympathize, Pul, it's better to know who your enemies are and have them under your eye. If we get rid of these four, whoever their boss is will only send new agents, and this time we might not spot them."

"We ought to find out who their boss is , don't you think, Captain?" asked Goth.

He nodded. "Do you think, if we got into the Venture 's control cabin, you might be able to find out if they're communicating with someone?"

"Believe so. They're not real bright—they're all even on the same shift. Which means I only need to listen when they're off-shift."

"They'll probably use a code, though."

She shrugged. "A code's a language, too, Captain. We may not have tried it, but I bet the Leewit can use klatha to translate a code."