Коллектив авторов - Realms of the Dragons vol.1

"You are the man I need," she said, and his next heartbeat was a prayer to Sune that it was true. Mnomene, however, turned immediately to business. "Craft me a tragedy to break a miser's heart, perform it each night for three rides, and I will match your receipts for the duration."

It was a good offer. Even with poor attendance, a guaranteed match of receipts would do much to recoup the year's losses. His previous protests all but forgotten, Talbot almost agreed at once, but years of his father's unwelcome lessons had left an indelible impression on his brain. No matter how hard he had striven to avoid the fate, his parentage demanded that he would always be, in part, a coin-counter.

"Match the receipts for a full house," he said. "Plus expenses for all costumes, sets, and props. And we will discuss the details."

It was Mnomene's turn to gape. She recovered smoothly, smiling down at Talbot with an expression of dawning respect. He noticed then that she was very tall, and her neck was as long and as elegant as a swan's.

"I will guarantee half the house," she countered. "And I must approve all of the costumes, sets, and props if I am to cover their cost. Also, you must always reserve the finest seat in the house for my guest."

Talbot nodded as he walked toward the base of the gallery. The edge of the mezzanine rail was twelve feet from the floor, but he leaped straight up and over it to land on the wooden floor. One of the advantages of being the Black Wolf was that he enjoyed all the beast's strength even in human form, but he was disappointed to see neither surprise nor particular admiration for his stunt in Mnomene's expression.

"You will be wanting plenty of fight scenes," he said hopefully.

"If you think that will draw a bigger audience, then by all means," she said. "I want the largest possible audience, and for word of the play to travel far and wide. The details I leave to you, so long as you craft the drama around this scheme." She handed a roll of vellum pages sealed with gold-flecked red wax.

Talbot accepted the scroll and broke the seal. His fingers tingled as he unrolled the pages and scanned the outline. As he read, Mnomene perched upon the mezzanine rail, graceful as a bird upon a branch. Each time Talbot glanced up to see her watching him, he felt a warm flush upon his face. Nonetheless, he could not resist continued glimpses.

"This has… potential," he said at last.

"It needs an artist's touch," said Mnomene. She slipped down from the rail and put a hand on his arm.

"This King Krion," he said. "He could make quite a tragic hero."

"No," said Mnomene. "Do not try to make a hero of him. He is a miserly old fool, blind to the qualities of his offspring."

She did not raise her voice, but Talbot felt the heat of her body rise as she gripped his arm with surprising strength. He realized she was taller than any woman he had ever met, only a handspan shorter than he.

"That may be, my lady," he said. "Yet an audience must find something sympathetic about him, or the play will not move them."

Mnomene hesitated, considering.

"They must be moved," she agreed. "But they must see his greed, too, and know that he is wrong to withhold his treasury from the prince and princesses."

"Well," said Talbot, "it would help if the children were not all so innocent. Perhaps if two of them schemed to inherit his fortune alone, leaving the other with nothing…"

She frowned at the suggestion but then slowly nodded.

"That could do, so long as the youngest daughter remains true. She must be our heroine."

Talbot looked down at her, finally feeling comfortable enough to smile as he might at a pretty barmaid.

"The youngest daughter, is it?"

Mnomene pushed back and released his arm, but then she offered her hand and said, "We have a bargain?" — Talbot imagined how Mallion would triumph at the news of his hasty capitulation to a situation he had so fervently opposed. It occurred to him that he had been smitten by Mnomene's beauty, but no one could say he had not made a fair bargain with her. He took her hand and felt its iron grip match the strength of his own.

Sivana spun through the air and hit the floor rolling until she slammed into the stage-right pillar with a bone-crunching impact. Above her head, Perivel's sword shook on its pins where it hung as one of the set's permanent decorations. The massive blade Talbot inherited from his great uncle was far too dangerous to use in a stage fight, but Talbot kept it there both as an impressive decoration and as a handy weapon in case serious trouble ever returned to the Wide Realms.

Sivana glanced nervously up at the monstrous sword, rubbed her shoulder, and said, "Take it easy, big fellow!"

"Sorry," moaned Ennis, holding his quarterstaff gingerly, as if it had suddenly become hot to the touch.

Presbart took it away from him.

"Tal!" shouted Presbart. "We need you down here. This choreography needs work."

"The problem is not with the choreography," muttered Mallion, rubbing his chin with the back of his hand.

A bruise was already forming where Ennis had clipped him earlier. Behind Mallion, two junior players clutched their elbows.

Ennis slumped his shoulders and hung his head. He had been exceptionally clumsy ever since meeting Mnomene. It was worst when she was present, but even a day after her last visit to consult with Talbot, her aura lingered, inspiring almost all of the actors to greater fervor. Everyone wished to please their new patron-everyone except the tasloi, who scurried into their nest above the stage whenever she arrived, and Presbart, who became uncharacteristically quiet in her presence. The old actor had even seemed ready to protest the commission-a futile gesture, once Talbot and any one other shareholder decided to support it-until he saw the coffer full of gems she offered as initial payment on the work.

Talbot looked down from the upper gallery, where he had made a desk between the benches so he could work in the fresh air near the gap between the roofs. Throughout the rehearsal, he had paid scant attention to the battle scene in which the king's disgraced but loyal retainer fought the soldiers of the treacherous prince and princess. Usually Talbot's greatest pleasure was in directing those scenes, but for the first time he found himself absorbed in the text.

When he saw that no one was bleeding or unconscious, Talbot waved his quill absently and said, "You take care of it, Mallion. This dialogue between Krion and Nesme needs more work."

"Come on, Tal," complained Sivana. "You have been saying the same thing about every scene with them. It's good enough, which is more than I can say for this battle."

"It is rather good," said Presbart.

That got Talbot's attention, since Presbart was notoriously critical of any text they performed, even those bought from real playwrights.

"I think Tal just wants any excuse for more 'story conferences' with Mnomene," said Ennis.

His grin evaporated when he saw Sivana scowling at him and hefting a practice sword, vengeance in her eyes.

Tal set aside the quill and spilled sand upon the page he had been writing. "Very well," he sighed.

He stood up and stretched until the bones in his neck popped. Then he spun down around the support beam to land on the mezzanine rail, from which he leaped out in a somersault to land in a swashbuckling posture on the stage.

Applause from a lone viewer came from the ground entrance. All of the other players turned to see Mnomene approach, but Talbot had scented her moments earlier.

"What a show-off!" Sivana stage-whispered.

Talbot's heightened senses no longer fooled any of the regular players.

Talbot shot Sivana a glare. Yes, he had been showing off, but he did not want it to be so obvious, especially to Mnomene.