The Arcana: Shadow Wars, Codex I

XXXI

Kellis

In which an eidolon visits the theater

“And once again we are successful, Lady Lotus!” Brison Loris exclaimed. He threw his arms around Bessa and kissed her cheek. He kept one arm around her shoulders as they began the walk from the wings of the Sedge & Bee, the largest theater in Karnassus.

“Your actors have done an excellent job as usual,” Bessa agreed.

Indeed, Brison was an exceptional showman, vindicating her choice for this next phase of the Aeternity War. As soon as she and the others returned to Kyanopolis from rescuing Edana, Bessa spent a week visiting every entertainment she could, particularly the plays. She studied the performances with a critical eye. One acting troupe looked particularly promising, she noted. The Honey Cakes, led by Brison Loris.

Then came the meeting on the Jolly Sylph, and afterwards Bessa cloistered herself in her room at Lady Nensela’s home in Kyanopolis. For three days and three nights she wrote her play. On the fourth day she strolled into Fanuco’s to order a round of drinks for everyone. As the Star Dragons promised, Brison was there.

Catching his eye was the easy part; the Star Dragon dossier reported his fascination with redheads. To play up her own copper tresses Bessa wore a turquoise chiton, and tucked a huge white lotus behind her ear. Her story, and the crowd’s reaction to it, enchanted Brison so much she easily talked him into giving her a percentage of the gross proceeds. So far, he did not appear to regret it.

Today marked their third performance since arriving in ancient Athyr-ai. So brilliant a troupe leader was Brison, and so thrilling was Bessa’s play, that Brison accepted without question her claim that a wealthy fan had slipped them portal passes after another successful showing one day in Kyanopolis. The passes, courtesy of Ziri, ensured Brison gave in to Bessa’s campaign to have them go on tour.

The play proved just as popular in Karnassus, the crown jewel of Athyr-ai. But Bessa’s smile was perfunctory as she scanned the departing audience from her vantage point in the tunnel entrance leading to the dressing rooms.

Taking Lady Nensela’s advice to heart, Bessa always studied playgoers to check for anyone who made strenuous objections to the play. Even accounting for taste, Bessa had worked to ensure such people would stand out back in Kynapolis.

In Karnassus, the stakes were a hundredfold higher: Justin Kellis still resided in the city. Once arriving in Karnassus, Bessa contrived a reason for Brison to drop off ‘good seat’ passes for the staff at the famed Library of Karnassus. A snare. And not two hours ago, Justin Kellis stepped into it.

Terror and triumph fought it out in Bessa’s mind, but she quickly settled on sheer pragmatism: watch the eidolon, in case he might do something notable.

However with the play over Kellis was rising from his seat, and Brison was leading her to his study room. Before each show Brison met his actors there, and doled out encouragement and advice. After each show Brison held post-mortems, giving out praise and critiques as warranted.

A perfect opportunity to slip away and get a message to Ziri.

Having already mentally rehearsed her excuse, all she needed now was a lull in Brison’s chatter, which looked to be coming right about now—

“Good evening.”

Kellis!

The tall lanky figure silhouetted in the light of the tunnel entrance could only be the eidolon; he was nearly two feet taller than everyone around him. His stride was so long he would soon draw even with them.

Bessa’s heart skipped, but she managed outward calm. Killing her and Brison would be a tactical error; their deaths would bring greater fame to the play than it currently enjoyed. Especially since the play alluded to Honoria, and the destruction of her house, which resonated with the audience in Karnassus.

Still.

“Watch over us, I beseech you Amyntas,” Bessa whispered.

From the beginning, Ziri and Lady Nensela both insisted neither Brison nor the actors should know they had been drafted into the war. Bessa had fiercely argued otherwise.

Edana settled the argument, saying, “In Silura our success in convincing the legion and the villagers hinged on our demonstrating the lightning weapon and you trading on your family name. The ‘Ruby Lotus’ can do neither of those things. And only as the Ruby Lotus are you and your group protected. Our enemies are not looking for her. But without this play, no one in Rasena Valentis will be looking for our enemies, or know how to protect themselves from them.”

Conceding the point Bessa relented, though having Kellis literally at her back now gave her second thoughts. Better to pretend she hadn’t heard him, so she laughed loudly at the witticism Brison happened to utter at that moment. All the way to the study room she made conversational noises with Brison, and the wandering stars who ceaselessly orbited him.

Brison basked in the attention, occasionally stroking the snow-and-ash stubble embellishing his face. He looked like a sculptor’s model with his defined chin, angular jawline, and gently hollowed cheeks. In his youth, said Lady Nensela, Brison’s blue eyes were described as mesmerizing. In the current day Bessa added a second adjective, piercing, for they hinted of the shrewd intellect behind them.

When Bessa first met him he was caught between the awkward stage of aging pretty boy teetering at the edge of has-been-town, and distinguished silver fox in master-of-his-game-city. His latest success with Bessa’s play was accelerating the perception of him in the latter direction. A perception grounded in reality. His showmanship prowess could keep an amphitheater filled for weeks, exactly what Bessa needed.

Now the entourage fanned out when they reached Brison’s study. One member, Daphne, eyed Bessa sullenly. Bessa pretended not to notice.

Quietly—for now—Daphne whispered of the intrigues she thought Brison had with Bessa. Early on Bessa made it clear to Brison there could be nothing between them, and she made sure to give no fuel to the idea. Her own actions would speak for her, at least until she found a way to douse Daphne’s embers.

With so many people jostling about, Bessa did not reach the door in time to shut it. As she feared, Kellis was persistent. His loud greeting drew their attention as he stepped out of the shadows and into the brightly lit room. Brison smiled politely, but Bessa said nothing.

“I congratulate you on the success of your play,” Kellis boomed, with a smile that did not touch his flinty eyes.

With a sweep of his crimson cape he bowed graciously. When he straightened his head nearly brushed the ceiling. Shorter than a giant, of course, but in shouting distance of seven feet. But his height was not the only unusual thing about him.

Though the sleeves of his tunic were long, they failed to hide that his hands nearly reached his knees. His skeletal fingers were elongated enough that if he were to wrap his hand around Bessa’s neck, his fingers would overlap his thumb.

Bessa could not help staring at those spider-like digits. Did the man the body belonged to allow himself to be enticed into possession with a promise to look more normal, more attractive? Such deformities could not have been easy to live with.

Nevertheless, the eidolon dressed his host body stylishly, in a smart blue tunic. So scant was his figure that if his fancy leather belt weren’t clasped tightly about his waist, it would slide down his bird-like legs to his ankles. At least his facial features appeared more normal, even if his hazel eyes were a trifle close-set. A strong pinch might snap off his thin aquiline nose, Bessa imagined, so fragile did it seem.

“Thank you, good man, thank you very much,” Brison said. His eyes crinkled as he smiled.

Brison did not take success for granted, as Bessa learned early on. Rather than replace faded, threadbare tunics, he simply relied on clever patch jobs and embroidery. He preferred instead to reinvest profits into the company.

The favor fountain could dry up at any moment, he explained. I’ll put my coin where I can make more coins, not squander it on fancy clothes. What I’ve got still works. Recently, Bessa finally managed to convince him that looking as if his money pouch held silver would make it more likely for investors to yield up gold.

“I understand you come from Kyanopolis,” Kellis continued. His soft voice was far too smooth for Bessa’s liking.

“Indeed,” said Daphne, moving up beside Brison. “This play is very popular, and you were smart to catch it now before we move on.”

“Move on? You’re not staying in Karnassus?”

So casual he sounded.

“Oh, dear me, no,” Daphne said, with a toss of her silky, sable hair. As Bessa understood it, Daphne once played coquettish girls on stage, until she insisted on meatier parts. Yet when nervous she reverted to that behavior, including batting the long lashes framing her luminous pearl grey eyes, as she did now. Kellis’s unsettling features must have gotten to her.

Hugging herself Daphne continued, “There’s great demand! Although, Karnassus is the most civilized place we’ve been to. Karnassians know how to properly show their appreciation for quality performances.”

By “properly” Besssa knew she meant the amount of gold coins appreciative audiences tossed their way after each show.

“Well then, I am fortunate to catch you now. May I extend an invitation for a private showing? Perhaps three nights from now? We will pay you twice your usual rate.” Kellis watched Brison’s face.

Bessa tensed. Everything was happening as Ziri anticipated, right down to Kellis’s offer. Accepting the offer was part of the plan. And Ziri insisted his team had ensured Brison and the actors were proof against Kellis and his minions. Still, she didn’t want to put those efforts to the test. Not after everything their enemies had proved themselves capable of doing.

Innocent of danger, Brison stood a little taller. “Come to my office and we’ll talk about it,” he said smoothly.

For once he was not surprised when Bessa accompanied him. After so many years as the sole authority in his company, having Bessa as a partner did not sit well with him. But while Brison was an excellent showman he was terrible at business, and Bessa’s conscience ensured he would not remain untutored in this matter.

This part of herself, the enterprising woman of business Aurelia Cunovendi raised her to be, she could not suppress no matter what name she called herself now. All her life Bessa dreamed of becoming a famous Siluran playwright, to give honor to her people. But she saw no way to play her current role as herself without simultaneously endangering her family. The vineyard couldn’t move, but she could, and a moving target was harder to hit, no?

To that end, Bessa carefully cultivated a mysterious, yet larger-than-life persona, the Ruby Lotus of Larissopolis. An obvious sobriquet, denoting origins in an obscure backwater town. Neatly enough, her cover might even pass casual inspection well enough to avoid a truth seer’s attentions: she did come from a Larissa, as Papouli once said it was his mother’s name. Brison didn’t pry, and mercifully, he merely thought Bessa eccentric and exotic, which accounted for any odd missteps she made in her disguise.

Once ensconced in Brison’s office, Bessa took her place beside him. Justin Kellis eyed her warily. Bessa defiantly met his gaze. Her name—well, her alias—was on the play meant to destroy him. Let him come at her, not Brison or his people.

Nevertheless, she let Brison do most of the talking. Deliberately, she played the foil in his negotiations, extracting from Kellis seemingly harmless concessions to sweeten the deal.

After the meeting Brison insisted on personally escorting Kellis out of the theater. Bessa followed them, on the pretext that she, too, must go out. While the eidolon occupying Kellis’s body needed it for strategic reasons—and therefore wouldn’t usurp Brison’s—the eidolon might still harm Brison by some infernal means. Kellis wouldn’t get the chance, not if Bessa had anything to say about it.

Once Kellis safely departed, Bessa found one of Ziri’s messengers waiting at the usual spot, a carry-out tavern across from the theater. When she returned, Brison was delivering the news of the private show to a cheering group.

“Good of you to suggest he include dinner as well, Lady Lotus,” Brison added, which elicited another round of cheers ... from all except Daphne.

Stone-faced, the actress merely folded her arms. When Bessa first joined the troupe, an actor told her Daphne had been campaigning to become Brison’s business manager. Since childhood she had been part of the company, and played no small role in its successes. Yet her efforts, and hopes, were dashed the moment Bessa swept into Fanuco’s.

That Bessa was more educated—she boldly wrote her byline on the play, in the metallic ink Edana gave her—and of a higher social status—such soft hands—served only as salt in the wound. When Brison agreed to Bessa’s condition of receiving a portion of the profits, Daphne locked herself in her room and wouldn’t come out for three days.

One of the actors let drop that Daphne was a foundling, abandoned in infancy. Foundlings were often appropriated by disreputable people for disreputable trades. Acting was the lesser of evils Daphne could be trained for; it was a step up from prostitution.

However, Daphne was ambitious, and saw Bessa as a threat to her aspirations. An obvious foothold for Kellis, if he wished to destroy the troupe. Time to seal off that particular route, with one of those pincer maneuvers her tutor went on and on about when he lectured Bessa about ancient battles.

Bessa shrugged. “It’s the least Kellis could do, and saves us money. Let’s allocate funds where it will matter: the costumes. Daphne, did you not say they needed more polish?”

Daphne eyed her. True, she did say the costumes need to be traded up or refined, but she did so in a conversation Bessa was not part of. Let her now wonder what other utterances had made their way back to Bessa. No fool was Daphne, so Bessa gambled she had just bought herself an end to the gossip. Left flank struck.

After a beat Daphne valiantly regained her composure, seizing the opportunity Bessa had handed her. “Yes, and I have a few ideas for improvements, including some costume makers we might employ here in Karnassus. We should discuss this further, don’t you think?” Daphne glanced at Brison.

Brison looked from one woman to the other in surprise. “Are you sure about this?” He turned to Bessa.

Daphne gritted her teeth.

“Our costumes were fine in Kyanopolis and the other cities, but Daphne is right,” Bessa said in her most honeyed voice. “Karnassus is famed for its sophistication, matched only by Valentis. The story dazzles, the actors dazzle, but the play should also be a feast for the eyes, no? Let our sets and costumes sparkle and shine. Especially for this private party, where we will be seen up close and every detail—or lack of attention to it—will be noticeable.”

Brison stroked his chin. The scrape of his fingers against his stubble made a soft scritch. “Well yes, but surely—”

“Of course you are busy, so let us not add another morsel to your plate,” Bessa said. “Let Daphne take the lead in this matter. You’ve said yourself she has an eye for that which is pleasing to the eye. Consider this her sphere of responsibility.”

“And the money?”

Bessa caught Daphne’s eye. Slack-faced, the actress appeared to be caught in a daze. Excellent. Now for the right flank.

“Daphne? You are to be creative, and dazzling, but you are to work your glamour from within our budget, which we can discuss in a little bit. Agreed?”

Daphne managed to rally. “To that end, what if we buy some slaves of our own? They’ll make the clothes to order without charging us for the rush time. And, they won’t cut into our profits.”

Brison coughed. “The slaves are a long-term matter. In the time allotted, the known dressmakers are the better option. Better still, see what you can find at the second-chance stores.”

They worked out the details. Bessa allowed herself a small sigh of relief.

Everything was going according to plan.

All went well in the following days. Just as Bessa intended, her “pincer maneuver” resulted in Daphne becoming more cooperative. Therefore, when Bessa suggested adding certain elements to the costumes, Daphne didn’t put up a fight.

The baubles and patterns woven into the costumes were indeed lovely, yes. But they were also spells of protection. Ziri had procured the amulets, which passed for simple costume gems to the casual observer.

The amulets were a source of debate between Bessa and the arcanus. If Kellis sensed what they were and what they did, wouldn’t he also assume they were on to him?

Lady Nensela settled the matter, pointing out the play itself was a powerful signal that Kellis had enemies who could unmask him at will.

“Should he investigate, what would he learn other than that Brison’s company is long-standing? A company led by a former actor and comprised of actors trained up from childhood. The obvious conclusion he will draw is that someone is using the company as a cat’s-paw.”

Which was where Bessa came in. Her job was to lay the trail for Kellis to find Ziri.

“Don’t attempt to deceive a fellshade,” Edana warned. “Let the truth suffice. Kellis will be relieved the Star Dragons, a known enemy, are the ones influencing the play. An answer which lends itself to a simple solution. If he assays the baubles, he will know they came from the Star Dragons.”

Whether Kellis was omniscient or not wouldn’t make a difference, then. He would realize the theater company was not his problem; dealing with the Star Dragons would be his first priority.

And his undoing.

If all went well.

“Ready?”

Brison stood in Bessa’s doorway. The sole perquisite she’d requested was a desk in her bedroom, which was where she was working when he arrived.

“Finished, my lady,” said the troupe’s ornamentalist, who was responsible for their hair and cosmetics.

Tieback braids restrained Bessa’s curls, but the hairdresser showed her artistry in the elegant rosette knot that joined the braids together in the back. As well, she wove a string of peridots and pearls through Bessa’s braids, coiling them around the knot. Heirlooms from Bessa’s mother, the jewels now carried Halie’s blessing against infernal powers.

“Marvelous,” Bessa judged. With a smile of thanks she dismissed the woman. She scooped up a shimmersilk shawl from where she left it on her bed. The diaphanous fabric allowed her to stay cool, maintain propriety, and complemented her dress. Perfect.

However, her hands shook slightly as she wrapped the shawl about herself, prompting Brison to ask if she were nervous.

“I simply want this night to sow future successes,” she evaded. “Someone at the party might make an excellent patron.”

Brison lifted his eyebrow and offered his arm. “A patron, you say? Aren’t you the ambitious one.”

“Did you get this far without ambition? Your own, at least?” Bessa accepted his arm, allowing him to escort her.

“Now you sound like Daphne,” Brison complained, though he flashed a good-natured smile. “Listen to good ol’ Uncle Brison, my girl: stay away from patrons. Cherish independence. Patrons are always quick to think they can do your job better than you can. Patrons get ideas. They make suggestions. And when they think they’re holding all the purse strings they become insufferable. It’s not worth it.”

The Star Dragon’s dossier said Brison’s straitened circumstances came courtesy of a disastrous patron he’d had several years previous.

“Fair enough. Then, how about if I aim for us to be popular enough to get invited to parties, without simultaneously getting ourselves a new boss?”

“As long as they’re willing to pay double our rate,” Brison conceded. “Did you expect this to happen when you suggested I leave the good-seat passes at the library?”

“You didn’t?” It was how she got around him; she simply implied any brilliant idea of hers would have occurred to him as well. “You realize Justin Kellis is likely a freedman? His patron probably ordered him to invite us. If nothing else, he or the library might offer to buy a copy of the play. I trust you will have a worthy fee ready.”

“Smart thinking, sweet lotus. I regret giving you a share of the profits less and less.” He was smiling when he said it.

She laughed, though she still mused over the necessity of buying a share of the company. Playwrights normally sold their plays for a fee to theater groups, and earned nothing further, even if the play itself earned ten times that amount once staged. Bessa was too much Aurelia’s granddaughter to let herself be cheated so.

The sultry day had already give way to a balmy evening when Bessa and Brison stepped outside, and into a rented carriage Brison had arranged.

Like Honoria, Kellis lived in an expansive hilltop estate, but his was in the exclusive Gate District, where every home enjoyed a view of the fabled Karnassus Gate.

The Gate was magnificent: two glittering columns of blue adamant, at least five stories tall, bearing an arch of polished copper inset with lapis lazuli filigree. No, wait—Lady Nensela had insisted it was not filigree; after the Third Cataclysm her people had conquered the Karnassus Gate. The ‘filigree’ was actually an example of scriptomancy, a kind of magic practiced by ancient Athyraian sorcerers, where to write of a thing was to make it so.

A heat haze undulated between the columns. Every so often the haze would vanish, and a swirl of bright copper clouds would iris open as travelers passed in or out of the Gate. Bessa sighed wistfully whenever she caught sight of it. How wonderful it would be if more Gates still survived!

The sparkling structure dominated the skyline, for it stood atop another hill, separated from the street by seventy stairs carved into the hillside. The staircase, spanning the width of eight oxen-drawn carriages, was bisected in the middle with a graduated ramp reserved for wheeled traffic.

Bringing the world to Rasena Valentis, and bringing Rasena Valentis to the world, as the motto declared on the welcome arch at the foot of the stairs.

Brison declared Kellis’s neighborhood was proof of Bessa’s suggestion that Kellis was connected to money.

Kellis greeted them personally. Seven of his friends joined them in the banquet hall. Right away Brison presented Kellis with a jug of finely aged wine, which Bessa had insisted they give to him as a gift, “for your generosity,” Brison said.

She and Brison argued about it the other day, but again Bessa prevailed, pointing out they were building a persona for their troupe. A memorable persona, which would get them talked about.

As their host, Kellis could not refuse the gift. When his friends heard the wine was a rare vintage from Valentis they immediately insisted on enjoying it on the spot.

Once the actors drank, Bessa allowed herself to relax. As was usual amongst Rasena Valentians, the wine was cut with sea water. Siding with Siluran attitudes in this matter, Bessa always disparaged the custom. However, the custom allowed Halie to place the final part of the spell of protection on the actors.

Bessa brought the cup to her lips. She wrinkled her nose at the scent of the brine. Such a savage abomination against perfectly good wine! Reluctantly she drank, bracing herself so she did not gag.

Kellis, she noticed, held his cup to his lips, but never once sipped.

The dinner went well, and Bessa deployed every ounce of charm in praising the Reaper for the bounty He provided for Kellis’s table. This prompted one of Kellis’s friends to gaily invoke the Reaper’s blessing over their meal, allaying some of Bessa’s worries of what Kellis might have done to it.

However, when Kellis asked if they knew the identity of the Ruby Lotus, Bessa felt a frisson of fear when Brison proudly pointed to her.

This was her cue.

Anticipating this moment, Bessa carried out her stratagem of telling a breezy, carefully edited version of what she ‘heard’ of the events in Silura. She hinted of Ziri as a knowledgeable source of information, enough to whet Kellis’s appetite.

When the time came for the show, Kellis made a point of sitting next to Bessa. “You must tell me more about these giants before you leave, Lady Lotus.”

Kellis said little throughout the performance, but his restless fidgeting betrayed him. His friends clapped and whistled at all the right parts, raving enthusiastically when the show was over.

They chattered for a little bit about whether the giants could be defeated the way they were in the play.

“It’s peculiar the giants can throw lightning around like the khrestai can. One does wonder,” said a guest. Young, handsome, with a devastating smile, the princely man elicited no protest from Daphne when he reclined on her couch and began sharing a cake of honey and sesame with her.

Bessa smiled enigmatically. “Do we not speak of the ‘Known World’, my lord? Creatures who can harness lightning are not from around here.”

By now the news of the Battle of Red Pointe was starting to trickle in, and soon would be more widely known. It would bolster the play, and she hoped the troupe could linger long enough in Karnassus for the news to pique everyone’s curiosity.

Soon enough Kellis asked her about Ziri. Or rather, he asked how she knew of certain news.

Make him work for the information you give him. He will value it more and question it less. So Ziri had advised her. Therefore she played coy, although she was not entirely faking it: she feared sending an eidolon to anyone’s doorstep. With each breadcrumb she dropped, she heard Ziri’s voice telling her, feed an enemy before you kill him.

Every muscle in her body ached with tension until at last she and the troupe crossed the threshold of their apartment building. Once there, Bessa went straight to her room.

Waiting for her on her windowsill was a silverbird, another of Lady Nensela’s animachina. Silver-feathered and tawny-bellied, the mechanical birds were modeled after the true silverbirds of the seer’s homeland. But what truly mattered was their ability to quote what was said to them.

“He’s going for it,” she said without preamble. The bird flew away. By the time she finished her bedtime routine the bird had returned.

“Tomorrow, then,” it said in Ziri’s voice. “Be ready.”

Two days later a messenger from Ziri summoned Bessa, on the pretext of giving her an invitation from a friend.

Ziri’s group met in the backroom at Alexander’s, which was like Fanuco’s but with a Karnassian accent. Alexander’s blended Pelasgian, Rasena Valentian, and Athyraian influences in both decor and cuisine: the columns used lotus capitals, the floors were tiled in mosaics, and lovely youths and maidens served a sweet crimson beer brewed from wheat and dates. The tinkle and clang of the sistrum kept rhythm with the relaxing strum strum thrum of the eight-string kithara, a pleasant accompaniment to the lively chatter of the guests.

Ziri’s attention to detail reassured Bessa; for her to be seen in a place like this would arouse no curiosity at all. Her evenings here would pass unnoticed, and unremarked on.

“What is it? Did it work? I see you’re still alive, Ziri,” Bessa said by way of greeting.

Edana handed her a glass of violatium, a wine infused with violets and sweetened with honey. This being Athyr-ai and Alexander’s being a fine establishment, the violatium came in a glass cup that showed off the brilliant violet hue of the wine.

“Justin Kellis is ours,” Ziri replied.

Bessa allowed the sweet floral wine to roll about on her tongue before she swallowed. “Isn’t that good?”

Leo snickered. “That was the easy part, O Ruby Lotus. Now we need to expose him.”

The play had everyone talking, all according to plan. The Salamandra in the marketplace were downright giddy. They raved about “the Lady Aelia character,” and talked up the play in general.

And were making a killing selling their acid.

They weren’t alone in their profits; demand for amulets against Erebossi was up sharply as well.

“But not high enough,” Ziri said. “Too many people still think it’s just a play. That’s where Kellis comes in. Your play has introduced the idea of Erebossi walking amongst us in alliance with the giants. It’s time to unmask Kellis.”

They looked at her.

Bessa narrowed her eyes in turn. “This won’t involve the theater, will it? The actors will not be used for this, will they?”

“If you can arrange to have the theater emptied of all personnel, say in three days time, we’ll take it from there,” Ziri said.

Halie added, “Fear not, Bessa. The tide is turning.”

Bessa decided her best bet to clear the theater was to get an invitation to a private showing. Preferably one with a fee so high Brison would assent to it. To Bessa’s delight, she didn’t have to seek an invitation to a private showing; people sought her.

Brison pointed out ethnic Rasenans and Valentians believed her a novelty, a woman and a playwright. They needed confirmation two such people could exist in the same body. At least the Karnassian Pelasgians were claiming Bessa wrote as if Thalia had come from the Everlasting Lands and breathed her spirit into her. Celebrated in ancient times, the works of the poetess were currently the focus of a renaissance amongst the local elite.

In the end, Bessa was able to play the suitors off one another, until she obtained the conditions that made Brison smile for hours.

For the next step she secretly managed to wrangle an exclusive lease on the theater during the same week of the group’s private showings. She used her own funds for this, to avoid questions from Brison.

Securing the exclusive use of the building gave Bessa leeway to send the slaves out for a “much-deserved day off” while she arranged for some custom maintenance. The slaves balked, but abruptly acquiesced when she offered to pay whatever wages they would have earned that day, plus half more.

“Give my secretary the receipts,” Ziri told her when she met him again. “And great job on giving my people cover. They can be the maintenance crew for your ‘project’.”

“What about witnesses?” Bessa asked. “What difference will it make if Kellis changes, but no one’s there to see it?”

“Trust me. Everyone will know about this.”

On “Execution Day” the actors were on their third encore of their private showing when alarm bells tolled through the city.

“Is there a fire?” the host, Lord Silvanus wondered.

They went to the roof of his palatial home, where they could look over the city. Companies of watchmen raced through the streets. The watchmen converged on one street in particular.

“The theater!” Brison cried.

“No, it can’t be,” Daphne said quickly. “It can’t be on fire, it can’t be!”

Brison’s jaw worked. Without a word he hurried for the backstairs, which led to the street, with Bessa and the others pursuing close behind him.

A throng was already milling about when they arrived. Brison, Bessa, and Daphne pushed forward as best they could.

“It is the theater,” Brison said, dismay in his voice.

Feigning terror Bessa gripped his arm, but otherwise kept silent.

Daphne asked the others in the crowd what was going on.

“A sorcerer!”

“A monster!”

“An eidolon! Like in the play! An eidolon attacked the theater!”

Eidolon made Brison freeze for a moment, then he charged forward. The trio fought their way to the head of the crowd.

The city’s pegasus prime was in charge. “Everybody step back! Step back! Don’t cross this line!”

With an air-slash of his finger a bright silver line appeared on the street. The abjuration would allow no crossing.

“What’s going on?” Brison shouted over the crowd.

He was not the only one asking this, and the sorcerer paid no attention to him.

“Is anyone hurt?” Bessa shouted. She glanced to and fro. Was it a good sign or a bad sign that she saw none of the Star Dragons? “Sir! We work here. Is anyone hurt?”

The sorcerer’s reply was aborted when a centurion interrupted with, “It’s coming out! It’s coming out!”

The crowd directly ringing the shield quieted immediately, awaiting the reveal.

Bessa’s heart pounded.

Someone thumped her back, complaining she was blocking the view. How short people were in this part of the world! But shifting position only invited complaints from other people, so Bessa ignored them all.

The city Watch came into view. Amongst them floated a silver bubble, bearing their prey. And what prey it was, a horrific chimerical vulture man, long-necked, and indigo-skinned. Long skeletal fingers clawed at the bubble. No sound came out when he opened a mouth full of sharp teeth to roar or scream or curse.

The crowd shrank back. Daphne screamed, hurting Bessa’s ears. Unfortunately, Bessa couldn’t protect them because Daphne trapped her right arm when she reflexively sank her nails into it.

“What. Is. That?” Brison thundered.

“How did anything looking like that get in the theater?” someone else demanded.

The pegasus prime apparently wondered the same thing. He snapped his fingers, and his sub prime stepped forward. They were joined by the centurions, who together uttered a spell as they tossed holy salt on the creature.

One, two, three heartbeats and the creature began thrashing in earnest. A bright golden light flashed, forcing them to avert their eyes. In the time it took to regain their sight, Bessa heard the watchmen exclaim.

Daphne recovered first.

“It’s Justin Kellis,” she cried. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she began jumping up and down. “By the gods, it’s Justin Kellis! Brison! It’s Justin Kellis.”

Bessa’s vision returned. A furious Justin Kellis glowered at them. He snarled what Bessa imagined to be curses, except in a strange language. Black smoke curled from his mouth, only to dissolve in a flash of white as the holy symbols on the cage flared.

Brison swore in astonishment, forgetting himself.

“He tricked us! It’s Justin Kellis,” Daphne continued.

Bessa was finally forced to pry the other woman’s fingers from her arm. She winced; the process cost her slivers of flesh and a small amount of blood.

To her surprise, the people weren’t nearly as frightened at the thought of an arsh’atûm or shape-shifting eidolon, so much as one disguising itself as someone they knew. Another in the crowd also recognized Justin Kellis, and his name spread like wildfire.

The vast majority of the people had no idea who he was, but Bessa expected that would change soon enough. She suspected the Star Dragons had arranged to have some of the library staff in the crowd, ensuring Kellis would be recognized.

What mattered now was that her play had suddenly gained credibility, and people would readily believe the events portrayed were plausible, even if they never heard of the Battle of Red Pointe.

Justin Kellis was unmasked.