Casket of Souls

A gift, no doubt. The hole through his earlobe was an old one, well healed, so he wasn’t new to such adornments, or to such gatherings as these, either, if his manner was anything to go by.
    “Who was your patron in Nanta, Master Atre?” he asked at last.
    “The lord mayor and his wife, my lord,” Atre replied with obvious pride. In Mycena that was the equivalent of nobility. “Alas, I don’t know if they are alive or dead now, after the siege on the city last fall that drove my little company westward.”
    “Tell the tale of how you and your players came to Rhíminee, won’t you?” Kylith urged.
    “We began our escape from Mycena on foot, after several of our members were killed,” Atre replied. “It was a dreadful journey. Finally we took ship in Nysana and reached Cirna just before your Mourning Night. We earned enough there in the streets to buy passage here early this spring. We began in the marketplaces, adding to our meager savings, and managed to scrape together enough to rent the theater in Basket Street where, most fortuitously you, dear lady, found us. And you, my lords.”
    Seregil raised his wine cup. “To those in whom the flame of art burns brightest!”
    The rest joined him in the toast. Alec was impressed to see tears glitter in the actor’s eyes as he humbly accepted the praise.
    “I must say, I am delighted with your success,” said Seregil.
    “Tell me more about yourselves,” said Kylith, nodding to Brader, who had been largely silent. “How did you and your lovely wife meet?”
    “Father, Mother, and I were with a company of traveling players,” Merina told her. “Atre and Brader joined us at Rudderford in Mycena. Do you know it? No? It’s in northern Mycena, almost to the freeholdings.”
    “What were you doing all the way up there, Brader?” asked Alec, trying to get the taciturn man to speak for himself.
    But it was Atre who answered. “We are northerners ourselves, Lord Alec. We’d established a small company in Dresher’s Ford, but a plague struck the town and carried off most of our players. Brader and I took to the road to seek our fortunes elsewhere, and ran across Zell and his company in the process. They invited us to join them.”
    “And as you can imagine, Atre soon took over,” old Zell said with a laugh. “Our own principal actor took issue with that and dissolved the company. We threw in with Atre and Brader and headed south to seek better fortunes. And along the way, Brader stole my girl’s heart. No woman could ask for a better husband, either.”
    Brader smiled with a warmth Alec hadn’t suspected the man capable of. “And no man could have a better wife.”
    “And such talented children,” Kylith added. “I’ve enjoyed their antics in the comedies, and Van died very well tonight! We all wept, didn’t we, Alec?”
    “No higher praise than that,” Brader said, warming more at the mention of his children. “They’ve been onstage all their lives. They don’t know any other life.”
    “But you’ve been unlucky in finding a home, it seems,” Seregil noted. “First plague, then the attack on Nanta.”
    “And a few troubles in between,” said Leea.
    “But our luck has changed for the better in Rhíminee,” said Atre, saluting his patrons with his wine cup. “I hope to stay here for a very long time.”
    “I’ll drink to that!” said Seregil.

 
    S EREGIL and Alec’s fortunes continued to improve when they received an invitation in the archduchess’s own hand, asking them to join her salon the following evening. Seregil, in turn, sent a message to Atre. The actor appeared at their door the next day, dressed nearly as splendidly as they were.
    “Sorry to pull you away from your work,” said Seregil as they set off on horseback, but only out of politeness. “I suppose you had to cancel the show?”
    “Oh, no,” Atre assured him blithely. The man had hired a glossy black gelding for the evening and rode well. “We have a few plays in our repertoire that don’t include me. My understudy, Calieus, and young Teibo have center stage tonight. But of course, I would have come, even if it meant canceling a performance. I’m delighted to repay your generosity in such a small way.”
    “And I’m delighted that you are a man of your word,” Seregil replied.
    A damp, salt-laden breeze blew up from the harbor as they rode through the well-lit streets of the Noble Quarter to the grandest part bordering Silvermoon Street.
    Alaya’s