Fanuilh by Daniel Hood (ebook reader with highlight function TXT) 📗

stay clear of Rora. Any fancies you have on her she's sure not to fill, and more like to box your ears or scratch the jelly from your eyes."

"I'll keep it in mind," Liam said, laughing at the transparency of his interest. On the other hand, he imagined that Kansallus and Rora's fellow actors must be used to men showing that kind of interest.

"I'm no wagerer, friend Rhenford, but if I were, I'd have one for you." The playwright was looking at him with friendly appraisal.

"What?"

"I'd wager—though I'm neither snooper nor gossip— I'd wager that whatever else brought you to the Orb this afternoon revolved 'round a certain rich merchant's wife." Kansallus was indeed the man he should have talked to when he first began investigating.

"And you might have won, had you phrased the bet properly. She was not the focus of the business, but a part of it."

The playwright nodded judiciously. "Lons is an arrogant, silly ass. He deserves to have panted after her, puppylike, for the whole summer. Strange, now, isn't it, that Lons, handsome piece of work that he is, should have such trouble getting what he wants, while his sister has so little getting what she doesn't?"

Liam agreed, and bent forward at the playwright's beckoning finger.

"Though there are some," he whispered furtively, "knaves and caitiffs all, mind, but some nonetheless, who say that Rora may get that trouble she wants, but only from a certain individual troubler." He nodded again and leaned back, finishing his tankard with an air of having imparted a great secret.

"And that troubler?"

Kansallus shook his head and sighed regretfully. "A cypher, a mystery, an unknown quantity of indistinct parts. None of the caitiffs and knaves and vicious gossips who say it can warrant it, and I'm of a mind t'ignore it, but there you are—it's been bruited about."

"I see." He rose to go, and dropped a handful of coins on the table. "It's been fascinating, friend Kansallus, if disappointing as regards a certain dancer. I think there's enough there for another few tankards, if you don't have to go back to the theater."

"I don't, bless you," the playwright said with a broad smile. "And for it, I'll tell you this—have ever seen Knave Fitch scratch at's ear while on the boards?"

"No," Liam admitted. He decided not to mention that he had only seen the clown three times, one of them within the last few minutes.

"Well, he does, from time to time, and the common run think it a pose of comic thought, but's not." Kansallus paused and smiled secretly. "It's a scar he's scratching from the teeth of a maid."

"Rora," Liam supplied, and was rewarded with a firm nod.

"I know, to look at, Fitch's no rake—but he's a fair number of maids under's belt, and we all at th'Orb give him first crack at any wench. So it chanced when Rora was newly with us as a dancer out of some house on the Point and on her brother's vouching, we stood back and let Fitch go to work. The very next day he appears with a bandaged head, and tells us all she's a hellcat for her virtue, and to stay away. So, that's the dancer—and my warning. Go for tamer flesh."

"I'll bear it in mind. Now I must go."

"Say, friend Liam," Kansallus stopped him again, "one last. I note a writing case at your side. Y'are not, by chance, a scripter as I am?"

"No," Liam answered, looking curiously down at the playwright. "Only sometimes a scholar."

"Excellent news," Kansallus said, the smile deepening. "There's enough of scribblers 'round the Orb, and I'd hate to find this meal a sop for your taking away my livelihood."

Still laughing, Liam made his way through the darkened streets, guided only by the stars and the occasional torch. Kansallus made an excellent source of information, as well as an interesting companion. Not that Coeccias was a bad sort, but he lacked the playwright's good-natured but malicious tongue.

The night was cold, even colder after the warmth of the inn, and he had to fight now against the freshening sea breeze. The doors to the Golden Orb were still open, but he passed them by, wondering what Rora was doing with her evening off.

Sounds were few and far between, the streets empty, and he started once at what he thought was the sound of feet behind him. Then he heard the coo of a pigeon and the flap of wings and smiled with relief. Coeccias might not be very good at searching out murderers, but in four months of frequent night walks he had never been accosted, and that reflected well on the Aedile. The streets were clear of the common run of villains, if private houses weren't safe from the uncommon run.

Nonetheless, he found himself looking over his shoulder more than usual, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched. Try as he might, he was on edge for the length of his walk, and reached the stables with· a genuine feeling of relief.

The boy let him stand inside, out of the cold, while his mount was saddled. Once on Diamond, he felt better, and, trotted quickly out of the city towards Tarquin's house on the beach.

My house on the beach, he reminded himself, and smiled at the thought.

Chapter 10

ONCE AGAIN THE house was lit before he arrived, and the warm yellow light spilling from its windows helped him find his way down the narrow path in the moonless night. The surf was unseen but loud, crashing in the blackness like the shouting of giants. He tethered Diamond in the small shed, apologizing for the cramped quarters. He thought about bringing out a blanket to keep the chill off, but noticed that the air of the shed had already grown warmer. Tarquin planned for everything, he thought, and patted the restive horse soothingly before going back to the house.

You are home earl, Fanuilh thought at him as soon as he had closed the door. Liam