Arrow (Knife) (8 page)

‘Well, now,’ came the pronouncement from below. ‘That was more like it.’ With an energy that belied her languid tone, a short, steely-haired woman leaped up from her seat and seized the girl’s hand in an approving shake. ‘Good work, Lucy. Come back tomorrow. Next!’

‘It seems you don’t need me to teach you to appreciate theatre,’ Martin murmured to Rhosmari as another human made his way onto the platform. ‘But who would have thought an honest faery like yourself would take so readily to an art built on trickery and lies?’

‘Lies?’ Rhosmari was taken aback. ‘But I thought that girl was giving a speech – an argument—’

‘Of course she was. But in doing so, she was also playing the part of a woman disguised as a man, pretending to be a lawyer in a court that never existed,’ said Martin, leaning back and lacing his fingers behind his head. ‘That was from William Shakespeare’s play
The Merchant of Venice.
’

A play. Rhosmari knew that humans sometimes put on disguises and acted out stories to amuse an audience, but she had never seen it done before. ‘That’s not a lie,’ she protested. ‘How can it be, when no one is really deceived?’

‘Ah, but they
want
to be deceived,’ Martin replied. ‘And the closer an actor comes to making them believe that the emotions he pretends are real, the better they love him for it. Watch.’ He nodded at the stage as a dark-eyed boy who moved like a candle flame stepped forward and began to speak:

‘I am a Jew. Hath not a Jew eyes? Hath not a Jew hands, organs, dimensions, senses, affections, passions…?’

By the end of his speech, Rhosmari was blinking back tears. The earnestness with which the young man delivered his lines, the pride and despair alternating upon his face, communicated his yearning for justice with a power that made her ache. When he spoke of wanting revenge on those who had wronged him, it made her uneasy – and yet she understood why he might feel that way. And when she glanced at Martin and saw how his eyes had narrowed and his hands tightened upon his knees, she realised that he too was moved and trying not to show it.

When the boy finished there was silence, tense as a held breath. Then—

‘I knew it!’ bellowed the woman in the front, spinning around to jab a finger at Martin. ‘It’s you! I should have known you were back the moment this rabble started performing like real actors. But what’s the good of having a muse who won’t stay put?’ She strode up the aisle, seized Martin and gave him a resounding kiss on both cheeks.

‘I haven’t the slightest idea what you mean,’ said Martin with dignity, scrubbing his lip-printed face.

‘No, of course he doesn’t,’ said the woman, turning to Rhosmari. ‘He only likes to hang about the smallest theatre in Cardiff because we’re cheap. As if I don’t know the
Tylwyth Teg
when I see one.’ And with that startling pronouncement she barked back over her shoulder, ‘Steven, I want you back. Tomorrow at seven.’

The boy’s face blazed with a smile. He snapped his heels together and bowed, then leaped off the platform and vanished through a door at the foot of the stage.

‘Lyn has this delightful notion that I’m some sort of faery benefactor,’ Martin told Rhosmari, so casual it made her blink. ‘I wouldn’t have thought she’d be going senile at her age, but you never know with these theatre people – ow!’ He clutched his arm where the woman had pinched him. ‘Careful, now. If you make me angry, I might put a curse on your box office receipts.’

‘They couldn’t be much worse than they are already,’ retorted Lyn. ‘Just ask Toby, he’s been weeping over the books for weeks. Why do you think we’re casting Shakespeare with spotty-faced adolescents and the cleaning woman’s second cousin? We certainly can’t afford anyone better.’ She let out a sigh. ‘But a few of them show promise, and those last two had a real gift. At least we’ll have
something
to work with this season.’ She eyed Martin critically. ‘So how long are you going to hang about? A few days? A week?’

‘It’s worse than that, I’m afraid,’ said Martin. ‘Rhosmari and I are only here for the night. Do you think you could spare us a corner?’

‘Oh, don’t tell me you’re skint again,’ said Lyn. ‘I thought your people had gold lining every pocket. You’re a very disappointing sort of faery, you know.’

‘Try Rhosmari,’ said Martin. ‘She’s a much better one.’

Lyn looked Rhosmari up and down and snorted. ‘Oh, that’s likely. All right then, both of you, come with me. I’m sure we can find a bed for you somewhere.’

‘There you go,’ said Lyn a few minutes later, flopping a mattress onto the floor of the study. ‘Sorry about the paint stink, we’re still cleaning up after the upstairs toilet flooded last week.’

‘All part of our usual charming state of chaos,’ added Toby, shoving a box under one of the desks. ‘Though I’ll get this office fixed up eventually, I promise. You never know when some random bloke and his girl will come through and want to use it as a hostel.’ But he spoke cheerfully, with a nudge at Martin’s side and a wink for Rhosmari. ‘Right, Lyn, are we done for tonight? Sure these two aren’t going to murder you in your sleep?’

‘Reasonably,’ said Lyn, in a dry tone. ‘Off you go.’

Toby grinned and kissed her cheek, then sidestepped the ladder and disappeared. Lyn stood a moment, surveying the room – the two desks heaped with papers, the glass-fronted machine displaying dizzying patterns in the corner, the mattress taking up most of the floor – and said, ‘Not exactly the Lanesborough, is it? But there’s sheets and blankets in the cupboard under the stairs, and I can at least offer you a fry-up in the morning, if you bestir yourselves around eight or so. Not that you’ll likely have a choice, with that fat lump crawling all over you,’ and she jerked her head at the still-sleeping cat.

‘Bless you, Lyn,’ said Martin, without a trace of irony; it was the closest most faeries ever came to saying
thanks
, and Rhosmari was startled to hear it. ‘We’re in your debt.’

‘That you are,’ Lyn replied. ‘I’m going upstairs to cuddle with Burbage – just knock if you need anything.’ And with that she stalked up the staircase, flicking off the corridor lights behind her.

‘Is Burbage the cat?’ asked Rhosmari, when the woman had gone.

‘Actually, I believe Burbage is her laptop computer,’ replied Martin. ‘The cat doesn’t have a name, as far as I know.’ He leaned back against the desk, hands splayed casually on the pale wood. ‘And I’ve a feeling she’s not quite sure what to make of you, either.’

Rhosmari glanced around the room, uncomfortable with his steady gaze. ‘You seem to know her quite well. I thought the Empress didn’t want her people being friendly with humans?’

‘She doesn’t,’ said Martin. ‘But even when I belonged to the Empress, just because she
could
control me didn’t mean that she always did. And I was careful not to give her reason to think she might need to, either.’ He pushed himself upright and walked out into the corridor, adding over his shoulder, ‘You’ll want some bedsheets?’

‘Yes, please,’ said Rhosmari.

Martin returned with an armful of linens, snapped out the bottom sheet and began fitting it over the mattress. It was a servant’s task, yet he did it without self-consciousness – and with an ease that suggested he’d done it many times before.

‘You still haven’t told me how you met Lyn,’ Rhosmari said, watching him. ‘How did she guess you were a faery?’

‘Lyn is remarkably perceptive that way,’ said Martin. ‘She doesn’t trust her instincts enough to admit it’s anything more than a joke, but she recognised what I was the moment I first walked into her theatre. I suspect there’s faery blood in her somewhere.’ He tucked in the top sheet and turned it down, adding, ‘She would have recognised you too, if she let herself. But you didn’t fit her idea of what a faery should look like, so she dismissed it.’

Rhosmari frowned. How could she look any more like what she was? It was true that her ancestors had come to Wales from a far-off country, so she was one of perhaps fifty faeries in all the Green Isles who did not share the bland colouring most common to the Children of Rhys. But why should that matter? She was no less magical than the others, and no less loyal to her homeland. It made no sense that anyone would compare her to Martin, and think she was not a true faery.

‘In any case, Lyn is just one of several humans I’ve come to know since I discovered theatre,’ Martin continued. ‘Most of my acquaintances are in London, where there are hundreds of acting troupes, and a play is born every minute. But whenever the Empress gave me liberty to travel, I took the chance to broaden my horizons.’ A little smile played along his lips. ‘And I have to admit that of all the theatres I’ve visited, this little place is my favourite.’

Rhosmari gazed down at the mattress, now neatly made up with sheets and blankets. ‘What I did earlier, when that girl was giving her speech…I didn’t even realise that was possible. I know our people make humans more creative just by being near them, but I could
feel
the difference. And now I wonder if I did her more harm than good.’

‘You wanted to help her,’ said Martin. ‘And you did. But the ability to deliver Portia’s speech came from within her, not you. All you did was take away her nervousness and give her a chance to prove herself. And it is intoxicating to see your power affect them, isn’t it?’ He yawned, stretching both arms above his head and arching his back so far she could see his hipbones. ‘Anyway, I’m going to sleep. Good night.’

Rhosmari tensed. Surely he didn’t mean… Of course he had made up the bed, but he couldn’t really think… And there was no way she would even consider… She would just have to tell him—

But before she could find the words, Martin turned and walked to the door. And then, with a last mocking glance over his shoulder that told her he knew exactly what she’d been thinking, he transformed himself into a tiny black and white bird and fluttered away.

‘You’ll be coming back next time you’re in Cardiff,’ said Lyn after breakfast the next morning, giving Martin a pointed look as she unlocked the front door. ‘We’re doing
Merchant
in June and
Much Ado
in August, and I’ll want to see you at both.’

‘You don’t really need me, Lyn,’ said Martin. ‘You’ve got a couple of fine young actors there, and you’ll bully the rest into genius yet. How do you know you’re not part faery yourself?’

‘Ha! With this old face? Not likely.’ She stepped outside with them, into the wan grey light. The sky was rumpled with cloud, and the breeze smelled of dust and impending rain. ‘So you’ll be all right, then? I’ve a sense you’re in some kind of trouble.’ Her eyes flicked to Rhosmari. ‘Or is it you that’s the trouble?’

‘Rhosmari is far too well-behaved to cause trouble for anyone,’ replied Martin. ‘Don’t worry, we’ll be fine.’ He touched his fingers to his forehead. ‘Peace and good fortune to you, Lyn. You won’t regret your kindness.’

The human woman gave a tight smile. ‘I’ll hold you to that.’ For one last moment her gaze lingered on Rhosmari, as though she were still not quite sure what to make of her. Then she shook her head, waved them both off, and went back inside.

By daylight, Cardiff looked more friendly to Rhosmari than it had the night before. It still felt strange to be surrounded by pavement and metal, and buildings so tall they made her feel dizzy to look at them. But here and there she glimpsed trees beginning to bud, and grassy spaces where gold and purple crocuses bloomed. And though the fumes of passing vehicles still tainted the air, there were more pleasant smells, too: the aroma of fresh bread wafting from a bakery, the dusky scent of coffee, a floral swirl of perfume as a group of young women hurried by.

‘Did you sleep well?’ Martin asked Rhosmari as they walked. ‘I did. You’d be surprised how comfortable it is to sleep as a bird, as long as you don’t have to worry about predators swooping down on you.’

‘Like the Blackwings?’ asked Rhosmari, glancing at the sky. Not that there was any point: the air was full of dark shapes, and even her faery senses could not have told a real bird from a false one at this distance.

‘I doubt they’d eat me,’ Martin said, as though he were considering the possibility. ‘Though they could certainly make my life unpleasant. But enough of that talk. We need to decide where to start looking for the rebels.’

‘You don’t think there are any here?’

‘There might be, but I don’t know of anyone specific – and even if I did, we don’t have anything to track them with.’ He stooped to peer at his reflection in a shop window, combed his hair smooth with his fingers, and straightened up again. ‘Besides, Rob was born and raised in London. I doubt he’d take his followers into Wales, not when there are still places in England left to hide.’

‘Then perhaps the rebels are in London?’

Martin appeared to consider this, but then he shook his head. ‘I think not. The Empress might have lost Sanctuary, but many of the London faeries are still under her control, and the rebels would find it hard to establish a stronghold there. I suggest we go north, to somewhere like Birmingham or even as far as Manchester. There are strong Wylds in both those places, and if Rob is looking for allies it would make sense for him to try there first.’

He obviously had no doubt that Rob had escaped the battle. Rhosmari wished she could be half as sure about Garan and the other Children of Rhys who had gone with him. Garan and Broch had both done well in the Rhysian Games, and Llinos had served in the Council Guard, but none of them had ever experienced real warfare, any more than she had.

‘And even if we don’t find the rebels themselves,’ Martin continued, ‘we may meet some sympathisers who can point us in the right direction. Or at least tell us something about them.’

Rhosmari could not argue with that. Even bad news would be better than uncertainty. ‘Then we’ll go to the Wyld that’s the farthest,’ she said. ‘If the Blackwings are still following us, it will take them longer to catch up with us there.’

‘Wisely thought,’ said Martin. ‘Manchester it is. But before we go, I have a suggestion. Take a little of your money and buy a coat, instead of that old-fashioned cloak. It will make it harder for the Blackwings to pick you out from a distance, and you will likely find it warmer as well.’