The Summer Players (working title)

Forthcoming from Spectra in 2011.

 

“My lord, it’s said that there is no way to cheat at bakshi, so I can only assume you are using magic,” Duke Koris growled as Seregil slapped down one of his carnelian pieces and captured the Duke’s spear.

The Three Dragons gambling house stood a few doors down from the Drake and was even more opulent, attracting a clientele made up of higher ranking nobles. It was only by Reltheus’ invitation that Seregil and Alec were here at all. Seregil’s reputation was well known in the Street of Lights, however, and quite a crowd had gathered around the bakshi table to see him pitted against Koris, a young rake with a reputation of his own, one that had gotten him banned from several of the brothels here in the Street, including Eirual’s, as it happened. Seregil was enjoying besting the man very much.

“No magic, your grace, just Illior’s luck,” Alec drawled, leaning on the back of Seregil’s chair.

“I’ve played him enough myself to agree, Koris,” Reltheus told the man. “He’s just damn good, and lucky.”

“It’s all right,” Seregil said, sliding another carnelian piece into place in front of Koris’s lapis one to blunt the spear. Picking up the captured stones one by one, he glanced up at the duke with a cold smile. “I’m sure his Grace wasn’t impugning my honor.”

The duke, however, was drunk and not put off by the veiled threat. Lord Seregil was better known for avoiding duels than fighting them. “Six rounds in a row? You must have a charm on you somewhere!”

A murmur went through the crowd; it was a serious charge.

Seregil leaned back in his chair and spread his arms. “Search me, your grace. I swear by Illior you’ll find nothing of the sort.” He looked around at the crowd with the slightly inane grin he affected when dealing with situations like this among the nobles. “Why, the rest of you can wager on it, but I say your money is best laid on me!”

“Yes, have him strip!” one of the ladies cried, holding up her silk purse, and the cry was quickly taken up by the crowd.

Koris’s smile was mean. “Yes, I’ll take that wager. Fifty gold sesters says he has a luck piece or mark on him. What say you, Lord Seregil? Will you stand by your offer?”

“I suppose I must,” Seregil said with a shrug.

“But how will we know it?” an older noble demanded. “A charm could be anything. Is there a wizard here?”

“Here’s one!” someone at the back of the crowd shouted.

Old Reneus, one of the senior Orëska wizards, was none too pleased to be pressed into service for such a menial task, but with some cajoling and a fresh cup of wine he finally consented.

“Now you’ve done it,” Alec muttered as Seregil handed him his sword belt and pulled off his boots and socks.

The wizard took each one with evident distaste and quickly handed them back. “No magic here.”

“Better than a duel,” Seregil whispered back, then climbed up onto his chair so everyone had a good view of him. “Really, your Grace, you’re throwing your money away.” He slipped off his coat and dropped it into Alec’s waiting arms. The wizard took it and searched through the pockets. Seregil pulled off his shirt and tossed it to the man.

“There, you see? Nothing,” said Seregil, turning for the crowd to inspect his lean, bare torso.

Koris smirked up at him. “There are still places to hide something. Keep going.”

“Perhaps he has it hanging from his cock!” one wag suggested loudly.

“I’d like to see that,” the woman who’d placed the first bet concurred. “Come on now, Lord Seregil. Out with it!”

One thing Seregil had never managed to master was blushing at will, but he made a good job of looking comically outraged. “You’re not serious? Really now, your Grace, I’ve left those days behind me.”

“A wager is a wager, my lord, unless you’d rather settle this on the plain?” said Koris.

“I’m afraid he’s within his rights, Seregil,” Reltheus reminded him.

Dueling was not allowed with the city, but a blind eye was turned on whatever went on outside its walls and killing someone in a formal duel was not considered murder. It had been some time since Seregil had fought for his honor.

“Very well, then.” He unlaced his leather trousers and pushed them and his linen down with a graceful flourish. The crowd exploded in applause and laughter. Those closest to Alec slapped him on the back. Seregil climbed off the chair and stood grinning, hands on hips, as his trousers were inspected, then took them back and dressed as carefully as if he was in front of his looking glass at home, smoothing out every wrinkle. Money was changing hands around him and it was clear that public sentiment was on his side, for whatever reason.

Taking his place again, he raised his chin and grinned across the gaming table at his opponent. “Shall we continue, your grace?”

More applause erupted at the duke’s expense.

Caught, Koris had no choice but to finish—and lose—the game. With gritted teeth his paid off the wager, swept his stones back into their fancy embroidered bag, and strode off with all the dignity he could muster.

Seregil looked around at his admirers. “Next?”

The woman who’d championed the wager took the chair Koris had vacated and poured her stones into the polished tray in front of her. They were made of blue opal, and she held one up, showing him Illior’s crescent inlaid in silver on the back of it. “The Lightbringer will have to decide between us, my lord, for I’ve been known to have the Immortal’s favor, as well. Or would you like to inspect my clothing for charms first?”

“A tempting offer, Marquise, but your honor is above reproach.”

“You’re very gallant, Lord Seregil, but now I’m disappointed,” she said with a teasing smile. “Well, you had your chance. Shall we play?”

They were still arranging their stones for the first round when a young page made his way through the crowd and whispered something to Alec. He, in turn, leaned down and whispered in Seregil’s ear, “We have to go.”

Seregil quickly made his apologies to the disappointed noblewoman and the crowd and scooped up his stones.

“What is it?” he asked as they hurried out.

“I don’t know, but it must be important. Kepi’s outside, asking for us, and he wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t important, would he?”

“Most likely not.”

They found the boy waiting for them on the pavement, under the watchful eye of the doorman, who clearly disapproved of such an unsightly character on the Street.

Seregil and Alec hustled him quickly out of sight into the shadows beyond the reach of the street lanterns.

“What is it?” Seregil demanded.

“That actor fellow, Atre the Mycenian? He’s a friend of yours, ain’t he?”

“How in the world did you know that?”

Kepi just winked and grinned.

“Yes, he’s a friend of ours. What of it?”

“Well, he got hisself knifed tonight.”

“Bilairy’s balls! Where?” asked Seregil.

“Down at the waterfront, back of the Skulpin. I just heard of it and I come straight up to tell you. Your man at the house told me were you was.”

“The Skulpin?” said Alec. “What was he doing down there?” The gambling house was just outside of the respectable commerce district of the Lower City, and catered mostly to locals and sea faring men. There were plenty of cutpurses, bawds, and footpads about at this time of night, ready to relieve the unwary of their winnings.

“Is he alive?”

“He was when my friend heard about it. I went to your house and they told me you were here. I came straight on.”

“Good lad.” Seregil took half a dozen coppers from his purse and gave them to the boy. Kepi made him another ill-formed bow and took off at a run, darting between horses and carriages. He was soon out of sight among the evening crowd.

 

***

 

They made most of the long ride down to the Lower City at a gallop and found the actor still alive and groaning on a couch in an poorly lit back room of the gambling den. He was dressed uncharacteristically plainly without a jewel on him—an apparent attempt to fit in with his surroundings, perhaps, or he’d been robbed.

A small crowd of ne’er do wells and doxies were peering in from the doorway, but parted for Alec and Seregil, who had come armed.

A drysian was with Atre, tending to a wound on his belly. The actor was white-faced and looked frightened, but at least he was conscious.

“What happened?” Seregil asked, kneeling down beside him and taking the man’s hand.

“Oh, my lords!” Atre gasped, clinging to Seregil’s hand with both of his, which were sticky with blood. “How did you know?”

“Never mind that. What in Bilairy’s name happened to you?”

“It was a girl. She said she was hurt, and when I tried to help her—look what she did!”

“It’s not as bad as all that,” the drysian scoffed as he began to bandage the wound. “Hardly more than a scratch!”

“And took your purse, I suppose,” said Alec. It was a common ploy among the girl cutpurses. “What are you doing alone in a place like this?”

“Oh, you know—” Atre was too pale to blush but he looked rather ashamed of himself.

Seregil gave him a knowing look.

“Got tired of the pampered nobles and came back here, looking for a bit of rougher fun?” Brader growled as he strode into the room and stood over Atre. Apparently he’d gotten word, as well.

The actor looked away, saying nothing.

“This is no place for the likes of you,” the drysian scolded. “Stay up on your heights and find your fun there. I have better things to do than patch up you silly thrill seekers.”

“I will, Brother. By the Maker, I will!” Atre mumbled, then looked up imploringly at Seregil. “Please, my lord, don’t leave me here!”

“Of course not,” Seregil assured him, then turned to Alec. “Go ask the master of the house to hire us a carriage, will you?”

“No need,” said Brader. “Teibo is coming with the cart.”

The drysian finished with the bandage and straightened up. “There, that should hold your guts in well enough. See that you keep the wound clean and it should be healed in a week or so, if a bit sore.”

“I have to be on stage tomorrow!”

“That’s why you have an understudy,” Brader said, handing the healer some silver.

The drysian nodded to them and took his leave.

“Oh, Calieus will be pleased!” the young actor groaned. He’d only recently taken on the young Skalan actor. “He hangs over me like a carrion crow, just waiting for something like this to happen.”

Seregil chuckled. “It’s his job, isn’t it? And I really don’t think you can blame this on your understudy.” He washed his hands with the water left in the pitcher the healer had used and stood up. “Honestly, if you’d wanted to come someplace like this, you should have asked us. We’d have come with you, and kept you out of trouble like this.”

“Very kind of you, my lord, but I think my friend here should take the healer’s advice,” Brader said.

Just then they heard the clatter of a cart arriving. Brader lifted Atre in his arms as if he weighed no more than a child and carried him out. Old Zell had come with the boy and clucked his tongue as Brader placed the wounded man on some folded blankets in the back of the cart.

“Really, I think a carriage would be more comfortable,” said Seregil. “I’ll happily pay.”

“No need, my lord,” Brader said gruffly. “With respect, we take care of our own.” He climbed in beside Atre and Teibo snapped the reins over the glossy white mare’s back and set off.

“That was a bit rude!” Alec muttered. “We might just as well have stayed at the gambling house.”

“Strange sort of place for anyone who loves luxury as much as our actor friend to turn up, don’t you think?” asked Seregil.

“You think he was lying about why he was down here?”

“Perhaps not, but does Atre strike you as the sort of man who would stop to help a street urchin on a dark street?”

“Not really.”

Seregil gazed thoughtfully after the cart.

“So long as we’re down here, I’d like to look in at that temple and see if that boy is still there,” said Alec, glad to see that their horses hadn’t been stolen while they were inside.

“At this hour?”

“A temple doesn’t close. At least not a Dalnan one. You can go home if you want. I won’t be long.”

Seregil swung up into the saddle and gathered Cynril’s reins. “Then I might as well tag along.”

They hadn’t gone far when Alec said softly, “Did you enjoy your performance back there at the Three Dragons?”

“My amazing winning streak, you mean?” Seregil said with a wink.

“No.”

“Ah, the stripping naked in front of a hundred or so noblemen and women part of the evening. ‘Enjoy’ isn’t the word I’d use, but it was satisfyingly useful.”

“Useful!”

“Talí, before I met you, Lord Seregil was known for things like that. Well, not usually in such a public place, perhaps—”

“Perhaps?” Alec raised a skeptical eyebrow at that.

“At parties, mostly.”

“So you did that a lot?”

“Now and then, just to keep up my reputation. Mostly it was things like getting other young nobles into trouble stealing things like public statues or bluecoats’ horses while we were drunk, slumming in borrowed clothes, or daring each other to jump off Widow’s Cliff into the sea. You should try that. Very invigorating—if you live.”

That won him a smile and a soft laugh. “And carrying on with actors, I suppose.”

“Oh, yes. And actresses.”

“Am I bad for your reputation, now that we’re spending so much time back in the city?”

Seregil laughed. “I’d say we dispelled any rumors of that tonight, wouldn’t you? I was lucky, though.”

“You did win a lot of money.”

“Yes, but I was thinking more of Koris’s search of my person.”

Alec laughed. “What was so lucky about that? He had you standing naked on a chair.”

Seregil winked at him as they passed through the glow of a street lantern. “Yes, but his search stopped short of the most obvious hiding place.”

“The most—?” Alec gave him a questioning look, then realization dawned and it was replaced by one of shock. “Bilairy’s balls, Seregil!”

“Close.” Seregil grinned. He loved still being able to make Alec blush.