'I called upon High Loremaster Yannathar,' explained Thamalon. 'His acolytes cast divinations at once. Nothing.'
'I knew that old woman was a wizard,' said Tal, 'or maybe a priest. She must have hidden me from magic.'
'We'll find her,' asserted Thamalon. 'Then we'll have the truth of it.'
'She mentioned a name-Dhauna Myritar.'
'Hmm.' Thamalon tapped his chin with a forefinger as he considered the name, momentarily distracted from the game. 'That has a certain familiar echo.' Snapping out of his reverie, he resumed his attack on Tal's chess pieces. 'Continue.'
Tal resumed his tale, eventually coming to the point when he ordered Eckart to return his belongings to the tallhouse.
'By no means!' snapped Thamalon. 'You're to stay in Stormweather until this business is sorted out.'
'Check,' said Talbot.
'What?' Thamalon observed the board. He had captured one of his son's knights and two of his pawns at the cost of only three of his own pawns. What he hadn't realized was how badly he had exposed his king's flank in the process. Fortunately for him, it was not a fatal check, and he moved quickly to block it with a protected bishop.
'I'll be staying in the tallhouse,' said Tal. 'I didn't come home rescued by your men-but thanks for sending them.'
Thamalon's jaw tightened, but he controlled his voice as he replied, 'Son, it's foolishness to leave yourself exposed after such an obvious attempt.'
'Who knows that it was aimed at me? There were ten other sons of equally wealthy families-'
'Not quite as wealthy,' interjected Thamalon. 'And not my sons.'
'Father,' said Tal evenly. 'I'm not moving back into Stormweather.'
'I can stop paying your rent,' warned Thamalon.
'Yes, and you can cut off my stipend, too. I'll move in with Chaney and start taking my shares at the theater.'
'You'll do no such thing!' roared Thamalon. Tal had to suppress a smile at the thought that he'd been acting his father's part just a few hours earlier. Had he looked so furious to Eckart? 'That wastrel is the worst possible influence-'
'Check,' said Tal, meeting his father's angry gaze. He wasn't even sure it was true until Thamalon looked down at the board and scowled.
'Speaking of Chaney,' said Tal, trying not to sound curt and failing, 'he's probably looking for me right now. It's good to see you again. Thanks for looking for me. I'll visit soon.' He stood before he could lose his courage, but he faltered as he reached for the door and heard his father's voice.
'Tal,' said Thamalon. He almost never contracted Tal's name. 'I want only the best for you, my boy. I just wish you could be-'
'More like you,' said Tal with a rueful smile, finishing the unspoken refrain of their relationship. He opened the door and stepped through.
'You don't have to be exactly like me,' said Thamalon as the door closed. 'Just be something. Just do something. Make something of yourself.'
'I will, one day,' promised Tal from the other side of the door. 'You'll see.'
Chaney was sleeping so soundly at his own flat that Tal left him alone. He knew Eckart would still be busily supervising the return of the household furnishings rather than risk Tal's wrath. While the servant was no Erevis Cale, Tal noted with amusement and a little guilt that he'd put the fear of Thamalon the Elder into the man. If he could imitate the bearing as well as the voice, perhaps he could persuade Mistress Quickly to cast him as something other than a soldier in her next production.
Thoughts of the theater reminded Tal that the troupe probably had not yet heard of his return. Today's last show had begun over an hour earlier, but there was still time to visit before the play's end.
Outside, Tal looked up and down the street for his father's guards. He smiled as he spotted the corner of a blue cloak whipping back into a nearby alley. Sometimes he'd play a game with his father's paid men, darting into an alley or using the back door of a tavern to slip away from them. Considering his recent ordeal, he didn't mind a few guards tonight.
Tal cupped a hand beside his mouth and cried, 'I'm going to the theater!' One of the family guards poked his head back around the corner. He touched the brim of his helm with an expression composed of equal parts guilt and gratitude. Tal returned the courtesy by not looking back over his shoulder at each corner.
The Wide Realms was a simple open-sky theater in the round, with a few permanent enchantments in place to keep out the rain and cold. Mistress Quickly had invested a fortune in constructing the building with such conveniences, so none of the troupe complained of her generous shares in each production. She had even paid to lift an expensive enchantment she'd commissioned to mute the audience. Rather than improve the actors' concentration, it had made them constantly nervous that they weren't evoking sufficient laughter, sobs, or-most importantly-applause.
Tal knew by the hour that tonight's show was nearly over, so he went directly to the stage entrance. He had to repeat the company rap three times before the door opened, seemingly by itself. Beyond, Tal saw the familiar chaos of rigging and storage.
'Tal!' cried a high, whispery voice at his feet. A tiny green creature with bright feline eyes clambered up the front of his clothes and clutched affectionately at his hair.
'Lommy!' exclaimed Tal. When the little tasloi wasn't capering about on stage as a clown, he was usually up in the rafters, operating the mechanicals with his brother, Otter. Tal gave the minuscule creature a gentle hug before trying to peel him off. Lommy refused to budge, pressing his long, flat forehead against Tal's cheek. Tal had never seen the intimate gesture extended to anyone but Otter or Mistress Quickly, the tasloi's adoptive mother.
If Tal had stretched Lommy straight out, the tasloi would measure little more than two feet tall. He looked even smaller when loping across the floor or swinging through the rigging, his fine black hair forming a wake behind him. More often than not, both Lommy and Otter were invisible to the casual observer, lurking in the upper shadows.
'Lommy is very happy,' whispered the tasloi. 'Lommy was afraid Tal died, but Otter said Tal would come back.'
'Tal is happy Otter was right,' grinned Tal. The tasloi indifference to pronouns was infections among the actors, and the creatures often bore the curses of actors who flubbed their lines after chatting with one of them. Tal was half certain the idiosyncrasy was not a cultural trait but one cultivated by Mistress Quickly for exotic effect.
'Shh!' warned an actor standing near one of the stage entrances. Then the young woman recognized Tal and threw him a friendly wave. With Lommy perched happily on his shoulder, Tal joined her at the curtain, where they watched the final scenes of the play.
Mallion Dray had taken the part Tal would have had if he hadn't disappeared. As the hotheaded son of an unlawful king, he was about to meet his doom at the hands of the rightful prince, played by Sivana Alasper, a woman of such androgynous beauty that she often took the role of young men. Such gender trading was a hallmark of Mistress Quickly's troupe, and she often composed comedies based on the old trick.
As the hero, Sivana stood before the company's prized prop, an enspelled long sword with the conveniently theatrical powers of producing light, flame, or a variety of thrilling sounds upon command. As Tal watched, Sivana grasped the weapon and spoke a line in which the command syllables were carefully hidden. The weapon blazed with blue light, proving the young hero's claim to the throne.
Tal had choreographed the fight scene months ago, eagerly anticipating the chance to play the dark prince. He tried not to feel jealous as Mallion leaped to the attack with the aid of a springboard hidden behind a small pile of artificial stones. The slender actor flew gracefully over the shoulder of his opponent, landing behind her to strike the first blow.
The fight varied from Tal's original design here and there, usually to take advantage of Mallion's lighter build.
