~* ~
(THE EMPEROR drops the lifeless body, takes a paper towel, and daintily wipes a spot of blood from the back of his hand. Then he turns and looks at what he can see of his reflection in the broken glass.)
THE EMPEROR
(In his own voice) 'You've returned too early, Frederick.' No. Not quite it. Let me see… (In Wallace Drummond's voice) 'You've returned too early, Frederick.' (He smiles in satisfaction.) Much more like it.
CURT
(On squawk box) Five minutes, Drummy.
THE EMPEROR
(Holds the button and speaks in Drummond's voice) Thank you, Curt. I'll be there. (He releases the button, then takes Wallace Drummond's saber from the dressing table and draws it from its scabbard. He goes into the en garde stance, and thrusts it into what is left of the mirror. The glass breaks and rains down on the body of Wallace Drummond, as THE EMPEROR salutes .)
Scene 11
The last scene. The last time he would appear on stage.
The last chance.
Dennis Hamilton stood in the stage right wings, clutched the hilt of his saber, and waited for the music to end, for the darkness to come, that deep smothering darkness of a black stage, relieved only by the scantiest exit lights, that darkness in which the chorus would scurry off stage, Dan Marks would come past him and around onto the stage again, Wallace Drummond would ascend to the center stage balcony from which the disguised Kronstein would lie to the people…
Lie to the people.
It was, Dennis thought, all he had ever done, and now, when he wanted to show the truth, he was unable.
And he knew why. The Emperor. The Emperor was there somewhere, hiding, but able all the same to draw his strength, his emotions.
'Where are you?' he whispered into the darkness that suddenly surrounded him. 'Where are you?' he said again, with as much bitterness as he could summon.
Bodies moved past him, brushed against his, and he closed his eyes, waiting for the human flood to ebb, for the lights to come up, waited for his final entrance.
Why did the Emperor not show himself? Was he scared?
Scared. That was absurd, wasn't it? Scared of Dennis? Scared of a man who could not even feel anger for having his soul stolen away?
The lights came up, the scene went on, Kruger telling Kronstein of his triumph with the mob. '`They're hungry for a wedding,'' Dan Marks said, '`absolutely starving for one!''
''Then,'' Dennis heard Wallace Drummond's voice proclaim, '`we shall give them one.''
It was Dennis's cue, and he strode on stage, glanced up toward where Kronstein was supposed to be standing, but his energy level was so low that he could scarcely lift his head that high. Somehow he got out his line, '`What in God's name are you about?''The delivery was pitiful.
Still, Marks gave his reply. '`About to announce your future, your majesty.'“
“You've returned… just in time, Frederick,' said the voice of Wallace Drummond.
''Just in time?' Oh shit,' whispered Curt Wynn, high overhead in the control booth, to the electrician running the light board. 'Now Drummond's going up on his fucking lines. This show ends without a major disaster, it'll be a miracle.'
Dennis knew the line was wrong, but did not have the presence of mind to tailor his response to the error. ''And you've gone too far, Kronstein.'' The words came out automatically. ''Get away from that balcony.''
Kronstein's next line was Stop him, Kruger. Don't harm him, but stop him. But that was not what came out.
'Get through Kruger, my friend. And then I'll deal with you,' said Wallace Drummond's voice.
'Kronstein mustn't like the show,' whispered Cissy Morrison to Evan. 'He's rewriting it.'
Dan Marks had given his last line, and all that was on his mind now was how to get off the damned stage as quickly as possible. The way Dennis Hamilton was acting, Marks didn't trust him to do any of the moves that Quentin had choreographed, and the saber points and edges were sharp enough to hurt if someone made a wrong move.
Marks carried Dennis through the duel, and easily saw that he was in no condition to administer the final thrust. If Marks was to die, it would have to be offstage. To perish in agony from the kind of halfhearted swipes Dennis was making would bring forth nothing but hoots of laughter from the audience. And to lie supposedly dead on the stage, even if behind a divan, for the rest of the scene would be true agony.
So, thinking more of himself than of the intended impact of the duel's climax, he began to back up stage right, as if forced to do so by Dennis, who had no choice but to follow him, as if pressing him into the stage right wings. When he was out of the audience's sight lines, he said sharply to Dennis, 'Now lunge!'
Dennis did as he was ordered, with more force than Marks had expected. Perhaps the surprise and spontaneity of Marks's moves and command had touched something within Dennis. At any rate, Marks thought the movement would read well from the audience, gave a strangled cry, turned, and walked back toward the backstage coffee machine, wishing that it was a whiskey machine instead. If there was actually a curtain call after this fiasco, he decided he would not join in.
Dennis Hamilton did not know what to do. He wanted nothing more than to leave the stage himself as Dan Marks had done, to go back and sit in his dressing room and forget about everything else, just go back and lie down and sleep a dreamless sleep.
But he remembered that there was still an audience out there, still a show that needed to be finished. He needed to duel with Wallace Drummond, he needed to give a final speech, sing a final song to end this dull nightmare. As he hung there, suspended on his doubts and responsibilities halfway between the stage and the wings, he heard a voice calling him from the stage.
'Come back, your majesty,' it said. 'You don't escape as easily as that.'
He knew that the voice was not Wallace Drummond's, but it seemed chillingly familiar just the same. When he turned and looked at the man wearing Drummond's costume, a perfect match for his own, he knew why. He knew as soon as he saw the face with a real beard and not crepe hair, saw the eyes that he had seen before only in the mirror or in the mirror image face of…
The Emperor.
'What the hell. ' Curt said, adjusting his headset. 'Did Dennis give that line?' The electrician shrugged.
THE EMPEROR
I'm here, Dennis. You knew I would be.
DENNIS
I hear you, but you're not speaking.
THE EMPEROR
Now we speak as fast as thought, with no tongues nor lips to slow us. While those who watch us try to rise, we may speak volumes. And why not? Are not our minds one? Am I not the character, you the actor? Prove it, Dennis… give a line. Give a line.
''Move away from the balcony… Now!''
The power of his delivery amazed Dennis, and he felt an unexpected surge run through him. The Emperor's face seemed to quiver for the slimmest part of a instant, and Dennis spoke again.
'` I'm giving the orders… Kronstein.''
THE EMPEROR
