Shadowmasque Read Online Free Page B

and the torture of other monks in Casall…..then she shifted her attention to the head tapsman as he told one of the serving girls to point out a trouble-making customer…..then managed to overhear the short luck prayers that the dicethrowers were muttering under their breath before making a play….
    Tashil relaxed, knowing that further temptation might lead to using the Lesser Power itself, and that would be foolhardy.
    “You never know who might be listening,” her old mentor Tregaylis once told her. “Being a Watcher means resisting the urge to use the Godriver in unwise situations. It also means being able to recognise such situations…”
    It also means learning how to wait,
she thought wryly. Passing time while waiting for others invariably led to eavesdropping as a way of relieving the boredom, just as she was doing with the argument taking place in the corner behind her. Three maskless scholars from a northbank college were exchanging drolleries and retorts with a group of well-dressed students from the Imperial Academy. As a veil for her Watcher activities in Sejeend, she managed a small shop selling books, parchment, inks and stones, and recognised the three scholars from past custom, while the Academy student she knew not at all. The argument had opened with general insults concering each others’ institutions and style of attire, then moved on to more erudite matters. The Academy students, it transpired, were dramaturgic seminarists and cast members of the Imperial Academy’s annual production.
    “I see,” said one of the scholars, a handsome, golden-haired youth she remembered as Brondareg. “Then I imagine that you would have everything hired for you, theatre, stagehands, costumes — and audience!”
    There was a chorus of guffaws at this barb and Tashil edged round to gain a better view.
    “You betray your ignorance with such low wit, ser,” came back one of the Academy students, whose mask was a silvery affair decorated with eagle motifs. “Anyone of consequence would know that Academy plays are always well-attended. Why, last year’s production of ‘The Great House Of Hallebron’ drew a full house every night.”
    Entirely true,
Tashil thought.
But since it was also sponsored directly by the crown, it would have been practically treasonous for any of Magramon’s court nobles to not go and see it.
    Brondareg nodded judiciously. “Hmm — ‘Great House….’ is a good enough play…”
    “Whereas its sequel is by far superior,” added one of his two companions, a short stocky young man in a threadbare brown doublet, whose name escaped her. “But ‘The Fall Of The House Of Hallebron’ is far too provocative for these times…”
    Another of the Academy students, his bronze and jet mask decorated with wolves, shook his head. “From your shabby demeanour and sneering tone I would place you as apprentice scoffers, or would-be pedantic tutors!”
    Brondareg turned to his friend. “Why Ghensh — this fine fellow seems to have heard of us!”
    Then the two scholars gave exaggerated, hand-fluttering bows to their accuser, provoking more laughter from the onlookers. Meanwhile, their third companion said nothing, just lay slumped forward on their long narrow table, head resting on a couple of leather-bound books around which his arms were wrapped.
    “Guilty as charged, good ser,” said Brondareg. “Perhaps you could enlighten our meagre souls by telling us which work is the object of your Academy’s ambitions this year?”
    “‘The Twilight Emperor’,” was the lofty reply.
    At which the third scholar sat bolt upright, a dark-haired young woman who glared across at the haughty Academy boys as they lounged against their own table.
    “That overheated, bombastic muddle by Drusarik?” she said. “Surely not…”
    Tashil grinned — the girl was Viorne and she was half-Mogaun, just like Tashil.
    “You should keep a civil tongue in your head,” snapped the eagle-masked student.