The Truth-Teller's Tale by Sharon Shinn

you!”
    â€œCan we wait a little bit?” I asked. “To see if the actors come out? I’d like to tell him how marvelous I thought his performance was.”
    â€œI wouldn’t even dream of leaving without meeting him,” she said, sounding amused.
    Many of the rest of the audience members had the same idea, but the stands had almost emptied by the time the actors came ducking out from under the curtain. The heroine was instantly surrounded by a coterie of adoring young men; no wonder she had not seemed so moved by Edgar’s scripted professions of love. Even the older actors, who had played outrageous characters, had their share of supporters. I was willing to bet that all the young women who had lingered in the stands had done so with the sole purpose of expressing their admiration to Edgar . . . but none of them got a chance. He swept aside the curtain, vaulted over the edge of the stage, and hopped up the first two sets of steps. He came to a halt one row below us.
    â€œEleda,” he said, taking my hand and bowing over it very low. He had not even seemed to hesitate for a moment before deciding if I was the correct twin. “I’m so happy you’re here tonight! What did you think of the play?”
    â€œI thought it was very silly and very fun,” I said, laughing and pulling my hand away. “You make the most convincing hero. I imagine you have quite a following in the towns you play at on a regular basis.”
    â€œThat may be,” he said. “But more and more I find myself wishing to play for a smaller and smaller audience—the same one every night—and a most faithful audience at that.”
    Adele laughed, reminding me of her existence. I said, “Edgar, let me introduce my sister, Adele, to you. She enjoyed the play, too.”
    He bowed over her hand with as much flourish as he’d displayed to me, but he dropped her fingers instantly, whereas he had shown a disposition to cling to mine. “Thank you so much for coming to my play with your sister,” he said.
    Adele smiled. “Thank you so much for the tickets. It was quite a treat.”
    â€œI suppose you don’t often get a chance to attend the theater and watch people make fools of themselves?” he asked.
    She was smiling still. “Oh, you’d be surprised at how often people can be found playing one role or another,” she said. “And not always on the formal stage.”
    That made me raise my eyebrows, but Edgar didn’t seem to notice the barb. “What was your very favorite part?” he said, directing the question at both of us.
    â€œThe scene where the heroine hid the diary,” said the Safe-Keeper.
    â€œThe scene where the villain was unmasked,” said the Truth-Teller.
    He glanced between us, smiling again. “I don’t think, for sisters, you are very much alike,” he said.
    â€œBut we are closer than most people realize,” Adele said.
    â€œWill you be able to come back sometime in the next three weeks?” Edgar asked. “We have two more plays in our repertoire even before we open Killed by a Kiss . You could come see them all.”
    I wanted to, of course. But it would not be such an easy thing to do. “Oh—I don’t know,” I said. “There’s so much to do to prepare for Summermoon! It’s a very rare night our parents can spare both of us together.”
    â€œThen come by yourself,” Edgar said.
    I laughed. “I don’t think that’s likely to happen.”
    â€œI’ll give you passes,” he pressed. “Good for any night. Come whenever you like.”
    â€œWe’ll see,” I said.
    I could have stood there for hours listening to him beg for my attendance, but just then a man swept the curtain back and called out. “Edgar! Someone back here looking for you! Says it’s important.”
    Edgar spread his hands dramatically as if conceding