Angels, Old Gods—people believed as it suited their characters and lineages. But nobody talked about innocent children being born not so innocent at all, children born with inherent sin that they could never escape.
A swift look at Mieka and Rafe showed him that they weren’t exactly charmed by that notion, either. Jeska went on smiling slightly, nodding slightly, thoughts and feelings hidden behind his beautiful golden face.
“Plays,” concluded Ilesko, “are for showing the sin, and how it is punished, and what to do for the earning forgiveness.”
Miriuzca was looking a little desperate. Cade imitated Jeska, knowing the smile to be infinitely less effective on his infinitely less beautiful face, and said, “Our theater was once much the same, you know. Plays were made to encourage people to behave honorably towards each other, and to educate them about history, and the ways of the Lord and the Lady and Angels and Old Gods—”
“That is a very great wrongness,” Ilesko interrupted severely. “There is the Lord and there is the Lady and that is all. The other things—they do not matter. They do not exist.” He turned to his sister, who looked uncomfortable. “You are now believing these things that you should not.”
“It is the custom of Albeyn, which is now my home,” she said with simple dignity. “And in Albeyn the theater has expanded beyond plays about morality, and now a tregetour can write about anything. Is this not so, Master Silversun?”
“Your Royal Highness is perfectly correct. Theater has and indeed must move on from the traditional plays, and explore whatevery person thinks and feels. Has Your Royal Highness ever seen the Shadowshapers’ play, ‘A Life in a Day’?”
“Oh, yes!”
The more she praised it, the less her brother liked it.
Jeska explained the difficulties of having two masquers onstage at once, and how it complicated the work of the glisker and fettler; Rafe expressed himself grateful that Cade and Jeska were too much the individualists to permit more than one tregetour or more than one masquer into Touchstone’s plays, because he and Mieka had enough trouble with the pair of them as it was.
“How many masquers appear in plays on the Continent?” Rafe asked.
“For the play they perform, five.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “A learned man named Vaustas, a nobleman and his wife, and the Lord and the Lady.”
Rafe grinned across the table at Mieka. “You hear that? Five of them onstage!”
The Elf gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’m good, but nobody’s
that
good! I’d get so confused, I’d dress the nobleman in a ball gown and his wife in full armor!”
“The Lord would have long blond curls and a feathered fan,” Cade said deliberately, unsurprised to see the Tregrefin’s flinch of disgust.
“And the scholar would smell of the stables!” Miriuzca laughed.
“The masquers,” the Tregrefin said humorlessly, “do not become confused. They are knowing the importance of their roles and the words.”
“
All
done with words.” Rafe sighed. “Well, Mieka, that’s us out of work!”
The Tregrefin looked as if he thought that would not be a tragic turn of events.
By the time a last round of tea was served, Cade considered that he had the boy’s measure. Snobbishly confident, self-righteous in the way only an eighteen-year-old could be (from the vantage point of his twenty-four years, Cade was honest enough to admit that he was living in the skin of the perfect priggish pattern for this attitude); pious, and militant in his piety; wary of magic, and giving Mieka’s ears many nervous sidelong glances. Condescension and disapproval competed to a standstill on his dark face. Cade wondered suddenly if the Tregrefin had met Princess Iamina yet.
Miriuzca turned her face to the spring sunlight and smiled. “I so enjoy Seekhaven,” she said. “Not as formal as the Palace or even the Keeps. Though it’s fun to be there on tour
A swift look at Mieka and Rafe showed him that they weren’t exactly charmed by that notion, either. Jeska went on smiling slightly, nodding slightly, thoughts and feelings hidden behind his beautiful golden face.
“Plays,” concluded Ilesko, “are for showing the sin, and how it is punished, and what to do for the earning forgiveness.”
Miriuzca was looking a little desperate. Cade imitated Jeska, knowing the smile to be infinitely less effective on his infinitely less beautiful face, and said, “Our theater was once much the same, you know. Plays were made to encourage people to behave honorably towards each other, and to educate them about history, and the ways of the Lord and the Lady and Angels and Old Gods—”
“That is a very great wrongness,” Ilesko interrupted severely. “There is the Lord and there is the Lady and that is all. The other things—they do not matter. They do not exist.” He turned to his sister, who looked uncomfortable. “You are now believing these things that you should not.”
“It is the custom of Albeyn, which is now my home,” she said with simple dignity. “And in Albeyn the theater has expanded beyond plays about morality, and now a tregetour can write about anything. Is this not so, Master Silversun?”
“Your Royal Highness is perfectly correct. Theater has and indeed must move on from the traditional plays, and explore whatevery person thinks and feels. Has Your Royal Highness ever seen the Shadowshapers’ play, ‘A Life in a Day’?”
“Oh, yes!”
The more she praised it, the less her brother liked it.
Jeska explained the difficulties of having two masquers onstage at once, and how it complicated the work of the glisker and fettler; Rafe expressed himself grateful that Cade and Jeska were too much the individualists to permit more than one tregetour or more than one masquer into Touchstone’s plays, because he and Mieka had enough trouble with the pair of them as it was.
“How many masquers appear in plays on the Continent?” Rafe asked.
“For the play they perform, five.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “A learned man named Vaustas, a nobleman and his wife, and the Lord and the Lady.”
Rafe grinned across the table at Mieka. “You hear that? Five of them onstage!”
The Elf gave an exaggerated shudder. “I’m good, but nobody’s
that
good! I’d get so confused, I’d dress the nobleman in a ball gown and his wife in full armor!”
“The Lord would have long blond curls and a feathered fan,” Cade said deliberately, unsurprised to see the Tregrefin’s flinch of disgust.
“And the scholar would smell of the stables!” Miriuzca laughed.
“The masquers,” the Tregrefin said humorlessly, “do not become confused. They are knowing the importance of their roles and the words.”
“
All
done with words.” Rafe sighed. “Well, Mieka, that’s us out of work!”
The Tregrefin looked as if he thought that would not be a tragic turn of events.
By the time a last round of tea was served, Cade considered that he had the boy’s measure. Snobbishly confident, self-righteous in the way only an eighteen-year-old could be (from the vantage point of his twenty-four years, Cade was honest enough to admit that he was living in the skin of the perfect priggish pattern for this attitude); pious, and militant in his piety; wary of magic, and giving Mieka’s ears many nervous sidelong glances. Condescension and disapproval competed to a standstill on his dark face. Cade wondered suddenly if the Tregrefin had met Princess Iamina yet.
Miriuzca turned her face to the spring sunlight and smiled. “I so enjoy Seekhaven,” she said. “Not as formal as the Palace or even the Keeps. Though it’s fun to be there on tour
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