The House On Durrow Street Part 5

CHAPTER FIVE.

ELDYN DIPPED HIS pen, then scribed another row of evenly s.p.a.ced figures in the ledger before him.

"Never have I seen such worldly matters recorded in so heavenly a fas.h.i.+on!" Father Gadby, the rector of Graychurch, declaimed as he peered over Eldyn's shoulder. "I have seen hymnals illuminated by monks, with all manner of flourish and ornament, that hardly looked more beautiful than your accounts of daily receipts and demands, Mr. Garritt."

Eldyn smiled, though he did not look up from his work. "I simply try to do the best that I can, Father."

"So you do, Mr. Garritt, and there are many that could benefit from your example." He ran a hand over his pate to smooth his gray hair, of which there was little left, for as a result of being frequently fussed with for want of growing in the right direction, most of it had given up growing altogether. "It is a tribute to G.o.d to use all of the talents that He in His benevolence has granted you. But you hardly need me to tell you that! I can see by every stroke of your pen that you know it in your heart."

The rector returned to his desk on the other side of the long room, moving delicately, despite his considerable circ.u.mference, on a pair of small feet. There he busied himself with rearranging books and papers that had already been gathered into tidy stacks.

Eldyn took the last slips of paper from the wooden box to his left, then s.h.i.+fted the ledger on the table, the better to catch the light that fell from the windows high above. He glanced up, and through the rippled gla.s.s he could just make out the shadows of boots and shoes and the hems of dresses pa.s.sing by. Eldyn didn't mind working below the church. It was quiet, and even on the afternoons of a long lumenal it stayed cool. While the lofty vaults of the church above inspired, the thick walls offered a quiet comfort. mind working below the church. It was quiet, and even on the afternoons of a long lumenal it stayed cool. While the lofty vaults of the church above inspired, the thick walls offered a quiet comfort.

True, if he went lower down, he would find those whose bodies would never leave their silent sanctuaries of stone, for below these rooms were the crypts. These were said to extend for level after level, as the church had been built upon the ruins of holy edifices even more ancient than itself. However, that thought did not trouble Eldyn. He had never had a fear of the dead.

As a boy, he had liked the tranquillity of graveyards. There had been an old burial yard not far from the house at Bramberly, where they had dwelled in the days before his father had squandered the last of their money. Sometimes Eldyn would venture across the field to the burial yard and lie down before one of the headstones. There he would shut his eyes and fold his arms over his chest, pretending to be at eternal repose.

Until such time as his father would find him and threaten to send him to the grave for real if he did not get up.

Eldyn began another page. Scribing figures was in no way so wondrous as working illusions, yet the acts were not entirely dissimilar. He was still conjuring a thing that had never existed before, though he used ink and paper to do so rather than light and air. As he worked, the sunbeam falling from above turned a deeper shade of gold. Perhaps the rector was right; perhaps G.o.d was indeed happy when one used one's talents.

Or was that really so? Eldyn had no great ability for illusion. But if he had, would G.o.d have been happy if he had used that that talent? talent?

Eldyn couldn't think so. Recently, he had spent some time looking at a copy of the Testament that he had purchased new despite the expense. If Eldyn applied to become a priest, he imagined the first question he would be asked was if he had ever read the whole of the Testament, and he wanted to be able to answer in the affirmative. Thus he had gone through several chapters while Sas.h.i.+e was asleep.

He was not entirely sure what he thought of the Testament yet. Some of it read like the most beautiful story, while other parts of it made little sense, being about the dealings of cherubim and seraphim and other strange celestial beings. He did not mind those sections, though there were a few pa.s.sages he had found unsettling. These described the fate that awaited those who defied G.o.d's will and, after death, were thrown into the pits of the Abyss to suffer torment for all of eternity. Some of it read like the most beautiful story, while other parts of it made little sense, being about the dealings of cherubim and seraphim and other strange celestial beings. He did not mind those sections, though there were a few pa.s.sages he had found unsettling. These described the fate that awaited those who defied G.o.d's will and, after death, were thrown into the pits of the Abyss to suffer torment for all of eternity.

It seemed to him an exceedingly severe punishment for misdeeds that were, in this imperfect world, exceedingly easy to commit. While nothing Eldyn had read so far had included specific proscriptions against the practice of illusion, he had heard enough over the years to know they were in there, only waiting for him to turn to the right page.

Yet it made no sense. If G.o.d did not want a man to use a talent such as illusion, then why give it to him? Eldyn twirled the quill in his hand, thinking. Perhaps G.o.d had given people the ability to commit sins because a man could only truly be good if he freely chose to be so. Not that it mattered; he wasn't going to be an illusionist anyway.

But Dercy was one.

The gold light faded, and Eldyn looked up. The high window had gone gray; the middle lumenal was nearly finished. However, he was far from finished with his work, so he returned his attention to the ledger. He had told Dercy he would attend the performance at the Theater of the Moon that night, and Eldyn didn't want to disappoint him. Perhaps it was because he knew he was soon bound to disappoint Dercy in other matters.

He had not yet told Dercy about his plan to enter the priesthood. Fortunately, over the last few days, Dercy had not mentioned anything about Eldyn's failure to work real illusions. Nor had Dercy pressed him to try again, which was just as well, as he had work enough to occupy him.

Eldyn opened another wooden box of receipts and dipped his pen, then continued entering figures in the ledger, recording the purchases of surplices, altar covers, and hymnals. The actions of angels and seraphs might be a mystery, but the behavior of numbers was well known to him, and they aligned themselves in orderly rows as he worked. was well known to him, and they aligned themselves in orderly rows as he worked.

THE MOON WAS rising above the spires of St. Galmuth's by the time Eldyn left Graychurch. The curtain of the Theater of the Moon would be rising as well by now. Yet if he was quick about it, he would still be able to catch the last half of that night's performance.

His plan was thwarted upon entering the apartment, for Sas.h.i.+e was in high spirits and wished to tell him about everything she had done for the verger that day. Nor could he help but indulge her, given how cheerful she was, and how many kisses she lavished upon him when he entered. So he listened to his sister chatter as they ate a cold pork pie.

At last all her excitement wearied her, for she began to yawn, and at his gentle yet persistent encouragement she retired to her room. As soon as her door shut, Eldyn made himself ready for the night.

He put on his coat of gray velvet-he had two coats now, one for daily wear and one for evenings out-then paused before a small mirror to arrange his hair. It still fell to his shoulders in a dark tumble, even though he could afford to have it cut more often. Dercy had told him to leave it long, that it would look more dramatic onstage.

Well, there was no point in that that anymore. Tomorrow he would get it cut. For the moment he tied it back with a black ribbon. He shut the door quietly behind him, then locked it. In the past he would have made sure there was no key inside so that Sas.h.i.+e could not escape. These days he was not worried about such things. For where would she go besides Graychurch, and what harm could come to her there? anymore. Tomorrow he would get it cut. For the moment he tied it back with a black ribbon. He shut the door quietly behind him, then locked it. In the past he would have made sure there was no key inside so that Sas.h.i.+e could not escape. These days he was not worried about such things. For where would she go besides Graychurch, and what harm could come to her there?

The moon was well into the sky by now, and Eldyn moved quickly, walking in the direction of High Holy. Usually he took care to avoid that area, for if the Old City was home to Invarel's thieves and beggars and wh.o.r.es, then High Holy was home to its most ruthless thieves, its most wretched beggars, and its most vulgar wh.o.r.es. However, it was the shortest route to Durrow Street. most ruthless thieves, its most wretched beggars, and its most vulgar wh.o.r.es. However, it was the shortest route to Durrow Street.

High Holy took its name from the rise on which it was situated, and which was crowned by an abandoned chapel. It was said the Church of Altania still owned the land beneath High Holy. If that was so, Eldyn wondered why such profligate behavior was allowed to flourish there. Yet as he now knew, the Church owned lands all over Altania; it could not possibly maintain order on them all.

Howls of laughter rang out just ahead. Or were they moans? Eldyn thickened the shadows around himself and hurried down dank lanes. Cloaked by darkness, he pa.s.sed unmolested-though from some of the sounds he heard, that was not the case for everyone.

He reached the Theater of the Moon just as people were spilling out of the entrance. Some of them affected a blissful expression, while others frowned or wore a puzzled look.

The Theater of the Moon was not the most popular theater on Durrow Street. Unlike in the other theaters, the illusionists here did not work glamours out on the street to draw people inside. Nor did the audience always seem to understand the play, in which a silvery youth, an avatar of the Moon, was eternally pursued by the fiery Sun King. Some nights the audience cheered the youth and booed the king at every turn, while other nights they sat in silence or became surly and shouted insults at the stage.

No doubt the theater would have pulled in larger crowds and greater receipts if it changed its play to a salacious caper involving leering satyrs and buxom nymphs. However, Madame Richelour had no interest in such productions.

"It is our work to conjure beauty," the owner of the theater had said on the first occasion Eldyn met her. "Let the Theater of Emeralds or the Theater of Fans fill their stage with tawdry tricks and their house with imbeciles."

"Let them fill their coffers with gold regals as well," Dercy had said to Eldyn quietly, grinning.

He was only making a jest. With his talents, Dercy could have found a place in the troupe at any theater. Instead he had chosen the Theater of the Moon, and Eldyn understood why. It was small and rather dilapidated, and the visions of light wrought upon its stage were not so grand or lurid as those crafted at other houses on Durrow Street. However, while not everyone cared for the illusion play about the Sun and Moon, those who did loved it with all their being. Just as Eldyn did. found a place in the troupe at any theater. Instead he had chosen the Theater of the Moon, and Eldyn understood why. It was small and rather dilapidated, and the visions of light wrought upon its stage were not so grand or lurid as those crafted at other houses on Durrow Street. However, while not everyone cared for the illusion play about the Sun and Moon, those who did loved it with all their being. Just as Eldyn did.

He moved past the patrons into the dimness of the theater and approached the curtain of frayed crimson velvet. All theaters on Durrow Street had red drapes before their stages, Eldyn had noticed. When he mentioned this, Dercy had told him it was because red was the only color that could fully block out illusory light. Thus, by using curtains of that hue, the theaters could make certain that audiences did not inadvertently get a glimpse of any illusions until the players were ready and the curtains parted.

While the curtains might have kept illusions from pa.s.sing outward, they could not prevent Eldyn from pa.s.sing in, and he slipped through a part in the drape, onto the stage.

"Did you see me?" Dercy said, catching Eldyn's arm at once. He had changed out of his costume, but there were still flecks of silver around his nose and eyes. "I was marvelous tonight."

"If you do say so yourself," Eldyn replied. "But I fear I was delayed and only just arrived, so you'll have to grant me a repeat performance."

"That can be arranged," Dercy exclaimed. "'Though I might be charred / to a cinder dark and dead / to s.h.i.+ne forth anew / I need only turn my head.'"

"I believe your head has indeed turned," Eldyn said with a grin.

Dercy was not the only one still filled with the energy of that night's production. All of the young men onstage shared in his liveliness as they talked and laughed, some still dressed to evoke stars or comets.

Eldyn could not help laughing along with the actors. He could feel the power that still lingered in the air of the theater. It brushed his skin like flakes of snow, at once causing a s.h.i.+ver and provoking a flush of warmth.

"Come on," Dercy said. "I'm thirstier than should be allowed by law, and I imagine you are, too. I can see the ink on your fingers. Hard at work this evening, were you?"

Eldyn confessed he had been.

"Then let us get to tavern quickly. These others can catch up to us-or try to, that is!"

Dercy led the way back through the theater and out onto the street. As they went he spoke of that night's performance: how he had been able to perfect the silver s.h.i.+mmer of his aura, and how the illusions had come easily to all of them that night, as they always seemed to when the moon was near its full.

All the theaters had let out their audiences, and Durrow Street was crowded. Some men slunk away, hats pulled low, while others walked boldly, clad in their richest attire. There were even women to be seen, most of them as painted as any illusionist. All of them were accompanied by gentlemen who had brought-and perhaps had bought-them here. But just because a lady held the arm of one fellow did not mean her gaze might not embrace another, and many of the women cast lingering looks at the two young men as they went. For their part, Eldyn and Dercy ignored all such glances and instead walked merrily down the street, linked arm in arm.

As they pa.s.sed before the entrance to the Theater of the Doves, someone called out Dercy's name. They looked up to see an illusionist fluttering toward them, still clad in his feathery costume. The thick layer of powder on his face had cracked, accentuating rather than concealing the deep lines by his mouth and eyes. He was certainly past fifty, which made him one of the oldest Siltheri that Eldyn had ever seen.

"What is it, Gerivel?" Dercy said as the other reached them. "Forgive my saying, but you look a bit ruffled tonight."

"Well, if so, I should think I have good cause!" The older man smoothed the feathers sewn on his sleeves. "We were short an illusionist tonight."

"Short an illusionist?"

"Yes, Mondfort is still unable to perform. Indeed, he was not able to leave his chamber tonight, and of course Bryson insisted on staying with him, as he always does." able to leave his chamber tonight, and of course Bryson insisted on staying with him, as he always does."

Dercy's smile faded. "I'm sorry to hear that. I hope Mondfort will be well enough to return to the stage soon. He is a great performer."

"Oh, the greatest! We all wish for his swift return, of course. But if he ever will be able to go onstage again..." The plumed epaulets of Gerivel's coat lifted in a shrug. "Well, only time will tell. In the meantime, the performance must go on, and it was no small feat tonight."

"Do you not keep two understudies?"

"Of course we do! Do you think us imprudent? But it was not only Mondfort and Bryson we were missing tonight. We were without Donnebric as well, and so I was forced to take on another role. I already play two, mind you, but there was no one else who could do Bryson's role without practice. I was the only one, as I used to do it myself. So I had no choice. Above all, the play. Yet I tell you, I am enervated beyond all reason."

Indeed, the illusionist looked weary. Again he smoothed the feathers on his arms, and Eldyn saw how his hand trembled as he did. Dercy appeared to notice this as well, and when he saw their attention Gerivel quickly crossed his arms, tucking his hands beneath.

"So where is Donnebric?" Dercy said, arching an eyebrow.

"I was hoping you would tell me! That young libertine is gifted, I grant you, but he has yet to develop proper respect for the craft. To miss a performance with no word or explanation is a betrayal of the troupe! I suppose he will offer some excuse, though. He always does."

"When did you see him last?"

"Earlier in the lumenal. He was leaving in a carriage, off to the New Quarter for a private performance at the house of a magnate. I cannot say whose house, though-we are forsworn to be silent."

"Or paid to be silent, you mean," Dercy said with a grin.

Once again Gerivel shrugged, as if to say there was no difference. "Well, even if I wished to tell you, I could not. We worked through an intermediary who arranged everything. Regardless, Donnebric was supposed to be back well before the play, but he still has not returned. I know you two used to run about together. Have you seen him?" through an intermediary who arranged everything. Regardless, Donnebric was supposed to be back well before the play, but he still has not returned. I know you two used to run about together. Have you seen him?"

"We had a few drinks together at tavern once or twice," Dercy said flatly. "That's all. And no, I haven't seen him. Have you spoken with this agent of your nameless magnate?"

"Of course," Gerivel said indignantly. "According to him, Donnebric departed the house of the patron in question hours before nightfall. Where he went next is unknown. All that is known is that he left in the company of a priest in a red ca.s.sock."

Dercy laughed. "A priest in a red ca.s.sock, you say? Illusionists and clergy at the same time-this magnate keeps peculiar company. Well, if Donnebric left with a priest, I don't imagine he can get into too much trouble. Though a few of the priests I knew at the Church of St. Adaris seemed determined to battle sin by becoming well versed in it."

The old illusionist gave him a sour look. "Now is not the time for jests, Dercent. I am seeking help."

Dercy's laughter was extinguished at once. "Of course. If I see Donnebric, I'll let him know you're looking for him."

"That is all I ask," Gerivel said. He gave an overdramatic bow, then returned to the door of the theater, vanis.h.i.+ng within.

Eldyn regarded his friend. "I thought only people you didn't like called you Dercent."

"You thought right. Now I'm doubly glad I didn't apprentice at the Theater of the Doves. The conniving old slag-he wants Mondfort's place, that's clear enough."

Eldyn looked at the darkened door of the theater. "Who is Mondfort?"

"He's the master illusionist at the Theater of the Doves. I met him once. He's brilliant. He can transform the whole stage into a garden or a cloudscape with a twitch of his finger-or could, at least. Gerivel doesn't have half his talent. He can scheme all he wants, but he'll never be master at this or any theater. Now come on, let's get a drink."

"What of your friend Donnebric?"

Dercy laughed. "I wouldn't call him my friend! Nor was I his. For, as I discovered, all he wants in a friend is a place to plant his boot while he climbs a step higher. Only by standing upon me, he could not reach anyone wealthy or powerful enough for his liking. Once he discovered that, he ignored me-much to my relief. I have far superior companions!"

With that he took Eldyn's arm, steering him toward a tavern beyond the last of the theaters, and Eldyn was led willingly.

THEY WERE ALREADY on their second pot of punch by the time more performers from the Theater of the Moon arrived. There were illusionists from other houses as well-from the Theater of Dreams, the Theater of Veils, and the Theater of Mirrors. Laughter erupted, cups went around, and soon the Siltheri were putting on an impromptu play.

It was mostly incomprehensible to Eldyn, as the players were constantly changing their forms. First they were Tharosian legionaries and woad-painted barbarians enacting a battle, then s.h.a.ggy wolves and bleating sheep engaging in a fierce dance. But no matter how little sense it made, the regular patrons of the tavern applauded enthusiastically at every turn. Few of them would have been able to afford to go to a theater, and so they were more than glad to have the theater come to them. And drinks were freely handed to all of the performers-which was no doubt the purpose in giving a show.

Yet, while the illusions were amazing, somehow the s.h.i.+mmering lights and raucous laughter were too much for Eldyn that night. He wanted a more dim and quiet place. Sensing his friend's need, Dercy led him to a booth in the back of the tavern. From there they could watch the illusionists without being caught up in the wild phantasms they conjured.

"d.a.m.n Siltheri," Dercy said, shaking his head. "They craft illusions all evening for money, then for fun they go and give them away for free."

"I think it's marvelous," Eldyn said, watching as a handsome young illusionist opened a door in his tall wig to let a flock of sparrows fly out. "They do it because they love to do it. Besides, what harm can there be in it?"

There was an expression on Dercy's face that Eldyn couldn't quite describe. It was thoughtful, but there was a sadness to it as well.

"They are beautiful fools," he said, then filled their cups again.

Eldyn sipped his punch. Despite his pleasure at being with his friend, he could not help feeling a note of sadness himself. Would that he could conjure such visions of delight and amus.e.m.e.nt as the illusionists did!

Well, he had other abilities. And even if he could not work grand illusions, there was nothing to stop him from paying a quarter regal to see them-at least until he entered the priesthood. Besides, as long as Dercy was his friend, he was bound to encounter illusions every day. This thought buoyed his spirits as much as the punch.

Applause rang out. The Siltheri in the wig bowed, then sat and gladly accepted the cup that was placed in his hand.

"So what does Siltheri Siltheri mean anyway?" Eldyn said, asking a question he had often wondered. "It's a peculiar word." mean anyway?" Eldyn said, asking a question he had often wondered. "It's a peculiar word."

"It comes from ancient Tharosian." Dercy flashed a grin. "Or so I'm told, as I'm no scholar. It means the concealed the concealed, and it was the name illusionists took for themselves long ago, back when their craft was as likely to get them an audience with an emperor as burned at the stake. Sometimes on the very same occasion."

"Well, times have changed."

Dercy scratched his bearded jaw. "Have they?"

"I saw in The Fox The Fox that an illusionist performed at a party at the house of a viscountess." that an illusionist performed at a party at the house of a viscountess."

"Don't let that fool you! Every now and then, some lord or lady who seeks notoriety will manufacture a pa.s.sing encounter with illusionists. A touch of scandal is like honey-it sets all the bees to buzzing. Then again, too much is poison, and the moment that lord or lady has risen high enough, they'll be the first to spurn a Siltheri." Dercy let out a snort. "Besides, last I looked, I hadn't seen any respectable lords coming to Durrow Street-at least not without their hats pulled down low and collars turned up." Siltheri." Dercy let out a snort. "Besides, last I looked, I hadn't seen any respectable lords coming to Durrow Street-at least not without their hats pulled down low and collars turned up."

Eldyn could only concede the point. Yet things had had changed. The theaters on Durrow Street, while beyond the bounds of respectable society, were allowed to operate openly, and they were busy nearly every night. So why couldn't things keep changing? Perhaps a time would come when illusionists would no longer need to conceal themselves no matter where they went. The world was a vast place after all-vaster than anyone had thought only a few hundred years ago, before the New Lands were discovered. Why shouldn't there be room for all sorts of folk? For some reason, this thought was as intoxicating to Eldyn as the punch. changed. The theaters on Durrow Street, while beyond the bounds of respectable society, were allowed to operate openly, and they were busy nearly every night. So why couldn't things keep changing? Perhaps a time would come when illusionists would no longer need to conceal themselves no matter where they went. The world was a vast place after all-vaster than anyone had thought only a few hundred years ago, before the New Lands were discovered. Why shouldn't there be room for all sorts of folk? For some reason, this thought was as intoxicating to Eldyn as the punch.

At last the hour grew late, and Eldyn drained his cup. The umbral was to be of only middling length, and he had promised he would attend Brightday service with Sas.h.i.+e in the morning. When he told Dercy it was time for him to leave, to his surprise, Dercy said he was weary as well, and so they left the tavern together.

They tottered back down Durrow Street, heads light and legs wobbly, laughing and gripping each other as they went. Dercy had a room above the Theater of the Moon, so getting that far was their first goal.

The street was all but empty now, the theaters dark, and the only illumination came from sooty streetlamps, which were few and far between. However, when they were about halfway down the street, they saw a knot of people gathered before the doors of one of the theaters.