Black Wolf

Chapter 14

Alturiak, 1372 DR

Despite the enchantments that kept snow and cold outside the Wide Realms in winter, the players usually spent the season rehearsing the spring productions and performing for private audiences. Since the strange attack on the playhouse the previous autumn, audiences were practically beating on the gates for more. Ever the businesswoman, Quickly wasted no time obliging them.

The house was packed on the opening night of The Cormyrian Cousins. The play was another of Quickly's broad comedies, full of mistaken identity, physical humor, and cross-dressing. While he was glad to help research Cormyrian history and customs from two centuries ago, Tal was disappointed to see that most of his hard work was demonstrated in the costumes, not the dialogue. It was hard to complain, however, since Quickly gave him the role he wanted-as well as all the fencing.

Tal was proud of the fight scenes, which he had been developing since Ches with Mallion and Sivana-who played both twin sisters except during the revelation, when hulking Ennis would wear the swordswoman's gown for the wedding dance.

Only one of the fights took place on the stage, while the others ranged from the balconies to the gallery railings. Most took place right on the ground, among the audience. Quickly had concerns about safety and ordered Presbart to monitor the gate carefully, admitting only a hundred groundlings to leave room for the fencers. It was all very well to capitalize on Marance Tallendar's attack last winter, but she didn't want to make a habit of maiming the audience.

The galleries were packed, heightening the nervousness all the players felt when unveiling a new production. Quickly puffed on her pipe and stalked the backstage area. Tal wished she would find some detail to correct-someone in the wrong costume or missing a wig. After fixing a problem, she might stop worrying that she'd forgotten something.

When she called time, Tal donned a heavy cloak and circled around the outside of the building to take his mark near the front entrance. There he winked at Presbart and handed over the cloak as he stepped inside. Together, they peered over the edge of the gallery rail to see who had come.

Among the usual crowd of artisans and laborers were many young merchant nobles, conspicuous in their fine doublets and gowns. There was a brief scuffle in the lower gallery as a man refused to doff his tall, feathered hat while a round-shouldered bricklayer kept swatting it off his head from behind. At last the peacock chose another seat, and all was well.

"Psst!"

Tal turned at the sound, smiling as he spotted Chaney leaning on the rails of the lower gallery. He had an arm around a buxom brunette who craned her neck to see someone on the other side of the yard. Tal thought he recognized the woman as a barmaid from the Green Gauntlet, but it had been so long since he'd been there that he couldn't be sure.

Lommy leaned out of the tiny window in the peaked roof directly above the stage. With an explosive puff of his green cheeks, he blew a brassy fanfare on a curled gloon. Once the crowd's chatter had subsided, the tasloi crossed his arms and leaned upon the window's edge. Whenever he spied someone pointing or staring at him, he made a grotesque face or thumbed his nose.

Ennis strode onto the stage in the stately gown of a royal herald. He set the scene in a windy series of obvious anachronisms and malapropisms, which the audience corrected by shouting back at him. Before the pompous character could bore the audience, Lommy descended from the heavens dressed as the world's ugliest messenger of Sune, goddess of love and beauty. Rather than bless the herald's exposition as the blustery man prayed, the messenger chased him off the stage with a heart-tipped wand.

That was Tal's cue. The audience parted before him as he strode through the yard. Simultaneously, Mallion emerged from backstage. Dressed in a lord's nightgown, he also wore a scabbard at his hip.

"What bird is this that wakes me from my sleep?" he blinked up at the heavens, too late to see Lommy vanish into the trapdoor.

"The herald of my retribution calls," cried Tal from the center of the yard. "Stand forth and face your rightful punishment!"

Mallion fumbled for his sword, feigning sleepy confusion so well that the audience already began to chuckle. "Come no closer, knave, or I shall call the dogs."

"The dog stands before me, or else-" Tal choked as someone jerked his cape.

For an instant, he imagined he was back in the Arch Wood, fleeing from Rusk and his pack when he had felt a similar tug at his throat. He whirled around to face the offender, but he saw no likely suspect.

"Mind the hedges," said Mallion, descending the stairs to the sound of laughter.

Such a smooth cover for Tal's mishap was one of the many reasons Mallion continued to garner the best parts. Tal was too grateful to hold it against him.

"I'll trim them when I've finished shaving you," said Tal with a cut at Mallion's head.

Mallion parried neatly. "Not once I've cut you down to human size."

"That won't hide his bastard's blood!" cried a voice from the crowd. The audience tittered nervously. Feeble as it was, Tal sensed that the insult was directed at him, not his character.

"Don't blame the boy," called another voice in the yard. "It's the mother's fault!"

Lightning flashed in his brain, and Tal turned his head toward the speaker. Expecting Tal's parry, Mallion checked his cut too late, and the point of his sword cut Tal's cheek. Tal barely felt the cut as his eyes sought his rude accuser. Before he could spot a likely source, another voice called from the second gallery.

"She must have fancied Perivel's ogre."

Tal looked up to see a big bearded man pointing at him as he laughed. More shocking still was the sight of an elf sitting on the rail beside the mocking man. Her cloak was two sizes too big for her slender form, and her pale skin stood out even among the powdered faces of the gallery. If more of the audience spotted her, she would regret it. Most Sembians loathed elves, and the rest were sure to avoid their company for fear of sharing the stigma of the hated outsiders.

The laughter was even more uncomfortable this time, except for a dozen loud voices throughout the yard. Tal had not heard such dirty gossip since his early teens, when his unusual size made him the object of childish jibes about his real parentage.

Someone in the yard shouted, "That's enough! We came to hear a play, not-" The voice cut off suddenly as someone pulled the man down. Tal could barely see the scuffle, but it looked as though two men had pushed the speaker to the floor.

'That's not why he was kicked out of the house, though," called a big red-bearded man with a broken nose. He stood where Tal had seen the scuffle a moment earlier, one meaty hand on his hip. His tone was insolent, inviting a quarrel. "His father won't share his concubine!"

"Right," growled Tal, dropping his sword. "That's it."

"Don't do it!" warned Mallion, lowering his sword and reaching for Tal. He was much too slow.

Tal was already halfway to the redbearded man, the audience scattering in his wake. Red was ready for the attack. Their fists struck home simultaneously, each cracking the other's jaw. The crowd went momentarily silent at the sickening collisions. Tal tasted blood and felt loose teeth in his jaw.

"Help him!" yelled Quickly from the stage door.

Instead, most of the groundlings scattered. Those few who fried to interpose themselves between the fighters soon regretted it and stepped back holding a bloody nose or bruised ribs.

Tal grabbed his opponent's beard and smashed his nose flat with a head-butt. Hot blood sprayed his face as the man shot a knee into Tal's stomach. Breathless, Tal let go and staggered back.

All around him, people were shouting, grabbing, or fleeing. The actors poured out onto the stage and into the yard. Quickly kept bellowing for order, but more brawlers joined the fray every second.

"Look out!" Chaney shouted from nearby.

Tal ducked just in time to let another big man fly over him, into the crowd. Despite the chaos, Tal smelled something on his new assailant that reminded him of the bearded man. They both had the same musky odor almost hidden by a faint smell of smoke. It seemed familiar, but Tal had no time to ponder it. Redbeard and his friend easily shrugged off the hands that tried to restrain them.

"Not bad," spat Red, grinning madly at Tal. Blood poured over his mouth and soaked his beard. "Maybe he is a hunter after all."

Rusk, thought Tal. Before he could ponder the idea, Red's companion was upon him.

Long brown sideburns flared from the man's cheeks, emphasizing his lupine features. He snarled as his long fingers encircled Tal's neck and thrust his thumbs into Tal's throat.

Tal tried to rip the hands away, but the man was far stronger than he looked. His fingers dug into Tal's throat, even as Tal strained to pull them away.

"This is how Rusk killed the old woman," said the stran-gler. "Maybe I'll do the same for you."

Maleva, thought Tal. Could they have killed Maleva?

Tal punched the man and felt ribs crack, but Red kept his inhuman grip. Tal punched again, feeling his own strength wane as his lungs ached.

The strangler gasped suddenly and loosed his grip. Tal pushed him away and caught his breath as his assailant turned to face his new opponent. Chaney darted away, unwilling to face the big man after his sneak attack. The big fellow clutched his back and pursued him.

Tal went after him, but Red stepped in the way. "Not so fast, Black Wolf."

"Who the hell are you?" growled Tal. Confusion and anger swirled in his mind. "You killed Maleva?"

"Oh, no," said Red. "She was the Huntmaster's. But maybe I'll get to do the daughter."

Tal's eyes flashed red, and heat surged in his brain. He acted without thought, lashing out and feeling flesh part under his suddenly clawed fingers. He lunged to bite out the man's throat, but Red blocked him with an arm. Tal's teeth sank deep into the man's flesh-far deeper than he imagined possible.

Red howled in pain, and Tal felt something buffet his back. Heedless, he slashed over and over at Red, tearing his arms to ribbons with huge claws. His mouth opened wide to scream at the man, but only an incoherent snarl came out.

"Get away!" shouted a woman.

Tal glimpsed a muscular woman pulling at Red, trying to lead him into the crowd. The strangler was at her side, staring at Tal in alarm and confusion.

"Look at him!" said the strangler.

Tal's vision blurred. He could see no clear details, but his eyes picked out the slightest movement: the pulse in the strangler's neck, the muscles in the woman's hands as she clutched the wounded man.

"Help me," said the woman, shouldering the wounded man.

The strangler obeyed, only too glad to flee from whatever he saw when he looked at Tal. His reaction stunned Tal more than the fight. What was happening to him?

The yard was a maelstrom of sounds, but Tal could pick out every voice. Chaney was shouting his name, as were most of the players. The man who'd taunted him from the gallery was yelling, "Get away! Get the hells away from him!"

A hundred other voices shrieked or panted for breath as players and spectators alike fled the scene of mayhem.

"Tal!" shouted Chaney again.

His voice was coming closer, and Tal turned to spot him. As their eyes met, Chaney stopped dead, staring at Tal's face.

Chaney, Tal tried to say. Again, no words took form. His mouth felt all wrong.

"Tal?" Chaney said. His eyes fell to Tal's hands.

Tal looked down to see two enormous claws where his hands had been. Even as he watched, the black hairs and claws shrank away, leaving only his own human hands.

"It's too soon," muttered Tal. "It's still light, and the moon-"

"No time for that," said Chaney. "We've got to get out of here."

He took a step toward Tal, then hesitated, afraid to come closer. The look of fear on his friend's face was even more horrible than the blood on his hands.

The yard was almost empty now, except for the players who stood well away from Tal and Chaney. Their faces were masks of fear and revulsion. Mallion bit his knuckle to stop a scream, while Sivana kept her eyes on the stage floor. Ennis gaped like a blowfish.

"Let's go," said Chaney. "This way, before the Scepters get here."

Dumbly, Tal nodded and followed Chaney onto the stage. All the other players moved away as they passed. Tal held his bloodied hands away from his body as if afraid they might turn on him at any moment.

Outside, the crowd had spread nervously around the playhouse. As Chaney and Tal emerged, someone cried, "They're the ones!"

Four city Scepters stepped forth, batons in hand. After one look at the blood on Tal's hands and face, they dropped the clubs and drew their swords.

"Get on the ground!" shouted one of them. In a lower voice, he ordered one of his men to summon help. That Scepter sheathed his sword and ran for reinforcements.

"Run for it," said Chaney.

Even as he spoke, another quartet of Scepters arrived from the opposite direction. There was no way to escape without a fight.

"No," said Tal. "It's over."

He put himself down on the street. Reluctantly, Chaney lay down beside him as the Scepters cautiously approached.