The Truth-Teller's Tale by Sharon Shinn
“Oh, it was before I met your father, of course,” Mother said. She touched a hand to her cheek and smiled. For a moment, she looked exactly the way Adele did when she was contemplating some sweet secret. “Such a romantic boy. And utterly striking. But so unsteady. Hardly to be relied upon. Nothing like your father.” She smiled again and then shook her head a little as if to shake free of strong memories. “Well! That was a long time ago.”
Adele turned to look at me, her blue and green eyes at their widest. “I suppose this actor of yours is unsteady and unreliable as well,” she said.
I shrugged a little pettishly. “Not that it matters. I’ll probably never even speak to him again. I’d just like to go to this play, is all.”
“Yes,” Adele said, “I’d love to go.”
Since our parents didn’t object, and we worked hard during the next afternoon to get our day’s chores done, Adele and I actually did attend Devil of a Time the following night. We wore the dresses that we had commissioned last year for the Summermoon festival—fine enough for an outdoor summer play, but no longer the most elegant outfits in our wardrobes—and walked the two miles to the edge of town, where the theater had been set up. The streets of Merendon, in winter so empty at this time of day, were still full of tourists and townspeople enjoying the late sunshine and fine weather. We knew at least a third of the people who joined us in the rather rickety stands built three-quarters of the way around the makeshift stage. We had arrived early, so we secured excellent seats—in the center of the fourth row. We would be able to see everything.
And it was a wonderful play. Oh, it was silly and melodramatic and every once in a while the actors would deliver a particularly ridiculous line. At that point, they would turn to glance at the audience as if to say, “It is not my fault this is such a nonsensical play!” which only made everyone in the audience laugh even harder. The heroine was so pretty and so engaging that I would have hated her for standing up there onstage, flirting with Edgar (the hero), except that her quick asides to the audience made it clear that she thought he was a big overgrown boy who was not nearly as interesting as most of the men in the stands probably were. Edgar himself, even when he was down on his knees proclaiming undying love to her, managed to make it seem as if he was laughing at his own lines without diminishing the power of the play in the least. More than once, when he was supposed to be making some impassioned speech to his ladylove, his eyes were scanning the crowd, and it was clear he was telling the audience, not the actress, who really owned his heart.
All in all, a most impressive performance.
He saw me the very first time he came onstage. I know, because even while he spoke his part, his gaze was restlessly roving over the stands, searching for someone. He stopped looking when he saw me. A small smile touched his mouth, even though his character was not, at that particular moment, supposed to be happy; his hand went surreptitiously to his heart. As soon as his speech was over and the other actors were engaged in a long-winded argument, his eyes came back to me; the smile returned. And then he glanced away from me, to Adele, and back to me. The smile widened. I felt myself blushing in the incomplete darkness of the stands.
Perhaps it was no wonder that I thought the play the most marvelous entertainment I had ever seen.
It lasted nearly three hours and was still too short. The minute it ended and the ill-rigged curtain came clumsily down, the crowd erupted into applause. “That was certainly enjoyable!” Adele called into my ear as we rose to our feet, clapping and stamping along with everyone. “And how beautiful your young man is!”
“He’s not my young man!” I called back.
She laughed. “He certainly seemed most enamored of you!”
“Can 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.”
“I 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.
“Eleda,” 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?”
“I 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.”
“That 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.”
“I 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.
“The scene where the heroine hid the diary,” said the Safe-Keeper.
“The 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.
“But we are closer than most people realize,” Adele said.
“Will 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.”
“Then come by yourself,” Edgar said.
I laughed. “I don’t think that’s likely to happen.”
“I’ll give you passes,” he pressed. “Good for any night. Come whenever you like.”
“We’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 there were powers that could not be ignored. “It seems I must go,” he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a few scraps of paper. “The passes. I hope you will use them.” He bowed again, kissed his hands to me, and with incomparable grace skipped down the bleachers and back onto the stage.
Well. I could not help a sigh.
“What a wonderful night,” I said, as Adele and I more cautiously made our way out of the stands. “And didn’t you think Edgar was just the handsomest man?”
“Indeed I did,” she agreed.
“And charming?”
&
“And he’s a very fine actor, too,” I added. “Even in such a silly play. I wonder what the historical play is like. More serious, I would suppose. I wish I could see him in that.”
“You might be able to get away one night.”
“Yes, but I couldn’t go alone!”
“I’m sure Roelynn would find a way to join you.”
Oh, yes, Roelynn would be the perfect companion for a trip to the theater to swoon over a dashing young actor. But. “Yes, but Roelynn is so much more beautiful than I am! And wealthy and delightful. What if Edgar liked her more than he liked me?”
Adele smiled. “I imagine Edgar meets many young women at least as delightful as Roelynn on a pretty regular basis. If you can’t feel easy introducing him to your friend while you’re standing there watching, you could hardly relax a moment once he was out of your sight meeting fetching young women all over the kingdom.”
That made me frown. I did not like the picture she conjured up of Edgar going from town to town, dallying with all the prettiest girls. Not that I didn’t realize it was true. I just didn’t like to think about it. “Well, maybe I won’t take Roelynn,” I said a little childishly.
“Oh, why not? Isn’t she all caught up in some intrigue of her own right now? The sailor Micah introduced her to—the one who’s working on one of her father’s ships?”
I cheered up instantly. “Yes! She talked about him for hours last time we saw her. She wouldn’t be interested in Edgar. Anyway, Edgar wouldn’t be interested in her. I mean, he’s not even interested in me, really. He’s just flirting. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“It means he finds you attractive,” she said. “That’s always nice to know.”
“Yes, and isn’t he just the handsomest man?” I said again. I went through all the adjectives one more time as we walked down the dark and mostly empty streets of Merendon. Adele agreed to them all: charming and entertaining and talented and worldly. And just as we’d rounded the corner on our street, and the inn with all its lighted windows was only a block away, I said, “And you really liked him, didn’t you?” and she said, “Yes, I did.”
And I stopped dead and peered at her in the dark because I could tell she was lying.
She stared back at me, her face impassive, and neither of us spoke for at least a minute. And then I said, in a much different tone of voice, “Why don’t you like him?”
She looked as if she was considering another lie, but then sort of shrugged and gave it up. “Because he’s handsome and charming and delightful, and I think he’s probably the most faithless man in the kingdom. And I don’t know why he would find it amusing to romance a fifteen-year-old girl, when he’s obviously twenty-five or more. I suspect his motives and distrust his honor.” She shrugged again.
I was absolutely furious. “How can you say such terrible things? You don’t know anything about him! He could be the kindest man in the world! You don’t like him because he’s an actor—and you’re a snob, you’re like Mother and Father and even Roelynn’s father, you think people have to have some kind of respectable, boring profession to be worthwhile—”
She tried to interrupt me numerous times. “I didn’t say that—I didn’t say any of that—well, you’re the one who’s usually more judgmental than I am, so this is just a little funny—” I wouldn’t let her complete a sentence. I wouldn’t listen to what she had to say. I put my hands over my ears and ran the last few yards to the inn. Then I yanked the door open and darted upstairs, past my mother, who stood there gaping at me. I dashed into the room and flung myself on the bed before I remembered that this was Adele’s room, too. Then I jumped up, locked the door, and threw myself back on the bed and cried for an hour.
I suppose Adele spent the night in one of the guest rooms or on the sofa in the parlor downstairs. She didn’t even come upstairs and twist the handle on the door. I have no idea what she told our parents. Certainly nothing about Edgar, because they didn’t come seeking me out the next day to tell me in no uncertain terms to have nothing to do with such a man. No, Adele was a Safe-Keeper, not one to tell other people’s stories.
But I did not appreciate her discretion. I could not forgive her for the things she had said the night before. From that day until Summermoon, I went out of my way to avoid speaking to her at all. You would have thought this would have been difficult, particularly as there was no way to bar her from her own room after that one night, and we spent the next three weeks sleeping only a few feet apart. But Adele had a great gift for silence. If you did not want to talk to her, that was perfectly fine with her. She never felt the necessity of initiating any conversation at all.
So I did not tell her how my romance with Edgar progressed. I did not tell her how, so many days when my mother sent me out on errands, I was able to swing by the southern edge of town and visit the Harst & Hope Regional Traveling Troupe. I did not tell her about the night Roelynn and I went to see Rebecca’s Revenge, and stayed nearly two hours after the performance had ended, while I flirted with Edgar, and Roelynn quickly established friendly relations with the young man who handled horses and heavy lifting for the actors. I did not tell her about the stolen kisses, the quick embraces, the whispered pleas for me to stay another minute, another hour, there’s a little room right behind the stage where we could be quite private. . . .
I told no one but Roelynn that I had agreed to meet him very late on Summermoon, after Killed by a Kiss had closed and all the chores at the inn were done. I knew that no one would miss me till very late the following morning, for Mother and Father would sleep in, and Adele, if she did not sleep late, would see my empty bed and assume I had risen early. I thought it would be my one chance to find out if he truly loved me, as he said he did. I wanted to know, but I did not want anyone else to know about my desperate assignation.
I had learned to be my own Safe-Keeper. I found I rather liked it. There is nothing so exhilarating as a secret, particularly a dangerous one. Nothing so exhilarating . . . and nothing so deadly.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Summermoon is such a different celebration from Wintermoon. Much more lighthearted and frivolous, full of activities and distractions. Wintermoon is a time to think about the months past and what you would like to leave behind, and to look forward to the year ahead and plan to make better use of your time. Wintermoon is a time for reflection and soul-searching and coming to terms with your dreams. Summermoon is simply about delight.
Our entire street had been decorated with ribbons and pennants and floral wreaths since the week preceding the holiday. Restaurants set out chairs on the sidewalks, and minstrels strolled by. It was said that the city beggars earned half their year’s income on Summermoon alone, for generous (and often drunken) revelers would toss them dozens of coins as they passed by. The Leaf & Berry was full of guests, some rooms holding two or three more people than the accommodations usually allowed, and there was so much work to do that I had very little time to enjoy the pleasures of the festival. But everyone was in such a good mood that it was hard to complain about the extra sheets to wash, the extra food to prepare, the additional cleaning that had to be done to keep the front parlor looking inviting.
Besides, I knew that once midnight rolled around on Summermoon, my responsibilities would be done, and I could creep out the back door and head down to the edge of town for my romantic tryst with my handsome actor.
“Are you really going to meet him tomorrow?” Roelynn whispered to me the afternoon before that much-anticipated day. She had come to the inn with Micah to collect some of our guests, who would be attending dinner at her father’s house that evening. Karro’s house was quite large, but his circle of acquaintances was even larger, and he could not accommodate them all overnight.
“Yes, I am,” I said. “I’m going to wear that dress you lent me—you know, all gauze and pink ribbons. I’ve hidden it in the back of my armoire.”
“And are you go
“No,” I said right away. And then, “I don’t know. I haven’t decided. I’m not sure that’s what he wants.”
“Oh, I’m certain that it is,” she said in a knowing tone of voice. “But is that what you want? You should know now, before you meet him, so that you aren’t tricked or coerced into doing something you don’t intend to do.”
“Tricked! Coerced! What kind of opinion do you have of him, anyway?” I demanded.
She shrugged. “Persuaded, then. You know what I mean. You should not allow the excitement of the moment to cause you to do something you don’t want to do.”
“I never do what I don’t want to do,” I said.
“Well, not usually,” she replied. “But with a man—particularly with a man like Edgar—it’s different. Sometimes your will is not as strong as you’d like. Just be sure that what you do is what you want to do.”
I was so annoyed with her that I couldn’t wait for Micah to reappear with the guests in tow. “And have you sometimes been tricked and coerced into doing things you didn’t want to do?” I snapped.
She nodded, looking sad. “I have.”
Now I stared, and my whole attitude changed. “Roelynn! Tell me!”
“Oh—not now—it was a while ago. But it won’t happen to me again. So promise me you’ll be careful tomorrow, Eleda. Promise me.”
“You make it sound like I’m going to an execution, not a rendezvous.”
“I just want you to be happy.”
We had no time to talk anymore because now, when I least wanted them to appear, Micah and the guests came out the front door. Roelynn hurried over to greet them in her best rich-man’s-daughter voice, and I went back inside. I was instantly drawn into the day’s calamity—a dinner roast ruined, should we substitute with baked chicken or perhaps another meat pie?—and didn’t have another minute to think about Roelynn or my own situation until nearly midnight.