Liza stared intently at the youth for a few moments, trying to gauge wherever or not this was fact or another of his attempts at humour. When she decided it was real, she rummaged in the pockets of her jacket and produced a small leather-bound notebook.

“What are you doing?” Duffy relaxed a little as the threat of violence disappeared.

“Something Wainwright said, about or Olbanian guests.” She skimmed page after page of notes about the affairs of Rodham’s court until she found a line penned in chicken scratch after one too many glasses of wine. Her heart sunk.

“Is it really him?”

“We’ve started to have doubts about the intent behind the Olbanian emissary’s ‘state visit’, so if the Grand Inquisitor is here then we’re are all in danger.” She closed the book and tucked it away. “Duffy, don’t tell Wainwright. It’ll only upset him and this play must, must go according to plan.”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” He nodded in agreement and bounded off stage to finalise preparations for the opening act.

Sweat beaded on Liza’s brow. She had tried to quash the rumours spreading amongst the troupe about the presence of mage hunters and how close the city guard had come to finding their hideout in the docklands. Ever since the emissary had arrived the queen’s behaviour had soured. Her strange request now made perfect sense. Here was an opportunity for the Inquisitor to see ‘rogue elements’ first hand. She swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Lilly!” she roared.

Oblivious to the growing turmoil in their leading lady’s heart, the members of the troupe on stage wheeled fake trees into place and swept away sawdust. The children re-appeared, chasing a cock a hoop and laughing together as the tallest of their number tried desperately to keep it rolling over the roughshod planks. Liza faked a smile and dodged out of their way, trying to remember that not only was she the troupe’s female lead, but mother to its orphans as well.

“You’re not supposed to be here, sis,” said a familiar voice from behind a painted cut out of a garden wall covered in tissue paper vines. “What’s up?”

“Lilly, am I glad to see you!” Liza approached and appeared around the prop. She tried to smile, but an awkward grimace made Lilly stand up and put the hammer and nails down on a crate by her side.

“Can it wait until I’ve finished securing this? I don’t want a repeat of the summer pageant, Malone’s still got a nasty bump on his head from the parapet falling.”

Liza smiled.

“Fine, go on, what is it?” Lilly folded her arms across her chest defensively. Unlike the rest of the troupe, she and Liza shared a sisterly bond that afforded them a degree of openness Liza reigned in with anyone else.

“We have a guest in the audience I’d rather not be there.”

“Oh.” Lilly frowned. “I’d heard rumours. It’s nothing to worry about though, is it?”

Olbany was a kingdom far to the west of the continent, a theocratic state that put its suspicion and hatred of magic above all over priorities. War was brewing between Rodham, Olbany, and Pennon and had been for decades. Nobody wanted to admit that the tensions would grow into anything severe. Lilly curled her rolls of jet black hair in a bundle and tucked it neatly into a tight ponytail. She produced a strand of red silk from her sleeve and tied it in place.

“King Rodham has never allowed the Inquisition into our city, never mind letting them waltz right into a theatre known for its use of the Tongues.” Liza would be the first to admit their openness about their talents to anyone, but now she doubted wherever they had made a mistake.

“Which I guess means we’ve now got a target on our backs.” Lilly began to pack away her tools and bundle them into the crate. She bent to pick it up and began to haul it offstage. “Come on, we can worry ourselves sick after the play.” She didn’t stop to hear Liza’s protests.

“Places, places, places!” Liza shouted atop her lungs.

The stage emptied and the actors debuting in act one appeared in the eaves, clad in a variety of regal costumes and atrociously pomp wigs fitting of the styles of Rodham a century ago. Duffy clambered up the ladder to the lightning rig that ran behind the curtains the full length of the stage and started furiously cranking levers to drop glass chandeliers into place. Liza took a deep breath and disappeared behind the curtain covering the central plinth and stepped into the cool sanctuary of her dressing room.