“Yes. There’s room in the budget,” the raven-haired dragoon rolled his eyes. Money talked in Scara Brae, Leopold just wished it wasn’t him doing all the talking.

“Good man. Any ideas about keeping the rabble from a cold death, or from going home to blankets, bosoms, and hot chocolate?” He pushed away from the oak and began to pace his height back and forth. His breath pealed into wispy vapours as day turned to night.

“Little fires in pits spread about the stage?” Ruby offered, only ever able to think of fire and gin when it came to the logistics.

“We’d never get a permit for that.” Leopold replied.

“There are braziers we could use, the Queen said we could help ourselves to ‘city property’.” Lilith liked the idea of having carte blanche.

“Oh! Yes! Like the good old days of Queen Lear or Bacmeth!” Ruby’s eyes glistened. “Ugh, why has it taken us six months to get back into shape?”

“You spent the first two months after our little renaissance of form feeling yourself up and flirting with bellboys.” Leopold frowned, but secretly enjoyed seeing his wife happy again after spending half a decade moping after Duffy’s fourth and hopefully final death. A look, don’t touch philosophy had saved their marriage. That, and finding himself with a body that didn’t perspire so much as thinking about walking up stairs.

“We’re here now. That’s all that matters.” Duffy turned to his family and pointed to the east road. “We’ll have guests come in that way and form a half circle around the stage. We’ll put braziers around the square to give people something to keep warm in between acts, and the Queen and whatever nobles deign to turn up can take to their usual raised stands on the far side so everyone, rich or poor, gets the same view of the play.”

“And someone can hopefully put an arrow in Valeena’s forehead.” Ruby dared to daydream for a moment.

“Or yours,” Duffy gave Ruby a suggestive look. “Any objections?”

Arden clapped to draw the troupe’s attention. They all turned to their silent brother. He clenched his right fist and waved over the soft and undisturbed snow at his feet. A single word appeared.

“Pentagon?” Duffy raised an eyebrow.

Arden wrote an addendum.

“Oh, the shape of the stage. Why?”

“Ha, yes, good point. Symmetry. Trying to get a crowd to stand around a circle usually ends up with someone falling off the stage or a barn dance.” The words disappeared and Arden went back to his observations. His calm, placid face odd at ease with the growing confusion and tired expressions of his siblings.

“That’s that sorted, then. Anything else?” Leopold finished off his hip flas and dropped it through the veil into his private vault. His hand re-appeared with a notepad and pencil to make amendments to his to do list.