Chapter 2)
The Dog and Trumpet was a tavern and very cheap inn. Since the beer was relatively cheap, not too awful and the food decent it was a favored gathering place of out of work actors, bards in between engagements and less dangerous rogues. Even Silverymoon princes in self imposed exile were forced to economize after a time. And certainly theatre owners whose heels had just been roasted by an irate moneylender could afford no better. Thus Tredorian, once of Silverymoon, and Henslowe owner of The Rose, entered and sat down, each in differing degrees of emotional exhaustion.
Tredorian glumly stared into his mug and shook his head. He was acutely conscious of a very footsore Henslowe calling out that he needed actors. When the name of the play was announced he cringed. "Romeo and Ethel the Pirate's Daughter!"
Henslowe sat down next to him. "Why so glum? Why the gloom and doom? You'll have the king himself laughing at your comedy soon." He regarded Tredorian in alarm. "You have finished it haven't you?" The nervous man grabbed the younger man's shoulder. "Please!" He pleaded. "Fenneyman roasted my heels over a burning brazier today! The only way I kept my person intact was to offer him a share of the play. Your play. All my actors are out playing the innyards of the provinces. And we are reduced to stammering boys playing the part of women."
Tredorian grimaced in sympathy at this last woe. It was the lament of every playwright, actor and theatre owner. Well educated women, even low born girls, any female of good reputation did not become actresses. The writer groaned as his nimble mind elaborated on the problem. The type of female who could be taught to be a good actress was precisely the same female who would never set foot onstage. While the prejudice against lady bards had faded somewhat the label of 'actress' still carried the stigma of a fallen woman. The fact that many of the women who trod the boards did so to advertise their charms did nothing to discourage such thinking.
Henslowe took a deep breath. "Tredorian, where is my play?"
"Safely locked in here." Tredorian took another gulp of wine as he tapped his forehead.
"Locked?" Henslowe looked alarmed. "But the auditions!"
"Have them tomorrow." Tredorian told him. "I'll have pages for you by then." He took another gulp of wine.
"Very well." Henslowe shrugged. He stood up in his chair again, "The auditions will be held tomorrow morning. Prepare your speeches, and prepare yourselves to become known players!" Sitting down again he clapped Tredorian on the shoulder. "Who knows, maybe tomorrow you'll find Romeo." He shrugged again. "Well I to my theatre, and my prayers." He took a deep breath as if bracing himself for disappointment and left.
Asrai stepped aside as a rather worried looking older man with a beard and mussed hair exited the inn. Standing inside the doorway she looked about and saw an empty chair near a handsome young man at the bar. Quickly she walked towards it, listening as she went to the conversation that rose and fell like the waves of the ocean. It all seemed to concern the theatre and the new play at The Rose.
Tredorian rolled his eyes as Henslowe walked away. A soft voice at his elbow was almost drowned out by the crash of a chair. Turning he saw a pretty child rather pink-cheeked as she righted the seat she'd overturned. "Your pardon sir," She said in such a soft voice he could barely hear her. "You are an actor?"
Tredorian shook his head morosely. "Worse still. I'm a writer who acts when I have no choice." He took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
"You are writing a play sir?" Dark violet eyes gleamed with excitement. "What is it called?" A slender white hand pushed thick gold curls out of her face impatiently. Even the bartender looked interested.
"Romeo and Ethel The Pirate's Daughter." Tredorian got it out in a rush and winced at the look on both their faces. "I know, I know." He groaned again.
"What is it about?" The girl asked curiously, leaning forward and nearly falling off her chair again. At the hesitant look on his face she glanced at the bartender. "Give him another mug of wine." Tredorian shook his head and she put down a piece of gold. "I insist." There was something in her tone that brooked no argument, even in such a soft voice.
The man nodded and plunked down a mug, pouring more wine. "You haven't written a thing have you?" He said knowingly. "I've seen that look before, everyone gets it sometimes."
Tredorian sighed. "It's not for lack of trying." He said defensively. "I'm wearing out my quills writing garbage."
The girl frowned thoughtfully. "Well, Romeo sounds…southern. Not quite, but perhaps a forgotten land to the south? Verona?" She suggested. "A young man…always in and out of love?"
"Hmm…" Tredorian nodded. "Until he meets?"
"Ethel, the daughter of his enemy." The innkeeper suggested. When they both looked at him he shrugged. "It sounds good to me."
Tredorian grinned briefly, "To myself as well."
"And for guidance Romeo turns to Mercutio, his best friend, who gets killed by…" The young girl continued the miniature tale they'd begun.
"Mercutio…good name." Tredorian murmured.
"It's...an old one." Violet eyes grew darker as she frowned slightly. Shrugging she tilted her head. "So?" She regarded him. "Then what happens?"
"Come to the play and see." Tredorian grinned. "You can watch with me from backstage."
She grinned back at him, "I just might do that sir." She turned to the bartender, "I need a room for the night."
"You're going to stay here?" Tredorian looked at her more closely, "Are you certain that's wise?" She appeared to be a very lovely albeit young child, "Where are your parents?"
She nearly fell off her chair again as she turned to regard him in irritation. "I am quite capable of defending myself." Tredorian could see now a long slender blade at her hip. It didn't seem to clash with her gentle soft voice strangely enough. She said crisply, with that same commanding tone to her soft voice. "And my parents are where they belong, at home."
"I've a good snug room, right over the kitchen." The bartender promised. "Its warm and none of the other guests will bother you miss."
"That sounds wonderful." She handed him several gold pieces. "If I help in the kitchen can I have my meals there too?"
"Dinner is included with the room, but if you help the cook in the morning, you can have breakfast too." He bargained.
"More than fair." She pushed her hair out of her eyes and grinned at him. Turning to Tredorian she said. "See?"
The writer shrugged. "See you at the play." He grinned and the sudden fever that lit his eyes made both the girl and the bartender blink. "I've got a scene." He breathed with a fervor. "I'm off." He nearly ran out of the bar.
Dawn as it broke over the capital brought with it a strange sense of foreboding to the younger prince. Sebastian lay in his bed with a slight frown creasing his face thoughtfully. The door opened quietly and he erased any sign of concern from his face as he began to prepare for the day.
Asrai woke as the rooster the innkeeper kept for his chickens crowed loudly and immediately sprang from her bed and then nearly tripped in the small space. There were auditions today for a new play and work to do in the kitchens. A wide grin spread her lips as she stuffed her long rippling gold locks under a cap. Today she had a chance at her dreams.
Sebastian took a deep breath as he entered the breakfast room. Andreas was there along with their parents. None of the Obarskyr daughters were in evidence though Andreas' Watcher Darew was also present.
"Sebastian." His mother's smile was warm in her usually reserved face. Only her family saw how loving and gentle the queen could be, apart from a very few close friends who had known her of old.
"Momma," Sebastian's bow over her hand and kiss upon her cheek was no less respectful and adoring for all they were habitual. "Father." The king nodded his dark sapphire eyes brightening to twin his younger son's as Sebastian clasped his sire's hand.
"You're up and about rather early aren't you?" Andreas inquired. "I thought I'd be sparring with only Darew for company."
"Sorry to disappoint." Sebastian accorded his brother a correctly ironic bow. "I've been awake since dawn.
His mother's usually astute gaze sharpened slightly and she glanced at her husband. Amon focused his gaze on Sebastian to the point where anyone but a family member would have begun to squirm in their seat. "Sebastian what have you been up to?" The king inquired striving to keep his voice even as he recalled some of the occasions in the past that had warranted such a question. Sebastian's pursuits were nothing if not hair-raising.
"Do you know where Asrai Aelaitha is?" Sebastian asked the four of them, drawing a blink from his mother and a negative shake of Darew's head.
"Probably in her room reading poetry." Andreas shrugged. "I haven't seen her since the day before yesterday.
Sebastian shot him an annoyed and bored look. "That doesn't surprise me at all after the set down you gave her." He said dryly. "She's doing just what you demanded, leaving you alone." He looked back at his parents, his usually relaxed expression intensely serious. "I cannot find her. Do you know where she is?"
Amon regarded his second son soberly. "Can I assume that when you say you cannot find her you have had the entire palace and Court searched?" He asked. At Sebastian's impatient nod he looked at his wife. "Then it appears she is not here, unless you gave her permission to leave the palace?"
Sabine shook her head her eyes now dark with worry. "No love, she hasn't approached me since yesterday afternoon, and then it was only in preparation for Court." She went over the rest of the day in her mind and shook her head again. "If she is not within the confines of the grounds then she has left without informing either of us." She looked at her husband. "I fear we will need to speak with Raden, about her ring."
Amon nodded, his expression grim as he began to rise from the table. The head of dual guilds neither of which the nobility would tolerate for a moment Raden was both the Assassin Master, and SpyMaster, and as such more than once had saved the lives of the Royal Family, even back in Alusair's days. The fact that the Queen herself had once been a protégé of Raden, and his lover, was something no one in the noble families were aware of. These days, it took a great deal to worry Amon and Sabine to the point where they traveled to the frontier city of Eagle Peake to speak with Raden. But if their baby girl was missing, there was no better man to alleviate their concerns than the half elven Assassin/Spy Master.
Asrai entered the theatre, a rather large, blocky building more reminiscent of a warehouse than anything else. Looking around she could see dozens of men, and several boys, all speaking in various tones of voice. It seemed as if they were all practicing the same speech, some better than others.
Timidly she tugged on the arm of one of the men, a balding gentleman with a stoop to his shoulders. "Please sir, must we all do the same speech?" She asked hoping it wasn't so. Her prayers were granted for he shook his head quickly. "What speech are you doing then?" Her curiosity got the better of her.
"F…F…Faustus." The man stuttered as he spoke, forcing the words past an unwilling tongue.
"Really?" Asrai looked around the room, mentally placing the speech and realized it was one of Marlowe's. She rolled her eyes before turning back to the stutterer. "I'm Asrai." She grinned offering her hand.
"W…Wabash." He took her hand and shook it with a firm grip. "Pleasure t…t…to meet you."
"And you sir." She smiled and looked around a bit more.
Across the room she saw the writer she'd met the night before speaking with two other gentlemen. One of them was dressed almost completely in black and had a sour look on this face. The other seemed extremely nervous and mentally she placed him as the man she'd seen exiting the Dog and Trumpet the night before. The one in black began bellowing.
"All right you lot!" He shouted impatiently. "Actors are a copper a dozen, and I'll have no foolishness about all this. Get in a line and no impertinence!" As if on cue the doors at the back of the theatre were flung open and there was a great shout.
In amazement Asrai watched as a troupe of men led by a dark piratical charismatic man entered. "Huzzah! The Admiral's Men have returned to the Rose!" He shouted.
Tredorian and the nervous man gave a shout of recognition and went forward. From her place in the shadows Asrai heard them say. "Ned, your timing is perfect as always."
"Of course." The actor shrugged arrogantly and smiled. "Henslowe it's about time you got Tredorian to write for you." Asrai blinked and realized that this must be the famous Ned Alleyn. Doing her best to keep from staring she studied him. Ever since she was a very young girl she'd been attending Ned's performances. He was said to be one of the greatest actors of modern times and that he'd been offered a great deal of money to join companies in Waterdeep. It was said that Ned Alleyn preferred the sophisticated and civilized tastes of the Cormyrean citizens and that he'd refused any offer that would take him from Cormyr. Watching him Asrai decided she liked him a great deal in spite of the arrogance with which he walked and spoke. He loved to entertain, and there was a great deal of that in his bearing.
"Who is this?" The man in black who still stood on the stage blustered.
"Silence you dog!" Ned strode forward sliding his sword out of its sheath and then letting it fall back with a ring. Asrai laughed at the expression on the other man's face. "I am Blackstaff. I am Tambourlaine. I am Azoun." He gave Tredorian a slight bow. "Yes Master Tredorian, I am Piergernon." He spread his arms now that he was onstage, clearly in his element. "What is the play and what is my part?"
"I'm needing a Romeo rather badly." Tredorian said with a sigh of relief. He glanced at the rest of the troupe. "Also a Mercutio is sadly wanted."
"Good names." Ned mused in spite of himself.
"A moment sir." Asrai shook her head, the man in black seemed to think the stage was still his. Ned disabused him of that notion with a roar.
"Who are you!" He turned furiously to the man.
"Fenneyman." The man in black nearly bleated. "I'm the money."
Ned seemed mollified. "Ah, then you may remain, so long as you remain silent. Pay attention and you will see genius in the making."
Henslowe was greeting the rest of the actors and his gaze fell on a very young man with a pretty face. "Sam, my delicate flower." He teased. "Ready to fall in love again?"
Sam grinned at him and nodded. "That I am sir." He replied his voice gruff.
"Sam!" Henslowe spoke in horrified accents. "Your voice!"
"Give over Henslowe." A slender blonde man shook his head. "He's caught a miserable cold."
"But will he be ready in three weeks to play Ethel?" Henslowe asked worriedly. "Its all well for you to say 'Give over Henslowe', but you're not dealing with Mr. Fenneyman are you Nicholas Tooley!"
The actor shook his head. "He'll be fine. It will all turn out well."
Henslowe groaned as his own words were returned to him and looked over at Tredorian., "Shall we begin?"
Author's Note: So the Admiral's Men are back... wonder what Ned will think of little Asrai?