The Delegation

by Robin Roseau

  “What I said is the truth.”

  “Perhaps, but it is not the complete truth.”

  “No, it’s not. This cultural experience to which I hope to expose you requires a, well, a guide. I am introducing you to choices to serve as that guide. I intend for you to spend more time with Claary as well.”

  “So, I have my choice of the three of you, or perhaps Rishia and Kylia?”

  “No. You have a very wide list of choices, but I am making suggestions from the people most readily available. Rishia and Kylia are not able to serve as guides. If you invite me to do so for you, then Bee and Dee will help me, but they cannot serve as your guides, either.”

  “Will you explain why not?”

  “For now, I will only say she must be someone who you might normally see wearing leather.”

  “It’s some sort of uniform?”

  “It is our traditional clothing,” she replied. “Claary tends to wear leather to make a point, although she looks quite fetching when she does.”

  “I agree.”

  “If there is anyone else you would also like to get to know better, you may tell me, and I will see to it you have time with her. Otherwise your time until we leave will be monopolized by me, Claary, and Lisolte.”

  “So Lisolte didn’t ask me out tomorrow because she is interested in a relationship, but because she is offering to serve as a guide.”

  She sighed. “Are you teasing me?”

  “No.”

  “Lisolte is quite interested in a relationship with you, but it is more complicated than that, and I’m not ready for that conversation. Claary and I are also both interested, although each of us in our own way. Are you offended?”

  “No.” I punctuated my statement by laying my head on her shoulder. “I don’t like ambiguity, and this feels ambiguous.”

  “Have you ever dated a woman before?”

  “No. That isn’t really done here.”

  “You’ve accepted it quite readily.”

  “Yeah. I don’t understand my own reactions.”

  She patted my hand. “Right now, I am guiding you towards the cultural experience. There are different reasons to invite each of us as your guide. Your experience will be different depending upon whom you ask.”

  “Why do I think you aren’t going to explain that?”

  “You are getting to know me well,” she said.

  * * * *

  The performance was an ancient Flarvorian tale set in modern times. We had a theater box above the stage, with an excellent view of the actors, and an especially good view when the leading lady offered a soliloquy from our box. Complete understanding of the story involved knowledge of Flarvorian customs and history that our guests wouldn’t have. And so, Kylia, Rishia, and I were left explaining the importance of this line or that gesture.

  The story ends with the leading lady’s death. That was also done from our box, and through a trick of the lighting, nearly everyone in our box was fooled, as was half the audience. The actress stood on the railing, holding onto a pillar for support. It was subtly done, but I was expecting it, and I thought Rishia and Kylia were as well. I saw when she connected the cables.

  And then it seems like she is shot with an arrow, fired from the opposite side of the theater. There was the twang of the bow, and a flash of light across the intervening distance, and then she spun, an arrow in her chest, and blood drenching her tunic.

  And then, slowly, she fell from the balcony.

  There were screams. Lady Olivia clearly gasped, but Bee and Dee both began crying. Claary and Rishia had to hold them tightly. Down below us, all the actors on stage hurried to the crumpled form, the leading man screaming his grief. From the audience, two people stood, conveniently located in aisle seats, and rushed forward to attend to the victim.

  We watched as she was set aboard a stretcher, and I saw when the “doctor” subtly disengaged the cables that had given her a controlled fall to the stage as the leading man swore his vengeance on the killer.

  And then the curtain fell.

  About half the audience stood and began applauding wildly, and including Rishia, Kylia, and me, although Rishia was hampered, holding Bee.

  “I’ve never seen it done that way,” Kylia said to me. Then she and I looked around, and everyone else was in shock.

  I pulled Olivia to me. “You didn’t see the cables.”

  “Cables?”

  “She clipped herself to cables for the fall.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It was part of the show, Olivia.”

  “But there were doctors.”

  “Actors.”

  Then the curtain came up, and the cast began coming out for their bows. “Just wait,” I said. “She’s going to be last.”

  It took a minute. The leading man stepped out and took his bows to much cheering.

  And then they turned, and in a show of additional drama, the leading lady was carried out on the same stretcher. I thought that was particularly macabre, but they upended the stretcher, setting her on her feet, and the audience went wild in their appreciation.

  Olivia stared, then she turned to Bee and Dee, pointing. I couldn’t hear a word, but the two rushed to the edge of the balcony and stared.

  The actress took her curtsey, then looked up at us. She blew a big kiss and took another curtsey, and then the entire troop exited the stage.

  In our box, Lady Olivia and Claary collected Bee and Dee, both clearly very distraught. The others clustered to us, and it was Bess who turned me to her. “You knew.”

  “This is a traditional show,” I said. “She dies. I haven’t seen it done that way, but I knew she was about to die right here. They changed it, though. It’s usually poison, not an arrow.”

  “She was shot by an arrow.” Her face clouded. “Someone shot an arrow at Lady Olivia!”

  “No, no,” I said. “A trick.”

  “We all saw-”

  “You saw a very good trick,” I said.

  “We all saw!”

  “You heard a bow. You saw a flash of light. You heard the sound of an impact. And then you saw an arrow.”

  “Through her chest!”

  “Can you imagine blowing a kiss after being shot in the chest?”

  “That part was fake.”

  “Her twin, like Bee and Dee? That’s awfully elaborate, Bess.”

  “They picked this box.”

  “An honor,” I said.

  Then Olivia was there, holding Bee tightly to her. “Ms. Cuprite, do you believe you have sufficient authority we could meet that young lady?”

  “I’ll do my best, Duchess, but I can’t promise.”

  “Your best is all I can ask.”

  “I’ll come with you,” Kylia said. “Do you know anyone here?”

  “No.”

  “I know the house manager, if we can find her.”

  It took us ten minutes, and the entire time I was afraid the actors would leave. I wanted to catch them before they could change into street clothes, or I feared Bee and Dee wouldn’t understand it was the same women. But we found Kylia’s friend. They hugged, and then I said, “Lady Olivia would very much appreciate meeting Ms. Chrome, and hopefully before she has time to change out of her most recent costume.”

  “I heard especially loud screams,” the woman replied.

  “Please, Necstra,” Kylia said. “When was the last time you met an actual duchess?”

  “You know, sure. Come with me. Try to keep up.” And then she turned around, and the danger of being left behind was quite distinct. Kylia and I hurried after her, and Necstra was definitely a woman on a mission.

  We found the actress in her dressing room. Necstra knocked and entered, inviting us after her. Ms. Yearly Chrome was removing hairpins and turned to us, her hands frozen mid-depinning.

  “Yearly,” said Necstra. “Care to meet a duchess?”

  “Um. Let me change first?” She wrinkled her nose. She looked past Necstra at Kylia an
d me. “You don’t look like duchesses.”

  “We’re not,” I said. “Your final scene was especially realistic and disturbing.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I believe there are members of Lady Olivia’s entourage that would like to assure themselves you are alive and hale.”

  The woman laughed then said, “You’re serious?”

  “I am,” she said.

  “They understand it’s just a show.”

  “Please.”

  “What’s in it for me?”

  “Seriously?” I asked.

  “Sure. Can’t blame a girl for asking.”

  “You get to meet a duchess.”

  “Pshaw. If you’ve met one, you’ve met them all.” But she hadn’t removed any more hair pins, holding her wig in place.

  “You know you’re not going to say ‘no’,” I announced.

  “I could.”

  “What do you want?”

  “A title.”

  “You can’t be serious.”

  She laughed. “Offer something.”

  “I can’t offer anything on behalf of the duchess, but I believe she would be grateful.”

  “Jewels.”

  “Knock it off, Yearly,” Necstra said. “It’s a duchess.”

  “I know who Lady Olivia is. She’s the one responsible for all those horrible refugees eight years ago. I’m not sure I want to meet her.”

  “You can tell her what you think of her,” I said quickly.

  The woman laughed again. “Really?”

  “If.”

  “Ah, there’s always an if.”

  “There are two members of her group who are very, very sweet, and you will help to calm them down.”

  “Deal.” She stepped forward and said, “What are we waiting for?”

  It was Necstra who led the way, taking us by a back staircase. We found everyone still in our box, and while Bee and Dee had stopped sobbing, they were still each clutching Claary and Olivia.

  “Ms. Chrome,” I said. “You’re not one to kick puppies, are you?”

  “No,” she said. Then she stepped forward and was all smiles. “Duchess. I understand you found my horrible demise somewhat distressing.”

  “Bee,” Olivia said. “Look. You see?”

  Bee looked over her shoulder. And then she nudged Dee, and both of them turned, stared a moment, then ran the five steps to Ms. Chrome.

  She was kind. Both of them immediately began touching her, which she allowed until Dee said, “You’re bleeding,” and tried to touch the drenched tunic.

  “It’s sticky,” Ms. Chrome said, holding Dee’s hand. “It’s a trick. Just a trick.”

  “A trick,” Bee echoed. She caressed Ms. Chrome’s face. “Just a trick?”

  “Just a trick,” she said. “Would you like to see?”

  “Yes,” Dee said.

  “I didn’t bring the arrow. But come.” She led the way to the section of railing where she had stood. She leaned forward and pointed up. “You can’t see, but someone lowers the arrow there. It’s in the shadows, but it’s waiting for me. I grab it when no one is looking.” Then she made a gesture as if she was stabbing herself with the arrow.

  “But you fell.”

  “Necstra,” said Ms. Chrome. “Can someone run the cables back here?” She didn’t wait, but showed the girls where the cables attached. “I drop quickly,” she explained. “But they know how far to let me drop, and it slows me down enough to be safe. I have to be careful or I could twist an ankle, though.”

  At that moment, the cables descended, and she clipped herself in.

  “We would have seen,” Bess said.

  “You didn’t, did you?” said Ms. Chrome.

  “No.”

  “You don’t think I fell from up here, do you.” She pointed. “I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be walking if I had.” She unclipped herself from the cables and released them, letting them swing.

  There was a pause, and then Olivia stepped forward. “You were brilliant, Ms. Chrome. Wasn’t she brilliant, Dee?”

  “I was so scared,” Dee said. “Why did you have to die?”

  “There are a lot of cultural references,” I inserted. “We’ve explained, but we didn’t want to make too much noise.”

  “Ah,” said Ms. Chrome. “You understand I am acting.”

  “Yes,” Dee said. “Make believe.”

  “So, it wasn’t that I died. It was my character that died.”

  “I thought you died,” Bee said. She clutched a little more tightly to Ms. Chrome, then gave her a little hug, but avoided the bloodied tunic. “But I understand now.”

  “I was playing a character, but I wasn’t playing a person, I was playing a persona.”

  “I don’t know what that means.”

  “Actually,” said Olivia. “Neither do I.”

  “This is a complicated show,” Ms. Chrome explained. “There are layers.”

  “We understand about layers,” Olivia said.

  “Like an onion,” Dee suggested.

  “Exactly like an onion. There is the show you see, a love story.”

  “You’re not supposed to die in a love story!”

  “Ah,” she said. “True. And so, it is also a tragedy. That is the outer layer.”

  “And frankly, it’s the only layer I know,” I said. “I don’t attend much theater, I’m afraid.”

  She looked at me. “Even people who attend theater don’t understand all the layers. I’ve done this production three times now, and each time, we talked about different layers.”

  “It’s not the same each time?” Lisolte asked.

  “No. It is up to the director to decide. And no one knows what the original author intended. There are only hints.”

  “What was your persona?” Olivia asked.

  “In this production: innocence.”

  “Oh, no!” Dee said. “The death of innocence!” She reached for Bee, and then they were holding each other while not releasing Ms. Chrome.

  “Just so. And not only the death of innocence, but the murder of innocence.”

  “But who killed you?”

  “Life,” she replied. “Experience. That is why you don’t see who fired the arrow.”

  “I’m not sure I like this show,” Bee said.

  “It is meant to be upsetting and to make you think,” Ms. Chrome replied. “Mine is one of the most coveted roles of modern theater. Oh, there are others that are more coveted, and this isn’t necessarily my favorite.”

  “What is your favorite?”

  She turned to Rishia. “Do you know The Cruel Master?”

  Rishia cocked her head. “I don’t recall any notable female roles. Am I thinking of the wrong show?”

  “No. I want to play the lead.”

  “That’s a man,” Rishia said. She looked at the rest of us. “It isn’t clear who the lead is, the cruel master, until halfway through the show.”

  I knew the show. The cruel master was Death.

  “Then don’t tell us,” Olivia said. She looked back at Ms. Chrome. “Do I understand you would play this part, but as a woman, or as a man?”

  “Definitely as a woman,” Ms. Chrome said. “No one will let me play it.”

  “Do you need permission?”

  “I am only an actress,” she said. “It is the producer and director who decide who will receive which roles.”

  Olivia nodded understanding. “From the title, can I assume the character you would play is not a good person?”

  “You can,” Ms. Chrome replied. “Villains get the best lines.” She smiled broadly, then it faded. “No one ever lets me play the villain. I shouldn’t be offended. They tell me no one would believe in a villain as attractive as I am. That’s hogwash.”

  “You’re very pretty,” Dee said.

  “Thank you, although I meant the prohibition to attractive villains. Everyone always thinks they should be ugly, but the worst villains are the ones who don’t look like one.” She
grinned again. “If I were going to write a show, I would write it with different endings. Each night, the show would have a different villain, so you could never know who it was.”

  Olivia chuckled. “That would keep your audience guessing.”

  “No one would ever do it. Can you imagine? Finding people who can remember one set of lines is bad enough.”

  “Perhaps you should come to Charth,” Olivia suggested. “We have no men, and so women play every role. Although we do not have theater like we have seen tonight. Ms. Chrome, thank you so much for chatting with us. We appreciate it.”

  “It has been my pleasure, Duchess,” she replied. “May I ask? How long will you remain in Barrish?”

  “Another week. This is a cultural exchange.”

  “I imagine every minute of your visit is carefully planned.”

  “Not necessarily. Were you to make a suggestion?”

  “Is your evening, three nights hence, spoken for?”

  “No, actually, it is not.”

  “I am in another performance. This is entirely different. It involves audience participation.” She smiled again. “We would love to include a duchess of Ressaline.”

  Olivia waved an admonishing finger. “I am quite aware I am not universally loved.”

  “Is that a ‘no’? Honestly, we would love to have you. It’s an intimate setting, but we still struggle to fill it.” She gestured around. “I would love to see this many people arrive.”

  “Send us the details,” Olivia said. “We’re staying at The Green Room.”

  “Expect them tomorrow,” Ms. Chrome said. “Thank you for attending our show tonight.” She turned back to Bee and Dee. “I would apologize for scaring you, but I’m not really sorry.”

  “We understand,” Dee said. “Come on, Bee. We have to let her go.”

  “Can’t we keep her?”

  “No,” Dee said. She released her hold on the actress, and then she and Bee stepped back, finding themselves wrapped in Claary’s and Olivia’s arms.

  “I’ll walk you out,” I said to Ms. Chrome, taking her arm. Once we were clear of the box, I turned her towards me and spoke quietly. “If they come, the duchess can hold her own, but if you hurt Bee and Dee, she won’t be the only one you annoy.”

  “I don’t kick puppies,” she said, using my phrase from earlier. “They’re very cute.”

  “They are,” I said.