Playing to the Gods

by Melanie Rawn

  “Derien?”

  “Attending Miriuzca. Don’t look so surprised!” Rafe laughed. “He’s full young yet, but he and Megs between them are weeding out those she ought to see from those who just want to see her. I predict a brilliant future for him as her primary councilor of state—after he’s old enough to legally buy a drink.”

  “Then Megs is—”

  “Fine,” Mieka said. “Once she was certain sure Miriuzca was all right—this is, you understand, after the curtain came crashing down with a noise like six dozen shattered window walls, and everybody saw what was up onstage, and the Fae left, and you fell over, and all that sort of thing—” Pause for breath. “—she sort of wilted. Dery sent word that she slept for ten hours and woke up good as new.”

  “I’m glad.” Cade watched Mieka grin from ear to ear. “What?” he demanded.

  “Oh, nothin’.”

  “All right, then.” Hitching himself higher against the pillows, he asked, “What were you thinking, slashing through that barrier?”

  Mieka didn’t answer directly. “It wasn’t destructive things that got poor Pirro in the end, y’know.”

  “I know.”

  “You do?”

  It would sound sappy if he put words to it—but words and what they meant to him had got him out of that encounter with skin and brain intact. He could scarcely scorn them now. He took refuge in something Mieka had said last night. “All Black Lightning knew was how to evoke fear. Hate. Shame for being born anything but Wizard or Elfen. I made that mistake myself, y’know, when I countered their fire-breathing dragon by icing him up like the Pennynines in a snowstorm. That worked, but it wouldn’t have for much longer. You’re right, Mieka, it was the opposite of what they were spewing through the theater that defeated them.”

  Rafe nodded and got to his feet. “We’ll go see about that lunching, shall we?” He collected Jeska with a glance, and they left the bedchamber.

  Cade had known them all long enough to know that Mieka had something he wanted to say and the other two had left so he could say it. Cayden relaxed into the pillows and arched a brow at him.

  “Yeh, about Pirro…” He shifted uncomfortably at the foot of Cade’s bed. “I don’t know what sort of thorn he was using, but—he wasn’t anything I recognized. And it wasn’t as if he was doing this on his own. Thierin was using him like—like he was a living, breathing withie, naught but magic that he gave him. It wasn’t even his own magic. It was all Thierin’s.”

  “Maybe it wasn’t thorn,” Cade mused. “Maybe that sort of magic, all that power, is a thrall in itself. And Pirro wanted more. Couldn’t help himself.” There would be a certain dark glory in it, he supposed.

  “Maybe so. Towards the end there, I felt him reaching out. Pathetic, really. Some tiny crumb of him was still there and wanted to feel something—anything—other than what Thierin had put in those withies.”

  “And did you?”

  “Did I what?”

  “Provide.”

  One shoulder hitched in an embarrassed shrug. “Kind of. I guess. I tried to. There was an awful lot to work with, once I explained to everybody what was needed. Longbranch and everybody, they put everything they had into those withies, and then used them to back up what I was doing with the knife—How did you…” He searched Cade’s eyes and trailed off. “Never mind. Tell me some other time. Anyways, first I concentrated on just a section of it, so I could hack my way through—”

  “That sword was nicely done, by the way.”

  “Knottinger believed it, and that’s what counted. Though I had to get in close, to make sure the sharp part caught him. I wanted to take his whole arm, but I didn’t dare risk it.” He pleated an edge of the blanket. “Quill … what was the point of all this?”

  “To make everyone in the audience love and adore Cyed Henick.” When Mieka snorted, Cade insisted, “No, think about it. Everybody who’s anything other than Wizard or Elf hated themselves. They’d do anything not to feel that anymore. Black Lightning had found a way to identify all the magical races—”

  “The colors!” Mieka exclaimed.

  “Exactly. And once they knew who was what, there’d be a specific magic to change them—I’ve forgotten what word Emmot used, or maybe it was the Archduke, but it doesn’t matter. The goal was to make everybody support him as King. They’d never question him. Never gainsay him. Because they’d love him. Everyone would obey, and willingly, because it would never occur to them to doubt him.” He saw Mieka shudder. “He said that I’d do just what he wanted, tell him about the Elsewhens whenever he asked, and like it.”

  There was a small silence. Then Mieka said firmly, “Well, he’s dead. Pity he took so many people with him.”

  “I feel sorry for King Meredan.”

  “Feel sorrier for the Queen. The last of her life with him, she hated him for everything he was.”

  “Somebody ought to tell her that wasn’t her fault.”

  “We can talk it over with Miriuzca. Oh—almost forgot! Dery said that Megs was approached by the Stewards and I’ve a feeling Miri will make her Chief Steward so she can reorganize and retrain everybody.”

  Cade nodded. “She’ll enjoy that! Might be a good idea to have a Steward at every performance, not just at Seekhaven, but out on the Circuits. Just to be safe. The Lord and Lady only know what Black Lightning might’ve got up to, these last couple of years. Experimenting on their audiences, preparing for last night.”

  “We can talk about that, too. Miriuzca wants to see us at the Castle tonight for dinner, if you’re recovered enough.”

  “I’m fine. I’m not sure what happened to me just before that moonglade, though.”

  Mieka took a moment to consider his answer. “I’ve never seen anybody who looked like he was made of glass, but you did. I thought if I gave you something familiar…” He finished with a shrug.

  It hadn’t been just the sight of it that was familiar. It was the word itself. Moonglade was home. Where he was safe. Where he belonged.

  Cade searched Mieka’s face. This was not the broken man Cade had seen in the worst dreams—for even the death dreams weren’t as bad as seeing Mieka destroyed. This was his lively, laughing, mad and clever little Elf, strong and confident. No, more than strong: powerful. He knew himself. He knew his own worth. He knew that he could face up to any fear. He would still play the jokester, and he would still drive them all to distraction with his pranks. But he was more than that, infinitely more, and he knew it. As for the magic … it glimmered from him, shining in his eyes, practically glowing on his skin.

  Rafe and Jeska came in with trays of food and drink. After arranging one on Cade’s bed and the other on the desk, chairs were dragged over and a lavish lunching began.

  All at once Rafe asked, “Seen much of anything lately?”

  The casual question interrupted him in mid-swallow. He coughed slightly, then said, “No. Why?”

  “Well, it’s just that it kind of occurred to me … to us, I mean…” He sighed, impatient with himself, and started again. “None of this showed up, did it? Nothing of what happened last night. Because you didn’t have anything to do with it.”

  “I beg your pardon!”

  Jeska held up a placating hand. “That’s not what he meant. It took all of us, Cayden. Not just you alone. It was you and me and Rafe and Mieka, Hawk’s Claw and Crystal Sparks—”

  “Megs and Baltryn,” Rafe contributed.

  “And the Fae,” Mieka finished.

  “And the Harpy,” Cade said.

  “I swear that I’ll never call your mother that again,” Mieka said fervently.

  “I should think not,” Rafe drawled. “Lady Jaspiela likes her meat fully cooked.”

  Cade felt queasy. “D’you honestly think the Harpy—? I mean, did Black Lightning—?”

  “—become dinner?” Mieka supplied brightly.

  Jeska set down his fork and scowled. “I’ll make you regret that, I swear I will.”

  “
She spat out Cyed Henick,” Cade said. “Didn’t like Emmot much, either. Though the faerie dragons made a feast of them both.”

  Jeska pointed a long finger at him. “No. Not a word more.” He turned to Mieka. “From either of you!”

  Cade laughed. This, too, was where he was supposed to be. So easy, so welcome, to think of spending the rest of his life like this: laughing, sniping, discussing, arguing, traveling the Kingdom’s stages, all in service to their creativity and their unequaled performances. It occurred to him then that last night they’d given perhaps their greatest performance to date, without ever formally taking the stage.

  Which reminded him of something he wanted to ask Mieka. “How did you convince Thierin that it was a real sword?”

  “Quill. Old thing.” Making a face of infinite tolerance, he asked, “How long ago did I save your sorry asses that night in Gowerion?”

  “Nine years, and I could quibble a bit with your interpretation, but what’s that to do with—”

  “Nine years. Do I really have to remind you after nine years that on that night you joined up with the best and finest and cleverest and gorgeous-est glisker in Albeyn?”

  Jeska threw a buttered muffin at him. Rafe rolled his eyes. Mieka smiled sweetly. Cade looked at each of them in turn. The rest of his life, just like this … with grayer hair, of course, and in his case much less hair … he had the feeling that whatever the Elsewhens might show him from now on would have their basis in this moment. He laughed again, and poured them all another cup of tea.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Seriously, now—how could books about theater not include a deus ex machina?

  There is a nagging temptation when writing an Author’s Note to address various things brought up by readers (Yeah, they do cuss quite a bit. But who’d believe these guys were nineteen years old if their strongest language was,“Well, fooey”?). For the most part, however, it is not a good idea to comment. The books ought to stand on their own—or, as Robert Redford succinctly puts it, “Do the work, and move on.”

  I am muchly beholden to Russ Galen, Danny Baror, Beth Meacham, Laurie Rawn, Gena Lang, Jim and Tracy Taylor, BJ Doty and Primus St. John, Rodney and Jeane Relleve Caveness, and Ellen Browning Scripps.

  Please visit my website at www.melanierawn.com. Good folks there, to whom I am also beholden.

  Moving on now.

  DRAMATIS PERSONAE

  (most of them, anyway)

  BELLGLOSS, MASTER purveyor of thorn

  BLACKPATH

  ALAEN lutenist

  BRIULY Alaen’s cousin; lutenist

  BOWBENDER

  AIRILIE Jeska’s daughter

  JESCHENAR masquer, Touchstone

  KAZIE Jeska’s wife

  CHALLENDER, MIRKO tregetour, Crystal Sparks

  COLDKETTLE, LORD Prince Ashgar’s private secretary

  CROWKEEPER, HERRIS fettler, Black Lightning

  CZILLAG

  CHATTIM glisker, the Shadowshapers

  DESHENANDA his wife

  DAGGERING, LEDERRIS masquer, Crystal Sparks

  EASTKEEPING

  LORD KELINN Vrennerie’s husband

  LADY VRENNERIE lady-in-waiting to Princess Miriuzca

  EMMOT, SAGEMASTER Cade’s teacher, now retired

  FAIRWALK, LORD KEARNEY Touchstone’s manager

  FLUTER, TOBALT reporter, The Nayword

  GOLDBRAIDER

  VERED tregetour and masquer, the Shadowshapers

  BEXAN Vered’s wife

  GRAINER

  CHIRENE Sakary’s wife

  SAKARY fettler, the Shadowshapers

  HENICK

  CYED Archduke

  PANSHILARA his wife, the Archduchess

  HIGHCOLLAR

  LORD ISSHAK Lady Jaspiela’s father

  LADY KIRITIN Lady Jaspiela’s mother; born Blackswan

  KEVELOCK, RAUEL tregetour and masquer, the Shadowshapers

  KNOTTINGER, THIERIN tregetour, Black Lightning

  LONGBRANCH, TRENAL tregetour, Hawk’s Claw

  MINDBENDER, MEGUERIS lady-in-waiting to Princess Miriuzca

  MISTRESS CAITIFFER Mieka’s mother-in-law

  MISTRESS GESHA Trollwife at Shellery House

  MISTRESS LUTA Trollwife in Seekhaven

  MISTRESS MIRDLEY Trollwife at Redpebble Square

  MISTRESS TOLA Trollwife; friend of Mistress Mirdley’s

  MISTRESS WINGDOVE innkeeper in Lilyleaf; “Croodle”

  NEEDLER, ROMUALD the Shadowshapers’ manager

  OAKAPPLE, LORD distant cousin of the Blackpaths

  PIERCEHAND, LORD ROLON owner of Castle Eyot, compulsive collector

  ROBEL Yazz’s wife, part Giant

  SEAMARK, KAJ masquer, Black Lightning

  SILVERSUN

  CADRIEL Zekien’s father, Master Fettler

  CAYDEN tregetour, Touchstone

  DERIEN Cade’s younger brother

  LADY JASPIELA Cade and Dery’s mother; born Highcollar

  ZEKIEN their father

  SPANGLER, PIRRO glisker, Black Lightning

  STAINDROP, BRISHEN Mishia’s sister

  TAWNYMOOR, LORD Princess Iamina’s husband

  THREADCHASER

  CRISIANT Rafe’s wife; born Bramblecotte

  RAFCADION fettler, Touchstone

  MISTRESS Rafe’s mother

  MASTER Rafe’s father; baker

  WARRINGHEATH, MASTER owner of the Kiral Kellari

  WINDTHISTLE

  BARSABIAS Hadden’s great-uncle; “Uncle Breedbate”

  BLYE Jed’s wife; born Cindercliff; glasscrafter

  CILKA Mieka’s sister

  HADDEN Mieka’s father

  JEDRIS Jez’s twin brother

  JEZAEL Mieka’s brother

  JINSIE Mieka’s twin sister

  JINDRA Mieka’s daughter

  JORIE Tavier’s twin sister

  MIEKA glisker, Touchstone

  MISHIA Mieka’s mother; born Staindrop

  MISTRESS WINDTHISTLE Mieka’s wife; born Caitiffer

  PETRINKA Cilka’s twin sister

  SHARADEL Hadden’s great-grandmother; born Snowminder

  TAVIER Mieka’s youngest brother

  YAZZ Touchstone’s coachman; part Giant

  The Royals

  ASHGAR Prince; heir to the throne

  IAMINA Princess; King Meredan’s younger sister

  MEREDAN King of Albeyn

  MIRIUZCA Princess; Ashgar’s wife

  ROSHIEN Queen of Albeyn

  GLOSSARY

  aflunters in a state of disorder; discombobulated

  agroof flat on your face

  backspang a tricky evasion

  blodder to flow with a gurgling sound

  bonce head

  brach a hound bitch

  breedbate someone who likes to start arguments or stir up quarrels

  bully-rook a bragging cheater

  caitiff witch

  carkanet necklace

  chavish the sound of many birds chirping or singing at once; the sound of many people chattering at once

  clinquant glittering

  clumperton clownish, clumsy lout

  cogger false flatterer; charming trickster

  Consecreations, the consecrate collided with creation; the local holy book

  crambazzle worn-out, dissipated old man

  cullion rude, disagreeable, mean-spirited person

  fliting an exchange of invective, abuse, or mockery, especially one in verse set forth between two poets

  frustle to shake out and exhibit plumage

  giddiot “giddy” and “idiot”

  ginnel a narrow passage between buildings

  glunsh to devour food in hasty, noisy gulps; by extension, a glutton

  grinagog person with a stupid, gaping grin

  grouk become gradually enlivened after waking up

  hindering a warding put on an individual’s magic so it cannot be used

  kagged mutilated Elfen ears


  naffter stupid person

  pantomancer person who sees omens in all events

  pillicock idiot

  poofter silly, effeminate man

  quakebuttock (aw, come on—isn’t it obvious?)

  quat a pimple; used in contempt of a person

  quod jail

  quoob eccentric fool

  stitch up frame

  tiring room from retire; a private chamber

  yark vomit

  TOR BOOKS BY MELANIE RAWN

  Spellbinder

  Fire Raiser

  THE GLASS THORNS SERIES

  Touchstone

  Elsewhens

  Thornlost

  Window Wall

  Playing to the Gods

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  MELANIE RAWN is the three-time Locus Award–nominated author of the bestselling Dragon Prince trilogy, the Dragon Star trilogy, and the Glass Thorns series, including Touchstone, Elsewhens, Thornlost, and Window Wall. She graduated from Scripps College with a B.A. in history and has worked as a teacher and editor. Rawn lives in Flagstaff, Arizona. You can sign up for email updates here.

  Thank you for buying this

  Tom Doherty Associates ebook.

  To receive special offers, bonus content,

  and info on new releases and other great reads,

  sign up for our newsletters.

  Or visit us online at

  us.macmillan.com/newslettersignup

  For email updates on the author, click here.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Copyright Notice

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21