Heir's Revenge

Chapter 2

2

DURING THE REST of the meeting they managed to avoid the subject of the play’s final scene. There was plenty to discuss that did not divide opinions, so it didn’t matter. Ellisandra was convinced that if she turned up with a clear stage plan, the others would see that she was right. People would be shocked, and they would see that war was horrible and would be grateful that Miran was a much kinder place these days. They were no longer at war, so they could afford to be.

The women divided the workload within the committee.

As usual, Ellisandra would look after the building of stage props, Tolaki would deal with the cast, Aleyo would handle advertising and sales, as well as the music, and that left Sariandra with the job of costumes, which, she said in a quiet voice, suited her because she had done some dressmaking.

Ellisandra told her sternly, “You are supposed to buy the fabrics and decide what needs to be made and in what style. The actual making of the costumes is not your job. It’s that of the seamstresses.”

Sariandra nodded, wide-eyed.

When the meeting was over, Ellisandra asked Tolaki if she would like to stay for a chat, but Tolaki shook her head. “I can’t, I’m sorry. I told my mother that I’d help her with the guest list for the wedding.”

The guest list, of course, had to be written out by hand by a calligrapher, and seeing as so few people still took calligraphy education, calligraphers were expensive and hard to get, so anyone with any artistic ability did it themselves. Tolaki was quite handy with a pen and ink.

She met Ellisandra’s eyes, and Ellisandra cringed inside. That wedding that had her friend in a flap was her wedding to Tolaki’s brother Jaeron.

She smiled awkwardly. She shouldn’t forget how big a deal it was for Tolaki’s family to marry into the only Foundation family still left in Miran. Some people still thought that kind of thing was important, even though the Foundation families had mostly lost their status.

“I’ll be so happy once you live in our house,” Tolaki said, touching Ellisandra’s shoulder.

Ellisandra thought, Only until you get married yourself and she would be left by herself in the house with people she barely knew: Jaeron and his parents.

What would it be like, to be alone in a bedroom with an adult man she barely knew who had only one thing on his mind? What would it be like to be undressed by him and touched in places where no light ever came?

She had agreed to marry Jaeron far too long ago, back when she wore her hair in tails and getting married seemed so far away that it would certainly never happen.

She had chosen Jaeron because of the nifty posy of flowers he had given her, a round ball of pinks with occasional white ones, which seemed an utterly stupid reason to determine who she’d live with as adult.

Father, of course, had chosen the candidates, and they were all from families he approved of. The choice she’d been given, facing three terrified young boys in the official dining room downstairs, was a farce.

She’d been too young by many years to make that kind of decision.

What if she hated being married? What if she hated him? Would she be like the embittered wife of Midnight Folly, carrying a hammer around the house in case her husband became violent when he returned home late at night?

Aleyo left with Tolaki, and Ellisandra and Sariandra watched both of them striding down the veranda steps and disappearing into the snowy night.

Ellisandra drew her cloak closer around her. Tonight would be a cold one. Already, her breath steamed in the night air and the long winter hadn’t even started properly.

The light from the street lamp just outside the gate cast Sariandra’s face in sharp relief. She was fiddling with something in her pocket that produced a bluish glow that silvered her fur mittens, sleeves and her face.

“What’s that?” Ellisandra asked.

Sariandra showed her the thing. It was a disk-shaped object made from brushed metal, rounded and flat, and it fitted neatly in her mittened hand. Apart from the oval screen, it had three dark-coloured buttons, all marked with foreign characters printed underneath in fluorescent paint. Coldi, she thought. They wrote from right to left.

It was odd that Sariandra would have this. The council went out of its way to make it clear that they frowned upon imported things, especially Coldi-made technology. Why would the High Councillor’s daughter be using this?

“This is how I let my father know that the meeting has finished.”

“Does that go straight to the Exchange?”

“It does. See here.” She pressed something and the tiny screen came up with the text Miran Exchange Local Network. In Mirani. That was something at least.

“Is there a local network for everyone? I thought only Traders used it, and only with special permission.”

“There is a network. It’s not used a lot, mostly because you can’t get the readers anywhere in Miran.”

No, she bet not, because imports of off-world technology were severely restricted with the boycotts. Other entities of gamra would rather die than sell technology to Miran. Miran would rather die than admit it couldn’t make the technology within its borders and allow imports.

“My father gave this to me so that I can let him know where I am. He will of course replace it with a Mirani-made device once when we start making them.” She looked prim, as if she believed what she said. How old was she?

“Is it necessary to let him know where you are every moment of the day?”

“It’s so that he can come to pick me up. The streets are not very safe for a girl walking alone at night.”

True. “But you could have walked with Tolaki and Aleyo.”

“They don’t live in the same street.”

“No, but they live close.”

“My father prefers me to be absolutely safe. There are robbers and maramarang after dark.”

How odd. The streets were not that unsafe. Yes, there were robbers, but not so much in the Endri quarter of the city. It used to be much worse, but the council had sent a big group of vagrants to work on farms near the coast where they wouldn’t be in anyone else’s way.

There were maramarang at night, too, lurking on the rooftops and peering down with their beady little eyes and flapping and stretching their wings. However, they didn’t normally come down to street level until everyone had gone to bed and the streets lay deserted. They were more interested in raiding rubbish bins and attacking inert people, like sleeping beggars, than moving ones. It wasn’t that late yet.

Sariandra slid the thing back into her pocket.

Very strange.

After an uncomfortable silence, Ellisandra asked, “So, what did you think of the first meeting? Do you think this is something you would like to continue doing?”

Sariandra nodded. “If my father says it’s all right.”

“Isn’t working with the theatre what almost every Endri woman does? Or music, or teaching? Your father should have no problem with that.”

“I guess not . . .” She sounded hesitant.

What was it with this father of hers? Did she need approval for everything?

“Do come to the meeting tomorrow. We’ll talk about costumes and we need someone to sort through all the actors’ individual text sheets. I don’t know when this play was last taken off the shelf, but usually after a play has had its last performance, the actors return their texts, and they get piled into a mess that’s badly out of order and may have parts missing. We need to sort through and make sure that each actor gets the right text.”

Sariandra nodded, still wide-eyed.

“If you have any trouble with the costuming, let me know, and I can find someone to help you.”

“I know a fair bit about traditional dresses. I worked for merchant Ranuddin until the shop closed.” Until the man’s prices caught up with his business, his age caught up with him and no one in his family wanted to continue the business.

“I never saw you in the shop.”

“No, I was in his work room at the back. As seamstress.”

That seemed an unusual position for an Endri girl, but never mind.

From the darkness at the edge of the yard came the familiar squeak that signified the opening of the main gate.

Sariandra peered into the snowy night. “That’s my father.”

The High Councillor himself? Even if he thought it necessary for his daughter to be picked up, why didn’t he send one of the domestic staff?

The figure that crossed the yard was certainly tall enough to be Asitho Bisumar, and when he was closer to the house he proved that Sariandra was right. He came up the veranda in large strides, stomping the snow off his boots and then nodding to Ellisandra as he entered the pool of light that surrounded the lamp at the front door. “Good evening, lady.”

“Good evening, High Councillor.”

He wore his High Councillor cloak with golden chain and glittering medallions that denoted several orders and positions in government. His face was narrow, even for an Endri, and his nose long and straight. Ellisandra was unsure of his age, but his hair had gone past that stage where you couldn’t be certain if it was still blond or had lost its colour. It was pure white, neatly combed and trimmed at the ends.

He smiled to his daughter. “Enjoy yourself?”

“Yes, I get to look after all the pretty stage dresses.”

Ellisandra hadn’t quite broken to her that the dresses from that period were not very glamorous. Coming out of the invasion war, the people back then had no access to pretty dyes from the coast, and the designs were usually drab and functional.

Asitho patted his daughter’s shoulder. “I’m sure you’ll do well. Changing Fate is an impressive play, and I’m sure you’ll do it justice.” His very pale blue eyes met Ellisandra’s. “You know, the last time it was performed, I was a youngster and fancied myself an actor. I applied to be cast as Jihan Ilendar, but they let my cousin have it. I guess I’m still not over that. The selectors probably did Miran a favour.” He laughed, a hollow sound. “I love the drama of that piece. It’s a very under-appreciated work, and I don’t understand why it hasn’t been performed for so long. I was of the opinion that this would be an excellent time to mitigate that situation, don’t you think?”

“Um, yes.” Did he mean he had chosen it? Ellisandra cringed inside. And here she had been complaining about the play to his daughter. Really smart move, bigmouth that she was.

“As theatre director, I’m sure you will understand the deep nuances and the many layers of the play. The writer was pure genius. I wish the names of these writers were more widely known, even if they did work for the council. He fully deserves the credit for this masterpiece. I’m very much looking forward to seeing it performed once more, and I’ll be proud that my daughter takes part in it. Thank you for accepting her into the committee.”

Ellisandra met the penetrating gaze of those creepy, almost-white eyes. She had the feeling that he could see straight through her, that she disliked the play, that she had decided to use the ending to make a point. Many layers? How many layers of death and violence did he want?

The door opened behind them.

“Elli, can you—oh!” That was Enzo, Ellisandra’s older brother. He nodded a respectful greeting. “High Councillor. I didn’t know you were here. Do you wish to come in?” He was almost as tall as Asitho Bisumar, but gangly in a way young men often were.

“I was just here to pick up my daughter.” Asitho smiled. “Thank you for the offer, but I wouldn’t want her to miss out on tuition.” Sariandra cringed visibly. Asitho continued to Enzo. “I got your message and I will be in touch about the discussions regarding the proposed plans at a later date.”

“Thank you for listening to us.”

“Well, someone has to listen. What you say interests me, but I need to look into it a bit more closely before I can make definite recommendations.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Enzo hesitated. “The law debate is the day after tomorrow, so that the full council can approve it as soon as the voting season starts.”

Asitho Bisumar winked at him. “I know. Don’t worry. I will look into it.”

Enzo bowed. “Thank you, High Councillor.”

Asitho put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder and they walked through the yard. Enzo went inside immediately, but Ellisandra watched the pair of them disappear into the snowy night. Asitho a big, furry shape under his cloak, Sariandra much smaller, walking slightly in front of him. The main gate squeaked and fell into the lock.

What was that all about?

I’m sure you will understand the deep nuances and the many layers of the play.

What rubbish. She had studied the ancient plays and knew all about nuances and layers in the classic plays. This play was barbaric, that was all that could be said about it.

But did she really want to draw out the gore and violence and upset those men in power? They obviously saw something in the play that she did not. Maybe she should try to learn what it was before shooting down her reputation and drowning her career in a sea of fake blood.