Like a Wisp of Steam, Thomas Roche [list of e readers txt] 📗

surprise, he reached up to her. He didn't want the scene to end so soon.

She shifted back into character. "I'll come back for you, darling, I swear I will," she said, backing out of the door. He managed a weak wave as the door shut.

Ricar relaxed on the bed for a moment, pleased despite his lapse at the end. It had been his first time playing the Innocent in an assignation, far more challenging than the Servants and Pets he had played before.

He got up, shrugged back into his shirt, then walked back into the player's corridor. He found Chel and the director waiting for them. "I think the client was very satisfied, sir," he said.

"And there were three more assignation requests," Chel pointed out.

"All right," the director said grudgingly, "you can do Fatale and Innocent in the first act, starting tomorrow night."

Chel laughed triumphantly, and she and Ricar embraced as friends.

"But this fad won't last," the director said, shaking his finger at them. "Be prepared to go back to Pets and Servants."

* * * *

More by fortune than design, he had the right qualities to be cast as the lead in Under the Hill, The Innocent Champion, and Branwen in Furs, working with some of the finest Fatales and Princes in the Commedia. Eventually, tastes changed, and there was little demand for male Innocents, but his career continued with new roles.

He realized Miss Alwyx was still speaking and stopped his reverie.

"I had it all planned out," she said. "When I turned eighteen, I'd get an apprenticeship. I knew I'd have to play some other roles first, but I could live with that. Then my little sister got pregnant by some bastard who left town.

Maman fell ill, had to stay in bed. Papa, he's a builder, lost both his apprentices, and I had to help out at work. I had to.... Err, some other things happened. Then, one day, I thought, Maman's living in the hospice now, Papa has enough apprentices for work, my sister can look after her own child, and I'm not getting any younger. I signed on with the first company I could find, and here I am. I didn't really think I'd make the audition at Razor Lotus, but I just had to come out and do my best."

The porter made his way through the car, announcing,

"West Badger station, West Badger."

"That's our stop," he said. He moved to help her up, but she had already bounded to her feet.

He followed her onto the platform and down the iron steps to street level. Though it was early evening, the lights from the pubs and dance halls and eateries illuminated the busy street.

Miss Alwyx looked around, not sure where to go, until Ricar pointed down the street to a theatre. "Over there," he said, beckoning her to follow.

The marquee read, "The House of the Blood Blossom proudly presents The Ruin of the Rakes, featuring Corr Evers Ysonn, the Wonder of West Badger, as The Virago." Ricar smiled. It was about time Corr got her name on the bill.

Ricar picked up his tickets and lead her up to one of the boxes. The Blood Blossom was half the size of the Razor Lotus, and Ricar could pick out a certain shabbiness that Davis never would have allowed. Even the punters down in the pit were different: instead of the shopkeepers and clerks, they were university students, ecstatic preachers, artisans—younger on average. The New Citizens, they called themselves.

Miss Alwyx picked at the frayed upholstery on her chair.

"Why don't they take better care of these things?"

"The performance matters more than the furnishings," he said. He actually liked this smaller theatre, where the performance could be more intimate than the Razor Lotus's cavernous auditorium allowed. He even preferred the gas lighting, which gave everything a dreamy glow, to the harsh clarity of the new electric lights Davis bragged about so much.

The orchestra ran through an eight-bar introduction and the host came out to run through the announcements.

"...and to your right," said the host. "I see Ricar, Donal sept, Stefan clan, company director of the House of the Razor Lotus and his protégé. Welcome to our humble establishment, and I hope our company can please you."

Ricar stood up, smiled and waved to the crowd, to scattered applause. When he sat down again, Miss Alwyx leaned close and said, "I'm your what?" under her breath.

"It's nothing," he said. "Just patter."

Miss Alwyx leaned back, but there was suspicion in her eyes that he hadn't seen before.

The curtain rose for the first act. Two Servants entered the Matron's bedchamber, playfully tried on their employer's clothes, then fell into fighting over the jewelry, until one held the other down and made her apologize.

The second act was a Brute and Harlot number. The Brute carried and threw the Harlot around the stage like she was a rag doll, though she got in a few eye punches and shin kicks.

Neither was terribly innovative, but Ricar appreciated the conviction the players put into it.

As the third act began, Miss Alwyx asked, "Who's playing the Innocent?"

"This isn't classical Commedia."

"You mean they don't have an Innocent?" She looked at him like a child struggling with the concept of supper without pudding.

"Not always, strange as it may seem."

The orchestra struck up a simple melody, a fake tree on the stage indicating a pastoral scene. A feminine figure shrouded in white walked out, holding a basket in one hand as she went to market.

"Ah, there we go," Miss Alwyx said, apparently pleased.

Enter the Rakes, stealing her basket and leaping around her, taunting the poor creature, who shrank away, huddling by the tree. The music rose as it seemed the Rakes would soon ravage the woman.

"Watch this," he told Miss Alwyx. "Miss Evers is the best Virago in the city right now."

The Rakes pulled at the white cloak, while the woman crouched down to a tiny ball, her faint protests answered by jeers from her attackers. Finally, the cloak (pre-cut) was nearly torn