Page 65 of Embrace the Serpent

The commander was instantly recognizable by the extra sashes and ornaments on his uniform. He was frazzled. “Ah yes, exactly what I need. They’ve sent dozens of guards from the capital with no notice. They’ve been stirring up my garrison men, country boys with a chip on their shoulder. It’ll come to fisticuffs. You’ll be a good distraction for them.”

“If you mean you’d like us to put on a performance,” Barad said, “we are happy to discuss payment.”

The commander’s demeanor sharpened. “You will be allowed to sleep, eat, and leave. Is that payment enough?”

Barad bowed. “That will do nicely.”

In hardly any time at all, the wagon was parked in the fortress’s courtyard, and the horses were unhitched and rubbed down.

The troupe conferred amongst themselves, and Rane and I did the same, though we were concerned not with tonight’s play, but with the five watchtowers that ringed the fortress. From up there, the guards would see anyone attempting to leave as long as there was light out.

Rane was telling me why it wouldn’t work for us to be illused as donkeys—something about having to walk on all fours to sell the illusion, plus where would donkeys have come from, anyway?—when Barad approached.

“Ah, my two lovebirds,” Barad interrupted. “We should discuss what parts you two will play.” He attempted to throw an arm over Rane’s shoulder, but Rane was too tall.

“We’d be happy to play no part,” Rane said. “In fact, we’re considering getting out of your hair entirely.”

“That would be a problem, see, as they’ve noted how many are in our party. It would make things difficult for us.” He raised a quelling hand as Rane protested. “You have no transport. It’s in your best interest to work with us and leave with us well before dawn.”

Rane glanced at me. I winced. On one hand, they had been good to us, and I didn’t want to repay them with trouble. On the other hand, if it meant having to get up on a stage and perform, I’d much rather have died.

“As you wish,” Rane said to Barad, but he held my gaze. He quirked his brow in a silent question.

He would do what I wanted, I realized. He’d run with me if I said we should run.

I sighed and gave a small nod in Barad’s direction.

Rane’s eyes softened in answer. To Barad, he said, “Tell us more about this play....”

The stage was set: one side of the wagon cranked down to become an elevated platform. By way of illumination, we had two ingenious oil lamps with mirrored backs. They sat on the outside corners of the stage, casting a great amount of light and heat.

Manning the lamps were two troupe members—the two who’d been up front, driving—and they thrust colored silks before the lamps to change the color of the light.

Barad cornered Rane and me. “Do your best,” he said. “If the commander thinks you might not be actors, it’ll be all our heads.”

“Maybe I should have a smaller role,” I said, fidgeting in my costume. Silk gathered at one shoulder and wrapped around me, leaving my arms bare.

Barad cracked a worried smile. “But you already have thesmallestone.”

“She’ll be fine,” Rane said.

“What about their jobs?” I pointed at the lamp minders. “Can’t I do that?”

“That’s what they doin additionto their roles. He’s the narrator, and she’s the mother of our hero.” Barad’s smile grew wild.

“She’ll be fine,” Ran said again. “You’ll be fine.”

“I’ll be fine,” I lied. I was going to die. My stomach was turning cartwheels, and it felt like it was trying to leap out of my throat and escape before the whole ship went down.

“Good,” Barad said. “Good. Let’s go on.”

The musician strummed a dashing, romantic tune, and the light turned a pale blue.

The play began.

Maras glided across the stage, draped in lightweight red silks that floated about her feet. She was a djinn, she told the audience, and she longed to be known, to be loved.

Barad entered, outfitted in a boldly patterned jacket and draped trousers, and the crown of a prince. They met in the middle of the stage, and the light turned a soft gold.