followed his gaze and found the small gleaming rectangle immediately. With a muttered oath he bent and examined it.
Kassais swore softly. Another crystal wafer gleamed at the place where he had been sitting. Heedless of any potential danger he picked up the slim rectangle and looked at it. The twin masks rendered on its surface, laughing and crying, gazed inscrutably back at him with hollow eye sockets.
‘It seems you have some unexpected guests, Vyle,’ Kassais said after a moment, ‘unless this is some entertainment you’ve arranged and kept silent about, you sly dog.’
‘What... what does it mean?’ Yegara bleated. The hall was silent. The guests all had their cruel, beautiful faces turned towards Vyle, expectantly awaiting his pronouncement on the strange events. The Shrike Lord had picked up his own wafer and examined it. He threw it back down and smiled his wintry smile before replying.
‘It means I have been chosen for a particular honour, one that in my generosity I shall share with you, my guests and retainers,’ Vyle said loudly. More thunder grumbled behind his words as he continued, and he began to pace slowly along the table as he spoke. ‘We have been invited to participate in a Masque, and we shall see such sights that few even in Commorragh can boast of having witnessed.’
The Shrike Lord paused and flung his head back, calling out louder still. ‘I accept, do you hear me, Harlequins? I know that you’re listening. I accept your offer. Come, make yourself known in my hall.’
As the words left his lips there was a small flash and a ring of scarlet smoke puffed up theatrically beside Vyle. As the smoke rolled away upwards a spindly figure in tight, dark clothing was revealed, with its face hidden behind a swirling mask. It bowed lithely from the waist, bending almost double, and stepped smartly sidewise. As it did so, by some trick of vision there were suddenly two figures standing before Vyle. The mask of one of the figures now wore the stylised grin of Cegorach, while the other wore the tears of Isha.
Both apparitions bowed again and struck a pose, with one arm curved above their heads to touch fingertips while the other was held across their bodies to touch palm to palm. The two figures began to dance together to silent music. It was a courtly pas de deux that swept them around the hall, now solemn, now ridiculous as one and then the other took the lead. The smiling one’s tricks and missteps became ever more outrageous as its weeping partner attempted to keep it on the straight and narrow through the complex dance. The two leapt and rolled over one another with an agility that astounded and delighted their audience. They always remained in contact by palm and fingertips even when it seemed impossible that they could continue to do so.
The dance became faster, more frenetic with the Isha-masked dancer now trying to push away the smiling one. No matter how hard he was flung to the sides or up into the air the weeping dancer could never seem to rid herself of the smiling partner. Each time her unwanted suitor would always rush back as if drawn by magnets, their hands never parting. At the last he was flung upwards and held aloft, the two figures like mirror images with arms outstretched – one above and one below – balancing precariously. They held their pose for an impossibly long moment before the lower figure suddenly dropped her partner amidst gasps of dismay from the audience. In the act of falling the two figures collapsed together into a single entity in a swirling mask that rose and bowed to Vyle once more.
As the figure bowed there was a thunderous pounding on the hall doors. The spindly figure hunched and cocked its tumbling mask towards the Shrike Lord like a faithful hound. Vyle waved his hand indulgently.
‘Go and let them in,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what other worthies are in attendance amongst us this night.’
The lone Harlequin bounded up and raced to the doors.
Kassais swore softly. Another crystal wafer gleamed at the place where he had been sitting. Heedless of any potential danger he picked up the slim rectangle and looked at it. The twin masks rendered on its surface, laughing and crying, gazed inscrutably back at him with hollow eye sockets.
‘It seems you have some unexpected guests, Vyle,’ Kassais said after a moment, ‘unless this is some entertainment you’ve arranged and kept silent about, you sly dog.’
‘What... what does it mean?’ Yegara bleated. The hall was silent. The guests all had their cruel, beautiful faces turned towards Vyle, expectantly awaiting his pronouncement on the strange events. The Shrike Lord had picked up his own wafer and examined it. He threw it back down and smiled his wintry smile before replying.
‘It means I have been chosen for a particular honour, one that in my generosity I shall share with you, my guests and retainers,’ Vyle said loudly. More thunder grumbled behind his words as he continued, and he began to pace slowly along the table as he spoke. ‘We have been invited to participate in a Masque, and we shall see such sights that few even in Commorragh can boast of having witnessed.’
The Shrike Lord paused and flung his head back, calling out louder still. ‘I accept, do you hear me, Harlequins? I know that you’re listening. I accept your offer. Come, make yourself known in my hall.’
As the words left his lips there was a small flash and a ring of scarlet smoke puffed up theatrically beside Vyle. As the smoke rolled away upwards a spindly figure in tight, dark clothing was revealed, with its face hidden behind a swirling mask. It bowed lithely from the waist, bending almost double, and stepped smartly sidewise. As it did so, by some trick of vision there were suddenly two figures standing before Vyle. The mask of one of the figures now wore the stylised grin of Cegorach, while the other wore the tears of Isha.
Both apparitions bowed again and struck a pose, with one arm curved above their heads to touch fingertips while the other was held across their bodies to touch palm to palm. The two figures began to dance together to silent music. It was a courtly pas de deux that swept them around the hall, now solemn, now ridiculous as one and then the other took the lead. The smiling one’s tricks and missteps became ever more outrageous as its weeping partner attempted to keep it on the straight and narrow through the complex dance. The two leapt and rolled over one another with an agility that astounded and delighted their audience. They always remained in contact by palm and fingertips even when it seemed impossible that they could continue to do so.
The dance became faster, more frenetic with the Isha-masked dancer now trying to push away the smiling one. No matter how hard he was flung to the sides or up into the air the weeping dancer could never seem to rid herself of the smiling partner. Each time her unwanted suitor would always rush back as if drawn by magnets, their hands never parting. At the last he was flung upwards and held aloft, the two figures like mirror images with arms outstretched – one above and one below – balancing precariously. They held their pose for an impossibly long moment before the lower figure suddenly dropped her partner amidst gasps of dismay from the audience. In the act of falling the two figures collapsed together into a single entity in a swirling mask that rose and bowed to Vyle once more.
As the figure bowed there was a thunderous pounding on the hall doors. The spindly figure hunched and cocked its tumbling mask towards the Shrike Lord like a faithful hound. Vyle waved his hand indulgently.
‘Go and let them in,’ he said. ‘Let’s see what other worthies are in attendance amongst us this night.’
The lone Harlequin bounded up and raced to the doors.