Something wasn’t right.
Verice rose, mounted the platform, and pulled down the cloths that had been used to create a ‘backstage’. He noted the barrels holding swords and spears, and frowned at a pile of shields and cloaks, more than the number of the company it seemed.
Finally, he moved off, gesturing Narthing to his side.
“The main gates are closed?” he asked softly.
“They would have shut the moment the horns sounded,” Narthing said softly. He turned slightly, stretching his neck a bit. “The constable is there, so it’s secure.”
“I want the grounds searched,” Verice murmured. “And a quick check on all the sentries on the inner and outer walls.”
“Aye,” Narthing said. “I’ll see to it.” He headed off toward the main gates at a trot.
Verice gestured to Ustov. “Come,” he said as he returned to where Zester was seated.
“I thought I instructed you to announce a comedy, Master Zester.” Verice knelt close to the man.
“M’lord Verice, I swear we were just having a bit of play-acting,” Zester said loudly, but then he winced. “My arm,” he pleaded.
“Quality work, there.” Verice tilted his head at the pile of weapons. “I’d expected wooden swords, or more pot metal than steel.”
“More realistic that way,” Zester hissed through his pain. “The crowd likes it better with the ring of true steel.”
“You’re paying for it now,” Verice said as he knelt next to the man. “Let me see that.”
He peeled back the sleeve. Zester leaned closer in. “Help us,” was his desperate whisper.
Verice didn’t react.
Zester winced as Verice exposed the wound. “Prisoners. We’ve been prisoners in our own—”
“Arrest these men,” Verice barked. “Arrest these men.”
His warriors closed in. There were a few that resisted, but they were secured quickly.
“Tell me,” Verice growled.
“They took us prisoner in our own theater,” Zester said shakily. “There’s more men, outside the walls, waiting for a signal.”
“Do we have them all?” Verice asked. “All those within these walls?”
“Yes,” Zester was starting to sag. “We thought maybe, if we did something, we could foil their scheme—”
“Almost cost you your life, Zester,” Verice said. “Still, I owe you much for—”
“Bastards,” Zester said. “Hiding behind our good name and reputation.”
“Narthing,” Verice called. “Zester, you need to help us sort them all out.”
“They threatened to burn my theater,” Zester said. “Lord, the men outside the walls may have fled to the town. They will—”
“No,” Verice said. “The City Watch is also on alert. We’ll get word to them.”
Narthing returned to his side. “The sentries are being checked, and I’ve a squad to sweep the road to town.”
“Let’s not mar the Festival,” Verice said. “Executions can wait. I want as much information from these prisoners as we can get.”
“Aye to that,”
