“Finally, and consider this the most important,” says Silenus. “Neverbreak the fourth wall. For your safety and for others.”
A tinge of frustration clouds my mind when he doesn’t elaborate. The fourth wall is referenced in several historical accounts of the Playhouse. None are clear about what it means.
Silenus nods approval at the lack of objections. “This year marks a Great Dionysia festival.”
TITUS: “Make it a good one, everyone. Last time didn’t go so well.”
The heckling Player shrugs when the rest of his cast pins him with iron stares.
My brow falls as I draw the connection. The last Great Dionysia was canceled when a Lead Player—Gene—died onstage two nights before the finale. With one less Player in the cast, Jude, an auditionee at the time, won her role by default after stepping in to save the performance.
That last performance is memorialized in the District Museum, a chronically overcrowded exhibit. I managed a square look at it once, though. It’s a massive thing, framed in gold. In the solagraph, a faded rendering of Jude kneeling at the edge of the stage, a limp Player clothed in silky layers of white cradled in his arms like a dove. His mouth is parted open, singing her into eternal sleep.
Realization dawns on me. Jude’s mentor died in his arms, and he took her place. He’snevercompeted in a Great Dionysia. And it seems he stillreallydoesn’t want to if he’s trapped me here to get him out of it.
I peer up at him. He doesn’t look back, but a muscle feathers in his jaw.
What are you hiding?
Sil clears his throat. “Over the next few weeks, the Player who selected you will put you through a number of trials to measure your strengths in three areas: Compulsion, Reality Suspension—”
Titus interrupts with a proud holler.The deathless arts,my mind translates. Couldthathelp me? Is that what Jude meant?
No. It doesn’t matter. At this point, I’m lucky if I can get out of here with my life.
“—and Mimicry as we embark on a three-week tour. You will train closely with your mentor.” I cringe at the thought. “Of course, it does you good to gain the favor of the audiences you perform for. But I urge you to remember, this is a casting call, and the winner will be decided upon by myself. So bring me your best.”
I’m going home,I assure myself as a nervous, hollow feeling churns in my stomach. Sil will undoubtedly eliminate me first if Idostay and take Jude up on his offer. There’s no way around it. I don’t belong here.
“Should one of you—by my selection—survive to see the finale, you will compete against my Lead Player.”
Eyes swivel in my direction. Thenabove me, at Jude. Whoever wins will face him.
“Kill my Lead Player in the arena, and you have a place in my cast, and all the Craft that comes with it.”Immortality, he means.Beauty. Power. “And in turn, your mentor becomes our next Lead Player.”
The other Players stand a little taller and prouder at this reminder. Jude’s freedoms, his prestige, his power—it all falls to whichever one of his castmates trained his killer.
I wonder how he sleeps at night. I don’t think I would.
Granted, maybe that’s why he’s trapped me here.
ARIUS: “Sil, you make it sound soserious.” The Player’s gentle eyes drift over the arena, at us. “There’s some blood, darlings, but it’s a great party.”
TITUS: “And besides!” He leans forward, bracing massive forearms on the ledge. “Maybe one of you doe-eyed runts will manage to oust that pompous ass.”
There’s a round of distinctive gasps as Titus targets a particularly arrogant smile at Jude.
JUDE: “Perhaps a demonstration, then, Titus!” The room startles when Jude’s voice strikes the amphitheatre, the pitch glassy and commanding. It’s the first time I notice the lyrical clip of a Syrenian accent, a territory west of the District in North Theatron.
Interesting.
Jude leans forward, the rings on his fingers gleaming under the spotlights as he grips the ledge and challenges, “I’m sure any one of them would be thrilled to scrape what’s left of you from the stage floor.”
Titus huffs. “Good, it’ll give you an opportunity to earn your fucking place.” I raise an eyebrow.Alsointeresting. “Besides, it’ll take the rest to mop up your tears once you’ve lost so much as a button.”
JUDE: “Thisvestis worth more than your—”
MATTIA:“Enough.”The oldest Player smacks her hand down on the railing, calling order back to the room and silencing both of them. To be fair, if I’d spent hundreds of years listening to such drama, I’d probably be fed up, too. “Save your bickering. You can threaten each other later.”
