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Authors: William Alexander
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such information, the Lord Mayorcould provide you with a special license to perform within the proper limits of the city.”
“That is very generous,” said Thomas. “Very generous. We would, of course, be delighted to help the Lord Mayor with his interests.”
Rownie braced himself for more running. He knew how to get away from the Guard. He knew how to zig and zag in Southside streets and escape from those who only ever marched in straight lines. His legs hated the thought of running again, but he braced himself anyway. He would run if he had to. He would make himself run.
Thomas went on. “If we hear the slightest rumors about unChanged actors, we will of course find you immediately.”
Rownie took a breath. He had been holding it. He hadn’t noticed. He wouldn’t have to run. The old goblin wasn’t about to turn him in.
“Do so,” said the Captain. “I have further business here, but my officers will happily escort you to a proscribed area at this time.”
“Certainly, sir,” said Thomas, with politeness and courtesy. “Certainly.”
The Guard-boots made precise turns, and surrounded them. Rownie heard Thomas climb up into the driving seat. A gearworked mule unfolded itself at the front of the wagon. Rownie could see coal glowing red in its belly.
They use coal , he thought, horrified.
The mule began to trot. Rownie’s hiding place was moving, and now he had nowhere to go. There were Guard-boots in every direction he looked.
A hatch opened in the wagon floor above him. Several pairs of hands reached down, caught him, and pulled him inside.
Act II, Scene II
GEARWORKS CLANKED . Wooden wheels clacked. The wagon lurched forward, and the hatch in the floor fell shut. Rownie rolled away from the hatch and the grasping hands. They let go of him.
He looked up. The first thing he saw was the dragon.
The fire-breathing puppet hung down from ropes tied to the ceiling, and it pitched as the wagon moved along uneven streets. The wheels went over a bump, and the dragon lurched down at Rownie, as though trying to bite his face. Lantern light glinted on sharp, brass teeth.
He knew it was a puppet. He could see that most of it was plaster and paper on a wooden frame. But he couldn’t help flattening himself against the floor and throwing up his arms around his face.
He lowered his hands when nothing happened. The dragon puppet swayed above him. That was all it did.
Four goblins also stood above him.
One was the tall, bald goblin who had juggled fire. He looked at Rownie like he couldn’t quite decide what Rownie was. Another wore rough clothes stained with grease and sawdust. She had long, dark hair pulled behind her head and tied with a string—though most of it had escaped the string. The third was the one who had carried a pile of costumes through the rain a few moments ago, and wore more than one set of costumes herself. She had spiky hair. She gave a little wave with one hand.
The fourth was Semele, who had offered him tea underneath the stage, and offered him welcome.
All of them had pointed ears and very large eyes—though Semele squinted with her large eyes through small spectacles. Their faces were freckled with greens and browns.
“Hello, Rownie,” said Semele. “I am glad that you found us again, yes.”
Rownie was not entirely glad that he had found them again. He felt nervous and unsettled. He sat up, and looked around, and was not reassured. Props and masks and musical instruments rattled in crates and made strange noises as they knocked against each other. Lantern light cast oddly shaped shadows, and the shadows rocked back and forth as the wagon moved. Everything around him was unsettling. It smelled like old clothes and paper.
“Hello,” Rownie said, quietly and cautiously.
The tall, bald goblin said nothing. The one with the work-stained clothes also said nothing.
“They never say anything,” said the goblin with spiky hair. Her voice was high, and her words jumped around
“That is very generous,” said Thomas. “Very generous. We would, of course, be delighted to help the Lord Mayor with his interests.”
Rownie braced himself for more running. He knew how to get away from the Guard. He knew how to zig and zag in Southside streets and escape from those who only ever marched in straight lines. His legs hated the thought of running again, but he braced himself anyway. He would run if he had to. He would make himself run.
Thomas went on. “If we hear the slightest rumors about unChanged actors, we will of course find you immediately.”
Rownie took a breath. He had been holding it. He hadn’t noticed. He wouldn’t have to run. The old goblin wasn’t about to turn him in.
“Do so,” said the Captain. “I have further business here, but my officers will happily escort you to a proscribed area at this time.”
“Certainly, sir,” said Thomas, with politeness and courtesy. “Certainly.”
The Guard-boots made precise turns, and surrounded them. Rownie heard Thomas climb up into the driving seat. A gearworked mule unfolded itself at the front of the wagon. Rownie could see coal glowing red in its belly.
They use coal , he thought, horrified.
The mule began to trot. Rownie’s hiding place was moving, and now he had nowhere to go. There were Guard-boots in every direction he looked.
A hatch opened in the wagon floor above him. Several pairs of hands reached down, caught him, and pulled him inside.
Act II, Scene II
GEARWORKS CLANKED . Wooden wheels clacked. The wagon lurched forward, and the hatch in the floor fell shut. Rownie rolled away from the hatch and the grasping hands. They let go of him.
He looked up. The first thing he saw was the dragon.
The fire-breathing puppet hung down from ropes tied to the ceiling, and it pitched as the wagon moved along uneven streets. The wheels went over a bump, and the dragon lurched down at Rownie, as though trying to bite his face. Lantern light glinted on sharp, brass teeth.
He knew it was a puppet. He could see that most of it was plaster and paper on a wooden frame. But he couldn’t help flattening himself against the floor and throwing up his arms around his face.
He lowered his hands when nothing happened. The dragon puppet swayed above him. That was all it did.
Four goblins also stood above him.
One was the tall, bald goblin who had juggled fire. He looked at Rownie like he couldn’t quite decide what Rownie was. Another wore rough clothes stained with grease and sawdust. She had long, dark hair pulled behind her head and tied with a string—though most of it had escaped the string. The third was the one who had carried a pile of costumes through the rain a few moments ago, and wore more than one set of costumes herself. She had spiky hair. She gave a little wave with one hand.
The fourth was Semele, who had offered him tea underneath the stage, and offered him welcome.
All of them had pointed ears and very large eyes—though Semele squinted with her large eyes through small spectacles. Their faces were freckled with greens and browns.
“Hello, Rownie,” said Semele. “I am glad that you found us again, yes.”
Rownie was not entirely glad that he had found them again. He felt nervous and unsettled. He sat up, and looked around, and was not reassured. Props and masks and musical instruments rattled in crates and made strange noises as they knocked against each other. Lantern light cast oddly shaped shadows, and the shadows rocked back and forth as the wagon moved. Everything around him was unsettling. It smelled like old clothes and paper.
“Hello,” Rownie said, quietly and cautiously.
The tall, bald goblin said nothing. The one with the work-stained clothes also said nothing.
“They never say anything,” said the goblin with spiky hair. Her voice was high, and her words jumped around
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