The more they talked, the more she set sail in uncharted waters. Whether or not Soter had instructed her not to speak of some things, Leodora could tell that she was cracking open a subject that hadn’t seen light.
She closed her hand on the woman’s wrist and said, “I want to know everything,” leaving no room for obfuscation or pretense. She said, “But first tell me who you are.”
“Ah, I’ve been unforgivably obscure. My name is Orinda.”
Leodora gaped.
“I was once a player here, much like Bois and Glaise, save that I was never made of wood—although neither were they, once. But if I explain all that to you now, I’ll lose the thread of it, and it’s so difficult anymore to hold on to such threads. The spirals are unwinding for me, and each turn seems farther than the one preceding it. Mr. Burbage’s . . . I’m sure I’m making no sense to you.”
Leodora shook her head. “Truly, I lost your thread at your name.”
“Orinda.” She laughed lightly.
“Yes, I heard that much. There’s a puppet of that name in my collection. She comes from a story I know, that Soter taught me.”
“Oh. I should like to hear that story. I hope she’s not a villain. I was a traveling player once, and I’ve never heard my name in a tale. But as to what I was saying before, the proprietor of the theater, Mr. Burbage, fell in love with me and I with him and I became his wife, and together we ran this—or, to be precise I should say its predecessor—and, oh my, we were in love. I always called him Mr. Burbage because that’s what we’d called him when we were all players, not because he wanted formality, and it became more intimate in some way I can’t explain, that I did. We were in love, I think, every single day we were together. He took ill right before your father . . .” She looked about herself, at the walls, roof, tapestries, as if to assure herself that they were real. “Right before we fell into ruin.”
“Bardsham was connected to that?”
“The members of the high court held us accountable for the blighting of Colemaigne after he left, and they banned all subsequent performances. Of course, we’d suffered as much if not more than any in the blight. The theater was transformed into a ruin, so it almost mattered not at all. There would have been no further performances. No walls, no stage, just rot and crumbling masonry. Nothing held together, nor could we make it hold. Their ban only meant we wouldn’t rebuild, but it proved the end of Mr. Burbage. He might have rallied from his illness, but he had no reason to. Oh, if I could only have shown him the state of things now—and Bardsham’s daughter here, performing—I’m sure he would have held on. But if it hadn’t saved him, I wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer interminably, so perhaps it’s better. We can’t know these things, can we?”
“It makes you wish that the tablet in the story really existed,” Leodora replied. “The blighting—how did it happen?”
Orinda made a face that said It’s not important and replied, “Bardsham had gone. He and his troupe had sailed on . . . It’s all long past.”
“Yes, but what was the cause, and how did our arrival repair it?”
“You have no recollection, then. You walked into the Dragon Bowl and the gods paid us a visit. The first time in decades. You’re the cause, you’ve freed us from a terrible curse.”
The dragon beam—she remembered walking out along it to tease Diverus—and the bowl with enough tiles remaining to suggest a pattern, but nothing beyond that. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I don’t even recall asking anyone to heal your span—I wouldn’t have known to, would I?”
Orinda smiled tolerantly, as she might have at a slow child. “It’s nothing to do with what you asked, only with the fact that the gods answered when they touched you.”
Leodora digested that, then said, “But it doesn’t—”
“Oh, my girl, please, no more questions for now. A terrible thing happened in the past and you righted it. You’re going to be very popular in Colemaigne, you and your troupe, as I’m certain the ban will be lifted on us now with you here—with you the cause of our healing—and, oh, imagine the hundreds and hundreds who will fill our little theater.” She took Leodora by the arm and turned her. “They’ll