“Respectable?” Leodora all but laughed at the word he’d chosen. The central garden had been filled. People had crowded into all three entrances to see the performance.
Soter pretended not to hear the sarcasm. He rocked back and forth on his feet as though the matter they’d spoken of was closed. Judging by the look on her face, he could not have infuriated Leodora more.
“I understand none of this,” she said. “We stayed on in Vijnagar even when the mistress of the theater very nearly exposed us by trying to have her way with Jax, even after I complained of it to you. We were going to stay on even when I told you we needed to go. In fact we would be there still if it weren’t for your encounter with that elf.”
“Grumelpyn.”
“What did he say that has you pushing us along now, before we’ve even set down our belongings and drawn a breath? Even when we thought Uncle Gousier might come after us, we didn’t flee where we had an audience. In fact, on Merjayzin you were willing to risk letting him catch up with us at the thought of a paying house. We stayed there for two full weeks!”
He’d stopped rocking on his heels by then, and focused on Diverus as if he might appeal to the musician and the two of them outvote her. “Those were early days,” he explained. “We needed the reputation to build, to fly ahead, to do the work for us so that by the time we arrived upon the next and the next span, they had already heard the rumors of you and I could haggle over a larger percentage of the take for us than if we’d just come in off the street like two vagabonds who hoped to swindle them a bit before climbing out a back window and making off with our loot.”
Before Leodora could respond, Diverus asked, slowly and thoughtfully, “So by the time she found me, her reputation had grown enough that now you don’t need to worry whether the next span has heard of her, yes?”
“I—” Soter hadn’t been prepared for that question. Why couldn’t they just do as he asked for once, instead of requiring a more thorough explanation of why he expected them to do as he wished? The little musician was as bad as she was. “Of course we need to have her reputation spread. Of course we do.” He tried to laugh, to make it all light and unimportant that they might not wonder at the tension that underlay every word he spoke—the tension of fearing that he might have to give up more than he wanted. “But you know, there are infinite spans, infinite peoples and tales, and don’t you want to see more of them?” He knew, even as he spoke, that he’d taken a wrong turn, because the question itself offered her the power to decide—the very thing he wanted to avoid.
“I do want to see them all,” she said, “but I also want to learn every story, and I can’t do that if I leave each span so rapidly that I haven’t time to find the stories, hear them, add them to what I know. You said my father did the same.”
“Yes,” replied Soter, knowing there was no other answer, and no way to distract her from what she would say next, which he heard as if it were an echo preceding the sound that made it.
“I want the time to collect the stories.”
“Lea.”
“No, don’t grease your words to me. Don’t make promises and don’t explain my behavior to me when you can’t account for your own.”
“All right then.” He hung his head. It was the only option left him. “How long do we stay?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, and that is because it’s not your responsibility to know,” he insisted, but carefully.
She shook her head in frustration.
“Three nights?”
“Longer,” she said.
“Five then.”
“I don’t know.”
He sighed. “Once again, Lea, it is my part, my role, to ascertain the best venue, and how long we can rely upon the people to attend, and who will pay us the most. This is a job I do well. I’m certainly no puppeteer, but without me, you would have no way to prove that you are.”
She leaned forward then and said, “All right. Five nights on this span.”
He nodded, and said, “Done!”
She got up heavily, as if the argument had worn her out. “I’ve two hours before the performance. I’m going to rest.” The courtyard