3

III

Silence fell throughout the amphitheater as the Marshmally sisters bowed simultaneously and left the stage, broad smiles on their faces. Only when the last hem of one twin's robe disappeared backstage did the audience begin to applaud, and the loud applause echoed throughout Violet Hill.

La Faérie Amphitheater was one of those theaters to which all sorts of aristocracy loved to flock. Plays by the most famous authors were performed there, the most brilliant stars played on its stages, and the audience was undoubtedly the richest of the rich. There wasn't a child in all of Seeladon who didn't know at least one of Francis de Burgund's famous tragedies, or the equally famous comedies by Calista Mornington, which brought fame to La Faérie. The state also boasted a roster of the finest actors in the history of Gemn—the charismatic third prince of Bertraam, Zimon Flamna, or the beautiful Fiffi of Shoal, whose green-and-blue, mischievous gaze set men's hearts ablaze.

The stone, semicircular amphitheater was located south of the largest city in the entire state, and its monumental structure captivated visitors, merchants, and mercenaries. Each performance staged there was a sensation and drew crowds.

The only difference between a regular performance at La Faérie and today's premiere was the audience. And although the theater was still packed, the people sitting in the stands were neither wealthy nor influential. Of course, this wasn't surprising, as only the lesser nobility and bourgeoisie attended the debuts.

Mizuki also belonged to that class.

She joined in the clapping, but not because she liked the play. In truth, she wasn't moved at all, more like bored beyond belief. The problem was that it was her nineteenth birthday, and the theater ticket was supposed to be a gift. All her plans fell through, however, because the play, while perhaps not bad in content, turned out to be a disaster of a director and actors.

"Turner will laugh when I tell him," she thought ruefully. "I could have accepted his offer of dinner at that new restaurant. With his influence, we would have gotten the best table and the most edible dishes. And now what? I'm slacking off at the theater because I insisted on spending the day alone. And I probably made him feel bad."

She shook her head. "I'm cruel and mean. He tries so hard, and I'm still ungrateful."

Just as the applause was slowly dying down, a young Vihari woman emerged from the wings, dressed in a beautiful, dark brown dress that perfectly complemented her skin tone. Zandra and Sandra Marshmally ran onto the stage behind her, jumping wildly and waving to the audience. The applause burst forth again, with renewed intensity.

Mizuki groaned from her seat and rolled her eyes. "It's that woman from the bookstore today... The one from that man who bought 'No Magic Land.'"

The Vihari woman bowed, smiling sweetly, and holding a bouquet of dead wildflowers that had been thrown onto the stage by a youngster in the front rows.

Completely bored, Mizuki looked up by accident. Something whizzed past her head with a shrill whistle and hurtled toward the stage. It all happened so quickly that minutes later she couldn't even comprehend how it had happened.

The arrow struck her squarely in the neck, and the force of its flight instantly severed her head. The Vihari girl collapsed onto the stone floor like a sack of potatoes, blood spurting from her artery at least a meter high, spraying the actresses standing nearby. The twins recoiled with a jolt, their screams catching in their throats.

Silence fell upon the La Faérie amphitheater. Only a girlish, terrified squeal broke it.

"ASHLEY!"

The scream, undoubtedly coming from the front row, just in front of the stage, sent everyone fleeing. In fear and panic, the entire small townspeople of Seeladon, a large number of visitors, and countless servants rushed toward the single, narrow exit. Mizuki, without hesitation, turned in the opposite direction.

She stopped only in the last row, cowering under the stone balustrade and looking with horror at the tumult of people that had begun to churn below, trampling and suffocating in their panic.

She instinctively glanced at the stage, but quickly averted her gaze when she saw the playwright's headless body. She saw a teenage Vihari girl struggling from her older compatriot's embrace. The girl screamed, flailed, kicked, bit, all to no avail. The boy holding her was unyielding, his arms as hard as steel. His composed voice from the bookstore came to mind, and she shuddered.

Unwilling to watch any longer, she turned and peered over the railing.

She was stunned. Two figures were moving toward the forest at the foot of Violet Hill, rapidly diminishing. Before they disappeared into the shadows of the trees, however, she saw a long-haired Seeladon woman with a bow slung across her back, a dog, and a young Bertraam man with a huge sword strapped to his belt.

She remained like that for a long time, her heart in her throat, until no trace of the strange trio remained.