Page 52 of The King's Menagerie

"Not a tournament, but a contest, which is a little different. It was a test of endurance," Jankin replied. "Who could dance the longest without stopping. I could barely move for two days after. I danced for three days without stopping, save for very brief breaks for food, water, and such. No break was longer than two minutes. It was exhausting." He had won a purse that would have seen him living like a noble for quite some time—the rest of his life, if he was smart about it. He had kept a small portion and given the rest away to a temple that helped the poor after verifying theywouldhelp and not simply keep the money for themselves.

It was also where he'd gotten the beautiful peacock fan he was using tonight, along with a wrap and hairpin to match it.

Raffa did not look appeased. "That isn't possible."

"An entire country will confirm it," Jankin said lightly. "I'm not here to steal anything from anyone. I thought I would be performing some days or weeks down the road. Not today. Then an Eshar got stranded."

"How convenient for you."

Clearly the man had made up his mind about Jankin and would not be changing it. "I am aware how fortunate I am, believe it or not. However, I am also good at what I do, and my skills are what made this possible at all."

"And so modest," Raffa said sneeringly.

"I have no need of modesty when my skill is true and hard-won."

"Damn right," said the other duelist. "Modesty serves a purpose, but not here. We are the best of the best, all of us."

Raffa said nothing.

Jankin stifled a sigh, pondering what else he could say that would get the man to hate him less, because he would rather make friends than rivals, but before he could speak, the bell rang again, and Raffa stood, going to the door.

Then it was just him, the duelists, and the actors. "Actors, right? Or am I wrong?"

"Actors indeed, performing a short. They're increasingly popular because they work so well for banquets and such. Only our third time performing in the royal palace, and first time at a royal banquet."

The second one added, "Never performed for a fancy foreign royal either."

"He's not really royalty," Jankin said. "Eshar are sort of in between royalty and nobility. Like nobility with extra sparkle, I guess. They're highly respected in Rittu because it's a title thatmustbe earned. It's not inherited or gained inevitably through duty or career. It's awarded for great and significant deeds. Eshar Halikazen saved an entire town from a terrible fire, along with many priceless treasures in that town. Eleven people died, mostly the elderly, but if not for his efforts, that number would have been in the hundreds. He has other deeds, great and small, to his name, but that is the one he's most famed for. The Eshar I once performed for discovered a cure for a terrible disease that killed hundreds of children every year."

"Tavamara just hands out medals and calls it done," the third actor said with a laugh. "Can the title be taken away again?"

"Yes, but I cannot recall when that ever happened. Generally people who do such monumental things are not inclined to do terrible things. Or, I suppose, they're far too good at hiding it." If nothing else, they would never want the shame of having something so honorable and important taken away. "So what is your play about?"

"It's a tragic romance bit, based on a popular poem. I think His Majesty has had people do dramatic readings of the poem before. He's well-known for enjoying such things. More before his wife died, but lately he's been more like his old self. As much as one can be, anyway, after losing a deep love. Maybe that's why the poem seems to be a favorite? At any rate, we will perform it to the best of our abilities."

"I have every faith you will, and wish you the best of luck."

"Thank you. Best to you as well, of course."

Conversation lapsed after that, the other groups content to speak amongst themselves, and Jankin happy to have the time to himself, to focus and prepare, get his head in the right space. A pity Raffa had been so stubbornly set against him; he wouldn't have minded making a friend in a fellow dancer, somebody he could talk trade with, learn from and teach in turn.

The bell rang again, and the actors departed, leaving only Jankin and the duelists. "How does one get into dueling for entertainment?"

"We picked it up from dancing, actually," the first woman said. "We were both in the military for a short time, that's where we met. We liked dancing, so when we left the military, we signed up with a troupe, and we had enough skills with knives that they taught us a traditional knife dance from the Great Desert. Something from the Scorpion Tribe, I think. Anyway, we liked it a lot, and made it a duet, and then somehow it just became more and more of a duel. Took some time before we could do it with real knives."

The second woman added, "Honestly, we could probably stick to props, but the audience always get such a thrill out of knowing they're real that we may as well keep with it. We're good enough we never get more than minor nicks at worst. It's not like it's a real duel."

"I've seen real knife fights," Jankin said, sharing the grim expressions that fell over their faces. "Nobody walks away from those, in my experience."

"They don't," the first woman agreed.

Nearly half an hour or so passed before the bells chimed again, and Jankin wished the duelists well before he was left entirely alone. He hoped the other performances had gone well. There was nothing quite so crushing as reaching such a pivotal moment only to ruin it—or have it ruined for you, which was so much worse. One thing to make a mistake, to have only yourself to blame. To have the moment ruined through no fault of your own? Because of someone else's carelessness, or selfishness, or maliciousness? That was a much deeper bitterness, and so much more difficult to overcome.

The bell rang, and Jankin rose, shoving down the nerves that always struck him at the last moment, as if waiting to rush up and sabotage him.

At the door, a servant with markings on her clothes that he didn't recognize smiled and nodded, beckoning him to follow. As silence seemed to be the rule, Jankin remained quiet as he obeyed.

The woman left him with a bow at a set of double doors with ornate engravings of flora and fauna, overseen by four guards and two servants, one of which beckoned him close with imperious gestures. "You were prepared?"

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