Two tallow candles cast a dim and smoky light. Master Thiel sat on a bench, his long legs extended, his features vivid in the candlelight and shadows. What a mansioner hero he would make! He rose and bowed when I entered, spilling Pardine from his lap.
I curtsied—not a quick bob down and up, as Mother had taught me, but the elaborate reverence I’d learned from Albin.
“We meet again,” Master Thiel said.
“Indeed,” I said with all the stateliness I could muster.
A bowl full of apples rested on a low table. I forgot Master Thiel and mansioning. In my state I might have traded my future for those apples.
Behind me, Masteress Meenore said, “Sulow, have you been engaged to mansion at the count’s feast?”
He answered, “I have, though I’d be happier if His Lordship watched in the form of a pig. A pig doesn’t pretend to be more than a beast.”
“I know a few humans,” IT said, “who combine pig, snake, and vulture without the excuse of shape-shifting.”
Master Thiel said, “Bring a cat for safety, Sulow.”
“I will. And a mansioner learns to protect himself in a thousand battle scenes, isn’t that so, young mistress?”
I started out of my apple reverie. “Yes, master.” Surely he would offer us apples. Hospitality demanded that he must.
IT said, “Give her an apple, Sulow. I doubt she’s eaten all day.” IT hadn’t given me a skewer, but IT had been selling them, so hospitality didn’t apply.
Hospitality seemed not to apply here, either. “If she becomes my apprentice, she may have more than an apple, but nothing until then.” He took my elbow and guided me past the beautiful apples, until I was backed against the wall opposite the door. “Stand here.” He seated himself on a stool across from Master Thiel. “Excellent.”
Masteress Meenore continued to watch from the doorway. The floor and the space around me were bare of props and scenery.
Master Sulow said, “What is your favorite part to perform?”
“Do you know Pyramus and Thisbe, Elodie?” Masteress Meenore asked. “I relish a good Thisbe.”
I nodded. I adored that play. It always made me weep, and I had the words by heart, although it wasn’t Albin’s favorite of my pieces. He said I was too young for it. “After your heart has been broken,” he always said, “you can play Thisbe.”
“Yes,” Master Sulow said, smiling for the first time. “If you know the role of Thisbe, that is my choice, too.”
Master Thiel said, “Nothing represents true love more forcefully.” He held up an apple. “Do you mind, Sulow?”
Master Sulow laughed. “You’ll have it anyway.”
Why could Master Thiel have an apple and not I? I wanted to wrest it from his hand and gobble it up.
Controlling myself, I said, “May I do Thisbe’s last scene?” This was the most powerful moment, when she grieves over Pyramus’s body.
“By all means. I will establish the mood.” He threw back his head and roared, a lion’s roar, convincingly enough to make my heart race.
Oh, excellent! I clapped, which made a wet sound.
Then I kept my hands together and lowered my head, to concentrate and become my role, but the apples filled my mind. Albin said inspiration could come from any source. I wanted an apple as much as Thisbe ever wanted Pyramus.
Master Sulow coughed.
An apple would be my Pyramus. I whispered, “‘O Pyramus? Is that you?’” I heard the genuine longing in my tones. I imagined an apple withering to an inedible core and wailed, “‘O, O my love.’” I dropped my voice to a murmur. “‘My heart, my darling.’” Tears ran down my cheeks, real tears. “‘O Pyramus . . .’” O Apple. “‘. . . do
you yet breathe?’” Do you yet have pulp and juice? I crouched. “‘What do I see? O!’” O! My apple core! “‘My bloodied shawl! My love, O my love, my love, O my love, have you . . . died . . .’” Have you shriveled? “‘. . . for love of me?’”
I dared say no more. I could hardly speak for sadness. I stood and curtsied.
Master Sulow shook his head, as if shaking off a vision. Master Thiel applauded. Masteress Meenore said, “Mmm. Hmm. Mmm.” Had I managed to surprise IT?
Master Sulow picked up an apple, which he pressed into my hand. I bit into it. No fruit had ever tasted so sweet. Thisbe’s tears still flowed as I chewed. He’d said he’d give me an apple if I was to be his apprentice. I would be a mansioner. I had performed better than ever before. Master Thiel had clapped. They’d all liked it. I swallowed. “Thank you, master. I’ll toil and—”
“You earned your apple, but three paying apprentices began their service yesterday.”
I paused, the apple at my mouth. Had I heard right? He’d promised.
“You should take her,” IT said. “You won’t easily find her like.”
“Meenore, do I tell you how to deduce or induce or whatever? The three I have are trainable. They’ll do.” He took my elbow and walked me to the door. “I have no need of a fourth.”
Chapter Eight
The door squeaked shut behind us.
“He never wanted an apprentice,” I said, my elation seeping away. “He knew all along. Did you know?” I finished the apple except for the stem and seeds. I was still hungry.