I want the world the way it is, she thought. I want the past the way it was. The past used to be a lot better than it is now.
And the band struck up.
Hwel peered around a pillar and signalled to Wimsloe and Brattsley, who hobbled out into the glare of the torches.
OLD MAN (an Elder): 'What hath befell the land?'
OLD WOMAN (a Crone): ' 'Tis a terror—'
The dwarf watched them for a few seconds from the wings, his lips moving soundlessly. Then he scuttled back to the guardroom where the rest of the cast were still in the last hasty stages of dressing. He uttered the stage manager's traditional scream of rage.
'C'mon,' he ordered. 'Soldiers of the king, at the double! And the witches – where are the blasted witches?'
Three junior apprentices presented themselves.
'I've lost my wart!'
'The cauldron's all full of yuk!'
'There's something living in this wig!'
'Calm down, calm down,' screamed Hwel. 'It'll all be all right on the night!'
'This is the night, Hwel!'
Hwel snatched a handful of putty from the makeup table and slammed on a wart like an orange. The offending straw wig was rammed on its owner's head, livestock and all. and the cauldron was very briefly inspected and pronounced full of just the right sort of yuk, nothing wrong with yuk like that.
On stage a guard dropped his shield, bent down to pick it up, and dropped his spear. Hwel rolled his eyes and offered up a silent prayer to any gods that might be watching.
It was already going wrong. The earlier rehearsals had their little teething troubles, it was true, but Hwel had known one or two monumental horrors in his time and this one was shaping up to be the worst. The company was more jittery than a potful of lobsters. Out of the corner of his ear he heard the on-stage dialogue falter, and scurried to the wings.
'—avenge the terror of thy father's death—' he hissed, and hurried back to the trembling witches. He groaned. Divers alarums. This lot were supposed to be terrorising a kingdom. He had about a minute before the cue.
'Right!' he said, pulling himself together. 'Now, what are you? You're evil hags, right?'
'Yes, Hwel,' they said meekly.
'Tell me what you are,' he commanded.
'We're evil hags, Hwel.'
'Louder!'
'We're Evil Hags!'
Hwel stalked the length of the quaking line, then turned abruptly on his heel, 'And what are you going to do?'
The 2nd Witche scratched his crawling wig.
'We're going to curse people?' he ventured. 'It says in the script—'
'I-can't-HEAR-you!'
'We're going to curse people!' they chorused, springing to attention and staring straight ahead to avoid his gaze.
Hwel stumped back along the line.
'What are you?'