The Gold in the Dark

Chapter Thirty

She awoke suddenly with a shiver, cold despite her thick blankets. The room was cast in dark gray shadows, the sun not yet risen, but she knew she wouldn't be able to fall back asleep.

Might as well get the day started then. She descended the ladder, grimacing as her bare feet touched the frigid floor, and got dressed. Only then did she really consider where she wanted to go. The performance was mere hours away, and last minute practice in an empty studio wouldn't be any help. Wynna and Alindy's room wasn't an option; Alindy, at least, would still be sleeping. That left the dining hall. There wouldn't be any breakfast there this early, but she wasn't hungry anyway. She grabbed yesterday's abandoned book and her pouch of willow bark tea, then slipped out of the room.

She was surprised to find the dining hall not entirely empty as she had expected. Suse and Prin were sitting together at one of the long tables, conversing quietly. They were both pale and bleary-eyed; clearly she wasn't the only suffering from nerves.

Prin motioned for her to join them, and the three of them sat together, chatting idly about this and that. The dining hall door creaked open a few minutes later, and Wynna strolled in.

"Trouble sleeping?" Tia asked her. Wynna stifled a yawn in response and took a seat at the table.

Soon a girl from the kitchen wandered in, did a double take at all the early morning risers, and bustled off with promises of porridge forthcoming. Nobody complained about the simple fare; Tia's stomach was fluttering with nerves, and she guessed the others felt the same.

The frigid weather outside permeated the academy walls, so the dancers spent the morning and afternoon warming up and stretching, in keeping with Master Maaj's advice. If she were being completely truthful with herself, Tia didn't mind the cold. Though it made her limbs feel heavy and slow, it was soothing as a poultice on her ankle.

Before long it was time to go. With Mistress Oerfall in the lead once more, they wended their way toward the fairgrounds. The jollity of the group was subdued this time around, despite the revelers filling the streets.

The space beside the vendor tents was empty no more. People of all walks of life had come to see the performance—beggars, merchants, courtesans, scholars, priests, nobles. The townhouses lining the square already had raucous parties in full swing on their balconies. A troupe of tumblers onstage entertained the crowd, drawing scattered oohs and aahs. As the dancers threaded their way toward the stage, the tumblers' act ended and they were replaced by a man who breathed great gusts of fire over the delighted audience.

Tia, enthralled by the billowing flames, forgot to watch where she was going and collided with a man in front of her. She stumbled back and gasped as her foot caught on the edge of a flagstone. Sharp needles of pain rocketed up her leg. "Watch it, love," the man barked at her, his breath reeking of liquor. She mumbled an apology and hurried past him, not wanting to get separated from everyone else. Stumbling along, she tried to ignore the angry heat building in her ankle, though with every right step all she could think about was easing the pain with a step on the left.

The dance was only ten minutes long. Just ten minutes. But with pain like this, ten minutes could last a lifetime.

After much jostling and a few well-placed elbows to the ribs, the dancers finally made it to the front of the crowd. There, twenty or thirty guards stood in a proud, unmoving circle around several rows of carved wooden chairs. One chair, taller and more ornate than its neighbors, was positioned front row center—a stand-in for a throne.

"No time for gawking," Mistress Oerfall snapped. After a quick word to one of the guards, they parted ranks, and the dancers shuffled around the stage and into the tent.