Luke tried to sit in a chair, but it too held piles of yellowing scripts, so in the end he perched on the edge of the desk. It was large enough for eight people to dine around with room to spare. When he sat, pistachio shells slid onto the floor. Finding a sound pistachio among them, he cracked it and tossed it into his mouth.
“Well? Did living there bring you any inspiration?”
Leonis’s flushed face had already returned to normal. The greatest realist on the continent immediately set aside the useless past when profit appeared before his eyes.
“Never mind inspiration. Isn’t it enough that I’m alive? I’m someone who nearly took a catapult stone to the back of his head.”
“Don’t you artists always produce a masterpiece after nearly dying? Isn’t that so?”
Leonis was chuckling now. Luke laughed along and snapped his fingers.
“Aha. So I should have guessed. That too was the work of a great promoter. Make Lucius Quinto narrowly escape death, then have him write The King of Mea Returns. Teach Delphinad’s citizens what a siege is while you’re at it. Of course! How could Delphinad produce a spectacle without precedent and Leonis have no hand in it?”
Leonis’s eyes widened as he tried to understand. Then he frowned and quickly waved his hands.
“Enough joking. Talk nonsense like that and Lord Onestra will drag you off without anyone noticing.”
“What is this? Hiding behind someone like Lord Onestra isn’t like you. It seems to me you don’t want a share of this job. There is a proper promotional organization, you know.”
Leonis had now entirely forgotten the half-bundle of manuscripts Luke had stolen away, and stared at his mouth. His pure passion for promotion sometimes made Luke almost want to admire him. That was also why Luke could not wholly hate the vampire who had sucked away every last bit of glory and profit from his works.
“You do know how much Delphinad’s eyes and ears are focused on this affair now?”
Leonis let out a low groan, then answered.
“I’ve postponed the opening of our new work for five days.”
Leonis ought to have that much instinct. Luke replied, “Naturally. Never mind the ordinary seats. Even the privileged section will be empty.”
The privileged section admitted only nobles. Because nobles with little else to do came to the theater every day, it was almost never empty. Leonis frowned.
“The privileged section too? Have you heard anything? Are General Nikephoros’s friends organizing a party to cheer for him?”
“That isn’t my concern, but perhaps you haven’t heard how many more nobles have been hanging around Hawk House? This isn’t a subject for commoners alone. Go to the Emerald Turban these days, and even people of rank ask one another what ‘Shadowhawk’ means and what sort of person he is.”
The Emerald Turban had lately become Delphinad’s most popular club among the wealthy, selling hundreds of cocktails a night at prices that did not fit the rough life of common people. Naturally, it was not somewhere a penniless idler like Luke would be admitted. But on several occasions, idle nobles curious about who had written a play they saw had invited him, and he had become acquainted with bartenders and managers. He had little trouble getting a duke’s ale or two there and enjoying himself.
“Huh. There really hasn’t been much worth seeing in Delphinad lately.”
“Reflect on that, Mr. Promoter. But you know fighting and fires are the best entertainment, don’t you? This affair has both. You can’t compare it to some awkward little play. However big the Grand Theater is, how can it compete with using Delphinad itself as a stage and smashing things up?”
“That’s why I’m planning to give up and quietly stay out of it.”
“Oh, even the god of promotion has lost his touch. Calling this once-in-a-thousand-years opportunity a reason to give up! Perhaps I should have gone to Sarn instead.”
Sarn was another promoter. Though he could not rival Leonis, he earned a fairly steady income. He had once tried to lure Luke away. A crease appeared between Leonis’s brows.
“If you’ve smelled a gold mine, stop holding back and explain. Surely you don’t mean to sell me an idea?”
Luke paused. He waited until Leonis was just about to shout, then raised a hand to stop him.
“No. I owe you far too much already. But if you find what I say plausible, agree to just two conditions. Then I’ll hand it all over.”
To Leonis, Luke had long been like a living gold mine. Having been a promoter who defined an era, he knew how rarely one met a young poet with such promise. Though he did not generously divide the profits that came into his hands, he trusted Luke’s instincts in his own way.
“Fine, fine. I’ll listen. Tell me your conditions.”
The instant Leonis answered, Luke spoke without hesitation.
“First, lend me some money.”
Leonis shouted, incredulous.
“You brat, you’re making fun of me!”
“Oh, it’s for the project. Expenses! I won’t steal it. I’ll repay you the very next day after this is over. If I can’t, I’ll sign an exclusive contract with you. I’ll write you a play every year until it’s all paid back.”
Luke was already virtually Leonis’s exclusive writer, but they had no actual contract. Leonis glared, thought for a moment, then asked, “How much?”
“I’ll tell you that in a little while. Let’s discuss the second condition first. You’ve canceled the Grand Theater booking for that day, haven’t you?”
“I just told you. I’ve canceled the opening.”
“Book it again.”
Their eyes met. The corner of Leonis’s eye twitched. Silence passed briefly. Then, with an expression of disbelief, he spoke.
“You can’t mean…”
“That fence we put up for the final duel in The King of Mea. You still have it, don’t you?”
Leonis did not answer again. His expression suggested many thoughts. Then confidence slowly rose in his eyes. It was possible. If only he could persuade two people. Luke was confident he could persuade at least one of them; otherwise, he would never have proposed it.
If this came off, it would undoubtedly be a sensation. Vast numbers would come. Secret sales of tickets at inflated prices would multiply the profits. If so…
Then Luke gave a little laugh.
“Hey, Mr. Promoter. I’m still explaining the conditions.”
Did he mean the real money lay elsewhere, not in admission fees? An inscrutable light flashed in Leonis’s eyes. Luke, whom he had thought merely a poet, was instructing him, a genius of promotion, in making money? But Leonis did not let pride interfere with matters like this. There was money to be made.
“Fine. Say I’ve accepted all the conditions. What do I do now?”
“Rent a ground-floor office in a good location, with plenty of room for people to queue and an entrance that opens wide.”
“Of course. Then?”
“Hire three scribes with good handwriting, at triple pay. On condition they work only until the day of the duel. And prepare plenty of certificate paper.”
“Good. What next?”
“Set up a drinks stand. We’ll discuss the menu…”
Leonis, who had been taking notes on paper, suddenly jerked up his head and asked, “What?”
Luke chuckled.
“Trust my talent as a promoter for once. If this succeeds, perhaps I’ll give up writing scraps of plays and start an agency.”
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