You get to your knees, then crawl out behind a piece of scenery painted as a tree with plants around the base. If you stretch, you might be able to unsnag the skirt. Unfortunately, it's very solidly hooked. You stretch just a little more, trying to get the right angle…
…and the painted tree goes crashing over, just missing Viola and leaving you lying in plain sight on the stage.
"Goodness!" Viola ad-libs in Alisse's cultured tones. "My servant is overzealous!"
You unhook the skirt, and the audience roars with laughter.
Way to put on a tragedy. Ouch!
The play finally reaches its third act. Messengers arrive with news of the avalanche. The actors do their best to portray shock and alarm, but you can't help wishing the audience could actually see the avalanche. Maybe you'll put one in your next play and make sure the machinery works.
As the penultimate scene ends, the wedding has become a funeral, the decorations stripped from the garden to leave bare trees draped in black bunting. There's only one more scene, the one where the prince turns his farewell speech to his departing guests to a bitter indictment of them all, accusing each one in turn of having played a part in Alisse's death.
The garden is still lit by the glow of a dozen lamps. Up on the rails, the stagehands are unhooding the big lamps to give the impression of dawn. Diar is preparing to go onstage as the steward. Nichol finally reappears at your side, looking harried.
"One of the extras tripped and hit his head and knocked himself out," he says, in a low tone pitched to reach you but not the audience. "We nearly had a panic when someone started insisting he was dead. Everything has gone wrong tonight that could. If I didn't know better, I'd start believing that there really is…"
Abruptly, the stage in front of Diar is plunged into shadow. You look up to see the oil-fueled lamps that illuminate the stage going out. The lanterns onstage follow, going dark one by one, as if snuffed by an invisible hand.
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