You write about your play and its relationship to other plays in the past. Falathar writes back with insights that you actually haven't thought of. It's humbling but useful.
It's an early spring day when Matty finally sends for you to come to her office. You climb the steps with trepidation—is this a good thing or a bad thing? Is she happy with the way the play is running? Or going to tell you that it's closing?
You knock on the door. "It's Osberht!" You hope you sound confident and successful.
"Come in."
You open the door.
Matty is sitting at her desk, the window open to the breeze, the sounds of the stagehands chatting while they refill the oil lamps drifting up from the house below. She looks pleased. "Well, Osberht, I've got some news for you. Sit down."
You perch on one of the hard chairs in front of the desk. "Yes?"
"What do you know about the King of Icemere?"
There's a question out of the blue. "Um, he was a king. In Icemere. About two hundred years ago?"
"Wonderful," Matty says dryly. "You're going to have to do better than that, because he's the subject of your next play."
You blink. "Beg pardon?"
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