“Here,” said Rowan. “Hold my coat until the play is done.” He gave Rownie his dust-colored overcoat, and then ducked behind a curtain made of two sheets and a broomstick.

The characters in the play didn’t have proper names. The hero was called Youth, and he went on adventures and kept trying to do heroic things. Rowan, behind a bearded, grinning mask, played Youth’s best friend, Vice. He carried a broken sword, pulled pennies out of other actors’ ears with a quick sleight of hand, and used the pennies to buy wine. He kept trying to get Youth to drink his wine.

Once, Rowan looked out into the audience, caught Rownie’s eye, and winked behind the Vice mask.

“He’ll get arrested,” said Greasy. “They’ll take him away and torture him, and then they’ll make him into a digger.”

“Shut it,” said Vass. “I’m trying to listen.”

“They will not. They will not.” Rownie whispered twice. But it was right at that moment that the Guard marched through the door.

The alehouse became very quiet. Everyone put down their mugs and their plates.

The captain of the Guard stepped onto a stool, and then onto a table. The patrons whose table it was quickly moved their food out of his way. The Captain unrolled a parchment, cleared his throat, and read from it.

“It is not lawful to wear masks in Zombay. A barge sailor has learned his skill and craft, but an actor may wear a mask and mimic his manner without any such skills. If the actor tried to steer a barge, he would run it aground.”

The actors laughed. “Probably,” one of them said.

“A Guard has earned the right to wear a sword,” the Captain continued, “through service and sacrifice. An actor cheapens that right by wearing a mask and swinging swords for show.”

No one laughed. One of the actors was playing a Guard. Wide wooden gears protruded from the actor’s mask where the eyes should be. The small glass gears of the Captain’s eyes rotated in short, ticking increments as he read.

“It is a great honor to be an alderman. An actor can siphon away this honor by wearing masks and robes to mimic the outward show of their office. Therefore, by order of the Lord Mayor of all Zombay, the business of plays will cease. Players are liars. Citizens may not be players and must not pretend to be other than they are.”

The rest of the Guard arrested each actor and led them away from the makeshift stage. Rowan still wore his mask, and the mask was grinning. Rownie couldn’t see what his brother’s face was doing underneath.