Free The Magnificent Showboats by Jack Vance

ferocious opponents, then came forth by moonlight* for a tryst with his beloved Lelanie. He sang a wistful song to slow chords from his guitar; she swore devotion as changeless as the love which the fabled Princess Azoë had for her lover Wylas. And now Lelanie drew back in horror and pointed up to the battlements. “There walks the ghost of Azoë! It is a portent!”
* Big Planet has no moon; however the concept of moonlight, with all its romantic associations, is engraved deep within the Big Planet psyche.
    Zamp also drew back to inspect the battlements and to gauge the quality of Damsel Blanche-Aster’s performance. A curtain of gauze surreptitiously dropped through the dimness blurred the image for the audience; Zamp however was afforded a better view, if from an inconvenient perspective; in any event, he had no fault to find with the quality of this ghost.
    The ghost disappeared; Zamp somewhat mechanically spoke his lines and the act concluded with his capture through the perfidy of Lelanie.
    Act Three opened with Evulsifer in chains, facing his accusers; he railed and challenged to no effect; he was sentenced to death and chained to a post, and left in solitude. Evulsifer delivered his tragic soliloquy and now Lelanie appeared on the set and the two performed that ambiguous scene which can be played in dozens of ways. Had she come to taunt him and mortify his distress? Was her heart balanced between love and guilt, cruelty and repentance? Did some evil madness compel her to evil? In the end Lelanie approached Evulsifer and tenderly kissed his forehead, then drew back and spat in his face; laughing almost hysterically she fled the scene.
    Evulsifer must die at sunrise. Already the sky was flushed with dawn. He spoke his final dismal soliloquy and looked up to the platform where Bonko, costumed and masked as an executioner, prepared his axe and block.
    Rays from the sun slanted over the horizon; Evulsifer was unchained from the post. A black cloak was thrown around him and a black hood pulled down over his head, and he was led out through the back of the stage, where the prisoner, similarly cloaked and hooded, had been brought from his cage.
    “Must you be so brusque?” he demanded. “Hold back! I have scratched my arm on this splinter; bring me a bandage!”
    “A trifle, a trifle,” said Bonko. “This way, if you will.”
    The prisoner only kicked and struck out with his elbows; a gag was thrust between his teeth and he was dragged up to the platform where he struggled and groaned in a satisfactorily dramatic manner; four men fought to thrust him down with his neck on the block, dislodging his hood.
    The executioner raised his axe; the first rays of the sun shone across the stage. “Strike!” cried the traitor Toraphin. The executioner struck; the head parted from the body, fell free of the hood, bounced off the platform, rolled across the stage to stare out at the audience. Very untidy, thought Zamp; the illusion had been somewhat damaged. Nonetheless, the audience had been profoundly affected; indeed they seemed paralyzed; all sat with bulging eyes fixed on the head. Peculiar, thought Zamp.
    Someone spoke aghast in a voice half-moan, half-whisper: “Lop Loiqua.”
    Someone else hissed between clenched teeth: “Killed while in black.”
    Into Zamp’s mind burst a single name: Garth Ashgale.
    No time now for dismay. Zamp threw down cloak and hood and called to Bonko: “Stand by to cut the hawsers! Start up the beasts! Ready to make sail! I’ll talk to the audience.” Bonko lumbered off to deal with three tasks at once; Zamp mounted to the stage.
    “Ladies and gentlemen: gallant Whants all: this concludes our entertainment for the evening. Please file from the ship in an orderly fashion. Tomorrow we present an amusing and inspiring program of agilities and magics —” Zamp ducked. Past his ear hurtled an axe. The audience had gained their feet. Each rage-distended face was fixed upon him; men and women