The troupers of the Big Time lack no art to sway a crowd--or to change all history! (A Change War story.)
the red wig yet, just powdered pale makeup going back to a quarter of an inch from her own short dark bang combed and netted back tight. The age too. Miss Nefer can't be a day over forty--well, forty-two at most--but now she looked and talked and felt to my hands dressing her, well, at least a dozen years older. I guess when Miss Nefer gets into character she does it with each molecule.
That age point fascinated me so much that I risked asking her a question. Probably I was figuring that she couldn't do me much damage because of the positions we happened to be in at the moment. You see, I'd started to lace her up and to do it right I had my knee against the tail of her spine.
"How old, I mean how young might your majesty be?" I asked her, innocently wonderingly like some dumb serving wench.
For a wonder she didn't somehow swing around and clout me, but only settled into character a little more deeply.
"Fifty-four winters," she replied dismally. "'Tiz Januarius of Our Lord's year On
I really wanted to like this story, but like so many sequels it was so different from the preceding book [Big Time] that I couldn't get into it. Greta was so aware in the first book, and there's no explanation of why she is so broken in this, If you liked this, read Big Time. If it was so-so, don't bother.
Not badly written, but with a huge number of holes and unexplained references. Greta was an interesting character, I'd almost prefer a straight (non-fantasy) story with her as protagonist.
Only three stars because of the simple plot dropped into what was mainly smoke and mirrors.
Amnesiac, agoraphobic Greta plays wardrobe mistress to a company of actors between bouts of dizziness. But the troupers play even more roles than at first appears. A deftly written story; I wanted more of it.