Chapter Eleven
THE STAR THAT COULD NOT SHINE
As dawn swept across the sky, a mist of marvels and mystery settled over the fields and sleepy village. High above the glistening whiteness, Harper came to a standstill. All around her, circus folk were resting, getting a few moments of sleep before the big show later that morning. She’d had no luck finding her friends, and she sank down wearily beside the candy apple stall and pulled the storm bloom from her pocket. Its lemony scent reminded her of home. As Harper examined its dusky gray petals, she noticed something odd. There was writing on each petal, writing that Harper recognized, writing that spilled from the pencil of one of her best friends.
Harper, be brave!
This at once made her smile.
We are coming to save you. At midnight after the last show, go to the Heavens of the Circus. We will meet you there and tell you the rest of our brilliant plan!
Keep yours ears open for any stories you hear about a woman who glows like a star. She is somewhere trapped in the circus and we need to find her.
I’ll explain all soon.
Love always,
The poet, the boy with the wolf, and the girl with a bird in her hair.
Harper sat bolt upright. Star. The word seemed to shine in her mind—the same word she’d seen etched in gold on a burned poster. She opened the Scarlet Umbrella and crawled underneath it, pulling out the scroll of sheet music and the dazzling costume she’d found in the abandoned tent. It was quite clear now that the costume did indeed look like a star made of flames.
“A Fire Star,” Harper murmured as she ran her eyes over the sheet music. The tune was bold and wonderful and filled with light. And, even though Harper didn’t know it, it sort of felt familiar. Then she noticed the signature of the composer at the bottom of the page and her heart froze.
The Wild Conductor
In a dizzy blur, Harper scrambled to her feet, closed the umbrella, scooped up Midnight, and started to head to the back of the circus, toward the cobweb bridge. The strange gray land beneath the tents had left her with a creeping feeling in her stomach. But there was nothing else for it; if Harper wanted to find out what had happened to the Wild Conductor or who this mysterious glowing woman was, she would have to face the figure with ember eyes.
Midnight found the gap in the cloud very quickly, and before Harper had time to doubt herself, they were climbing back down into the land below. At first, Harper thought the tent was empty, but then shadows seemed to shimmer, and from within the gloom the figure emerged, her eyes flickering like candles.
Harper felt the impulse to run, but she made her feet stay, forcing herself to smile. Midnight sprang into Harper’s arms, tugging her piccolo from her pocket and pushing it into her hands. The world felt too still for music, but Harper began to play anyway—only the notes were incredibly hard to get out, each one taking almost all her breath as if she were playing the flute underwater.
The figure’s eyes seemed to brighten with hope. Harper closed her own eyes and thought only of the song, and the way her mother had learned to sing underwater, pushing the notes out as much with her mind as her breath.
For a while, the cloud seemed to fight her, swallowing away any sound she made, but Harper played on with every ounce of strength she had until finally the air started thinning, giving way to the song. Then every note came out in a rush, ringing through the sky. Both Harper and the figure with ember eyes burst out laughing, and Harper noticed something extraordinary. The woman’s heart was softly crackling like a low-burning fire and she was hovering just off the ground. Harper smiled and whispered one word: “Star.”
“Yes,” said the beautiful glowing woman in a lilting accent. As the song ceased, Star floated back to the ground, her eyes dancing with smiles. “You have a wondrous gift.” She smiled, and Harper nodded shyly. But Star reached out and very delicately touched Harper’s hand.
“No, you don’t understand,” she said. “For many years, I have tried to glow, but my heart was so sad it could not shine. At first, my friends visited, but no one could play their instrument through the mist. After many years of trying, they gave up, leaving me alone in my quiet, gray world. A girl with a heart of fire unable to shine.”
Harper listened carefully. “So you are the Fire Star?” she asked and Star nodded. “Why do you stay here?” Harper cried.
“Othello Grande was so angry when I fell in love with his best friend that he banished me here. I can only leave if my heart glows, but music doesn’t work here—so I am trapped,” Star said breathlessly. “But with your music, perhaps I could escape.”
Harper gave a nod of agreement. “And you will—my friends and I will see to that. But first, tell me—what was the name of the musician you fell in love with?” asked Harper, sounding very much like Ferdie.
“Professor Armoury,” whispered Star. “Also known as the Wild Conductor.”
Harper held her breath. Suddenly, all of the tricks and schemes and twisted plans the Wild Conductor had used to try and win back his place in the Circus of Dreams made sense. It had all been to rescue Star from the wicked clutches of Othello Grande. Harper didn’t dare tell Star the very man she had fallen in love with all of those years ago was somewhere just below the circus. Instead, she pulled her small golden harp out of the folds of the Scarlet Umbrella and beckoned Star deeper into the tent.
Chapter Twelve
THE GIRL WHO ESCAPED
Much, much later, when the sun had fully risen, then slipped slowly through hours of daylight until it was ready to set again, Harper stood in a tent the color of diamonds. The children’s orchestra was just about to perform—for the sixth time that day. Harper and Midnight were completely exhausted, but they knew this was the last show before the rescue mission began.
At that very end of the show, all the storm-stirrers would head to the canteen tent to eat their supper, so Harper would need a good excuse to scuttle away to the Heavens of the Circus. It was going to be tricky, but she would have to get her act wrong and then pretend to go and rehearse.
“Just stick with me, boy—whatever happens,” she whispered to Midnight, giving him a good-luck kiss. Harper was a little extra nervous about this show anyway, as her mom and dad were secretly watching.
As the audience took their seats, Harper climbed into the Scarlet Umbrella, set Midnight upon its brim, then rose into the air. The crowd gave an astounded gasp and, at the very back of the tent, Aurelia dabbed a proud tear from her eye and Hugo beamed lovingly. When Midnight started to play the piccolo, the crowd burst into peals of delighted laughter and Harper found herself laughing along. She leaped up onto the umbrella’s silver handle in a single smooth bound and began to perform on her harp. The tempo quickened and the Scarlet Umbrella whirled around like a leaf on an autumn wind. A storm-stirrer swooped by, throwing Harper the bassoon. She gave it a loud honk and tossed it high. A cheer echoed up from below her, and Harper spread her arms like wings, waiting to catch the cymbals. She saw them come flying toward her. Her heart beat like thunder in her ears and Harper knew it was now or never. Even though it went against her every instinct, she closed her eyes and let the cymbals clatter to the ground.
The crowd gasped, and Harper leaned backward, falling delicately into the air. Storm-stirrers dived, seeming to come from every direction, catching the cat, the bassoon, and the cymbals, but Harper slipped through their fingers, sailing down toward the crowds.
Hugo and Aurelia were both on their feet, but in a flash of scarlet, the umbrella spun upside down and caught Harper in its dome, knocking a few of the audience’s hats off along the way. Then the umbrella swept around the tent collecting all the storm-stirrers, Midnight, and the instruments until an entire circus troupe was balanced all over it. Then it hung perfectly still as if it had all been part of the act. The crowd could hardly contain their joy. Hugo and Aurelia could hardly contain their relief. And Harper could hardly contain her excitement, knowing she had the perfect excuse to miss s
upper.
Harper raced to the Heavens of the Circus, where stars glittered, night birds sang softly to each other, and three child-shaped shadows, along with one of a wolf, tiptoed hand in hand toward her. Harper ran at her friends in a bolt of happiness. “It’s so good to see you.” She laughed, flinging her arms around them.
“Great to see you, too.” Ferdie grinned, giving her a scarf-filled hug.
“Hope you’ve been enjoying life in the circus,” said Nate, beaming as he squeezed Harper’s hand.
Liesel jumped up and down impatiently. “We need to tell you our brilliant plan—there’s no time to lose.”
Moments later, all the children stood in a little line. Ferdie, Harper, and Nate had bound their umbrellas together with edentwine, and they held them proudly in the air. Far below them in the sleepy village, a church clock chimed midnight and Liesel gave her hair a wild shake. Storm awoke and shot into the sky, looping a ring around the moon and calling out a signal.
From within the swaths of starry cloud pedaled the Wild Conductor, the cloudian spilling a melody across the sky. At once, Ferdie, Nate, and Harper all began to play their instruments in the most awful manner—a racket of screaming strings, badly banged buttons, and shrill shrieks on the harmonica—to cover the sound of the cloudian’s lovely lullaby.
Liesel sprang onto the back of the wolf, and after a small pat from Nate, Smoke bounded back into the circus, with Liesel pirouetting upon her silvery back as perfectly as any performer. At the sight of the wild beast and the dancing girl, storm-stirrers came rushing out of the canteen tent and formed a cheering crowd. Othello Grande put down his supper and barged his way roughly forward, weighing whether he thought Liesel and Smoke had enough talent to belong in his circus.
From high above the circus, the Wild Conductor glanced down and saw that Othello was occupied. He began to pedal harder as the magic of the cloudian’s music softly took hold of the string of umbrellas and lifted them into the air, carrying Harper, Ferdie, and Nate with them.
Ferdie reached out a hand and managed to pull himself down onto the back of the black bicycle, Harper and Nate gliding behind. Harper gave the Wild Conductor her biggest smile. She was out of the circus—she was almost free. Normally, no one ever escaped Othello Grande, but Harper had left once before, so the magic couldn’t hold her. Part one of the plan had worked—now they just needed to get the Wild Conductor into the circus.
“Take the handlebars,” said the tall man, giving Ferdie a wink. “Just steer straight for the fields below.”
Ferdie gave him a serious salute and pedaled on as the
Wild Conductor climbed elegantly onto the thread of edentwine and walked along it like a tightrope, using the bright umbrellas as stepping stones. With one final long-legged bound, he sailed through the night and landed softly in the Heavens of the Circus, checking all around before removing his hat and turning his satin coat inside out. He raised part of it over his head like a hood, covering his magpie-feather hair so he was quite unrecognizable. Othello, who was still watching Liesel, would never know it was him.
Then he took a large gulp of air, as if the night might give him courage, and he set off through the Circus of Dreams—the circus that was once his home; the circus in which Star was trapped. This time, nothing would stop him.
So he didn’t see that high on the horizon, Harper and Nate had quietly switched umbrellas. Harper now held a dark gray umbrella, while Nate and Midnight rode beneath the Scarlet Umbrella. As both children tucked their legs up, they looked almost the same. In fact, it was impossible to tell them apart.
Chapter Thirteen
STRANGE ORCHESTRA
In the center of the Circus of Dreams, Liesel and Smoke were putting on such a wonderful show that Othello really was charmed by their skill. He loomed toward them with a sly grin, and Liesel knew they didn’t have long. She couldn’t risk getting trapped in the circus as well. Gritting her teeth and hoping that her friends had had enough time to escape, she gave the wolf a little nudge with her foot.
Sharp, silver jaws snapped open, white teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and with an ear-splitting snarl, the wolf pounced, knocking Othello Grande clean off his feet. Everyone in the circus went rigid with fear. The only sound that could be heard was the clang and clatter of badly played music. Then, to Liesel’s horror, the glorious tune of the cloudian came pattering by on the breeze.
Othello struggled ungracefully to his feet, the wolf long forgotten, his beady eyes scanning the sky for the cloudian. With a snap of fingers, one of his eagles swooped down and he dived onto its back, soaring up toward the silhouette of the black bicycle and the trail of bright umbrellas.
“No one escapes from my circus,” Othello boomed, hovering on the white-winged bird as he glared at the children. Ferdie started to pedal for all he was worth, trying to get away, but it was no use. The bird’s snapping beak grabbed the Scarlet Umbrella and snatched it away, ripping the unbreakable edentwine and circling back to the circus.
Ferdie peered up at Harper, who was curled beneath the gray umbrella, and gave her a serious wink. As Othello’s bird swooped away, Harper dived through the night and onto the back of the bike. She quickly unfastened the twine, setting the gray umbrella free, so it could drift down to the fields below. Then, together, Ferdie and Harper cycled toward the land beneath the circus, a melody of midwinter moons and snowy forests ringing through the clouds.
In the Heavens of the Circus, the powerful bird tossed the Scarlet Umbrella down. Othello’s cackle blasted the night, but then very abruptly his laughter rattled to a stop. The child beneath the umbrella was not Harper. It was a boy with skin smooth as night, holding a harmonica. How could he have been so foolish?
“Where is she?” Othello bellowed, shaking Nate roughly by the shoulders.
“She’s safe in the village,” Nate replied breezily, pointing way down below at the gray umbrella nestled in the rolling fields.
Confusion clouded Othello Grande’s small eyes. “But how did she get out of my circus?” He scowled, his mind slowly beginning to work out exactly who Harper was. “The girl who escaped …” he said. Nate gave a simple nod and the furious ringmaster cast him aside, shoving him dangerously close to edge of the Heavens of the Circus.
Nate gave a long, low whistle and with a magnificent bound Smoke appeared, still carrying Liesel.
Othello backed away from the wolf’s snapping jaws.
“We have to go to the land below the circus,” Liesel whispered to Nate as she slipped lightly off of Smoke’s back. “Midnight can lead the way.”
The two children, the cat, and the wolf darted away without so much as a backward glance at the red-bearded ringmaster. Othello’s eyebrows knitted into a huge thundery frown, and he strode after the children.
By the time Nate, Liesel, Midnight, and Smoke reached the gap in the cloud, the entire circus was following. The cobweb bridge swayed beneath the weight of so many feet. The circus troupe shivered as they felt the coldness of the air, and took in the fog-like cloud that swirled around them, slowing time and whispering silence. Some of them had been here before, long ago. But others didn’t even know this place existed, and were startled to see the tombstone-colored tent rising out of the shadows like the towers of a haunted castle.
“Who lives here?” asked Skylar, but at that moment her question was answered.
A figure with sparkling eyes stepped from the tent. She was the most enchanting person Liesel had ever seen, a vision of shimmering smoke and glittering sparks. Nate could feel her incredible warmth and something else, like the crackling of excitement before a bonfire, and with a small grin, Nate realized that this strange dark land no longer felt empty of magic. It felt charged with power and hope.
“Raise your instruments and follow me,” came a voice the children recognized, and they broke into a cheer. For there amid the dream of winter stood a man in a black satin coat. A man who was a far better conductor than Othello Grande could ever hope to be. A m
an whose music could set your heart on fire.
The Wild Conductor’s hands were trembling. He hardly dared look at the woman with ember eyes. Instead, he put his energy into the song, holding his conductor’s wand as if it were magical, and conducting the entire circus. Those who had instruments raised them up; others opened their mouths to sing, while the storm-stirrers got ready leap and spin. Yet, to everyone’s astonishment, no sound came out. It just seemed to vanish into the cold dreamy mist.
“Ha,” came a mean voice from above.
The cobweb bridge shuddered as Othello came crashing down it. But he laughed darkly when he saw the confused crowd in front of him.
“So, you thought you’d rescue your precious Star, did you?” He snorted, laughing rudely at the Wild Conductor.
“Yes,” answered the Wild Conductor in a steady voice. “And that’s exactly what I will do. You can’t keep her trapped in a dream of winter forever.”
Othello wrinkled his nose, rather like a big pig. “I can do whatever I like,” he whined. “It’s my circus—I cast the spells and none of them can ever be broken.”
The Wild Conductor frowned deeply, then waved his wand high. His odd orchestra strained to play their instruments, but still no sound came out. Othello chuckled cruelly. The figure with ember eyes held his gaze, her head high and proud.
Then they heard it: a gentle plucking of strings, as soft as a wish. It was the unmistakeable sound of a harp.
A girl with dark hair and sea-gray eyes appeared upon a drift of silver-lined cloud, which formed the top of the cloudian. On the bike below, Ferdie peddled with everything he had, and the air around them quivered. Othello turned white with fury as a flurry of musical raindrops and harp music filled the sky.
Harper and the Fire Star Page 4