‘How does he do that?’ she squealed in a whisper of disbelief to Griff at her side.
‘They’ve both always been bendy,’ he said frowning. ‘But they practise morning, noon and night to keep improving their suppleness.’
‘I can’t even bend forwards and touch the ground, let alone do that!’ she exclaimed, her eyes shining with her enthralment.
‘Oh, they’ve hardly begun,’ Griff said, not in a bored voice, but certainly in a tone that said he had seen it all before. ‘Watch.’
The burly Chauncey and Jasper arrived to pick up Matthias, who was now recognisable only as a ball of flesh, his face grinning out from somewhere between his knees, although Tess couldn’t work out how his legs were ever in such a position. To her delight, mixed with a sort of horrified thrill, they threw the ball that was Mat, still smiling, towards his elder brother, who was also in the oddest of positions. Phineas was on his chest but his legs were curled behind him so his toes were above his head. His feet were pumping in the air in a circular motion but they deftly caught Mat the Ball of Flesh, and Phineas began to spin his brother frantically. Mat hilariously began to sing from within the mound and the crowd erupted into cheers and then joined in the chorus of the song. It was a showstopper. But each new move of dexterity claimed even louder applause. To finish they both passed their bodies through a large embroidery hoop at the same time.
‘That’s impossible,’ Tess breathed.
Griff laughed. ‘They do it every night.’
‘How?’
‘I’m not sure you want to know.’
‘I do,’ she said, eyes shining with a ghoulish wonder as she watched the two boys seemingly change shape.
‘Well,’ he began, with a wicked glint in his eye, ‘right now they’re dislocating their arms from their shoulders,’ and he revelled in her soft squeal.
‘Ugh,’ she shuddered, staring at Griff with disbelief and revulsion.
He grinned. ‘How else could anyone fit through an embroidery hoop that small?’
‘Please don’t tell me they move their hips out of their sockets?’
‘They might,’ he said, shrugging and laughed aloud at how his friend cringed. ‘Come on, you can see the rest of their show another night. We’d better go and get the creatures.’
‘They’re going to be so nervous,’ she said.
‘They’re going to be fine. You’ve explained everything?’ She nodded seriously as they walked. ‘They know why you need them to do this?’ Again she nodded. ‘Then Davren will reassure Elph and Helys. What about Rix?’
‘Rix obeys no-one, not even me. But he will cooperate if I ask him to and I’ve asked him nicely a dozen times.’
‘Is it a good idea to bring him into the tent?’ Griff asked, remembering how nervous the veercat had been.
‘No, it’s not, but Tyren’s not giving me a choice. I have to do as I’m told because he said he won’t pay for their food if they don’t perform. They’re just lucky I don’t have Gaston with me.’ She found a small smile.
‘You know you always smile when you talk about him.’
‘He’s so fearsome. But I love him. I spoke to him today.’
‘What?’
She nodded. ‘Just a brief chat. He doesn’t like me interrupting his life. He’s quite happy to drop in on me, of course, when he’s missing me. But he’s a loner. He likes his own time, his own peace.’
‘Is he alright?’
‘He’s unhappy at what’s happening to us, although I’ve told him nothing about Master Tyren and his threats. But I’ve told him we’re with friends now.’ She squeezed Griff’s arm.
Griff scowled. ‘Tyren has no right to threaten you like this.’
She sighed. ‘He has every right, Griff. He’s the one who paid to keep me out of the orphanages and workhouses.’
‘I know, I know, but I’m only now realising that’s how he works. He’s doing the same to me.’
‘What do you mean?’ she asked, as they hurried down to the copse.
‘I’ve been trying to talk to you about this,’ Griff said, looking around. ‘I’m planning to leave.’
Tess stopped in her tracks, stared at him, saying nothing, her expression filled with accusation.
‘I’ve got to get away, Tess. He’s threatened me over this mind-reading lark that he’s onto. He’s planning to make piles of money from me. I don’t care about the money. I’m not someone who performs and I’m certainly not going to let him use, for his fun and his gain, something I keep secret for very good reason. I don’t want to stay here any longer. I’ve got to leave.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘So you’re running away—is that it? You’re going to desert me and the others,’ she hurled at him, pointing at the copse where the creatures lurked.
Griff scanned the area nervously. ‘Shush, Tess! Someone will hear us.’
‘I thought we were friends. I trusted you. I allowed the creatures to trust you.’ Her voice was wavering.
‘Wait! You’re getting this wrong. I’m not running away from you. In fact I’m not leaving without you.’
Now Tess stared at him as though he were truly mad but he also glimpsed the flare of relief in her eyes. ‘Without me?’
‘Without you or your friends,’ he finished. ‘We go together.’
‘How?’
Griff shrugged. ‘That’s what I have to work out. We can’t just run away. They would find us too easily.’
‘The Night Forest! We could go back there,’ she offered, eyes shining now.
‘No, Tess. It’s too obvious—they’ll hunt us. And we can’t go back to my home either, for the same reason. We’ll have to think a plan through, and that’s another reason we don’t rush into this. Come on, call Davren. We have to hurry.’
Lute rode in grim silence. He didn’t dare think about what Janko’s men were doing to Pilo, although his friend was arguably the best swordsman in the palace. Still three against one seemed like an impossible task. Would they kill him? He wanted to tell himself that there was no chance of this happening, but fear had him in its grip and demons seemed to whisper to him that Pilo would not survive. Janko would not let him live. If Janko was prepared to overthrow the King, even stoop so low as to threaten the life of the Prince, then he was surely not worried in the slightest at taking the life of a mere servant. No, Pilo could not survive this and Lute realised that his friend would have known this and still he had sacrificed himself for the crown.
He stopped Bruno, slipped from the saddle and retched. Hot liquid shot from his mouth as his eyes squeezed tightly on the tears that arrived at the same time. He was crying for his parents too but Pilo was more than a servant, more than a simple aide. He was the person Lute was closest to, and if he was honest, the person Lute loved most in his life.
And riding away from him was the hardest thing Lute believed he’d ever have to do—even if he lived to be as old as his father, older even! It was Pilo’s brave voice and Pilo’s courageous face that had given him the valour he’d needed to leave. His only friend was likely dead because he gave his life to save Lute’s. Lute’s twisting belly began to unclench and he knew it would be wise to drink some water from the flask that hung off Bruno. As he straightened he noticed the whistle dangling from his neck and as he reached to grip it, he was reminded of the magic pulsing through it. And if this magic existed in his world, then surely other miracles could occur. Lute set his chin and without realising that he was balling his fists, he urged himself not to abandon hope that Pilo might miraculously survive Janko’s betrayal.
And if he did not, then Lute would not allow Pilo’s life to be given cheaply. He made a promise to himself as he proceeded on that terribly lonely journey towards Tarrow’s Landing that he would avenge all the wrongs that Janko had committed this day. His thoughts turned to his parents. What would become of them? And he remembered Pilo’s careful avoidance of discussing the King and Queen. Perhaps he believed they were already dead. Lute realised his wandering, sorrowf
ul thoughts had permitted Bruno to slow to the point where they were all but strolling. This would not do. He had given his word to Pilo that he would get himself as fast as he could to the ferry. Janko’s men had found them, so they knew roughly the direction he was headed in and would surely give chase. There was no more time to dwell on those he loved. Right now it was all about speed and escape.
He could see Tarrow’s Landing in the distance. Little plumes of smoke rose from the chimneys of the town that had sprung up around the landing point. This was one of the narrowest parts of the very large River Caravo, which flowed around Floris and virtually down the middle of the realm. It was here that people could cross the Caravo from east to west of the realm for trade, to visit relatives and to find work. As a result it was one of the busiest spots in the kingdom for travellers, and this also meant a certain amount of anonymity. A great many people moved to and fro across Tarrow’s Landing, using either the public row boats that plied the river at a fee or the bigger public ferry that was essentially a large canoe that could hold more people. To transport animals there was a raft-like structure that was hauled by horses at either end. This was the method Lute would have to use to cross with Bruno.
As Lute gazed out across the picturesque scene—already lively with activity on the river, where a small flotilla of both public and private boats crossed back and forth—he imagined that, should he ever be King of Drestonia, he would build a bridge at this point. And it would be free. He would charge no toll for people to cross the Caravo to see their families or to better their lives by finding work or selling the fruits of their labours in the field. He nodded.
‘This is a good plan,’ he murmured. ‘But come on, Bruno. Right now we have to cross the great river ourselves and find a man called Bitter Olof.’
14
Master Tyren called the excited audience to order. They’d all paid their five jaks to enter a small tent, where both Tess and Griff would show their skills. Its size meant the spectators could get much closer to the performers but Griff knew it was not for that reason that Tyren had dreamed up this special ‘elite’ tent, or ‘Beracc’ as he called it. Tyren had introduced it in order to charge showgoers twice. They paid to go into the main Beracca to see all the acts but a few performers were held back to present their talents in the Beracc, and people had to pay again if they wanted to see these very special acts. He was cunning indeed.
‘And now, folks, we would like to show you some creatures that some of you have likely never seen before and probably never will again, as well as some you may never have heard of.’
Griff peeked out from a slit in the curtains. ‘Packed to the rafters, Tess.’
‘Well at least Tyren will be happy,’ she replied, grimacing.
‘That’s right and that’s all you need. Him happy and not giving you another thought. That’s how we’ll slip away,’ Griff murmured for her hearing only. ‘We have to make him feel very secure and convinced that you are cooperating and offering people a hugely popular performance.’
‘Here I go,’ she said as they heard Tyren introducing her. ‘Wish me luck.’
‘Ladies, gentlemen, children, may I present Miss Tess and her very own Marvels of Nature,’ Tyren roared with a flourish of his hands.
Applause went up and Griff gave her a reassuring smile as the curtains were pulled back and Tess entered the arena. Initially there was a gasp from the audience as they laid eyes on the beasts. Davren followed last and by the time he entered the ring the silence was palpable, like a glue holding the audience together as one in a hushed, awed void of wonder. Davren’s arrival stifled all the odd coughs or sneezes. A pin could drop and anyone could have heard it.
Griff noticed that most of the show folk had also crowded around the rim of the Beracc. They’d all heard about the amazing creatures that had joined the show and yet so few people had laid eyes on them. No-one was going to miss this opening performance.
Tess’s part of the show was very simple. She introduced each of the creatures, telling the audience about their living habits but not revealing that each had a name. Davren and Rix predictably continued to draw the most interest; people pointing and staring, and while Rix won cheers for his acrobatics in gliding and his obvious strangeness, it was Davren who made the watchers once again fall silent in awe.
Griff had to admit that Davren looked very beautiful. He was an extremely handsome centaur anyway with his dark wavy hair, bright blue eyes and thick, dark lashes. But tonight he stood especially tall and strong despite his youth and gave everyone a glimpse of the powerful creature he was yet to become.
‘And if that’s not enough to impress you, let me now demonstrate why Miss Tess here is rather special herself.’ Tyren turned to Tess and nodded, wearing a contrived smile of sincerity. Griff felt ill. It was only hours ago that Tyren had been threatening her life.
Tess turned to her audience. ‘Um, well, I can speak with my creature friends using my mind.’
A sound of astonishment rippled through the crowd.
‘Prove it!’ someone called.
‘Er yes, alright,’ Tess said. She frowned, looked towards Rix and suddenly he leaped from the timber struts at the very top of the tent where he had escaped to and glided expertly down to land in Tess’s arms. ‘I, er, I called him to me.’
Griff noted the crowd didn’t appear especially impressed.
‘You could have trained him to do that,’ someone grumbled at the front.
Griff shook his head slightly with disappointment. Already the awe of moments earlier at these magnificent and strange creatures was wearing off. What was the world coming to if it couldn’t remain impressed by Tess’s companions?
Tyren glared at her to do something.
Elph and Helys suddenly pulled themselves up onto two feet and spun around awkwardly. ‘Well, I just asked them to do what you just saw…and they did.’
No-one applauded, someone even muttered that they might be asking for their money back. Griff was appalled at their rudeness but also at where this might leave Tess, and going by the scowl on Tyren’s face it didn’t take much imagination to guess.
He had to do something to rescue the act, keep Tyren happy and thus Tess and her creatures safe. Against his own better sense and looking smart in his new performer’s outfit—dark breeches and a white shirt with a black kerchief tied around his neck—Griff stepped out.
‘Good evening, folks. If the audience would like to ask a favour of Miss Tess very politely, I’m sure she will oblige and ask it of her friends. That way, you can see that no amount of training could prepare them for the randomness of your requests. Keep them simple please but let them be your own.’
‘But you may have your own carnival folk in the audience. You could be fibbing.’
‘And who are you, sir?’ Tyren said, nodding appreciatively at Griff for his help and gesturing with a small wave that he would take over from here.
‘I’m Councillor Ord,’ the man answered and people nodded their heads politely as he threw a severe glance around the tent. ‘I say you ask this request of the Mayor. We all trust him and we all know him.’
‘Very good,’ Tyren said confidently. ‘Is the Mayor present?’
‘I’m Mayor Whitten,’ a silver-haired man said, pushing through the crowd. He looked slightly embarrassed.
‘Alright, Mayor Whitten. Ask something of one of the creatures and we shall have Miss Tess request it of them.’
The Mayor frowned in thought but it was the councillor who spoke up again. ‘Ask the centaur to bow to our Mayor,’ he yelled out.
Tess immediately shook her head. ‘He doesn’t bow to our kind. Please, we must respect his ways.’
A murmuring of displeasure moved through the crowd and Tyren rounded on Tess, his own expression suddenly thunderous again.
‘Er, I’m sure he will bow to Miss Tess, however,’ Griff offered above the murmurings. He gave Tess an encouraging nod. ‘Ask him,’ he urged.
She looked over
at Davren, who was frowning. He had heard what they wanted of him but for the purposes of the show it was best that Tess made the request. Griff had already cautioned him not to let on that he could understand anyone but Tess. It was a secret Griff advised they should protect. Tess must have asked him because he smiled and without hesitation executed the most perfect bow to his friend, which had the audience exploding into wondrous applause.
‘As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, she really can talk to her creatures without saying a word,’ said Tyren triumphantly. ‘Oh wait, the centaur is moving…er, Tess.’
‘He’s fine, Master Tyren, he will not hurt anyone. I think he wishes to pay special salutations of a different kind to the Mayor.’
Everyone watched Davren saunter across the arena, his hooves making the softest thud on the dirt floor, until he stood before Mayor Whitten. Then solemnly he placed a hand across his chest and nodded his head.
‘That, Mayor Whitten, is a formal noble greeting in centaur language. I thought it more appropriate than to ask this proud creature to communicate in our gestures,’ Tess said politely. And then added, ‘He asked me to say a very warm hello and thanks to all gathered here this evening.’
The Mayor looked to be speechless but the crowd erupted into wild applause, loving the drama of the moment.
Tyren obviously decided that they’d all enjoyed enough for their five jaks and if they wanted to see more of the centaur or any of Tess’s strange creatures, they could see the show they would put on the next night.
‘Thank you, folks,’ he said, wrapping her act up for the evening. ‘Come again, please. We’ll be at Monkton Green tomorrow night and I promise another eye-opening show. Now, for those who are holding blue tickets—who have already paid to see our next jaw-dropping performance—please remain where you are. Those holding red tickets should now leave the tent. Mr Chauncey will be checking…Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.’
The Whisperer Page 12