by Allan Cole
Safar nearly spewed out his drink.
Biner chortled. "Got your attention?"
Safar swallowed hard, wiping the spillover from his chin. And he choked, "Go ahead."
Ever the showman, Biner said not another word but climbed to his feet, hooking up the wine skin as he rose. He stumped away on his thick, short legs, leading Safar to a room off the main tent. Biner turned up an oil lamp and Safar saw the room was crowded with trunks. They were huge things, heavy with all sorts of circus gear, but Biner pushed them about as if they weighed nothing at all.
When there was enough room he perched on the lid of a vaguely familiar black trunk, covered with leather and bound by thick iron straps. He gestured at a place across from him for Safar to sit, took a slug of wine right out of the skin and passed it to Safar.
"Sad times," he sighed, "when last we met."
The sigh stirred bitter memories, carrying Safar back to another tented room where Methydia was laid out on a rough cot dying; Safar and others gathered about her. Outside a whole city was in flames, people weeping and wailing as Iraj's soldiers led them to their doom. Through the canvas doorway they could see the smoking ruins of the wondrous flying ship that was the heart, body and soul of her circus.
All dead and dying now. Methydia clutching his hand and begging him to forgive Iraj, to go with him, saying it was his destiny. That it was for the good of all.
Safar was young, easily moved by death bed appeals, and he'd agreed. There were rare days that he didn't think that he'd made a grave mistake.
Then he heard Biner speak and he blinked back to the present to hear the dwarf say, "We wasn't much of a circus after that. Methydia gone. Airship burnt. No spirit in us. So we couldn't put any into the crowds. Our acts felt flat. No spark, no suspense. All of us just going through the motions.
"Not that we didn't care, we just couldn't do anythin' about it. Worse it got, the harder it got. And pretty soon we were hardly sellin' any tickets, cause the word had gone out of ahead of us that we weren't worth seein'.
"We wandered around like that, hittin' whatever fairs we could. Sometimes workin' for not much more'n our suppers."
Biner smiled at Safar, "Not that we were in danger of starvin', thanks to you. We had that fat purse of gold you gave us. Which is how we got through those times. Hells, maybe we would've woke up sooner if we didn't have that cushion. Maybe it made it easier to mope and moan and feel miserable. So instead of the best circus in all Esmir, we were the saddest.
"After awhile maybe you even start liking being miserable, although you don't know it."
Safar nodded. "I've felt that way myself," he said. "It becomes an odd sort of addiction. The emotional version of an opium merchant who loves his wares too well."
"Ain't that so?" Biner said. Then, "But one day we woke up. Threw away the pipe and opened our eyes to what was goin' on around us.
"It was at a performance, last show of the last night at a weevily little fair. You know the kind. Where the folks don't have much more'n corn dust in their pockets-and that's wormy."
Safar smiled. He remembered towns like that when he was in the circus.
"Anyway," Biner continued, "there wasn't but maybe twenty people in the house. And they were so bored even some of them were leakin' away. Then it happened. Right in the middle of the big clown act.
Where Arlain's chasin' me around the ring, settin' my britches on fire?
"All of a sudden a kid start's cryin'. And I mean, really, cryin'! It was the most mournful cryin' you ever heard in your life. Like the world was endin' and the kid's scared and wants its momma but then he suddenly knows, way down deep, that when the world ends so does his momma and that is more than he can bear.
"It stopped me right in my tracks. I'm standin' there, ass on fire, but all I can see and hear is that kid, clutchin' at a raggedy woman beside him, bawlin', 'Momma! Momma!' My heart breakin' with every cry.
And I'm not the only one. The whole audience is lookin' at him and pretty soon they're leakin' tears and behind me I hear Arlain say, 'Poor thing,' and I know she's cryin' too. And so were the others, Elgy and everybody. Like it was a funeral instead of a show.
"Then it hit me."
"Wait a minute," Safar said, "last I heard your ass was still on fire."
Biner laughed. "It sure was," he said. "And maybe that's what got me unstuck, because the first thing that hits me is that my behind feels like it's being grilled for supper. So I put it out. Stuck my butt in a bucket of water like I always do. And there's a hiss and the steam's risin' up around me and I start laughin' at myself. For the first time in ages I could see myself as a clown again, see in my head what a silly figure I was, squattin' in the bucket. Which, when you think about, is what most of us are doin' in real life-squattin' over our troubles without much of a clue that anythin' else is happenin' 'cause our attention is fixed on our sore asses.
"Then I think, well, we're all fools goin' to a fools' hell, so godsdamn it all!
"Damn everything but the circus!
"So I come up out of my bucket and I see that I'm no lonesome genius, because Arlain and the boys are thinkin' the same thing. We all smile at each other and I give the high sign and boom! Elgy and Rabix strike up the band and boom! we start all over again. Right from the top. The whole show. But this time we're playin' right to the kid.
"Every trick, every laugh-getter aimed for the kid, who's still cryin', still callin' for his momma, but after awhile his cries get quieter, tears goin' from a river to a trickle, until just when me and Arlain did the pants on fire number again the kid gets to laughin.' Startin' with a giggle, then a snicker, then an all out belly laugh that wouldn't quit.
"The whole audience is with us now, laughin' along with the kid. Havin' the time of their lives. Don't matter what waits for them outside, how bad it might be, how bad it might get, this is the circus. And when you are at the circus you are free and nothin' can get to you long as the music's playin' and the clown's are clownin' and Arlain is flyin' high over your heads, beautiful and makin' dreams come true in the air."
Biner's eyes misted over at the memory. Then he coughed, coming back. "Jump to the chase. We put on one hells of a show. Sent the folks home happy, especially that kid. Just like the old days. Afterwards, we sat up all night and gave each other hells for forgettin' we were circus people. It's not a trade, it's a callin'. Like a holy mission. And the harder the times the more folks need us.
"But most of all we talked about how ashamed Methyida would of been for forgettin' all that. So the next day we packed up the tents and hit the road again. Playin' the fairs and festivals like before. But this time we had purpose. This time we had heart. We were a real circus and it made all the difference in the world."
There was a respectful silence as both men contemplated circus mystique, passing the wineskin back and forth.
Then Biner winked, humor a bright splinter in his eye. "Guess I've given you enough of a buildup," he said. "Maybe I ought to get on to the feature act."
"I wish you would," Safar said, dry. "I bought the ticket for the big tease. Which was that Methydia sent you. If that's not the case, I want my money back."
"Never fear, my lad," Biner said. "This is an honest circus. The sucker-I mean, the honored customer-always gets what he pays for."
He lumbered to his feet, saying in his ringmaster's voice, "Ladies and Gentleman, lads and lasses of all ages…" hauling the trunk around until it stood out clear in the light, "…I now present to you-"
He stopped in mid cry, hand flourish indicating the trunk. Then he winked again and said, abruptly normal voiced, "Recognize it, lad?"
Light dawned and Safar nodded, excited, "It's Methydia's," he said.
"That's right, lad," Biner said, throwing back the top, revealing a bright jumble of costumes and small boxes and jars and packets and glittering bits of this and that. "It's Methydia's Amazing Trunk of Tricks."
"That's what she called it," Safar said, smiling at the memor
y. "Her Trunk of Tricks. If you needed to fix your costume, or your act, or even if you were sick, she could always find something in the trunk that did the job."
Biner started rummaging, tossing things aside, "Arlain came on this about a year or so ago," he said, talking as he worked. "We'd forgotten all about the thing and it got lost in all our gear. But then one day Arlain had a new idea for her act and she was lookin' for somethin' to help her out and while she was diggin' around she found Methydia's trunk.
"Well, she figured she was saved, because whatever it was she needed just had to be in this trunk. So she started going through it, just like I'm doing now."
Biner was near the bottom, sweeping out the last things. Then he turned, gesturing for Safar to come closer, saying, "And then she saw this…"
Safar looked inside. At first he was puzzled: the trunk was empty. Then in the center he saw a scrap of white lace, no bigger than a thumbnail and he automatically reached to brush it aside, but it stuck there, stubborn. He plucked at it, but it remained fast.
"Just give it a bit of a tug, lad," Biner advised.
So he did, pulling gently, feeling some resistance, then it started to give and he was lifting up a rectangular lid! He goggled at it, realizing it was dangling from the lace, then, wide-eyed, he looked down and saw the hidden compartment he'd revealed. It was about six inches wide and a foot long and lined with thick black velvet. Sitting inside, cushioned by the velvet, was a glass case.
Safar looked up at Biner, hesitant. "Go ahead, lad," the dwarf said. "Take her out."
Gently, Safar lifted out the case. As it emerged into the light it glittered and shimmered with color.
Begging the eye to look closer and be amazed, so Safar did, heart tap-tapping like a cobbler's hammers, palms moist with excitement.
When he saw it he gasped like a boy.
"It's the Airship!" he cried, holding the case out to Biner as if he didn't know already. "Methydia's Airship!"
"Sure it is, lad," Biner said, a big grin lighting his ugly face. "A perfect replica from stem to stern."
And indeed it was, a wondrous ship with graceful decks dangling beneath two marvelous balloons that made it a creature of the air, rather than the sea. All in perfect scale down to the copper burners that in real life provided the lifting power.
The lead balloon bore Methydia's beauteous face, with huge exotic eyes and sensuous lips. Beneath it was the legend: "Methydia's Flying Circus of Miracles!"
"It's so real," Safar breathed, "I feel as if I'm on it."
"There's more, lad," Biner said. "You still ain't seen the whole show. Not by half!"
He pointed at the chest. "There's somethin' else in that compartment. Somethin' you missed."
Safar glanced where he was pointing and saw a small roll of white parchment with a blue ribbon tied around the middle and creased where the edge of the case had rested. He handed Biner the glass case and lifted out the scroll.
He slid the ribbon off and as he unrolled the message he could smell Methydia's perfume floating up from the parchment. It made it seem as if she had suddenly entered the room and all he had to do was turn around and see her warm smile.
Then the scroll was fully open, revealing a simple message written in Methydia's elegant, flowing hand:
"To Safar
My heart, my love
My life
Methydia "
"When we saw that," Biner said, "we knew the ship wasn't just a pretty model."
Safar raised his head, dazed. "What?"
"The airship, lad," Biner said. "It's not a toy! It's real, lad! It's real!"
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
THE JESTER'S LAUGH
Safar goggled at the model of the airship, then at Biner, saying, "What do you mean, it's real?"
The dwarf shook his big head, laughing. "You're lookin' at me," he said, "like you think I just cut the last sandbag loose and now there's no tellin' when I'll ever come to ground again."
He put the glass case on the trunk between them. "Maybe you're right," he said. "Maybe old Biner has finally lost his way. Or maybe I was always lost, which is more likely the case. Point is, crazy or not, Arlain, Elgy … all of us … were so certain what Methydia's gift meant that we've scoured heaven and Esmir to find you.
"We almost gave up a couple of times, because with you on the run from Iraj-duckin' and dodgin' and keepin' out of sight-it seemed like we'd never track you down. Then a couple of months ago we ran into a party of those Asper heads."
"Asper heads?"
Biner grinned. "That's what we call Queen Hantilia and her crew. Not that they're not all nice beings and such. Hospitable as can be. And you couldn't ask for a better audience. Still you have to admit they're damned strange. Happy all the time, but there's something sad and maybe even a little desperate about them."
"So I've noticed," Safar said, dry.
"Anyway," Biner went on, "as luck would have it the group we met up with was late to the party. Or whatever it is they're throwin' here in Caluz. They were broken down on the road and we helped them out. Naturally, we noticed the robes they were wearin', with the Asper symbols on 'em. And just as naturally we knew you were real interested in anythin' to do with the old boy. So we asked and they babbled their heads off about the Oracle orderin' them all to Caluz. Not only that, they said the same Oracle predicted you would be there. That the stars and planets were all linin' up for a big show and you'd be the main attraction. A command performance, so to speak.
"Well, we all figured there were too many coincidences to sail over. And that crazy as those Asper heads might seem, we'd be damned fools if we didn't see what was what. Make a long story short, we went along with them."
He eyed Safar, chuckling. "So here we are … and here you are … so I guess those Asper heads aren't so crazy after all."
"Apparently not," Safar said, smiling. "And they're aren't enough words to thank you for what you've done. You risked your lives for me."
"Some of it was for you," Biner said. "But mostly it was for Methydia. It's what she would have wanted us to do." He hooked up the wineskin and drank. Then, "Now maybe I'd better explain about the airship bein' real and stuff."
Safar took the wineskin from him. "Wait'll I catch up to you," he said. "I think I'm going to need it." He drank deeply, wiped his chin, then said, "All right. I'm ready."
"Actually, it's pretty simple," Biner said. "But I won't begrudge a man a good drink whether he's goin' to need it or not.
"See, it's like this. Methydia always told us the airship was made by two old lovers each tryin' to get the better of the other. She had different versions of the story, dependin' on her moods, but they all pretty much worked out the same. Which was that the airship was built of a rare wood that was extra light, but still real strong, plus it was powered by special spells to help the burners lift the balloons."
"She also said it was one of a kind," Safar pointed out.
"You're as right as you can be, lad," Biner said. "But you weren't with us much more'n a year. So you couldn't of heard all the things she said on the subject. Like the real particulars on how the ship was made.
"The main thing was, she said it was cast from a model. In other words, a small version was made first.
And the airship proper was made from that. We got the idea it was a big damn spell, somethin' that took days to cast. But we always thought she meant the big ship was copied from the model. Measurements taken, or whatever, and copied with saws and hammers and big planks of that rare wood.
"But soon as we found the model and saw that note we started thinkin' differently. She was obviously thinkin' of givin' this to you before she died. Waitin' for the right time, like maybe when you left the circus to go do what you had to do. And believe me, if Methydia thought this was important enough for a farewell gift, it wouldn't be any damned toy. She didn't hold with that kind of silliness and there was no way she'd picture you wanderin' around with a pretty glass case under your arm all the time
just so you could remember her."
Safar touched the delicate crystal housing the model. "I see what you mean," he said, running his fingers along the edge. "I wonder how it works."
"She probably intended to tell you in person," Biner said. "Which is why there's no directions along with the note. Hells, we couldn't even get the case open. It appears like all one solid piece with no seams, much less a lid."
Biner sighed, eyes becoming moist. "I guess she wasn't figurin' on dyin' when she did."
Safar only shook his head. What could he say?
Then his fingers bumped against a small gold stud. There was a hot snap! of static and snatched them away. "Ouch!" he said, sucking on his fingers. Then he looked closer and saw a little red needle point sticking up from the stud.
"Hold on!" he said, excitement overriding the sad memories. "I think I see it!"
There were seven other studs arranged in a pattern. Gingerly, Safar pressed them one by one, but with the surprise gone the sensation was nothing more than a barely painful pinprick. As he touched each stud a red needle point popped up, just like the first.
Biner leaned closer to look. He scratched his head, puzzled. Then he brightened. "Maybe we have to link
'em, somehow," he said. "You know, like a wire or a thread, goin' from point to point?"
Safar nodded. "Let's try it."
He found a rough spot on his sleeve, picked a piece of thread free and pulled it out, snipping it off with his teeth when he thought he had enough. Then he wove the thread around each needlepoint until they were all joined together in a web of thread. He stepped back, waiting. Nothing happened.
Biner shook his head. "Maybe it's some kind of special pattern," he said. "Trouble is, unless you got lucky it could take years before you hit on the right one."
Safar smiled. "Fortunately," he said, "I know a quicker way to find out."
He slipped the little silver dagger from his sleeve and laid it across the web, chanting an old, reliable unlocking spell:
"Conjure the key
That fits the lock.
Untangle the traces,
And cut the knot."