“Well, I’d say you’ve done a pretty good job.”
The boy beamed, and then yawned. “Thank you kindly. I’d like to think the old Professor, he might have been proud to see her a-sail on the winds.”
“I’m sure he would have been. In fact, I know he would have been.” Thaddeus looked out the window, into the night. “Why don’t you show me how to fly her, J? Then you can get some rest. It’s going to be a long night.”
{Chapter 15}
HOME TRUTHS
The station that Rémy and Yannick stepped into when they left the train was far less grand than the one in Calais. It was nothing but a raised wooden platform, with a small shack to act as the ticket office. Rémy looked around as they walked the short distance from the station to the town, searching their fellow passengers for the man in black, but she saw no further sign of him. Part of her wondered whether she’d dreamed the entire thing, but then she thought again about the incident with the opal and knew that her misgivings were real.
What was I thinking? she asked herself silently, as Yannick lead her toward a small bakery. Why was I willing to trust Yannick more than I was Thaddeus? Stupid, stupid, stupid.
“Come on,” Yannick said cheerily, unaware of her thoughts. “I think we need a decent breakfast to set us up for the day ahead.”
“I have hardly any coins left, Yannick,” Rémy said tiredly. “Just ask for yesterday’s bread at the boulangerie. I should have enough for that.”
“Tsk,” said Yannick, “that’s not enough to travel on, Little Bird. Leave it to me.”
“Yannick —” Rémy began, but he cut her off.
“No arguments, eh?” the magician chided. “Let a friend help a friend. Sit at that table while I go inside.”
Rémy did as she was told, sitting at a white wooden table outside the bakery in the town’s main street. It was a pleasant scene, but her thoughts were increasingly troubled and darkened further when Yannick returns with enough fresh, delicious pastries to feed an army, along with a large pot of good coffee. It wasn’t the sort of breakfast circus folk could usually afford — unless, that is, they’d stolen it. But before she could say as much, Yannick started talking, his enthusiasm bubbling through his words like a brook through a forest.
“Good news, Little Bird,” he said brightly. “I thought I’d ask the baker if he’d heard of the Circus of Secrets.”
“Oh?”
“How about this? He had,” said Yannick, biting into a croissant. “He went to see it two weeks ago when he was visiting his daughter in Périgueux. That’s about sixty miles away from Moulidars. That was where Claudette’s last letter was sent from wasn’t it?”
Rémy leaned forward, a twinge of excitement struggling through her anxiety. “Yes, that’s right. Périgueux is south of Moulidars, isn’t it?”
Yannick grinned. “It is. The good thing is, now that we know the circus was in Périgueux, we don’t have to go all the way right into Moulidars. We can skirt around it and head straight for Périgueux. Assuming that Claudette is moving the circus once every week, we should be able to find it from there. I think we have a trail to follow, Little Bird.”
Rémy grimaced. “Not a very good one. And that’s a long way away.”
“This is true,” said Yannick, starting on another pastry. “Which is why I think the next thing we need to find is a map and some horses.”
“Horses!” Rémy exclaimed, almost choking on her coffee. “Don’t be ridiculous, Yannick! How on earth are we going to find the money to buy horses? We’ll hitch a lift on a cart or two. That will be fine.”
Yannick shook his head. “And what if there are no carts to be had today? Or tomorrow, or the day after? Or what if they are not going in the right direction?”
“Then — then we’ll walk,” said Rémy, with a shrug. “I’ve done it before, I can do it again.”
“It’ll take too long, Rémy. By the time we get to wherever the Circus of Secrets was, it’ll have moved on. And on, and on . . . we’ll never catch up on foot. No, we need horses — just leave it to me.”
Rémy crossed her arms. “I refuse to believe you have enough money for horses,” she said. “I can’t even understand how you managed to pay for this,” she waved her hand at her half-eaten breakfast. “I couldn’t have!”
Yannick narrowed his eyes. “That would never have stopped you in the past, Little Bird.”
Rémy set her jaw. “I’d steal instead, you mean? Well, I don’t do that anymore. It’s not who I am.”
“Oh? Why not? Because of your black-hearted policeman?”
“Thaddeus doesn’t have a black heart. He’s one of the best men I have ever known. Probably the best man.”
“Then why are you here, Little Bird?” Yannick asked, his voice suddenly holding an angry challenge. “Why are you here, back in France with me, instead of in London with him?”
Rémy looked down at her hands, her fingers tangled together on her lap. She frowned. “Because I am the one with a black heart,” she said quietly. “And I don’t know if it can ever be anything else — in his eyes, at least.” Rémy looked up, surprised and not a little embarrassed that she had spoken such thoughts aloud. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter now, does it? Here I am, back in France, trying to get back to my old life. Or part of my old life, at least. But I don’t want to be a thief anymore, Yannick. Gustave turned me into one, but it’s not who I am.”
Yannick sighed, his anger fading. “Well, neither am I.”
Rémy made a disgusted sound in her throat. “You must think I’m an idiot, Yannick. No circus performer earns enough to save what it would take for you to spend the way you have done since we left London. Where, I might add, you most definitely didn’t have this kind of money.”
Yannick sighed. “I didn’t steal it, no matter what you might think.”
She crossed her arms. “Is that so? Then where did it come from?”
“We both have our talents, Rémy. Yours is on the wire. Mine is . . . different.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
Yannick shrugged. “I am good at . . . persuading people. At making them think they want to help me.”
Rémy shook her head. “I knew it! You’re using your skill as a hypnotist to steal!” She pushed her plate away. “That’s how you could afford this food, is it?”
“No!” Yannick protested. “Go and ask the baker, if you like. I paid him, every centime he asked!”
“Oh, yes?” Rémy said, outraged. “And where did that come from, hey? You still haven’t answered me that.”
Yannick fell silent again.
“It was you, wasn’t it?” Rémy probed.
“What was?”
“The thefts, in London. The jewelry that went missing, the impossible break-ins that Thaddeus was trying to solve. You were behind them.”
Yannick rolled his eyes. “Ach, Thaddeus again.”
“Yes, Thaddeus again. He worked it out, didn’t he? Or he was beginning to.”
Yannick shrugged. “So what if he had? It’s not thieving if someone gives you something willingly. Especially if they don’t even really need it.”
Rémy couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “So that’s how you did it, is it? Those people came to your show, and you hypnotized them into giving over their jewels? That’s what’s paying for this journey of ours?”
Yannick stared back at her with angry eyes. “I don’t know what you’re getting so high and mighty about, Rémy Brunel. I remember you once boasting to me about how you were the best gem thief in Europe — no, in the world, you said. You could break into anywhere and steal any jewel you wanted. And you loved it. What’s so different about you and me, eh? And don’t pretend you didn’t know, anyway. Hypocrite that you are.”
“I didn’t know!”
“Of course you d
id! Maybe you didn’t want to know, but you knew. You were quick enough to get me out of Thaddeus’s reach when he got too inquisitive, weren’t you? Why do that if you didn’t know what was going on? You wanted to come back to France, and I was a convenient way that you could afford the trip. And I suppose it’s better, isn’t it? To let someone else do the stealing? That way you can tell yourself you had nothing to do with it.”
“I didn’t know!” Rémy shouted, though Yannick’s words pricked at her like the point of a knife. “He’s going to think it was me. He already suspected it, and when J tells him that I ran away with you —”
“Oh, in the name of all that’s holy,” said Yannick scornfully. “Stop talking about your ridiculous boy policeman. He’s long gone. As if you two could have stayed friends, anyway. As if you could ever have been anything to each other. You’re a circus rat, Rémy Brunel. You were born one, and it’s where you belong. It’s the only thing you’re good at. What did you think you were going to do? Wed him? Become a respectable little London housewife — hold polite dinner parties under a glass chandelier? Get your little husband to take you to the theater and watch people like us perform like dancing monkeys?”
“Shut up,” Rémy said through gritted teeth.
Yannick sat back in his chair with a disgusted shake of his head. “You can look down on me all you want, Rémy,” he said. “But at least I don’t lie about what I am. At least I don’t pretend to be something I’m not. And you know where you belong, really. Isn’t that why you came back?”
Rémy stood up, pushing her chair back so angrily that it almost tipped over. “I came back to find Claudette,” she hissed. “And I can do that without you. I don’t ever want to see you again, do you understand? This is where we part ways, Yannick.”
“No — Rémy — wait!” Yannick said as she stalked away from the table. “I’ll help you find Claudette. Don’t leave!”
“Don’t follow me,” Rémy warned, not even looking back.
“I’m sorry,” Yannick called after her, his voice suddenly desperate. “Rémy — wait!”
She didn’t listen, even when his footsteps began to follow her. Instead she turned a corner into another tiny, quiet street, and then another and another, until the sound of Yannick’s footfalls faded away. Rémy paused for a moment, thinking. Yannick hadn’t been wrong when he’d said that following Claudette’s trail would be long and difficult without horses. Rémy turned out her pockets, almost hoping that by some miracle, she’d find a forgotten stash of money hidden somewhere inside, but of course there was nothing. She had but a few centimes left. Which meant the only way the trapeze artist was going anywhere was by begging — or stealing.
I will not become a thief again, she told herself firmly. I will not go back to that old life. I will not.
Determined, Rémy headed for the marketplace, instead. With a bit of luck and some charm, she’d be able to hitch a lift on the back of one of the carts as they headed out of the village. There was no way she’d find one to take her all the way, but anything would be a start.
The market, when she found it, wasn’t much busier than the rest of the village. Five or six farmers had driven their carts into the small central square to sell their piles of fruit and vegetables to the townsfolk. Rémy’s heart sank as she realized how few people there were to ask. What was the likelihood that any of them would be going in the direction she needed?
She’d just approached the first farmer when a shout went up from the north end of the square. Turning, Rémy saw two men in police uniforms standing next to a fat man in a flour-dusted apron. He was pointing right at her.
“There!” the man cried. “See? She was eating at my bakery, just minutes ago. I tell you it’s her. It’s the jewel thief from the posters!”
Rémy turned and ran, her nimble feet carrying her swiftly over the uneven cobbles as she headed for another route out of the square. But as she reached it, a group of townsfolk closed it off, unwilling to let her escape. She slid to a stop and then ran again, south this time, scrambling for another narrow street as her ears filled with the shouts of the townspeople and the shrill sound of the gendarme’s tin whistles. Someone rolled a barrel at her, trying to slow her down, but Rémy leaped over it and up onto one of the carts, scattering apples in her wake as she plunged off the other side, almost losing her footing on the cobbles in the process.
She dodged one policeman and side-stepped another, but there were too many people trying to stop her and they had closed off every way out. Rémy realized she was surrounded and launched herself at one of the houses that lined the square, trying to claw her way up the stone walls and to the roof. But before she could make it, she felt something clutch her leg. Looking down, she saw that one of the gendarme had caught her by the ankle. He wrenched her backward, and she tumbled to the ground where she lay, winded, on the dirty street. The market people surrounded her, threatening to block out the sky as the policemen looked down at her.
“Ah, tant pis, my girl,” said the one who had caught her. “You have lost your touch, now, eh?”
{Chapter 16}
PIGEON POST
J was asleep in his bunk, snoring, when the airship struck out over the channel. Dawn was beginning to rise, a pale blush of pink on the far horizon, and Thaddeus looked out on a rose-colored sea that chinked and guttered like a flame. He was so mesmerized by the tiny waves below that he forgot about keeping their heading steady. The lenses drifted apart, slowly, as the airship’s nose turned lazily in a direction of its own making. Thaddeus cursed when he realized and grasped the rudder controls, fighting against a headwind to bring the ship right again. When the ship was in drift, she felt weightless, but in trying to control her, Thaddeus realized the craft was anything but. He wondered for the first time how long the ruby’s gas would last and thought about looking it up in the Professor’s book. Then he decided against it — it was probably better not to know.
Something pecked at his feet and he looked down to see one of the pigeons searching for breakfast.
“Hello there,” Thaddeus said quietly. “Had a good nap, did you?”
The bird cooed slightly before waddling off back to its box. Thaddeus remembered the curious devices attached to them. He checked the heading of the ship and then got up quickly to detach one. He took it back to the controls, adjusting them slightly to account for the moment of drift, and then settled down to examine the gadget. This one had a green stone set in it, in the center of another dial.
“You really liked your dials, didn’t you, Professor?” Thaddeus muttered to himself.
“’Ello,” came a sleepy voice from over his shoulder. “You’ve made yerself a little mate, there.”
Thaddeus looked up to see that J was awake, rubbing his eyes, and then down to find the pigeon at his feet again. “I think he’s hungry,” he said. “Come to think of it, so am I. Did you bring anything to eat? Because I didn’t.”
J nodded, hopping off the bed with hair even more askew than usual. “Always come prepared, that’s my motto,” he said through a yawn, before reaching up to a cloth bag that hung on a hook above his bunk. “These are yesterday’s, but they’ll be better than nuthin’.”
Opening the bag, J threw him a slightly stale bread roll. Thaddeus broke off a piece and crumbled it for the pigeon at his feet. The other two shot down from their roosts and a brief tussle ensued.
“Hey,” said Thaddeus, “there’s enough for all of you!”
To escape the fluttering, he got up and walked to the other bunk, taking a bite of his breakfast as he went.
J laughed. “Well, would you look at that? It’s definitely you ’e likes, Thaddeus.”
Thaddeus looked down to see the pigeon following him. It even hopped up onto the bunk when Thaddeus sat down. “Oy,” said the policeman. “You’ve got your own — this is my breakfast!” The pigeon pecked experimentally at his leg, and then se
ttled down beside it, as if waiting for something.
“Tha’s a bit weird, if you ask me,” said J, heading for the controls and taking over the empty seat.
“Yes,” said Thaddeus with a puzzled frown. “It is a bit.” Putting down his roll, Thaddeus scooped up the pigeon and looked at it. It also wore a little leather collar into which was embedded a green stone, like the one on the dial that was now in Thaddeus’s pocket. The policeman thoughtfully took it out and looked at it. “J,” he said. “Catch this, would you?”
J turned as the dial sailed through the air, catching it with one hand. The pigeon immediately scrambled up and took flight, sailing in to land on the boy’s knee, where it squatted, looking up at him.
“Throw it back again, J,” Thaddeus said and duly caught the dial again. With it came the bird, as before.
“Bleedin’ ’eck,” said J, watching as the pigeon perched on Thaddeus’s leg. “What’s that all about?”
“Another great invention of the Professor’s, I think,” said Thaddeus with an amazed shake of his head. “Pigeons are known to be able to find their way home from miles away, isn’t that right?”
“Sure,” said J. “People race the beggars, don’t they? Take ’em off miles away, then let ’em all go to find out which’ll get ’ome first.”
Thaddeus nodded, holding up the dial. “That must be what these are. Portable ‘homes.’ The pigeons are trained to go wherever its own dial is. I could give you this device, send you off on a train to — I don’t know, Scotland, or somewhere. Then, if I let this bird go, it’d find its way to you, just as long as you kept hold of the dial.”
“Blimey,” said J, clearly impressed. “What’s the point o’ that, though? I mean, other than being able to tell people you’ve got a really clever pigeon. Which, I’ll grant you, is a bit nifty, but really —”
“Messages, J. They’ve all got collars, haven’t they? All you need to do is write on a bit of paper, roll it up tight, and tuck it into the collar. Then they’ll take it wherever you want the message to go to. They’ve been doing that from battlefields for centuries. The Professor just worked out how to make it properly useful.”
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