“Little miss is awake!” J’s voice shattered Thaddeus’s melancholy thoughts. “She ain’t getting up yet, but she seems hunky-dory. Apart from the old arm, o’ course.”
Thaddeus headed back to the fire. “I’ll change her dressing in a little while, once we’ve all finished our coffee.” Shielding his eyes, Thaddeus looked up at the pierced balloon, flopping over the side of the airship like an old sock. “Tell me how we can fix the airship.”
J dropped to sit cross-legged on a smooth boulder. “I’ve got spare scraps of oil skin and more needles like the one you used on poor Dita last night. Won’t be easy, but we can patch the hole. It’ll take a while, though. Trust me — stitching old animal hide together ain’t a job for the lazy!”
Thaddeus looked back toward the mountain pass. “I’m not too happy about being stranded here.”
“Ah well,” said J, “I’m afraid there’s nuffin’ I can do about that. We’ll just have to be as quick as we can.”
Thaddeus nodded, swallowing the last of his coffee in one gulp. “We’d best get on then. Let’s take a look at Dita first, though.”
The little girl appeared before he could reach the gangplank. She’d tied her shawl in half around her neck to make a sling for her injured arm.
“Dita,” said Thaddeus, “I should take a look at that arm again, change the dressings.”
The girl smiled and walked down the gangplank with a nod of her dark curls. “No need. J has changed bandage already.”
Thaddeus raised his eyebrows and looked at the boy, who was staring at his feet with reddening cheeks. “Has he, indeed? Well, I’m glad he’s being so attentive. How are you feeling otherwise?”
“I’ve had worse,” Dita shrugged. “Thank you for the . . .” She paused, not sure of the word, and indicated stitching with her one good hand.
Thaddeus smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Come on, you two!” J called impatiently. “Stop nattering. We’ve got things to do, ain’t we?”
Dita blew a strand of hair out of her eyes with a puff of her cheeks. “Ah yes,” she said with a cheeky grin. “And you boys must do all the work, no?”
{Chapter 28}
THE HOMECOMING
By lunchtime, Rémy and Yannick had made their way up and out of the lush valley that the magician had insisted was a shortcut. Beyond the narrow pass, the road wound down into another stretch of forest, this time punctuated not only by the road but also by a fast-flowing river. Not far in the distance, more great mountains reached their stony forms up to threaten the sky, clouds bumping against their height. Rémy urged her horse back into motion, and they trotted down the road, the magician following behind.
They hadn’t gone far before a faint flash caught Rémy’s attention. At first she thought it was merely the sun glinting off a menhir in the forest, but then she saw it again and stopped. It came again, a bright gleam that swelled into existence one moment and was gone the next. Rémy squinted, but couldn’t make out what was causing the flash. It was definitely something in the trees, reflecting the sun’s rays.
“There’s something up ahead, just off the road, by the look of it,” Yannick observed, coming to a stop beside her as his horse puffed and stamped.
“Yes, but what?” Rémy muttered. “And how far away is that?”
Yannick shrugged. “A good few hours’ ride on these steeds, I’d say, perhaps more. We’ll be fine as long as it isn’t more of those bandits.”
That was exactly what Rémy had been afraid of. Because it looked to her as if something was camped in the forest not far from the road, and who else would pitch camp in such a remote place if not bandits? There was no town as far as the eye could see. It seemed as if the forest was deserted, and who would choose to make their home here, even a temporary one, unless they were hiding from something? She glanced down at her ride. The animal was already showing signs of tiredness after the long climb out of the valley, and she knew that if they were attacked, they’d never escape — not on horseback, at least.
“Come on,” Rémy decided eventually, resigned. “There’s no other way back except the way we came, so we have to carry on. We’ll have to be ready to try and lose them in the trees, that’s all.”
They’d been riding for an hour when Rémy began to think that what they were seeing was something very different. They were close enough to see flashes of color through the leaves — reds and yellows, bright blues and pinks. If these were bandits, they were ones who were fond of standing out. Rémy’s suspicions were further aroused when she spied a large gray mass meandering among the trees. She wasn’t sure at first, thinking that perhaps it was just the shadows playing tricks with her eyes, but then she saw it again and knew exactly what it was.
“It’s not a bandit camp! It’s a circus — our circus!” Rémy cried. “That’s Constance the elephant! But what are they doing here? There can’t be anyone nearby to come to a performance. Why aren’t they in a town?”
Yannick didn’t answer as they spurred their tired horses on down the slope. The nearer they got, the clearer the circus became. There was old Anita’s caravan, painted with all the flowers of her home valley in Andalucia, there was the lion’s cage, with the two big cats lying sleepily in the leaf-dappled sunshine. There was, of course, no sign of Gustave’s old home, but Rémy searched for and saw Claudette and Amélie’s caravan, nestled in the shade of a large oak tree. Relief flooded through her. At least they were here. At least they were safe.
She frowned, though, as they drew closer still. Something definitely wasn’t right. The Big Top was nowhere to be seen. All the colors she had spied were of folded tents, still stowed on their carts. By the sun it was well after midday, but there was no sign of the kind of activity that should usually take place on a performance day, and if the tent wasn’t up now, there was no way they’d get it up in time for that evening. And yet the circus must have been pitched here for at least a day, perhaps two — otherwise they wouldn’t have caught up with it so quickly.
“Something’s wrong,” she muttered, more to herself than Yannick. “What are they doing here?”
They drew close enough that they were spotted. A shout went up as one of the folk milling about the caravans recognized Rémy. It was the chief clown, Augustus, though he wasn’t in costume and there was no trace of his usual absurd makeup. Rémy waved back, happy to see a familiar face, and soon a crowd had gathered by the road as she and Yannick approached.
“Little Bird!” exclaimed Augustus, clasping her in a bear hug as she dismounted. “We thought never to see you again! Grew bored of London town, did you?”
Rémy grinned as she pulled away. “Just thought I’d better check on you all, Augustus. I know you can’t do without me!”
Augustus chuckled, but Rémy could see anxiety beneath his jolly features. His eyes flicked to Yannick, but instead of offering a greeting, he merely nodded a curt welcome.
“Augustus —” Rémy began, but she was interrupted as something small and scruffy fastened itself to her leg.
“Little Bird, Little Bird!” It was Rolf, one of the small boys charged with looking after the circus’s various animals.
“Rolf!” Rémy hugged the energetic bundle. “And how are you? How is Constance? Is she behaving, or is she still as grumpy as ever?”
“Still grumpy,” said the boy, letting her go. “She’ll be pleased to see you, though, you’re one of her favorites. And so will Dominique! She’s missed you — doesn’t like anyone else to ride her.”
“Dominique!” Rémy thought of her pony, who had served her so well over the years. “I have missed her too, Rolf, so much. I will visit soon. But first,” she said, looking up at Augustus, “where is Claudette? And what are you all doing here? Why aren’t you at the Jamboree, or somewhere further north — or at least in a village?”
A hush fell over the bubbling crowd. “Best as
k Claudette that yourself, Rémy,” Augustus said quietly, his gaze flickering once more toward the still-silent Yannick. “These have been strange days for us all, believe me.”
A new murmur rippled through the crowd. It parted as Claudette appeared, as beautiful as ever, her long chestnut hair loose and drifting in the valley breeze. She held little Amélie by the hand.
“Claudette! Amélie!” Rémy pulled Claudette into a hug. “I’ve missed you both so much!”
Rémy pulled away, confused when Claudette did not hug her back. She was looking over Rémy’s head at Yannick, who, in turn, was studiously looking elsewhere.
“Claudette?” Rémy asked, “What is it? Aren’t you glad to see me?”
Amélie stepped forward and wrapped her little arms around Rémy’s waist. Because Rémy was not wearing her opal she could not tell what the child was thinking, but she was so grateful for the hug that she could have cried. Rémy hugged her back as Claudette finally looked at her. Her face was grave, and Rémy could see lines on her pale forehead where before there had been none.
“What are you doing here, Rémy?” she asked, her voice low and careful.
“What do you mean, what am I doing here? You didn’t write for weeks. We’d promised to write, remember? I was worried something had happened to you. And I missed you — all of you. So I decided to come home. Aren’t you pleased to see me, mes ami?”
Claudette looked at her from tired eyes, as if she could not really comprehend Rémy’s question. “You led him to us. Why would you do such a thing?”
“What?” Rémy asked, looking back to the magician, still standing silently behind her. “Don’t you remember Yannick? He was a boy with the circus, many years ago. I bumped into him in London — he needs work, Claudette. He’s a good magician. And doesn’t every circus need a good magician?”
“He has lied to you, Little Bird,” said her friend, “if he told you that was why he wanted to join you on the journey here.”
“What do you mean?” Rémy asked, still more confused. “I don’t understand, Claudette. What is happening here?”
Claudette looked into her face, as if trying to decide whether she was telling the truth or not. The realization shocked Rémy. Claudette was her best friend, but right now it seemed she did not trust or believe her. The thought made Rémy sick.
“Do you want to tell her, Yannick? Or shall I?” Claudette said roughly.
“Claudette,” Yannick said, his voice placatory. “Listen, there is no need for this.”
“Yannick was with Le Cirque de la Lune as a child, that is correct,” interrupted Claudette, ignoring him. “But did he not tell you that he returned to us several months ago, as soon as Le Cirque des Secrets had set foot once more on French soil? He was waiting at the docks of Calais when we arrived, with a desperate story of hardship and saying that he needed a position.”
“What?” Rémy asked, her head spinning. She turned to look at Yannick, who did not meet her eyes.
“He joined us then,” Claudette went on, “and at first we were glad to have him. As you say, Rémy, a circus can always use a good magician, and Yannick is certainly that.”
“You never told me this,” Rémy said to Yannick. “Why didn’t you tell me you had been with the circus again?”
“Because he left us . . . abruptly,” said Claudette. “I told him I never wanted to see him again. And now you have brought him straight to us, Rémy.”
“Aren’t you going to tell her why, Claudette?” Yannick’s voice was angry, and Rémy looked over to see that he was standing with his arms crossed defiantly. “Why don’t you tell her, hmm? What my great crime was. Go on — see if she can understand it. She accuses me of lying to you, Rémy — you’re supposed to be her closest friend. So why don’t you ask the great Claudette Anjou who she really is?”
{Chapter 29}
TERROR IN THE FOREST
Claudette’s face darkened further, fury alight in every clenched muscle of her face. There were a few moments of silence. Rémy stared at her friend, and suddenly it was like looking at a stranger.
“Very well,” Claudette said at last, her voice calm and very quiet. “My real name is not Claudette. My real name is Arriete, Comtesse Cantal de Saint-Cernin. I am what the children’s tale calls ‘the Lost Comtesse.’ This is the secret I have kept for many years, Little Bird, and until recently, this is the lie I have told you and all who travel with me.”
Yannick, his arms still crossed, surveyed the assembled circus folk. “So you told them, but none of them saw sense, is that it?” He shook his head in disgust.
“Ah, but we are none of us as clever as the great Yannick, eh?” Claudette spat angrily.
“You — you are the Lost Comtesse?” Rémy repeated, dazed. “Surely not! I can’t believe it . . .”
Claudette offered a faint smile. “Believe me, Little Bird, I wish it were not true. I have done my best to hide all traces of that lost child. But Yannick here found out the truth. I don’t know how, and I don’t care to know.”
“So that’s why you were so interested in Claudette,” Rémy said hoarsely. “I thought you were joking. But you knew all along.”
“Whatever he told you, it’s a lie, Rémy,” Claudette said. “He is interested only in the reward he’ll receive for turning me in to the Comte.”
Yannick made an exasperated sound and threw up his hands. “Listen to the woman! It’s absurd. You make it sound as if you’re some kind of wanted criminal. As if being found is the worst possible thing that could happen to you. I don’t understand you, Claudette. You’re rich! You’ve been rich since you were born. You don’t need to scratch a living in the dirt of French roads, reading the worthless fortunes of people who should be changing your chamber pot. All you need to do is make yourself known, and your life — Amélie’s life — will change overnight. Why would you want to run from that?”
“You are a fool, Yannick. A damned, blasted fool,” Claudette roared. “Who put up the reward? Tell me, who did?”
Yannick blinked, taken aback by the strength of her outburst. “The Comte de Cantal.”
Claudette nodded. “Cantal is the last remaining of my birth family’s line, the one clear inheritor of all its remaining wealth. Do you know the stipulation my parents placed on the inheritance of their fortune? The reason why he hasn’t inherited already? The reason he might need to find me, instead of wanting to see me stay lost forever?”
Rémy looked at the magician’s face and saw a flicker of doubt pass through his eyes, though his jaw remained stubbornly set and he said nothing.
“My parents’ will stated,” Claudette told them, in a calm, cool voice, “that their wealth was to remain mine in perpetuity. The only way the money can be released from their vaults is if I make myself known and can incontrovertibly prove my identity. Or,” here she paused, glancing down at her daughter as if not wanting her to hear. “Or if my death can be proved with the same certainty.”
Silence followed Claudette’s words. It weighed upon the gathered circus folk like a dark shroud.
“I am the only thing standing between this man and an inheritance said to be the greatest still remaining since before the Revolution,” Claudette said into the void. “Without me — dead or alive — he cannot inherit. The money is the only reason he seeks me. Once he has me, who is to say what he will do with me or with my parents’ wealth? Anyone who has heard of the Comte de Cantal knows his reputation. Money of that magnitude can be nothing but evil in his hands.”
Yannick shook his head. “That’s absurd.”
“Is it?” Claudette’s eyes glittered harshly. “You forget, magician, that I am a teller of fortunes. I have seen my own. It splits into two paths, just as my life did when I was taken. One path is peaceful, happy. The other is full of death and destruction. I know which I choose for myself, for my child. I don’t want money. I want to be
left alone to live my life in peace. Which I would have been had you not arrived. I told you before, I did not want to be found. I sent you away and tried to escape, tried to leave no trace of where we were going. And yet now here you are again, and I wonder what you have brought with you this time?”
Rémy spoke, her voice dry in her throat. “We are alone, Claudette. I swear. No one was with us, and no one followed us.”
Her friend’s face was grim. “Is that so? But surely you know by now that Yannick here does not always need to do his own bidding. He sent no messages?”
“No,” said Rémy. “No, I don’t —” Then she stopped, remembering the messaging device she discovered Yannick tinkering with on the road. Hadn’t he been talking into it? He’d said not, but . . . The buzzing returned, filling her ears with distraction.
“You’re wrong, Claudette,” Yannick said, “about everything. All the Comte wants is his family around him. You’re his last remaining relative, however distant the connection may be. I am here with Rémy because he and I thought she could talk sense into you. Because all the Comte is offering you is a better life. He didn’t have to send me. He would have found you eventually. But he wants you to understand how kind and benevolent he is. I know Little Bird is clever enough to understand that, even if you can’t. Tell her, Remy. Tell her that she has nothing to fear.”
The Ruby Airship Page 18