Rat sniffed the air and twitched his ears. “Just about now,” he answered. “Follow me.” And just like that, a friendship began between a girl who longed to be a mouse and a boy who looked like a rat.
They climbed up a series of ladders to the heavens of the circus. When they reached the top, Liesel’s mouth fell open, for before them was a company of wild circus kids. Amid them stood Skylar the storm-stirrer. Liesel grabbed her violin and played three sharp notes.
Chapter Eight
THE CHILDREN OF THE CIRCUS
To Liesel’s amazement there wasn’t just one storm-stirrer, but a whole troupe rehearsing in the heavens of the circus—a landscape of hot air balloons that bobbed like silky moons. She scrambled after Rat to the very top of a huge indigo balloon to watch a display of cartwheels and acrobatics.
A small pink dove flew into her hair, mistaking it for a nest, and Liesel giggled, tucking her violin safely away and cupping the bird in her hands.
A flash of a white-tipped tail caught Liesel’s eye as Midnight strolled across a balloon. She waved as Harper, Nate, Smoke, and Ferdie appeared at the top of the ladder. The performing children stilled their rehearsal and stared cautiously at the wolf. They were afraid of seeing such a fierce creature so close, and without a leash.
The air was so still it felt solid, but Harper knew what to do. She picked up her Mexican banjo and played a few bars of a lively tune. Ferdie followed on the button accordion, and Nate started tooting on the trumpet.
Liesel jumped up and began pirouetting around the wolf, her feet as fast as raindrops. Smoke howled, and with a sudden bound, raced in a ring around the heavens of the circus, her fur still dappled with stars, making her look like a firework. The storm-stirrers cheered.
Rat added a new melody on the melodeon, and Skylar began to sing. Birds came dipping and diving from the sky in a stunning storm of falling feathers. For a moment every child smiled, the music binding them together with the promise of new friendships.
When the song finished, all the circus kids gathered around the wolf in amazement, and Nate told them the wonderful story of how he had found her as a pup, mistaken her for a dog, and brought her home.
A girl with freckles whose name was Sunbeam scooped up Midnight. “Tell us another story,” she murmured, so Harper told them about the night of Midnight’s arrival and the way he had simply turned up at her little flat at the stroke of twelve and never left. The name had seemed perfect.
“We don’t have any cats up in the sky,” said Sunbeam.
“Well, you must come to the City of Clouds,” cried Ferdie. “It’s full of cats! That’s why the birds live in birdhouses, to keep them safe from hunting cats”
“Our birds are tethered to us, but they fly freely,” said Skylar, “towing the circus, chasing the wind.”
“Nobody—not even Othello Grande—knows where the circus is headed,” said Rat.
The children gasped, and Sunbeam whispered, “And if you are born into the circus you are bound by magic and can never leave.”
The storm-stirrers all nodded in agreement. “There has only ever been one child who got out,” said Skylar, “and nobody knows how. Except that it happened in the midst of a storm.”
Nate, Ferdie, Harper, and Liesel could have sat there all day, listening to the secrets of the circus, but at that moment a siren sounded, and the storm-stirrers all sprang gracefully to their feet.
“That’s the call for dinner,” yelled Skylar as she dived onto the back of a white-winged eagle. “We’ve got to go, but come and see us again soon!” Then she was gone, and the four children, the cat, and the wolf found themselves alone on the silken balloon.
It was only Nate who noticed that the hot air balloon didn’t feel hot or airy at all. It felt strong and trustworthy and very similar to something he knew well, only he couldn’t think what.
“Do we have to go home?” sighed Liesel, who could quite easily have run away with the circus.
“I suppose we do,” said Ferdie, “but we can always come back tomorrow.”
They cheered up at this thought and went skipping back through the snow-white city, taking turns to play their instruments, the smiles on their faces glittering through the mist brighter than the stars they wore in their hair.
Chapter Nine
HARPER’S NOTE
When they reached the Tall Apartment Block, Harper headed straight for the ballet school on the third floor. She found Madame Flora with Isabella Lucas and Snowflake, the ballet school cat, all busily practicing their pas de chats.
“The circus was magical.” Harper sighed and described the many floating tents.
Isabella clapped her hand to her heart. “How long is the circus in town?” she cried, fluttering the wings of her costume like a butterfly.
“Nobody knows,” Harper whispered. “It moves on when the wind changes.”
“I must go at once,” Isabella cried, throwing a colorful shawl around her shoulders and flying out of the door.
“I visited the Circus of Dreams long ago,” said Madame Flora with a faraway look in her eye. “I sipped a sweet tea that tasted of memories, and I heard a woman singing underwater.” As she spoke she rose onto perfect points and vanished into her studio flat, returning with a postcard and a cake wrapper. “These are the two souvenirs I saved from the circus.”
Harper studied them closely. On the front of the postcard was a faded artist’s drawing of a beautiful woman on a trapeze, underwater. Next to the drawing were the words Aurelia: Sea-singer.
Harper held the card very still. Aurelia. She had heard that name somewhere before.
Next she picked up the cake wrapper. It was old and crinkly, and on the back was stamped the logo of a little circus tent. Beneath were the words Hugo: Baker of Wonder and Wishes.
Hugo. Harper had heard that name somewhere before, too. She stared at Madame Flora and gulped. “Can you remember when you visited the Circus of Dreams?”
Madame Flora thought for a moment. “Well, it must have been about five years ago. Around the night of the Fearsome Storm . . .”
Harper clutched the faded postcard to her chest, and squeezed the crinkly wrapper tight. Then she was on her feet, hammering three sharp notes on the cherry-wood piano, tearing out the door, and fleeing up the stairs. Madame Flora had no idea what was going on. All she could do was follow.
Harper ran as if she might never stop, for she had realized something wonderful. Into her little flat she fled, grabbing the note that Great Aunt Sassy had kept safe for her. As her friends piled into the room, she held up the postcard and said in a quivering voice, “The sea-singer from the Circus of Dreams is called Aurelia.” Then she slowly unfurled her fingers from the cake wrapper. “And the baker from the Circus of Dreams is called Hugo.”
The room went very quiet. All Harper could hear was the beat of her heart, loud as thunder. With a trembling finger, she pointed to the note. “My parents’ names are Hugo and Aurelia,” she whispered.
Ferdie, Nate, Liesel, and Madame Flora all gave enormous gasps.
“So your parents are with the Circus of Dreams?” asked Nate in a voice so soft, it was quieter than snow. Harper nodded. “That makes perfect sense.” He smiled.
“Why?” asked Ferdie, who was feeling as shocked as Harper.
“Those hot air balloons that keep the circus afloat,” said Nate, “well, I don’t think they’re balloons at all. I think they’re flying umbrellas!”
The whole room began talking excitedly. Madame Flora did an accidental curtsy, Smoke growled, Midnight meowed, Liesel shrieked, and Ferdie almost fell over in amazement. “So your Scarlet Umbrella came from the Circus of Dreams,” he breathed. “That’s why the lightning-leader looked at you so strangely—I think she recognized you.”
Liesel’s eyes widened with astonishment. “You are the child who escaped the circus!” she cried. “You are the girl from Skylar’s story.” Harper slowly nodded, as she realized it was true. Liesel stamped her foot cross
ly. “Why can’t anything that exciting happen to me!” she huffed.
Ferdie glared at his sister, but Harper took her hand. “Come back to the circus with me, and help me find them,” she said.
“Let’s all go together,” said Madame Flora, plucking a harmonica from her pocket and readying herself to march through the mist.
But no sooner had they stepped onto the stairwell than Isabella Lucas appeared. “Oh, Harper,” she said sadly, “I rushed to reach the circus, but it had already left.”
Harper felt the Mexican banjo slip from her hands and fall to the floor. She might have sunk to the ground herself if Midnight hadn’t leaped from the darkness and landed in her arms. His loud purr was such a comfort. She hid her face in his silky black fur, trying to hide her tears. “I came so close to finding my family,” she whispered, “but now I’m too late.”
Chapter Ten
THE TERRIFYINGLY TALL MAN
“Too late? Never!” said Ferdie, and he snatched up the Mexican banjo and threw his arm around Harper’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, Harper—as long as there are clouds in the sky, there is hope,” he announced in his most poetic voice.
Nate reached through the shadows of the stairwell and took Harper’s hand. “We’ll find them, Harper. There must be a way.”
Liesel closed her eyes and thought as hard as she could, in her most mouse-like manner. “We need to find someone who knows the circus,” she said. “Someone magical.”
Nate put his head to one side. “You’re right, Liesel,” he cried. “We need to find the Wild Conductor!”
Harper wiped away her tears, suddenly feeling much better.
“If there’s any way to find a wizard,” said Madame Flora wisely, “it’s going to be through music.” With a swish of her classic tutu, she disappeared off to ring the meeting bell and ask once again for the help of the residents of the Tall Apartment Block.
As a deep, dark dusk swept across the city, and Cloudburst rain broke from the sky, the residents of the Tall Apartment Block brought a marvelous collection of instruments to the roof. There was the grand cherry-wood piano, an ancient double bass, Ferdie’s button accordion, Harper’s clarinet, Nate’s brother’s Roman tuba, and a xylophone.
“The last time we saw the Wild Conductor was on the banks of the River North,” said Nate, as he helped Mariana and Paulo Lucas wind Great Aunt Sassy’s sheets into a rope of lavender silk.
“I doubt he’ll be there now,” said Ferdie, joining his parents as they fastened the rope to each instrument.
Elsie Caraham tied the end of the rope to the Scarlet Umbrella’s handle and helped Harper and Nate climb in. Isabella swept them into a hug and murmured, “If the Wild Conductor is still trying to create an orchestra of animals, then he might be at one of the birdhouses.”
Harper hugged her back as tightly as she could. “We’ll start looking at the Central Aviary,” she said with a smile. Nate gave a shrill whistle, and Midnight and Smoke both shot into the umbrella.
“Good luck!” said Ferdie, punching the air.
“Be careful, little Harp,” said Peter fondly.
“We’ll wait for you right here,” cooed Madame Flora.
Liesel was trying very hard not to sulk. She desperately wanted to go and seek the man with the magpie-feather hair. But she knew there just wasn’t enough room in the umbrella. She pulled herself together and in her bravest voice said, “Go find the Wild Conductor!”
With a soft whoosh, the umbrella rose into the air, a rope of instruments trailing below. Night was falling around them, and Star-stealer clouds darkened the sky.
“Do you remember last summer when you got every cat in the City of Clouds to follow your tune?” asked Nate. Harper nodded. “Maybe we could try the same with birds.”
Harper smiled. “All right,” she said and carefully climbed over the edge of the Scarlet Umbrella and slid down the rope of lavender silk, with Midnight close behind.
As the Scarlet Umbrella hovered high above the Central Aviary, Midnight gave a loud Meow! and began to play the cherry-wood piano alongside Harper. Harper closed her eyes and let the evening lead her to a lullaby of long-forgotten dreams, the sadness of the day and the hope of the future flowing through her fingers into the ivory keys. Softly, her tune rained down on the city and the night birds awakened. Two green parakeets stretched out their wings and copied the melody, and a yellow-tailed parrot followed. Then a chorus of owls took up the harmony.
“It’s working—keep playing!” cried Nate from the umbrella.
The more Harper played, the more birds joined in, and what a delightful sound they made—a sound that could hit you like an arrow of feathers and make you long to fly.
Nate crouched next to his wolf and stroked her star-tangled fur. “Listen up, girl,” he whispered, “keep your eyes out for the Wild Conductor. If you see him, howl like a hurricane!”
Smoke gave a sharp growl. Then she peered down across the City of Clouds, her golden eyes like two small candles. A shadow swept through the streets and the wolf bared her teeth. The shadow seemed terrifyingly tall, with a long satin coat darker than night. The wolf’s fur bristled. The shadow slunk from a back street to an alleyway, then beneath the birdhouse. Moonlight fell on the shadow’s face and the wolf howled like a winter wind. Harper jumped and stared down from the cherry-wood piano. There below her was the man with magpie-feather hair. The Wild Conductor.
“Good evening,” he said in a deep, velvety voice. He was still a little bitter about last summer when Harper had won Midnight back from him, but despite himself he was pleased to see both the children.
“Evening,” called Nate, as the umbrella drifted slowly down, until the cherry-wood piano was level with the tall man’s eyes.
“Remember how you wanted to find the Circus of Dreams?” asked Harper. The Wild Conductor gave a fierce nod.
“Well, we might be able to help you,” cried Nate.
A sad, dark laugh escaped the Wild Conductor’s lips. “Impossible!” he said dryly. “You must charm them with a talent or summon them with a skill, or put on a performance that will make their hearts stand still. Not even my talent is enough.” Then his face twitched with an idea. “Unless, of course, you are asking me to reform the cat orchestra?”
The children both smiled. “Well, you did say a cat orchestra could summon a circus across many seas,” Harper answered.
The Wild Conductor mulled over his thoughts. “It would have to be something more spectacular than just the cats,” he muttered. “It would have to be a fabulous fantasia of fairy tales.”
He looked into Harper’s sea-gray eyes, and shrugged awkwardly. “Why do you want to find the circus anyway?”
Harper held his gaze and gripped the rope of lavender silk. “I think Aurelia may be my mother.” She gulped. “And Hugo my father.”
To her surprise the Wild Conductor swept into a low, elegant bow and said, “In that case, I will help you in any way I can.” And for the first time, his voice was filled with promise.
Chapter Eleven
A SPLENDID CONCERT
The next week sped by in a rush of rehearsals and hand-stitched gowns. Great Aunt Sassy returned from Holland and worked late into the night creating a wonderful collection of costumes for the concert. Nate’s older brothers built a little stage beneath the canopy of storm blooms. And all the residents came together to help Harper put on a heart-stopping show.
When the day of the concert finally arrived, Harper felt as if an entire flock of butterflies was taking flight in her tummy. She peered at the Wild Conductor, who stood alone at the edge of the roof, his arms out wide as if he were conducting the sky. She stared at the makeshift orchestra pit, where the orchestra cats were curled, rows of tails and teeth, yellow eyes and moon-white claws, each clasping a miniature instrument. Siamese cats were on strings. Tabbies and tortoiseshell took percussion. Sleek black and bright-white cats were on woodwind. Speckled and spotted cats took brass. They were all wearing waterproof
bonnets that Sassy had stitched, which made Harper want to giggle.
Her eyes came to rest on Midnight. He flicked his ear and twanged his mandolin. Harper rose to her feet. It was time for the show to begin.
Harper took a breath and began to play. As the notes wove their way into the audience’s hearts, Midnight began following on the mandolin. Then Snowflake took up the viola. Katarina, the Lucas family’s cat, gave a shake of the samba cowbells, Memphis and Tallulah began squeaking on the bagpipes, and Ludo, Ferdie and Liesel’s cat, thwacked the bass drum with his tail. The Wild Conductor gave a swish of his baton and every cat joined in.
When the music was at a steady pace, Ferdie stepped into the spotlight, a serious boy with a serious scarf. He cleared his throat and read out his newest poem, “Fearsome Storm, We Are Not Afraid.” Then Madame Flora took to the stage to perform the dance of the dying swan, as Elsie Caraham played a soft, sad solo on an old viola.
Next, Nate moved into the spotlight, feeling the glow of its warmth on his face. He lit a sparkler and drew a circle of pale fire in the air. Everyone froze as Smoke emerged from the wings with Liesel clinging to her back. Nate gave a low, long whistle and Smoke dived through the ring of sparks, carrying the small girl with her.
Isabella burst onto the stage, spinning and flittering like a firefly, a crown of tiger lilies shimmering in her hair. Peter and Brigitte leaped to their feet and performed a fast German polka all around the rooftop. Great Aunt Sassy gathered an armful of Spanish fans and did the dance of ducks. A quiet man called Jack Willows, who was the caretaker of the Unforgotten Concert Hall, came forward with a beautiful, strange old harp, and surprised everyone by playing “The Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy.” As Harper watched him pluck the dusty strings, a sense of enchantment gripped her heart. Suddenly she believed that the concert really would work, that she really could summon the Circus of Dreams.
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