by Ben Galley
Yara ordered them to fan out and prepare for the evening. Such few words for a mammoth task, as Merion soon found out. Cirque Kadabra had only pitched and performed once since he and the others had joined them. He had largely kept out of the way before, but now he was put through his paces.
Nelle had him mucking out the cages. Devan had him rolling heavy stone balls back and forth. Big Jud needed some help with his stage. Cabele wanted bunting passed up to her as she capered and catapulted herself between poles and wires. Kasfel needed more paints for her face. Rahan and Hashna stole him away to help with the erecting of the big tent. Jackabo had him dousing rag-wrapped sticks in kerosene. And so it went.
After three long hours, he was sweating so much he looked as though he had snuck a quick dip in the river. That did not sound like a terrible idea at that point: he was sweaty, he was dusty, there were blisters on his hands, and a lump growing on his forehead from where a heavy tent spike had caught him. All in all, he was exhausted. But he had loved every minute of it.
It was hard labour, but it was exciting labour. He knew now how the bones of circus came alive, and had fallen deeper into its family because of it. There had been jokes and natter throughout the work. Merion had even ignored Itch Magrey’s jibes about being as skinny and pale as a ghost when he had taken his shirt off. Only Merion’s arms had yet tasted the sun, not the rest of him. And skinny was true. The summer sun and the walking had whittled him down to something wiry. He could no longer find a single inch to pinch of the pampered puppy fat that Harker Sheer had gifted him. Merion found himself sneaking looks in a trough of water and flexing to see the shallow lines in his chest and arms.
When Merion finally stole a moment with his aunt, leaning against a brightly painted barrel with a cup of cold river water, he found himself gazing around in wonder. Yara had pulled out all the stops.
‘Clever, ain’t it?’ Lilain remarked, following her nephew’s eyes as they hopped between the eye-burningly colourful stalls. ‘How it all opens and unfolds and springs up into this.’
The smell of fresh paint was an odd complement to the smell of the town, the river, and the blooming prairie. Down in the valley, shrubs sprouted white and yellow flowers.
‘Very,’ Merion replied. ‘It’s almost like a magic trick in itself.’
‘I suppose it helps to have a team of rushers about the place, hmm? Devan’s been rushing all day, helpin’ out with the heavy lifting. I wonder how long it would have taken to get the big tent up without him.’
Merion stretched an aching shoulder. ‘Not as long as it took to roll his stones to his wagon,’ he mumbled. ‘And he’ll be rushing all night too,’ he added. ‘That’s some stamina.’
‘That’s practice for you, Nephew. Who knows, you could be up to that level in time. He ain’t a leech like you,’ his aunt said. She had been very complimentary today, he thought. Perhaps she was trying to make up for her quick exit the night before.
‘And soon, I hope.’ He took another sip of his water. ‘So what’s next, do you imagine?’
‘Darned if I know, Nephew. Seems to me like we’re all done here,’ Lilain replied. But that was not quite right. Shan and Sheen Dolmer appeared from behind a wagon, each carting a big wooden box. Lilain stood up when she saw Sheen, and he smiled wide as they approached.
‘Afternoon,’ he greeted them. Merion nodded, watching his aunt carefully.
‘Sheen,’ she replied. ‘Shan.’
‘Lilain,’ the two siblings chorused.
‘What have you got there?’ Merion asked.
Sheen jiggled his box and glass rattled. ‘Shades for tonight. Have a lot of red to give out. Going to be a big show.’
‘And I have posters and leaflets,’ Shan added, shaking her box to the sound of thudding paper. ‘Got to go post them around town. Merion, will you join me? I could use the help.’
‘As could I,’ Sheen cut in. ‘Lilain?’
Lilain looked at Merion, who had folded his arms and was waiting for her answer. She worked her mouth. ‘Well,’ she replied. ‘How about we handle the literature, and you two see to the blood. I’m sure you’ll be needed more than me, Shan.’
Shan shrugged, smiled, and handed the box over to Lilain, who promptly placed it on the barrel. Sheen looked a little deflated, but he smiled and nodded anyway, before departing with his sister.
‘Somebody has fallen from favour,’ Merion whispered as Lilain watched them go.
‘Oh, shush, Merion,’ she chided him gently, not really meaning it. ‘I feel guilty enough as it is.’
‘About Lurker?’
‘Yes, about Lurker. We’ll talk about it later if we must. Now, where’s that faerie of yours? I know how he likes to creep about. Maybe he wants to see Daeven Port before the sun goes down?’
Merion knew she was using the faerie as a buffer, the sneaky woman. He pointed down the path to their tent. ‘I’m sure he would,’ Merion winked, much to Lilain’s annoyance, and walked off. His aunt stayed by the barrel, tapping her foot and rifling through the posters.
‘Rhin,’ he hissed, stepping into the tent.
‘Here,’ replied a voice. A face and a body soon followed it. Rhin was standing on the desk, armour scattered around him, halfway through trying on a bright red tunic. A myriad of other garments lay around his feet, discarded and rumpled.
‘I didn’t know you were dressing to impress,’ Merion sniggered.
‘Enough of that, you snide harpag,’ Rhin scowled. ‘I have to be in character. The kids won’t be expecting a faerie in armour now, will they?’
Merion’s smile refused to die. There was something particularly hilarious about the hardened, battle-scarred faerie trying on costumes for his debut show. ‘If only Lurker could see you now. I think he might have a fit.’
Rhin dragged his sword out of its scabbard and waggled it in Merion’s direction. ‘I’ll cut something precious off you in a minute.’
Merion held up his hands. When he had finished chuckling, he pointed a thumb to the tent-flap. ‘Skimpy tunics aside, we’re headed into the town to put up circus posters. Want to come?’ he asked.
Rhin looked down at the ring of shiny and colourful fabric he had arranged around himself. He sighed. ‘Yes I do,’ answered the faerie, reaching for his armour.
*
Daeven Port was lined with trees. Merion noticed that first. Whomever ran the town clearly had an affinity for them. Merion was not going to lie: it was a welcome change from the wide dusty roads of the desert towns. Scrawny green trees sat in stone rings every ten yards or so, brushing the stores and saloons with their leaves. The buildings were taller here, still boxlike and flat-faced, but far more ambitious in height. Merion looked up at their huge, lofty signs as they walked deeper into the town.
‘Mr Hammage’s Tools & Wares’
‘The Lucky Buffalo – Saloon & Lounge’
‘Missop’s General Store’
‘Barber Bosum’s Shaves & Assorted Surgeries’
‘Jumping Jane’s Dollhouse – Ladies for All’
And the list went on.
Engines thrummed overhead as a fat airship, laden with cargo, manoeuvred towards the docking tower. Merion gazed up at its steel ribs and throbbing propellers. Six of them there were, three on each side, lined up along the sleek, silver cabin hanging from the envelope’s bulbous belly.
The road led them a winding path into the centre of Daeven Port, where the railroad station was located, thick with busy crowds. A market had been set up nearby, and the trading showed no signs of slowing, even though the sun would be sinking in an hour or two. Merion watched the people milling about. He heard a dozen different languages in less than half that time spent weaving through the crowds. He saw clothes from all sorts of countries, skin of all variety of shades. The port seemed to have drawn the world into itself.
‘So do we just put these posters up, anywhere we like?’ he asked.
‘No,’ Lilain replied. ‘Got to ask permission first, otherwi
se we might ruffle some feathers before the show has even started. Yara wouldn’t be too pleased.’
‘I imagine not,’ Merion agreed.
‘Now we’ve got the lay of the town, I say we hit the saloons, the postal office, barbers, and trees where there are houses. Alright?’
‘Don’t forget the railroad station,’ hissed Rhin from the satchel hung over Merion’s shoulder.
Merion butted in. ‘Or the port.’
‘Right,’ Lilain pinched the bridge of her nose between finger and thumb. ‘So we’ll just do the whole town. Don’t wander off.’
‘I guess so,’ Merion replied. He looked south before they began to retrace their steps. It seemed that Cirque Kadabra was already in full swing. Merion could just about hear the bells, the clattering tunes, and the whistling above the roar of the town. The music worked like a spell, drawing ears, eyes and, of course, feet.
Here and there in the town, a few lanterns and candles had already been lit. Daeven Port was beginning to sparkle. But it held no candle to the incandescence of Cirque Kadabra. Just a few hundred yards from the fringes of the town, the circus glowed like a jewel-studded crown that had been set on fire. The coloured lanterns were out in force. Bright flames burnt in sconces set on poles. Every now and again a burst of flame would soar into the sky, or a flash of light would pop, leaving spots behind the eyes.
Merion found he was itching to get back. Strangely enough, he could not wait to see the grins and amazed faces of the townspeople. He felt a pride coursing through him, mingled with a little smugness. He could see the strings on the puppets, knew which hat held the rabbit, so to speak. He felt as though he had been let in on a great secret, and felt oddly privileged for it.
‘Merion!’ Lilain hollered at him, and he shook himself out of his daydream.
‘I said don’t wander off,’ his aunt said once he had caught up.
‘Technically, you did the wandering,’ Rhin piped up.
‘You, Mr Fae, can pipe down,’ Lilain scolded him.
‘Yes, Ma’am,’ Rhin replied, in his best Lurker impression.
Lilain scowled. ‘What’s gotten in to you today?’
‘It’s his big debut tonight, Aunt Lilain,’ Merion answered, before the faerie could open his mouth. The boy leant a little closer to Lilain and put a hand over his mouth. ‘I found him trying on costumes earlier, up on the desk. I think he’s rather excited.’
‘I can hear you, you know. I’m a faerie. I have far better hearing than you two clodhoppers.’
‘Our utmost apologies, Sir,’ replied Lilain, accentuating the Empire in her accent. Merion snorted loudly. Sarcasm seemed to run in the family.
After an hour of thumbing tacks into walls and bothering store owners and officials, all that lay between them and the circus was a short distance of grass and shrub. The box dangled at Merion’s side, empty. The town had been accordingly littered as Yara had instructed. Merion felt the tiredness creeping in again, turning his legs to lead and his eyelids to stone. Rhin did not help. He was surprisingly dense for his size, not to mention his armour. Heavy beast, Merion inwardly groaned.
The circus finally greeted them with its huge banner, spread between two huge poles. Beneath it, several booths had been knocked together with spare wood and a few nails. Each had a window, and two were already filled with two older girls Merion had not yet met. He smiled at them sheepishly.
Yara swept up to them, her green dress flowing around her like water. ‘Ah, there you are, Master Harlequin. We have been looking for you!’ she announced.
‘We’ve been putting up posters.’ Merion was eager to show he was helping.
Yara just nodded. ‘We need another body to man the last booth,’ she explained. ‘I thought you might be the best person for the job.’
Merion looked back at the empty booth. It was not exactly the most glamorous of positions. He had envisaged himself backstage, helping Devan or Jud with their act, or perhaps even onstage, if he was needed. Not in a booth. He fought back a yawn as he replied. ‘Whatever you need,’ he said quietly.
‘Good,’ Yara said, beaming. Her quick emerald eyes roved over him. ‘And where is your small friend?’
‘In here,’ said the satchel.
Yara bent down and leant close. ‘Mr Neams needs you in your cage, before our guests start to arrive.’
Rhin bounded out of his hiding place and threw her a rough salute. ‘Right you are.’
Yara clasped Lilain and Merion’s hands tightly. ‘I must say it is a pleasure to have you with us,’ she said, her voice dropping low and serious. ‘You have been a great help.’
‘Well, it’s a pleasure being here,’ Lilain replied, before making her excuses and heading back to the tent. ‘Stay out of trouble, Nephew,’ she called to him over her shoulder.
Merion rolled his eyes. How much trouble could he get into stuck in a booth?
Yara ruffled his hair, a habit she had stolen from his aunt. Merion still did not much like it. ‘I shall have some food brought for you. Now remember, it’s a copper dime for the children, three for the adults, and a sil’erbit for a whole family of four or five. Everybody gets a ticket.’
Merion nodded. ‘Got it.’
Yara went on. ‘No drunkards, no whores. I will not have any soliciting in my circus. We are the only ones going to be making coin here tonight. Understood? There will be a couple of strong brothers standing by the entrance, if you need help. They have seen the bad and the worse, so fear not.’
‘Crystal clear, Ms Mizar.’
Once again, the ruffling of hair. ‘And above all, Master Harlequin. Have fun. It is a circus, after all.’ And with that, she floated away, skirts waving, off to see to something else.
Merion put his box by the door of the booth and sat on the stool inside. He looked around at the small shed-like affair. He had two lanterns for company, a huge barrel of tickets, and a small bucket full of spare coins. He stared out of his window at the sparkling town, bathed in the last rays of the day. It was dark in the valley now that the sun had dropped below the ridge. He watched how the mirrored gaslights of the airship tower bathed its floating, droning guests in pale yellow light. Columns of steam still arose from the port and the railroad station.
Almost half an hour passed before the first shadow slipped from the town. In the glow of the circus, Merion could see the figure striding across the grass towards the booths. A man in his late forties. He tipped his hat at one of the girls and bought his ticket from her instead. It was not long before the next shadow came walking out. Then another, and another. They still went to the girls.
Merion wondered if he had something on his face. Or whether his tired, bored expression was scaring them off. He sighed and rested an elbow on the desk. He propped his head up and stared up at the airships.
‘Merion!’
The boy jumped as a familiar face popped into his window. He almost fell off of his stool.
Shan pulled a guilty face. ‘I didn’t mean to scare you.’
Merion had regained his balance. He let his heart calm down for a moment before telling her it was fine. ‘Do you need help with something?’ he asked, hopeful.
‘No,’ Shan replied, dousing his optimism. ‘I thought you might like to put a little red in your belly, while you work,’ she said, holding up a slender vial and shaking it back and forth.
‘While I’m here?’ Merion asked, face scrunched up in doubt. ‘What is it?’
‘Ox. I had some left over.’
‘Never tried that shade.’
‘It works the same as mule, or Bison,’ she elaborated.
‘Now mule I have tried.’
‘So that’s a yes?’
Merion smiled and stuck out a hand. He could have fallen asleep right there and then. He knocked the vial back in one gulp. He winced at the taste of the blood as it flowed down his throat. It was quite warm, something he did not savour.
‘That should keep you going for a few hours,’ she said, leaving him to
it.
Merion clasped his hands and squeezed them between his knees as the magick unfurled. It always hit him harder when he was hungry or tired. Merion tensed as it flowed up his chest and neck, and into his skull where it pulsated. He let it dribble down, bit by bit, into his tired muscles and aching joints. The blood felt hot, and strangely soothing. Merion’s eyelids lifted. He even sat a little straighter. He let out a big sigh as he felt the tiredness lift from his bones. Not the boredom, however. That staunchly remained.
Face by face, the crowds began to grow. Merion got a trickle, whereas the girls got a steady stream. It was only when he decided to paste a smile onto his face, rather than a bored frown, that a queue began to form at his booth. Merion soon had his hands full with tickets and coins, juggling both between the barrel and the bucket. They chattered excitedly as they stood at his window: men, women, boys, girls, the old and the young. Cirque Kadabra summoned them all. The questions came like rubble in a landslide as the queue sidled past his window.
‘What’s the best show?’
‘Are there any tigers?’
‘Elephants?’
‘Do you have acrobats?’
‘Strong men?’
Merion rattled off the answers, watching the grins grow and the children jump higher the closer they got to the entrance. He felt that strange pride blossoming again. He was part of their anticipation, a guardian of the gates, behind which fantastic things stood. With every passing patron his smile stretched a little wider.
The first hour passed like lightning. The second flew past. By the third, Merion was starting to flag once more. The queues had now died away and the circus was full to bursting. Now came the latecomers and the begrudgingly curious, the drunkards and the wanderers, the ejected and the demanding.
There seemed to be a scuffle going on at one of the other booths. Merion watched on, his elbows on the desk once again and his chin firmly affixed to his palms. There was garbled shouting, and he saw a portly, vomit-decorated man being dragged bodily from the circus and thrown into a scrubby bush. He lay there, defeated and too drunk to care. A few minutes passed, and Merion could have sworn he heard snoring. Had he company, he would have placed a bet on whether the man would still be there by sunrise.