“Watch you perform? Certainly not here?” Dick said, looking around the vast grasslands.
Manny’s smile grew ever larger as more and more circus denizens began to fill the space behind him. “No.” He straightened, red tailcoat fluttering dramatically behind him.
Simon hadn’t noticed until now that the wires in which the trapeze was suspended had come from a rather large shaft sticking out the flank of the automaton. In fact, most of the steel and bronze comprising the animal vehicles were layered in segments, suggesting they opened or shifted in some way as to transform the creature.
“Our next show isn’t until Ebonguard, I’m afraid.”
“Ebonguard?” Miss Baxter was holding tightly onto her crook as Manny once again endeavored to reply.
“Freland’s capital, yes?” He quirked a brow. “It must be simply polluted with people! Filling the streets, fattening homes?”
When the young lady nodded, Manny shot forward, grasping Miss Baxter’s dainty wrist between one leather, be-gloved hand and his silver walking stick. For a moment, it had looked like he were going to speak, until something quite caught the young ringmaster’s tongue.
“You…” he looked to the side, his gaze inadvertently resting on Mr. Todd and Salvador, “you dear individuals wouldn’t happen to be heading there, would you?”
Simon looked from side to side, unsure of whether this odd looking gentleman was inquiring of him or the young lady.
“We are,” Miss Baxter said, causing the young man to turn back to regard her.
“How excellent,” he said quietly, looking from her neck to the tip of her head. He repeated the words a few more times before stepping away. “Then at the behest of my menagerie and I, please allow us to escort you. My elephants are safer than mounts, and happiest with full bellies.”
Simon chuckled tentatively.
Mr. Dashing removed his hat to scratch his head. “We thank you for your offer good sir, but have an agenda of our own.”
Manny regarded the man, blue eyes dancing. “Of course you do, Sir. But my elephants can ensure you meet that agenda post haste.” A few of the acrobats spinning along the flanks of the gigantic machines began tossing swords amongst each other. The blades shone like bolts of lightning.
“Seems an odd thing to offer a group of strangers on the road,” Simon finally blurted, stepping off old Salvador and adjusting his gray bowler. “You must have alternative reasons for such a charitable proposal.” Mr. Todd looked towards his companions, gauging them to be less than worried and more in awe of the circus performers slipping and sliding along the steam powered creatures. The skeletal carousel, the ringmaster’s smile as well as the girl on the trapeze however, were making Mr. Todd feel uneasy.
In turn, Manny sighed, placing a hand to his chest as though attempting to reach into it and grab his heart. “Alas, you are right.” He looked down. “My circus has been misplaced. Lost.”
Simon felt his nose wrinkle.
“I’ve quite lost my way I’m afraid. The plains are vast and the roads are often dense with overgrowth. My elephanti and my band of uniques haven’t been able to pinpoint the location of Ebonguard ever since we came over the Silk Sands in the south,” Manny continued.
“You came from the desert?” Fae asked, perplexed.
“Of course. My steam powered pachyderms hail from the Magical City of Corés in Arcadia.”
“Arcadia?”
Again, Manny smiled, watching as Fae and the others turned towards Mr. Darcy: their labelled scholar. The dragon in disguise frowned, adjusting the lapels on his jacket.
“Below the desert of the great Wyrm Drayce, there is a country called Arcadia. At least, in old history books that was the name of it. When the lands were separated, Freland lost contact due to the dragon law preventing humans from entering.”
That was a hundred years ago. Not even zeppelins or dirigibles could cross through the desert now, thanks to that old gloryhog. Drayce, as human’s called her, was a leathery old lizard with too much gold and too many years stuffed into her pea-brain mind. When she had settled in the desert and began demanding tribute, she had efficiently provoked young dragons everywhere to go into hiding. No one wanted any more powerful dragons getting too old and high-handed enough to start demanding tribute. Knights, dragon hunters, and all of a similar sort, were born out of that scaly old cow’s reluctance to get off her tail and earn her gold like a proper dragon. It made Jane Darcy absolutely furious to even think of her.
“Wait,” Fae interjected, looking to Darcy then back to Manny. “So ya crossed the Drayce desert? Ain’t that against the law or some such?”
Mr. Darcy nodded. Humans, as much of a pain as they were to young dragons, quite rightfully feared them. Drayce, as well as George to the west, both boasted protected territories under the government endorsed act labelled ‘Dragon Law’. George, who Mr. Darcy had met once before in his human form, inhabited an island to the far west and mostly kept to himself. He only ever attacked pirates or large sea vessels thoughtless enough to drift too close to his territory, and often spent most of his time wandering about the lives of human beings. It had been George in fact, who had encouraged Jane to seek out his own form and study literature, something Jane had to admit, that he greatly enjoyed.
“It is against the law for human’s to cross the desert in Freland,” Manny the Magnificent explained with a calm face, “but in Arcadia there is no such prohibition.”
“And you got across without a row with the dragon?” Fae continued, much more animated than the rest of the party.
Manny shrugged, nonchalant. “I guess my elephanti fooled her. When we’re tucked into their bellies, there isn’t a lot of creatures that seek to molest us.”
Jane looked up, surveying the machines with a careful eye. Drayce, as old as she was, may have lost her wits, but he was certain she’d recognize a living thing from one that was not. It was probably more the case that she didn’t care, had been sleeping and thought the man’s carnival of nobodies beneath her notice. It was that, or some sort of magic had been at work to conceal them.
Mr. Darcy couldn’t be certain of the circumstances, but he did feel intrigued. Not even a lot of young dragons had crossed the desert, preferring to give Drayce a wide berth, mostly out of respect, and he found that he wanted to know more about this lost world that could create mechanical beasts. On top of that, Jane was intrigued by the fact this man seemingly knew Drayce was female. Most humans, so taken with their patriarchal views, always assumed the majority of great wyrms were male.
Mr. Dashing, watching Jane as he floated amongst his thoughts, returned his hat to his head, biting his lip. “So free passage to Ebonguard on your,” he made a gesture with his hands, “elephant contraptions, in exchange for navigation to Ebonguard?”
Manny nodded with bright eyes. Dashing chewed on his cheeks, turning to regard his companions.
“Food as well?” Dick asked, turning back when Manny nodded.
The group gathered inwards, Fae and Jane Darcy obviously intrigued, evident by how wide their eyes were.
“Well, they seem nice enough,” Fae said.
“What?” Simon scowled. “They’re obviously vagabonds! Decorated scoundrels looking to rob us blind.”
Dashing laughed. “If they are they’ve barked up the wrong tree. How much gold do we have left to fund the expedition?”
Simon paused, his eyes flitting to Miss Baxter who also looked rightly concerned. His ledger was in his pack. All the numbers had been properly accounted for and documented so that he could return the receipt to Mr. Hershal upon his return to Darlington. At the launch of their journey, Simon Todd possessed ninety crowns. After paying for provisions, the inn at Piper’s Toss, horses and lamp oil, they had approximately ten crowns left. This was not an excessive amount of money, but Simon had gauged that with proper budgeting, and dietary restrictions, they would be able to make it to Ebonguard with the amount leftover.
This however, had left
the party grumpy, on more than one occasion, due to the meals provided. Everyone, save the polite and obviously forgiving Miss Baxter, and well-mannered Mr. Darcy, had complained for three days straight about the lack of meat in the stews. Why is there only beans Mr. Todd? Why does my bowl only have one cube of beef and hers two? It was all very tiring, to say the least, and certainly wouldn’t bode well for Simon’s argument of staying away from this obvious wacko’s menagerie.
“Why am I the only one with the foresight to bring gold?” he whispered, ducking behind his companions to hide his expression from the waiting ringmaster.
Mr. Dashing, quite irritatingly, clapped Mr. Todd on the shoulder, standing straight as he always did when trying to look self-assured. “My good man, this is why you were chosen to partake in our venture! Of course we haven’t any gold!” he said a bit more loudly than Simon thought appropriate. “It’s why we’re heading out on an adventure in the first place.” He leaned in to say the rest, smiling through hushed tones.
“You took me along as a sponsor? I thought I was an equerry!”
“You are!” Dashing continued confidently. “Especially now that we have mounts.”
“I suppose,” Miss Hershal said, rolling her eyes up pensively. “That you’re a bit of both. Though, it’s me Pops that’s funding the money.”
“So,” Miss Baxter piped in. “Simon is a subsidiary of the Hershal Bank who is benefactor to our journey east?”
“Exactly!” Dashing agreed.
“But without being told or informed of any of the details.” Simon was feeling quite cross.
In turn, Fae pat him on the back. “Ah, don’t worry mate! Me Dad won’t care so long as he gets it all back. And, it’s not like you’ve been lolligaggin’. We’ve stopped at every one of ‘is banks and businesses along the way.”
“I wouldn’t mind taking a look at the inside of those creatures,” Mr. Darcy piped in, pursing his lips thoughtfully.
“And I wouldn’t mind ‘avin’ some soup with more than three slabs of meat in it.”
Dashing nodded. “And if it’s money you’re worried about, this solves our problem! We’ll save more if we attend with the circus.”
Simon felt flabbergasted. “Doesn’t this all seem sort of strange to you? I don’t trust him, or his little sideshow.” Mr. Todd looked to Miss Baxter for confirmation. He was at least encouraged when she offered him an unsure nod.
Dick waved his hand. “Ah good friend, do not be offended, but you’ve lived your life surrounded by the plains. Anything outside Darlington would be alien to you.” He laughed. “I’ve crossed seas and swords, mountains and woodlands. A circus is nothing, especially with my experience as a gunman.” He tapped the pistols on his hip, giving a wink to the party as he turned to walk towards Manny and the steaming creatures behind him.
“You’ve a deal ol’ boy! Navigation for food and board.” Mr. Dashing was quite looking forward to the twist in their adventure, and to becoming acquainted with the leggy, dark-haired lady eyeing him from the trapeze.
Manny took Mr. Dashing’s hand, clasping the head of his cane in the other. “Excellent,” he said, turning in a flourish and snapping his fingers. The men and women on board, some humans, some goblins and some, curiously, centaurs, began filing back inside through the portholes and open crevices of the creature’s limbs and moving segments. Manny, moving towards the trapeze as it began to pull upward into the air, hopped back on from whence he came, the raven-haired, clown girl spinning from her seat to clasp the bar like a banner once again.
“You won’t regret us as companions, Sir!” he said as panels in the elephant’s belly opened, and a platform began to descend. “We’re nothing if not entertaining!”
“This is folly. We’re all going to end up on the other side of some strange phenomenon that’ll leave us penniless and without any of our original resources.”
Mr. Darcy regarded his hapless friend as the others watched the hissing pipes and churning pistons lower the platform enough for the horses and Salvador. “Don’t worry, Mr. Todd,” he said, feeling that the gentleman’s trepidation seemed quite reasonable considering the weakness of his species. “For what do we live, if not to make sport and laugh at our neighbors?”
Simon furrowed his brow. “What does that even mean?” he asked, watching Miss Baxter walk timidly towards the structure, crook in hand. Seemed she was the only other one with some sense.
“It means…” Darcy stopped, thinking. “That we should take time to laugh at those we deem laughable.”
“This whole scenario is laughable.” And foolish, he thought. “Dashing is laughable. A laughable blockhead.”
Jane put a hand around Simon’s shoulders. “Then if you’re right, we shall laugh at him.”
With my luck, he’ll fall off the side of the circus contraption drunk, and perish, becoming a ghost as well: haunting me for all eternity.
Simon grimaced. Jane Darcy laughed.
Chapter 12
How Tea Ya Like Your Girls, Mr. Todd?
Travelling within the large elephanti belonging to Manny’s circus was a bit of an odd phenomenon. The largest of the three automatons was in fact where the ringmaster and the majority of the circus denizens claimed quarters. The other two housed the bulk of their storage rooms, animals, including now their two horses and Salvador, a complexity of chambers, and circus instruments belonging to the carnival acts itself. Mr. Darcy had been fascinated to learn that the majority of the steam powered pachyderms were made to unfold when the circus was activated, and that a large section of the Circus of Exhaling Elephani was made up from the structures they left behind upon completion of the transformation.
“So all the panels we can see on the outside are due to the fact that the machines unfold, creating the circus itself,” Jane explained to a less than exuberant Mr. Todd.
Simon, meanwhile, had been living in a box of paranoia. The various individuals residing in Manny’s menagerie seemed like they were all cut from the same cloth of manic depression. Whimsical at times, melodramatic the next, they may have all been very interesting in small doses, but to Mr. Todd, who very much liked his organization and propriety packaged neatly together, the mood of the people was mindboggling.
Dick didn’t seem to mind at all. In fact, Simon had seen Mr. Dashing on more than one occasion talking to the young clown girl they had met at the start of their alliance. Cherie Rose, a petite lady with an admittedly alluring accent, wove her words together when she spoke to him.
“Mister Dashing! You are not proper in the way you say the things you do! My ringmaster would be most displeased to take notice of the words you utter into my ear at night.” Then she’d giggle. From her private room next to the sleeping quarters most of them slept in, Simon would hear her laugh for an hour or two before insisting Dashing leave.
“I bet if you asked her, she’d let you join in.” Simon had been lying in his bed. His jacket was thrown over the railing behind him and hung down like a curtain on the side. The resting quarters was little more than a large shuffle of iron beds all stacked up on one another, leaving little room for much else other than resting. Regardless, he often found himself here a few hours before bedtime, brooding or counting the knots in the wood on the wall next to him.
“What?” he said, looking towards Cleo. The older lady tossed her hair, smiling at him with blue powder above her eyes. Her stall, or sleeping quarters, was a nook off the main bunker, slightly larger with enough room for her to stand or sleep. Currently she was nestled down on the feathered mattress, long legs tucked beneath her chestnut brown torso.
Simon couldn’t remember ever seeing a centaur before. He thought her quite captivating when he had first learned her name and often stared at her out of the corner of his eye when she wasn’t looking. As he regarded her even now, he was overcome with a strange sensation of awe. Her brown coat, black tail and alabaster skin, although past its prime, were all intriguingly exotic, and so, despite her allegations of his l
ack of decency, Simon felt eager to speak with her.
“Join in,” Cleo repeated, engaged in a bit of needlework. Though she was old, she was certainly handsome. She reminded Simon of a nobleman’s mother. Though her disposition was sweet and rather matronly, she had an air of elegance surrounding her.
“Certainly not!” Mr. Todd cried, sitting up from his position on the bed. “Mr. Dashing may be a deviant, but I am certainly not among his kind!”
Cleo watched him through thick eyelashes, smiling until dimples appeared on each cheek. “Well you ought not to eavesdrop then. No use putting a spring in your pocket if you don’t mean to give it a bounce.”
Simon gave her an odd look, one that made the older woman laugh out load.
“I didn’t realize you were so bashful dear!” she said. “Maybe you have another young lady on your mind?”
Simon sat up on the bed completely, throwing his legs over the side. He was wearing a collared shirt, unbuttoned at the neck with black suspenders overtop. Some days it got so hot inside their walking steam factory he wanted nothing more than to undress himself entirely. This was one of those days, as evidenced by the wet stains on his back and beneath his arms.
“I…” the sweet face of Miss Baxter shot to the front of his brain like gun thunder. She, as well as him, had been dubious about coming with Manny’s carnival, having had a sixth sense telling her that something was quite amiss. Simon had admired her instinct and appreciated the support she had for his caution, though she was reluctant to frighten the others with merely groundless intuition.
The Curious Case of Simon Todd Page 13