The Circus Infinitus - The Spindle Cat

by Colin Forest

  “Stop him!” Arcanus shouted. “Don’t let him reach the giant!”

  Oswald became dimly aware of a buzz of activity. Someone shouted in the background and he thought he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. But Fanfer was so close that he gave it no mind. With the fading light of dusk, he thought that it could be his imagination playing tricks on his eyes.

  “Oh no, you don’t,” a voice called out, and suddenly he felt a strong tug pulling him back. “You don’t get to scurry out of here like a rat. There are questions that need answering.”

  He whirled about in panic. There was nothing to see, but the pull was real. He fell to his hands and knees. The golden light continued to spread around Fanfer and the cat. In the brilliance, he noticed a flesh-coloured tendril hooked to his rucksack. It snaked from the ground not too far away, out of a pile which looked like clothing. He tried to prise it with his hands, and when it would not detach, he bit it. The taste of dirt and grass filled his mouth. There was a scream of pain in the distance and the tentacle released its grip. As soon as it did that however, others shot out of the grass to attach themselves to his rucksack.

  Panic rose in him for soon, Fanfer and the cat would be gone. He grabbed at clumps of grass, and he pulled. The broken blades of grass stained his hands green and the smell assaulted his nostrils. It nauseated him. The tendrils kept their hold on the rucksack, trying desperately to find purchase, however precarious that may be. Tears rolled down his cheeks when he felt the straps of the rucksack slipping down his shoulders.

  “What!? No!” he cried, clasping his hands together to stop the straps from going past his elbows. Without being able to claw his way forward, the tendrils pulled him back. Looking up, he saw an enormous hand reach out for him. It got hold of him and pinned him to the ground. Pain shot through his elbows where the straps bit into his flesh. With all his might, Oswald fought to keep his hands locked together, but the pain overwhelmed him. His fingers parted. The exertion made by the tendrils on the rucksack pulled his arms back, and he felt the rucksack slide past his hands. He made a final attempt at grasping the strap as it slid past but his hand closed in on emptiness. Turning his head back, he saw the rucksack recede into the darkness as he, Fanfer and the Spindle Cat disappeared in a field of golden light.

  Felina sat tearfully next to Suresh. She heard someone calling for Tumblety, and he appeared minutes later.

  “Will he be all right?” she asked.

  “I can’t say until I’ve made a more thorough examination. I have something with me … but it’s meant for humans. I don’t know if the dosage is enough for Suresh. We can’t move him in this condition, but I’m certain, Felina, that you will stay by his side.”

  She nodded. Tumblety removed a small vial from his bag and upended the contents into Suresh’s mouth. She then took up position next to Suresh’s head and sang a soft melody to him.

  Somewhere on the grass, a mass of tendrils slithered back to the pile of clothing which lay on the ground, dragging the rucksack with them. They coalesced into the form of the Elephant Man. He stood up, naked, looking quizzically at the rucksack in his hands.

  “We do seem to attract these types of people, don’t we?” asked Merrick. “Now let’s see what we have here,” he said, shaking the rucksack. The box inside swung to and fro, and a soft rattling sound could be heard. He undid the flap and took out the box. The sound of the clasp clicking as it was unfastened, though soft, could be heard audibly in the still air. The circus compound was completely devoid of patrons now.

  “It’s a book,” said Merrick when he looked inside the box. He took it out and browsed the pages. “Here, Ringmaster. This might make more sense to you.”

  “Let me have a look,” said Christophe, who had come to join them.

  “Thank you for your help, Arcanus,” said the Ringmaster. “It was very timely. By the way, I am Adam.”

  Christophe met the Ringmaster’s eyes, and saw the same inscrutable look.

  “If eyes are portals to the soul, then I can see nothing of yours, Adam. I’ve looked into them many times today, and still I can’t fathom their depths. You are a man of many secrets.”

  “We are defined by how others see us. And secrets play a large part in that. Don’t you agree, Arcanus?” he asked.

  “We all have our masks.” He held out his hand and asked, “Please, may I have a look at the book?”

  The Ringmaster nodded slightly when he noticed the uncertainty on Merrick’s face. Merrick handed over the book and got dressed. Christophe thumbed through the pages in silence.

  “Is there anything in there that we ought to know?” asked the Ringmaster on seeing how absorbed Christophe was.

  “This is a grimoire,” said Christophe, “a book on magical knowledge. May I have some time to read it?” he asked.

  “Of course. That’s the least we can do after the help you gave us. I’ll have someone show you a room. Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are some matters I have to attend to.”

  The Ringmaster pulled Icarus to one side and whispered, “How soon can we leave?”

  “I’ll start making preparations.”

  “Good.”

  “Del, do you think we can trust him? It seems convenient that he should be here when this happened. And you heard what the giant said: he wears a glamour. Why does he need to be in disguise?”

  “He has his secrets, but I don’t think he’s with them. You can keep an eye on him if you like.”

  Icarus disappeared into the cover of the big tent. The Ringmaster went to where Suresh lay and placed a hand on Felina’s shoulder.

  “I’m sorry, Felina. I know you must be angry with me, but I could not risk having you hurt by the giant.”

  Felina ignored him and continued with her singing.

  Oswald was inconsolable at the loss of the book.

  “I must get it back. I must. You must take me back there.”

  “That would not be wise. There will be other times when we can retrieve the book,” said Fanfer.

  Oswald, Fanfer and the Spindle Cat had returned to Alfred’s cottage, and Fanfer had lit a fire for Oswald to bring to the fireplace inside. The flames from the bonfire cast a golden light over them; it was unlike the light from the cat’s third eye for it lacked its incandescence. Fanfer sat cross-legged on the ground, being unable to enter the cottage. His skin, itself of a golden hue, shone brilliantly. The nicks, cuts and scratches he suffered at the circus were totally gone. Oswald sat shivering in the cold. Although he had on thick coats he found in the cottage, he still felt the cold seeping past his skin into his very bones. He looked enviously at Fanfer, who seemed not to feel the cold at all.

  “It has been a long day for you, Oswald. Perhaps you would like to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we will continue finding the other disciples. And perhaps, we can think up a plan to get your book back.”

  “No. Let’s get the book first. I can’t bear to be apart from it. We can go for the others after we have it.”

  Fanfer regarded Oswald for a long time. Oswald looked pitiable, his shrunken frame smothered in the thick coats. The tears from his distress drew two clear streaks down his cheeks.

  “Very well,” said Fanfer. “We will go for the book first.”

  Upon hearing that, Oswald brightened considerably. He wished Fanfer goodnight and asked whether Fanfer would like the cat to spend the night indoors, away from the cold.

  “That would not be necessary. We are both quite impervious to the cold,” said Fanfer. “Good night, Oswald.”

  Far to the south, where the circus stood, only two stayed awake while everybody slept: in an empty room, Christophe sat at a desk poring over the contents of the book by lamplight; and in the Omniportallis chamber, Icarus worked on the settings of the machine, readying it for the next move. Although the hour was late, Christophe did not feel tired. All thoughts he had about his task were chased from his mind as he read on. It was many more hours before he succumbed to sleep. When he woke up, the su
n was already high in the sky. After he had refreshed himself, he emerged from his room with the box containing the book.

  “Good morning,” he wished the Ringmaster and Icarus.

  They were near the main stage in the big tent, and the place was alive with activity.

  “Good morning, Arcanus,” the Ringmaster replied. “Did you have a good night’s rest?”

  “Yes, I slept very well. Thank you. I have to admit that I retired very late last night … or very early this morning, depending on your point of view. The book was completely engrossing.”

  “And what secrets did it give up?”

  “This is a copy of the Noble Grimoire.”

  “Is that significant?”

  Icarus, who had been in a conversation with the Ringmaster before, listened in.

  “Very. This is an extremely rare book. Marcus Noble lived about two hundred years ago. He was a student of the magical arts – very bright though he wasn’t gifted. In fact, his skills were abysmal. He had trouble mastering the most rudimentary spell.” Christophe saw the attention given him by the Ringmaster and Icarus, and he felt a chill of relish. “But that was not where his talent lay. He had the Sight. He could see past this world into the next. We don’t know much about his life and his achievements. The little bit we know is based more on legend than on any historical evidence. But, the legend goes that one day, while he used the Sight, he cast his eyes on a being which could perceive him. The being came looking for him and found him. It was then that Noble went missing for several years. When he re-appeared, he brought stories of the inhabitants of the other worlds – stories which he wrote down in his grimoire.”

  “And is there any truth to the legend?” asked Icarus.

  “There was no way to prove where he went. All we had were his words, and it was generally believed that he was mad.”

  “Then why is this book so important?” asked Icarus.

  “Because the knowledge within has proved accurate so far. That’s where Noble’s intellect served him. The book shows, among other things, how to summon these beings. There are some who have dealt with one or two of the beings described here, and they have confirmed the veracity of the information. And after the events of yesterday, I think we can say that he did indeed travel to the other worlds.

  “Oh?” the Ringmaster and Icarus asked simultaneously.

  “Noble described the being which found him. It was the Spindle Cat. Here, have a look,” said Christophe, opening the book to the page describing the Spindle Cat and showing it to the Ringmaster and Icarus.

  “That’s the cat from last night?” asked Icarus.

  “Yes, a remarkable creature. In all the places that Noble went to and among all the beings he met, they all knew about the cat. Even among the more powerful ones, the cat has a place of respect. And of course, being the student he was, Noble asked why. They all said the same thing: the cat had in the past been in the company of great beings – demigods, if not gods themselves. Not one of them knew the origins of the cat or where it came from, but it moves between worlds at will. Some have accepted the cat’s intrusions into their territory but others, such as the god Necronis, view the cat as an enemy.”

  “Does that mean the giant’s a divine being, and the cat’s its familiar?” asked the Ringmaster.

  Christophe shrugged.

  “And how do you know so much about Noble and his grimoire?” asked Icarus, to which Christophe gave a coy smile.

  “Ah, I see you’re being evasive,” said Icarus.

  “Icarus!” barked the Ringmaster. He looked apologetically at Christophe and said, “You’ll have to excuse Icarus, Arcanus. He speaks his mind.”

  “That’s all right, Adam. I appreciate someone who is direct. Icarus, I know my sudden appearance in your midst might be alarming, but I hope that I haven’t given you any cause to be suspicious of me.”

  “Not at all, Arcanus,” said Icarus, expelling a puff of smoke from his chimney.

  “That’s good to hear. Now, I hope that you don’t think it rude of me if I excuse myself. I have to see to it that my horse is comfortable. The poor thing has a nervous disposition.” With that, Christophe took his leave of them.

  “Oh, Arcanus,” said Icarus, “just how long do you intend to keep hold of the book?”

  Christophe smiled stiffly at the question, and replied, “Ah. Here. I suppose this should be in your keeping. After all, one of your people did retrieve it.” He then handed the box over to the Ringmaster and left for the stables.

  The Ringmaster glared at Icarus who said off-handedly, “Well, someone has to look after these things.”

  Outside, Suresh was still asleep with Felina sitting close by. The look of worry on her face was still evident, and by the way she slouched, she looked like she had not had much rest.

  Poor girl. I know how you feel. I’d be sick with worry too if anything were to happen to Octavius, he thought. Now, where can I get some meat?

  Chapter 5: Departure

  Octavius stared at the carnivorous horse in the next pen eating its meal. It wrapped its tendrils around a large piece of meat and pushed it into its maw. Octavius’s own bucket, filled with apples was left untouched.

  He made a loud hissing sound at Christophe as he entered the stables.

  “Yer ‘orse ‘as been whinnyin’ all mornin’. Wouldn’t touch ‘is food, that one,” commented Busboy as Christophe passed him.

  “I’ll take care of him. Thank you,” said Christophe. He stood before the carnivorous horse and said, “I’ve never seen such a horse before,” though his eyes were on its feeding bucket.

  “Yeh. They’re special ‘orses. The Ringmaster’ll tell ya where ‘e got ‘em. Ask ‘im when yer wiv ‘im next.”

  When Busboy was gone, Christophe took the bucket containing the bloody fluids and held it before Octavius. Octavius dipped his head into the bucket eagerly and lapped up the blood.

  “You must be so hungry. Let’s get you something to eat.”

  Octavius slobbered as he went. He ran a bit too quickly, and flecks of spittle flew from his lips onto Christophe’s face. The road from the circus was empty. Christophe expected that at the very least, there would one person on the road. But after what had happened the night before, he surmised that everyone was keeping clear of the area.

  “Slow down, boy. I know you’re hungry. Don’t worry, we’ll find something,” said Christophe, patting Octavius’s neck and then wiping his own face. Thoughts regarding his task came back to him. He felt at wit’s end to come up with a plan to find the elusive Mr. Monckton.

  I didn’t see him at all. Maybe he’s not there. Maybe they just let him go. Still …, his thoughts trailed, the Noble Grimoire. What a find.

  In town at the butcher’s, Christophe paid for a choice cut of beef. When he came out of the shop, Octavius’s nostrils flared at the smell of the meat. He grunted and pawed the ground impatiently, startling a little girl who happened to be nearby.

  “Don’t be afraid,” said Christophe to the girl. “He’s actually quite gentle.”

  She looked dubiously at Christophe, and ran off. Christophe mounted quickly and rode away, and in a secluded corner, he relayed the meat to Octavius’s eager mouth. With his hunger sated, Octavius ceased his grunting and pawing, which allowed Christophe to concentrate on looking for his own food. At a little corner shop, he bought bread and cheese, which he ate at his leisure. In between bites, he mulled over his next move.

  Perhaps I should just ask them directly. But what if he’s there, in hiding. That would raise questions. No. Better not. Still, if he’s there, I should’ve seen him by now, especially after my help last night.

  When Christophe returned to the road, he was no closer to making his decision. He headed back to the circus on the road that was still as unoccupied then as it was earlier that morning. Something felt out of place when he approached the entrance to the circus. Where he would expect there to be some sort of activity on the grounds, there was only stil
lness. Even Felina and Suresh were gone.

  Arcanus, the Ringmaster called out to his mind.

  What is it, Adam?

  Come to the big tent. We need your help.

  Christophe entered the big tent, where all the circus folk were gathered on the main stage around the Ringmaster. The air was slightly opaque due to a thin layer of smoke which settled like a net over everyone, especially around Icarus. There were a few new faces there, one of whom was a woman dressed in rags who had pallid skin. She nodded at him as though she knew him, but he was certain they had not met.

  “Arcanus, something happened while you were away,” said the Ringmaster without any ceremony. “The giant and his companions came back. We hadn’t expected them to show their faces again, at least not this soon. They’ve taken Felina and Suresh, and they have the book.”

  “What? How did this happen?”

  “They appeared outside out of the blue. I’m sure you can imagine how Felina must have felt.”

  “Yes. Did she … turn on them?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. It was all quite futile on her part.”

  “I see. But how did they get the book?” asked Christophe.

  “The giant subdued Felina easily, and had her and Suresh as hostages. He demanded the book,” said the Ringmaster. After a short pause, he continued, “And he wanted ME to hand it over.”

  “Thought they’d kill two birds with one stone, you see” interjected Icarus. “Get the book and get rid of the disciple. But we wouldn’t stand for that. When that man – you know, the scrawny, sick-looking one – got hold of the book, the giant went for Adam. We gave it our all. Adam got away, but so did they – with Felina and Suresh.”

  “But how can I help?” asked Christophe.

  “You’re the only one who’s read the book,” said the Ringmaster. “We need to know what’s in it, especially regarding Necronis. The giant said that I’m marked. Presumably, that’s how they could find me. We need to know if there’s a way to remove that mark. If there isn’t a way, then we need to find a way to get around it.”