The Circus Infinitus - The Spindle Cat

by Colin Forest

  “Yes, say for example if we put a glamour on Adam, and even if the giant could see that there’s a glamour, will it cover Necronis’s mark?”

  “Unless I’m mistaken, no one here has that skill.”

  “No, but you do. You’re still wearing your glamour.”

  “Icarus!” snapped the Ringmaster. “Now isn’t the time!”

  Christophe was quiet for a long while. Finally, he said, “There’s nothing in the book on the mark.” There was an audible sigh of disappointment. “It tells of Necronis himself, of how to summon him, or rather his essence, and some of the places where he has been known to make his presence felt.”

  “That’s a start,” said the Ringmaster.

  “Perhaps you don’t need to hide the mark. We know the giant is hunting down the disciples of Necronis. If you go to them, then you are one among many.”

  “That’s easier said than done, Arcanus. We don’t know where his followers are.”

  “That’s not quite true.”

  All eyes fell on Christophe.

  “Necronis has difficulty appearing on this world on his own,” began Christophe. “Magic isn’t the sort of natural force here that it is on other realms. And a god can’t just leave his realm. If he does so, his absence would create an imbalance. Also, Necronis has enemies who would exploit such an absence. So, there are rules and considerations that even he must obey. Of course he can send his essence into his followers here – usually when they are in a trance. He can’t do much in that state. But there is a place mentioned in the book, beyond this world, that his followers can get to. Now, this place is close enough to Necronis’s own realm that it allows Necronis’s essence to take on a physical form, albeit reduced in power and stature. But a constrained god is still fearsome.”

  “That doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t tell us how to get Felina and Suresh back,” interrupted Icarus.

  “Please let him finish Icarus,” said the woman with the pallid skin.

  Christophe smiled at her. “I’m sorry. I don’t think we’ve met.”

  “I am Mrs. Frankenstein,” she said. “I was there when you opened the earth to swallow up the giant. You didn’t see me because you couldn’t.”

  “I’m sorry. I don’t understand.”

  “I was invisible.”

  “Ah.” Looking slightly bemused, Christophe continued, “Anyway, the book tells us how to get there. From there, all you need to do is find his followers. With luck, you should be able to follow them back. Either that or you’d meet the giant there.”

  “I take it you remember the steps?” asked Icarus.

  “Yes.”

  “Excellent,” cried the Ringmaster.

  “Of course, I’ll have to go with you Adam,” said Christophe.

  “I understand.” Turning to Icarus, the Ringmaster said, “Icarus, I will try to return here. While I’m away, should anything happen, move the circus. If I return to find you gone, I will make my way to London and wait for you there.”

  It was evening when the Ringmaster led one of the carnivorous horses from the stables to the front of the big tent, where Christophe waited with Octavius. All the circus folk were gathered there to wish them off. The horse was a bit jittery and resisted being led.

  “Ah, Felina would know how to calm you down, Delilah,” he whispered in a calming tone. Then, facing Christophe, he asked, “Are you ready?”

  Christophe nodded and without waiting, began the ritual. The Ringmaster half-expected something dramatic to happen but nothing did. And for a long while, nothing did happen. He saw the look of disappointment on the faces of those gathered. Then, he noticed the tendrils around Delilah’s mouth seething. She grew increasingly agitated. The Ringmaster turned to pat her on the neck when the light seemed to change. The greyness around him brightened. When he turned around, the circus was gone. So was the evening sky. He, Christophe and their mounts now stood on a desolate plain, beneath the glare of an afternoon sun. And in the distance, was a single house.

  Chapter 6: The Lonely House

  The room stank of blood. The brother and sister were taken by surprise when Oswald appeared with the giant and the cat. The sister had fled the room, slamming the door shut and raising an alarm. The brother now managed one last attempt at getting to his feet before dropping with a dull thud, running his hand over the wall and staining it with his blood. Oswald prodded the body with his foot, covering his nose with his shirt sleeve. Fanfer hunched over him, wiping blood from his hands on the fabric of the sofa. The Spindle Cat stayed in its usual spot over Fanfer’s shoulders, observing events with an air of indifference.

  “Hurry, Fanfer,” cried Oswald. “Eleanor’s probably alerted the entire house by now.”

  “I sense her upstairs. Come, Oswald.”

  A slit of golden light peered from the third eye of the Spindle Cat. It bathed the room in its glow and Oswald went up close to Fanfer, expecting to appear before Eleanor within the next few moments. When the light died down, they found themselves in another room. It was an empty shell of a room, devoid of any furniture. Oswald sniffed the air and noticed marks on the wall which resembled splotches of dirt. “That smell. She’s gone to the Lonely House!”

  “What is the Lonely House?” asked Fanfer.

  “It’s a house on a flat, empty plain beyond this world. Only the most favoured of Necronis’s disciples are given the spell to open a gate there, and even then, it may not always work for this gate has been given intelligence so that it will only open for those it regards as being most worthy. They go there to see if they can meet him. He can take on a physical form there, you know. Most only manage a glimpse though for he would rarely condescend to grant an audience. Can you imagine the grace that Necronis’s disciples must earn in order to persuade the gate to open for them? I’ve been there once myself,” said Oswald with pride. “I remember the sky was a vivid blue and the earth was a rich red colour. And I saw him.”

  The Spindle Cat meowed close to Fanfer’s ear. Fanfer cocked his head to one side, as if he listened to the cat talking to him. After a while, he said, “I know this place. We will go there to find her. But first, there are the others to take care of.”

  The three if them went from room to room, appearing out of the air in a field of golden light. Wherever they went, Necronis’s disciples stood ready to defend their sanctuary. Exhortations for aid and salvation rang out in the house, but none came. Outside, there was nothing to suggest to those passing by that anything out of the ordinary happened. Inside, the disciples fell like ragged dolls under Fanfer’s onslaught.

  Christophe and the Ringmaster mounted and rode their mounts to the house in the distance. It was not too hot, despite the sun’s glare. The house grew larger as they approached. It surprised the Ringmaster that the house looked like any ordinary house found in England.

  You’d expect the architecture to be a bit more exotic, wouldn’t you Arcanus?

  Christophe did not answer. A frown appeared on his face. There was a quiet that Christophe found unsettling. Not a sound peeped out of the house. He dismounted, walked up to the window and looked inside. The interior – it looked like the drawing room – was furnished to suit a rich and opulent life: the sofas were gilt and upholstered with the finest silks; a chandelier hung from the ceiling, dripping with cascades of crystal; and the mantelpiece above the fireplace looked like it was made from polished amber. He went to the door and turned the handle. The door opened.

  “Well, I suppose we might as well go in,” he said to the Ringmaster.

  “I suppose,” replied the Ringmaster.

  The anteroom was decorated as richly as the drawing room. The walls almost shone with silk and gold. A magnificent marble stairway greeted them, sweeping upwards in a grand manner. Upstairs, the rooms were just as lavish; all except for one. It was a room built in the middle of the house for it contained no windows. Only one door led to it. Unlike the ostentatious furnishings found elsewhere in the house, this room was bare and
austere. There was a smell which lingered in the air and the walls were marked with blemishes.

  “Odd,” said the Ringmaster. “How very odd.”

  “What do you make of that smell?” asked Christophe. “It’s almost leathery, isn’t it? And yet, there’s nothing here. Nothing at all.”

  “I beg your pardon?” a voice asked in tones of outrage. “Nothing!? I am not nothing. And how dare you call me leathery. I have radiant skin.”

  The Ringmaster and Christophe turned as one. A large woman’s face, as large as the Ringmaster was tall, peered out at them from one of the walls. Her long curly hair twirled about and formed a perfect oval around her face.

  “Oh? I’ve never seen you two before. Who are you?”

  “I am Arcanus, and this is my friend Adam,” replied Christophe. “And who might you be?” he asked, a bit too quickly.

  “My dear, if that’s the tone you’re going to use, then I might as well not show my face,” she said.

  “Apologies. We are new here,” said the Ringmaster.

  “Oh good, good, good. I love new company. The others just come and go as they please without even a good morning, good afternoon or a good night.”

  “You must find that off-putting,” said the Ringmaster.

  “Truly. I’ve given them years of service, and that is how rudely they treat me. Not a word of thanks, or an appreciative smile,” she said with a theatrical sigh. “Now, what can I do for you?”

  “Well, for starters, you might tell us your name,” said Christophe.

  “I am Gate.”

  “And what do you do, Gate?” asked the Ringmaster.

  “I hold a very important post. As my name suggests, I allow the people who come here to go home.”

  “To England?” asked the Ringmaster.

  “Of course.”

  “And how do they come here? Do you appear in a house in England as well?” asked Christophe.

  “No, that’s my brother’s duty. We’ve never talked about it, but I think he’s called Gate too.”

  “So you are a one-way portal out of this realm, and there’s another portal somewhere in England which brings people here. That’s not a very efficient way to do things.”

  “Well, what if there are people in both places who need to travel? I can’t bloody well turn up in both places at once, can I?” Gate asked in an irritated voice. “So, there is a specific point of ingress and a specific point of egress,” Gate announced importantly.

  “And where is the entrance?” asked Christophe.

  “First, the password,” said Gate.

  “How are we supposed to know that?” snapped Christophe.

  “Then I can’t show you. Rules are rules,” said Gate.

  “Gate,” said the Ringmaster in a pleading voice, “I’m sure you’ll be able to bend the rules. Please. Will you show us?”

  Gate looked mesmerised. Her eyes lacked focus and Christophe could feel the Ringmaster’s concentration, directing his thoughts at her, cajoling and persuading her to bend to his wishes.

  “Well, since you two are obviously gentlemen …” she muttered. There was a short pause. “All right. I will show, and only because I’m so glad you asked nicely,” said Gate with a smile, and a large tongue emerged from her mouth. The tongue rested on the floor like a long red carpet as Gate opened her mouth until her maw took up a large portion of the wall. Christophe and the Ringmaster looked into the opening which resembled a red tunnel extending far beyond the wall of the house.

  Gate kept her eyes on the two men, waiting for many minutes until she suddenly closed her mouth and pulled her tongue in.

  “Well? Aren’t you going to enter? I can’t keep my mouth open forever, can I?” she asked.

  Christophe scrunched up his face.

  “Oh. Arcanus thinks it is the worst fate in the world to be swallowed by a woman with a twelve-foot tongue,” said Gate, and she cackled a few moments later.

  “You’re not a woman. You’re just a portal given an organic form and intelligence to interact with the people you serve. Besides, that tongue of yours is barely six feet long.”

  Gate snorted. “Aren’t you charming? Do you kiss your wife with that mouth of yours?” she asked.

  “I’m not married.”

  “I’m not surprised.” After a few moments, she said,” Well, you have no choice. If you want to go to England, you’ll have to enter through my mouth. After all, you can’t enter through the arse end, can you?” She laughed. “Speaking of which …”

  A bump appeared on the opposite wall. It grew until it resembled a mound. Out of that mound, an opening appeared; and out of that opening came a woman who looked to be in her twenties. The moment she stepped onto the floor, she collapsed to her knees.

  Christophe and the Ringmaster went to her.

  “Are you all right?” asked the Ringmaster.

  She shook with fright. Her eyes were wide with fear and her hands were cold and clammy with sweat. She pushed away the Ringmaster’s proffered hand.

  “Who are you!? Gate! Who are these people?” she cried almost hysterically as she pushed herself to her feet.

  Gate rolled her eyes as she answered, “Your colleagues, I imagine.”

  “Idiot! Can’t you see they’re not one of us?” she asked, beating her chest as she stressed the last word.

  “How would I know?” Gate retorted. “Perhaps if you lot take a bit of time out of your busy lives for a bit of a chat, a bit of a tete-a-tete, I’d know better.”

  “Silence! I’m in no mood to indulge your insolence.” She turned to face Christophe and the Ringmaster. “As for you two, you are trespassing on private property.”

  “Miss, how do you know we are not one of you? Would we have been able to get here if we weren’t Necronis’s followers?” asked the Ringmaster.

  “You? A follower of Necronis?” asked Eleanor with a sneer in her voice. “You look like a fop.”

  “Looks are deceiving,” said Christophe. “Do you go about the streets of England announcing your beliefs? Do you parade your vestments for everyone to see? Do you invite attention needlessly?”

  “Of course not. I’m not a fool.”

  “Neither are we,” declared Christophe.

  “Then tell me the words to summon this Gate’s brother back home.”

  “We didn’t travel here that way. We opened our own portal.”

  “Impossible. Not one of us has been given such power. We’ve only been able to get here through Gate.”

  “No, it’s not impossible at all. I have such power. And I’m sure Necronis will grant you such power too if you show stronger faith,” said Christophe with a voice that was soft, smooth and sweet. The smile he gave Eleanor brimmed with half-concealed self-assuredness.

  I can’t be wrong, thought Eleanor.

  “How tiresome,” said Gate. Her voice cut through the air. “Of course, Adam is our Lord’s follower. I can see the mark clearly on him. Otherwise, I would have raised an alarm. His friend here, though, carries a different mark.” She flashed a wink at Christophe and continued, “That would normally be worrying but since he’s with someone who carries such a strong mark – and since I like him – I’ve decided to trust him.

  “You should do the same dear,” she said to Eleanor. “Being so suspicious all the time ages you. Have you had a good look at your skin?” Returning her look to Christophe, she said, “You wouldn’t want to end up with ugly skin, all lined and leathery.”

  Can I be wrong? The thought insinuated itself into her mind. Eleanor, who had always been confident started to feel doubt. She did not like the feeling at all. She turned her back to the men, not wanting them to see the fear and uncertainty she felt she showed on her face. It was an almost crippling feeling, for the genesis of doubt over one decision would almost certainly spread to others. Turning again and looking from Gate to the Ringmaster to Christophe, Eleanor finally conceded, “Perhaps I’ve been mistaken. You must forgive me. I was unfair to you. I’ve … I�
��ve only just escaped with my life.”

  “What do you mean?” asked the Ringmaster.

  “We’re under attack.” As she opened the door to leave, she said, “Gate, if Oswald arrives, raise an alarm. He has betrayed us.”

  Chapter 7: Arrival

  They sat in the drawing room downstairs, the very one which Christophe had spied from the outside. Eleanor sat on an armchair with a high back, facing Christophe and the Ringmaster who sat on the sofa. From somewhere, she had produced tea for them to drink and light food for them to eat. Once in a while, Christophe cast his eyes out the window, checking on Octavius and Delilah. They seem content enough even though there was no grass for them to crop and the featureless landscape offered nothing to tempt their interest.

  “I was with my brother Tom when Oswald and the giant appeared out of thin air. It was all very sudden. The giant reached out and grabbed hold of Tom.” Her eyes became distant as she spoke, as if she could see the act played out again. “All that blood …”

  “What did you do, Eleanor?” asked the Ringmaster.

  “I ran,” she replied in a whisper. “I ran straight to the summoning room and called Gate’s brother. You don’t know how relieved I was when he came. He’s not a very engaging sort. And I raised quite a storm when I ran through the house. I could have easily woken the dead with the noise I made. The others would’ve heard me and they would’ve raised arms against the intruders.” She shook as she re-lived the memory. “The others …” She suddenly raised her eyes and looked to and fro between the Ringmaster and Christophe. “Do you think they survived?”

  The Ringmaster and Christophe passed a look between them and fell quiet.

  “You … don’t think so,” she said. “That look you shared … You’ve encountered the giant before, haven’t you? What is it that you’re not telling me? Adam? Arcanus?”