Spurned
Page 18
Chapter Seventeen
The guards inclined their heads to Mr. Hither and began to shoo away the crowd. Mr. Hither glanced at her and murmured, “My wagon.”
He disappeared and she turned to see Icari picking up the thrown coins from his show. He kept looking around for her, anxiety stamped on his face.
She made a small hand signal to indicate she was okay. He grinned and twirled a yellow scarf around. She shook her head then melted into the crowd, edging towards Mr. Hither's wagon. Icari was such an elegant, refined sort of person, regal even. He bore himself with dignity all out proportion to a carnival showman. Like a prince walking among commoners. She could never understand why he was friends with her.
She drew up to Hither's wagon and climbed the steps. She saw he was already sitting behind his desk, his raven beside him, not a hair out of place, not even a slight indication he had just had a confrontation with the King's Guards or the locals. The bird was digging his beak into a red lump that made the tiny space smell like raw meat. Or blood.
Mr. Hither nodded to a narrow chair before his desk. She moved forward and sat as if in a dream. Sitting with him near midnight seemed like a bad idea.
He pressed his pale fingertips together and looked at her with dark eyes. He said softly, “I never leave my wagon for trivial matters.”
“I know. I am sorry you had to leave for me.” Her throat was tight and her knees were pressed together.
“Perhaps you should take what I said as a compliment and not a reprimand.”
She nodded.
“I have plans for you, Kara.”
Silence greeted this declaration. She stared at him, confused. She remembered Icari's distrust of Hither, his conviction that the carnival man was a dark mage with secret plots lurking under the bright paint and gaudy costumes of the carnival.
She found her voice, though those frightening thoughts still consumed her. “What's your plans?”
“You are overdue for an upgrade in status.”
“I am?”
“Yes. You have excellent aim when throwing knives.”
It was not a question. She wondered how he knew. Did Vayne drop a hint, hoping to push forward his strongman/knife throwing act?
“Yes.”
“We happen to have need of a knife throwing act. Our former showman died.”
“From what?”
“A knife wound.”
She had not known the knife thrower very well. He had been a loud man with a swinging walk, drunk more often than not. “I'm sorry to hear he died.”
“I am not. His act was stale and unoriginal. I believe you could bring a freshness to the tired old show.”
She sat there, stunned. Her fortune was getting better by the minute. Going from a pickpocket to a full act was a huge upgrade in status and pay. She would make more coin and make it honorably. If she freed her mother...
No, when, the little voice insisted. Have no doubt or hope is lost. When you free your mother...
When she freed her mother, she could easily afford to pay her mother's way if she wanted to stay in the carnival. She could share Kara's tent and relax for the first time in her life as a free woman. She shivered in excitement at the thought.
As if hearing her utter her dreams aloud, Mr. Hither said, “You will have your own private tent. You keep half of the coin thrown your way. I expect it will be triple what you earn now if your show is a success. Do you accept the position?”
“Can I have a day to think about it?”
His lips pressed together and she could not tell if he was suppressing a smile or a frown. “I do not offer second chances, Kara. Yes or no.”
She sighed and closed her eyes. “Yes.”
She heard the sound of parchment sliding across his desk and she opened her eyes to see a very long contract before her and a quill nearby. She picked it up and skimmed the contract. It was written in tiny letters and she saw nothing out of the ordinary at first...agree to perform five shows six nights a week...half the coin went to the carnival...management reserved the right to change her act or modify it in whatever way they saw fit...had to perform for three years...since she was a female, clause had been added that she could not get pregnant...
The last two clauses made her pause. “I would be in a binding contract for three years?”
“Yes.”
“Why can't I get pregnant?”
“You cannot perform well if pregnant and a squalling child will take up an inordinate amount of your time and energy. I am sure you have noticed there are no children traveling with us. Nor will there ever be.”
She had noticed, and wondered about it. She said, “So what if I got pregnant before the end of my contract?”
“If you break contract in any way, you owe the carnival twenty five gold coins for each month you defect. So if you defected after a year and owed us two years of work, you would owe six hundred coins. It is in the last section.”
She skimmed it and nodded. “I see.” She inhaled. Something felt wrong about this, but where else could she go in the world? Her and her mother had few options for employment...
He added with cottony softness, “Your mother may stay in your tent with you as long as you pay her way. Her food and sustenance will cost one silver coin a week on top of half your earnings.”
She winced. That seemed like a lot for a few bowls of grub and tepid water to drink, but the relative safety of the carnival was hard to place a price on. They took care of their own here, she would give the carnies credit for that. She looked at him sharply. “How did you know about my mother?”
He merely smiled and sat back in the shadows.
He had her by the throat. His message was silent but clear: Sign the contract or leave the carnival.
She picked up the quill, dipped it in his inkwell, and signed. He whisked the contract away and laid it flat upon a shelf to dry after sprinkling sand upon it.
The raven ripped away new chunk of flesh and dropped the stringy mess back. It said, “Slave. Slave. Slave.”
She frowned at it.
“How is your new friend Lyla?”
“She's fine.” Kara was growing more and more uncomfortable in his presence. For the love of the Goddess, what had she just signed?
He raised an eyebrow and switched subjects. “I believe you have something of mine upon your person.”
She stared at him, uncomprehending.
“Did your friend Lyla not recently gift you with a small fortune in diamonds?”
Her face reddened. “Yes. But she gave it to me away from the carnival.”
“While you are under my employment, half of any of your findings are mine.”
She nodded, feeling a little numb. How could he have possibly known, unless Icari snitched...
No, she told herself firmly. He would never. Hither is spying on us. How else could he know about the diamonds and my mother?
She reached under her shirt and pulled out the tiny pouch. She counted half the diamonds out. Ten. She placed the five largest on his desk. The wood was cold and smooth.
“You still have enough to buy your mother's freedom.”
She nodded, trying not to react to his excessive knowledge of her life.
“Tell me how Lyla came by these diamonds. Spare no detail.”
She licked her dry lips. She would have to omit lots of details to protect Lyla's true heritage. She figured he already knew but was testing her loyalty to him.
She resolved not to betray her friend's trust. Even if he did know she was a fae, he would not hear it from Kara's lips. She said lightly, “Lyla, Icari, and I were out in the woods. Lyla came across a deceased traveler. He had this pouch with his belongings.”
“It must have been gruesome work to unearth the jewels.”
“Oh, it was,” she lied glibly. “Disgusting. Worms and everything.”
The raven croaked, “Worms. Worms.”
“And that is the entire story? You were just walking about a dangerous woo
d for no reason?”
“Yes.”
Mr. Hither stared at her for a very long time. He was using her own methods of silent intimidation. She stared back, refusing to look down even though her knees were shaking. The battle of wills struggled on as the raven chewed and muttered to itself.
After an eternity, he broke the stalemate. “Start your stage act training tomorrow. Work with Icari for now. I expect you to be ready to perform when we set up outside the Brahm estates.”
She stood up, hoping her knees would not give out on her. “I will.”
He nodded and pulled another parchment from a drawer onto his desk. He did not bother to respond to her affirmation, so she left the wagon with forced slowness, with casual footsteps. She tucked her remaining diamonds under her shirt with icy fingers.
She crawled back to her blessedly empty tent and curled into a tight ball. She fell asleep and dreamed she had sold her sold to the Devil himself.