Broken People (14 page)

She walked with confidence on the
cobblestones, the setting sun casting a glowing light on her
delicate features.
Well?
she seemed to ask as she watched
him from the corner of her eye.

“You want something from me,” Dale said.
This wasn’t a courtesy call.

Aurore nodded, and a small smile twisted the
corners of her lips. “I want you to do me a favor.”

It wasn’t the answer Dale had hoped for, but
he repressed the impulse to grab and shake her. He doubted it would
have helped. The woman was like a rock. So instead of assaulting
her in the middle of the street, Dale inhaled deeply, only to
grimace the next second when the smoke rising from the kiosks on
both sides of the street filled his lungs. It got worse in the
square they entered next. Aurore walked as fast as her high heels
allowed, but Dale was used to walking faster and still getting a
headache from the smoke. This was going to be a big one.

He cast a glance at her. “Then I guess this
isn’t the right time for me to say I’m getting sick of this
game.”

“It’s not a game,” Aurore said. “But we’ll
talk about this after the show. There’s a reception after it, so
this will be a long night. I hope you didn’t make any plans.”

Just to return to the deserted attic
.
A small diversion from the daily routine was welcome but, at the
same time, the idea made him wary. He was a man with a mission, and
if anything happened to him before completing it … He didn’t want
to think about that. Too much depended on his success.

“I don’t have any plans until next weekend.”
He had to meet with the circus crew and work on the strategy some
more, but other than that, he felt like he would die of boredom if
she didn’t put him to work.

“Hopefully, it won’t take that long.”

Those were the last words she spoke until
they reached the long and narrow theater square. Cars, dropping off
passengers, stopped briefly in front of the Renaissance building,
but it wasn’t as crowded as Dale had expected. “We’re late.”

“We’re
fashionably
late,” Aurore
said.

When they reached the steps, Dale offered
her his arm and she gracefully took it. Her light touch on the
sleeve of his coat told him she didn’t need the support. Those must
have been some awesome prosthetics, even more so as they were
invisible once she handed her cape to a member of the staff.

Several of the people present in the lobby
stared discreetly at her. Aurore’s burgundy dress fell to the
ground, leaving her shoulders, arms, and back bare. White gloves
stopped above her elbows. With the slitless dress, her only visible
glitter came from the necklace. The usual leaf-shaped crystal lay
at the base of her slender neck. It was the only jewelry she wore,
and Dale couldn’t imagine how much it cost or why it was so special
to her.

“Nice dress,” he said, and Aurore arched an
eyebrow. The dress was simple, with no decorations, perfectly
hugging her lean figure. “Very … effective.”

“If people are going to stare, better give
them a good reason to do it,” Aurore said. “Ready to make an
entrance?” She reached for his arm again.

Compared to her simple attire, Dale felt
overdressed, but there was no going back now. They crossed the
lobby, heading for the stairs. All the while, Aurore exchanged
small nods and smiles with people passing by. She knew everyone, or
at least everyone knew her. However, she showed no interest in
stopping to chat. She stumbled at the top of the stairs and looked
as surprised as Dale when her grip tightened on his arm. He
reconsidered his initial impression of her again, but Aurore didn’t
acknowledge the slip.

She led him to a door on the first floor,
close to the left side of the stage, and opened it. Dale had
expected a private box, but someone was already inside—an older man
with a porky figure who didn’t bother to get up. He turned in his
seat and smiled widely.

Dale froze, recognizing the face—the face of
a man too greedy to think about the greater good. This man was the
reason Dale was here—to steal from him.

“My dear, I thought you abandoned me here.
You’re never late,” the man spoke to Aurore, ignoring Dale.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Aurore
said with a thin smile. “Dale, this is Mayor Ternchiev, my former
tutor. He’s been lonely since poor Aunt Olivia passed away, so
we’ll keep him company this evening.”

“Sir.” Dale bowed at the waist but couldn’t
bring himself to say it was a pleasure.

“And who is your new friend, my dear?”
Ternchiev nodded in return, his smile never faltering.

“Uncle Tem, this is Dale Armstrong,” Aurore
said.

Ternchiev gave him an up and down look. “Any
connection with General Armstrong?”

“No, sir.”
Not anymore
. It wasn’t
technically a lie since the general had died in one of the last
battles before the army abandoned Asia altogether.

With a sideways glance, Aurore continued,
“We met during my last trip to Zurich. He happened to be in town
and was curious about the show.”

“The Nightingale Circus never tours
Switzerland,” Dale easily joined her in the lie. He didn’t know it
for a fact, but it seemed plausible. Despite the war, Switzerland
remained pristine and had the most advanced health care system in
Europe, second in the world after Japan. The Swiss would never
allow circus freaks to mar their streets. Besides, life continued
to be expensive in Switzerland. In the absence of extra income, the
circus would starve there.

“That’s a shame.” Ternchiev gestured for
them to take a seat. “The Nightingale Circus has entertained us for
several years.” He didn’t mention banning the circus to the
outskirts of the town a few years back by passing a law he both
proposed and enforced.

Squeezing the mayor’s shoulder, Aurore sat
at his right and signaled Dale to occupy the seat on her other
side. Seated this close, Dale could smell her perfume and enjoy the
expanse of perfectly natural, exposed skin. He forced himself to
move his eyes from her so Ternchiev wouldn’t get annoyed with his
attentions. The fatherly attitude didn’t fool Dale. The man
considered Aurore something of his he needed to protect.

They had barely made themselves comfortable
when the door opened again, and Renard peeked inside. “Don’t get
up; don’t get up!” The magician waved both hands. “Has everyone
arrived? Good. We’re ready to start the show. Prepare yourselves to
be amazed … and let’s hope the electrical system works.” He laughed
as if it were a joke and rushed back out.

“How are we doing?” Nicholas asked, meeting
Rake and Spinner backstage.

A flock of dancers wearing feathers and not
much else rushed past them on their way to the stage.

“It’s holding so far,” Rake said. “And if
there’s a shortage, we’re prepared to power it from our supply
line.”

“And the Nightingale?”

“All secured in the sound booth,” Spinner
said. “Ten gymnasts are guarding her, and then the stilt men will
take over. We’ll gas the entire hall if anyone tries anything.”

“Wonderful.” Nicholas grimaced. They had
debated until the last moment whether to have the Nightingale sing
but, in the end, decided it was better to have her on board. If
they were wrong, the circus would never be able to set foot in
Bratislava, and probably the entire country, again. Luckily, it was
a small country—plenty of other places to go.

Shaking his head to chase the bad thoughts
away, he reached for his top hat and put it on. “Okay. Good luck,
everyone!” He picked up his walking stick, which was propped
against the wall.

“It’s not luck. It’s practice!” the people
around him chorused.

“Right.” Laughing, Nicholas headed for the
stage.

At his signal, the lights in the hall dimmed
until only one bright spotlight remained shining on the center of
the stage. The murmurs in the audience quieted down, and silence
filled the hall.

Show time.

The spotlight disappeared.

Someone protested in the darkness, but the
grumble was covered by gasps of surprise when the light bulbs
connected to the armrests of the seats lit up. A soft hum coming
from the speakers accompanied the light show, which soon revealed a
distinct pattern: a snake made of light swirled around the hall,
climbed on the walls, briefly visited the three rows of balconies,
then returned to the stage.

A drum roll broke the silence, and the main
spotlight returned while all of the other lights faded into
nothingness. Nicholas stood proudly, bathed by the light, and bowed
his head in greeting. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!”
Nicholas’s clear voice carried across the hall. “It’s an honor for
us to perform in such a wonderful venue. We invite you into our
special world. It’s strange, it’s daring, it’s mystifying. Prepare
yourselves to be amazed. Welcome to The Nightingale Circus!”

Nicholas raised a hand and stepped back. All
the lights came to life, revealing the ensemble spread around him
and waiting to perform. He retreated backstage where he waited.
Supervising the show inside the big circus arena was not his job,
but here, at the theater, after all the work he had put into it,
this
was
his show.

Given the audience’s reaction, the German
wheel and the contortionists were a big success—no surprise there.
It helped the entire crew had received orders to make their masks
look less frightening. Faced with a tamed public that wasn’t going
to jump in their seats or throw things on the stage, there was no
need to scare them to keep them in check. And they also had the
Nightingale to take care of that. Nicholas was anxious to see the
reaction to her singing, but a little wary, too. If they liked it
too
much…

A hand rested on his arm, and when he
glanced to his left, he found Anya standing by his side. The shades
of silver, obsidian, and ice of her mask morphed, forming a smile
as dazzling as her swan costume. She moved, and pieces of fabric
twitched, switching their color from white to black and back again.
Cielo had done a fine job.

“What are you doing here?” Nicholas asked in
a low voice. He knew the schedule by heart, up to the last second,
and her turn hadn’t come yet.

“I’m nervous. I wanted to get a feel for the
crowd.” Anya stared out through the open exit.

“It’s a decent crowd. They have their own
dance and ballet ensemble, so your grace won’t be lost on them. You
have nothing to wo—” Nicholas paused and lowered his head. Anya’s
confidence in her dancing skills was far greater than that. It
wasn’t her fault no ballet company would hire her once they saw her
medical records. Regardless of their opinion, she continued to
dance and would do so until the machinery inside her chest broke
down. “Okay, you got me.” He stifled a chuckle. Anya had read him
better, and it was he who needed the support. If the show turned
out to be a disaster for
any
reason, it wouldn’t be easy on
him. And, like all members of the circus, he had no other place to
go.

The mask kept her features hidden, but Anya
leaned in to whisper, “Your secret is safe with me.”

Her smile could have been a promise if only
Nicholas had held onto it. If everything worked out tonight and he
had enough to drink at the post-show celebration party, he might.
The acknowledgement made him want to put more distance between
them, to stay away from temptation, but just then, a small army of
dogs ran towards the stage, and Anya yelped and hid behind him.
Nicholas held a protective arm in front of her, shielding her from
danger, although her fears were silly. The dogs were too
well-trained to bite anyone, but Anya didn’t trust any creature
with teeth that could reach her ankles.

“It’s okay. They’re gone now,” he said.

Two pairs of capuchin monkeys followed on
tricycles, honking their horns. The theater management deemed the
doves too messy, so these were the only animals included in the
program.

Laughter filled the hall as the clowns tried
hard to distract the animals and ruin their acts.

Anya peeked over his shoulder and muttered,
“I hate those clowns.”

Nicholas squeezed the delicate hand that
still rested on his arm. Even with her apparent carefree attitude,
Anya was capable of holding a grudge for a long time. It was
particularly hard to forget about it when those clowns stuck their
hands inside your chest every night. Nicholas felt guilty for doing
the same thing to her and adding to her discomfort, but at least it
didn’t detract from her enjoyment when she danced.

The stilt men entered the stage and danced
wildly around the room, the dogs accompanying their every move
while their legs elongated, tripling their size.

“You could use a pair of those,” Nicholas
said, half-joking. “They would protect you from the dogs.”

Anya threw him a murderous glare and slapped
his arm, stepping to the side. “You stay away from my legs!”

Well, maybe she wasn’t going to come down
hard on him after all. Nicholas straightened his tailcoat and
checked the red carnation pinned to his lapel. He could have used a
fake one, but he preferred fresh flowers when he could get
them.

“You’re—” He was going to say “You’re next”,
but Spinner coming towards them stopped him. “Any problems?”

“No,” Spinner said. “We’re supplying ten
percent of the power from our source, but it’s holding. We’re
prepared to go with a full hundred percent if needed. It’s less
than the circus consumes, and the circus is closed tonight. It will
be fine.”

“I thought channeling all the power at this
distance was supposed to be problematic because of the ancient
electrical system,” Nicholas said, and scolded himself again for
not insisting on performing in the new theater building, which was
closer to the current standards.