Pantomime (11 page)

 

I woke to find myself in our cart and Arik applying a cooling salve to my hands. "How long have I been here?"

  "Most of the day."

  I emerged that evening, bruised and shamed. That night, Bil stepped in.

  "You may think you're clever clowns," Bil said after the show and carnival.

  "I am a clever clown!" the green clown, Rian, called out.

  "Shut it." Bil glowered. "But if anyone pulls a stunt that costs me any equipment, men, or money, then you're out. I don't give a tinker's damn who you are. You're out with no pay and no reference." He slapped his teak cane on the ground for emphasis. He did not look at me as he spoke.

  But while his words stopped the pranks, they only heightened the resentment. And that night, my pack went missing.

  I searched the cart, and it was not there. My heart pattered in my chest. I tried to keep my breathing steady and stay calm as I rifled through my bedclothes. It was not anywhere.

  In my pack there was the Kedi figurine, a strange possession for a teenage boy. More importantly, there was also a dress, and a rambling letter to Cyril I had not sent because it was not in code, signed with "your loving sister, Gene." I bashed my fist on my pallet, angry at myself for being so foolish. My mouth felt dry.

  My bandaged hands had stopped burning. I walked along the beach to gather my thoughts, barefoot in the sand as the afternoon lengthened to evening. I climbed a dune, the long blades of beach grass tickling my ankles in the wind. The air smelled of brine and smoke. The wind was chill and I shivered beneath my thin, patched coat. The sun disappeared over the sea.

  I turned and looked toward the city. The ridge of Penglass had almost disappeared in the gloom. But as the darkness increased, the Penglass grew brighter, glowing first a dark midnight-blue, and then brightening to a luminous sapphire. Penglass only glowed on the night of the full moon. The light transformed the city of Sicion from a dreary, soot-stained sandstone city to something magical.

  I stared at the glowing Penglass for a long time before climbing back down to the beach, my thoughts tumbling around in my mind. It felt as though I had only just joined the circus, but I would soon be heading home. Jive had probably taken my pack as a prank, and he would not hesitate to rifle through my belongings. Empty shells crunched beneath my feet. The sea foam of the dark water lapped around my ankles.

  I wondered why I was letting them treat me this way, and why I did not simply take this as a sign that I was meant to return home. There, I did not practice tumbling and climbing until my hands were blistered and raw. I did not wake up from a clean, feather-down bed with my muscles feeling like they had been torn and sewn inexpertly together by a drunken surgeon. My life had not been perfect and had its own challenges, but I had so many who cared for me.

  I missed Cyril with a sharp pang each and every day. I had written letters but there was no way for him to respond. Perhaps I should leave and return. Perhaps my running away would have proven to my parents that I would not allow them to change my life and they would leave me be.

  Leave me be to be a spinster, tolerated in society but always just outside of it, pitied, and always under my parent's roof. And if they died before me, I would be a burden on Cyril. As a Laurus, I would have no way to support myself through employment, unless I became a governess or turned to writing or teaching, neither of which I thought would be my true calling. At least in the circus I had the freedom to be myself, even if most of the others did not seem to like me overmuch. I kicked a stone into the water.

  I heard the padding of running feet and turned. Aenea caught up with me. She had just bathed, and her hair hung in dark ropes against her skin. She wore a thin silken robe from Linde, printed with faded cranes and stylized clouds. She must have been cold, but she did not shiver.

  "Micah. I went to your cart to see how you were," she said. "Arik said you'd gone for a walk."

  I did not say anything, but I held my bandaged hands behind my back.

  "It was a cruel prank that they did," she said.

  "The chalk or my pack?" I asked.

  A line appeared between her brows. "Your pack?"

  "It's gone."

  The line disappeared. "Ah. They do that sometimes. Don't worry – I know where they'll have hidden it. Follow me." We walked up the strand plain.

  I pressed my lips together and looked out over the ocean. "Did this happen to you, when you joined the circus?"

  "Yes, but not quite as badly."

  "Why do you think it's worse for me?"

  "Because you're merchant class. I think most of the others believe you think yourself better than us. Lofty, some of 'em call you."

  I had tried to roughen my speech and not mention much of my past, but I suppose I still had not learned how to be convincing. "Do you think that of me?" I asked, fearful of the answer.

  "No, I don't. You seem more… scared of us, almost. Like you always think you're going to say the wrong thing. Like you're weighing up all the different responses before you speak."

  I caught myself considering all the different ways I could respond, and smiled wryly. "I suppose I do. I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm always doing the wrong thing."

  "I have a feeling it'll start to ease off, soon. Bil doesn't like that you won't be able to practice properly for a week at least."

  Dread filled me. How would I spend my days? "I guess I'll work on my splits, or see if I can master that handless cartwheel you showed me the other day."

  She laughed, and nudged me in the shoulder. "That's the spirit, Micah." I was grateful to the dark night that hid my blush.

  We came upon a crevice in the rock of the cliffs. Aenea bent down, her arm disappearing into the darkness. I had the irrational worry that something terrible would be in the darkness and would hurt her. She had a rip in the seam of her robe at the shoulder. Her arm emerged unscathed, holding my sandy, damp pack. She threw it to me and I clutched it to my chest. My pack felt the same weight that it normally did, and I could feel the Kedi figurine through the canvas.

  "Do… Do you think they've looked at it?" I asked, fearful.

  She shrugged a shoulder. "It's possible. But if it was the clowns, you might be in luck. Drystan's the head of the clowns, so usually he goes through them first and decides if there's anything worth sharing in the group." She laughed. "One of the other circus hopefuls a few years ago was very surly. No one liked him at all. Drystan found a pair of his soiled undergarments in his pack and put them up in place of the flag of the big top. He left that night, without his drawers, and no one missed him."

  I had a terrible image of my dress flying from the big top. I felt as though I might be sick.

  We stared at the ink black ocean for several minutes, not speaking, but standing close enough to feel the warmth of each other's skin. We returned together, slowly, the glowing Penglass shading the sand with soft blue light. It would have been a good opportunity to take her hand, but with my injury I could not. At least that was my excuse.

  I did not see the dress on top of the tent when I returned.

  I lay on my pallet with my pack as my pillow. I had gone through it and everything was there and apparently undisturbed, even my letter to Cyril.

  I supposed I stayed in the circus because I already knew what my previous life had been like and what my future would likely be if I returned. I would wait, and work, and see.

  All that was certain in both lives was that I would always be keeping secrets.

 

"So how are you finding our humble circus, lad?" Bil asked me during a warm summer afternoon.

  I started. I had just finished feeding the otters and was watching them wrestle and chase each other about as I emptied the water of their tank. It was far easier than filling it, for I only had to connect a pipe that led the fetid water far enough away from the circus and to sea. I would have to fill it bucket by bucket. The otters were very tame, and Needle had taken a particular liking to me, sniffing my hand and letting me stroke his smooth, wet back. Needle had darted to his fellows at Bil's approach.

  "I… I like it very well, Mr Ragona" I said.

  "Very well, eh?" he said, raising his brows. He swung his cane idly around. Bil was never without his beautiful teak cane, polished to a high shine. The curve at the top was carved into the head of a ram; details of the horns and face etched in silver, the eyes emeralds. Bil smelled strongly of aftershave, with perhaps an undercurrent of alcohol despite the early hour. His shirt was sweat-stained and his face shiny.

  "There are obstacles," I said, staring at the cane as it swayed like a pendulum, "but nothing I cannot overcome, sir."

  "Very good, my boy, very good. I was worried you would wish to call it a day, after what happened."

  My hands itched in a phantom memory and my cheeks burned that he would bring up the chalk incident again. I also had the strange feeling that he was not asking out of worry for me, but to make sure I was not leaving. "I understand that it may be difficult for the circus to appreciate newcomers, sir. Arik called it 'hazing'."

  "So it is. It is an unfortunate practice, sure enough, but there's a reason for it, lad. Many join without the stomach for it. A life in the circus is not easy. If you keep with us, then it will end, and you'll be the stronger for it and the others will respect you all the more." He patted me on the shoulder a bit too hard.

  "I hope so. Thank you, Mr Ragona."

  He swung the cane and gazed at the otters jumping about in the emptying pool. I thought he would have left.

  "So, where did you say you came from, boy?"

  I licked my lips. "I'm from Sicion."

  "Aye, I'm not deaf. But where in the city did you live?"

  "Um." My mind went blank. "Jade Street." I could not even remember if Jade Street had residential tenements.

  "And what'd your parents sell?"

  The interrogation was making me uncomfortable. I thought of my mother. "Gas lights and glass globes. Fancy scented candles and the like."

  "Ah, luminaries. Did they teach you the trade then, boy?"

  Oh, Lord and Lady. Was this some sort of trap? "Of course, sir. I was to take over the business one day from my father. Before… the accident."

  He coughed. "Sorry to bring up the indelicate subject, boy. What kind o' accident, if I may ask? Naught with the glass globes, eh?"

  He was testing me. That was a trick question, but so few had close experiences with glass globes. "Not many ways for a tragedy to happen with a glass globe, sir, unless you cut yourself on the broken glass. The light fuel in it is not flammable." Once, Cyril and I had accidentally broken a glass globe in the dining room. We had painted ourselves with the glowing liquid, pretending we were the fearful Nunda tribe of Byssia, and the light had faded from our skin after a few hours. Mother had been quite annoyed. Glass globes were expensive. "My parents were lost at sea, returning from Kymri, where they bought their glass and fuel for their lights."

  He coughed again. "Course, my boy. Sorry to bring it up, as I said. Still, will be good to have a luminary apprentice in the circus, mind, in case our lights break."

  I gave a quick, fervent prayer to the Lord and Lady that all the gas lights and glass globes stayed in working order. Did the ringmaster know that my story was nothing but a lie?

  "Arik says that you're training well," Bil said, changing the subject.

  "Does he? That is very kind of him," I said, my voice too high.

  "He's not kind in this, just factual. Keep up the hard work, my boy. It is not going unnoticed." He gave me one last nod and ambled away, whistling.

  I could not help feeling like I had just been given a test and did not know if I had passed or not. In any case, the water-filled buckets I hauled to the otter tank grew no lighter with his praise.

 
 

UNPUBLISHED MEDICAL NOTES, DR BIRCHSWITCH

 

The train ride to Sicion was a somber affair.

  Father had left for the city immediately following the afternoon tea at the Hawthornes', taking the comfortable carriage. We had ridden to the station in the other hansom cab, and Mother complained about the outdated upholstery, muttering that she must convince Father to "transform" it. Cyril bought me a sherbet at the Emerald Station to cheer me up. The sour sugar fizzed on my tongue.

  We had a compartment to ourselves on the train. Mother put a mask over her eyes and promptly fell asleep. Her mouth opened and she snored. I wished I had a camera obscura to take a photograph to capture the moment forever. It would be perfect for blackmail.

  "Are you all right?" Cyril asked.

  He always knew when I was upset. "No."

  In hushed tones, I told him what had happened between Damien and me. Cyril's jaw muscles worked as he fought to keep down his rage.

  "When I next see him I'll–"

  "Do nothing," I finished. "It will solve nothing. He will not say anything. I will keep my distance from him. It will all pass over and eventually he may forget it ever happened."