Pantomime (33 page)

  She glanced over her shoulder, as if she expected Bil to have followed her. Nobody was there. She limped from the cart, slamming the compartment door behind her with a sound like a gunshot.

  "Poor Frit," Aenea whispered.

  "It's getting worse, isn't it?"

  "It is. People think she'll leave soon. And to be honest, I hope she does. She deserves better than this."

  Our fingers intertwined.

  "They must have loved each other, once," I said.

  "They did, I know it. When I first joined, I had never seen two people more in love. People were amused as first, with Bil so large and Frit so small and thin, sort of unassuming. But they were always together, joking and laughing. Frit used to always smile. They seemed to fit together perfectly. I thought to myself, 'That's what love is'. I suppose I was wrong."

  "They say love and hate are closely tied, that they can turn at a moment's notice."

  She sighed.

 

It took over a week to construct the circus on the beach of Imachara.

  Nearly every aspect of the circus had to be bigger for the capital. The big top looked like an odd cloth-draped spider puppet as it slowly emerged onto the packed sand on stone. The seating stands in the big top were stacked as closely as possible so that a few more hundred bodies could fit into the tent. A larger tent was used for the freakshow, so that more people could see its contents. The carnival would be nearly twice the size of Sicion's, with many local merchants bringing their own carts and tents of wares.

  We all helped erect the circus, and practice for the pantomime lasted long into the night. After three days, we were all teetering with exhaustion.

  One morning, Drystan made an announcement at breakfast. Bil was still abed, probably with a hangover from Styx, judging by how much he had quaffed the night before.

  "Listen!" Drystan cried, rapping a spoon against an empty pot. "Bil has generously given us the morning off to catch our breaths." Everyone cheered.

  "But it's only the morning. We're under a tight deadline, and we still have far more to do than we'd like. So be back by two hours past noon. And no drinking!" he called over the sound of many bodies returning their trays to have as much time in the city as possible.

  I was bouncing with so much excitement I felt as if I had springs attached to my soles. Aenea grinned with just as much enthusiasm.

  "What shall we do?" she asked. "Is there something you wanted to see the last time you were here that you did not get a chance to?"

  I thought a moment, and then I kissed Aenea on the cheek. "I know just the place."

  "What is it?"

  "A surprise."

  "I'll go gather my things."

  I raced to my cart and pocketed the remains of my coins and changed from my patched practice clothes to my less-worn ones and a light summer jacket. Knowing that Aenea would be primping and preening, I polished my shoes and ran a comb through my hair with a bit of pomade Arik had left behind. Before leaving, I glanced about the cart in dismay. As soon as Arik had left, I had given up any pretense of tidiness. I shrugged into my jacket and hurried to Aenea's cart.

  "My, but don't you look dapper," Aenea said when she came out of the cart she shared with Dot and the new contortionist, Ellen. She made quite a portrait herself, in the same green dress she had worn on our outing to Sicion together.

  "And don't you look positively breathtaking, my lady," I said, offering her my arm. The day would be sweltering. Aenea soon opened her parasol and we strolled beneath it.

  Imachara was very different from Sicion, the air more fetid and cloying, the streets packed with passersby. The Penglass ridge of Imachara dwarfed that of any other city, jutting into the air like the spinal ridge of a dragon. On a sunny day like this, the strange domes bathed large swaths of the city in blue shadow.

  Imachara was a constant bustle. Every night, something would be playing in the grand amphitheater, the Crescent, or any of the various smaller theatres. In the height of the season, balls were held by each prominent noble family, three or four a week. The grandest would always be in the Beach Ballroom, which we could just see from the site of the circus. Late at night, I had crept there and listened to the music, wondering if anyone I knew was dancing inside.

  Shops peddled wares from all over the world – glass and crystal from Kymri, leather and animal goods, Temri shops of jewelry, and Lindean exotic wood. The summer market was also in town, in Silvergold Square, where even more treasures could be found.

  "This must be a wonderful place to be rich," Aenea said, wonder and jealousy tinting her voice as we watched a lord and lady exit a carriage, leading a toddler between them, and walk into the Kymri glass shop. By their crest on the carriage, I knew they were the Balsas – a prominent family, but nowhere near the most wealthy or powerful.

  "It's probably an equally terrible place to be poor," I replied, nodding toward the dirty and pinched faces of the beggars on most corners.

  "Isn't any place awful to be poor?"

  "Maybe not Temne or Linde. You can eat fruit all day long and it's always warm. You could live in a tree."

  Aenea laughed. "You'd like that, you monkey. And then you could be eaten alive by a snake or slowly drained of blood by insects."

  "True." I went into a newsagent's and bought a map. Unfolding it, my brow furrowed as I tried to find our destination. It was not on the map.

  "You don't know where we're going?" Aenea teased.

  "I've only been to Imachara a handful of times, and always with my parents. Tarry a moment." I returned to the newsagent's and asked for directions. We were not far, which was lucky, as I had no fare for a hansom cab. I thanked the man and we headed toward the boundary of the Glass and Gilt quarters.

  Imachara was more clearly divided by class than Sicion, out of necessity. We were wandering through the merchant section, or the Brass Quarter, which also encompassed the docks. The Glass Quarter and the Brass Quarter were where the merchant classes lived, and the Gilt Quarter housed the nobles and richest of merchants. On the side of the city furthest from the Gilt Quarter were the Nickel and Copper quarters, for the destitute. The Penny Rookeries housed the poorest of the poor. As we walked closer to the Glass and Gilt, the streets became wider, cleaner, and less crowded. The sun sparkled off the mica of the granite pavement.

  "Hey," I laughed. "My name matches Imachara better than Sicion, doesn't it?"

  "So it does."

  The buildings grew increasingly ornate and grand. The men and women passing us wore silks and brocades. I hoped they would let us into our destination with our clean but plain muslin and cotton.

  The Museum of Mechanical Antiquities was a tall, narrow building squeezed between a clothing boutique and a high-end butcher. The paint of the sign flaked, the stone was layered with decades of grit and soot, stark against the clean buildings to either side. I did not remember it being so run down. I was amazed the city of Imachara allowed it to stay open, looking as it did in such a good neighborhood.

  Aenea's eyes lit with delight. "I've heard of this place and have always wanted to go. Well done, Micah!" She kissed me.

  I had been to the Mechanical Museum once before, but it had been over eight years ago. One artefact in particular had been my favourite, and I hoped it was still there.

  Aenea paid for both of our tickets.

  "No," she held up her hand as I held out coins to her. "You paid for me last time, and I have a better wage than you." I was relieved, having few coins left to my name.

  The museum had once been extraordinary, but the mirrored panels were cracked and the marble floor in need of polishing. The faded shell still housed priceless artefacts. Many people still visited the Mechanical Museum each year, and plenty were milling around that afternoon, but the money must not have stretched far enough for cosmetics. Judging by the doors and the guards, the money went to security.

  "I've heard all sorts of stories of this place," I told Aenea, taking her hand. "The government once owned everything and opened the museum for the public. After a while, between the attempted break-ins and the cost of maintenance, they were going to close it down. So a private investor decided to buy the building and also showcase his artefacts, and he had enough to rival the Royal Palace.

  "But the investor has been away from Ellada for years and did not leave clear instructions, so everything is slowly winding down. The government might retrieve their treasures and this place will probably close."

  "So sad. This place is wonderful. It should always be open."

  "Can you imagine how rich the investor must have been, to own a lot of these? I mean, look at this," I said, drawing her to the nearest display case. A monstrous gun that looked as if it should be monumentally heavy, but the placard stated weighed no more than a pistol. It once had the capability to shoot light beams that would "cut a man in twain" but had lost its power during the last Great War, over six hundred years ago.

  We examined each of the weapons. A great crossbow that could shoot over a mile and had once had a tracking ability. A spear with a rotating head. Countless other guns of all shapes and sizes.

  "Small wonder we blew the colonies to pieces," Aenea said, pointing at another cruel-looking crossbow with poisoned bolts.

  "Never had a chance."

  After the weapons came the armor, fitted on eerie, faceless mannequins made of wood. Some of the suits of armor had animal themes. A man wore armor as if made from tiny scales with the crest of a dragon on the chest. Another piece was etched as if in flames, the metal painted black, orange, and red. Untold centuries later, and there was not a chip or flake of color missing. A woman's armor had the theme of a large cat, with topaz eyes on the helm and tufted ears.

  None of the objects looked crafted by men, but rather seemed organic. Metals glinted blue, green, or orange when they hit the light, like oil mixed with water. Usually artefacts did not break; they simply ran out of power.

  We wandered beneath a canopy of glass globes, some small enough for fairies, others large enough for just one to light an entire ballroom.

  I watched Aenea beneath the lights. She caught me looking and smiled, drawing me in for a kiss, careless of the others surrounding us. Again, we had no chaperone, and thus were causing a minor scandal.

  I pushed such thoughts from my mind and concentrated on Aenea's warm lips, the feel of her breath against my skin and her hands loosely around my shoulders. Though the kiss was chaste, my body tingled when she pulled away.

  The next section held ancient clothing. The tall, blank mannequins wore a thin form-fitting fabric that covered everything but their face – their skulls, necks, bodies, limbs, and even their fingers and toes. "Would you wear these?" Aenea asked me, chuckling.

  "It would probably be wonderful for the trapeze, wouldn't it?" I said, though the strange costumes made me nervous. It would be impossible to hide what I was.

  "We'd probably get plenty more seats in the audience. Lord's bum, I'd look naked in it!"

  "I like the sound of that," I said.

  "You're terrible," she said, laughing.

  I smirked and we sauntered through the remains of the clothing section, each silently thinking about the Alder – what they must have been like, why they felt the need to leave if they had not all died, and if so, where they went, and if they would ever return.

  "No clothing for the Chimaera," I said, thinking of the story Mister Illari had told me of the human-animal hybrids.

  "That's because they're just folklore," Aenea said, bending closer to look at the weave of one of the outfits. "It's not like anyone's found any skeletons."

  "You never know," I said.

  The next section held jewelry and sundry household items. The Alder liked simple lines – the jewelry were all bands for the neck, wrists, and fingers. The waist bands for the women seemed impossibly small, too small for Aenea or me. The household items' intended use was at best ambiguous. Aenea and I made progressively outlandish guesses.

  "That must be for trimming nose hair," Aenea said, playing the rube, pointing at a tiny, evil-looking pair of scissors.

  "The Alder would never have anything as base as nose hair. They were pristine and hairless."

  "What about brushing their hair?"

  "As I said, they had no hair."

  "And they never needed to brush their teeth?"

  "Their teeth were impervious to decay."

  "So what's this?" she said, pointing at an implement covered in spikes and brushes.

  "Tickling device?"

  We dissolved into giggles.

  The last section of the museum was the one I had most been looking forward to showing Aenea. It held children's toys and other oddities that did not fit into the other areas. A large glass display held an empty puppet stage but for a small figurine of a female centaur.

  The placard called it the "Chimaera Dance." If coins were put into it, a show would perform. Aenea and I blanched at the price it cost and were about to turn away. An obviously noble young boy of about six or seven visiting with his parents began pointing at the display case and making puppy eyes. The father chuckled and put in the coins. Gold coins.

  Jaunty music, which was definitely not Vestige, began to play. And then the centaur pranced. A crowd gathered and we all watched the little automaton dance. She reared and spun about, waving as if beckoning. More little automatons paraded onto the stage, emerging from their hiding places. A fairy man and woman spun together, gazing into each other's eyes. A man with snakes for hair and scales on his limbs flipped well enough to rival our Kymri tumblers. After another minute the other automatons danced off the stage and the centaur woman made a last twirl and returned to her previous position.