CHAPTER FIVE

The Circus

In the spring of her twenty-fourth season, the amethyst-eyed child learned how to escape Rose Herm’s grounds. Hitherto she had started to bolt the nursery on a daily basis, spending her time in the company of Owaine or prowling the vast, ornamented grounds of the mansion, climbing trees and playing solitary games in the punishing heat. Nan kept the child’s escapes a secret from the rest of the household, since her pride could not stand the tarnish of failure. Her place among the house servants was high; they feared her for her appearance and her reputation. They respected her for keeping that freakish being in check, and she enjoyed her elevated rank.

But Nan had run out of punishments for the child. Smacking her no longer worked and neither did shouting or cursing. The child’s silver skin was riddled with deep, plum bruises from pinches and punches and kicks. Nan had told her that she was the scum of the realm so many times that it no longer had any effect. The child would stand and take it all with the most infuriating blank expression, and then the next day she would find some way of escaping again. She climbed out of windows, created distractions and slipped through the door, stole keys, and hid. Nan was beginning to crack.

The child took pains to avoid everyone except Owaine when she wandered about the grounds. She was old enough to realize that her appearance caused others shock and horror, so she snuck around like a pale shadow. For a while, her favorite pastime was to find a way into the drawing room and crouch under an armchair, watching the visitors Ma Dane had over for tea. This was how she learned words other than “wretch,” “monster,” and “demon.”

She would crouch until her whole body was numb with inertia and stare at the exotic creatures that inhabited that room. They flew in with puffs of potent scent that clogged the warm air and made her drowsy. Their olive décolletages were powdered with sweet talcum like delicate frosting and their swollen, extravagant dresses pooled in folds about their slippered feet. They would enter the room stiff and cool and slowly wilt in the sticky Sago day. The child, too, would be damp with sweat by evening and then she would creep out as she had crept in, find a fountain in the grounds, and wallow in its soothing chill before Nan eventually found her and dragged her back inside.

It was in the drawing room that the child heard about the circus and decided to escape Rose Herm’s grounds for the first time. The Coo-se-Nutoes were visiting as they often did, before the Shap-se-George and after the Crit-se-Prom, and the child was squatting in her place under the armchair beside the cavernous fireplace that was never lit. This was the best spot because no one ever sat in the creaky antique chair and it gave a full view of the visitors and Ma Dane.

The child had always known instinctively who the round, bloated woman was. Though she had seen her but a few times, Ma Dane’s small brown eyes, thin lips, and dark hair were familiar. The child watched her with interest, but mostly she liked to watch the ladies and particularly the Coo-se-Nutoes, who were the loveliest of all.

Ma Usa Coo-se-Nutoes was almost the same age as Ma Dane and as tiny as the latter was large. Ma Usa had two beautiful daughters, Peony and Bow, with unusual black hair, soft features, and graceful airs. Often, if she could not escape the nursery, the child would stalk about the dank room, trying to imitate their gliding walk.

Listening to their chatter and gossip over syrupy tea and sweetmeats, the child would hear about dances and fashions and marriages. On this particular humid morning, she learned of the circus.

“You must have heard of it,” said Ma Usa. “Did you not feel the spells? They caused havoc in our kitchens.”

Ma Dane sipped from her tea and the bone china looked strange in her thick fingers. “We have already had the usual ones for this time of year,” she replied.

“But that is just it!” burst out Peony. “The usual circuses have not come this year, they have been put off by—”

Ma Usa cleared her throat and Peony quieted.

“The rouge spells you have felt are all from one circus,” explained Ma Usa. “The Beautiful Spectacular has created havoc on its own. They say it is a phenomenon: magic that has never been seen before.”

Ma Dane shifted in her seat. “I had not heard of this,” she said. “And I assumed that few circuses would try crossing the borders in the current political climate. They are a rather tired tradition, I think.”

“But the circuses are part of our history!” squeaked Bow.

“They are an import from The Neighbor,” replied Ma Dane coolly. “And especially dangerous considering the guerrilla warfare surfacing in their capital.”

“You cannot think that is serious?” said Ma Usa, setting down her cup. “It is a group of anti-Magical extremists and The Neighbor has seen and squashed hundreds before.”

“Sago cannot risk appearing to sympathize with Magical immigrants, whatever happens in The Neighbor.”

“Then, you do think it serious?”

“I dined with a few State members three days past and they certainly are considering the matter of great importance. If I had known of The Beautiful Spectacular, I would have said something.”

“But the Houses have welcomed circuses every summer for thousands of seasons!” cried Peony. “It is just a glorious show!”

Ma Dane turned her bulk on the girl. “We Houses do not welcome political turmoil. We have more sense than that.” Her eyes pointed to the golden amulet hung proudly on the opposite wall.

“But—” began Bow.

“In fact, the State is so set against breaking peace with The Neighbor that I doubt they will look kindly upon magically sympathetic leaders that intend to appeal in the forthcoming poll. . . .”

All three visitors blushed and shuffled their slippers.

“Ma Dane, you know we are always very grateful for the support you have given my husband over the years.”

“Good. I’m sure Pa Coo-se-Nutoes would not want to support the . . . the . . .”

“The Beautiful Spectacular,” muttered Peony.

“Yes. I’m sure he would not want to support something that endangered his position. In fact, I shall ask to visit it with him today to be sure. The whole thing seems very suspect to me. We do not want a repeat of the Red Wars.”

Ma Usa flinched.

“Has it—is it that bad?”

“It’s critical. The Neighbor has played a dangerous game,” Ma Dane spat the words. “It has gone too far with its University of Magic and military force. The backlash was inevitable.”

A silence ensued in which Ma Dane slurped her tea.

“Did you see that new House of Shell girl at the Crit-se-Prom ball?”

With visible effort, Ma Usa replied, “Why yes, it was shocking—her hem was practically above her ankles.”

Later, with her cheek shoved against the wooden floorboards of the nursery, the child could not forget what she had heard of the circus. She had disregarded most of the chat, not understanding it, but the circus with the magnetic ring of The Beautiful Spectacular had stayed foremost in her mind.

“Don’t twitch!” screeched Nan, pushing her heel further into the child’s back as she lay face down. “Nasty, vile creature!”

The child had been caught escaping the drawing room and was now receiving her punishment. Rather than mull over her blatant disregard for rules, as she had been instructed, the child was musing the possibility of running off again this very afternoon. She had been contemplating escaping the grounds of Rose Herm for a while, having grown bored of its constraints. She desired fresh lands to explore and had already plotted her escape: a large zouba tree that stood beside a pond and leaned toward the high iron fence. She had just been waiting for a reason to flee.

There was a knock at the door and Nan hissed irritably.

“Come in, then!”

The maid fumbled with the lock and as she swung the door open Nan released the child and tried to look as though she had been giving a school lesson.

“ . . . that is how Pervorocco won the Red Wars and restored order after years of savage bloodshed. The Neighbor then repaired its State and a lenient attitude was taken toward Magics thereafter . . .”

The maid was trembling so much that the tea set rattled as she placed it on a table. The child had not seen this maid before and suspected she was new. The new house staff—fed with gruesome tales of a silver, wild being—were always the most afraid of her.

“This tea is cold!”

The maid wrung her hands on her apron and tried not to look at the child.

“But I—but I just boiled it, Nan. It’s scalding!”

“You must have dawdled on the stairs. Get away and don’t make the same mistake in the future.”

The maid scurried from the room so hastily that she forgot to lock the door.

“Don’t you even think of touching that food! You will miss dinner again for your wickedness.”

While Nan fell upon the meal and began tearing into the bread and butter, the child crept slowly past her.

“If you continue to disobey me, then you will starve!”

Nan turned and in that moment, the child ran for the door. Nan was well past middle age and too slow to catch her. As the child dashed away, she was followed by an agonized howl.

Switching between the rambling, grand corridors of the main house and the twisting passages of the servants’ quarters, the child expertly snaked her way to the gardens, stopping only to catch her breath before she continued. With the sun beating upon her back, she climbed the zouba tree and slithered down its long vines to the ground on the other side. There she paused, the thrill of the chase beginning to wane.

She was standing on a dusty track between two grand houses. She could see the glistening roof of Rose Herm on her right over the high iron fence and a vulgar mansion on her left, its second story peeking over another iron fence. Ahead was a flat expanse of sapphire and she headed toward it slowly, dragging her feet a little in the dust. With freedom finally in her grasp, she did not know what to do first.

The gentle crash of waves grew louder and she found herself standing on a wide, paved road before the sea. The road was deserted and the air was soft and still. The horizon rippled with heat and each rumple in the water winked silver as it bobbed in the distance. Having been used to the ornamented ponds and delicate fountains of Rose Herm, this expanse of blue amazed her. The child had a sudden urge to touch it.

Crossing the road, she climbed down a sandy slope punctured with craggy boulders and stood at the water’s edge. There she watched it for a moment, lapping the ground with foaming lips that sucked the shore. In the distance she could see the shadows of boats and farther along the coast were the famous docks of Sago.

Checking that she was still alone, she pulled off her buckled shoes and rolled up the legs of her trousers. Then, tentatively, she dipped her feet into the balmy water. She giggled as it swelled about her silver ankles and then bent and splashed it with her hands. Discovering that this was fun, she splashed it some more, laughing louder. The droplets glittered in the fierce sunshine and soaked the edges of her shirt.

Suddenly, a carriage thundered past on the road above, startling the child so that she almost toppled into the water. As the hoof beats died away, she remembered the circus. Pulling her shoes back on, she climbed the slope to the road and hurried onward.

As she followed the straight boulevard, the buildings began to inch closer together, their size diminishing and their facades crumbling. The road narrowed and the azure stretch of sea was lost behind a shamble of overbearing houses. An ominous hum replaced the gentle surge of the waves and the paving slabs beneath her shoes became cracked and hard.

At first she walked alone, padding softly on the burning road, but people soon began to appear. They leaned out of windows, shaking out carpets, lay snoring on front steps, and rushed past in rickety carts that creaked and sprayed the air with thick dust. She shrank from them, and suddenly she longed for the grounds of Rose Herm and their safe enclosure. She wanted the smell of hot earth and the squawk of seagulls and the high iron fences to box her in. The circus forgotten, she was filled with the desperate urge to turn back, and she made the mistake of stopping.

A man towing a cart full of soft fruit stumbled into the back of her, cursing loudly and pushing her into the gutter.

“Move over!” he shouted.

She clambered to her feet, her senses overwhelmed with the drench of sweat, animals, and filth.

Catching sight of her, the man yelped.

“Cursed thing! Get away with you, under-realm monster!”

People began to stare. Before, she had passed unnoticed in the blank crowds that hustled and bustled through the tight roads, but now she felt eyes boring into her and widening in disgust and astonishment. All she could see were crumbling houses, hoards of people, and a haze of smut that seemed to float through the clammy air.

“There’s no begging on this road!” a voice shouted. “Go to the squares!”

“What is it?”

“Must be from the circus . . .”

“The circus is that way!”

This last remark came from a stout man who stood proudly before a collapsing tumble of bricks and holes. He jerked his thumb in the direction of a road to his left and the child ran.

Roads turned to uneven streets, which became alleyways, growing ever narrower and busier. She found that the faster she ran, the less notice people took of her, and so she sprinted. Everyone was pushing and shoving and rushing, and as she became one of them they left her alone. But she could not keep it up for long; exhausted, she knew that she must stop if only to lessen the excruciating burn of her chest. Her legs began to slow and she paused, clinging to a dirty brick wall.

There were people everywhere—even more than before, although she could scarcely believe that possible. Monstrous constructions of patched brick, wood, and cardboard loomed about her, riddled with tears and soaked with muck. The paving stones of the road had been removed to build huts that bodies huddled in, turning the ground to a foul bog that swallowed feet. The air reeked of hot urine and excrement, and was filled with shouts, screams, and wails. It pressed against her, forcing her down into the churned grime of the rotting ground and she wished that she had not come.

“What’s this?”

She jumped and turned to see a family of six kneeling in a circle around a bowl of black water. They watched her with hungry eyes.

Something darted to her side and she saw a child not much older than herself. It was difficult to know whether it was a boy or a girl with the dirt smeared across its face. There were layers of crud dried on its cheeks, hands, and lips that split and flaked off as it moved. She stared at it for a moment, wondering what it wanted from her. Its eyes were rolled skywards and it had a broken sack slung over its shoulder. It pushed its open hand toward her, a grunt issuing from its scabbed lips.

“What . . . what do you want?” she whispered.

The creature stank and lice crawled on its face. It pushed its hands against her harder, its face pleading.

“Spare some sticks!”

A mottled face loomed from the flow of bodies surging down the street and a hunched figure sidled up to her, limbs bent and crooked.

“Spare some sticks!”

The girl cowered against the brick wall, wishing that she had never left the confines of Rose Herm. Bile bit the back of her throat and her legs trembled.

“Spare some sticks! The circus can spare some sticks!”

A toothless, gaunt face bore into hers and a second, slimy hand reached out to her.

“No!” she gasped.

Pushing past them, she plunged back into the crowd and dodged men with greasy omelets and women selling rags. The streets curled left and right and the air grew hotter and the crowds increased. Unable to go on, she paused in a heaving square, bumped and knocked by the flow of bodies rushing past her.

“Spare some sticks!”

They had followed her and multiplied on the journey. A buzz of beggars surrounded her like flies—children and adults and things in between. Hands grasped at her and ragged nails scratched her silvery skin.

“Spare some sticks!”

“My children die for lack of food!”

“Sticks from the circus!”

Terrified tears coursed down the child’s face. “I have nothing!” she cried. “No, I have nothing!”

But they would not stop. They tugged at her shirt and pulled at her trousers, trying to pat her pockets for sticks. She never thought that she would ever wish herself back in the nursery with Nan, but just then she would face seasons of abuse to be free of them.

“Get back!” a voice boomed.

With reluctant scratching and scurrying, the beggars moved aside.

A shadow fell over the child and she looked up from where she cowered in a boggy puddle of grime to see a bizarre creature. Its eyes were slanted and its nose pointed like that of the head gardener’s dog, but it had the body of a human and a bushy copper tail.

“The circus has been looking for you,” it said.

The child blinked at it, unsure. All around them, people stopped to watch and the beggars lingered, still hoping for sticks.

The creature offered her a clawed hand.

“Come, little beauty,” it whispered.

It wore a loose, gold tunic of silk and its limbs were abnormally long and lithe.

The child hesitated.

“Spare some sticks!” one beggar started up, then suddenly they were all chattering once more, their hands grasping.

“Spare some sticks!”

“Spare sticks from the circus!”

The creature took a bundle of lead sticks from its pocket and scattered them on the ground. All at once the beggars went grabbing for them, throwing others aside in their haste. While they were distracted, the child hurriedly took the hand of the creature and it picked her up, cradling her in its arms.

“Gold stick?” a beggar cried as they began to move away. “One gold stick?”

“Lead sticks are all I can spare.”

The child buried her head into the creature’s chest and did not look up again until they had arrived at the circus.