Chapter Eight

THE OTHER BRIDGE

A little way off from the circus, on a black bicycle softly winding its way through the night, the Wild Conductor sighed. No one was more relieved that the circus had stopped than him. He had been pedaling hard all day, and was quite exhausted. He brought the cloudian and its trail of bright umbrellas in to land. But his legs were so shaky with tiredness that, as he tried to climb off the black bicycle, he fell flat on his face instead. Liesel had to smother a giggle while Ferdie tightened his serious scarf and performed a poem:

“Tall man on the bike who flew so high,

Through the dark and starry sky,

Do not despair, do not lose heart,

Just have a bite of apple tart.”

And, as if by magic, Ferdie held out a squashed bit of pie crust that had been in his pocket for many months. The Wild Conductor managed a weary smile.

The little bunch gazed around at their surroundings and saw they were in the middle of rolling fields. In the distance shone the gentle lights of a sleepy village. Tomorrow, the village would awaken to the wonderful sight of a floating circus. But tonight, they slept on, unaware of the magic unfolding above them.

The Wild Conductor bade each of the children good night and curled up like a very big, ungainly cat and started snoring.

Nate took pity on the tall man’s fragile heart and carefully arranged the three umbrellas over him like a toadstool-shaped tent. Then he turned to his two friends. “Let’s get some supper,” he said with a stretch. “Then we’ll see if there’s another way into the circus.”

Liesel gave a bright-eyed blink. “What do you mean?”

Nate shrugged and gave Smoke a pat. “I’m not exactly sure, but last time I was there, Smoke found a bridge that was different from all the others. It felt as if it were made from cobwebs and it seemed to dip down instead of up and over.”

Liesel’s eyes grew wide. “Where do you think it leads?” she wondered.

“Not sure,” answered Nate, “but if Star really is still in the circus, then maybe there’s more to the place than we can see.”

Ferdie closed his eyes, imagining what Nate might mean. “Like other tents that are hidden?” he asked. Nate nodded.

Liesel’s toes twitched with excitement. “If I was trying to hide a tent, I’d pitch it beneath the circus, in the middle of all the white mist—that way no one would notice it.” And before anyone could stop her, she leaped aboard the cloudian, wobbling wildly as she tried to balance its weight. “Come on, let’s fly beneath the circus and see what’s going on.”

All at once, all thoughts of food were forgotten, because if there is ever a choice between supper or an adventure aboard a flying bike, pedaled by a mouse-loving girl, adventure will always win. Besides, Ferdie’s pockets turned out to be stuffed with other squashed-but-edible things that didn’t taste too awful. He, Nate, and Smoke crowded onto the back of the bike and, as a lullaby of sweetly pattering rain splashed upon the bright umbrella, the cloudian rose splendidly into the air.

The Wild Conductor slept on, hardly hearing the lullaby or even wondering what the pleasant sound might be. For his dreams were filled with only one person: a girl with a heart of fire, who shined as bright as a star.

In his dream, he wandered through a world of swirling white, a world that felt empty of color and magic. It was a dream he often had, both brilliant and terrifying at once. Brilliant because he got to see the face of his true love once again, but terrifying because she was no longer shining. In desperation, the Wild Conductor played every song he knew but, alas, his music could never touch Star, and she turned sadly away, a trail of ash spilling behind her where once there were sparks.