Read Festival of Shadows Online
Authors: Michael La Ronn
Festival of Shadows (13 page)
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CHAPTER 4
Finding Gasket
Theo crested a hill and stared at the sky. The moon was bright, and clouds covered it like fingers.
The town lay at the bottom of a foggy valley. A bell tower rose over the small skyline, and under it, the yellow lights of houses flickered. The town reminded Theo of the old European cities that he had seen in Shawn’s textbooks. Fog shifted here and there, exposing bits of tile roofs and cobblestone streets. Behind the town was a circus ground that was submerged in shadows; he could make out a Ferris wheel, a funhouse, and a small midway.
He stood, staring at all the different buildings, wondering where Gasket could be.
A noise behind him interrupted his thoughts. A wagon approached, drawn by blue carousel ponies that neighed as if possessed. Theo couldn’t see who was inside the wagon.
He rushed to hide in a bush before the wagon passed, but in his hurry he accidentally dropped his shield on the path.
CRACK! The front wheel of the wagon rolled over the shield. It shot up and broke one of the spokes, causing the wagon to slump.
Oops.
“What the blue bazooka was that?”
A clown jumped out of the wagon and looked around angrily. He wore a polka-dotted clown suit with balloon pants, and his huge clown shoes clacked with every step and sounded like they were full of water. He had a red nose, dark, red eyes, and a faded white face with paint peeling at the cheeks. His orange hair looked like cotton candy, and it was partially covered by a triangle cap with a fuzzy cotton ball at the top that bounced when he walked.
His voice was stuffy, as if he had suffered from a cold his whole life.
The clown limped over to the wheel and plucked the wooden shield out.
“Rats.”
Two other clowns jumped out. One was a short, round female in a striped shirt. She wore a long, flowery skirt that flowed under her as she waddled. The other was a male, tall and lanky, with a face that reminded Theo of a bass. His clown suit was one size too small for him, and his wrists and ankles showed. He had bony joints that looked as if they could come unhinged at any moment.
“What’s up, boss?” the female clown asked.
Andersen the Clown gazed around the clearing. Seeing no one, he shrugged and hurled the shield as far as he could. “Stupid dead toys, leaving their parts everywhere. I can’t go anywhere anymore without being impeded by one.”
“Praise Stratus for this impediment,” the tall clown said. “May there be more of them!”
Andersen smacked the tall clown on the head. “You’re supposed to agree with me.”
The tall clown rubbed his head, and the female clown pointed at him and laughed. “Yeah, you’re an idiot, Ludwig. You’re supposed to agree with the boss.”
Andersen smacked her on the head. “I hate suck-ups.”
The female clown’s eyes watered, and she scrunched her face up as if about to cry.
The tall clown laughed at her. “Yeah, no one likes a suck-up, Verona.”
Andersen snarled at Ludwig and raised his hand to smack him again, but decided not to. Instead, he blew a whistle, and a group of wind-up monkeys scurried from the wagon. “Get to work.”
The monkeys produced a spare wheel from the wagon and began to install it.
“Let’s get some practice time in while we wait,” Andersen said. “Fall into formation.”
Ludwig climbed onto Verona’s shoulders and juggled three balls while Verona started tap dancing out of rhythm. They posed with their arms wide and said tiredly: “Ta-da.”
“No, no, no, no!” Andersen said, stomping toward them. “How many times’ve I told you?” He held out his arms wide and put on his biggest smile. “It’s
ta-daaaah
!”
Ludwig and Verona chimed in and tried to imitate Andersen, completely out of tune.
“Taaaaaaa . . .”
“Daaaaaa . . .”
Andersen hung his head. “We need a million more hours of practice if we’re going to be the best circus in the Stratusphere.”
“But don’t forget, boss,” Verona said. “Now that we got that baby dragon, we’re gonna—”
Andersen smacked her on the head again. “I told you: we don’t talk about
that
out in the open. Someone might hear you.”
“Sorry, boss . . .”
“But if you must know,” Andersen said, “
Yeah
, that thing IS going to make us the best. That stupid gypsy caravan thinks they can win with a cute little mascot, but not anymore.”
“He’s ours now.” Ludwig said.
Andersen grinned. “It’s about time you got agreeable. Hyuk hyuk.”
“Stratus is going to reward us for sure when we present it to him—after our circus, of course,” Verona said, closing her eyes with delight.
“Just remember,” Andersen said, grabbing the two clowns by the necks and pulling them close, “you two hold the
keys
to our success.”
The monkeys saluted; the new wheel was installed.
“Let’s get outta here.”
Andersen threw himself into the wagon, and Ludwig and Verona followed.
Theo leaped out of the bush and climbed onto the underside of the wagon as it passed. It was a bumpy ride into town, and his arms were tired when the wagon finally stopped in the town square near a bubbling fountain.
The three clowns hopped down.
“We’ll practice again tomorrow,” Andersen said, tying the horses to a trough. “And don’t forget what I said about that
thing
earlier.”
“To success!” Ludwig said, saluting proudly. “Thank god we’ve got the keys.”
Andersen smacked him on the head.
“Sorry, boss . . .”
Verona and Ludwig walked off in different directions while Andersen started down a dark alley, burping the whole way.
I need a place to hide.
Theo ducked into a church, a wooden building with stained glass windows and a bell tower.
He crouched inside the misty sanctuary. It was small and cozy. In front of the empty pews stood an altar with several lit candles and pictures of deceased toys next to them. He looked at each of the photos and wondered how they died—probably at the hands of Andersen, since he was one of Stratus’s henchmen. Even though the clown looked like a bumbling fool, he was probably very dangerous.
There were no side rooms in the church. Gasket wasn’t there.
Theo entered the bell tower through a small door in the back of the sanctuary and climbed six flights of stairs to the top, where the bell swayed in the breeze.
No Gasket.
Across the plains, he could see the castle. If only he could storm inside! He saw Grant’s face in his mind’s eye and imagined all the terrible things that Stratus might be doing to him. The thoughts were too much. He leaned over the tower railing, scowling and internally kicking himself for not being able to fight Stratus off.
He sulked on the tower for a while before he realized he was wasting time.
On his way down, he found a golden coin on the steps. It was faded and had a royal crest with two carrots crossed as if they were spears; on the other side, the letters MMXV were etched into the gold, as well as the words QUOD TE NUTRIT TE DESTRUIT.
“Interesting coin,” he said, tucking it away, “but I’ve got to find Gasket.”
He exited the church and snuck down several streets until he came to the town jail, a gray building with a cupola and missing bricks. There were bars over the windows and several steps leading up to the door, which was locked with a rusty padlock. Theo activated the Whatsamadoozle, turned it into a blowtorch, and burned the lock off the door.
He entered to find a baby dragon sleeping in a jail cell that could hardly contain him. He was at least three times Theo’s size, with black scales, long whiskers, triangular ears, and a paunch.
“Found you.”
Gasket opened his sad green eyes, and then closed them.
“I’m here to save you.”
Gasket exhaled and nearly blew Theo across the room. He sighed and closed his eyes again.
He doesn’t trust me.
Theo tried to open the cell, but it was locked with a heavy padlock. Next to the padlock, a security panel with a fingerprint scanner and a microphone were bolted to the wall.
They really don’t want him to leave. But where do I find the keys?
He stared outside at the town that lay before him. There was a mansion on a hill, a tavern, the circus grounds at the edge of town, and a bazaar.
Theo went to the:
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The tavern was a gingerbread house with frosted windows. A sign above the door read THE DUELING GLOCKENSPIELS.
Theo climbed on a barrel and looked inside. A bunch of toys were scattered around the wooden tables, laughing as they played board games, told jokes, and passed around sippy cups filled with apple juice. A band was on stage, and two elves were at the forefront playing glockenspiels, each trying to outplay the other as the crowd cheered them on.
In one corner, a group of blue halibut passed around candy cigarettes and coughed up clouds of chalk that made a clown at a nearby table sneeze.
The clown was Ludwig, sitting alone at his table and staring at his thumbs as if he’d had too much to drink. One of the fish said something to him, and he shot to his feet.
Theo cracked open the window so he could hear.
“You hellacious halibut,” Ludwig said, pointing his finger. “No one in this bar has the right to insult me.”
One of the fish looked nervous. “You should stop drinking, buddy.”
Ludwig swiped his sippy cup off the table and downed it. “I love apple juice, and you aren’t going to stop me from drinking it. I dare any of you rapscallions to challenge me in an insult duel. I’ll give my left arm to anyone who can beat me!”
“Who cares about your left arm?”
“I’ll have you know that it’s quite valuable,” Ludwig said, unattaching it from the joint. “It contains the key to something important.”
When no one responded, he slapped one of the halibuts with his arm. “You’re all too scared, eh?”
Theo focused on the arm; its fingers were big—almost the same size as the fingerprint shapes on the security panel at the jail.
I get it now.
He climbed into the tavern through the window. “I’ll challenge you.”
Ludwig whipped around. “Finally.”
“What are the rules?” Theo asked.
Ludwig eyed Theo. “I’ve never seen you before.”
“I’m just passing through—Praise Stratus!—and I couldn’t resist your challenge.”
“You really want to play?”
Theo nodded.
“Very well. Let the game begin!”
One of the halibuts whispered to Theo. “You have to sling the worst insult. The big baby at the front of the bar will be the judge. Good luck.”
The bar went silent, and a giant baby doll in a diaper sitting on the tap clapped his hands and giggled.
Ludwig stepped forward and surveyed Theo. “I’ve been looking at you for the last two minutes, and you’re despicable to my sight, you fur-bedazzled lump bucket!”
“What the heck did you just call me?”
“A fur-bedazzled lump bucket!” Ludwig said, enunciating every syllable.
The bar oohed and aahed.
“That was the worst insult I’ve ever heard.”
One of the halibuts nudged Theo. “Retort. Hit him hard with an insult!”
“You’re a . . .”
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“Fizzle-tiddle—”
“Fizzle-tiddle son of a gypsy, eh?” the halibut asked. “Not good. Baby’s mom is a gypsy.”
The big baby frowned.
Crap.
Ludwig took a swig of apple juice and burped. “If I’m the son of a gypsy, you’re a stumpy gloopy gravy boat!”
Laughter filled the bar, and everyone looked at Theo for a response.
Theo balled his fists. “Well, um . . .”
“You’re a—”