Pantomime (26 page)

  At the train station, Bil the ringmaster turned into Bil the train master. The locomotive was already there, steaming, the sides of the train cars painted in similar scenes to those on our carts. The animals were loaded in the first two cars behind the engine, where the ride was the smoothest, one car for the prey and one for the predators. The animals growled and squawked as they were loaded – the cats howled and Violet even swiped at Tym and was duly reprimanded with a crack of a whip. I did not mind no longer working with the animals.

  Everyone strained to load an entire circus into a train that seemed far too small for a procession of our size. Bags and boxes were stacked floor to ceiling, tied haphazardly with rope. Without the room to sprawl along the beach, I realized just how many things a circus required – animal feed alone needed a substantial amount of space. Costumes, props, the tents, the trapeze, high rope, balance beams, practice mats, the personal wagons, the various equipment that I had no idea what its purpose was, or how everything could hope to fit.

  The sun was bidding us farewell over the horizon by the time we had finished loading everything. We would set out at dawn the next morning. We unloaded enough provisions to have a cold meal, and everyone ate in the last two cars of the trains. Snug on a bench next to Aenea, I found it odd that Arik was not among us. Dinner was a quiet affair.

  Afterwards, I climbed into my cart with some difficulty and tried to sleep. Once we arrived at Cowl, someone else would take over Arik's empty bed. I was not looking forward to the prospect. Arik never commented on the secretive way I dressed and cleaned myself, and I had trusted him not to rifle through my bag. There were not many in this circus that I trusted.

  Far too early the next morning, we crammed into the passenger cars and left Sicion behind. We started at a slow roll, but quickly gathered steam. Excitement and nerves bloomed in my belly as the buildings, mainly old warehouses and ramshackle apartments, began to blur as we sped past.

  Next to us, Madame Limond and Bethany chatted about the places they would go once they reached Imachara. I pretended to be asleep and listened.

  "I'm ever so glad we'll have our next pay by then," Madame said. "All of my dresses are beginning to fray at the seams, but you cannot find decent dresses in Sicion." She must spend the majority of her income on clothing. My notion of money from my old life was hazy, as I rarely had to physically handle it, but even Mother and Father only allotted me one dress every three months due to the cost, though I supposed I was growing quickly.

  "I couldn't give two huffs about dresses – I cannot wait to go to proper pubs and restaurants. And," Bethany said, lowering her voice, "I heard that a new circus and vaudeville has started up in Imachara and means to be based there year-round. Headed by that Alan Nickelby fellow."

  "No," Madame gasped. "Has Bil heard yet?"

  "I'm sure he has, if I know," Beth said.

  "How did you become privy to such information?" Madame asked.

  "The gentleman friend that I will be dining all over Imachara with wrote me a letter. He says I should join, so that I can be nearer to him more often."

  "I hope you don't find this rude, but… this gentleman, he doesn't mind the moustache?"

  Bethany laughed. "No, actually, not at all. He's quite partial to it, really. His wife is a mealy, thin little thing, so pale she looks as though she has no eyebrows or eyelashes. Perhaps that is why he began courting me last year."

  "Mistress Bethany!" Madame Limond exclaimed, happily scandalized.

  Bethany batted her eyes from behind her fan. She was an attractive woman, despite the moustache, in a vivacious, curvy way. She was a lot of woman. It must be strange, though, to dine with a man that was another woman's husband.

  "What do you think Bil will do?" Madame asked.

  Bethany shrugged. I peeked and she flicked her eyes toward Aenea and me and the others who were all studiously pretending they could not hear what the two women were saying. "Bil has plans for new acts, so he says. I suppose we'll all have to work even longer hours to ensure that we are better than this new circus. Or, we jump ship and join the new one." She stroked her moustache thoughtfully.

  "Would you really do that?" Madame asked. "You've been in this circus since it began. You were the first of the freaks! If this circus is trying for nobility and that, I don't think we freaks have a chance. The big circuses, they don't have folk like us. We're not classy enough. Not like those trapeze artists and that." Madame pitched her voice louder. I opened my eyes, stuck my tongue out at her, and pretended to return to sleep. Madame and Bethany chuckled.

  "Hnngh," Tauro said behind me. Aenea and I turned around. He appeared even less human than usual, the early morning light picking up the downy hair of his face, the pits and crevices of his skin. His nostrils flared as he breathed, and his eyes were a deep golden brown. If the circus failed, he would have nowhere to go except the work shelters. But what would happen to all of us? I reached over and clasped Tauro's warm hand. He squeezed it and settled into his seat, closing his eyes with a snuffle. Not for the first time, I wondered how much of the world around him he actually understood.

  The Leopard Lady of Linde and Poussin the human chicken likewise looked nervous. They whispered amongst themselves, casting furtive glances at the others in the cart.

  I turned and settled into my own seat. I chewed my lip. I should probably attempt to join the Imacharan circus. Sicion was risky, as running into Cyril and his friends had proved. And the Shadow. Few knew me in Imachara.

  Aenea settled against my shoulder again, her breath warm against my neck. I rested my lips against the top of her head, our hands intertwined, smelling the warm, almost spicy scent of her hair. I still wasn't quite sure what was going on between Aenea and I. I wanted more, and I feared it.

  As Aenea slept against me, I watched Sicion disappear though the window. In the poorer parts of town, Penglass domes were painted with malformed animals and scrawled rude words. Within a week or so, the paint would flake off and leave the surface pristine. Occasionally the sun would backlight the odd glass, illuminating the train car with a soft, blue glow. If I squinted at the structures, I thought I could see odd shapes lurking within.

  The train topped a rise and the center of Sicion lay below us. The dual spires of the cathedrals of the churches of the Sun and Moon grasped toward the sky, one painted light and the other dark. Far off in the distance, I saw my old apartment building, and even the window of my old room. I felt another pang of homesickness, of regret, and then we passed a bend and my old life was lost to me.

  We were leaving Sicion. Buildings were far between now. To my right was the endless plate of iron-grey sea, and to my left were the brown and grey hills and rocky mountains of the Kithaereon Range. Golden grasses mingled with the twisted, stubborn trees that crouched in bits of soil scattered among the rocks. Few visited the coastline of Ellada for the scenery.

  Drystan grew restless, pacing up and down the train, peering out of the window. He perched on the back of the seats in front of Aenea and me. Aenea cracked open her eyes.

  "What the Styx are you doing? If there's a lurch in the train, you're going to fall on us."

  "Maybe that's what I've a mind to do," he said, winking. "Want to play cards?" He shuffled a pack that appeared out of thin air. I pressed my lips together. Aenea looked at him coolly, and Drystan only batted his eyelashes in response. I felt distinctly caught in the middle.

  We played cards and Drystan summarily beat us every time, aside from an occasional fit of pity. Aenea and I learned to play the relatively simple "beggar my neighbor," and "the oldest hag," and dusted our skills at rummy. Aenea was better than me. She won a hand or two, and I had the feeling they were hard-won and that she really wanted to beat him. And Drystan might have let her.

  I lost each and every game.

  "You're both cheating," I said, churlishly.

  They smirked in response, confirming my suspicions.

  "Teach me how!"

  Eyebrows rose. Drystan reshuffled the pack and taught the basics of how to count cards, how to slip a valuable one up your sleeve if you suspected you would need it the next round, how to distract your opponent. My head spun from trying to take it in.

  "How did you learn this?" I asked Aenea, who hid and produced cards as if by magic.

  "I grew up in the circus," she said by way of answer, shrugging a shoulder.

  "Oh."

  The sun rose higher into the sky as the train followed the coast toward the little village of Cowl. The landscape outside our window changed very little. We grew tired of cards, and I grew tired of losing, though Drystan did not leave and instead squeezed in between us. He fell asleep, his head resting against my shoulder. Aenea rolled her eyes at me as I shifted uncomfortably.

  "Sorry," I said, softly. "I seem to be everyone's pillow today, though I wouldn't have thought myself very comfortable."

  "It's sweet, really, I suppose. He rarely takes such a liking to anyone." But her voice was too light.

  "Mm," I said, neglecting to mention that he may have taken a bit too much of a liking for me. She already knew.

  After a time, Aenea fell asleep against Drystan, and I had the weight of both of them against my left shoulder.

  Usually when I took the train, I would have a book to pass the time, but it had been months since I had such a luxury. I rifled through my pack, trying not to disturb them, and took out the little figurine Mister Illari had given me what felt like years ago, though it had only been a few months. I ran a finger over the smooth contours of the carved stone as I stared out of the window.

  "What's that?" Aenea asked softly.

  I clasped my hands about the statue, startled. "I didn't realize you had awakened." I had the sneaking suspicion that Drystan was awake as well, and merely pretending to snooze.

  She shifted until she was sitting upright. "Come on, let me see."

  I passed it to her, feeling shy and as if she had caught me doing something a little naughty. She ran her fingers over the statue's crude face. "What is it?"

  "It's a statue a friend of mine gave me. It's a Kedi, a mythical creature from um, Byssia, I believe."

  "Hmm," she said, tilting it in her hands.

  "A Kedi is both male and female," I said, choosing my words carefully. "The Byssians believe that it is the only creature that is ever complete."

  Aenea frowned slightly. "So they worshipped them? Bizarre."

  "Not that bizarre," I said, defensive.

  She turned to me. "I suppose it's an interesting idea. Does the Kedi have any magical powers? Like a siren and her song?"

  "Well, according to the man who gave it to me, the Kedi were supposed to be stronger than a human. They never became ill. And they learned very quickly. So yes, they ended up being worshipped by the Byssians as gods, like the other Chimaera."

  "And were they? Gods, I mean?"

  "I don't know. The Byssians worshipped a lot of creatures as gods. I remember from a history lesson that they believed that divine humans were mixed with other animals, like fish to become mermaids and humans with wings. But this one was considered the strongest of all, which is a bit hard to believe. It's still human."

  "We have those stories of Chimaera as well."

  "Yes, we do, but they weren't worshipped, I don't think. More feared." They were viewed as monsters or tricksters, most of which had to be outsmarted or defeated.

  She settled into her seat. "So you think that maybe they were real?"

  "Maybe." I hesitated, and then said, "Every island has myths about them. What if they are still around, but in hiding?" Perhaps there were others like me.

  She giggled. "You mean humans that bundle their wings under coats and hide horns with top hats? That there are people around us that are both male and female? I've seen my fair share of strange folk in the circus, but none like that."

  I sighed, took the figurine from her, and returned it to my pack. It would have been nice if she had been intrigued by the Kedi, considering she was possibly courting one.

 

A circus is far easier to disassemble than erect.

  We would all have to help with the manual labor tomorrow. I would sweep the black slabs of stone to make room for the tents and carnival, and carry box after box.

  We unloaded the carts so that we had a place to sleep and extracted enough food and supplies to cook a hasty meal. It was incredible how tired I felt even though I had been sitting down for most of the day. Aenea still instructed me to stretch and flip a few somersaults along the beach as we waited for the food to cook. She walked along the damp sand on her hands.

  "Have you ever been to Cowl before?" I asked her as she did one last flip and we made our way back to camp. The sand was darker here, almost black. From the beach, the entire village was visible, consisting of several ramshackle buildings gathered around a small, cobbled square that contained a statue of a man with scaled skin and the grim face of a lizard. The buildings were thatched rather than slated, with badly patched cracks in the granite and oilskin for windows. I had not realized that such dilapidated, old-fashioned houses could still be lived in. It was as if I had stepped into the past.

  "We stop through here every season," Aenea explained. "It's a good village to practice our new acts for Imachara. It has a few hundred people, and they're insular folk, difficult to please. If we make them laugh and clap, then we know that Imachara will like it."

  "Why are they difficult to please?" I asked.