Where Dreams Descend

by Janella Angeles

  They made a striking duo as they exited the suite arm in arm, descending the stairs like a dark pair of devils. Any guest ascending instinctively stepped back. The attention made Kallia’s lips curl with satisfaction.

  The chill of the late hour hit instantly as they stepped out of the Prima and onto the street. Night hung over the city in a black velvet curtain offset by the frostbitten lampposts. Even under the trembling lights, she devoured the scene she was a part of, joining the sea of strangers. Kallia could barely contain her giddiness, occasionally lifting up onto the balls of her feet to take in as much as she could. Aaros merely snorted.

  At the faint beat of drums, she dropped back on both feet. The noise persisted, cutting through the night. The rhythmic clang of metal. The sly blow of a trumpet ringing over the beats.

  Music.

  It called to Kallia like a hunger. A memory she’d been missing.

  Her skin rose in bumps that had little to do with the cold. Aaros had set them on the path to the mayor’s mansion, but Kallia turned them toward the music.

  “Taking us back toward the Alastor Fold will make for quite a roundabout way,” Aaros muttered, following. “You sure you want to be late?”

  “Lateness makes for grander entrances,” she stated. “Don’t you hear the music?”

  Years of music day and night gave her a natural sense for wherever it pulsed. The dancer in her craved to match the melody, and meet it.

  As they passed familiar silhouettes of darkened buildings, Kallia realized they were walking toward the Alastor Place, where the sidewalks quieted even as the air did the opposite. Music had a way of raising flames from the shadows, and Kallia breathed in the smoke, following it.

  The trail of sound led to the Conquering Circus tents, no longer still as a snake’s old skin, but alive and sinuous in the night breeze. Lit lanterns were strung across the length of the main tent, hanging over the heads of a raucous gathering of girls. A silver-white bonfire writhed in the center, which seemed to provide more than enough warmth for the musicians handling the instruments bare-handed, and those wearing a variety of odd, flashy coats. Many wore skin-tight body suits that reminded Kallia of her dance leotards. She recognized Juno among them, strutting around in a formfitting outfit that stretched over the wide flare of her hips, sheer enough to showcase all of her glimmering tattoos. She took a sip from a bottle and raised it over her head like a scepter, before doubling over in hysterical laughter.

  Kallia watched the scene, wordless. Transfixed. Laughter mingling with music was a sound that made her ache, conjuring memories of joking in the practice room with Mari, Sanja, even Mistress Verónn when Kallia had failed in teaching her a routine.

  None of it had been real. Not really.

  “What’s the matter, boss?”

  Aaros stared at her in concern. Kallia sighed shakily. “Nothing. It’s cold, is all—”

  “Don’t you have anything better to do than stalk us?”

  Kallia turned at the spiteful voice, finding a dark-skinned girl around her age a few steps away. Her hair gleamed ruby red under the hazy glow of the lamp above, but that wasn’t what struck Kallia first. A light scar snaked across her face, curling down to emphasize her fierce scowl—the face of a starving tiger before it attacked.

  “Just enjoying your music.” Kallia tilted her glance back at the hub of performers. “I haven’t heard any since I got here. Unfortunately, this city has a severe lack in taste.”

  “An outsider, too? Part of the show, then?” the girl demanded brusquely. “Let me guess, you’re the flashy sidepiece for this magician bloke.”

  Most of the ladies Kallia had encountered on the street barely met her gaze. But this one talked like how a snake would bite, and it only made Kallia like her more. “Actually, the bloke is my flashy sidepiece,” she said, enjoying the other girl’s reaction. “Pretty, isn’t he?”

  With a dramatic breath, Aaros threw back his head. “You flatter me.”

  “I’ll be damned.” The girl’s scowl dropped. “I didn’t know female magicians could be allowed in … Rayne turned me away.”

  “Wait, that was you?” Kallia briefly remembered the judges’ account of a girl who’d tried auditioning.

  “Oh, they mentioned me?” She coolly inspected her nails before running them through her red hair. “Wonder what colorful adjectives they used. You must’ve had one spectacular audition if they couldn’t say no.”

  A sliver of envy sharpened her tone, but not the nasty kind. Impressed, almost. At least Kallia thought so. “They didn’t have much choice, and neither did I. It was either I earn my spot, or I was on the streets.”

  A snicker came from Aaros at the mere idea, while the circus performer coolly lifted a shoulder. “These streets aren’t too bad,” she said. “If you ever decide to shed your fancies for a bit, you should come back. The girls would be keen to meet you.”

  Kallia tamped down her rush of excitement. “I’ll take you up on that.” She bobbed her head, ears perked at the sounds of instruments she wasn’t sure she’d ever heard.

  The stranger observed with a knowing tilt of her head. “You’re a performer, I can smell it on you. What sort of shows could a female magician possibly put on before all this?”

  Kallia stilled. The question came as no surprise, but hearing it out loud was like having the skin peeled off her bones. Everything, bared. What other secrets did she wear that others could all too easily see?

  The girl’s face softened suddenly, her brow drawn. “Sorry. I … I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “Wait, what do you know?” Aaros exclaimed, eyes wide.

  Kallia’s pulse thundered even more. There was no way she could’ve met this circus performer, unless she frequented Hellfire House, which was unlikely. She wouldn’t forget hair that red. Still, the girl didn’t seem to recognize Kallia, either.

  “Calm down, pretty boy. It’s nothing you could understand.” The circus performer scowled at him. “Not unless you’re a magician like us trying to make it anywhere.”

  Both girls looked at each other, as though a secret were shared between them. I know, they seemed to say to each other. This stranger knew where Kallia had come from without needing an answer—the shows she was allowed to put on rather than the ones she wanted—just as Kallia knew her. No words needed. No judgment, no pity.

  “Looking forward to seeing you around when you do decide to stop by again.” The girl backed away, a small grin curving her scar over her cheek. “You and your pretty assistant.”

  With a parting nod, Kallia headed back on their original path, Aaros following alongside. Fortunately, there was no way of getting lost with his knowledge of Glorian’s shortcuts, expertly cutting them right across the street with a bemused expression. “Do you always make friends everywhere you go?”

  “Friends, no,” she answered, imagining a glimmer of herself among the Conquering Circus, enjoying a drink and laughing by the fire. Confiding in the red-haired girl everything she could never say to Aaros, even Jack for that matter. It took all of Kallia’s will not to abandon the dinner party altogether so she could turn back. But she had a place to hold. That came first. “Allies, when I can.”

  “Allies? For what, exactly?”

  “Don’t you know the basics of show business? Everything is war on a stage many people want to claim. So yes, I’d like to gather my allies before the bloodshed begins.”

  “Zarose.” It was not the first time Aaros simply stared at her, unsure what sort of world he was entering at her lead. “War, bloodshed, allies.” He shook his head. “Whatever showman’s war you’re anticipating, let’s eat first. To dinner, we finally go.”

  10

  As expected, they all stared. It’s exactly what Kallia wanted, and she couldn’t have picked a better time to arrive at the mayor’s mansion than if she’d planned it.

  “Darling!” Erasmus Rayne rose to his feet like an overeager spectator, flaunting his burnt-orange suit in all its proud glory. �
��I was afraid you’d lost your invitation. You’re just in time for the second course!”

  From the look of Mayor Eilin at the head of the table, he’d probably been hoping she had lost her way altogether—especially when he caught full sight of her. A beastly monster frothing at the mouth could’ve stomped into the room, and his look of horror would’ve been no different.

  The other dinner guests bore similar expressions. Shock, discomfort, a bit of disgust, especially from the scowling young woman sitting beside the mayor. Her golden hair had been spun into a tight bun, and her dress had a sleek champagne hue to its fabric that covered her arms and went all the way up to her neck.

  Kallia’s dress, in contrast, left little to the imagination. She ought to feel more shame, she knew, for such a deliberately un-Glorian choice. Mostly, she was relieved to have gone with a strapless dress. The room’s air had grown uncomfortably warm under the candles lining the mirror-paneled walls, with more than a dozen bodies packed inside. Two more, now.

  “Apologies.” A thrill coursed through Kallia as she tugged Aaros toward the two empty seats at the end of the table. “We were a little caught up in some business of our own.”

  Judge Silu choked on his drink, while some gazes fluttered away. Others peered even closer. As Aaros pulled back her chair, she couldn’t miss his slightly amused smirk.

  “What business could you possibly have already?” The mayor scoffed. “The competition has not even begun.”

  “Mayor Eilin, the competition began the moment you let those flyers run to print and studded your whole city with them.” Kallia relaxed into the thick velvet of her chair. “And besides, I’m not one to rest or toast in celebration of something I haven’t won yet. Surely everyone who’s earned their place has been practicing?”

  “Practicing how, exactly?” a red-haired man a few seats away asked after a long sip of wine. “This is no talent show, sweetheart. Each round revolves around a prompt and props. You can’t practice spontaneity when all you need is a sharp mind.”

  The rest of the party murmured in agreement. Kallia drummed her fingers delicately over the table. “Then I hope for your sake you’ve been doing all you can to keep your mind sharp as a knife. Sweetheart.”

  He’d raised his empty glass for a refill, and lowered it with a glower. “Cheeky.”

  “Settle down, Josev. Kallia. Save your bite for the stage. The crowd will love it.” Erasmus aimed his gaze toward the other end of the table. “Demarco was just about to give us an update on the Patrons of Great. Fascinating work, they’re doing.”

  From the look of Demarco’s grimace, he was clearly not as in awe. He shifted in his seat next to the mayor, sparing a cursory glance across the table. “Yes, I’ve received a letter saying they’re currently investigating a few … odd cases cropping up across Soltair’s eastern side.”

  He spoke delicately, Kallia noted. Sparingly. As though he were used to the way all the guests clung to his words, uninterested in entertaining them a moment more.

  “Anything serious?”

  “Is it that case of labor magicians?” one of the contestants piped up. “It was in the papers last week. A few woke up unable to do a day’s work, while others accomplished the work of ten men.”

  “You read gossip rags, Robere?” Josev chuckled.

  “The Patrons pay attention to the press,” Robere snapped. “Isn’t that right, Demarco?”

  “They only come when they’re called upon, and that alone keeps them busy enough,” said Demarco. “If they followed up on every story to make headlines, they’d be hunting more lies than truths.”

  “So say we make more than a few headlines…” Erasmus suggested with a wily glint in his eyes. “They won’t come banging down our doors?”

  “Don’t get any ideas, Rayne. We’re already pushing it.” The mayor pointedly avoided looking in Kallia’s direction. “This competition is supposed to save us, not scandalize us.”

  “Can’t it do both?” Erasmus laughed into the next sip from his glass, and the others joined. Each threw short glances Kallia’s way as the dinner party resumed, as if looking any longer would incur her wrath. Or her smile.

  It was an effort to remember the names of these men when they all bore the same scowls and proud sneers. Only the places on Soltair they hailed from set them apart. The unpleasant drinker, Josev, went on loudly about the latest crop of magicians he’d taught at Valmonts. Aaros had to remind her that the guests nearest to them went by Farris, Constantin, Robere, and Eduar—all trained labor magicians hailing from the southern region of Deque, bonding over their high hopes to leave their workstations for the stage.

  The Conquering Circus provided that exact opportunity. For any of the outsiders, Kallia realized, not only her.

  But no one could’ve possibly wanted it more. She had nowhere to return to, if she lost. No work to fall back on, should she fail.

  Aaros kept the mood light when the others hardly acknowledged her. A kind effort, but she’d expected the shunning. She was no stranger to it. Some petty alliance had already formed against her, and nobody bothered to hide it.

  Wait for it, she thought, stroking at the handle of her dinner knife. When the competition really started, they’d all be at each other’s throats.

  Just when Kallia thought the night couldn’t get any better, her glass tipped forward with a clatter. Not knocked over by her hands or anyone else’s. Kallia immediately threw her napkin over the tablecloth to absorb the dark stream of wine running toward her.

  “Oh my, it seems you’ve made a bit of a mess,” Mayor Eilin called out, not missing a beat. “Now everyone, I told you this was to be a civil dinner. We’re all good sports here.”

  The room rang with laughter. Seemingly good-natured but reeking of mocking. Aaros’s expression hardened instantly, but Kallia patted his arm as a server came over to help clean the mess. “This little spill? Accidents happen. This can barely be considered a mess by my definition.”

  “You must have a lot of experience.” The blond girl next to the mayor hardly hid her snicker, flicking at the tassels hanging off the candelabra in front of her.

  Kallia only grinned back wider. Not that she expected the only other female in the room to side with her, but against the malicious barricade, it wouldn’t have hurt. Sadly, in this room, Aaros was her only friend.

  A high-pitched scream erupted, followed by a thunk. Every head whipped toward the mayor’s end of the table, where the candelabra had fallen over onto the place setting of the girl who’d startled right off her chair.

  Demarco immediately crouched to help her from the floor, but she only shrieked “Fire!” at the small flame eating away at her abandoned napkin.

  Mayor Eilin jerked back as if it were a snake. The magician to his right, Josev, calmly pushed past him. “Allow me.”

  He could’ve easily smothered the tiny fire with his sleeve, but the magician smoothed his fingers through his hair before holding them out.

  The fire grew, the more seconds ticked. Temple sweating in concentration, Josev whispered something under his breath that sent a stream of water traveling slow as molasses from a nearby glass. It floated above the flame, and with another long burst of words from Josev, extinguished the fire completely.

  Light applause rang across the table as the magician dropped his hands. “Please, please, I’m no hero.”

  Kallia’s mouth fell open at the ridiculousness of it all. That was acquired magic at work?

  “Thank you for that display.” Mayor Eilin cheerily patted Josev on the shoulder. “And for saving my table.”

  Unbelievable.

  The mayor leaned over to set the fallen candelabra back up, giving a hopeless sigh at the girl. “No more playing with the centerpieces, Janette.”

  “I wasn’t, Father.” Pink-cheeked, she returned to her seat with the assistance of Demarco. He shot Kallia a look across the table, his jaw set. Always so serious.

  Unable to help herself, she gave him a delicate
wave of her fingers.

  “Down, girl.” Aaros nudged her. “I know you wanted to light up the party a bit, but that was—”

  “As if I would be so petty. That wasn’t me. Honest.” Kallia sipped at her newly replenished wine, meeting Demarco’s intense gaze with another playful wave. “I’m saving all my claws for show night.”

  * * *

  Twenty-four was a troublemaker.

  Daron knew it the moment she entered the room. Not because of what she wore, but in her look of pleasure upon earning everyone’s shock. She and her partner swapped sly grins throughout the night, thinking nobody would notice. But Daron had an eye for instigators, having been one himself in his show days. He knew exactly what sort of trouble arrogance could bring to the table.

  “Mister Demarco, tell me about your plans after the show.”

  Next to him, Janette was still massaging her wrist, though no harm had come to it. Her coy blue eyes looked up at him from beneath thick lashes. As the mayor’s daughter, she exuded poise and grace, even after a fall from her chair. Not a golden hair out of place, no stains marring the soft silk of her dress.

  Kallia, on the other hand, looked like she’d arrived from an entirely different realm. Hair worn down and wild, red lips, and a bold dress that bordered on irreverent. It was hard to look away. And still, Daron sensed something reserved about her. A wall. He’d known a thing or two about putting up bold fronts, how well they could hide what you wished others not to see.

  “Mister Demarco?” Janette repeated through a sweet smile.

  Daron cleared his throat with an apology. “No plans, really.”

  “You’re not thinking of working with the Patrons?” she asked. “With your aunt at the helm, sounds like something of a family business. It’s all so, so interesting.”

  Her avid curiosity was on brand with Erasmus’s, and it made Daron’s skin itch. Somehow it was the people without magic who were most fascinated by the systems for monitoring those in possession of it. They perked up whenever they heard of the Patrons taking in corrupt magicians who abused their power, or destroying items infused with magic in unnatural ways.