Show of Wonders

by Cela Day

  Papa clapped, loud and long.

  “Bravo!” he cried, still clapping. “Well done! Amazing footwork, wonderful juggling—and the bit with the sack! How do you fit into it with all those props—especially that mountain? It can’t be trap doors here outside—is it goose grease?”

  “Sir,” Eld said, “with all due respect: if you knew everything about everything, where would the magic be?”

  Papa looked surprised; a moment later he nodded.

  “Of course,” he said. “Secrets of the trade. Well then: it’s my great honor to welcome you to the Show of Wonders!”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Eld. “And now, if perhaps we might inquire as to that other—ah—item you mentioned earlier—”

  He broke off and bowed again, as did his six brothers.

  “Eh?” Papa looked puzzled.

  At that moment Glint’s stomach growled, a loud and reverberating rumble.

  “Ah, yes!” Papa clapped his hands. “Right this way to the chow tent! It’s high time for breakfast!”

  “You were right, Eld,” Bianca heard Digger say as the dwarves walked past. “I like the way he thinks.”

  “YOU HIRED what?”

  Anasophia’s voice, usually low and well-modulated, rose to a near-shriek.

  Bianca looked up from her plate in surprise. She’d never seen Anasophia upset before.

  They were eating supper in their private salon after the evening show. Lady was in her car, riding alone for the second night since Steward left. Bianca had intended to ask Papa to reconsider allowing her to ride with Lady, but she hadn’t had an opportunity to speak with him alone all day. Now that they were together for supper, she hadn’t been able to get the words out of her mouth before he’d started describing Eld and his brothers to Anasophia.

  “Seven dwarves, my dear. Brothers. Some of the best talent I’ve seen in many seasons.” Papa reached out to pat his wife’s hand reassuringly, but she yanked it away.

  “What do you mean, ‘best talent’? How can you possibly compare a horde of dirty, undergrown little ne’er-do-wells with my—”

  “My dear,” Papa said patiently, “I didn’t intend to compare their act with yours. ‘Some of the best’ is not the same as the best. No one can compare with you. You must know that by now.”

  “I do know it, but I cannot abide dwarves. You must send them away at once!”

  “My dear,” Papa said, still patient, “I can’t break my word. I’ve hired them, and they are now part of the Show of Wonders. That was my decision, and it must stand. You wouldn’t even be aware of them if I hadn’t mentioned them. You don’t take part in the Grand Parade, and their act comes early in the show, long before yours. You know you don’t ever come to the big top until just before your performance.”

  Anasophia’s mouth thinned, but she said nothing more. Bianca, who’d fixed her eyes on her plate and pretended to be invisible while the adults talked, glanced up at her stepmother through her eyelashes.

  The look in her stepmother’s pale blue eyes! For the first time Bianca realized how cold they were, like ice.

  And as she looked, she also thought she saw something dark in them.

  Something—dangerous?

  But how could that be?

  Bianca didn’t spend much time with her stepmother. Anasophia slept most of the day, for she never performed in the matinee—only at night.

  But Bianca had never once thought her stepmother might be anything other than the pleasant woman she’d seemed to be in the few months they’d known her. And of course she was beautiful, and so brave as she performed each night, walking the wire high above everyone else under the big top.

  And yet—

  Bianca stole another glance at her stepmother, but whatever she’d seen—or thought she’d seen—in those icy eyes was gone.

  “May I be excused, Papa?” Bianca asked. She hadn’t finished her meal, but she’d lost her appetite.

  “Of course, my dear. Good night.”

  Bianca thought his voice was unusually tired. It hurt her heart to hear him sound like that. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

  “Good night,” she murmured as she passed Anasophia.

  Her stepmother made no answer.

  Chapter Four

  IT WAS UNUSUALLY HOT and muggy in the menagerie the next day. Despite the sticky weather people flocked to meet Lady until the band began playing the gathering tune that signaled the Grand Parade was about to begin, drawing everyone to the big top.

  Bianca unhooked Lady’s halter rope from the stake. She knew Lady didn’t need a rope or stake because she answered to Bianca’s voice, but Mickey still wanted them, and Lady didn’t seem to object.

  Bianca stroked Lady’s trunk and whispered, “Time for a bit of quiet now, girl.”

  As if in answer, Lady’s trunk waved away. When it returned it slid underneath Bianca and, much to her surprise, lifted her up onto Lady’s head.

  “Lady, what are you doing?” Bianca gasped.

  Lady moved forward, lifting one careful foot and then the next. As always, the slow, fluid movement of her massive shoulders made Bianca feel as though she were sailing on the surface of deep waters.

  For one moment Bianca thought Lady simply wanted to take a walk outside where it was cooler. But no—she turned toward the big top entrance.

  “Lady! We can’t go in there!”

  For the first time in their companionship Lady ignored Bianca’s command. Bianca tugged on the halter, but Lady didn’t break her stride.

  So into the big top they went, entering the ring at the very end of the Grand Parade. Bianca saw performers and animals from the menagerie making their way around the circle: the Flying Mancini Brothers, Stripes and Checks the zebras, Daphne with her pure white horses trotting proudly alongside her.

  And Eld, marching alone with his bulging sack on his back.

  At the sight of Lady the crowd gasped, then burst into spontaneous applause.

  Papa spun around to see the cause of the commotion. His mouth dropped open as Lady moved by with all the grace and majesty of a tall ship approaching its harbor. Bianca saw his lips move, but if he was shouting anything it was lost in the band’s music.

  Besides, there was nothing she could do. Lady had decided to march in the Grand Parade, and marching they were.

  As Bianca recovered from her own surprise she became aware that people in the crowd were waving at them. At first she waved back shyly, but when a renewed cheer went up from the audience she waved harder, inviting them to enjoy Lady with her. People stood on their seats, throwing peanuts and popcorn. Lady’s trunk found the treats in the straw on the track, plucking them up and flipping them into her mouth without even breaking her stride.

  Finally they reached the entrance again. Ears flapping, with one last wave of her trunk, Lady bade farewell to her adoring fans and strolled out of the big top.

  Mickey met them, slowly clapping his hands.

  “Hey Princess! I didn’t know you told your dad you could ride Lady!”

  “I didn’t,” Bianca said, as Lady gently set her on the ground.

  “Well,” Mickey grinned, “I guess he knows now.”

  “WHAT DO YOU SEE?”

  The hag’s eyes opened. She glared at Anasophia.

  “Why should I tell you? You’ll only abuse me, although I speak nothing but truth.”

  “I’ll be the judge of what is and is not truth. Do as I command!”

  The hag’s eyes closed. In a low, even voice she said: “Your rival grows in power, but she does not know—”

  “She? You see my rival is a woman?”

  The hag’s eyes opened. “Not yet.”

  “Not yet? Do you mean you do not see, or—no! You cannot mean my rival is a girl?”

  The corners of the hag’s withered mouth curled.

  “Never! No half-formed chit could compare to me! To my beauty!”

  “You mean my beauty,” the hag breathed.


  But Anasophia was too upset to hear.

  “Tell me who she is,” she demanded.

  The hag’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”

  “What is that to you? Answer my question!”

  A shudder passed through the hag. For one moment she said nothing, but then her lips flew apart as if forced open by some power she could not control. “It is your husband’s child. Your step-daughter.”

  “Bianca?” Anasophia’s eyes widened; then she burst into scornful laughter. “She is nothing. Impossible!”

  “Very well.” The hag closed her eyes. “It is impossible. And now that I have answered your questions, perhaps you will leave me in peace.”

  Anasophia grew still, eyes fixed on her prisoner. “You are serious.”

  The hag made no answer.

  “You are serious! You see her, growing on the horizon!”

  Still, the hag said nothing.

  “Well then.” Anasophia fingered the blanket on her lap. “If the girl truly is a threat to me, there’s only one thing to be done.”

  She called over her shoulder. “Hunter!”

  At this, the hag opened her eyes again. She stretched out one wrinkled hand, fingers pressing against the inside of the glass.

  “Cousin, if you will be advised by me—”

  “I’ve never, in all my life, sought to be advised by you,” Anasophia hissed as she tossed the blanket over the mirror.

  The man called Hunter entered the tent. Dark-haired, heavy-shouldered, and dressed in roustabout’s clothes, he stood before her, head bowed.

  “I’ve found my enemy,” Anasophia said. “You must ensure this threat is ended.”

  Hunter didn’t look at her. “As you wish, my lady.”

  “And it must be done immediately. Before the morrow. I cannot abide her presence even one more day!”

  At this Hunter did look up, a frown creasing his haggard features. “You speak of a woman, my lady?”

  In a low voice she told him what the hag had seen.

  Hunter stared at her. His right hand moved, the barest hint of a half-formed gesture of supplication.

  Seeing this, Anasophia hissed through her teeth.

  “Don’t tell me that after all you’ve done you think to sketch a character of soft-heartedness.”

  He shook his head, then added: “No, my lady. But—”

  “Stop! Not one more word!”

  Fists clenched white, she rose from her chair. He stood taller, yet appeared to cower before her.

  “If living in this world has stolen your manhood, Hunter, tell me now and I’ll release you from my service. Once and for all.”

  Her fingers touched the belt at her waist where the pouch rested that Hunter knew contained a vial of poison she’d carefully crafted before they’d fled their own world.

  A shiver passed through him. “No, my lady.”

  Her eyes remained fixed on his face one more moment, as if taking the measure of his soul. He looked back at her as a man stares at a coiled snake before it strikes.

  Finally she relaxed her gaze and sank into her chair.

  He released the breath he’d been holding and fixed his eyes safely on the ground at her feet.

  “Well then. As my faithful servant, you know what I mean for you to do. In our own world I’d tell you to take her into the forest, cut out her heart and bring it to me! But here, there’s no telling what might happen. Her fool of a father fawns over us too closely. No, in this world you must find some other way.”

  Her face grew thoughtful, reflective. “Something that looks like an accident. If she were to fall from the train—”

  “You mean redlight her, my lady?”

  “I don’t know this term.”

  “When the engineer sees a red light the train slows to a stop, so there is little danger to anyone who leaves the train. But if a ringmaster is vengeful, he might have someone he bears a grudge against thrown from the moving train, far from any sign of a red light.”

  “So the term can be ironic.”

  “Exactly, my lady.” He licked his lips. “But the men say your husband has never done this to anyone.”

  Anasophia’s lips twitched, the ghost of a sneer. “Of course not. He is a good man.”

  The words sounded like a curse. She clapped her hands together, a sharp, staccato note.

  “So. You know what you must do. See to it. I never want to see her simpering face again.”

  He turned to go.

  “Hunter—”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  “Look at me.”

  The big man turned back; slowly and reluctantly he raised his eyes to meet her gaze. Only then did she add:

  “Do not disappoint me in this.”

  He swallowed, hard, before he responded.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “You may go.”

  He turned again and fumbled his way from the tent.

  Chapter Five

  “BIANCA? ANASOPHIA AND I are dining with the Mancini brothers tonight, but there’s bread and—what, in bed already?”

  Papa bent to receive Bianca’s good-night kiss.

  “It’s been a long day, Papa.”

  “Then sleep well, my dear. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Papa shut Bianca’s compartment door. Bianca waited until she heard the door at the end of the car close, which meant Papa and Anasophia had gone into the next car on the train, where the Mancinis lived.

  Then she climbed out of her bunk and put her riding clothes back on.

  Papa had been understandably surprised by Lady’s appearance in the matinee’s Grand Parade earlier that day. Still, after a long discussion with Mickey, he’d allowed Lady and Bianca to march in the evening show as well.

  But Bianca thought asking Papa if she could sleep in Lady’s car that night might be more than he could cope with in one day. So she’d decided to simply do it, for she couldn’t bear the thought of Lady spending another night alone.

  Soon Bianca was jogging alongside the tracks, dodging roustabouts loading the last equipment by lamplight, for as the season drew to a close darkness came earlier. The stockcars were already loaded, their doors shut and barred.

  Bianca was twenty feet from Lady’s car when a rough hand grabbed her shoulder. Something soft that smelled of a strange strong odor clamped over her mouth. Unable to scream, she struggled to free herself from the iron-band arms encircling her. She twisted around and for one brief instant saw the face of the man called Hunter. Bianca knew he worked as a roustabout and also served as Anasophia’s bodyguard when she performed.

  What’s he doing? Is he insane?

  The cloth tightened against her nose and she inhaled more of the strange smell. She knew she shouldn’t but it was too late. She couldn’t feel her arms and legs, but she wasn’t sure it mattered anymore. She needed to sit down, quickly, before she fell asleep—

  The girl went limp in Hunter’s arms. He stuffed the cloth in his pocket and lifted her. In the dim light the lines of her face were soft and rounded, and she breathed deeply as a babe in his arms.

  It was a disturbing thought, and he tried to push it away. He couldn’t imagine being the one who bloodied and bruised that lovely, innocent face.

  Innocent. That was what he feared most. In the long years he’d served the witch he’d done many violent things. But never something like this. Always before, the witch’s enemies had wielded power.

  But even though all the men on the show called her Princess, this young girl wielded nothing.

  How can I throw her from the train?

  And yet if he failed—

  He shuddered, remembering the look in the witch’s eyes as her long-nailed hand touched the poison pouch at her waist.

  Besides, he was certain he’d seen the shock of recognition when the girl’s eyes met his. A great mistake to allow her to see him; he must be losing his touch.

  He shifted the Princess into the crook of his left arm and reached into the breast pocket of
his jacket for the flask. With an expert motion he twisted off the cap, held the flask to his lips, and took a swig of the throat-burning liquid inside. He’d never been one for drink in his own world, but since coming to this one he’d found it helped deaden his thoughts. Deaden his pain.

  It also, on occasion, brought inspiration.

  What if he simply left the Princess under a tree near the tracks? But no, someone would find her—or, once she woke, she’d walk to the station and they’d telegraph ahead to the next stop. And the ringmaster would wait, of course—he wouldn’t care if the circus missed any number of performances when he discovered his only child had been left behind.

  And then the girl would tell her father what he’d done.

  No; there had to be something else. . .

  The car in which the big cats rode was near Lady’s. Its door was already shut and barred on the outside, which meant no one was riding in the car with the cats to the next stop.

  Like clouds gathering on the horizon, an idea began forming in Hunter’s mind. He staggered toward the big cats’ car and, with the Princess balanced against his shoulder, pushed the bar back from the door, slid it open, heaved the Princess into the car, and then hoisted himself up after her.

  He remained crouched on the floor, not wanting to move until he got his bearings. He could hear the big cats’ light shallow breathing; he felt their yellow-green eyes on him in the dark.

  There was the lion’s cage, on the far side of the car. The lion’s tawny mane glinted in the moonlight slanting through the open roof-vent overhead.

  Hunter stared at the lion; the lion stared at Hunter.

  And as he met that strange yellow gaze, a new thought entered Hunter’s mind. For the first time in his life, it seemed to him that something greater than himself—or the witch—might rule his fate.

  The fate of these cats.

  The fate of the Princess.

  Suddenly, he knew he must leave her to that fate.

  Hunter picked up the Princess and laid her carefully on the floor in the center of the car, just beneath the roof-vent.