“Do you know where we are going?” Trying not to let my lip curl at the depressing scenery moving by outside.
“Ungh,” Igor said, or something like that.
“We are going to Lortby, right? To the Rashers and Quills Porcuswine Farm there.”
After another long period of waiting, this simple query elicited a reluctant and monosyllabic sound of agreement. Eventually something that passed for speech followed.
“Get dirt, pay more.”
I suppose that this could be translated as, “If you allow an animal to track filth into my vehicle of any kind, the already preposterously high fee will be even higher.” I grunted in return and that was the end of conversation as he knew it.
Factories, smoke stacks and grim walls reluctantly gave way to scrubby countryside of some sort. Mostly swamp. The shoulders of the road made a handy dumpsite, so rubbish of all kinds marked our none-too-swift passage. Angelina and I tried a desultory conversation that soon died away. We bumped and jiggled around on the seat, looking out glazedly at the worn landscape. Some hours, or centuries, later we turned off the main road and down a rutted farm track past a sign that read. RASHERS AND QUILLS, decorated with a not-too-bad illustration of a porcuswine rampant. The legend below informed us that ALL TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT.
Thus assured of a friendly reception I slid down from the vehicle when we stopped. Stretched and groaned, then headed for the only door in the large building that faced onto the yard.
A bell tinkled when I opened the door, and the man behind the desk looked up; same build and demeanor as Igor. I was going to say “Good morning” but quickly changed it to “Ugh,” which he ugghed right back.
“Need porcuswine,” I said.
“Carcass or quartered?”
“Alive not dead. In one piece.”
This stopped him and his forehead lined with the unaccustomed effort of thought which finally produced speech.
“No sell alive.”
“Now you do.” I rolled a hundred-credit coin across the desk which he snatched up.
“Against law.”
“Law just changed.” Another coin followed the first. With a great effort a smile slowly appeared on his granite features; he stumbled to his feet and headed for the door. Angelina was waiting outside with fire in her eye.
“One more minute with Igor and I would have killed him. I could see the mute passion building in those bloodshot eyes. We needed a driver. So instead of zonking him here I am. Have you arranged everything?”
“I sincerely hope so!” I said with faked bonhomie. “This other brilliant conversationalist is taking us to the porcuswine. Shall we follow him?” With the thought of visiting these fine creatures my good spirits did return. “We must never forget that they have traveled with mankind to the stars. Providing protection-as well as nourishment. A cross between the deadly and spiny porcupine and the mighty swine, they are a beauty to behold. Ahh!” I said as we entered the building and were face-to-face with a gigantic boar. Angelina’s nostrils widened; she did not completely share my enthusiasm for the creatures.
This was indeed the swine of my dreams! His reddish quills rose when he saw us, tiny eyes glittered with anger. A drop of saliva rolled down one tusk and dripped to the floor. “Sooey,” I intoned softly, “Sooey, sooey—good swine.”
And I reached between the bars and scratched him between the ears. He rattled his quills and grunted with happiness. Porcuswine can’t reach this spot and just love to be scratched.
Angelina had seen me do this before, but the swinemeister bulged his eyes and looked as. though he was suffering a coronary.
“Watch out! He’s a killer!”
“I am sure of it. But only for those who deserve killing. To the rest of mankind the porcuswine is loyal, protectiveyea, even reverent. Good swine,” I said, admiring the immense form. Loath to leave, but I had to. Fine as this boar was, he was too big for our theatrical act. “Need smaller one.”
We went deeper into the swinery, passed wary-eyed mothers with piglets, more and more of these lovely creatures. We turned a corner and I gasped and halted. There in the pen before me was the most endearing yearling I had ever seen. Tiny eyes sparkled with good cheer, delicate quills all—arustle. She trotted over on tiny hoofs when I called, burbled with happiness when I scratched the right spot.
A deal was struck, more credits changed hands, a piece of rope was produced. She took to the leash at once, trotted delicately ahead of us as we returned to our vehicle.
“A swine of delight,” I said. “We shall call her Gloriana.”
“Who was that?” Angelina asked, instantly suspicious. “One of your early girlfriends?”
“Never! It is a name from legend, mythology. Gloriana, the goddess of the barnyard, often depicted with a piglet on her lap-”
“You are making this up!”
“Never!”
“If I didn’t know you better, Jim diGriz, I would think that you were a closet bestialist with your mad adoration of these creatures.”
“When I was a small lad they were my only friends.”
“Well you are a big lad now, so you can keep your friendship priorities in order. Let us make tracks to the circus.”
I let down the ramp in the rear of our transport and Gloriana trotted in happily. There was a little window that looked in from the cab, so I could keep an eye on her. But she was very self-possessed and instantly went to sleep.
I will add nothing about our trip to Fetorrscoria. Some things are best quickly forgotten, dropped out of the memory cells, to shrink and vanish. Our spirits leapt, or at least stirred feebly, when we entered the city limits of Fetorrscoria.
It was well after dark by the time we pulled up before the large building that was our destination. Igor dropped our luggage into the gutter, then scowled down at Gloriana as she trotted past.
“Pig poo in back. Twenty credits more.”
I looked in back and shook my head. “No poo, no pay.” I passed him the agreed amount. He counted it slowly, then shoved it into his pocket. Then his brow furrowed in unaccustomed thought. Memory surfaced sluggishly.
“I see poo. Pay!”
“I no see poo, you no see pay.”
“You pay!” He waved a granite fist in my direction and lurched forward. Angelina smiled.
“My turn, if you please.”
I had no time to answer before an extended foot caught him in the ankle. As he fell past, her joined hands thudded into the back of his neck. He hit the road with a satisfying thud.
As he stumbled to his feet muttering foul oaths I pointed at his truck and said, “Go. Before it gets a lot worse.”
I almost hoped he would try something. He had offended my Angelina and I do not take that lightly.
I wasn’t the only one who felt that way. There was a blur of ruddy quills as Gloriana shot forward. He shrieked and bounced about on one foot, clutching the ankle where a sharp tusk had made its impact. Still muttering he climbed up to the cab. The now empty vehicle vanished into the night, Igor’s pockets heavy with my coin. Gloriana snuffed with pleasure as her nose rustled through a trash bin beside the door. I pressed the button under the sign reading COLOSSEO STAGE ENTRANCE. The door rattled and opened and a bewhiskered face appeared.
“Whatcha want?”
“Is this the present home of Bolshoi’s Big Top?”
“Yeah.”
“Then swing the portal wide, my good man. You have the pleasure of addressing none other than the Mighty Marvell!”
“You’re late.”
“Never too late for the entranced audience that will very soon await the Mighty Marvell with bated breath. Guide us to our dressing rooms, my friend.”
He led us into the depths of the Colosseo. I followed with Angelina on my arm, Gloriana trotting at our side, the luggage coming up behind. My new and illustrious career was about to begin.
“You’re late,” another voice said. I turned.
“Cerberus at your porta
l said exactly the same thing: And you are…”
“Harley Davidson. We’ve been in touch.” He stepped into the dressing room and we shook hands. He was a tall, darkhaired man looking quite dapper in his ringmaster’s garb. From shiny black boots to even shinier top hat he radiated showmanship.
“I hope that you are as good as your reviews,” he said.
I hoped so too since they were all well-planted fakes.
“Even better!” I tried to exude charm and emit positive vibes.
“Last magic act we had the guy was too drunk to go on most nights.”
“I assure you that I am a lifetime teetotaler. May I introduce my wife, Angelina?”
Like a true showman he took her hand and kissed it.
“And this is Gloriana.”
He looked quizzically at her, but did not kiss her. “I like animals in an act. Gives them style. Do you know the Great Grissini? He had some routines like yours.”
“Know him! He is my mentor. Taught me all that I know.” “That’s good to hear. A quality act. There are a couple of hours yet before the first curtain. Take a rest. You look bushed. The call boy will give you plenty of time.”
“Is there a restaurant nearby?” Angelina asked. “It has been a long time between meals.”
“None that I would recommend. But there is a list of takeaways by your phone. They aren’t too bad.. .”
“You have been avoiding me, Harley. We must have a talk.”
The deep voice rumbled like a volcano as the man stepped into the room. He was my height, but must surely have been twice as wide. His head was shaved bald, his trailing mustache long and black. I expected his clothes to split when he moved because his muscles rose and knotted like tree trunks; his forearm was thicker than my thigh. I recognized him from his pictures. The man we had come countless light-years to see.
“Well met I say!” I said. “You can only be the galaxy famous Puissanto. It is indeed a great pleasure to meet you. I am the Mighty Marvell.” I stepped forward and held out my hand in greeting. He extended only two fingers and I could barely get my hand around them. I squeezed hard but they were as unyielding and inflexible as rods of steel. His little red eyes blinked and his forehead furrowed in thought.
“You heard of me?”
“In the farthest star systems they sing your praises.”
The slightest of smiles came and went, accepting my blatant flattery as revealed truth. The scowl was back when he turned to Davidson.
“How come the guards won’t let me out of the building?”
“Because you are barred from the city, that’s why. And every credit of the bribes that I laid around, to keep you out of jail, is coming out of your salary.”
“Nothing to do here all day.”
“Nothing for you to do in the city.”
“It didn’t happen like they said.”
“Of course it did! Do you know how many witnesses I had to bribe to back up your lies? And it has happened to you too often before this, as you know very well.”
“They mugged me.”
“What? Twenty-eight steelworkers mug one bald-headed joker? Three in hospital, all unconscious when the police came.”
“Just having fun …”
“For the last time. One more occasion like this last one and you are out of here and looking for a new circus.”
Harley had nerve-and guts enough for three-standing up to this monster like he did. For a moment I thought it would be murder and destruction right before our eyes. Puissanto tensed his muscles, his biceps rose up, veins writhing under the skin like snakes. Then he muttered something better unheard, turned and stalked away.
“This happen often?” I asked as the tension drained away.
“Too often. He gets his walking papers when this booking is done. I have enough trouble with the hippogriffs.” He looked gloomily down at Gloriana. “And this one better be housetrained.”
Then he was gone and Angelina closed the door behind him, sat down and said “Whoosh. “
“And I second that.”
She smiled. “Welcome to show business,” she said.
Chapter 6
It was sure going to be a hot time on the old town tonight. I found this out when I passed the security station for the Colosseo, which was close to our dressing room. The rows of screens caught my eye; I stopped and looked in. On the screens I could see that floodlights illuminated the plaza before the entrance doors. There was a lot of action there and good things were beginning to happen. Chauffeurs opened doors and saluted. Well-dressed couples emerged from vehicles of all kinds. Transportation that flew, rolled on wheels-or tracks-and in one case an ungainly contraption that actually hopped. There was respectable money out there: I should have realized that. So far all that we had seen of Fetorr was the dirty underbelly of this industrial world. Mines, smelters, factories, grime. But all of this meant serious credit accounts for the lucky few on top. Good old Capitalism red in tooth and fang; little for the many at the bottom, plenty for the few at the top.
All thought of economic ambiguities vanished when I returned to our dressing room, where Angelina was examining herself in the full-length mirror.
“The green outfit!” I cried aloud. “Perfect, gorgeous, incredible-I must kiss this goddess of charm.”
An upraised palm halted me in my passionate plunge.
“Later. I’ve been half an hour getting this theatrical makeup on and I am not going to let you smear it now.”
“Can I smear it later?”
A very negative sniff was about all I deserved for this nottoo-snappy rejoinder. I realized now that her eye shadow was shadowier than usual. Her eyebrows arched high, black and intense; ruddy patches glowed on each cheek. “Get your makeup on now, Jim, just as I showed you.”
“I will, I will.” Seating myself at the mirror, I rubbed on a layer of foundation. A motion caught my eye, and I saw the imaged form of Gloriana settling into her basket.
“Has she been any trouble?” I asked.
“Quite the opposite. Very good-tempered, until some drunken lout tried to get in through the door. She’s faster than I am. Had his trouser legs in shreds in an instant and him yiping back down the corridor. As a small reward she had a cheese sandwich with black truffles, and a bowl of milk, and is now having a rest. I wore the green outfit because it goes so well with red quills.”
We had time to wait, because our gig ended the program, the last one before the first interval. But enthusiasm gripped us so much that we went up to the stage and looked out through the peephole in the main curtain. The seats and boxes were filling up; looked like a full house. Then we had to step aside as Puissanto’s heavy gear was dragged into place. His was the opening act.
“Get into the wings,” Harley Davidson ordered us, just as the band blared out a brassy fanfare. He pushed through the curtains and was greeted by enthusiastic clapping.
“Ladies and gentlemen, and peons-welcome to Bolshoi’s Big Top.” This provoked even more ecstatic applause, particularly from the workers in the highest balcony, separated from their betters by strong wire mesh. The ringmaster waited until the clapping had stopped.
“The finest acts in the galaxy are now yours to enjoy. Put your cares behind you and allow yourself to enjoy the finest entertainment that the galaxy can provide. Tonight you will be amazed by the mysterious magic of the Mighty Marvell. You will marvel at the multivaried life-forms of Gar Goyle and his astonishing troop of monstrosities. They are matched in outstanding attraction only by the sinuous beauty of Belissima and her Bouncing Ballerinas.”
This drew not only applause, but shrill whistles from the upper reaches of the audience.
“To open this evening’s performance of the daring, the dynamic and the death-defying, I give you the man of titanium, the strongest man in this galaxy and any other galaxy, the unstoppable, the unforgettable, the unbelievable-Puissanto!”
The ringmaster stepped aside as the curtains opened and there was the strongma
n, oiled and sleek, bulging of muscles and undoubtedly reeking of testosterone. Where Angelina and I stood in the wings we had a fine view of his act-and fine it undoubtedly was.
“High-carbon steel,” Ringmaster Davidson said, as Puissanto clanged a finger-thick, meter-long bar of steel on the anvil before him. He then held it by the ends, knelt and placed it across his knee. There were oohs and aahs from the audience as he tensed his muscles, his shirt splitting open with the effort, and bent the steel across his thigh. Everyone liked that-liked it better when he opened his mouth and chomped down hard on the steel.
And bit it in two.
“You will notice before you-“the ringmaster said when the shouting died down, “-that the jolly brickworkers who have just come on stage will now be plying their trade while Puissanto continues to amuse you.”
Silence from the gentry in the audience below, but hearty oaths and shouted insults and advice to their comrades on stage from the workers above. Puissanto continued with his feats of strength while the workers on the stage sloshed cement on bricks, slammed them into place, and began to build a wall. It 69 was as high as their heads when another fanfare blared and the ringmaster stepped forward.
“Solid brick and mortar-you saw it built. A strong brick wall, or at least it will be when the mortar has set. But we will not wait for that. The machine you now see coming forward, used only in the most hazardous conditions, will set this wall before your very eyes.”
There were screams and gasps as a tongue of flame flared out. The machine’s operator, wearing a protective suit, played the flame up and down the wall. When it was fried to his satisfaction two heavies carrying sledgehammers came forward and, accompanied by the anvil chorus from the orchestra, swung the sledges and tried to bring down the wall. It remained intact.
The laborers left, taking the machine and their tools with them; the ringmaster bowed his way out as well. The theater darkened and the spotlights picked out the solid figure of the strongman as he stalked forward to look at the wall. There was not a sound from the audience as he tapped it with his fist and smiled. Now it was just wall and man, lit up against a background of darkness.
The Stainless Steel Rat Joins the Circus ssr-11 Page 6
