by Allan Cole
"Excuthe me," she said. "Mutht have been thomething I ate."
Safar nodded. What a polite dragon, he thought. Then he passed out again.
The last thing he heard was:
"Really, Arlain!" Methydia said. "Can’t you control yourself? You’ve scared another guest half to death!"
"I’m thorry," the dragon wailed. "Wath’n my fault. The thquath we had for thupper mutht of been thpoiled."
* * *
Several days of dreamless sleep passed, interspersed with half-conscious feedings. Then the sudden moment came when he awoke and felt very strong and very alert. He smelled perfume and immediately he felt very... very...
He opened his eyes. A dim, flickering light illuminated his surroundings. There was a cabin roof above his head, shadows dancing on the dark ceiling. Safar looked down and saw a certain part had made itself embarrassingly apparent beneath the blankets.
Safar heard a familiar, throaty laugh. Methydia’s face leaned over him, lips parted in a smile, almond eyes dancing with humor. She glanced down, then back at him again.
"It’s good to see you among the living," she said.
Safar flushed. He started to apologize, but Methydia put a finger to his lips, silencing him.
"Don’t be embarrassed on my account," she said. "Consider your little upstart welcome. Any friend of yours, and all that."
Safar opened his mouth to speak, but once again a long, slender finger touched his lips.
"You’re a young man," Methydia said. "Youth has its advantages and its disadvantages. The advantages are apparent." She glanced at the blanket. To Safar’s relief his problem had subsided. "The disadvantages are - what to do with your advantages."
"Oh," was all Safar could say.
"Now, I suppose you have some questions," Methydia said. "Assuming your uninvited guest isn’t so consumed with himself that he’ll allow you to think."
"First off," Safar said, "I should tell you about myself before I have the right to ask any questions."
"Go on," Methydia said.
"My name is Safar Timura," he said in a rush. "I’ve just escaped execution in Walaria. I could swear on my mother’s soul I didn’t deserve such a fate. That I am no criminal. That I am only a student - a seeker of truth who has never done anyone harm. But none of that should matter to you.
"What should matter is that I am wanted by very powerful men who would most certainly do you harm if they learned you had aided me."
Methydia clapped her hands. "What a delicious speech," she said. "And so well spoken. My compliments to your mother and father for raising such an honest lad."
Once again Safar felt the discomfort of a blush. "I was only trying to warn you about what you might be in for," he said, a bit sullen.
Methydia kissed him and patted his cheek. "Don’t mind me, dear," she said. "I have an old woman’s blathering tongue."
Safar’s eyes strayed to her lush figure, swathed in a many-layered, translucent gown.
"You’re not so old," he mumbled - and tore his eyes away.
"If you keep talking like that, my pretty lad," Methydia said, "we’re going to get ourselves in trouble.
"Now. Allow me to compose myself."
Methydia, ever the actress as Safar eventually learned, fanned her cheek with a delicate hand, saying, "You have a way of troubling a woman’s concentration, dear."
Safar had learned better than to automatically blurt an apology. He said, "Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"Ask away," Methydia replied.
"First I want to ask about the Cloudship," he said. "Then I want to ask about the circus."
* * *
The answers consumed many days and many miles. In fact, during the months Safar spent with Methydia and her troupe, he never did hear the entire tale - although everyone from Biner, the muscular dwarf, to Arlain, the human dragon who preferred vegetables over meat, was more than willing to enlighten him.
The Cloudship had no life of its own and although complicated in design, it was an object and therefore easier to explain.
Essentially, it was a ship - a ship with its nose bobbed off and its masts and sails removed. It had a long ship’s deck, a high ship’s bridge and a ship’s galleys and cabins. The timbers it was made of, however, were light as parchment and strong as steel.
Methydia said the rare planks were the gift of a woodsman - a long ago lover - who stole the trees from a sacred grove to prove he’d make a worthy husband. The woodsman’s most ardent rival - a magical toy maker of great renown - turned the planks into a marvelous vessel, hoping to upstage his opponent.
"I was very young, then," Methydia said. "But although I was dumb enough to attract men I didn’t want, I was bright enough to not only keep my gifts, but to avoid marrying my lovers without giving insult."
The body of the Cloudship dangled beneath two balloons, each ninety feet high and made of a strong, light cloth that was not only moisture proof but offered a marvelous surface for all the colorful paints the troupe used for decoration. Methydia’s face graced the front, or forward, balloon. The legend, "Methydia’s Flying Circus", the aft.
The quantities of hot air required to lift the vessel were provided by two big furnaces, called "burners," with magically operated bellows to fan the fuel - a mixture of crumbled animal dung, dried herbs and witch’s powders that gave off a faint odor of ammonia. Ballast was ordinary sand in ordinary bags that could be spilled out to gain greater heights. To descend, you "worked the mouth" - pulling on ropes that widened the balloons’ bottom openings so that gas could escape. One thing needing constant attention were the big clamps - or carabiners - that were attached the cables holding the Cloudship’s body to the balloons. They tended to loosen in a rough wind and had to be tightened constantly.
Beyond that, the vessel seemed simple enough to operate. Although sometimes there were periods of intense - and to Safar, bewildering - activity, mostly the Cloudship seemed to run itself. Besides the main members of the troupe, there was a crew of half-a-dozen men and women called "roustabouts." They were usually busy attending to the equipment and props that went into making a circus, leaving the routine operation of the Cloudship to the performers.
Part of that routine was steering. The task was performed on the bridge, where a large ship’s wheel was mounted. The spoked wheel was linked to an elaborate system of scoops, sails and rudders that provided steerage.
"How fast does she go?" Safar asked Biner one day. It was Biner’s turn at the wheel, while Safar had the task of keeping an eye on the compass.
"Depends on the wind," Biner said, "and the temperature. We’ve made as much as three hundred miles in a day. Other times we’ve been becalmed and made less than thirty in a week."
Safar watched Biner work the wheel. Despite the elaborate steering system it seemed to him direction was mainly determined by the wind.
"What happens in a storm?" he asked.
Biner chortled. "We pray a lot. And Methydia casts her spells. But mostly we pray. If there aren’t any mountains about it’s best just to let the storm be the boss. If there are, we tie up to something and hang on. Worst thing you can do is put her on the ground. That’s if the storm doesn’t give you any notice and you can’t find a barn big enough to hold her. Wind can rip her up before you get the balloons collapsed and stowed away."
Safar could see straight off that, storm or not, the best place to be was sailing high above the earth where no one - king or outlaw - could reach you.
He thought of his recent troubles in Walaria and said, "It’s too bad you ever have to come down."
Biner nodded understanding. Safar had told the crew an abbreviated version of his tale of woe.
"Gotta eat," he said. "Food may grow in trees, but not in the air." His massive shoulders rolled in a shrug. "Ground’s not all bad. Wait’ll you work your first show. Nothing like an audience’s applause to restore your good feelings about folks. Especially the tikes, way their eyes light up warms y
ou from the inside out."
It had already been agreed that Safar could travel with the troupe for awhile. To earn his keep he was being trained to handle the hundreds of small details that went into - in circus parlance - "wowing the rubes."
"How did you become a circus performer?" Safar asked. "Or were you born to it?"
Biner shook his massive head. "My parents were actors," he said. "Came from a long line of board trodders, as a matter of fact. Made my first appearance while I was still suckling my mother’s breast. Played all kinds of child parts. Kept on playing them way past my time. I’m kind of short, in case you didn’t notice. My mother and father were normal-sized and never did figure out what to make of me. Then I started growing out, instead of up. And I couldn’t play tikes anymore."
Biner’s face darkened at some painful memory. Then he shook it off, displaying his wide teeth in a grin.
"Swept theater floors and other drudge work for a time. Then one day this Cloudship sailed right over the town, music playing, folks way up in the sky waving at us like they were gods and goddesses. They shouted for everybody to follow. So I followed. And I was bitten by the circus bug the very first show. I begged Methydia for a tryout. She gave me one and I’ve been with her ever since. Going on fifteen years, now. Even gave me a new name after awhile - Biner, from the carabiners that hold us up. She said it’s because she depends on me so much."
Although Biner’s story was entirely different in its details from the background of the others, Safar soon learned the members of the troupe all had one thing in common - their appearances had made them outcasts from regular society so they’d formed their own. It was Methydia who’d given them that chance, coming along at just the right time, it seemed, to rescue them from unpleasant circumstances.
"Weren’t fer Methydia," Kairo said one day, "I’d still be back at me village, gettin’ conked wi’ rocks." Kairo was the acrobat with the detachable head. "Uster hide in me house," he said, "so’s I wouldn’t get conked. So th’ lads’d stone me house, breakin’ windows and stovin’ holes in th’ roof. So me muvver threw me out. Rather I got conked th’n the house, I s’pose."
Rabix and Elgy - the snake charmer and the snake - had been seasoned circus performers when Methydia found them. But they’d had a disagreement with their employer over unpaid wages and had been left at a roadside in the middle of nowhere.
"We had not even a copper to buy a slender mouse for my weekly dinner," Elgy said in his oddly lilted tones.
Elgy was the snake with a man’s face. He was also the "brains in the act." Rabix, he of the turban and breech cloth, was a mindless soul who sat or stood placidly wherever he was put. Elgy alone could communicate with him and cause him to act.
"He plays an excellent tune on the pipes," Elgy said. "As witless as the poor fellow is, he is a much better musician than the last man I had."
Arlain, the dragon woman, was being hunted by a mob set on vengeance when Methydia rescued her.
"I wath hiding in a thed and thort of thet it on fire. And then it thpread and thet fire to the whole thity." Arlain wiped her eyes, overcome by the memory. "It wath an acthident," she said. "I thaid I wath thorry, but they wouldn’t lithen."
Arlain had no idea where she came from. "I thuppoth my father dropped me when he wath changing netht," she said. "A farmer’th wife found me and raithed me ath a pet. But then I got older and tharted having acthidenth and her huthband chathed me off the farm. And that’th why I wath hiding in the thed."
Methydia was not so forthcoming as the others. Although she never refused to answer any of Safar’s questions, her answers tended just to tease the edges of the central question. Details of her background came only in veiled hints or casually dropped remarks.
Much later, after she took Safar as a lover, he complained about her habit of never revealing anything personal.
Methydia was amused. "I was born to be a woman of mystery, my sweet," she said. "It is a role I have cherished all my life. And with each passing year the mystery deepens, does it not? For then there is more for me not to tell."
She shifted in his arms. "Besides," she said, "I fear you would be disappointed if you knew all there was to know. What if I was merely a milk maid who ran away with her first lover? Or a young town wife who fled a fat old husband?"
Safar thought for a moment, then said, "I can’t imagine you as either one. You were never ordinary, Methydia. That I know for certain."
"Are you, now, my sweet?" she murmured. Then she nibbled her way up his neck. "Are... you... really... really... entirely ... certain...?" She found his lips, shutting off any reply.
They made love and afterwards Safar thought she was an even greater mystery than before. A delicious mystery, he thought. Then he realized perhaps that was her point.
All he ever really knew about her was that she was a strong-willed woman, a kind-hearted leader others felt comfortable to follow.
She was also a witch.
Safar sensed it the first time he became fully conscious. The atmosphere had been charged with more than her seductive presence. Little whorls of energy swirled about her, making the hair rise on the backs of his hands. And deep in those almond eyes he could see flecks of magic that sparkled when the light struck just so.
He said nothing of his own powers, partly because he didn’t know how she’d react. Would she be jealous, like Umurhan? But mainly it was because he was so shaken by his experience in Walaria he was loathe to visit his magical side until he’d had time to recover.
Evidently Gundara felt the same way. The little Favorite was silent for a long time. For awhile Safar worried that the desert ordeal might have been too much for Gundara and his twin. He would take the stone turtle out of his purse from time to time to check. The idol was cold to the touch, but he could still feel a faint shimmer of magic. He thought of summoning Gundara to see if he needed anything, but then he wondered if the spell commanding the Favorite’s presence might do more harm than any good he could offer. He thought, Let him rest and heal himself. And so that is what he did.
* * *
Early one morning, a few weeks after his recovery, Safar was awakened by loud music and excited voices. He crept out of the little storage room that was his bachelor’s cabin, rubbing his eyes and wondering what was up.
The Cloudship was abuzz with activity. The crew was hauling chests of equipment and props out of the lockers. The members of the troupe were all doing stretching exercises or practicing their specialties.
The music came from Rabix, who was sitting - legs crossed - in the center of the deck, playing his pipes. It was a strange instrument, consisting of bound-together tubes of varying lengths. They were valved and Rabix played by blowing through the tubes while his fingers flowed gracefully over the valves. A marvelous stream of music issued from the instrument, sounding like an entire orchestra of drums and strings and trumpets and flutes. Elgy, anchored by a few coils wrapped loosely about his neck, rose nearly three feet above Rabix’ turbaned head, weaving in time to the music.
Kairo practiced his high wire act, strolling along a suspended cable, then pretending to fall. He’d steady himself, then let his head drop from his shoulders. He’d catch it, squeaking in fear, then put it on again.
Arlain, who was so excited she’d forgotten her clothes, bounded naked about the deck, shouting joyfully, "Thowtime folkth! Thowtime folkth!"
There was a roar from Biner, "Here now, Arlain! Put something on! This is a family show!"
Arlain skidded to a stop, tail lashing furiously. She looked down, saw what she’d done, then turned from pale white to the deepest red.
A claw went to her mouth. "Oh, my goodneth grathiouth," she said.
Then she scuttled off, wailing, "I’m thorry. I’m thorry."
As she rushed into wardrobe room, her tail hooking out to slam the door behind her, Biner shouted, "And watch out for the-"
Fire and smoke blasted out of the wardrobe room’s window, cutting Biner off in midbellow.
Arlain wailed something incomprehensible and a few crew members came running with buckets of water and sand to douse the fire.
"If only she wouldn’t get so excited," Biner said. Then he shrugged. "Oh, well. She’s a grand crowd pleaser. So what if she starts a few fires?" He grinned at Safar. "Temperament, my lad," he said. "All the best talent’s got it. If you can’t take the temperament then you might as well get out of the circus business."
"That’s good advice, I’m sure," Safar said. "But would you mind slowing down for a minute, please, and tell me what in the hells is going on?"
"You mean nobody told you?" Biner was aghast.
Safar said, no, he’d not been informed of anything, thank you very much.
"Why, the Deming Fair’s only two hours away. First show at dusk, second at eight bells. We’ll be there a week. Two performances every night, plus two and a matinee on Godsday."
He clapped Safar on the back, nearly bowling him over.
"So it’s just like Arlain said, lad - ‘It’s Showtime, Folks!’"
* * *
The town of Deming was the center of a rich farming area, fed by a long snaking river. The fairgrounds sat just outside the town’s main gates and it was already packed with people, strolling past tents blazing with color or crowding around exhibits and hucksters of every variety.
Methydia’s Flying Circus made a dramatic entrance, swooping low over the town and fairgrounds, Rabix’s music blaring through an amplifying trumpet. The troupe had changed into glittering costumes and lined the edges of the Cloudship, waving and shouting invitations to the crowd.
Arlain, wearing spangled breastplates and modesty patch, stood on a rail, breathing long spears of fire and waving her tail. Methydia had donned a red witch’s robe, scooped low in front and slit on one side to the hip. She was provocatively posed beside Arlain, the wind whipping the gossamer robe aside to reveal her long shapely legs.
Biner, voice magically enhanced by one of Methydia’s spells, bellowed: "See the fire breathing dragon! Gasp at the feats of Kairo, the Headless Marvel. Test the strength of the mightiest man alive! See the Snake Charmer dare the deadly Serpent Of Sunyan! Wonder at the Miracles of the Mysterious Methydia.
