by Allan Cole
"Come one! Come all! Lads and maids of all ages. Welcome to Methydia’s Flying Circus Of Miracles.
"The Greatest Show On Esmir!"
Once a big enough crowd had been gathered the Cloudship sailed slowly and majestically away, leading them to a wide field next to the fairgrounds. Then it descended, stopping about twenty feet above the earth. Biner and a few roustabouts, bags of tools slung over their shoulders, swung down on lines, then quickly hammered iron stakes into the ground and secured the Cloudship to the stakes.
One by one, the members of the troupe slid down the lines. Each pausing midway to show off some acrobatic feat to wild applause from the gathering crowd.
On the other side of the Cloudship Safar and the remaining roustabouts had the more mundane task of lowering chests and crates of equipment. But Safar soon learned even this job had its admirers. Wide-eyed boys were transfixed by the work, oohing and ahhing as each item was swayed to the ground. The roustabouts took immediate advantage of their interest. They handed out free tickets to the biggest lads in return for their help. Soon a score of muscular young men had stripped to the waist and were helping to set up the circus.
Dazed by the excitement of his first circus, Safar was jolted from job to job by barked orders. Before he knew it a huge tent had been erected, stands hurled up, and he was being pushed into a ticket booth at the entrance of the tent. Someone shoved tickets into his hand and he found himself shouting the seller’s speech Biner had drummed into him during the journey:
"Five copper’s our price, folks. Now that’s not much."
He slapped coins down, counting, "One, two, three, four and five!"
Then he swept one away.
"Bring a friend, we’ll make it four!"
He palmed a coin.
"If she’s pretty, it’s only three."
Then another.
"Two for your granny!"
And another.
"One for your babe."
Then he held up the remaining coin for all to see.
"Catch the lucky copper and the ticket’s free."
He tossed the coin into the crowd. Children scrambled for it. Safar saw one little girl knocked down in the rush. She sat in the dirt weeping. His heart went out to her and for the first time since he’d joined the troupe he felt the tingle of magic in his veins. He whispered a spell, gestured, and the child suddenly shouted in glee.
She tottered to her feet, crying, "I got it! I got it!" She raised a hand, displaying the lucky copper. "See!"
The other children groaned in disappointment, but the adults were delighted. They lifted the little girl up and passed her over their heads until she was standing in front of Safar.
With a flourish, he presented her with a ticket. She stared at it, eyes huge with wonder.
Safar was really caught up in the spirit now. Words flowed smoothly from brain to tongue.
"We’ve got ourselves a lucky lady to start the day, folks!" he shouted. "Now, where’s her mother and we’ll make it two?" A young matron in a patched dress announced her presence and was pushed forward. Safar presented her with a ticket. "Step right in ladies," he cried. "Step right in and we will reveal to you the greatest wonders of Esmir."
As the grateful mother and her child stepped through the entrance the crowd boiled around Safar, practically throwing coins at him in their fever to get their tickets.
He sold out in half an hour. Then he collected the coin box, closed the booth and slipped inside the tent.
The show had already begun. The audience was roaring laughter as Arlain, wearing a gaudy dress, pursued Biner - costumed as a lumpish clown soldier - around the ring. At appropriate moments she’d let loose a blast of fire at Biner’s padded rear. He’d jump, hands grabbing his bottom, and let out a falsetto shriek of pretended pain. Then he’d run on, crying for help, Arlain at his heels.
Safar found a seat in a darkened corner and watched the show unfold, intent as any member of the paying audience.
The performance lasted three hours. During the whole time the troupe never stopped and there were so many costume changes it seemed as if there were fifty entertainers with fifty different acts to amaze the crowd.
Rabix and Elgy provided all the music. They were hidden beneath a small bandstand with stuffed dummies for musicians. Besides playing the clown, Biner costumed himself as a dozen different fearsome animals. Each would threaten the audience in some way, only to be foiled by Methydia, who played a mighty huntress dressed in outfits that seemed to get skimpier and gaudier with each change. Biner also displayed many feats of great strength, each more amazing than the last.
Arlain was every bit as good as Biner had said. She not only juggled fiery objects, she proved to be a fantastic acrobat who could swing from her tail wrapped around a trapeze while tossing flaming swords.
Besides his high wire act Kairo played catcher to Arlain, hurling her high into the air to another trapeze. When she swung back he’d pretend to drop his head, fumble getting it back on - then suddenly remember Arlain and catch her just in time.
Talented as everyone was, however, Methydia was clearly the star attraction. She appeared in her role as Methydia The Magnificent four times during the show. Dressed in her filmy red witch’s robes, she made each entrance a treat in itself to the growing delight of the crowd. Multi-colored smoke would suddenly erupt, or there’d be a crash of forked-lighting, or a great wall of fire. Then she’d swing through the fire on a flaming rope. Or float above the boiling smoke. Or seem to dive out of the lightning, to be caught in Biner’s powerful arms.
She bade objects both large and small to appear and disappear, always accompanied by some kind of dramatic pyrotechnics. She called volunteers from the audience and caused them to float above the ground. With Biner to aid her she put on magical skits, all with romantic themes that didn’t leave a dry eye in the house. She sawed Arlain in half, then put her back together again.
To Safar the most amazing thing about Methydia’s performance was that although he could feel a faint of buzz of real magic emanating from her, there didn’t appear to be any sorcery behind the feats themselves. Some were so difficult he should have been hit by the sear of a powerful spellcast. Instead, he felt nothing but that faint buzz. A few of her feats, like the sawing in half business, were just plain impossible. No wizard could do that! The more Safar watched, the more mystified he became. How did she make magic without using magic?
Then there was a great fanfare announcing the show’s end. As the lights came up Safar found himself whistling and cheering along with the rest of the audience.
As the people filed out, chatting excitedly about their experiences and carrying sleeping children over their shoulders, The crew started cleaning the stands and getting ready for the evening performance. Safar went to work with a will, sweeping where he was told to sweep, lifting what he was told to lift.
He was whistling a merry tune when Biner strolled up, wiping the last vestiges of clown makeup from his face.
"So, what did you think, lad?" Biner asked.
"I’ve never seen anything like it in my life," Safar said. "Especially, Methydia. Oh, don’t get me wrong. You were grand! Everyone was grand!"
Biner laughed. "But Methydia was just a little grander than the rest of us, right?"
"A lot grander," Safar said. "No offense."
"None taken, lad," Biner said. "It isn’t just because she owns the circus that she gets top billing. She’s the real star."
He gave Safar a hand with the heavy trunk, lifting his end with remarkable ease. "Suppose you might elect to stay on awhile, then, lad?" he asked casually. "Pay’s not much, but we eat regular."
Safar laughed. "As long as you don’t charge me admission," he joked. Then, seriously, "I’d just as soon take a rest from the outside world for awhile. Not much in it is all that worthwhile, from what I’ve seen."
"That’s the spirit, lad!" Biner cried. "To the Hells with them all!
"And damn everything bu
t the Circus."
* * *
That night after the final show, the troupe ate and retired to tents set up on the ground. The Cloudship, Safar discovered, couldn’t be used for that purpose when a show was going on. He’d been so overwhelmed by all the new experiences he hadn’t noticed a good portion of the Cloudship’s body was disassembled and turned into parts for the circus, such as the stands the audiences sat in.
He was heading off to sleep in the roustabout’s tent when Methydia emerged from a small, gaily-decorated pavilion and beckoned him.
"I think we need to have a little talk, my sweet," she said, gesturing for him to enter.
The pavilion, lit by oil lamps, was spread with thick carpets. Pillows were piled onto trunks to make comfortable chairs. A curtained hammock was strung at the back for a bed.
Methydia bade Safar to sit and poured him a little wine. She raised her glass in a toast, intoning, "May the winds be gentle, the stars be bright. May the crew be skilled, the landing light." And they drank.
After a moment, Methydia said, "I heard about your little trick with the lucky coin. Apparently you made a little girl and her mother very happy."
Safar became uneasy. Although Methydia was smiling and her words were gentle, he could see from the look in her eye the purpose of this visit had nothing to do with compliments. It was time to bare his soul.
"I haven’t told you everything about me," Safar confessed.
"If you mean that you left out the small part about being a wizard," Methydia said with exaggerated mildness, "I expect you’re right."
"Only a student wizard," Safar hastened to add.
Methydia curled a lip. "I see. Only a student. Well, that certainly makes me feel much better."
"I’m sorry," Safar said, feeling as socially clumsy as Arlain. "I didn’t mean to deceive you."
"Oh, you didn’t deceive me," Methydia said. "I sensed you had certain powers right off. And after your little confession about being hunted by powerful men, I just wanted to see how long it would take for you to tell me the rest. But I’ve never been known for my patience. So I’m asking you to tell me now."
"I was really deceiving myself, more than anything," Safar said. "Magic has brought me nothing but grief. And after what happened in Walaria - I suppose I just wanted a rest. To live normally for a while."
"There was a girl," Methydia said. "Nerisa, I believe?" She saw Safar’s look of surprise and explained, "You babbled quite a bit while you were unconscious. Her name was mentioned more than most. A young lover, I presume?"
Safar shook his head. "No, she was just a child. A street urchin who became my friend. She died saving my life."
Methydia drank a little of her wine, eyeing him across the rim. Then, "From the way you railed in your sleep, I thought something tragic had happened to her."
"I only wish it could have been Nerisa instead of me you found in the desert," Safar said.
"Some would say you ought to take comfort in the gods," Methydia said. "Pray that they had their reasons for choosing one over the other. Personally, I’ve never found that sort of thing much help. But you might."
Safar shook his head. "No."
Methydia drew a small vial out of her sleeve. "Give me your wine," she said.
Puzzled, he complied. She poured the contents of the vial into his glass and stirred it with a long, graceful finger.
She handed him the glass. "Drink it," she commanded.
"What is it?" Safar asked.
"Oh, just a little potion my old granny taught me how to make," she said. "It will help heal the wounds caused by your friend’s death."
Safar hesitated. Methydia pushed the glass to his lips. "It won’t make you forget Nerisa, my sweet," she said softly. "It will just make everything seem long ago. And therefore easier to bear."
Safar drank. The potion was tasteless, but when it hit his belly it frothed up into heady fumes that seemed to rise along the back of his spine. He felt his muscles relax, then his tight-strung nerves.
He closed his eyes and saw Nerisa’s face with its twisted little grin.
The face filled his mind’s eye for a moment, then receded - floating away, deep into darkness, until it was a small image.
Then he put her away in a special chest of memories where the sweet mingled with the bitter.
* * *
Chapter Seventeen
The Worm Of Kyshaat
An unseasonable cold snap ended their stay at Deming and they sailed south to warmer climes, storms and blustery winds at their back.
Safar knew from first-hand experience the storms were from out of the seas beyond Caspan. They came regularly - although usually not this early - racing across the northern lands, bursting over the Gods’ Divide, then rolling down the southern slopes of the Bride’s gown to sweep across the wide plains to the mountains beyond Jaspar.
Although the Cloudship was untroubled by the storms - always staying just ahead of the frontal winds - it was moving much faster than before, covering as much as two hundred miles in a day.
With every mile Safar was flung farther from Kyrania and soon, like Nerisa’s image, all thoughts of home receded into the background. He was overcome by a marvelous feeling of freedom. They sailed across seas of crystal air, over great fluffy fields of clouds, through flocks of bright-feathered birds and under starry skies where the moon was so close it seemed you only had to turn the ship’s wheel and you could fly to it.
They sailed on a loose schedule Methydia kept in her head. Day would blend into delightful day, then she’d suddenly issue orders and they’d prepare to land at a town or village where there was always a crowd to fill the ship’s larder and the troupe’s purses.
After that first night in Deming Methydia evidently came to some sort of decision and began to teach him her own brand of magic. Her training mocked all the forms and conventions of Umurhan’s School Of Sorcery. In Methydia’s view presentation was more important than the spell itself.
"I suppose it’s true that magic is a science," she told Safar one day. "There are rules and the scholars tell us there are reasons for those rules."
As she spoke Methydia was sorting through a large wardrobe chest looking for a suitable costume for Safar.
"Personally," she said, "the whys and wherefores never interested me. I’m an artist. I don’t care why something happens. Only the effect it has on my art."
Methydia held up a dark blue shirt with a plunging neckline and floppy sleeves. It was decorated like a starry night, silvery constellations swirling in the dim light of her cabin’s oil lamps.
"This is perfect," she murmured. "It’ll bring out the blue of your eyes." Methydia set the shirt aside and continued rummaging.
She said, "I created a circus to display my art. I didn’t have the idea until my lovers made the Cloudship possible. I was an actress, then. Billed as a woman of beauty and mystery. I kept my witchery locked in a box, like my makeup. I only used it to cure a blemish, trouble a rival or heighten my performance by wresting a sob from the audience.
"But soon as I saw the Cloudship the idea came to me - ‘Methydia’s Flying Circus Of Miracles.’ My life as an actress - and hidden witch - suddenly seemed tawdry. Meaningless. Unfulfilling."
Methydia paused, holding up a pair of breeches that were a near match to the shirt. She studied it, then wrinkled her nose. "Too too much," she muttered, tossing the breeches back into the chest and continuing her search.
"Where was I?" she asked, then - "Oh, yes. My life as unfulfilled actress." Her face turned serious, gestures dramatic. "I wanted more," she said, "and yes, I admit it, the ‘more’ was applause. I’m a self-centered bitch, but then what true artist isn’t? The circus gave my art purpose. And in that purpose I found my heart. That is the gift I give to my audience now..." She laid a light hand on her breast... "My heart."
She held the dramatic moment, then went on. "I like to please people," she said, "to lift away their troubles, to thrill them with danger that
is always happening to another, but in the end they know is safe. I like to help them remember how it was to be young, how it was to love, and if they’re young - how what might be, may be."
Suddenly Methydia solemn expression dissolved into one of delight. She clapped her hands, making Safar jump with surprise.
"Here’s just the thing!" she cried, hauling a pair of snowy white breeches from the trunk.
Methydia held them up, looking critical and turning them this way and that.
She tugged at the seat. "We’ll have take them in here," she said. Then she grinned, "So the ladies can see your assets better."
Safar blushed, mumbling something about it not being seemly.
"Nonsense," Methydia replied. "If Arlain and I can jiggle about for the lads, the least you can do is give the maids a thrill. That’s what makes a show. A little sex, a little comedy, a clown chase. All frosting on the cake."
She placed the breeches next to the shirt. "Now all we need is a wide belt and tight boots and you’ll have the rubes eating out of your hand."
Then Methydia gave him his first lesson. To his surprise, she started by having him show her the coin spell he’d used on the little girl in Deming.
"That’s easy," Safar said, "I did that when I was a babe - moving bright things around to amuse myself."
"Just show me, my sweet," she said, passing him a coin.
Safar threw the coin into the corner. While it was still rolling he gestured, made it vanish, gestured again, and it fell into Methydia’s still-open hand.
"What’s this?" Methydia said, but in disdain, not amazement. "You call that magic?"
She flipped the coin high into the air. Quickly she jabbed a dramatic finger at the deck. Safar’s eyes followed. There was the sharp crack! of an explosion. A stream of green smoke bloomed up - drawing Safar’s eyes with it - and the coin appeared to vanish in the cloud. Methydia leaned forward, her face coming so close Safar thought she was about to kiss him. Her lips grazed his, then she drew back, grinning.
She took his nose between finger and thumb, twisting it gently, once, twice, three times. And each time she twisted a coin dropped to his chest and rolled to the floor. She swept them up, threw them into the air, another crack! a stream of smoke and the three coins became one, which she snatched out of the air.
