Betrayal

by Fiona McIntosh

  The two very quickly established themselves as more than handy discoveries and when Lute met Greta, and married her soon after, it seemed a small miracle that she too was impressively supple, fast and daring. Lute and Saxon taught her all they had learned and when they were blessed with five children in the marriage, including the twins, these too were taught the skills and the Flying Foxes rapidly found fame wherever the circus travelled.

  What happened to Lute?

  It was the first time Alyssa had interrupted Saxon’s quiet narration.

  He died. There was pain in his voice.

  An accident?

  No. No accident. It was destined to happen but could have been avoided if his brother had not insisted on taking such risks. The wound was gaping in his raw voice.

  She hated pressing him but somehow this seemed important. Tell me.

  Saxon was silent for a long time. When the silence became uncomfortable Alyssa resisted the urge to fidget or speak; she stole a glance at him and saw he was struggling with tears.

  It was a piece I called Flight. Very dangerous. Lute was a brilliant flyer and tumbler. He was so skilled he could find my arms, my legs, my shoulders anywhere it seemed. I was always the better balancer. He made me do the more spectacular acts on the high wire because of this.

  Flight combined both our skills but it needed us to be so perfectly in tune that if I were to stand a hair’s breadth away from where he expected, or Lute were to over-jump minutely, it spelt serious injury…or, as it turned out, death.

  Alyssa let his pain consume her and shared his tears.

  He continued. We had practised it so many times but Lute never wanted to perform it because the risk was too high and so we let it lie.

  But one summer’s night we were honoured by the presence of King Lorys and Queen Nyria. The whole circus was abuzz at their unexpected attendance. Cirq Zorros had been performing in Tal for three moons—such was our popularity—but this was the first time the royals had joined the audience.

  And so you thought you’d put on something spectacular for them, she concluded.

  Exactly. Lute refused, as he always did, and I persisted, as was my way, until he relented. He gave a brittle smile and shrugged.

  He waited until we had almost completed our act, so strong was his reluctance. Zorros was already striding out into the arena to join the applause for the Foxes and to announce the next act. To this day I don’t know why Lute suddenly gave in and stuck his thumb in the air.

  Alyssa felt as though she did not need to hear any more but the floodgates had been opened and Saxon was going to finish this story.

  I was still on the high wire. Greta realised what Lute had signalled and was screaming at us from the ground not to do it. I clearly remember my brother smiling at me from all that way up. It was the gentlest, most affectionate grin and I loved him so much for allowing me to show off this trick to the King and Queen. We took off the red bandanas we used to wear in those days and, just before we tied them around our eyes, he mouthed ‘Don’t miss me, little brother, or you’ll miss me very much’. I laughed at him for we had become clever at lip-reading over the years.

  Alyssa wondered if this was the first time he had ever recalled this reckless event other than in his own painful thoughts. She took his hand as he spoke.

  Lute had begun to swing. Even blindfolded I knew this because the drums had started a roll. I think we all knew as soon as he let go that it was going wrong. I yelled out so loud to him and yet, despite the noise of the audience and my own voice, the sound of the sickening thump his body made as it crashed to the ground will never leave me. He missed by…well, a hair’s breadth, so close were we to doing it perfectly. One of his legs caught my shoulder and I toppled together with him and down upon him.

  They were both crying freely now.

  The gods showed a small kindness. There was no pain or suffering. He was dead the moment he hit the ground.

  His voice fell silent in her head and his hands dropped from the reins. Still the horse and Kythay kept plodding forward. Alyssa reacted instinctively, reaching her arms around his wide body and hugging him fiercely. She stroked his hair, amazed at how soft it was, and then found herself gently kissing his stubbled cheek which was damp from tears. Without knowing why she did it, Alyssa turned his face and kissed him tenderly on the lips.

  She sensed his surprise but when he did not immediately pull away she could not help herself and added the passion and grief and loss she felt for him.

  Gently, ever so gently, he cupped her face in his large hands and pushed her lips away from his. With a great sadness in his handsome face, which she intuitively knew was nothing to do with his brother, he shook his head.

  No, my lovely Alyssa. I am not the one, he whispered.

  Alyssa felt as though she had been slapped.

  Sensing she was on the brink of a rush of embarrassed, angry words, Saxon closed the link and put his fingers to the lips he could still taste.

  He spoke aloud but softly. ‘I love you, Alyssa, but I am not allowed to love you in the way that you would like me to just now. There is another. He will come to you one day and you will know he is the right one.’ Saxon’s voice was steady and firm.

  She brushed her hand across her mouth to wipe away his kiss. She felt juvenile and inadequate.

  Saxon could sense this. ‘There is more to my tale, Alyssa. May I finish the story?’

  When she looked down and said nothing, he continued.

  He explained how, from a very young age, he had experienced a recurring dream about a particular woman. Even though he never saw her, he knew she was very beautiful because her voice was like a crystal-clear brook, her fragrance like a spring meadow. She visited him frequently through his life and it was she who told him to follow Lute even though his inclination was to remain and continue in his father’s trade. He admitted he could not remember a time when the lady had not been in his life, telling him in his dreams about a curious group of ten people known as the Paladin. They were protectors, guardians; chosen from the most ancient people of Tallinor.

  ‘Who did they protect?’ Alyssa asked, fascinated now.

  ‘They guarded a dangerous prisoner. They protected the people he wanted to hurt.’

  Alyssa frowned. ‘And why did this speaker of dreams tell you all this?’

  ‘Because I am one of them,’ he said, a faraway look drifting across his face. Even his voice sounded clouded.

  He shook himself and continued with his story, explaining how after Lute’s death the dream woman had insisted he remain with the circus and take on responsibility for Greta and her children.

  ‘And you just did as she said?’

  ‘I had no reason not to, and nowhere else to go, Alyssa. Greta was newly widowed with five young children to care for. I felt responsible for Lute’s death. They had no act without me; even with me it was nothing special, but we worked hard on it. The boys especially gave everything after their father’s death and in a year or two we had a popular act again. Better perhaps than the original because I refused to take any risks and so we relied on theatre in our pieces.’

  ‘Go on,’ she said.

  ‘Well…that was it for several years. We travelled extensively around the Kingdom, performing and turning ourselves into a family. I became a father to the children—’

  ‘But never a husband to Greta?’ She hated the jealousy in her question.

  He flashed a smile and rubbed at his chin, self-consciously. ‘Once. But it didn’t feel right.’

  Alyssa felt a snarl of anger. So she had been correct. There was more to Greta’s hostility than just having another couple of mouths to feed.

  Saxon hurriedly pressed on. ‘We decided just to live alongside one another and not try to pretend anything. I admire and respect Greta and love the children and that’s how it should be. I will always consider this family my own.’

  ‘Well, hurry up and get to the bit that matters, Saxon. I’m no longer interested
in who you have lain with.’

  ‘Are you not?’ The wicked glint had returned to his eye.

  ‘No! Tell me the rest or just stop talking.’

  His brows knitted as he told the final part of his story.

  ‘I can pass over all those intervening years to just recently when we were approaching Fragglesham. I began to have the dreams again, each night rather than just now and then. I have never seen this woman, you must understand, but she has travelled with me since I was a young lad so I trust her totally.’

  He was looking intently at her now. Alyssa felt the hair rise on the back of her neck.

  ‘Her name is Lys. In all the years she has roamed my dreams, she has mentioned a young woman whom I was to look out for. I had heard it so often and for so long I had begun to stop paying any attention to it. She said this person was critical to the land’s future—I never understood it.’

  Alyssa wanted to stop him talking. Stop his voice and stop where this conversation was heading. It was no longer fascinating; it had become frightening. But he wouldn’t stop. Saxon’s voice continued slowly as the wagon rocked gently forwards in the night.

  ‘Just before we entered Fragglesham she appeared brighter, for want of a better word, in my dreams. I could almost swear I dreamed of nothing else but her and you, Alyssa. She told me you were close, that this meeting was what my whole life had been heading towards.’

  ‘Stop! Don’t say any more, Saxon. I don’t want to hear this.’

  Alyssa moved as if to jump down from the wagon but he grabbed her and linked.

  You will hear this because you must and you will not turn away from your destiny, as I haven’t turned from mine.

  You’re frightening me yet you say you love me.

  I do love you, Alyssa. And you must trust me.

  She sat back down on the wooden plank.

  There is not much more, he said, picking up the reins again—not that their horse or Kythay needed anything more than the wagon in front to follow.

  In the early hours of the day of the fire, just as I was stirring, she came to me. As usual I could not see her but her perfume was stronger than ever and her voice clear, as though she was lying beside me.

  Lys said that you would enter my life that night and I would know you immediately. Somehow, in that strange world between asleep and awake, she exacted my promise that I would protect you…with my life if necessary. I am one of the Paladin, she reminded me.

  He stopped talking and Alyssa took a much-needed deep breath. What in Light’s name did this mean?

  And did you know me, Saxon? I mean immediately?

  The instant I walked into the arena and glanced around the audience. There you were: your cheeks flushed with excitement, your hair shimmering, that yellow dress. I knew who you were and I felt at peace that I had found you at last.

  He shrugged again as if to say, the rest you know.

  They said nothing for some time.

  Finally she spoke. Did you know about Goth?

  No.

  She shook her head. Well, what are you supposed to protect me from…apart from him? I mean, you cannot expect me just to accept that your life has been dedicated to waiting for me…surely?

  But it has…and you must accept.

  Alyssa felt her anger rising. Was he being deliberately obtuse? Up ahead they could see a few of the others jumping off their wagons to walk alongside them and stretch their legs. It would be barely a minute or two before someone sauntered up to their wagon.

  Is there anything else you think I should know? she asked quickly.

  He squeezed her hand affectionately. You now know everything I do. From here on I have no idea what to expect or what is expected of me.

  He turned to the sword swallower who had dropped back to their wagon. ‘Ho, Caerys, why don’t you take over here for a while? I should check on my family.’

  Saxon hopped neatly off the wagon and strode ahead. Alyssa covered her confusion at the complex tale she had just heard and the rush of jealousy towards Greta by smiling sweetly at Caerys, who seemed overjoyed to be riding next to her.

  How do you fare, friend Nanak? Merkhud asked across the link.

  I fare well, Merkhud. You sound almost jolly for someone who carries such an enormous burden, ventured the Keeper.

  I am very, very happy today.

  Will you share your glee, Merkhud? The Light knows we could use some gladness in this forsaken place. He sounded tired.

  Merkhud brought news of such import he knew it would send Nanak’s spirits soaring. It was everything the Keeper of the Paladin had given his life to hear.

  Nanak, he said gravely, Saxon has shown himself!

  Don’t toy with me, growled the normally quiet voice.

  I jest not, my friend. I promise you, Saxon has emerged.

  Tell me, the Keeper whispered in awe.

  Saxon the Kloek—to us, the Sixth—is now Alyssa’s travelling companion. You need not know the details; only that he has been reborn and is with her.

  Saxon…Nanak wanted to repeat the name over and over. The brave, mighty Kloek who had withstood the pain so long; withstood the onslaught of Orlac’s whisperings and powers over decades…only to fall.

  Merkhud gave him silence for a while. He knew what this meant to the Keeper.

  Then he said, Saxon is in a circus. Apparently he’s very good.

  It was the first time, Merkhud thought, he had ever heard Nanak laugh. It was a lovely sound. He prayed he would hear it again someday.

  They’re coming back, Nanak. All of them—I promise you this. I understand it now. They flee Orlac to surround those who will save us. You must hold strong. Beg, cajole, command that Figgis and Themesius and especially Arabella hold for me. I have work to do yet; I must have the time to shape this plan.

  I will give you that time, Merkhud. We all will. And promise me—you will speak to this falcon they call Cloot and you will tell him that Nanak is proud of him. Tell him the Paladin are proud of him.

  But, Nanak, he does not speak. He has shown no sign of any power.

  Say the words to him, Merkhud. He will understand if he is Cloot of the Paladin.

  The link closed but this time with a sense of true hope for the first time in several centuries of despair.

  15

  Goth’s Revenge

  It was two moons before Cirq Zorros arrived at Bebberton on the fringe of the famed city of Ildagarth. It had been a happy and uneventful journey; they had performed in some of the smaller towns and enjoyed a new level of success wherever they appeared. The shock of the fire was not fully behind the troupe but the healing had begun and the spirits of all were lifting. Word of their losses had spread around the Kingdom swiftly and audiences had been generous.

  Zorros was convinced that the circus would be able to replace some of its precious animals by Newleaf and he had already commissioned new canvases and awnings to be created, such was his optimism. Everyone was thrilled when the Mayor of Ildagarth welcomed the circus and insisted it must stay as long as it pleased—at the city’s expense— in the area known as the Crook, a beautiful meadow barely an hour’s journey from the city centre. This was an unheard-of generosity.

  The Mayor presented the circus with a letter from King Lorys himself, who had been made aware of the tragedy at Fragglesham and was adding his own personal welcome to Ildagarth.

  Saxon was astonished by all the goodwill. ‘He’s a good man,’ he said of the King.

  ‘Oh, you’ve met him?’ Alyssa teased. Her comment even brought a brief smile to Greta’s normally pinched expression.

  ‘No. But I know it. I’ve seen him, watched him. He cares about his people and this proves it.’

  They were watching Zorros make formal acceptance of the King’s letter. People had turned out to cheer them and they were forced to shout over the applause.

  ‘I’d consider him a far better King if he’d stop persecuting people,’ Alyssa yelled.

  Some of the others nod
ded. ‘He could so easily overturn the ancient law which allows people like Goth to rampage anywhere they want in the Kingdom, maiming and killing anyone he thinks doesn’t fit into his idea of society. There has been no sanctuary offered for such people.’ More people nodded. Alyssa continued. ‘If Goth and his thugs decide your family’s talent on the high wire is magically inspired, he could hide behind that law and disband you at best and kill you if he pleased. Is that a good King who allows this?’

  Alyssa knew she should stop. Sorrel had touched her arm in a gesture meant to prevent her saying any more so she was relieved when Saxon backed down.

  ‘Well, you’re right of course. I don’t understand that law.’ He switched to the link. Hopefully, with Goth dead, his troop of cowards may be disbanded.

  Then I would think highly of our King. She smiled to let him know she held no grudge but added: Until then, I despise him.

  Alyssa’s mood was low. The moment she had been dreading had arrived: she just did not know how to say farewell to Saxon and the circus she had called home these past months. Sorrel had explained they would part company with Cirq Zorros this morning. Their final destination at Caremboche was just a half day’s walk from Ildagarth but it might as well have been an eternity away for Alyssa. Even if the circus stayed in the city for many weeks, she knew this was probably the last time she would be close to Saxon.

  ‘Well, my girl,’ Sorrel said matter of factly, breaking into her cloudy thoughts, ‘we must continue our journey now. Better not prolong our farewells.’

  Sorrel beamed at those around her and began her goodbyes; hugging those she had come to know well and thanking others for their kindness. Alyssa felt sick. She followed Sorrel, trying to put on a brave face. She could see their few belongings piled on Kythay’s back. He was flicking his ears, anxious to leave the noise and smells of Bebberton.

  People hugged her and even Caerys finally plucked up the courage to kiss her. She didn’t have to look to know where Saxon was. Alongside Greta was where she knew he would be; standing at the back of the crowd, grinning his wide smile, encouraging her to be brave.