Le Cirque Navire

by Chele Cooke

  “So how are you going to find out?”

  Lachlan let out a sigh and glanced sideways at her. He placed the brush on the porch next to him.

  “Going down there tonight.”

  “You’re what?”

  With the smears gone, Lachlan held the boot up in front of him and examined it from every angle before putting it aside. He picked up the tub of boot-lac and the brush, and ran the bristles over its rim, splattering the oily lacquer into the tub and across the bottom step.

  “We need to get a layout and a good feel for how many we’re dealing with so we can organise a force. A few of the guys are going tonight as patrons in order to get a feel for it.”

  Hadley balanced her brush on the rim of the bucket and stared down at her wet boots. She’d never imagined that Lachlan would have been going to the cirque and yet she couldn’t decide whether this made things easier or more difficult. Knowing her brother’s reaction, she’d planned on slipping out after feigning a headache and taking an early night. If Lachlan was going to the cirque he might be more accepting of her desire to go along with him.

  “I want to go,” she said.

  Lachlan put the lid back on the tub of boot-lac, He made a show of fixing each latch carefully in place before he answered her.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “Why? You’re going.”

  “Only because it’s my job.”

  Hadley huffed and got to her feet. She tossed the brush down onto the step and lifted the bucket, overturning it into the deep gutter. Lachlan’s job was the most commonly used excuse for anything in their house. It was why Hadley had to be respectable, why Lachlan never seemed to do anything that resembled any kind of fun. Her brother had done a lot to make sure she had everything she needed, yet she couldn’t help but feel resentful that what he thought she needed hardly ever coincided with what she wanted. At the age of twenty-one, she was still treated like a child.

  “Look, you’re not taking it down tonight, are you?” she asked. He shook his head. “Then let me go tonight. You’ll be there anyway. I can keep an eye out in case anyone from the cirque realises why you’re there.”

  “What?” he asked. “How would they know that?”

  “It’s a cirque, Lachlan,” she insisted. “They have, you know, psychics and stuff.”

  Lachlan pushed himself to standing and glared down at her.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, Hadley. The people on that ship are criminals and tricksters. They are here to take our money and nothing more. There are no such things as psychics.”

  “Then there’s no reason I can’t go,” she argued.

  Grumbling under his breath, Lachlan glared down at her before letting out a heavy sigh.

  “Fine,” he said. “But you stay by my side all night. That’s not negotiable.”

  Hadley grinned.

  “I’ll not sneeze without your permission.”

  He grabbed his boots by the laces and stalked into the house, leaving damp-sock footprints across the floor. Despite having cleaned off her boots, she felt like she’d trailed more than mud into their tidy home.

  Lachlan left his gun at home. He usually didn’t go anywhere without a weapon as he never knew when and where he would need to make an arrest, even off duty. Tonight, however, he decided that it was best to be unarmed as they headed out towards the Cirque. He didn’t want to risk being spotted for a soldier. He had chosen his clothes carefully, including his lack of holster.

  Hadley had hidden a snigger when she saw him and when he demanded to know what was wrong she commented that even without the gun, people would know what he was. His boots were too shiny. He’d scuffed his feet through the dust with every step after they left the house, which only made her laugh harder. When he caught her looking at him, her smile was mocking but affectionate.

  As they passed through the perimeter fence, Lachlan had to restrain himself from calling in a post left unattended. The gate guards usually finished when the gates were locked but it bristled him none the less. He bowed his head and gritted his teeth, ignoring the mutters of people around him that it was lucky the gate had been mysteriously left open.

  Whilst Hadley had mocked him for wearing his smart clothes, it seemed that everyone had made an effort. Groups of men and women streamed south out of the city in their best clothes. Children ran amongst the growing wheat until their parents scolded them and warned them of what would happen if they got their clothes dirty. Complaints about the length of the walk were thrown back and forth and more than once he heard a child asking how much further it would be. Lachlan judged that it wouldn’t be that much further but earlier in the day there had been four of them and they’d made much better time.

  “It’ll be interesting to see how they’ve fitted out the ship,” Hadley said.

  She was staring at the horizon where the bright ridge of stars on the spiral disc shone from just above the southern mountains. It was one of the few times of year when they could see it from Corapolvo and even as a child Hadley had loved the sight. She had liked it most when Lachlan brought her out of the city to view it, even though it had meant finding a weak spot of the fence and crawling through on their knees. Most of the year they settled for the distant stars that shone from other galaxies, pin-pricks in amongst the velvet dark. It was fitting that they could see the galaxy disk in all its beauty on a night when the central planets had delivered their finest debauchery as well.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “Well, most ships are segmented and sectioned off for safety. Lots of walls and doors to slow the spread of damage.”

  “So? What’s your point?”

  She looked at him, a soft fond smile on her lips.

  “So, where are they going to fit a ring for acts if it’s all sectioned off?”

  “Maybe they’ll have set up tents outside like those traditional cirques.”

  Hadley shrugged but she didn’t say any more. She turned back to the starry horizon and walked in silence. He wondered whether she was disappointed by the idea of the traditional tents. Hadley liked ships and he supposed she’d find it frightfully annoying if she wasn’t allowed a look around this one.

  Personally, Lachlan would have preferred a traditional cirque, down on the ground in tents and hay bale rings. He’d never see one but for on the screen of a litcom, but it looked civilised and proper. He hadn’t liked the look of the rides. Even on the litcom they had looked too big, too flashy.

  The end of the tall wheat came abruptly. The thin path opened up into a vast expanse. Only, instead of ploughed land or untouched earth, an acre of uneven stalks sprouted out before them.

  “This is Francis’ land, isn’t it?” he heard someone ask ahead of them. “Think he knows?”

  Lachlan scoured the ground. The stalks had been crunched and flattened under a herd of boots. Now that they weren’t destroying crops, the townsfolk spread from the thin path and spilled out across the field. This had been done recently and without care. The stalks were cut a good six inches higher than a skilled farmer would do and the sweeps of blades were in arcs instead of tractor treads. Someone had used hand-held blades to cut this field, and as he looked ahead, he was pretty sure he knew who.

  The cirque grounds rose before them. A tall black fence spread to both sides and a large wrought iron gate stood directly before the crowd as they neared. Small tents dotted the ground just inside the fence line, getting progressively bigger and grander, leading the eye to the main attraction.

  The small tents were as colourful as a summer storm rainbow and shone just as bright. Lamps had been lit inside to send glows of green and red and purple through the evening air. Lachlan also thought they’d added some other kinds of effects, for it had not been the weather that settled mist over the ground, glowing in the light of the lamps. Strings of tiny lights bowed back and forth across a wide path just inside the gate, a canopy of silver stars close enough to touch. Large bell jars hung just inside the fe
nce filled with flittering golden firefly lights. Tall posts were hammered into the ground at what looked like intersections of paths and flags as colourful as the tents flapped in the breeze. It looked like some kind of magical dream, nothing like what he’d seen when he’d been here hours before.

  The air smelled of cooked corn and sugar. The scent of tart, refreshing lemonade wafted in amongst the crowd and Lachlan salivated at the thought. Carts selling food, drinks, and toys were set up all along the path, their wares displayed proudly before the waiting crowd.

  There wasn’t a person in sight behind the fence.

  Each sight led the eye further into the grounds beyond the gates. A set of juggling batons lay in wait in the centre of the trodden paths, pointing upwards.

  When he had been here in the late afternoon the ship had been cloaked to reflect the ground and sky around it. Lachlan gulped as he looked up at the ship now. Without having to pick out each shimmering outline against the sky the ship looked twice as big, and against the black sky, so much more beautiful. The cloaking devices had been altered and did not show the metal of the ship hidden beneath. Above the peaks of the tents, a galaxy hovered just above the ground, shifting and swirling. White and yellow diamond stars crept across the black surface, glimmering far brighter than the real stars of the spiral ridge. Amethyst swirls of light followed the curved arms of the disks while shooting stars appeared and vanished in blinks of the eye.

  For the first time on the tiny outlying planet of Corapolvo, they stood in the centre of a galaxy swirling around them.

  A deep and reverent hush fell over the crowd and even Lachlan Tack, Captain in the Coalition Army and protector of their laws, stood in awe.

  The crowd that had gathered outside the gates were restless. Children grasped the chain link fence and pressed their noses so far through the gaps that the diamond mesh resembled muzzles around their small faces. Rumours and guesswork winged through most of the conversation. They made hopeful suggestions on what to see first and shared what they wished they would find inside.

  The citizens of Corapolvo had clearly made an effort in attending the cirque. People brought out their best wherever the ship touched down. With so little to celebrate, especially on the outlying planets, people took the opportunity to dress up and show off. When they visited the central planets, it wasn’t surprising to find women in ball gowns watching the liberty horses, or men in tuxedos wandering between the acts. On Corapolvo there were no tuxedos or extravagant dresses. Old patched jackets had been hastily dusted off, faded dresses had been pinned in place, and children had been forced into smart clothes that they hadn’t quite grown into, or had recently grown out of. Their faces were pink from being scrubbed, their hair stiff and tugged back into respectable styles.

  The sun had not yet taken the heat with it. Annalise lifted her shawl from her shoulders, waving the material in the hopes of catching a breeze against her skin. The scarf around her forehead was damp with sweat and the bronze tokens hanging from it slid across her skin with every movement. She hated the outfit, she thought it looked gaudy and over the top, but Mr. Hatliffe was adamant that she wear it. While he knew she could do her job perfectly well without all the extra puffery, the customers liked it.

  She wasn’t supposed to be seen. Mr. Hatliffe was always very strict on that rule. The tents and stalls were meant to abandoned, though Annalise knew each midway performer and seller was hidden inside. Misty smoke, as thin as the frost in winter and as mischievous as the wind, crept across the ground. It billowed up around the tents and carts, obscuring and highlighting them to the delight and curiosity of the crowd.

  She stood behind one of the taller tents, peeking out to gaze longingly at the small children, so excited and impatient. They were the same everywhere they went. The only thing more beautiful than the anticipation before the show was the wonder as they left. Their urgency to relive just one more act that they would never forget was only overcome by their drooping eyes, held awake long past their bedtimes. Annalise smiled, wishing that she could remember her own wonder the first time she had seen the ship and the wash of jewel-coloured tents surrounding it.

  A small girl stared at her from behind her mother’s skirt. Her eyes were wide, saucers filled to the brim with excitement and terror. Annalise glanced around. No one else seemed to have noticed her. Looking back to the young girl, Annalise placed a finger to her lips. In a swirl of dark hair and a tinkling of bronze tokens, she slipped further behind the tent and out of sight.

  The first thing Annalise spotted was his top hat. Black as midnight with a band of crimson silk wound around the base just above the lip. Almost invisible until up close, a scene of a cirque had been etched into the silk band, so well-drawn it moved as he did. The Ferris wheel twinkled and turned and aerialists spun under the flicker of lights.

  Beyond the gates, hisses of excitement heralded his arrival. They pointed and nudged their neighbours as the hat, face, and shoulders emerged out of the smoke. Children squealed and tugged on shirts and sleeves, only to be hushed by parents almost as excited as they were.

  His eyebrow twitched as he passed her but the ringmaster gave no other indication that he had noticed her hiding place. He tugged the sleeves of his crushed velvet jacket and as he stepped towards the crowd, even straightening his clothes looked like a rehearsed part of the show. Annalise shivered.

  The crowd fell silent, not a breath between them. The ringmaster stood before them, his shiny black boots still half submerged in smoke and swirling mist. His gaze swept over the crowd. He smiled at the children and lifted his hat to give a great, swooping bow.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, and my most honoured children,” he greeted, placing his hat back on his head.

  His voice carried over the crowd easily. A ripple of excitement passed visibly through the people watching. Mr. Hatliffe paused for a moment and smiled.

  “This is the moment you did not know you had been waiting for. Le Cirque Navire is here for your perusal, your enjoyment, and maybe even your obsession,” he suggested with a wickedly charming grin. “Once these gates open, you may explore anything your heart desires. You may discover new wonders or be tempted by something your heart has been missing all these long years.”

  Men grinned and shared looks with their friends. Everyone had heard they had liquor in the cirque. Annalise wouldn’t have been surprised if the liquor was the main reason some of them had come. It had been a long time since the laws were passed.

  Mr. Hatliffe stepped forwards, leaning down to look at some of the children pressing their faces against the mesh.

  “Our gates will close the moment the sun shows its face,” he said to them. “And be warned. Should you be within our fence after then, we may just ask our illusionist to magic you away with a flick of his hand.”

  He snapped his fingers and red sparks cracked out of his fingertips. The children squealed, jumping back before pressing even harder into the fence. A few adults giggled. Annalise shuddered and chewed her lip. Mr. Hatliffe continued down the line, baring his perfect white teeth to the very girl who had spotted Annalise behind the tent.

  “Or perhaps we will feed you to the lions.”

  The girl disappeared behind her mother’s skirt. A deep chuckle bounced in the air and the girl’s father laid his hand on her head. Mr. Hatliffe straightened up and faced the crowd. From the size of it, it seemed the entire city had shown up.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Le Cirque Navire.”

  The gates opened on their own. They swung inwards as he spread his arms, opening a wide gap in the fence which was immediately filled with swarming townsfolk. All around them, midway sellers popped up in their stalls. Roaming performers appeared seemingly from nowhere. A blast of fire billowed and roared in the sky before disappearing. Cole Hafliffe had vanished.

  Annalise wandered through the crowd. The tokens that dangled from her sash jingled with each over-exaggerated sway of her hips. Under the blasts of firelight and the glow of
stringed lanterns, her clothes shimmered, drawing attention from the people as she passed. As usual, the women seemed more interested in her appearance in the crowd than the men. Young women were especially enamoured and would ask whether they would find someone to love. It would take a while for patrons to work their way through the midway and into the ship and so she had a short time in which to amble through the crowds before making her way back to where she would perform her readings. Every stop was the same.

  She moved closer to the gates, taking note of the people who passed her. Some thought the cirque charlatans and swindlers and Annalise knew better than to offer to perform a reading for that sort. They were best left to the big spectacles where skill was evident and nobody had to question any sort of spiritual intervention.

  One such man was moving past her. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets and, despite his attempts at looking casual, his dark blue eyes flickered around constantly, taking in things that most missed entirely. His lips pressed into a thin line and he glanced over his shoulder, nodding to a woman a step behind him. The young woman pushed herself up onto her toes to whisper in his ear.

  She could not have looked more different from the man she accompanied. But upon looking closer, she saw that they shared attributes. Standing side by side it was clear that they were siblings though there was easily some half-dozen years between them. But that was where the resemblance stopped. While he looked suspicious, she gazed in wide-eyed excitement. Where he seemed uncomfortable and stiff, she gave an impression of warmth and acceptance.

  As a small group of excitable women rounded on Annalise, begging for a reading, she reached behind her neck and rubbed a curious itch between her shoulder blades. She nodded kindly to the women and ushered them back towards the ship, but not before she glanced over her shoulder, back to the man and his sister.

  She couldn’t remember exactly, perhaps it had been in the haze between sleep and waking, but she had the distinct impression that she’d seen that young woman before.