Le Cirque Navire

by Chele Cooke

  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d talked about his parents. He couldn’t even remember the last time anyone had mentioned them to him. They knew it made him upset, knowing how he’d had to struggle to overcome their legacy, both for himself and for Hadley. Hadley had been too young, she hadn’t understood. He made sure she never had to.

  “Ran off on some liquor hitch,” he continued with a sigh. It felt good to say it, to admit it. “Didn’t even say goodbye. Thought they could sneak out while we were asleep.”

  Jack stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to look at him. His charming smirk was gone and he frowned in a way that Lachlan thought looked like he understood.

  “Damn,” he said finally. “I’m sorry.”

  Lachlan brushed his pity aside and ducked past him.

  “I was sixteen. Worked hard after that. Made sure no one would ever think I was the same as them.”

  “You’ve not seen them since?”

  Lachlan shook his head adamantly.

  “Was why I took the job with the Coalition. Why I made sure I got a promotion as soon as I was able. No one ever thinks boring Lachlan Tack is a criminal like his good-for-nothing parents. Made sure no one thought it of Hadley either, though that’s more difficult.”

  He looked at Jack and rolled his eyes, though the motion made his stomach clench.

  “She’s rowdy,” he whispered as if it were a dirty secret. “She reminds me of my dad. He was all life and energy.”

  “Your sister seems alright,” Jack assured him.

  “She is, she is,” he agreed. “But people still wonder, so I’ve got to make sure it’s shut down. Why I came here tonight, to figure out how to take this place down tomorrow. If I take down a cirque, no one will ever question my sister again!”

  Lachlan beamed easily, turning his attention away from the man beside him. He slotted his hands into his pockets and bounced on the balls of his feet, striding through the crowd heading to the big top, Jack hurrying along in his wake. The other man didn’t ask any more about his mission to capture the cirque, nor did he push for more information about his parents. He steered Lachlan towards the corridor to the right.

  “West!” A voice shouted over the crowd, a hand waving over their heads. The man eased his way past people towards them.

  Jack turned towards the voice, but Lachlan had no interest in it. There were much more enjoyable things to do tonight than listen to conversations between the employees. Spotting a lemonade stand, he grinned and set off towards it.

  He could do with another drink to rid himself of the dryness in his mouth, and then he’d go to find Hadley.

  Once the main ring was in performance again and his presence no longer required to introduce the acts, Cole slipped from the ring and out to the backyard where only performers and ship hands were allowed. The advance man, Western, had taken a customer back there because she felt ill, or so he said. Everyone on the ship knew of the relationship between the advance man and Annalise Romero, their fated fortune teller. It surprised him somewhat that the young man was frolicking around with some groundling while his girlfriend was busy earning her keep.

  The fact he’d done it while under strict orders to look after the soldier was something else, but after his words, he hoped the man would be quick to get back to his job. If not, well, Western was useful, but not so useful that he couldn’t be lost somewhere along the way of their next jump. Ship hands were like that, much easier lost than the performers with skill and gift. Western ranked higher than most of the ship hands with his talents, but not so important that he could think himself invincible.

  Still, now was not the time to worry about Western. He needed to do the rounds and make sure that things were running as smoothly in the outer areas of the cirque as they were in the main ring.

  He popped his head in on most of the acts throughout the evening, checking up on trouble and ensuring that customers were happy. They had reliable methods of ensuring that their customers got the most from their evening with them but it didn’t hurt to check in every now and again.

  The first trip had been to the mezzanine. Those areas were visited less frequently and the acts stationed there were often in varied states of being honed for the larger rings. They still received ample business, keeping them happy in tips on the central planets and free time on the outlying. People couldn’t afford as much out here as they could in the central. The coochie girls were especially happy with their lot, their customers visiting frequently and all too happy to pay for the privilege. Men of the outlying planets saw late night entertainment so infrequently that he doubted his girls needed to work very hard to earn their coins and appreciation.

  Since the second call to the main ring, he’d not had a chance to slip out until after everything was set up. So, in his break from his stage presence, he set out towards the midway to see the performers and vendors outside the ship. These gained lots of business and held heavily sought after placement. All of the customers passed them on their way into the main ring and on their way home again, so they often earned far better than those in the more obscure areas of the ship. He tried to ensure that all got the business they needed, but it was no secret that the way to the midway was through his preference.

  The menagerie was particularly good business, though it rarely saw much money change hands. Customers who visited the menagerie were always pleased with the exotic animals. Even if it hadn’t been a decent attraction, there was no other area in which to hold the animals for their performances. They couldn’t get an elephant up those spiralled staircases, after all. None the less, it seemed to be in good shape tonight, even if Clint, the menagerie man, had seemed much quieter than usual. He was always happiest with his animals and Cole had seen him talking to them on more than one occasion. The time he’d seen him picking fleas from one of the chimps had been particularly alarming but he paid it no mind. They’d brought him onto the ship to take care of the animals because he had an affinity for them. There was no reason to look down on him for the same reason.

  He strode out towards the midway, the taste of clean air spiced with cinnamon, sugar, and the tang of lemon. He took a deep breath, drawing in the sweet scent, and relished it. He didn’t mind the stale quality the air inside the ship took on mid-jump, not as much as some of the other men. He’d been at this too long to notice it. It was only when the air was fresh and clear that he truly remembered.

  Waiting outside the velvets for a moment, he listened for the whispers that would slide through the heavy fabric. He realised from the silence that his fortune teller was, for the moment, alone. He tugged back the heavy drape and bowed his head as he stepped inside, placing his hand atop his tall hat to ensure it was not dislodged.

  “Miss Romero,” he greeted.

  She sat back in her chair, turning her scarf in her fingers. The medallions jingled with each turn as she stared blankly at the cloth covered wall. Her thick dark hair fell in soft ringlets woven with braids over her shoulders and for a moment she looked utterly at peace. He waited for her response but there was none. He let go of the velvet, letting the soft material slide from his fingers as he stepped forward.

  “Annalise?” he asked.

  Even when he used her first name she still stared, oblivious to his presence. This, he realised, did not bode well. Cole slapped his hand down on the table before her. A deck of tarot cards jumped off the tablecloth and landed again, ruffled from their neat placement.

  “Anna!” he snapped.

  She blinked and looked up, sweeping her hair behind her ear. There was a moment, a brief moment, where she looked lost and confused. She blinked again and the expression vanished, her senses returning to her. She smiled courteously and pushed her chair back.

  “Mr. Hatliffe,” she said. “I’m sorry, I was…”

  “Are you alright, my dear?”

  Annalise beamed reassuringly and nodded.

  “Yes, yes, I am fine,” she said in her melodic, soothing voice. �
��I’ve been very busy this evening. I just got a little lost in my thoughts.”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Cole said, though even as the words came to his lips, he didn’t believe them.

  He’d seen it before. He’d seen it too many times, truth be told. There were those who lasted a long time, decades if they were careful, but there were also those who used their gifts far too frequently. They lost themselves in it and he had to go searching once again. He’d not thought he was anywhere near that point yet but now he wasn’t so sure.

  “How has your evening been?” he asked. “Any interesting readings? Funny stories you’ll be sharing with us on the jump?”

  Annalise blushed and looked away. The girl rarely spoke about her customers. She was moral in that way, no matter how hard the others on the ship tried to pry it from her. The others shared stories as easily as they shared their bread and liquor. The shared the funny stories and the awkward customers. They mocked the backwards towns and small-minded locals. Every story was cheerful. Nobody liked to be depressed at the dinner tables.

  “There was one,” she said shyly after a moment. “A girl. She’s a sister to a soldier here.”

  Cole drew back the chair opposite her and took a seat. He wondered if any of the crew had ever tried to gain a reading from the pretty fortune teller. He wouldn’t have been surprised if some of the men had tried letting her into their futures in exchange for her letting them into her bed. He wondered idly if that was how Western had done it.

  “A soldier?”

  “Tack,” she nodded. “A Captain. He’s very serious and a stickler for the rules, but loving. At least, that is how his sister views him.”

  He sat up straighter, leaning forwards onto the table. Tack was the man he had sent Western after. The soldier was currently working his way through their cirque, far too close for comfort, especially if Romero’s assessment was to be believed, which it usually was.

  “And what was this interesting reading?” he asked. His tone was not to be denied. This was not some gossip or chance to earn a laugh over their wine. This was his business and he needed to make sure that it ran smoothly.

  She turned her attention back to the scarf. She turned it in her hands, sliding the disks through her fingers.

  “I saw her with Jack,” she said. “She was able to see him far more than most.”

  Cole cocked his head to the side, considering her words. Jack Western had an interesting talent, even before he’d come to them. Cole had made sure to nurture his gift with a little of his own, but it had been a blessing to have someone like him around when needed. Sometimes the boy got a little big for his boots but Cole was always quick to put him back into his place with a reminder of what he would be returning to if he happened to displease him. Still, the fact this girl was able to circumvent his talent was curious, to say the least.

  “And?”

  Annalise placed the scarf down in front of him. The motion was careful and precise. She straightened it against the patterned tablecloth and lifted her head to meet his gaze.

  “I saw her far more easily than I see most,” she admitted. “And it’s not the first time.”

  The chair legs scraped against the metal as he pushed himself back from the table.

  “You’ve seen the girl before?”

  She nodded.

  “A few days before we arrived. I didn’t know her name and I’d never met her before that, which usually I need to see further, but I saw her on the ship.”

  Very gently, Annalise placed her fingers on the scarf and pushed it towards him.

  “She was wearing this.”

  Cole was on his feet before the last word was out of her mouth. The chair clattered backwards, lifted from the floor and dumped back down in his haste. He grabbed the scarf in a tight fist.

  “What?” he demanded. “You saw a girl taking your very position and you did not see fit to tell me?”

  “I… I didn’t…”

  “Stupid girl!” Cole snapped, flinging the scarf at her. “Where is she now?”

  Annalise caught the scarf and held it against her chest. She pushed her own chair backwards and got to her feet, backing away from him.

  “I don’t know,” she squeaked. “I saw her almost an hour ago. I don’t know where she went.”

  Cole was across the space in two strides. He grasped her shoulder and forced her around to face him.

  “Look!”

  Her shoulders trembled under his grasp and her gaze flickered over his face as if hoping to see something that would take away his words. Cole made sure to rarely ask her to look for things. She saw things naturally, the way she was supposed to, when her gift brought them to her instead of reaching out to catch them. Sometimes he would ask her if things looked prosperous for them at the next hitch but he was just humouring her. Every time he asked she would answer that things looked good and he knew that she was humouring him too.

  Annalise had always been somewhat afraid of him, even if she didn’t realise it. She’d always shrunk away from him, been the quickest to fall silent when he made his presence known. She wasn’t a combative person. She never had been, even before she joined the ship. It had been all too easy to lure her away from her boring little life.

  He gave her a gentle, encouraging smile.

  “Look,” he told her again, leaning in close.

  Annalise met his gaze, shivering at his proximity. She looked away and shrank under his grasp, closing her eyes. Gritting her teeth, she scrunched her eyes as hard as she could. After a moment the trembling stopped.

  “She’s watching the horses,” she said finally, opening her eyes. “In the ring.”

  He released her. Looking up at him, her gaze was hopeful. She probably wanted him to tell her that it was enough, that she’d pleased him. He wasn’t about to tell her that. She had done her job, nothing more. It wasn’t his job to have to pat her on the head and call her a good girl just because she had done exactly what he hired her for.

  Without a word, he turned and stalked away from her. Sweeping the velvet out of his way, he left Annalise Romero alone in the reading room.

  Lachlan stumbled as the man stormed past him, muttering under his breath. He caught himself against the wall and pushed himself up, turning to glance after the man who had knocked him. The top hat wobbled precariously on the man’s head and Lachlan watched as he whipped it off, letting the black silk hat dangle from his fingers as he stomped angrily through the crowd, pushing people aside.

  Chuckling, Lachlan wavered where he stood, looking around. He didn’t know how anybody could be so angry here. There was so much to see, so much to do. Some of the other patrons had been excited about the alcohol, but Lachlan couldn’t see why. Why did you need to intoxicate yourself on liquor when the skill of the performers was intoxicating enough? He hadn’t drunk liquor since he was sixteen, sneaking it around the back of the tavern with José and Fred, and yet tonight, though he’d drunk nothing but lemonade, the excitement gave him the same high. It had been the best lemonade he’d ever tasted, so cold and sweet that it tickled his tongue. So refreshing after the room temperature cordial he was used to drinking at home and work.

  Lachlan braced himself against the wall and watched the angry man disappear into the crowds. He didn’t think he’d been heading in this direction before and perhaps, if he saw the man with the top hat, he could tell him to relax and enjoy the show.

  He was back at the room with aerialists bending and spinning above him. He must have gotten turned around and walked back the direction he’d come. Staring up at the women, he tripped his way through the low maze of cushions and bodies. Despite wanting to stay and watch them for the rest of the night, he forged his way onwards.

  The corridors were quieter now and Lachlan wondered where all the children had disappeared to. They had been everywhere when the gates opened. He brushed the thought away. He’d not been outside in a while and it was likely late enough that their parents had taken them home. At least, he
hoped so, because more adults were stumbling along in front of him in despicable displays of intoxication. One man was slumped against the wall, a bright red juggling baton clutched in his arms like a toy bear as he snored loudly. Lachlan sniggered, considering shouting in his ear but he simply stepped over the man’s legs and continued on.

  Where the corridor opened up into a high domed room, women draped themselves over the balcony, calling seductively down to the men below them. They wore silk so thin that Lachlan had to avert his gaze, a blush as crimson as the aerialist’s silks sweeping across his cheeks. One of the women propped her leg up on the railing and leaned further over. Her breasts were so large that Lachlan thought they could not be real, and yet they swelled so far from the tightly laced corset that he both feared and hoped they would spill free at any moment. He gaped up at her.

  “Enjoy a dance, handsome?” she asked, waving fingers decorated with rings in his direction.

  Lachlan took a step forwards, craning his neck to keep his gaze fixed on her. She smiled with the sweetness of honey and warmth flooded his stomach. He took another step through the thinning crowd, glancing desperately around for the stairs. The woman beamed and glanced at her friends, who watched him with interest. She pointed off to the left and Lachlan followed her direction.

  All around him, people beamed from ear to ear. They muttered excitedly and told tales of the things they had seen. He pushed his way past a man and his young wife, who giggled at his boasts that he could juggle just as many balls as the man on the midway. Lachlan turned to watch them go, his own destination forgotten. It wasn’t so bad. The Coalition were strict with their rules, claiming that order kept peace, and yet Lachlan had never seen so many people so happy. Perhaps it was different on the central planets where decadence came so frequently that they’d forgotten what it was like to be truly excited by it, to enjoy it for what it was. The citizens of Corapolvo had a downtrodden look to them, a plodding and weary rhythm to their lives. Was it so wrong that they have a little fun now and again?