by Pia Morrow
“Lia, you’re up,” said a bored voice. Kiana appeared from behind the modesty blinds in the performers’ tent. Like Myra, she could tell just by the pull and rise of the music exactly what part of the show was in progress by now. Myra sometimes thought she’d be able to tell by the feel in the air alone, that unmistakable energy the audience always transferred to their surroundings.
Lia’s tears immediately seemed to dry, and she was all business now, though Myra could still hear her muttering man-ward driven expletives under her breath as she rushed out of the tent for her trapeze act. She’d perform it perfectly, Myra knew. Once they were out in the ring, every performer seemed to leave behind the sorrow and tribulations of their lives and assume a new identity.
She mouthed thank god at Kiana, who laughed as she was rolling her eyes. Lia and her man seemed to part ways every other month. Somehow, they always found their way back to each other, and he always found himself in another lady’s affections, much to her eternal frustration.
“Why does she always go back to him?” Myra grumbled to Kiana. “I’m sick of hearing about it, you know one day she’s actually going to miss her cue.”
Kiana shrugged. “Love does weird things to people.”
“I guess.” Myra busied herself with clearing up shed costumes and various messes littering the ground in the performers’ tent. She didn’t really have to do this anymore. These days her aunt trusted her with some of the more important responsibilities of running the circus. But a lifetime of tidying up after others was hard to break out of. It was better than simply staring at Kiana. She had graduated to another red dress as she’d grown older, this one rather skimpier than walking across a tightrope strictly required, but she still managed to look eternally graceful and elegant in it. Since their awkward childhood days, much of her on-rope grace had transferred to her ground self as well. Myra remained much the same, just a little taller, her auburn hair winding down to her waist now. She hadn’t grown in grace, not a bit. “You talk like you know about love.” What she really wanted to say was, was what you did with Phinn the Unicyclist behind the tent after last week’s show an effect of post-show cheer and gin, or was it something more?
Much to her relief, Kiana laughed. “You know the rope and you and the only ones in my heart, Myra.” She said it as a joke, even so, Myra felt relieved. She wasn’t sure why she cared so much, but recently it terrified her, the idea of her oldest - her only friend, really, finding her Great Love and leaving her to grow old and alone, still dabbing at Lia’s makeup and commiserating as an old lady.
Kiana didn’t ask Myra about her experiences in love. They both knew that was a dud, a non-starter. There had been awkward fumbles in the dark with various people over the years, but no one had ever shown more than a cursory interest in her, nor she in them. She was the sweet, kiddish kind, despite being well into her twenties now. She wasn’t like Kiana. People became quite enthralled with her, both men and women. Myra never wished for that kind of charm - what a burden it seemed - but she worried that one day it would strike true and take her friend away from her.
“Why do you look so troubled?” Kiana was sitting on one of the makeup tables. She reached out a long leg and gently nudged Myra with her foot when she didn’t immediately answer.
She thought up a problem, quickly. “Do you think all these new laws, the ones making those with mage blood register, will really come into effect? Everyone says circus people are tinged with magic, maybe people will stop coming.”
Kiana looked thoughtful. “How would they even enforce something like that? Can they really go around asking everyone who their parents are? And who would be stupid enough to admit even if they had a long-lost great uncle who was a mage, or the like.”
Myra fiddled with the tassel on a fez she had just retrieved from the ground. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. And Aunt Elba is careful, these days, about who she hires. We used to have a few people who could do…unnatural tricks. But those days are over.”
“And rightly so,” Kiana said with a shudder.
“You know,” Myra admitted. “I used to think you were touched by magic, just a little bit.”
Kiana nearly fell off the desk. “Why on Earth?”
She felt her face heat. “Oh, you know. You just turned up from nowhere like that.”
“Everyone here turned up from nowhere.”
“Well…you weren’t everyone. The way you moved on that rope…”
Kiana still looked a bit discomfited.
“Obviously, I know you aren’t now! I don’t think a real mage would be quite so messy.” She neatened Kiana’s station as she came to it, out of reflex.
Kiana gave a half-smile. “I suppose I should take it as a compliment. Even then, you were a bit bewitched by me.”
Myra froze at that. She couldn’t mean - .
The music from the main tent reached its choppy crescendo.
Kiana sighed and slid off the table. “That’s me then.” She had just been joking. Hopefully. “You know, sometimes I think about how I’m going to be doing this until I grow too old and ugly for it, and then what? What else can I do in this life?”
It was uncharacteristically glum for her, though she said it lightly, like she said everything.
“Anything you want,” Myra said softly. Stay by my side, she thought.
Kiana didn’t hear. “See you later,” she called as she walked out.
Myra watched her until her silhouette disappeared behind the tent flap and sighed. She continued tidying for something to do until the show ended.
* * *
They were in this town, Eltside, for the rest of the week. It was a busier place than their usual small towns, where they would usually spend only two or three days before they’d exhausted the numbers who would come. Up on the hill in the distance was a keep. It made Myra nervous, the thought of soldiers near. They came to the shows sometimes, rowdy and troublesome. They would hang around and get handsy with the female performers, sometimes even her, if they noticed her. She hated shows in military towns.
When she woke up on the morning of the penultimate show and saw the soldiers dotted about the premises, though, something was different. They were not loud or boisterous, and they were here far too early for the show. They stayed away from the tents but in view. They were watching. She kept her eye on them as she went to get feed for the horses, and meat for the lions. They did nothing.
“What are they doing here?” she asked Aunt Elba when she was done. As always, the old lady was sitting by her books in the admin tent.
“Who?” She didn’t look up from her figures.
“The soldiers.”
She sighed. “I think I’ll have to let a few of the clowns go. Our numbers are down and they just aren’t the crowd drawers they used to be. People don’t want fun anymore, they want thrills, dances with death…gods know why…”
Her aunt had been preoccupied with their dwindling figures recently. But they still drew a steady enough crowd, despite the tensions surrounding magic. If they could only prove that they were mage-free, perhaps more people would give them a chance.
“Aunt Elba?” she said when her aunt remained quiet.
“The soldiers…well, they’re here for the show like everyone else, I imagine.”
“No, it’s different this time.”
“Perhaps. What will be will be.” She still would not look at her.
Myra knew she wouldn’t get anything out of her today, and left. Aunt Elba wasn’t ever cruel to her, per se. Perhaps a little, when she was in her cups, and when Myra had been younger and needier of love and affection. Mostly, she wasn’t much of anything to Myra, treating her like a long-time assistant, and she supposed that’s all she was. Gone were the days she would cling to her aunt’s skirts and beg for the tiniest scrap of attention or care. She had gathered it in crumbs from the performers instead, then she had found Kiana. But still, sometimes she felt a little sad that their blood relation didn’t seem to mean an
ything to her. She had stopped wanting a mother in the woman, but sometimes it would have been nice to at least have a friend in her, she thought.
The soldiers hung around the grounds until nighttime and then disappeared into the main tent with the rest of the crowd. After setting up the backstage area of the tent, she headed back to the performers’ tent where she found Lia, Kiana and Phinn the Unicyclist gathered in a small circle talking quietly. She ignored Phinn’s greeting as she joined them.
“There’s rumours,” Lia told her. “The soldiers have a new tool, for detecting mage blood.”
Myra felt a chill at this. “What kind of tool?”
“I don’t know,” Phinn said. “I heard the townspeople speaking of it but they were tightlipped the moment I pressed them for more. Seemed suspicious of me.”
“How silly,” Myra said. “As if you’d have mage blood.”
He looked a little offended at that, but she didn’t care. “Maybe that’s what they were hanging around like that for earlier. Here to do some digging.”
Kiana looked a little bored with the conversation. “Well, they won’t find anything, will they? Let’s hope they enjoy the show at least and tip heavily at the end.”
Lia giggled, her broken heart apparently mended. “I do hope so. I saw rather a tasty one hanging around our tent earlier.”
Myra made a face. Soon their talk ceased, and they went back to getting ready for their parts, and she went back into the main tent and watched the soldiers from backstage. They didn’t look particularly menacing from this close. Most were young, and they seemed to enjoy the show with good cheer, laughing and shouting and oohing and aahing at all the right parts. She left and continued with her work. It would be fine.
She stayed within the tent. It was unusually quiet. None of the acts were sticking around after their parts. She stayed until the show finished, grateful for the quiet. When you worked in a travelling circus, such times were exceedingly rare.
When the grand finale was finished, she left through the performers’ exit. As soon as she stepped outside, her senses screamed at her. Something was wrong. It was quiet. Much too quiet. Usually, there would be people milling about, performers and audience members alike. Now she saw the audience rushed from the tent, and away. There were no soldiers among them. They were all gathered in a small crowd, which was situated a few paces outside the performers’ tent. She could hear some voices raised in concern. Then silence.
As she approached, she heard snatches of conversation.
“…have no right to do this…”
“It’s that or be shut down.”
“…Yes, we quite understand, Sergeant. Do what you need to do, then be on your way.”
She drew up beside Kiana to see her Aunt Elba talking quite amiably to the soldier, an older man with a stony expression who radiated a sense of command.
“What’s happening?” she whispered to Kiana, whose face was set.
“Checks.” Her voice was low and fearful. “They’re carrying out checks.” Her hands twisted in front of her. She was nervous. Kiana was so rarely nervous. Without thinking, Myra took hold of one of her hands. She felt a grateful squeeze in response.
“How will you check?” Someone was asking. Ginta, the fire-eater.
The sergeant called another soldier carrying a small covered cage over to the group. “Arrange yourselves in a line,” he said in a voice that brooked no argument. He turned to three soldiers standing to attention by his side. “Ensure that there are no performers hiding elsewhere in the premises. Madame Elba. Fetch your employee books so that I might ensure everyone is present.” Aunt Elba left immediately, her usual air of imperiousness gone. Myra hadn’t felt frightened until she noticed that. She had never seen her aunt so pliant.
They arranged themselves in a line, though it took them some time. She felt Kiana shivering beside her. Most of the performers were not dressed for the late autumn chill that met them outside. She felt a sudden rush of anger towards the soldiers.
The sergeant took hold of the covered cage and slowly, reverently, he lifted the grey fabric which had kept its contents hidden until now. Myra had to grit her teeth to stop herself from laughing when she saw what was inside. The absurdity of it.
It was a bird. A tiny, yellow bird, with green-tipped wings and beady, inquisitive eyes. That this little creature might be a threat to anyone nearly made Myra bubble up with laughter again. The laughter died immediately when she noticed Kiana was shaking gently beside her. “That’s a mage’s familiar,” she whispered.
Myra stared at her. “How do you know?”
She didn’t answer. Myra worried anew then. She knew so little about Kiana’s parents, of her life before the circus. She had asked many times when they were younger, but she could see it brought her pain to talk about it, and so she stopped. She wondered again if it was merely poverty that led to her parents selling her to Aunt Elba. It couldn’t have been an act of protection, beyond the fact that she’d be supplied with food until she was old enough to decide her path for herself? Perhaps they had been removing her from suspicion, as many had done during those first years of persecution, many years ago.
She regarded the bird with a new tremor of fear. The soldier explained that a familiar, parted from its mage, would latch onto the next person of magical blood in the vicinity. Using familiars captured from powerful mages, they had been able to find many of mage blood and transport them to the capital for registration. They were routinely making their way through the towns and travelling troupes like theirs would all be subject to search.
Travellers of all kinds were subject to suspicion in this land. If someone didn’t stay long in a place, was always on the move, surely there had to be a reason, or so people thought. And circuses, with their shows of unnatural ability and freakishness, had been under increased scrutiny. The magic which had once drawn in the crowds still drew them in, but they brought those who suspected too. Myra had seen very little of magic in her time, but still, sometimes she had wondered about some of the acts. The old lion tamer, Lethro, who seemed to be able to whisper to any animal and communicate what he wanted. Della, the knife-thrower, whose aim seemed something beyond nature. Kiana…She stole another glance at her friend, who was staring at the soldier, rapt. No - pure talent came across as magic at times. They told each other everything. She would just know.
Yet when the sergeant unlatched the bird’s cage, she could barely breathe with fear. She was holding Kiana’s hand very tight now, she realised. For a few moments, the bird simply looked from side to side, as if curious, before it took a few hops forward, and with a small flap of wings flew free of its cage.
Fly away, Myra begged. Fly away and be free and never condemn another again.
But the bird flew the length of their line, then back again, over their heads, circling. Finally, it narrowed its circle. It was flying right above them now, Kiana and her. No, she thought. You can’t take her from me. Not like this.
Everyone watched with wide eyes as the bird continued to circle them. She wanted to shoo it away, but she couldn’t move. It took her a moment to notice the bird had disappeared. From beside her, she heard a gasp. She looked to Kiana, panicked, but she was staring at a spot somewhere around Myra’s shoulder. She looked down and saw the bird. For a moment she felt only relief. The bird had made a mistake and flown to her instead. It obviously couldn’t be her, she had no mage blood. She gave Kiana what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but her friend only looked at her in horror.
“Alright, men. Tie her up and store her in the caravan. We’ll leave by dawn.”
Everyone stepped away from her. Everyone but Kiana. The soldiers advanced and she looked on, helpless as they tore her out of Kiana’s grip. At some point, she was aware of someone gently coaxing the bird off her shoulder and back into its cage, where it hopped obediently. She looked to the others for help as they bound her, but their eyes slid away, sad but afraid. She met her aunt’s eyes and what she saw there scare
d her most of all. She looked sad. Not simply sad, but resigned. She had known this would happen.
