The Circus Infinitus - Embers from a Fallen Star

by Colin Forest

  Embers from a Fallen Star

  By Colin Forest

  Copyright 2010

  Chapter 1: Performer of Miracles

  Kenneth Monckton ran towards the crater, created where the fallen star had crashed just moments before. Smoke spiralled out of it and the grass at its edges smouldered. Inside it, a rock the size of his palm lay. Wrapping a handkerchief around his hand, he picked the rock up, where it glittered and twinkled. He carried the rock with him to his caravan. Inside the cluttered interior, he placed the rock in the top drawer of a cabinet which stood surrounded by a scene of ordered chaos: beakers, bottles and vials in an open chest on the floor; books stacked in untidy piles; a furled banner propped against the corner; a globe of the world perched precariously at the edge of the very same cabinet; a coat-hanger burdened with heavy clothing; and an assortment of posters and other trappings of a man of his trade.

  A rock from the heavens, he thought. That’ll draw them in.

  A sudden thought compelled him to open the bottom-most drawer. He reached to the very back and felt something. He pulled it out. It was a little box, inlaid with ivory.

  Heavens. I thought I’d lost you.

  He knew what was in the box and opened it just to make sure. The ring glinted dully in the dim light. He had felt lucky before to have found the rock for it would make a fine addition to his wares. And now, he felt doubly lucky to have found his ring. He had spent weeks looking for it, certain that he would not set eyes on it again. And yet, here it was, right where he now remembered he had placed it.

  When he closed the door to his caravan, he felt light as a feather. Whistling a happy tune, he climbed up to his seat. He pulled on the reins and ordered, “On you go, Mabel.” The horse trotted along the road, pulling the caravan to its next destination.

  The Ringmaster walked down the footpath, his cane in counterpoint to the sound of his footsteps. The cobbled path teemed with people, flowing down the road towards the park. He followed the stream, certain that it would lead him to where his interest lay. He had heard excited chatter at the circus regarding a miracle cure for memory loss.

  A caravan had set up at a corner of the park. A banner proclaimed: “The Great Kenneth Monckton. Performer of Miracles.” A queue had formed near the front of the caravan, where a man in an extravagant coat had his palm on the forehead of a balding man. The balding man sat on a small stool near a small table. There was a look of scepticism on his face, but only temporarily for after a few moments, a smile appeared on his face. He almost jumped out of the stool, exclaiming “I remember now! I remember now!” After parting with a small amount of money, he dashed off, nearly knocking over a couple of people. Following that display, those at the front surged forward with entreaties for help, jingling the coins in their purses. Kenneth Monckton raised both hands in a gesture to calm them down and beamed the most charming, benevolent smile he could muster.

  The Ringmaster raised a corner of his lip in amusement. It seemed as if he stood for hours, but soon the crowd began to thin. He could see that Kenneth Monckton was closing for the day and he stepped forward to join the last remaining few who had come to the caravan. He stood at the very end and when it came to his turn, the Ringmaster stepped forward and took in a good view of Kenneth Monckton. He was a dark-haired middle-aged man with a prominent mole in the middle of his forehead, who cultivated a ferocious moustache. The extravagant coat he had on looked a bit shabby, with areas where the stitching could be seen to be unravelling. He wiped the stool with a handkerchief and waved for the Ringmaster to take a seat.

  “And how may I help you, sir?” asked Kenneth.

  “I’m here for the same reason everyone is here. I’m interested in your cure for memory loss.”

  “Of course. Of course. And is there anything in particular you need to remember?”

  “My memory is fine. I’m just curious in how you do it.”

  Kenneth chuckled. “Can’t tell you that. Secret of the trade, you understand?”

  The Ringmaster nodded, smiling.

  “I run a circus: Circus Infinitus. Perhaps you’ve heard of it? We’re in town right now. I’m here because your reputation precedes you, Mr. Monckton. And I hope that perhaps you would consider pooling your talents with ours. I’m sure it will be a most beneficial arrangement,” he said.

  “Thanks,” Kenneth said with a smile, “but I prefer to work alone. Always have. Always will.

  Kenneth picked up the stool and table to store in his caravan, all the while under the Ringmaster’s watchful eye.

  “Your reputation precedes you too, Mr. –”

  “Delfay.”

  “A pleasure. Your circus’s ruffled a few feathers down in London, hasn’t it?” he asked from inside his caravan.

  “We try to avoid that as much as we can.”

  “Don’t we all.”

  He re-appeared at the door to his caravan with a bottle and a couple of glasses in his hands.

  “Would you like to join me for a drink?” he asked.

  “I’d be delighted. Thank you.”

  “Come in. Come in,” he waved. “Sit anywhere you like.”

  The Ringmaster entered the caravan. It was dark but for the light coming in from the doorway. Dust motes danced in the air. He moved a globe aside and took a seat at the corner of a cabinet. Kenneth sat down on a wooden chest with the bottle and glasses placed next to him. He carefully poured from the bottle and handed the Ringmaster a filled glass. When the Ringmaster leaned forward to accept, their fingers touched briefly.

  A star streaked across the sky. An explosion erupted. Smoke billowed. Grass rushed past beneath feet. Small flames licked blackened grass. The ruptured earth smoked. A rock glittered with tiny crystalline fragments.

  The Ringmaster blinked.

  “Are you alright?” Kenneth asked, his brow furrowed.

  “I’m fine. Just a momentary nausea,” replied the Ringmaster.

  “You haven’t even had your drink yet,” he said with a smile and a wink.

  The Ringmaster took a tiny sip and watched while Kenneth gulped generously. A few drops of wine dribbled down his chin onto his florid coat. Kenneth gave it a cursory wipe and poured himself another glass.

  “Drink up, Mr. Delfay. There’s more where that came from.”

  “Mr. Monckton,” the Ringmaster began with a smile. “I’m intrigued in what you’ve heard said about Circus Infinitus. What tales of scandal have you heard?”

  Kenneth erupted in a short, sharp laugh.

  “All sorts of depravity and debauchery, Mr. Delfay. That you consort with demons. That you have a den filled with women of dubious character and dress. That you keep an opium-addled giant. And on it goes”

  “And what have you heard about me?”

  “You …,” he said, wagging his finger, “you are a mystery. They say you have quite a way with words. A sliver-tongued devil, that’s what they call you. Sublimely persuasive.”

  “And do you believe them?”

  “What’s there to believe? I see what I see.”

  “And what do you see?”

  “Just a man making a living. Like me.”

  Rocks floated weightlessly past the window against a field of stars. A crystal glared under bright lights. A face leered in anger and jealousy. Arms and legs entangled in a fight. A body lay lifeless.

  “Mr. Delfay,” said Kenneth with a note of concern in his voice.

  The Ringmaster blinked in confusion for the second time that day.

  “Is anything wrong?” asked Kenneth.

  “No. Everything is fine. I just remembered something.”

  Kenneth gave
a knowing look and said, “There. You see? Even someone with a fine memory like yours can’t discount what I have to offer.”

  “There is a stone,” the Ringmaster said, his voice barely above a whisper.

  Kenneth’s eyes narrowed.

  “What do you mean?” he asked.

  “The stone that you found. Can I see it?”

  “What stone?”

  “The stone. The fallen star. You found it in a field.” The Ringmaster’s voice became more forceful. “You thought you could display it as a curiosity to a paying audience. Then you discovered its qualities, how it rejuvenated your memory.”

  “You’re talking nonsense. I think you should leave.”

  The Ringmaster seemed not to hear. He muttered to himself, “The meteor. The radiation must affect memory. Does it have other effects? On other brain functions? Of course it must. On psychokinesis? Or telepathy? And what about personality –”

  “Mr. Delfay,” Kenneth snapped. “I want you to leave. Now.”

  “Mr. Monckton. You must show me the stone. You don’t know what it can do to you – what other effects it might have. I have experience with such things. Believe me when I tell you that you are in peril with it in your possession.”

  “No,” Kenneth said, shaking his head repeatedly. “You want it for yourself.” He rushed for the doorway but the door suddenly closed of its own volition. Kenneth turned, and his eyes widened. The Ringmaster’s cloak billowed although there was no wind, and the eyes almost seemed to glow.

  “Give me the stone!”

  Chapter 2: Possession

  Icarus looked up only briefly when the Ringmaster came into view.

  “What did you find?” he asked.

  “Nothing. He was just a charlatan,” replied the Ringmaster.

  “Hmmph. I thought as much,” Icarus said, and returned to his work. He sat with his legs enveloped around a large pipe, examining a series of smaller pipes. There was the sound of whistling like a kettle on the boil, and a jet of steam shot out of the pipe he was working on. He put his metal hand over the area and the steam escaped past the gaps in his fingers, curling around him and swathing him in a misty blanket so that only a grey outline of his form could be seen.

  “Damn! Damn! Damn! Damn!” he cried. “Nothing’s gone right today.”

  The Ringmaster left Icarus and went past several hallways until he reached his room. He felt the bump of his prized possession pressing against him and once inside, he fumbled to get it out. His eyes gleamed greedily after the stone which he held in his hands. It was a charcoal-coloured lump of rock embedded with crystals which looked like grains of sand. When the Ringmaster turned the stone over and over, it sparkled like it was full of diamonds. His head filled with images of memories thought long lost.

  A child and his father stood on the side of a hill beside their insect mounts. A mountain range spread before them. A large crater-pocked moon burnished in the late afternoon sky. A distant river sparkled in the sun. An airship sliced through the clouds.

  Eridon, he thought.

  His eyes filled with tears.

  The body lay still. He prodded it with his foot. It stayed still. He turned it over. He placed a finger below the nostrils. There was no breath. He turned it over again. He crumpled over the body.

  Father, he thought.

  His tears overflowed. He pounded his fists on the table and for several minutes, he stood hunched with his fists on its surface. A washbasin stood on a cabinet by the bed. He went to take it and he poured some water into it. He splashed the water over his face, and when he saw his reflection looking back at him, he said, “Killer. You are a killer.” He looked hard at the washbasin and the reflection therein, and the washbasin suddenly folded in on itself, as if it were a piece of paper being scrunched up. The water spilled over the lip and splashed to the floor. The sound of crushing metal filled his room. The washbasin continued to shrink in size until it ended up as a ball of twisted metal. He picked up his handiwork and marvelled at what he did.

  The face of Kenneth Monckton came unbidden to his mind. His lip curled in derision at the thought of him.

  What use is the stone to him? Improving memories. Little parlour tricks for little humans. How dare he attempt to lie to me and fight me. And how dare he make me force him to tell me where he kept the stone. How dare he!

  He remembered Kenneth trying to run from him and he laughed.

  X the Strongman led the two-trunked elephant around the stage as the crowd clapped. X waved his hand and beamed widely. After making a few more circuits, he went to the centre of the stage, kneeled, and raised his hands palm up to the level of his eyes. The elephant first put one foot on one palm and then the other foot on the other palm. X gritted his teeth and puffed out his cheeks as he supported the elephant’s weight. An expulsion of breath and a roar escaped his lips as he got to his feet, pushing the elephant on to its hind legs. The two appeared to dance across the stage.

  Felina tumbled from the wings across the stage and bounded on to X’s shoulders. From his shoulders, she gripped the elephant’s trunk at the point where it split in two. She cart-wheeled up on to the elephant’s head, where she sat in her rehearsed pose – shoulders back and arms raised to receive the audience’s applause. The sound was deafening and the elephant added to the mix by trumpeting its own call. Then X worked his way underneath the elephant’s belly and with a grunt, lifted both the elephant and Felina off the ground. The applause grew louder.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” said the Ringmaster. “I give you the strength of X and the grace of Felina.”

  Icarus stood in the shadow near the entrance watching the show when a groaning sound emanated from the pipes. Moments later, there was a loud explosion, and the area behind the stage filled with steam. The sound caught everyone by surprise and as one, they turned their heads to its direction. The elephant let out another trumpet call and wriggled in X’s grip. The crowd turned back to see X losing his balance as one knee buckled. Felina fell off the elephant’s head and landed on her feet effortlessly. There was an audible gasp as the elephant came crashing down. However, another round of clapping soon ensued as the crowd looked on wonderstruck at the sight of the elephant floating in the air and gliding gently to the earth away from X.

  Icarus, who had dashed to the pipes after he heard the explosion, stopped mid-stride and turned to look when he heard the clapping. He frowned at the sight of the elephant gliding to the ground. As he made his way behind the stage curtains, he saw the Ringmaster in the wings standing slightly hunched with one arm on the wall for support and he knew that it was he who guided the elephant to the ground. The frown remained on Icarus’s face as he worked to repair the burst pipe, and the thought stayed with him long after the show had finished and the crowd had left.

  He went looking for the Ringmaster and found him out in the open, facing the northern sky. It was a cloudless night, the sky awash with stars. A light breeze stirred from the east. As Icarus approached the Ringmaster, a brilliant point of light streaked across the sky.

  “I remember as a child I would stare up at the Eridonean sky on a night similar to this. I would ask my father to point out the stars he’d visited. And he would name them as he pointed them out to me, and describe the wonders he’d seen,” said the Ringmaster without looking back.

  “A night like this reminds me of my youth in Italy, when I still had my body. A soft breeze to cool the skin after a warm day.”

  Icarus came to stand beside the Ringmaster.

  “Are you feeling better, Del? That must be quite taxing, what you did.”

  “You worry too much, Icarus.”

  “You’ve never lifted anything so heavy.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Icarus seemed about to speak but stopped himself.

  “Icarus,” said the Ringmaster. “I said I’m fine.”

  “The man you went to see –”

  “I told you he was a charlatan.”

  “Perhaps. B
ut did anything else happen while you were there?

  “Nothing.”

  “Damn it, Del. Why are you being so difficult?” Icarus growled. “It’s concerning that your abilities should suddenly grow like that.”

  “How do you know the extent of my abilities? You’ve never met another person like me. With what standard do you use as a gauge?” the Ringmaster retorted.

  “Ever since I met you, I know what you can do. What you did in there –”

  “It is NOT abnormal!”

  “You read my thoughts. Since when do you read my thoughts without permission?” Icarus asked in a snappish tone.

  The Ringmaster turned to look at him and said, “Then don’t think so loudly.”

  For the next few days, Icarus tried his best to keep an eye on the Ringmaster. He did not share his concern with the rest of the troupe, and they went about their business none the wiser. He found it particularly hard to keep track of the Ringmaster’s movements – except during the shows – for the Ringmaster always knew where he was.

  He stood in the shadows swathed in his coat one day as two patrons walked by.

  “The man has gone mad,” said the first. “They found him wandering around the park, going on and on about a stone and glowing eyes.”

  “Really?” the second asked.

  “Yes, they hauled him off to the madhouse. You should’ve seen the fight he gave them.”

  “What?” Icarus asked, stepping forward.

  The two men jumped up in fright, looking shocked by his appearance.

  “I beg your pardon,” said the first.

  “Were you talking about the man selling memory cures?” Icarus growled. A puff of smoke billowed from beneath the brim of his hat. “Quickly. Out with it. What’s wrong with your tongue?”

  “Yes – yes,” the first man stammered. “The authorities have arrested him. He’s lost all his senses. Quite ironic, really, if you consider what he was selling. Can you imagine,” the man said with a smirk, “that someone making a living curing memories should now be left witless.”