Fabian was the first to notice the blue leaflet tucked in among the drab brown and white envelopes on the table. He pulled it from the pile and studied it, then showed it to Tanya. Bold, decorative violet letters stretched in an arched banner at the top of the page, spelling out VALENTINO’S CIRCUS. She skimmed the rest of the page and looked at Rowan. Her lack of reaction told Tanya that the leaflet had been expected. The knowledge sent goose bumps skittering down Tanya’s arms and prompted a memory of something Rowan had told her before, when she had been hiding out in the secret tunnels below the manor.
There’s a circus that’ll be passing through, Rowan had said. I have a contact who travels with them, a fey man….
Tanya leaned forward for a closer look. To the left of the banner, drawn as though holding its edge, stood a man in a top hat and elegant coattails, his face obscured by the hat’s shadow. Drawn behind him was a big top in vivid stripes of mauve and silver. In the darkness of the tent opening, a list of dates was printed, along with directions. It was simple, yet striking. In a heartbeat Tanya understood that this was the circus Rowan had spoken of. Its arrival—and that of the Coven—was no coincidence. The two were connected.
“Oh, yes,” Nell commented, craning her neck to read. “I saw the circus folk arriving on Halfpenny Field yesterday, when I took the bus. I’ve never seen them there before. Usually they pitch further down on Bramley’s cornfields, don’t they?”
Warwick lowered his newspaper. “I heard they couldn’t pitch there this year. Not after the fields were so badly flooded—they’d never get the caravans through. It’s still pretty boggy down there.” He glanced casually at Rowan, who avoided his eyes. “The Halfpenny Field is one of the only ones higher up that isn’t still like a swamp.”
“Can we go?” Rowan asked, scouring the leaflet. She seemed alert all of a sudden; the cobwebs of sleep had been brushed away. “It says the grand opening is this evening at seven o’clock. We could take the bus and still make it back before dark.”
Warwick looked surprised. “I don’t see why not.” He looked at Florence, who gave a distracted nod as she opened one envelope after another.
“I haven’t been to a circus since I was a little girl,” said Nell, looking hopefully at Rowan.
“That’s a shame,” Rowan replied, seeming not to notice the hint. But when she looked up at Tanya and Fabian her unspoken message was clear: they needed to go alone. “We can go to buy tickets in Tickey End this afternoon,” she said. “Then we can walk the rest of the way to Halfpenny Field. It’s not far from the square.”
Nell sat back in her seat huffily, and Tanya felt a small pang of guilt. Rowan was the first to excuse herself from the table, heading back to her room. A few minutes later, Tanya also got up, grabbing Oberon’s leash from the back door and heading out toward the brook.
The fresh morning air and brisk walk woke her up, and as she started back to the manor, she wondered what the circus—and the rest of the evening—would have in store.
That afternoon, Tanya, Rowan, and Fabian were seated in a little booth at the back of Rosie Beak’s noisy tea shop in Tickey End. On the table in front of them was the leaflet that had come in the morning’s mail and three tickets.
“I hope Tino’s going to pay me back for these,” Rowan grumbled, smoothing the tickets.
“We didn’t have to go to the circus,” said Fabian. “We could’ve just pretended.”
“No, we couldn’t,” Rowan replied. “If Warwick suspects anything, the tickets provide us with an alibi. Besides, I don’t want to hang around for ages doing nothing while we’re waiting for the others.”
“So who are the others?” Fabian asked. “And why does Tino want you all to meet at the circus?”
Rowan’s face darkened. “You know I can’t talk about them.”
“Surely you can tell us a little?” Tanya said. “Like how you met them. And some of them aren’t even human.” She glanced about and lowered her voice. “They’re fey. I don’t understand why they’d be involved in this.”
“A few of the Coven members, including Tino, are part of the circus,” Rowan said, relenting. “I met Sparrow first.”
“That’s the scruffy boy?”
Rowan nodded. “He was on the streets, like me, and still is, by the look of things. He was the one who gave me the name Red, because of my hair. He introduced me to Tino. The rest of them, apart from Suki, were already involved. Most of us have been affected by the changeling trade in some way.”
Fabian frowned. “Even the fey ones?”
“Yes. Even fey people don’t take kindly to their children being switched—if the children are loved. Tino lost a niece, Peg lost a son, and Merchant, a sister. But the brothers, Victor and Samson, and Dawn were all changelings themselves—they all grew up in a human family that wasn’t their own.”
“Dawn’s one of the missing ones?” Tanya asked, and again, Rowan nodded.
“What about the other boy… Crooks?” Fabian asked. “Is he human?”
“Yes. Everyone apart from those I just mentioned is human.” She blinked suddenly. “Except me, being half of each.”
“I didn’t like him,” said Tanya. “Crooks, I mean.”
“Not many of us do,” said Rowan. “He’s a professional thief—or at least, he was. He comes from a family of locksmiths. He was recruited after breaking in somewhere and accidentally witnessing a switch. Once Cobbler realized how useful he could be, he convinced him to join us—for a wage.” She wrinkled her nose. “But I don’t trust him.” She stopped speaking and looked around.
“Did we really have to come here? We’re getting stared at. I’m sure she remembers me, the old battle-ax.”
Tanya glanced surreptitiously toward the counter. Rosie Beak and one of her cronies were having a whispered conversation, their gray heads bobbing and nodding like excitable pigeons. Every now and then one of them turned to look in the direction of the table where the three sat in a way that was not at all subtle.
Last summer, when Rowan had been on the run, Rosie Beak had provided the Tickey End Gazette with an eyewitness description after glimpsing her in the town.
“So what if old Nosey Beak does remember you?” asked Fabian, biting into a scone. With his finger he caught a mixture of cream and strawberry jam oozing out of the other side and popped that into his mouth too. “We’re not doing anything wrong. Just having a nice, civilized tea”—he lifted a white china cup to his lips and sipped theatrically—“and one that doesn’t taste like a grouchy old brownie, for once.”
“All the same,” Rowan growled below the clinking and clattering of crockery. “I wish we were somewhere else.” She cast an impatient look at the clock on the wall.
“We’ve still got over an hour before the show begins,” said Tanya.
“I’d rather wait on the field, then,” Rowan retorted. “And you two are only coming to the circus. You’re not coming to the meeting afterward.”
“Yes, we are,” said Fabian easily. “Otherwise we’ll go back and tell Florence and Rose and my dad what you’re up to.”
Rowan glared at him. “Telling tales? I didn’t think that was your style.”
Fabian shrugged. “It is when it suits me.” He pointed to the leaflet. “Anyway, why doesn’t it list the acts? I thought circuses advertised their best acts on the posters and leaflets. It must be rubbish.”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” said Rowan, relaxing slightly. “There are three reasons why Tino doesn’t advertise the acts anywhere. First, in case one of the performers is ill or has to cancel. He doesn’t want customers to come away disappointed. Second, he doesn’t want to make it easy for competing circuses to know exactly what he’s got. And third, he likes the element of surprise.”
“Huh,” said Fabian, unconvinced. “He’s good at coming up with excuses, this Tino, isn’t he?”
“Very,” Rowan agreed. “He has to be. But I promise you, you’ll be impressed.”
“How long does it l
ast?” Tanya asked. “They’re not cruel to the animals, are they?”
Rowan shook her head. “The show never uses performing animals. Just people. The only animals with the circus are the horses pulling the carts and caravans, and the pets of the performers, and they’re all well cared for. It lasts for about an hour and a half.”
At this Fabian looked even less impressed. “Some show this is going to be,” he muttered.
Rowan’s smile broadened. “Just you wait.”
The lanes leading to Halfpenny Field were shaded and cool, and ahead they could see other groups of people walking in the same direction. On the field itself, a carpet path had been laid just beyond the wooden gate, and through it the field was bustling with activity.
People were milling everywhere, weaving in and out and around brightly colored tents. At the center of them all was the huge mauve and silver tent that was on the leaflets. It curved in a circle, dwarfing everything around it, and a line of people snaked back from the opening, waiting for the moment they could go in.
Beautiful Romany caravans were stationed on the field’s edges in a kaleidoscope of color and pattern, and on the steps of some of the vans, the circus folk could be seen sitting and watching the approaching crowd of circus goers.
“They look like Mad Morag’s caravan,” Fabian said in awe. “But there are so many of them!”
“Look at all the other tents,” said Tanya, craning her neck to read the wooden boards positioned outside each one. “Over there—Fortune Telling… and there, Curiosity Cabinet, Portrait Drawing—are they open now? Can we go in?”
Rowan shook her head. “They open after the main performance. Tino’s noticed that most people are more likely to spend their money on the smaller attractions when they’re still feeling excited after the bigger show. You can have a look around then.”
They joined the end of the line, slowly shuffling forward to the opening as the people in front were admitted inside. Soon it was their turn, and as they reached the front a woman in an exquisite, sequined costume took their tickets from them and pointed them to their seats. She gave a faint nod as she met Rowan’s eyes.
“Who was she?” Fabian asked as they went in and clambered up the steps of the tiered seating.
“Ariadne,” Rowan answered as they took their seats. “She’s been part of the circus for years. But she’s not one of… them.” She took a quick look around, but everyone in the surrounding seats was too involved in getting comfortable and attending to elderly relatives or young children to be interested in their conversation. It was rowdy inside and growing warmer as more people entered. Soon, almost every seat in the vast tent was filled, and the great opening swung closed with a swish.
Enough time passed for people to start fidgeting, and it was then that Tanya’s eyes began wandering over the crowd, exploring the many people who had come to see the show. Hazarding a guess, she estimated that there were close to a thousand people in the audience.
Her eyes skimmed over various families: a young child crying and being comforted by his father; a large woman and a small, skinny man arguing over whose seats were whose; a little old lady having a fit of sneezing into her handkerchief.
Then her gaze fell upon a young boy sitting close to the front. Next to him sat a man who was obviously his father, for they looked very alike. Both had the same snub noses and wavy brown hair with a distinctive cowlick at the front. On the father’s lap a small girl of about two years old wriggled and squawked, her own toffee-colored hair an unruly tangle. She erupted into peals of giggles, collapsing on her father’s lap as he tickled her.
The boy stared straight ahead into the arena, taking no notice of the little girl’s antics. At first Tanya wondered if he was feeling left out, but something about his expression made her think again. Was he simply excited about the circus, focusing on the moment it would begin? No, she decided. He looked solemn. Worried. Like something was gnawing away at him. And then the thought hit her.
“Rowan,” she murmured, nudging her elbow to the left. “Look over there. That boy.”
“What boy?”
“Straight ahead, in the third row back sitting next to the steps.”
Fabian leaned over from Tanya’s right. “What about him?”
“It’s him, I’m sure of it. The boy Suki arranged the meeting with. Look, he’s with his dad and a little girl, it must be the father and sister.”
“It could be anyone,” said Rowan, studying the family. “He could just be sulking about something.”
“No. Look at his face. He’s scared.”
Rowan chewed her lip as she continued to watch the boy. “Well, I guess we’ll be finding out soon enough.”
The lights dimmed then, and their view of the boy was gone. A flurry of excited whispers filled the audience, and then a spotlight flicked on in the center of the arena. There, groomed and handsome, stood Tino, dressed in all his ringmaster’s finery. His tawny hair was pulled back from his face and he wore a suit of black, embellished with glittering silver thread.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” he called, in a voice quite different from his usual drawl. “I welcome you, one and all! This will be a night to remember—a fantastical feast for the eyes! Prepare to be mystified, and to marvel at what you’re about to see… for what we are about to show you is that magic does truly exist!”
“And that’s the beauty of it,” Rowan murmured. “Half of it is magic, and no one even knows. It’s magic disguised as a clever illusion. It’s perfect.”
With that, Tino swept out of the arena. The show began.
Dancers in dazzling costumes shimmered into the spotlight, each one’s moves synchronized with the rest. Colorful feather plumes in their hair swirled and glided in a mesmerizing way as they whipped and twirled. Too quickly, they were gone, and the spotlight moved up to highlight several trapeze artists swinging and soaring through the air. Tanya found herself gasping with the crowd each time one of the acrobats launched into a free fall before connecting safely and somersaulting into another graceful display.
Next a man with a huge, lethal-looking sword entered the arena. He threw the weapon above his head. The crowd watched as it sliced through the air and cut back down again. He caught it effortlessly. From their place in the audience Tanya could not see the markings on the sword, but the shape of it was familiar, and so was the swordsman.
“It’s Victor, isn’t it?” she whispered to Fabian.
Fabian nodded, his eyes never leaving the man. His mouth was open, and his face was full of admiration. Victor continued to whip his weapon around in a complicated display, throwing, slicing, catching. He looked like an ancient warrior sparring with an invisible enemy. All of a sudden, he stopped and faced the audience. His expression was daring and tinged with arrogance. Slowly, he lowered himself onto one knee, placing the other foot in front of him. His back was perfectly straight. Then he tilted his head back, lifted the sword… and opened his mouth wide.
“There’s no way he’s going to swallow that,” said Fabian.
“Don’t bet on it,” said Rowan, a small smile curling the edges of her mouth.
Victor fed the blade into his mouth. It began to vanish, a couple of inches at a time.
“It’s got to be a trick,” said Fabian. “An illusion. It must be a retractable blade….”
But as the sword rapidly disappeared down Victor’s gullet, even Fabian had to face facts. There was nowhere for a blade of that size to disappear to, except down Victor’s throat, for the hilt of the sword was only a fraction of the length of the blade. Soon, only the hilt was visible. The audience was utterly silent.
In one smooth sweep of his arm Victor drew the sword out of his mouth and held it aloft triumphantly. The crowd erupted into applause. Victor barely paused before sheathing his sword and turning to the side of the tent. Two dancers wheeled in a large wooden board that was taller than Victor and as wide, along with a tray of gleaming silver objects.
“What are they?” F
abian whispered excitedly. “What’s he doing now?”
“A volunteer?” Victor boomed. It was the first time he’d spoken since taking the limelight.
At once, more than half the hands in the audience shot up into the air. The two dancers left the center circle and began to prowl the seats, looking for a suitable volunteer. Feeling daring, Tanya put her hand up as well. So did Fabian.
“Knives,” Rowan said calmly.
“What?”
“You asked what was in the tray. They’re knives. For throwing.”
Fabian took his hand down. Too late, Tanya realized that one of the dancers scouring the audience was standing next to her, smiling. It was Ariadne, who had taken their tickets. And Tanya’s hand was still up in the air. Before she could protest, Ariadne swooped down on her, tugging her out of her seat and down the steps. Twisting around, Tanya saw Fabian grinning from ear to ear. Rowan looked solemn, but as Tanya was about to turn back to the front, she mouthed, He always drops one.
Bewildered, but with no time to give more thought to it, Tanya reached the center circle. Victor was standing by the tray, making a great display of polishing the knives. Each of them looked as sharp as a shard of glass and, in the spotlight, they glinted like a jagged row of shark’s teeth. There was a ripple of laughter and whispering from the audience. As Tanya dragged her gaze away from the knives, she realized that all eyes were on her. She tried not to show her nervousness, but felt it in her knees, which had started to shake. Ariadne smiled and led her to the raised wooden board. Tanya stepped up onto the platform, unable to make out the audience now, for the bright light trained on her made it impossible to see.
With a flick of her wrist Ariadne produced a long, black silk scarf. It trailed through the air for the benefit of the crowd, then was placed over Tanya’s eyes. She felt the dancer’s nimble hands tying a firm knot at the back of her head, then she was guided back to lean against the wooden board. Gentle hands pulled her arms out on either side of her.
“Spread your fingers,” Ariadne told her. “Now stand with your feet apart.”
13 Secrets Page 7
