by Colin Forest
“I don’t need him to do anything. I can manage things myself. Just hold me up,” she said.
Titus and the Ringmaster sat on either side of Isabella and kept her supported. She placed both her hands on her belly and concentrated, but the pain would not go away.
“You’re too weak to do that,” said Tumblety. “And you shouldn’t be putting your child under any more stress.”
“You carry a child?” asked Titus.
“A daughter,” replied Tumblety. “Isn’t that right?” he asked Isabella. “You channel power through your womb and through your daughter’s potential womb. That explains the potency of your powers. That’s how you were able to stand up against that snake of yours without a scratch, isn’t it?” He looked at her struggling to withstand her pain and said, “Well, almost without a scratch.”
“You must trust John,” said the Ringmaster. “He will not harm you.” His voice sounded silky but there was a hard edge beneath it.
Isabella relented.
She had never slept so much. When she woke up, the sun was much lower in the sky. She could hear laughter and screams. There was music, applause and the ever-present muted churning of machinery. The Ringmaster and Titus were there.
“Are you still here?”
“You’ve been asleep for a few hours. I thought I’d check up on you before the show starts. Are you hungry?”
She nodded.
“Titus will bring you your meal.” He rose for the door and said, “It’s excellent that you are doing so well.”
“Before you go, tell me: do you have faith in your doctor?”
“I believe that … it is for the greater good that the doctor is with us: both for himself and for everyone else.”
She lay against her pillows while Titus handed her her meal and watched as she ate.
“Miss Archer …”
“Call me Isabella,” she said between mouthfuls.
“Isabella, there is a painting hanging in my library of a woman who looks like you. She is dressed as a wood nymph and has a unicorn resting its head in her lap. It was painted over a century ago by an artist who lived in these parts.”
She stopped chewing.
“Frederick,” she sighed.
“Adam was right then. It IS you.”
She nodded.
“Have you always lived here?” he asked.
“If that’s your way of asking me my age, I’m older than you think.”
“No. No. What I meant was: why haven’t I seen you before?”
“I lived here once, a long time ago. In the very house you and Adam went to. It was there that I met a young wandering artist. Very talented. And handsome. For awhile, everything was perfect. Fortune was kind and the future seemed to hold limitless promise. He knew about what I could do and he was so accepting. He talked about marriage … and children. I knew that day would come. We had such a terrible argument. And I left. So you see, having lived countless lifetimes doesn’t mean you’re free from acting like a fool. It was only recently that I’ve returned. And even then, I made sure of the utmost discretion.”
“Is that so bad – children, I mean?”
“You don’t understand. I was already pregnant and to give him a child, I would have to give birth to my daughter first,” she explained as if to a boy too stupid to understand. “I have channelled power through my daughter too many times. She would have grown in my womb with the ability to channel power herself. Such a pregnancy and birth … It’s too dangerous.”
Titus fell quiet.
Tumblety could not believe his luck. He stood nailed next to the door. He had come to look in on his patient but lingered instead to hear the conversation. A new vibrancy entered his limbs as he crept back to his temporary quarters. He took out his talisman and regarded it.
She could be centuries old, he thought. Pregnant all that time.
He smiled. He had found a way of extending the life of his talisman.
Isabella leaned against the trunk of a tree. The unicorn approached her and laid its head in her lap. She sat there for what seemed like hours, tracing a finger along the grooves and spirals of its almost glowing horn.
The unicorn rose suddenly. Isabella got to her feet, alarmed. She saw, weaving among the distant tree trunks, a pink floating bean, bobbing up and down like a balloon. It approached her bringing destruction, swallowing up everything in its path. As it consumed, it grew. Isabella could now see that it was not a bean at all, but a foetus, its glistening and translucent skin throbbing with power. It sailed through the air, pulling the placenta which anchored it to the earth. The unicorn tried to flee but was eaten.
There it floated in front of her, growing with each of her breath. She felt suffocated by its presence. And still it grew and grew.
Isabella snapped her eyes open and gulped for air. Her hand immediately reached for her womb. She laid it there and muttered, “Soon. I’ll be well enough soon.”
Chapter 4: Tumblety’s Tears
“We should get Miss Archer to pay for it. After all, it’s her fault,” said Icarus.
“No, let me pay for it,” said Titus.
“We can’t allow that. You’re a guest,” said the Ringmaster.
And so they argued, pushing and pulling to pay for the repair costs. Icarus pulled the Ringmaster aside.
“Even with all the money we’ve made so far, we won’t be able to cover everything,” he whispered.
“Let me worry about that,” replied the Ringmaster.
“The last thing we need is people talking about free supplies showing up. This isn’t the place for your special persuasive touch. People do talk.”
“That’s a risk we have to take.
“At least consider his offer.” On seeing the Ringmaster’s subtle frown, Icarus added, “We can re-pay him later.”
The Ringmaster seemed to hesitate for a second, but finally agreed.
The Ringmaster, Icarus and Titus stood before the damage caused by Sasha’s attack. Three large gaping holes stared at them: one in the wall of Tumblety’s quarters and the other two in the wall and ceiling of the Omniportallis chamber. Many pipes in the chamber were crushed while the chimney stacks showed signs of dents and claw marks.
Smoke swirled in the vicinity of Icarus’s head before it dissipated.
“All right, Titus,” said the Ringmaster. “When can you get the supplies?”
“I’ll go to town immediately.”
“Mind you, we won’t accept charity.”
“That’s right. You’ll get every penny of your money back,” added Icarus.
The sounds of work permeated the circus grounds. They had carried on non-stop ever since the supplies arrived. The sounds went from day to night, to day. Isabella could hear the sounds as she ate her lunch quietly. She had thanked Tumblety curtly as he handed her the food. Everyone had been busy of late due to the repairs: the Ringmaster, Icarus, Felina, and the rest of the circus inhabitants. Only Titus came to visit with any great regularity. She could feel the return of her strength and a look in the mirror showed her colour had improved. She was glad that the Ringmaster had taken the liberty of bringing her her clothes from her house. The bags sat open in a corner with the items half removed.
There was a light tap on her door.
“Come in,” she said.
It was Titus.
“Good morning Isabella. I was hoping if you would like to accompany me to see Thorn later in the afternoon. I have spoken to John and he thinks the exercise would do you good.”
Although her expression hardened at the mention of Tumblety’s name, she welcomed the chance to see Thorn.
Thorn nuzzled Isabella’s hand and grunted softly.
“How are you? Did you miss me?” she asked.
She stroked his snout and tickled his ear, which he flicked playfully. His eyes shone as he regarded the food she handed him. A crowd gathered to watch Isabella feeding Thorn. The onlookers looked awed at the white hide of the rhinoceros. A drift of word
s reached Isabella’s ears, questions from children to their parents begging for permission to get a similar rhinoceros themselves. The children pointed and made faces at Thorn, trying to get his attention, and when he turned their way, clapped excitedly. A few stragglers wandered off to explore other parts of the circus grounds. Icarus’s voice was heard admonishing them for getting too close to the repair sites. Animated replies were heard from those offended by Icarus’s brusqueness.
“He’s very beautiful,” said Felina from behind.
“Isabella, this is Felina, the Beastmistress of this circus. Felina, allow me to introduce Isabella Archer. Felina has been taking care of Thorn while you were ill.”
“Thank you, Felina. I can see that Thorn has been well looked after.”
“You’re welcome. It wasn’t easy at first. I couldn’t get through to him. He … shares a bond with you, doesn’t he?”
“Yes,” Isabella replied.
“You share a bond with others as well. Like Sasha.”
“Yes.”
After a moment of awkward silence, Isabella said, “Titus has told me that you are very close with the animals here, that you are especially close with your tiger.”
Felina nodded.
“I remember when I first saw him in the show. He was magnificent.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Titus chimed in.
A sudden scream followed by a loud crash interrupted their conversation. The three of them rushed to the accident site. They pushed their way through the crowd to see Icarus pull away rubble to reveal the bloodied body of a bystander. A piece of wood protruded from his torso and a pool of blood collected where he lay. Icarus pulled the wood out to screams of pain.
“Let me,” said Isabella when Tumblety failed to appear. “It’s all right. I’m well enough to do this,” she assured. She laid her hands on the man just as Tumblety came running up.
“Where were you?” Icarus growled at Tumblety.
Tumblety looked sour with his mouth tightened to a narrow line. The look remained as he stood watching Isabella work on the wound. The flesh knitted itself shut in a few seconds, much quicker than what he was capable of. He also noticed that the work was cleaner, more expertly done. He narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips even harder.
The man was taken to a room under Tumblety’s instructions, and when he had seen to it that he was comfortable, returned to his own room. Vials and beakers containing liquids bubbled away on his table. A line of jars stood arrayed on his shelves, the contents of which only he knew. Some contained animals while others appeared to house pieces of flesh preserved in formaldehyde. He took one of them and placed it on his table. It contained a moth. He unscrewed the jar and took the moth out. He was not afraid that the moth would fly away, not with its damaged wings. He held it delicately in one hand. It wriggled its legs in his grasp. With his other hand, he stirred a mixture with a glass stirrer and touched the tip of it to his tongue. His talisman throbbed with power and he channelled the power into the moth. He noted that it felt different. The ability to use power came more naturally. After a while, he returned it to its jar and brushed his fingers clean of the dust from its wings.
I’ve kept you alive another day, little moth. Be happy. By rights, you should be dead by now, he thought.
He leaned back in his chair with a wide grin on his face, and allowed his mind to wander. He saw Sasha attacking him, and this time he stood firm against her. Sasha struck and with a block of his arm, Sasha’s fang went spinning to the earth. He saw himself ministering to the wounded, whose torn flesh sealed instantaneously. He saw himself standing at the pinnacle of a mountain of people, all of whom were bowed in adulation. And he knew that this future was his for the taking, and his heart was glad.
On the night of Sasha’s attack, it had been a moonless sky. Now, the moon neared a full disc as it sailed overhead illuminating the circus and the work which still progressed. Tumblety crept across the circus grounds clutching his bag by him. It was filled close to overflowing. He could feel his talisman against his chest. He made his way across the fields towards a little deserted shack he had found.
The dog stirred and whimpered softly as the door opened and shut. Her round, fecund body lay sprawled on the ground. Tumblety threw her a piece of bone. He then prepared a bowl of milk mixed with the contents of a small vial and laid it near her. Minutes after lapping it, the dog fell asleep. He took out a second vial and drank it himself. The effects washed over him much more forcefully than when he had tired it with the moth. He placed his fingers on the talisman to channel a drop of power, and he felt it growing warmer. He smiled as the power flowed through his fingers. Tumblety then removed his tools from his bag and laid them out in a neat order. A shaft of moonlight entered the room through a window and reflected off Tumblety’s scalpel as he examined it.
The dog lay on the table with her belly peeled open like a fruit and her foetuses arranged like its seeds. The table was littered with Tumblety’s tools and a piece of blood-stained cloth. The flow of power through Tumblety’s hands felt like the flow of living water. He felt as if he could do anything with it: grasp it as if it were a piece of solid water, channel it like a canyon directing the flow of a river and shape it as if his hands were a bottle compelling the water to take its required shape. He felt pleasure wash over him as he directed the flow of power: he was the conductor of a grand symphony. He could see the flesh rejuvenating just enough so that mother and babies did not die. However, they also did not heal. Both existed in a balanced state: an equilibrium of the keenest sensitivity.
That’s it. Give the babies enough not to die, but not enough to grow, he thought. Steady. Steady. Control the balance.
But then, something caught his notice. At first, one of the foetuses wobbled and throbbed but soon, all of them did the same thing. Tumblety re-doubled his concentration, focused his will to control the power with greater precision and subtlety. But he lost control. The foetuses withered and the mother died not long after.
Tumblety looked at the mess before him in disbelief. He could not grasp what he had just seen. Anger welled in him. It grew until he could not contain it any longer.
“No,” he said. “No. NO. NO!”
With both his arms, he pushed the carcass of the dog off the table with a scream. He brushed his tools aside. They fell to the floor to the sound of a series of metallic clinks. He stood there for many minutes and wept. His hands trembled as they held the edge of the table. He gasped deep breaths.
“It’s not fair,” he cried.
As he trod the same fields back, he clutched his bag close to him and felt the talisman against his chest. The warmth he felt earlier had begun to fade. In the shack, the evidence of the night’s events was nowhere to be seen. There was no dog’s carcass. The only evidence was a fleeting one: a spot on the table of Tumblety’s drying tears.
Chapter 5: Tumblety’s Medicine
“We’re almost ready to go,” said Icarus. “It will take at most another two days for the fixes to be completed.”
“Good,” said the Ringmaster.
“Also, I reckon we’ll be able to pay back Titus and have something extra in the coffers. I’d say things didn’t turn out badly at all.”
They stood in the middle of the Omniportallis chamber, where not long ago, a large part of it lay ruined.
“How long will it take for the batteries to get charged?” asked the Ringmaster.
“It shouldn’t take too long. We’re already doing it. It’s sub-capacity, true, but that’s to be expected with all that damage. When we’re up and running, it shouldn’t take us an hour to get fully charged.”
“Excellent. It’s about time we leave.”
“Not soon enough, I say. I hear that Isabella will be leaving us today.”
“Yes. She’s well enough to travel, and there’s no further reason for her to stay. John will be glad, I’m sure.”
“I don’t know. He’s been giving her odd looks lately. I’d watch him.
Has he given away any of his feelings? No stray thoughts?”
“No more than his usual distaste for Isabella.”
Tumblety brooded in his room. The failure of his experiment weighed heavily on him. He remembered the joy he felt wielding power the way a woman would – the way Isabella would – and his thoughts naturally drifted to her. Looking out the window from where he stood, he could see Isabella outside.
Bitch.
He fingered the jar in front of him. The womb of the dog and all the attached foetuses floated inside.
Does it have to be human? Does it matter if it belongs to an animal, as long as it can create life?
These thoughts jostled with other thoughts in his mind. They simmered inside him and in an instant his mind was made up. He reached for jars, vials and bottles. He mixed liquids and powders and drew on the power of the new talisman. It burned with an intensity quite unlike his normal talisman. When he neared completion, he heard a crack. Looking down, he saw a tracery of feathered lines criss-crossing the jar holding the new talisman. He finished his mixture just in time before the jar exploded, showering him with fragments of glass and spilling the talisman on to the table. It sizzled to become a useless piece of flesh.
He poured the clear, odourless liquid into a vial, sealed it and slipped it into his waistcoat. He opened the bedroom door and peered down the corridor. Seeing nobody there, he crept out and hurried to Isabella’s room, where inside, he noticed a pair of gloves sitting on the bedside table. He took out the vial. Removing the stopper, he laced the inside of the gloves with the liquid which left no trace of its presence.
When he opened the door to have a peek outside, Titus happened to walk past.
“John! What are you doing in there?”
Titus pushed the door open.
“Titus!” he blurted, jumping. “I was looking for Isabella. There’s some medicine I wanted to give her.”
