landowner to make them a deal; often that could take a day. Amdi’s plan would save time, but it would leave them with the dubious diplomatic skills of Remnant Screwfloss. Just now, that worthy was atop the wagon and apparently following the conversation: “Amdi go ahead.”
Jefri looked out at the traffic jam around them. “Okay, Amdi. But keep it simple.”
“I will. One show, stipulated payment. And then we’re gone in the early morning.”
“Be careful,” said Ravna. Maybe she
“Hei, I’ll be fine without Ritl!” Amdi was already running on ahead of their wagon, and shouting something to one of the few official-looking packs in sight.
This might be a frontier village, but it was not small. Amdi eventually returned with directions, guiding them to a pavilion by the town square. “The local boss calls this place ‘The Northernmost End of Civilization.’” Amdi laughed. “Woodcarver would not be amused!”
Ravna walked around their wagon, taking in the view of downtown. Woodcarver had her sculpture, but this was the first place on Tines World where Ravna had seen heroic statuary. Each work depicted a single pack in some grandiose pose, climbing tall on itself to wave around swords and shields. According to Amdi, they all represented the local boss, “Prince Purity.” The pack was no Innmaster; Purity ruled from a huge castle of whitewashed stone. The structure sat on a rise north of town. It was impressive, until you noticed that most of the whitewash covered naked bedrock with a relatively small building at the top. Amdi shrugged. “Except for the wealth that Tycoon’s trade has brought, I figure this guy is phony. Most of the construction I see is new. I’ll bet that ten years ago, Northernmost was a tiny village.”
Jefri was looking around, nodding. “And we know that fifty years ago, this was uninhabited badlands.”
“Purity claims to be a continuous hereditary ruler, back to times of legend.”
“Hmm,” said Jefri. “We’ve seen that sort of lie in some downcoast kingdoms. Woodcarver wannabes.”
Nevertheless, modern-day Northernmost was a bustling place. Across the square, carpenters were putting up wooden stands for tonight’s show—but every other wide-open place was occupied by street vendors. The guy with the “fine cloaks” was selling to packs who were already climbing onto the finished benches. Lots of heads were looking at the shadowed pavilion where the humans were standing.
The parts of Amdi that were in the open gave this audience a grand wave, but his voice stayed local: “This looks like a small version of the South End marketplace, doesn’t it?” He came all back into the pavilion and began putting on Chitiratifor’s glitzy uniform. “Nevertheless, this is the first place we’ve visited where the people actually seem to be intimidated by who’s in charge.” Despite his somewhat ominous words, Amdi sounded chipper. Maybe that was because Screwfloss had tethered Ritl by the kherhogs, well beyond the range of mindsound.
“Do you think he might renege on paying us?” said Ravna.
“Ah,” Amdi said as he fiddled with his last cloak. He hadn’t yet donned the fake tines; that would be the final touch, just before showtime. “He’s more villainous than anyone we’ve run into since we escaped Chitiratifor. On the other hand, I showed him our safe passage from Tycoon. And you know how the airship was flying around here last night? Well, I told him we had Woodcarver’s protection, too.”
“What did he say to that?”
“He tried to laugh it off, but I could tell he was taken aback.” Amdi looked up at Ravna and Jefri. He seemed to notice their anxious looks for the first time. “If he knew Tycoon was after us, we’d be locked up already. I figure if we can keep him wondering, we’ll be okay.”
The show was their best yet. Part of it was the enthusiastic audience. The rumors of the wondrous two-leg circus had had longer to ferment here than anywhere else. And part of it—the strangely pleasurable part—was that all the performers, in some sense even Ritl, had truly gotten their act together.
Ritl started things off, chased by a comically inept Screwfloss. Every time Screwfloss’ leash-carrying member got close, Ritl would skitter away, sometimes to stand mockingly near one of Screwfloss’ others, sometimes to run along the stands and carry on nonsense conversations with the nearest of the audience. The second time around, Ritl found the member-wide servant steps that led to the ruler’s personal seats. Ritl danced along the ledge of the royal box, orating.
Jefri leaned close to Ravna. They were still both hidden from the crowd. “Those are statesmanlike noises,” he said, grinning. “Ritl is coming on like a visiting monarch. I think she’s promising the sun and the moon if the prince will meet her … requests? demands?”
Ravna wasn’t quite so amused. “I just hope she doesn’t get us executed.”
“Well, there is that.”
The crowd was hooting laughter. Maybe nervous laughter. The prince’s private box was draped in deep acoustic quilting that might double as a form of armor. Guard and servant packs stood all around the box, but the interior was as dark as a cave. Pure this prince might be, but he did not project amiable lightness. Ritl didn’t seem to notice, and her boldness was rewarded. Ravna saw three bejeweled heads move into the fading daylight. There were other heads too, but still in the shadows. The prince boomed a response to Ritl, who preened and blathered some reply. Now the crowd’s laughter seemed more natural; Prince Purity too was playing to the audience. Ravna recognized the rippling of his heads as a mocking bow. Everyone but Ritl could see Screwfloss’ leash-carrier sneaking up the steps behind her.
The crowd hooted even louder when Screwfloss pounced and then dragged the arrogant singleton back down the steps. Screwfloss shambled once more around the square, bowing this way and that. Ritl was dragged part of the way, complaining loudly. Ravna made a note to check the beast for cuts and bruises. This was conventional local humor, but Ravna Bergsndot wouldn’t use such excuses.
Then Screwfloss was running back toward the circus pavilion, Ritl racing ahead of him. As she passed into the shadows, the singleton let out an impudent squeak and dived toward Amdi. The eightsome shrank away, and she honked singleton laughter.
“Damned animal!” Amdi said
The high point of the show was still the performance of the “clever singletons.” That was Jefri and his juggling, then Ravna and her rope tricks, and finally some bogus spelling tests intended to impress those who insisted that intelligence meant more than juggling and knot tying. As usual, Jefri got the most attention, though Ravna’s act now included a simple lasso trick. She walked around the square, followed by the spotlights and a sound show from Amdi. She got near enough to the front row packs that they could hear the silence of her mind, and see the awesome flexibility of her hands. As always, there was the goggling surprise of such first encounters, the combination of amazement and uneasiness and interest.
Then Ravna came to Prince Purity’s box. The guards below it were a sharp-eyed bunch. When they looked up at her teetering height, jaws twitched crossbows. No lasso flicking at these fellows. Ravna stepped back and played to the prince in his box. The three crowned heads came forward, and after a moment, another appeared with a puppy on its shoulders. The pack was saying something, complimenting her? Maybe not. One of him was looking back, into the darkness of the box. It was almost as if there was some other pack in there. Who could be so close?
She rose up on the balls of her feet, trying to get a better view into the dark.
“You okay?” Jefri’s voice was a shout from across the square.
“Yes!” She didn’t dare say the truth. Maybe there’d been no humans on that airship because Nevil’s gang had already landed here—and they were here, now!
Ravna danced away from the prince’s box, but now she was seriously distracted. She stumbled on her rope a couple more times, and even botched some of Amdi’s spelling questions.
