more. Mind full to bursting with questions, questions, questions. Questions he couldn't put a name to. Questions he didn't know he wanted to ask. A whole tangled fishing net of questions suddenly dragged from the depths and needing an answer. All boiling and roiling about, tantalizing silver flashes of questions, but nothing that could be picked out in all that frantic wriggling.
As his mind raced through all these things Arlain was observing him closely with her dragon eyes-wonderful eyes, eyes like an eagle, eyes that could see far and near and everything in between, eyes that could look into your heart.
Palimak desperately wanted to make some meaningful gesture-something that would show Arlain how close in nature and kind he felt to her. But he was only a boy and he hadn't the words, so in the end he blurted:
'Look at this!' Grinning and holding out a hand, eyes suddenly flaring yellow as claws needled out from his fingers. Then he leaned forward, blew on the claws and his breath became a swirl of colors-a magical imitation of Arlain's dragonfire-playing it across the claws, turning them this way and that as if in forge. Then there was a slap! as the colors burst and Palimak held up a hand that was quite ordinarily human again.
'See?' he said, a whole flood of meanings intended in that single word.
Arlain blinked-and to Palimak she caught all his meaning in that blink-then she clapped her hands in delight, making his heart leap.
'Oh, my goodneth grathiouth,' she said. 'That'th marveloth! You thould be in the circuth!'
Palimak goggled. 'Really?' he said. Then, doubtful. 'You're not just saying that to be nice, are you?'
Arlain drew herself up, dignified. 'Thirtainly not! I know a born thowman when I see one!'
Then she leaned close and asked, 'Would you like me to teach you?'
Palimak's eyes became very wide and very round. 'Sure,' he said, heart drumming, thinking of all the things he had seen at the performance, flipping through the thrilling feats and excitement, picking what he like best.
And he said, shy, 'Could I learn how to be a clown?'
Safar glanced across the tent, smiling, a little drunk at the sight of Arlain and Palimak together. Biner, sloshing drink into their cups, followed his gaze, then back again, understanding and enjoying Safar's smile.
'Damnedest' thing 'bout the circus,' Biner said, 'is she always finds her own.' He examined his cup, grinning at memories of old times. 'Look at how it was with you,' he said. 'Layin' out in the middle of the desert, mostly dead, then the circus comes along, sees its kindred, and swoops you up. Next thing you know you're earnin' your keep wowin' them at the fairs.'
'It seemed like a miracle at the time,' Safar said, remembering Methydia's great airship sweeping across the desert toward him. Then he thought of what happened later-all the glorious circus adventures, the applause, the camaraderie, the long nights of loving and learning with Methydia.
And he said, low, 'I guess it really was a miracle.'
Across from them Leiria peeled laughter at some jest told by Elgy. The other performers joined in, waving their arms, spilling their wine, completely wrapped up in the party.
Safar looked at Biner. 'Speaking of miracles,' he said, 'maybe you'd better tell me about this new one before we get too drunk.'
'You mean how we come to be in Caluz?' Biner said.
'Exactly.'
Biner eyed him, owlish, amusement in his eyes. 'Some might call it a miracle,' he said, 'some might call it a coincidence.' He tapped his head. 'Some who thinks they know it all, call it smoke and mirrors.' He made a grand gesture-'Illusion! But no matter how smart they think they are, how sharp-eyed, knowin'
all the tricks, the circus always gets 'em. Pulls them in. Makes them want to believe so much they ignore the wires even when the lightman's drunk and you can see the glint plain as day.'
Safar shook his head, amused. He said, 'Either I'm really, really, drunk,' he said, 'or I'm not drunk enough. But somehow that makes sense.'
Biner sloshed more wine into their cups. 'In questions of drunkenness, lad,' he said, 'it's best to figure you ain't had enough.'
They drank as Biner gathered his thoughts, then he said, 'I'll give you the poster line first.'
He grinned at Safar and said, 'Methydia sent us!'
Safar nearly spewed out his drink.
Biner chortled. 'Got your attention?'
Safar swallowed hard, wiping the spillover from his chin. And he choked, 'Go ahead.'
Ever the showman, Biner said not another word but climbed to his feet, hooking up the wine skin as he rose. He stumped away on his thick, short legs, leading Safar to a room off the main tent. Biner turned up an oil lamp and Safar saw the room was crowded with trunks. They were huge things, heavy with all sorts of circus gear, but Biner pushed them about as if they weighed nothing at all.
When there was enough room he perched on the lid of a vaguely familiar black trunk, covered with leather and bound by thick iron straps. He gestured at a place across from him for Safar to sit, took a slug of wine right out of the skin and passed it to Safar.
'Sad times,' he sighed, 'when last we met.'
The sigh stirred bitter memories, carrying Safar back to another tented room where Methydia was laid out on a rough cot dying; Safar and others gathered about her. Outside a whole city was in flames, people weeping and wailing as Iraj's soldiers led them to their doom. Through the canvas doorway they could see the smoking ruins of the wondrous flying ship that was the heart, body and soul of her circus.
All dead and dying now. Methydia clutching his hand and begging him to forgive Iraj, to go with him, saying it was his destiny. That it was for the good of all.
Safar was young, easily moved by death bed appeals, and he'd agreed. There were rare days that he didn't think that he'd made a grave mistake.
Then he heard Biner speak and he blinked back to the present to hear the dwarf say, 'We wasn't much of a circus after that. Methydia gone. Airship burnt. No spirit in us. So we couldn't put any into the crowds. Our acts felt flat. No spark, no suspense. All of us just going through the motions.
'Not that we didn't care, we just couldn't do anythin' about it. Worse it got, the harder it got. And pretty soon we were hardly sellin' any tickets, cause the word had gone out of ahead of us that we weren't worth seein'.
'We wandered around like that, hittin' whatever fairs we could. Sometimes workin' for not much more'n our suppers.'
Biner smiled at Safar, 'Not that we were in danger of starvin', thanks to you. We had that fat purse of gold you gave us. Which is how we got through those times. Hells, maybe we would've woke up sooner if we didn't have that cushion. Maybe it made it easier to mope and moan and feel miserable. So instead of the best circus in all Esmir, we were the saddest.
'After awhile maybe you even start liking being miserable, although you don't know it.'
Safar nodded. 'I've felt that way myself,' he said. 'It becomes an odd sort of addiction. The emotional version of an opium merchant who loves his wares too well.'
'Ain't that so?' Biner said. Then, 'But one day we woke up. Threw away the pipe and opened our eyes to what was goin' on around us.
'It was at a performance, last show of the last night at a weevily little fair. You know the kind. Where the folks don't have much more'n corn dust in their pockets-and that's wormy.'
Safar smiled. He remembered towns like that when he was in the circus.
'Anyway,' Biner continued, 'there wasn't but maybe twenty people in the house. And they were so bored even some of them were leakin' away. Then it happened. Right in the middle of the big clown act.
Where Arlain's chasin' me around the ring, settin' my britches on fire?
'All of a sudden a kid start's cryin'. And I mean, really, cryin'! It was the most mournful cryin' you ever heard in your life. Like the world was endin' and the kid's scared and wants its momma but then he suddenly knows, way down deep, that when the world ends so does his momma and that is more than he can bear.
'It stopped me right in my tracks. I'm standin' there, ass on fire, but all I can see and hear is that kid, clutchin' at a raggedy woman beside him, bawlin', 'Momma! Momma!' My heart breakin' with every cry.
And I'm not the only one. The whole audience is lookin' at him and pretty soon they're leakin' tears and behind me I hear Arlain say, 'Poor thing,' and I know she's cryin' too. And so were the others, Elgy and everybody.
