13 Secrets (11 page)

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?” Fabian 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.”

Tanya did as she was told.

“Just relax,” the dancer said. “And don’t move a muscle.”

After that she was frozen in place. Because she was unable to see, all her focus was on her hearing. The crowd was restless. The knives clinked as Victor finished polishing them and threw them back onto the table one by one. Then there was another sound—the metallic scrape of a blade being sharpened. Tanya’s legs felt weak beneath her. The crowd stopped their noise and silence reigned once more. She knew then that Victor was about to throw the first knife.

She felt the impact of it hitting the wood next to her right leg. The audience cheered. Tanya closed her eyes beneath the blindfold. The next blade hit on the other side, by her left hand. Three more blades came in regular, short intervals.

A pause followed where nothing came. She strained her ears and heard two sounds: footsteps moving about, and the hiss of metal through the air. It came to her suddenly that Victor was juggling with the knives.

A blade hit the next second, close to her shoulder. Barely a heartbeat later another one landed by her ankle.

A horrid clang was followed by a collective cry from the audience. Victor had dropped one of the knives. Tanya felt sick. Heat rose in her, flushing her skin. She felt sweat slick out of her pores and soak into the fabric of the blindfold. He had
dropped
one of the knives.

What have I done?
she thought, squeezing her eyes shut even tighter.
I’m such an idiot. What if he misjudges as he throws one of the knives?
Then she remembered Rowan’s strange words as she’d left her seat.

He always drops one.

It was a message. The knife had not been dropped by accident. Rowan had been letting her know that it was a deliberate error, to fool the audience into thinking that mistakes
could
be made.

Even so, her limbs ached with the desire to move, to run. But she was fixed in place out of fear as surely as if the daggers were pinning her in place. Then, as she thought she could endure no more, it ended with a spray of blades piercing the wood around her head one after the other.

The crowd went wild. Without warning, the blindfold was pulled from Tanya’s face, and the spotlight finally left her to focus on Victor, his chest heaving with short bursts of breath. He bowed, over and over again, to the audience, many of whom were now standing up and clapping.

As Ariadne helped her step away from the board, Tanya looked back and saw the outline of her skinny figure drawn in knives. Relief flooded through her and she felt a slow grin spread across her face as she stared back into the audience, for as well as cheering for Victor, they were cheering for
her
. She spotted Fabian, whooping and clapping for all he was worth. Next to him even Rowan had broken her sullen stance to put her hands together in applause.

Then Tanya’s eyes found the small boy she had spotted earlier. Unlike everyone around him, he was not clapping or cheering. He simply stared into the arena, looking but not really seeing. Yet he was not the only one motionless in the crowd. Two more figures sitting side by side further back caught Tanya’s attention. Her smile froze on her lips as she recognized them—a dark-skinned young man wearing a green coat, and a beautiful, pale-faced woman in a black, feather-trimmed cloak.

Gredin and Raven stared back at her. Neither of them was smiling.