Pantomime (34 page)

  "That was incredible," Aenea breathed.

  "I agree." I did not remember this from my last visit. We shadowed the noble couple, trying to be inconspicuous. The boy asked to see everything.

  "You can only choose one more thing to see, my darling," the mother said. "Look at everything and then choose the one that seems the most interesting."

  "You're no fun, Mummy," the boy pouted.

  "I know, darling," she said, smiling down at him. "But you'll thank me later. Now, hurry along." She watched him run to the next display case. She had that plain, interbred look about her that some noblewomen had, but she had a kind face and gentle manner of speaking. I wondered which family they were. The little boy could very well be my adopted third cousin thrice removed.

  At the far end of the section was the artefact I remembered from my last visit. The boy had discovered it as well and turned to his parents, triumphant.

  "I wanna see this one, please?" he asked his father, though the polite cadence seemed forced and practiced. I squeezed Aenea's hand. "This one is my favorite," I whispered into her ear.

  It was a clockwork woman's head. She was life-sized, and her proportions were Alder – large eyes, high cheekbones and eyebrows, long neck. Even at rest, a muffled ticking could be heard through the glass. Her face had a strange skin, realistic in every way but for the fact it was transparent. The gears and pulleys of her face visible underneath looked to be made of brass. Her eyes were uncannily real, the irises a strange mixture of blue, green, hazel, and topaz, the eyelashes copper. The eyelids blinked occasionally. The father put the coins into the slot. Everyone else who had been following the noble couple gathered around again.

  The clockwork woman awoke. She shook her head, blinked rapidly, and twitched her pale pink lips. She yawned, and her tongue was as mechanical as the rest of her, the teeth impossibly even and white. Her face settled into a pleasant smile and she stared straight ahead, almost expectant.

  Below the glass of the display were ten brass knobs that could be pulled. Each was labeled with an emotion: happy, sad, scared, angry, bored, sleepy, surprised, mocking, impatient, and lusty.

  "You can't pull this one," the mother said hurriedly, standing in front of the last lever. "But any of the others."

  The boy giggled and tugged on "happy." The woman's face laughed, though no sound emerged. She looked positively joyful – eyes shining, enthusiasm radiating from every line. Most of the crowd could not help but smile in response. Her face relaxed into its earlier repose when the boy let go.

  He pulled "sad." The woman's face became heartbreaking. Her eyes somehow grew bigger, and a tear of oil slid down one cheek, rolling off of the strange skin without leaving a mark. Her face collapsed into grief and she sobbed, again silent. The boy let go of the knob in surprise. Her face became serene.

  The boy worked through the emotions, and each was perfectly executed. If the disembodied woman had not had translucent skin, I would have taken her for a real Alder woman. Her anger made us wince and recoil, her fear made us wish to comfort her, when she looked as if she were about to doze off, I half-expected someone to start singing her a lullaby. Her surprise made us jump, her mocking look and the twist of her lips as she mouthed presumed obscenities made us cower, and her boredom and impatience made us wish to entertain her. I could only imagine how her lust would have affected us. We would all have blushed to the roots of our hair. The Alder could not have been that different from us, to have such similar emotions.

  The boy made her happy again, and then the time ran out and she returned to her normal state, ticking softly. The crowd dissipated, their faces pensive, leaving us alone by the glass display of the clockwork woman.

  "Excuse me," Aenea said, clasping a hand over her mouth and left the room. I wasn't sure if she was frightened of the head or just needed a moment to herself. I was about to follow her, but then I heard it.

  "Kedi," a voice whispered. I whipped my head around, my stomach dropping to my knees, my skin instantly clammy.

  "Kedi," I heard again. The clockwork woman's head had not moved. Or had it? Her face had turned. She was looking right at me.

  "Kedi." Her mouth formed the words, her gaze bored into mine. There was intelligence there, and hunger, and a fierce hope.

  "Two Hands. Penmoon. Penglass. Copper," she said, still staring right at me. "Kedi."

  What did that mean?

  I felt a touch on my shoulder. I yelled and twirled.

  Aenea jumped away from me. "Micah!" she said.

  I rested a hand on my chest, willing my heartbeat to stop galloping.

  "Are you all right?" she asked.

  "I'm fine. You startled me. I'm sorry."

  "Did she frighten you, too?" she whispered, her eyes darting to the clockwork woman.

  I snuck a glance at the head. She was as she had been before, staring straight ahead, ticking softly.

  "It's too real." Aenea's voice was husky. "How could they make something that real?"

  "I don't know," I said, taking her hand. "I really don't."

  "It was as if she had been guillotined and then imprisoned."

  "It does." I wondered what had happened to the rest of her body.

  Aenea pressed a finger against the glass, leaving a fingerprint.

  Before we left her, I read the placard of the clockwork woman. She had been found in a deep cave just outside of the city. The head had rested perfectly on a small mound of Penglass, staring at the explorers as if waiting for them. Different pressure points at the base of her neck triggered the different emotions, and when one of the explorers picked her up, he triggered anger, which caused him to drop into a faint, and she almost toppled into a crevice. The image was an arresting one, but it would have probably been odder if he had triggered lust, or boredom.

  But the small print at the bottom of the plaque caused a rushing in my ears. I rested a hand against the glass to steady myself.

  
From the private collection of Doctor Samuel Pozzi.

 

We left the museum and blinked in the bright light of day. I felt miles away, my mind reeling from that small engraved name, and from the whispered words from a mechanical mouth. What did it mean? Who was Doctor Pozzi, the man who gave me to my parents, and why had a relic from his collection spoken to me? Had the Damselfly once been his as well? These thoughts floated through my mind until I felt as though I would drown in question marks.

  Aenea let me wander in silence before poking me in the shoulder, drawing me back to myself.

  "Thank you for taking me there today," she said.

  "Did you enjoy yourself?" I asked, remembering how the clockwork woman had affected her. Though not as much as she had affected me.

  "It was wonderful. Beyond wonderful," she said. "The woman's head frightened me something fierce, I won't lie, but everything else was just… beyond words. The 'Chimaera Dance' was my favorite."

  "Mine, too."

  She smiled at me. "I'm hungry."

  "Me, too." I said, though the thought of food twisted my stomach.

  "You're always hungry."

  "Ravenous!" I said, pushing the thoughts of the clockwork woman and her plaque firmly from my mind. I drew the human woman I cared for into a hug and nibbled her neck. She laughed and batted me away.

  "The big summer market is on. Dot and Ellen were planning to go there this morning. It's a bit of a walk, but the food will be interesting and cheaper than a restaurant or coffeehouse."

  "Excellent idea, my fairy of the trapeze." I held out my arm.

  She took it and made a face at me, and the expression reminded me of the mechanical woman. I swallowed and took her arm.

 

Sicion's marketplace was a dwarf compared to the Imacharan's giant. Like Sicion, it was divided into levels, but each level was as large as a tenement building. Merchants were packed as tightly as they could be, the shoppers jostling and pushing each other to make their way through the throngs.

  The press of the crowd was almost too much for me, and I took deep breaths. I held a hand over my coin purse. Cutpurses would be everywhere.

  We followed our noses to the small stalls with sizzling meats and vegetables. We bought two Byssian dishes, a wrap made of a grain so dark it was almost black, filled with piping hot pork, peppers, onions, courgettes, and a spicy red sauce. Our eyes watered as we ate standing, and we washed down the fare with cold, tart lemonade.

  "My mouth is still aflame," I gasped when we were finished.

  "Mine too," Aenea said, fanning her fingertips in front of her pink face.

  We found the sweets and purchased pastries. Aenea had one stuffed with almond paste and cherries, and I had one with chocolate and coffee mixed into the dough. We shared bites with each other, each proclaiming that ours was tastier. Aenea's laugh and banter distracted me from the cold pit of fear in my stomach that even the spicy food could not warm.

  We explored the marketplace, and we jostled among the crowd, our ears battered by people yelling and bartering, the call of caged birds, and the sounds of the carriages driving over the cobblestones.

  "Looking for anything in particular?" I asked Aenea as we battled our way to the clothing section.

  "I'd like to buy a new dressing gown. My current robe has ripped and is badly faded."

  We found a Lindean shop and Aenea selected a dressing gown similar to the one she had before, but with fish instead of birds.

  "You'll have to model it for me later," I said.

  "If you're nice."

  "I'm always nice."

  She snorted, eyes twinkling.

  A garment caught my eye; a Lindean chest binder. The shop woman to this stall wore one, and her chest was flat as any boy's. Lindean woman abhorred large breasts, thinking them immoral and too tempting to men. My bandages itched beneath my shirt, and I knew I would return for the binder. The scabs on my chest would turn to scars before too much longer.

  We wandered throughout the clothing shops, marveling at the strange pantaloons of the Kymri, the scandalous female garb of Temnian women, who, in total polarity to Lindean women, walked about bare-breasted in the sweltering heat of the jungles. A man stopped and stared at the mannequin's proud wooden bust in amazement, and then crudely asked the saleswoman why her chest was covered.

  "Too cold and too crass here," she replied with a wink and a heavy accent. I suspected it was a well-rehearsed answer.

  The marketplace sold everything except for Vestige. They were too valuable to sell in a stall, where nimble fingers could spirit them away. My eyes drank in the sights, my nose the smells, my fingers slyly touched the wares. I did not think I would ever be able to walk through a market without being in awe of how many coins' worth of products surrounded me.

  The spice floor brought back memories of Mister Illari. I began to ask the vendors if any of them knew a Mister Illari in Sicion. They shook their heads. Aenea followed me, puzzled. Finally, I found one who knew him. He was also elderly, his face as brown and wrinkled as a walnut hull.

  "Aye, I know him well. Good man. Heard tell he took ill, has been staying at home and his boy going to market for him."

  "Do you go to Sicion often?" I asked eagerly.

  "Aye, most every month or so."

  "If you see Calum or Mister Illari, can you tell them that Micah has found his way? Please?"

  The man nodded. "Sure enough. How you know him?"

  "They were both very kind to me when I needed it most. I wanted to thank them, but I don't think I'll be returning to Sicion for some time."

  "I'll pass it along for you. Keen on any o' my spices? They're far better than Illari's." He winked.

  "I'm not so sure, but I'll take some cinnamon, please. Would you like anything?" I asked Aenea. She bought some dried lavender.

  I thanked him and pocketed the paper-wrapped cinnamon sticks, a smile on my face.

  "So who's this Mister Illari, then?" Aenea asked as we made our way back to the circus.

  "Not long after I ran away, I went to the Sicion market and watched people all morning, not sure what else to do. A Policier pointed me to Mister Illari, who hired me to carry his chests of spices to his cart. He was nice to me. Fed me, gave me a bit of money, and gave me a place to sleep for a few hours. Told me stories. He's the man who gave me the Kedi figurine."

  "That's sweet, though I still don't see why you'd want that thing," she laughed.

  "I'll tell you someday," I said, meaning it.

  "Aye, sure you will," she said, taking my arm in hers. "Come along, we better hurry or we'll be late."

 
 

  I met all my suitors: each I abhor.

  This one snivels and that one cruelly sneers –

  How can my father think these men my peers?

 

  Weighted down head to toe in jewels and lace.
 

  With these grooms I dread my own wedding day,
 

LEANDER & IONA, Godric Ash-Oak

 

After the circus was set up, we had a week to practice and make sure that the spacing for the equipment was just so. But on the first morning, neither Bil nor Frit arrived. The performers stood around the ring and looked at each other nervously.