The Children of the Sky (55 page)

“Why would a circus just leave these things?” asked Ravna.

“Well, um, they went bankrupt. That’s what the Innmaster told me. He foreclosed on them.” Amdi looked nervously at Ravna and Jefri. “Maybe this gear couldn’t help a troupe of performing packs, but
anything
you do will be new and magical. I thought we could be something like those circuses that come through the Domain. I-I would introduce you and you’d come out and juggle, maybe tie knots…” His voice dribbled off into anxious silence.

Jefri gave the ball another bounce, then glanced at Amdi. “Your idea is lightyears ahead of anything I’ve come up with … but no matter what we do, do you think the Innmaster will let us leave afterwards?”

“I—maybe. I can see how much he’d like to steal you and Ravna. If he guessed Tycoon is looking for you, he’d grab you in an instant. But I think I’ve convinced him that we have Tycoon’s protection. If we do well, I really think he’ll make good on his promises. He’ll give us the circus wagon, these supplies, and half the admission fees.”

Ravna had a different problem: “Is this show going to be out of doors, Amdi?”

“Yes, there’s an arena behind the inn. You couldn’t see it from your side of the winch platform. Why—”

“I know this place isn’t on Chitiratifor’s maps, but since Nevil has moved the orbiter eastwards—”

“Oh yeah!” said Amdi. “I thought about that. The new position still doesn’t have a line of sight on us. I mean, unless he’s moved it
again
.”

Ravna pondered the foolishness of this chitchat. They didn’t really have a choice. Aloud, she said, “So let’s give this Innmaster a show. It sounds easier than playing with arrow trees and crusherbushes.”

That brought a weak smile to Jefri’s face. She could almost see him summon the appearance of confidence. “For sure. And when I was twelve years old, I was a really good juggler.”

Ravna smiled back. She remembered. For several tendays, little Jefri had been a frustrated and frustrating nuisance, bouncing beanbags and sticks in all directions. It had even strained his relationship with Amdi, since the pack of puppies had learned to juggle with ease.

“Okay,” she said. “We’ve cleaned up our outfits. Your costume is still in good shape, Amdi. You just have to come on strong. You’re the Magnificent. What else can you introduce besides the juggling?”

“Knot tying? Can you do that, Ravna?” Amdi was pulling cordage from one of the wheelbarrows.

“Sure.” Better than a Tinish singleton, anyway. “And what about the comic relief?” That was a big part of circus performances in Woodcarver’s Domain.

A glint came into Amdi’s eyes. “I’ve been
thinking
about that.” Three of him were fiddling with a leash, making idle loops of it. “There’s a certain singleton that has been has been making me look the fool. Maybe now I can turn that around—”

As they’d been talking, Ritl had circled in on Amdi and was blabbering more and more loudly. She was now well within Amdi’s personal space. Five of him turned abruptly on Ritl, throwing the leash in a coordinated attack so that the singleton’s neck, forelegs and hindlegs were simultaneously caught in three separate loops. Ritl exploded in shrieking fury as Amdi flipped the creature onto her side. From the loft, Screwfloss hooted laughter.

Amdi stepped back, keeping tension on the various loops of leash. “Where was I?” he said. “Oh, yes. Ritl still needs her costume.” Two of him walked to the far wheelbarrow and took out a conical leather collar. He passed it from member to member, and those standing by Ritl’s head fastened the cone around the critter’s neck.

Ritl twisted about, jaws snapping on empty air. Her hissing spiked painfully loud. The conical collar stuck forward all around her head, drastically reducing her field of view. Her screeching quieted as she seemed to realize her total helplessness.

Amdi noticed the look on Ravna’s face. “I haven’t hurt her, honestly. This is a standard costume for clown singletons. Isn’t that right, Jefri?”

“Um, true.” But Jefri had a surprised expression on his face too. Amdiranifani was so rarely aggressive. More than most packs, the eightsome had sympathy for the oppressed.

“Right! Now it’s time to put on the clown paint.” He passed a couple of dye sticks to Ravna. “I’ll tell you what to draw. Just don’t touch her eyes or tympani and she’ll be fine.”

Ravna looked uncertainly at the two sticks. The handles were especially broadened for easy jaw handling. Amdi had plenty of free members to do the job himself.

“Go ahead, Ravna. The mindsound is awful, even from a singleton. I don’t want any more of me to stand near Ritl.”

“Okay.” Ravna knelt beside the animal, drew her hand in a gentle petting stroke along its back, much as the Children did with their Best Friends. Ritl shrieked and tried to scratch at her, but gradually settled back.

“Now start with big pink circles around the shoulder and haunch tympana…”

It took about fifteen minutes, and Jefri helping with the other colors, but in the end Ritl was dolled up more than any member Ravna had ever seen, including Godsgift.

When they were done, Amdi refastened the leash to a clasp that hung from Ritl’s collar. Then he let it go loose. Ritl was quiet for a second, then raced across the stable to where the brightest bit of sky light shone on the straw. The singleton spun around and around, futilely trying to get a look at what they had done to its body. Finally, the poor thing got tangled up in the leash again and tipped over.

“See?” said Amdi, though not quite with perfect enthusiasm. “The audience will think it’s hilarious.” He pointed a snout upwards. “Screwfloss thinks it’s hilarious.”

In fact, Screwfloss’ heads were rippling up and down in amusement. That cut short when Amdi sang out a sequence of chords that meant something like “now it’s your turn,” and gestured at the remnant to come down to ground level.

All heads but one jerked back, out of sight. Ravna heard sullen gobbling. Amdi replied with something cheerful. Three of him gathered up the dye sticks, the others looking up and gesturing to Screwfloss.

One by one, the remnant came down the ladder, the limper last of all. The four grouped at the bottom, glowering at Amdi.

Ravna and Jefri exchanged glances, and Jefri said, “Be careful, Amdi. Remember who that is.”

“I … I remember. I’m not going to force anything on him.” Amdi started toward the far end of the stable, where the harness gear was hung. It was cozy, but with enough room for two packs to have a private chat. After a moment, Screwfloss followed suspiciously. The two disappeared behind the harness racks. There was the sound of quiet discussion. “I can’t tell what they’re saying,” said Jefri. Half a minute passed and still no battle sounds. The loudest sounds in the stable were the kherhogs fidgeting in their stalls and Ritl hissing to herself.

It was getting noisy outside. Ravna recognized the wheezy music that announced entertainment events.

Screwfloss and Amdi broke off their rehearsing. Amdi hustled around the stable, getting everyone together, making sure the necessary props were all in a single wheelbarrow. Screwfloss moved close to the door. His smudged disguise had been wiped away—not that a disguise made sense this far from Woodcarver’s Domain. Now his pelts were decorated with a black and white checkered pattern. He held Ritl on a leash. Screwfloss didn’t look happy, but that might have been Ritl’s fault. Ravna walked over to give the pack some encouragement. Screwfloss looked up at her and spoke the first Samnorsk she’d heard from him since the night that part of him died: “We make big laugh. You see.” One of him gave her a gentle bump.

Outside, a pack thumped on the door and gobbled loudly.

“They’re ready, guys!” said Amdi. “Ravna, please get on my general left.” Jefri was already standing on the other side of the eightsome. “Don’t worry. Don’t worry. I’ll give you plenty of cues. We’ll be okay!”
Wail.

The door was already sliding open, the music shifting to a fast tempo. Screwfloss lurched into the daylight, Ritl perforce accompanying him. Beyond the musicians (one or both of their guards were making all the wheeze), Ravna could see a well-spaced crowd, nothing like the mob of earlier in the day.

Screwfloss still had his limp, but now he was faking another limp on the other side of himself. The two of him who were holding the leash walked close together as if they were suffering from lateral hearing impairment. It was the gait he’d been practicing since he’d finished putting on the checkered makeup. Ritl might not be acting a part, but her dogged efforts to inconvenience her “master” were a perfect foil for Screwfloss’ performance: the fool and the fool’s pet. It was cruel medieval humor, and the crowd’s laughter drowned out the music.

Then Amdi stepped out into the daylight, flanked by the two humans. The crowd’s laughter faltered, and there were wondering hoots. The two guards walked forward, clearing the way. One of them was dragging the barrow like a small cart.

“Just stroll along after the guards,” said Amdi. “The Innmaster told me these are paying customers, charged double to see us both here and then again for our performance.”

The guards followed a flagstoned path leading to the inn. There were wagons parked everywhere, even near where the winch platform sat like a cockeyed gazebo in the roar and the mist of the waterfall.

More packs were watching from the portico of the inn, but now the guards swung wide around that building, leading both the performers and the high-paying customers on a long parade that ended at the largest amphitheater Ravna had yet seen on Tines World.

Amdi’s troupe paused under awnings at the edge of the arena, hidden from the view of the crowd.

The Innmaster walked to the center of the arena. The flagstones were fitted in an intricate design, but here and there were dark splatter marks that were not part of the design.
Ugh.
Animal sacrifice?

The Innmaster was giving some sort of speech. That went on for only a few seconds before there were shouts from above, and a then a steady chanting from all sides. Amdi had a couple of heads in public view, but the rest of him was crouched down. “Hei! They’re shouting ‘We paid our money and we don’t have to listen to you!’”

Out on the arena, the Innmaster tossed his heads in a disgusted gesture, and stomped off to his box in the grandstands.

“Does that mean we’re on?” said Ravna.

The eightsome huddled down lower.

“Amdi?” said Jefri, cajoling from the pack’s other side. “You’ve done fine so far. Go!”

“I, I, I haven’t had enough time to plan. I—”

The crowd chanted louder and louder. A very rotten yam splashed across the awning, sending little splatters down on Screwfloss. He made a disgusted noise and lost his close hold on Ritl’s leash. The singleton bounded into the open, her caution of earlier in the day forgotten. She ran in a wide arc, all the while gobbling loudly. She stopped, pranced about on her rear legs for a moment, then lost sight of the ground behind her collar/blinder and tipped over. She bounced up, still shouting. She was bragging about something, almost certainly nonsensical. But the eerie thing was how much she sounded like the Innmaster giving
his
spiel.

The crowd’s chanting turned to laughter.

Ritl hesitated, nonplussed. She hopped back and forth, demanding serious attention. When the laughter just came louder, she charged the nearest of the tiered stands—and was hauled up short by Screwfloss’ leash. She darted off to the side, pulling on the leather. Meanwhile, Ravna noticed Screwfloss’ heads bobbing in surprised amusement. He slid a glance in Amdi’s direction, and then—still out of sight of the audience—very deliberately dropped the leash.

In the arena, poor Ritl almost fell over again. Then she recovered and ran along the edge of the stands, trailing her very long leash.

Screwfloss bumbled out into public view, his members covered with that checkered design, limping on two sides. He chased after the singleton’s leash, remarkably missing it again and again. Finally he did a four-way body flop on the stone flags, trapping the leather somewhere under himself. He rose, the leash grasped firmly in four pairs of jaws. He bowed triumphantly, and started making his own speech. But the fool’s pet was not cooperating: Ritl ran round and round the foursome, faster and closer as the length of free leash diminished.

Finally, Screwfloss tripped on the leash. He staggered around, squawking indignation. The crowd thought this was still funnier. More rotten vegetables splattered down, but this was crude applause. One caught Screwfloss on a shoulder, splashing color across his checkered design. Ritl seemed to be laughing about this, but she had her own missiles to avoid, and without success.

Screwfloss dithered in apparent panic, then all of him turned toward where Amdi and company were hidden. Even Ravna could see the melodrama in his pose. His Tinish plea meant something like: “Master.
Master!
Come out!”

And so Amdi was forced into action. He gave a low, heartfelt wail … and bounded into the arena.

The laughter changed to cheers, and the rain of rotten vegetables ebbed. Amdi was walking more proudly than Ravna had ever seen him, with the ones in the middle pointing their heads straight up. If this were a human, it would be a guy holding his arms up for the audience’s acclaim.

Jefri slid across the space Amdi had vacated. He had a huge, wondering grin on his face.

“What’s he saying?” asked Ravna.

“It’s too fast for me. He’s promising them things—”

Consider the local dialect differences, Amdi was probably talking too fast for much of his audience—but maybe that just added to the glamour. Amdi waved grandly to Screwfloss and Ritl. The two left the arena, still very much in character—though Ravna was convinced their behavior was only an act for one of them. Screwfloss slid under the awning and tied Ritl to one of the wood pillars. He was grinning and grumbling—and taking turns trying to swab the juice off his pelt. He glanced across at Ravna and Jefri and there was something wicked in his smile, something that seemed to say “your turn is next!”