Wisdom's Kiss (38 page)

The Booted Maestro at last halted his oration to oversee several laborers attempting to attach a so-called
Sultan's
Throne
to the Globe d'Or's basket, though why the stout old sultan would elect to sit midair, dangling like the last bite on a kebab, I can't imagine. I employed this time to converse with the acrobat who sailed your sister about the stage last night, intending to scold him for enabling Dizzy's extravagant display; I am glad I held my tongue for he proved to be remarkably charming. In fact he was quite eager to share the secrets of his magical flight, showing me the Globe d'Or's block and tackle that effortlessly lowers and lifts him, and describing how he calculates the length of wire needed for each jump. He was about to reveal the harness beneath his clothes when he caught my baffled look. "You seemed so worried about your granddaughter," he explained, "that I wanted to assure you she is safe." Oh, irony! I had not heart to explain it is her
reputation
and not her bones for which I fear! He even presented me with an extra scrap from the skin of the Globe d'Or, assuring me that the patch was otherwise useless, as no one could get a needle through it—one small reassurance that perhaps the Globe itself is immune to punctures. Let us hope so, at least until Wisdom survives her display this evening.

Yes, Granddaughter, her performance will happen. I cannot halt it. Hoping to bend his ear, I even returned to Rüdiger's quarters after my tour, but the emperor was otherwise occupied with the duke and duchess. My grief doubled when I returned to our suite to find your sister stitching with unprecedented enthusiasm her white gown for the upcoming performance. The blush that came to her cheeks when the page arrived to escort her to "practice" made my heart sink all the further.

Needless to say, I refrain from discussing with her the wonderful news of your romance, for infatuation smothers empathy, and your sister bears too little of that virtue as it is. But trust me, Teddy: you are in my thoughts.
While my inked words require five days to reach you, I hope that their spirit crosses forthwith the plains of Farina and the
mountains
of
Sottocenere
to touch your heart. I await your correspondence with bated breath and beating heart, and can only hope that the delay means the letters, once arrived, will be even more elating.

Your useless grandmother,
Ben

8
TH EDITION

Printed in the Capital City of Rigorus
by Hazelnut & Filbert, Publishers to the Crown

ELEMENTAL SPELLS
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Chemistry, meteorology, mineralogy, hydraulics: these and myriad other natural and applied sciences grew from mankind's understandable curiosity about the four natural elements. This same impulse, unfortunately, has also led to distasteful shortcuts and outright chicanery. Into this latter class fall the Elemental Spells. First cataloged by itinerant storytellers during the reign of Gustav I,
this alleged magic purportedly gives its wielder the ability to create elements supernaturally via the spells of Elemental Fire, Elemental Water, Elemental Earth, and
Elemental Air
. The Kingdom of Montagne, sullied for many generations by association with witchcraft, was the initial locus of this myth, though similar tales emerged in other corners of the empire; raconteurs in the Sultanate of Ahmb describe a flaming-haired demoness who draws water from the sky, an understandable illusion for that arid country. In the last century two separate and respected imperial committees devoted to the eradication of fantastical thought proved the impossibility of the Elemental Spells, which subsequently faded from popular consciousness and today serve as little more than an amusing anecdote, when they are remembered at all.

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Never in my life have I been so insulted—it is a travesty that the emperor has ruled for nigh on three decades with such unmitigated incompetence!

Today he had the audacity to assert that Farina
impoverish
itself—simply to satisfy his latest imbecilic whim!

I should expel him at once—
and
cancel Roger's engagement to that cheap little tart, after the spectacle she made of herself last night—but Montagne is almost in my grasp!

Therefore—it pains me beyond measure to scribe these words—I have made a
concession
.

I must pay a penny to earn a pound, for the wealth of Montagne will soon be ours—
if
the emperor acquits himself properly.

I have no faith in the man—or should I say the showman—but he has proved to be as pathetically malleable as every other disaster of virility inflicted upon this suffering earth—I must not consider my hardship too severe, as I have once again applied another's weakness to Farina's advantage!

I believe I shall enjoy tonight's performance very much indeed.

FELIS EL GATO

Impresario Extraordinaire ♦ Soldier of Fortune
Mercenary of Stage & Empire

LORD OF THE LEGENDARY
FIST OF GOD
Famed Throughout the Courts and Countries of the World
&
The Great Sultanate
*
THE BOOTED MAESTRO
*

W
RITTEN IN
H
IS
O
WN
H
AND
~A
LL
T
RUTHS
V
ERIFIED
~
A
LL
B
OASTS
R
EAL

A Most Marvelous Entertainment,
Not to Be Missed!

***

TO THIS DAY I consider "The Demon Vanquished" one of the crowning moments—if not the absolute pinnacle—of Circus Primus, and upon closing my eyes can still recall every step and stroke of that superlative act. Such dramatic narrative! Such dazzling swordsmanship! Such romance! Such pathos as the demon descended, arms akimbo, in the throes of death! Most remarkably, this extraordinary spectacle was created in only a few short hours. While dueling (of which I had no small experience, to be sure) and acrobatics both held a long and honored role within the circus, it was the recent acquisition of the Globe d'Or that permitted the most brilliant combination of these two arts; on this momentous evening the elements, graced with
Wisdom,
fused at last.

To best capture my genius, I shall describe the scene through the eyes of an awestruck spectator.

The stage opened with Princess Wisdom—outfitted most beguilingly in a gown of white—arranged motionless on a bier. Guarding her was a frightful, red-caped demon who frolicked menacingly about his prisoner. In a burst of exultant music, a winged angel entered stage left and with gleaming sword confronted the fiend, who drew his own black blade in response. With a clang of steel, the foes clashed: lunge, feint, riposte, transfer, coup! Footwork, bladework, as only a master swordsman such as myself could manage. And then the demon took flight—pursued by his virtuous opponent! As they fought midair, the gasps of the audience revealed that every viewer saw too well the peril inherent in this battle. One wide stroke could slice a wire and send either performer smashing to his death; thus was every eye doubly captivated. No,
trebly
captivated; I cannot but acknowledge the contributions of Her Highness, for even recumbent and immobile, the princess held the stage.

Finally the angel with mighty blow slew the demon, who floated down, expired. The angel descended as well and with great passion studied the immobile princess, tenderly (though this gesture was most definitely
not
in the script) brushing a hair from her forehead, his face close to hers. Instantly the princess awoke. Rising to her feet, her hands never leaving the angel's, she began to dance. He joined her, and so passionate was their pas de deux that the two rose bodily into the heavens, until they were not dancing but flying, the princess's skirts trailing like a gossamer chorus.

I had seen enough of their hasty practice to believe Wisdom's innate grace and fearlessness would disguise her dearth of training, and once again my extraordinary perception proved true; her blazing passion heightened further and further still the power of that airborne waltz. When the two ultimately returned to the stage, the princess curtsying most gracefully to His Majesty, the applause that greeted their finale was louder and more sustained than any I in my long life had ever heard. What a contrast this moment served to the chaos immediately following.

A P
LAY IN
T
HREE
A
CTS

PENNED BY ANONYMOUS

Act I, Scene viii.
Circus Primus, with full audience.

Wisdom is posed asleep on the circus stage, guarded by a demon
.
Enter Rüdiger IV, Benevolence and Fortitude
,
and Wilhelmina and Roger with retinue.

BENEVOLENCE
[
to Fortitude
]: Observe the princess immobile. Let us pray she remains so.

FORTITUDE
[
aside
]: How can Princess Wisdom be so lovely and yet so foreboding?

WILHELMINA
[
to Rüdiger
]: You will not forget our pact, Your Majesty.

RÜDIGER
[
to Wilhelmina
]: I could not, Your Most Noble Grace ... Let the performance begin!

An angel battles the demon onstage and midair.

ROGER
: O! Wisdom! I would defend you if I could!

RÜDIGER
: The demon is vanquished! A brilliant performance; I am so proud ... And yet with a touch they leave the script. I am not so pleased with that part.

Wisdom and the angel dance together onstage and midair.

BENEVOLENCE
[
aside
]: Caution, Granddaughter, caution! The passion you display may yet destroy you.

WILHELMINA
[
to Roger
]: With her every touch, the princess cuckolds you. This is not performance but burlesque, and a mockery of this duchy and your rule.

Wisdom and the angel land, then bow to Rüdiger.

WILHELMINA
[
to Roger
]: We strike while the iron is hot ere the iron flees us. Observe my handiwork, Son.

RÜDIGER
: As emperor of this great land, I have many duties, none of which pleases me so much—excepting of course this marvelous circus!—as officiating at the union of man and wife. Therefore, without further ado, I announce that Duke Roger and Princess Wisdom will wed tomorrow.

WISDOM
[
aside
]: So soon! Horrors! My heart shall break!

FORTITUDE
: O! Angel! I know your face!

WISDOM: Speak not with such familiarity to my true love—my angel,
Tips!

TIPS
: Is it—my eyes deceive me—it is my first and oldest friend. Trudy!

FORTITUDE
: Tips, I have found you at last—in the arms of another!

Fortitude faints. Wisdom faints.

ROGER
: My darling princess! Now I may race to your rescue!

TIPS
: My first love, and my true love, both fallen ... What awful grief have I brought upon us all? O woe!

WILHELMINA
[
to Rüdiger
]: You bind that harlot to my son by dusk tomorrow, or all of hell will suffer for it.
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