The Arcanum of the Pak-ans ~ Chapter 02

Chapter 2

Young Everett walked through the colourful stalls with his mouth agape. He looked at the peculiar people with the painted faces and the curious costumes who did tricks and winked at him as he passed by them. He saw a group of kids about his age running around, chasing each other, but he didn’t join them. Each hand of his was trapped in his parent’s, who were by his sides.

His mother was a woman with a young face, chestnut-coloured wavy hair and a thin silhouette, and his father a tall man with a kind, child-like face. He felt at peace with them, as they all visited the circus. Everett hadn’t been in one before, though he couldn’t remember why. He was impressed by the atmosphere, the vibrant music, the exotic sights and all the people laughing.

His right hand was freed as his father let go of it, ruffled his hair and left to talk to a man dressed in black, wearing a top hat. The man in turn called for someone else, a man somewhat scary, large by all means, with a whirling mustache.

Everett looked up at his mother. “Mom? What is Dad doing?” he asked.

She patted him on the back. “He’s just buying our tickets. How about you go look at the lion? Look, there are more boys over there. Go and Dad and I will come find you.”

Everett nodded and ran off to look at the great beast. He had heard people say that lions were like big cats. He couldn’t say he agreed. It was more like cats were small lions. It was magnificent, with a golden mane and large paws which Everett would bet his head that they hid huge claws underneath. Suddenly the lion opened his mouth and roared, exposing big teeth which made everyone gape at them in awe. Everett looked around for his parents. They have to see this! he thought.

They were nowhere to be found though. He searched and searched, until he finally spotted them, still talking with the fat scary man. He wondered what sort of tickets those were, to be taking so long to buy and he went through the stalls, trying not to be seen, to listen to what they were saying.

“Look, best offer I can do is 700,” the man said, touching the tip of his swirly mustache.

“What? It is a child we’re talking about!” he heard his father say.

Everett didn’t understand. That was a big number for a ticket, probably. Were they trying to get front seats?

“Please think about it a little more. We were told differently when we decided to come to you,” his mother asked.

“Look, you have to realize, I’m a businessman. I take up offers when they will profit me. And if I change the number… I am crossing a line. No profit for me, you see.” He raised his hands as if in apology, but Everett thought his face didn’t look at all apologetic.

“Please… Just a little more. We came all the way here,” his mother said again. She was clutching his dad’s hand.

The man reached to the inside of his coat and pulled out a big, brown cigar. He took a match out and lit it, breathing out big puffs of smoke in his parents’ faces. “I can’t raise the price too much. He’s small, he won’t be any use to me for at least a couple of years. Until then he’ll be another mouth to feed, another head to shelter. See my point?” he asked, taking the cigar from his mouth with his fat, sausage-like fingers.

Everett tried to edge closer, but he saw his shadow standing out and pulled back. What were they talking about?

“We really need it,” his father said. “You know this is our last resort, we wouldn’t have come if it wasn’t for a good reason.”

“Alright, alright. Last offer, 850,” the man said, glaring at both of them and sticking his hands to his pockets. “You see, I’m in a generous mood today.”

Relief seemed to wash over his father’s face and he saw his mother rubbing her eye and nodding. “I… I’ll go get Everett and you two can take care of the rest. We’ll go watch the show with him, right?” his mother asked.

The fat man breathed out another puff of smoke and laughed coarsely. “The show? Ah, then it’ll be 15 for all three of you.”

“But… we’re in a tight spot here,” his mother said again.

His father patted her on the back. “We’ll settle this here. Go to our son,” he told her.

Everett realized that he should go back to the lion. He ran like the wind, wondering what was happening. Maybe he would ask his mother. He ended up before the beast’s cage again, out of breath, staring as it roared once more. He heard his name being called and he went to meet his mother. She took him by the hand, leading him to the circus’s biggest tent, a large mass with yellow and blue stripes.

“Where’s Dad?” Everett asked.

“He’ll meet us at the entrance,” she assured him.

The boy considered a couple of times asking what they were talking about with the fat man. He remained silent though, feeling guilty for eavesdropping. A man near the entrance of the tent was calling people to go in, and Everett stood with his mother to the side. “He’s late,” Everett said.

“He’ll come. You go ahead, I’ll wait for him and we will both come, okay?”

“But… what about the ticket?”

His mother shook her head. “Don’t worry, I have it. Now go in, sit on the front and hold us two seats and be a good boy, okay?” She kissed him on the forehead and pushed him in the crowd.

Everett felt like he was suffocating in all the crowd, being squeezed by the people around him, but eventually he got in. He found three nice seats in the front and sat down as he was told, but more and more people came in and his parents weren’t there yet. He tried to look to the entrance a few times, but it was so crowded that he couldn’t see past them. The show started and he continued to hold the seats. The young boy sat there in awe, clapping when everybody else did and starting at all the daring acts with his mouth hanging open. He practically forgot everything until it was over and people began to make it to the exit.

“Mom? Dad?” he called, although his voice was getting drowned with all these people. “Mom!” he called again, pushing through people and stumbling on the steps, as he searched for the two familiar faces.

“Mom!” Everett called, jumping up from his sleep. His panic seemed to subside as he realized he was in the horse’s carriage, in his… bed. He pushed off his scratchy blanket and stood up. He was dropped in sweat, even though it was rather chilly outside. Throwing a rag of a jacket on his shoulders he got out.

The three horses were tied outside, their heads facing the ground even though they were standing, indication they were sleeping. Everett walked away on the tips of his toes, knowing that a suddenly awoken horse was one of the worst possible ways to start your morning. He thought of going to get them a few apples, but he couldn't imagine the cook giving him any. She was a grumpy creature who believed that everyone was trying to get more food from her; which was partially true.

Everett clutched the jacket on his shoulders and put his arms through the sleeves. His breath was coming out in little clouds of frost. Without anything better to do, Everett made his way to the big top and went to sit on one of the front seats, like he had in his dream. The stage was empty of course, but it made him feel awe nonetheless, feeling a little as if he hadn't been in a circus before. He didn't remember the last time he had been on a viewer's seat in Circus Mostre.

His mind kept going back to that dream, no matter what he tried to focus on. He hated those kinds of dreams. He had been in the circus ever since he was five, or six, he wasn't even sure but he couldn't remember anything about how he had ended up here. Circus Monstre and its people were the only memories he had.

Once in a while he used to make up stories about where he had come from; he was the son of an acrobat, who fell ill and died long ago. Other times he was the child of a helper Merlin the Magician used to have, who had the same eye colour as Everett, but she had left him with the circus and left. And there were other times when he had this crazy dream about a nice couple whose faces he never saw clearly, who took him to the circus for the very first time and somehow ended up selling him to the ringmaster. He never dared ask about any of his ideas though, for he would be called even stupider than they already considered him. Everyone should remember where they had come from, shouldn't they? What would be more laughable than an already useless child who can't remember that? And with this thought in mind, he always remained quiet.

The walls of the Big Top began to brighten, its yellow turning almost white from the sunlight and its blue getting paler, and he knew the sun was rising. Crossing his fingers, he wished the old hag would be in a good mood and would give him a good breakfast and he hurried towards the "dining tent". Luckily almost no one was there yet. The air smelled of fried eggs and toasted bread, which answered Everett's silent prayer for a good breakfast. The cook barely looked at him when she put a whole fried egg and two slices of bread on a cracked plate. The young boy started gulping down hungrily his food, with a wide smile on his face.

"Oh, it's you, Never Ever!" Someone patted him in the back and Everett looked up, his mouth stuffed with egg and bread. There was only one person who called him Never Ever, and this was Irilus the birdman.

Everett mmmed in delight and continued to eat as the curious man joined him. Irilus wasn't actual birdman of course, but that was his role in the circus's freak show. There were people working for Circus Monstre which were actual freaks, but Irilus couldn’t be one of them. He had come up with all sorts of tales about a race from a land far, far away, of people winged, birdmen like him, who were extinct, but their descendants still walked among men. It was true that he had wings; sort of. A large pair of bones in the shape of wings was curled on his back, but no matter how good a storyteller Irilus was, Everett was sure that it was part of his costume. The visitors could believe whatever they wished.

“It’s rare, seeing you here so early,” Irilus continued. Everett nodded and continued to eat. “There are bags under your eyes so big I could fit half my things in there! Had a bad night’s sleep?”

Everett shrugged. “I hadn’t closed the door right and the cold woke me up,” he lied.

“You do know that I know when you’re lying, right?” Irilus asked, and turned to his breakfast. Everett actually did know. Irilus was such a peculiar man. He was an awfully good storyteller, coming up with countless lies of how he had come to be, he, a mystical birdman, thinking up lie after lie, but still being able to recall all of them in great detail. He could easily read people too, he always found what he had to say to impress or surprise them. But best of all, he could see through lies instantly. Perhaps because he was such a good liar himself.

Everett decided to tell him about the dream. He explained everything with details, as much as he could remember at least, and to his surprise, Irilus seemed interested.

“You worry too much about where you came from. You know that this doesn’t matter to anyone here, right?” the birdman asked.

“Maybe… but I still want to remember. You know, don’t you?”

“Ask me not, and I know. Ask me, and I cannot tell you.”

Everett looked at him in confusion. He never liked a riddle he couldn’t understand. “So you won’t tell me?” he asked after a few moments of thinking on it.

“I have heard that dreams bring old memories to the surface, things you might not be able to remember happening. This one I can tell you.”

The boy nodded, knowing that Irilus wouldn’t give him a better answer than this, if he had decided to speak in riddles. Of all the people he had met in here, Irilus had been the kindest to him, never once trying to scare him or make him feel bad; still, he could never tell what he could be thinking or what he thought of him, so therefore he couldn’t call him a friend either.

A heavy hand slammed down to Everett’’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Boy, get up.” Everett looked up at the ugly cook confused. “You’re finished, aren’t you? I need you to go shopping for me. Here’s a list of what I need.” She shoved a list to his hands, along with a small pouch of money. “I’ve got it counted, I know what I gave you so don’t even think of keeping any for yourself!” she said angrily and turned around, moving one fat leg after the other, until she was out of sight.

Everett held the list in his hands, far from his face, squinting his eyes to make sense of the letters scribbled down.

“Want help?” Irilus inquired, looking at the list over his shoulder.

The boy shook his head and stared harder. There was a “B” over there, and two “G” two lines below. Both words had the letter “E” too… “I’ll read it on my own,” he said stubbornly.

“Can you?” Irilus asked, almost mockingly.

“But of course!” Everett wanted to say with confidence, but he couldn’t. He had never learned to read all the letters since he was dragged here and there to be taught various tricks and acts, and if there was someone who knew that, this was the birdman sitting next to him. “This here is… eggs, right?” he said, the question lingering. “And there’s a twelve in front of them.”

“Correct,” Irilus agreed. “And after that?”

There was that “B” and then after a letter he didn’t know there was “E” and “A”. “Bread,” he said, more certain than before. “And that’s… uh… flora? What could she do with flora?”

Irilus shook his head. “It’s flour. Five pounds of it.” Everett let his head fall in disappointment. “You’ll get it right eventually. If you want I can teach you the rest of the letters sometime. You won’t forget them once you are taught once, I promise.” He nodded. “Okay, then come see me after you’re back. Oh and… before I forget…” The birdman pulled five silver coins out of his pocket, slipped them to Everett’s hand and forced his fingers to close around them. “Since you’re going out, get me some of the usual,” he said, winking.

* * * * *

Everett went down the hill to the city with a heavy heart. He knew he would have to carry everything on his own all the way back, and the sky looked cloudy; he expected rain to start before his return.

In his hurry, the boy tripped a few times on little stones getting in the way and earning the glances of curious bypassers. Ducking his head he continued, in the city with the empty streets. Most people were still asleep, and every step of his echoed through the deserted alleys. He wondered which way the market could be. Usually he would have seen signs pointing towards it, but he had either missed it, or there weren’t many signs around these parts. Eventually Everett came upon a large street, which seemed to go on for a long distance.

It must get me somewhere if I follow this one, he thought and took a left turn. He slipped his hands in his pockets, his left touching Irilus’s cold coins, while his right clutched the worn, leather pouch the cook gave him. He tried to remember how many times they had put money in his hands like that. They were always so certain he would return. With this kind of money, he could last for at least two weeks if he were by himself. Then he could live on with picking wallets. He had seen the clowns do it, it wasn’t too hard.

And where would I go? What would I do? he asked himself. Of course he couldn’t answer that. No matter how many times he had thought of running away, he never knew where to run to. And what would he do if he ran? At least he had some options in the circus. Acrobat, clown… or in the worst case human cannonball.

He noticed a few people looking at him through curtains in the rich-looking homes. Of course they’d be wondering what a little mut like him was doing in their neighborhood. He put his head down and fastened his pace. Let’s do the shopping and be done with this, he thought to himself and with that plan in mind he moved forward. What he didn’t notice though was the group of tall boys with freckled skin coming around the corner. Everett bumped into them and staggered back.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, pulling his newsboy hat so low it touched the bridge of his nose and walking around them quickly.

A bony hand gripped him before he could make five steps though. “Where do you think you’re going?” The boy flicked a finger on Everett’s hat. It fell on the ground with a quiet thump. “You bumped into us, don’t you think that we need more than a simple apology?”

Trying not to look at them in any way that could offend them more, Everett observed their faces. They were a group of five, expensive-looking leather bags hanging from their shoulders, dressed in tailor-made blue jackets, all with blond and orange hair and a mocking expression. The two in the back snickered and whispered something to each other.

“Look, I meant to harm,” Everett said. They seemed like they wanted to mess around a bit, but he hoped he could talk his way out of it.

“No, huh?” asked the same boy who spoke first, pushing him back. Instinctively Everett tried to walk back, but found himself against the wall. “I’m not quite sure we agree with you about that. Right, Tom? Did he look like it was an accident to you?” he asked, turning to a blond boy, the tallest of them all. Tom shook his head, grinning.

“I…” Everett started but trailed off. It wasn’t like he had something to say. He was trying to buy himself some time. It was morning, someone was bound to come out of a house eventually and they would scram.

“You…?” Tom asked, his grin growing a little louder. He cracked his knuckles audibly. Everett squeezed his eyes shut the moment he saw the boy’s hand move.

“Oiiii! Laddies,” called a familiar voice. Everett opened his eyes, just a crack, to see what was happening. All five of the boys had turned around and were looking at the man who had spoken, standing on the other side of the street. He was holding up his hand and there was something there. “Anybody dropped this?” He shook the thing in his hand and when the glass gleamed in the light, Everett realized it was a wristwatch.

One of the snickering boys checked both his wrists and making a face less intelligent than that of a monkey, he walked up to the man to take it.

“Hey, hey, calm down,” the man said as the boy grabbed the watch. “Ye should be more careful with yer things, lad. Take care!” he continued with a grin.

The rest of the boys followed the first and they all walked away, throwing suspicious glances at the man. In the meantime, Everett picked up his hat, dusted it off and put it back onto his head. Before he knew it, Merlin was standing before him, with a radiant smile that almost reached his eyes.

“Thank you, is what you say now,” he said, bumping the boy’s shoulder.

“I was fine on my own,” Everett shot back angrily. “I needed no one’s help.” He started walking again.

“Oh, but I’m sure you did.” Merlin followed him, catching up with the youngster’s fast strides easily. “The marketplace is in the opposite direction.”

Everett stopped, making his hands into two tight fists in annoyance. “I knew that.”

“But of course.”

“I don’t like it when you’re making fun of me,” Everett said seriously.

“Well, who does? But I’m not making fun of you. I merely came out for a walk and saw you struggling, so I thought I’d come and help you out.”

Everett nodded. “Yeah, right.” He turned to walk to the direction Merlin had pointed, sneaking glances back at the magician. Even in regular clothes, a simple white shirt and a gray vest, he somehow still looked like a magician. Perhaps it was the trickster’s face he always wore like a mask glued to his skin. “So…” the boy started, lowering his voice. “What did you get from them?”

Merlin raised his eyebrows innocently. “Whatever could you possibly be talking about?” he said in a voice so loud that a man who was just opening his shop turned around to look at them.

“I want half.” Everett raised his hand expectantly.

“Half? Are you insane?”

“I kept them distracted, it was half of the job, right? So half is what I deserve. Come on.”

Merlin exhaled audibly, clearly frustrated. It was obvious he was looking for a way to get out of it. “And what would you do with it? You’re practically a toddler. What would you do with any amount of money?”

“That’s my business. Give it now.” Everett was looking straight ahead, holding his hand up steadily, just like Irilus had taught him. You are what you state. If you seem confident, others will think that you are confident. “Or I might ask this good shopman where the nearest police station is. I might have witnessed a robbery that I want to report.”

“You wouldn’t!” Merlin exclaimed. Everett could imagine him making an exasperated face, but he didn’t turn his head to check.

“Oh, I don’t know, good sir. I’m an obedient little boy.” Everett continued with his act, until a certain amount of coins landed with a clink on his palm. “Nice doing business with you,” Everett said, winking at the bemused magician.

“You’re full of surprises, kiddo. You got me good this time.” Merlin chuckled to himself for his own stupidity as they both walked into the marketplace.