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.

The Arcanum of the Pak-ans ~ Chapter 01

Chapter 1

The factories’ chimneys were already spitting big puffs of gray smoke. It was a bright autumn morning nonetheless. A few brave rays of sunlight reached the city. The streets were bustling with activity; maids were going to and fro around the marketplace, mothers were pushing strollers through the park and boys were lazily taking the longest route to school, their leather school bags hanging from their shoulders.

The city’s peaceful routine was to be disrupted though by a newly arrived presence; Circus Monstre. The dealers fell quiet in their stalls, the children hushed and the women stopped their chattering halfway, to turn their attention to the large chariots that were crossing the main street.

Loud music enveloped the quiet neighborhood as the circus band followed behind the majestic chariots. Men dressed in matching costumes were blowing with all their might their brass instruments, playing a familiar circus tune. Ahead of them, on top of the first chariot stood a fat man dressed in red, with a top hat on his round little head, a megaphone in one hand, and waving at the people with the other. “Come and see, come and see, to you the world’s greatest wonders we shall bring! Come to Circus Monstre, you won’t regret it, only until this Sunday we’ll be waitin’!” he yelled in a funny, heavy accent.

Behind him goofy clowns with painted faces and coloured wigs juggled balls and did handstands, earning the applause of some bystanding children.

“Come and see, come and see, to the world’s edges we have been! All things odd that we have found, we will show to you around! Come and see, come and see, Circus Monstre will be right next to the old oak tree!”

* * * * *

At the same time, on the outskirts of the big, industrial city, right next to a big oak tree, Circus Monstre’s people were working feverously to set up the Big Top, their largest tent, as well as the stalls and smaller tents that would surround it.

Joe the Great, the circus’s strongman, a man of truly monstrous proportions, was carrying five large poles, while behind him three skinny, short acrobats were struggling with merely one. Martin, one of the tightrope walkers, along with Isaac and Rico, two of the acrobats, were nailing benches and some clowns farther ahead were teasing the tigers in their cages with a slab of meat.

Young Everett was watching them all with glazed eyes, still heavy with sleep. Once again, he had been dragged out of his covers quite violently by Boomer, the circus’s scariest clown. Trying to shake Boomer’s image from his mind, he went back to polishing stalls. Just before leaving, the ringmaster had said he wanted them sparkling when we returned. “I don’t care how, lick them if you have to! I don’t want to see a single grain of dust on them!”

Everett feared the ringmaster as well, but a little less than Boomer. Boomer was always close, always watching him, ready to give him a good scare with the first chance. The fat ringmaster instead prefered to lie in his floppy couch and gulp down rich lunches with the mayor of the city rather than yelling to the likes of Everett.

After four tough years of travelling with the circus, Everett still seemed not to have earned anyone’s respect in there. Everyone continued to treat him like an outsider, a useless little kid. He had trained by the acrobats on tightrope walking and trapeze, unicycling and even rolling globe; he had learned to juggle balls from the clowns and could even do some simple stunts with the hoopers as long as the hoops weren’t set alight, but no one wanted him permanently in their group. He was still sleeping in the horses’ carriage, on top of itchy balls of hay.

“Everett! Are ye deaf boy?!” Olaf grabbed him roughly from the shoulder and turned him around as if he weighed nothing. The boy shrunk himself, lowering his head and lifting his shoulders. “Com’ wit’ me!” With the same ease, he pulled him along the stalls and left him holding a pole.

“But… but the ringmaster had me polishing the stalls…” he muttered quietly.

“Don’t be stupid! We’ll throw some fabric on ‘em anyway, nobody e’er cares if they’re polished ‘or not!” he exclaimed, carrying a pole along. “Now keep that old’ thing still.” Everett nodded and tried to use his whole weight against the pole to keep it straight. “Stephanie, come help him!” Olaf roared at a young acrobat.

Stephanie wasn’t more than six years older than Everett but she was still as tall as him. She had never started a conversation with him, even though she was the one who taught him how to walk on tightrope. She merely walked away when the two of them were left alone, with a sour expression on her face.

“Alright, let’s move to the next one!” Olaf said and had them old the next pole. Everett noticed with relief that weren’t many more that needed nailing, so he could go back to polishing the stalls soon enough. No matter what Olaf said, he had to get the job done, because otherwise he’d be the one who’d get beaten. He couldn’t just blame Olaf for it, no one would ever believe him.

As soon as everything finished and he was dismissed so that the strongest men would put up the Big Top, he rushed back to the stalls. Half of them were dirty again, brown with dust raised up probably by the clowns. They always did some horrible pranks to him. He hurriedly started to clean them again, but he knew he would never make it. The familiar circus tune seemed to be getting closer and closer, and he knew that the chariots and the ringmaster were coming back.

“Young one,” a low voice called. Everett turned around, spotting Merlin the Magician leaning comfortably against the oak tree.

“What is it?” he mumbled and went back to scrubbing.

“Why bother with that?” Merlin continued, coming to stand on the other side of the stall. He looked ahead at all the dusty stalls that stretched on forever and he seemed tired by the mere look of so much work needing to be done. “How about I help you?”

“And what do I have to do in exchange?” Everett asked suspiciously, scrubbing harder than before.

Merlin sighed and took off his black hat, pulling a little white rabbit from it. He placed it on the table in front of the boy. “Just go get him a carrot. I’ll take over from here on.” Everett stared at the rabbit, then at the magician dubiously. This could simply be another prank that would get him in even bigger trouble.

“Are you sure?” he asked, deciding that he was in trouble if he stayed anyway.

“Sure as eggs is eggs!” Merlin replied, placing the hat back on his head and smiling cryptically.

Knowing that was nothing more than a fifty-fifty chance, Everett picked up the rabbit by the ears and holding it to his chest, he made his way to the carriages where the livestock’s food was stored. The old hag of a cook was standing right outside, investigating Everett with her good eye before finally letting him get a single tiny wrinkled carrot. Although he was out of breath, Everett hurried back; there wasn’t a ghost of a chance that even a grown man like Merlin would be able to clean them all by himself.

“Oh, you’re back already? You could have taken your time.” Merlin’s voice came from afar and it took a while for Everett to spot him. The young boy’s eyes widened as he saw the lazy magician sitting below the oak, the brim of his hat pulled so low that it hid his eyes. Everett felt betrayed, and was staring at him accusingly, but the magician didn’t seem to notice. “Come sit with me,” Merlin continued.

“Are you nuts? I thought you’d help, you did nothing but sit under the shade of that stupid tree and the ringmaster’s almost here! I had to have all those cleaned!”

Slowly, Merlin lifted his head, and a smile spread from ear to ear was revealed. “Why so serious? Really now, come sit with me.”

“No, I… I have to…” A shiver went through Everett’s spine. Just the memory of the last time he got beaten was painful enough. The bruises had been there for a whole month. “I have to go clean them.”

“What are you talking about? But they are clean,” Merlin said calmly, pulling his hat again low enough to hide his eyes.

Everett was on the verge of panic as he rushed to the stalls. He stared at them intensely, one by one, unable to believe his eyes. Indeed, all of them were clean, sparkling more than he could ever imagine. Slowly he went back to the magician and sat on the grass beside him, speechless.

The rabbit escaped his loose grip, hopped off his legs and found the carrot stuffed in his pocket. The little animal pulled it out and started nibbling on it, its teeth being the only sound breaking the silence.

“You need to learn how to enjoy life, you know. Not everything is work,” Merlin mused.

Everett was staring intensely in the distance, at the gray city. “Maybe not for you. You’re one of the big shows, everything is good for you. I’m the one getting sent to do all the dirty work.”

“What a wimp that you are. I’ll tell you this; things don’t go well for most people. Some are destined for greatness, doing private demonstrations in glamorous little reception halls among little circles of rich people’s friends. Yet they end up in circuses, doing some cheap illusion show while clowns pickpocket the viewers. It’s even worse when you know what you’re missing.” The boy couldn’t see the magician’s expression in the shadow, but the man slid down, laying on the grass. “Close your eyes, boy. Tell me what you feel.”

Everett glared at him annoyingly, wondering why he was asked to do such a ridiculous thing.

“Are they still open?” Merlin demanded.

With an exasperated sigh Everett closed his eyes. The smell of rain lingered in the air and there was something else, heavy and stuffy. “The city stinks. It’s all this smoke of the factories,” he remarked.

“Unbelievable. You’re plain awful and you’re not even trying. It’s better than the horse feces you’re sleeping with, isn’t it?”

“Feces?!” Everett asked, making a face. “Who are you, some rich lady with a feathery hat and a fluffy dress? Call it dung like every normal person.”

Merlin seemed to ignore him. “The city’s smell isn’t the only thing up here. Close your eyes again.”

“This is plain stupid,” Everett said out loud, but shut his eyes nonetheless. He could hear a bug flying near his ear and above them birds singing. The grass was tickling his bare ankles and the cool wind was caressing his face. It actually felt nice, although he didn’t want to say it out loud.

“Well?”

The boy simply shook away the annoying bug and turned his back to the magician, enjoying the moment. A smile of satisfaction was etched on the magician’s face who sat up, setting his hat right.

“It’s about time we get up,” he said, picking up the rabbit and nudging Everett. Instinctively the boy pulled away and stumbled to his feet.

A whip was heard not too far ahead and the trotting of the horses came to a stop. Soon a loud thump followed, which was obvious that was the ringmaster jumping off the chariot and more noise followed as the rest of the acrobats and clowns that had gone to the city with him started going to all directions.

“Everett! Everett!!! Where’s that little mongrel?!” The boy felt like hiding at the sound of the ringmaster, but he knew that he had to go there before things got worse for him. Quietly he pushed through the people to get there. Before he knew it, the ringmaster was standing before him, seemingly tall as a house before skinny little Everett, with his fat belly making the buttons of his red shirt stretch so much they were about to explode. “Where have you been?! Did you do what I asked you to?” he asked in an angry voice.

“I… I did…” Everett replied quietly, trying to shrink away as much as possible.

“What? Speak up, boy!”

“I did, sir!” he replied, just a little louder.

“Don’t you yell at me, you ill-bred mutt! Do you think I’m deaf?” the ringmaster roared back.

Everett closed his eyes, already picturing a big hand raised over him, and shook his head.

“Aaah, I can’t bother too much with you. Come on, let’s see what you did.” Everett felt the sleeve of his shirt being pulled and he was led through the people where the endless line of stalls was. He stood crouched in a corner quietly while the ringmaster inspected his work, looking more and more sour with each passing moment. Eventually he came back. “Everything seems in order,” he said curtly. “I didn’t imagine you could do such a good job. You’re a little less useless than I thought after all.”

Everett couldn’t hide the relief from his face. He nodded quickly.

“Or…” the ringmaster started again. “Is it perhaps that you had someone’s help?”

A million different thoughts crossed Everett’s mind at that moment, to fall down on his knees and apologize, to throw the blame at Olaf and Merlin, to even run away as fast as he could. His mouth was hanging open, unable to decide what to say, until someone came from behind and pushed his chin up. “Shut it, young one. A fly’s gonna get in.” Everett pulled away just before he realized the man behind him was Merlin the Magician. “He scrubbed them all on his own, ringmaster,” Merlin said reassuringly. “I had to remind him we were looking for someone to be a human cannonball once or twice, but he got the job done.”

The ringmaster stared at Merlin with his little bead-like eyes, but eventually he nodded. “Very well then, very well.” He nodded a few more times to himself. “Well then…” He turned to Everett again. “What are you still looking at? Go to the acrobats and get some practice, we’re having our first show tonight! Quick, now, before I have you scrubbing the elephant’s cage!”

Everett didn’t stay a second longer than needed. As fast as his legs could carry him, he ran off, heading for the acrobats’ tent.

* * * * *

“Try to keep your arms outstretched!” Julia said. “No, not like this, straight, straight!”

Everett was feeling confused but before asking, his mind was set on balancing on the ball. He felt the ball shift beneath his feet and momentarily losing his balance, he flailed his arms in the air.

“No, no, no! You can’t do this, if you act this way on stage we’re screwed. Get off, get off now!” she demanded.

More eagerly than he should, Everett jumped off the ball, landing face first on the old dusty mattress. The particles of dust made him sneeze a couple of times and eventually he sat up. An angered Julia though was standing right above him, her eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. It was a fact that what female acrobats lacked in strength, they had in temperament.

“What am I going to do with you? You could balance on the damn thing just fine last week! What’s gotten into you? And it’s before the show too!”

“I’m sorry,” Everett said, looking at his feet. “I’ll try again.” He got back on his feet and went to get the large ball, which had rolled to the edge of the tent.

“You’d better make it. Remember, I just need you to balance decently for about three minutes, then Rico will pick you up and the rest of the act is trapeze for you.”

Everett nodded. He knew the routine, they had done it once again in the last town. He had made a small goof on the last jump, but nobody had seemed to notice back then. He was so anxious today though, wondering if they would indeed make him human cannonball if he was useless for everything else.

“Come on, get up there!” Julia urged him and he hurried climbing on the ball.

I’ll do better this time. I don’t want to fly anywhere, Everett thought stubbornly, finding a way to center his weight and stretching out his arms again.

“That’s it, now start walking, one leg, then the other,” Julia continued. The boy followed her instructions and started to move around the tent, properly this time. “Come on, that’s it, one leg, then the other again,” she said, clapping her hands together.

You’re only encouraging me because you want the act to be right, Everett imagined himself saying Julia. But I’ll get the act right anyway.

“Okay, and at around this point Rico comes to scoop you up, is that clear?” she asked. Everett nodded and jumped off the ball, landing on his feet this time. “Okay, then take a small break and we’ll do it a few more times just to be sure.”

Everett lied back on the mattress. It felt as if the stripped top of the small tent was spinning. He was grinning to himself though. See? I’ll do it right, and sooner or later you’ll have to take me in your group.

* * * * *

Evening came quickly. The sky darkened and the first stars began to make their appearance in the sky. Everett was sitting on the edge of the horses’ carriage, staring at the stars lazily until it was his turn to get on stage. As usual, the first day wasn’t too crowded, there were only a few families walking around from stall to stall, trying shooting games and watching clowns with their goofy acts.

He could hear the ringmaster in the distance barking at somebody about the animals and the tightrope walkers going through their routine somewhere nearby. He could see the entrance of the Big Top, where Merlin the Magician invited the crowds to buy tickets for the show starting in half an hour inside.

An unpleasant smell came from inside the carriage and the young boy decided to take a walk around. He knew he’d have to do something entertaining if he started mingling with the crowd, but it was better than sitting around and smelling horse dung. It was enough that he’d have to clean them later before going to sleep.

He wandered around the stalls, juggling four colourful balls, observing the crowd. There were almost no children above the age of six, only babies and toddlers along with stern looking parents or funny looking grandmothers with ridiculous hats stuffed with feathers so much you expected something alive to pop out of them. Eventually his hands got numb from all the juggling and he stuffed the balls in his pockets and started walking through the people, doing a cartwheel here and a handstand there, just so that he wouldn’t get yelled at.

The scent of greasy sausages and caramel apples made his stomach rumble as he passed by a canteen set up at the end of the stalls. His lunch had been next to horrible and most certainly not enough, especially given all the things he’d done today. When he had asked the old cook for extra though she had just stared at him with her good eye and saying, “And where would a little shrimp like you fit any more food than what you already got? I’ve been feedin’ kids for years, I know how much y’all need to grow!” She had shaken her wooden spoon threateningly as well, to make sure he’d leave and not continue asking for more.

Everett walked away from the canteen quickly and went to sit beneath the oak tree just like he did the same morning. Merlin was yelling that the show began in twenty minutes so he had more than enough time. He fell back on the grass and closed his eyes, trying to enjoy the peace and quiet away from the circus. His idea was short-lived though as he felt someone poking his head and pulling on his hair.

When he opened his eyes he saw a girl about the age of four, in a blue polka-dot dress and shiny shoes. “Oh, you’re awake!” she said merrily.

“Yes?” Everett asked perplexed.

“How nice, how nice!" She clapped her hands and hopped from foot to foot. “Do something!”

“Like what?”

“Hmmm… I don’t know… you’re with the circus right? Do some circus trick for me!”

Everett sighed and got to his feet. “Okay, then stand back,” he told her, and as soon as her little feet put some distance between them, he did a handstand and started walking around her in circles.

The girl was giggling and clapping excitedly at him. “More! More!” she demanded.

Everett pulled out his colourful balls and started juggling them, while asking the girl riddles. The girl laughed every time Everett told her the riddle’s correct answer.

“How do you do that? Teach me, teach me!” she asked, pointing at the balls. “I want to do that too!”

“It’s not easy. Take two for start.” He threw two of the balls at her, but she missed them and ran off to get them. Everett followed her and they sat somewhere with more light where he showed her how to do it. After two or three throws she always made mistakes, but that was enough to satisfy her.

“Lisa! Lisa, where are you?” a woman’s voice was calling nearby.

Instantly Everett stood up and walked a little farther away. “Oh, it’s my mom!” the little girl said. “Thank you! I’ll show her the trick you taught me and I’ll come join the circus too one day! Bye!”

Everett waved at her, all the time thinking, Please never do. It’s better to only come see it with your parents from the outside.

The boy returned to the Big Top and went to the back with the rest of the acrobats. Some were practicing, others were doing some last fixes on their costumes and a couple of Hoopers on the side were sharing a bottle of booze, “to gather up courage for their act” as they’d say. Everett picked a quiet corner and sat there, waiting patiently for the familiar show to start. He peeked a couple of times through the curtains, but there weren’t many people outside. He spotted the girl in the polka-dot dress with her parents, as well as an elderly lady whose hat had a stuffed eagle on the top and a couple of costumed men he had seen outside before.

Things moved quickly from that point on. The band started playing the entering tune and the ringmaster stepped out, roaring greetings in his loud voice, surrounded by the clowns doing their goofy acts. The tigers and the hoopers followed, then a comical break was made by the clowns once more and before he knew it, he was out there, on the ball.

He saw the little girl clapping excitedly at him but he tried to ignore her and focus on the task at hand. He didn’t know how he was doing, but everything seemed to be in order; no one glared at him and the viewers didn’t seem to notice anything. Suddenly Everett was picked up by one of the acrobats on the trapeze and he found himself being thrown from acrobat to acrobat, as if he was a weightless juggling ball.

This is still better than becoming a human cannonball, he thought as he was sent flying at Stephanie, who pushed him up to stand on the trapeze. Applause followed, and along with the swinging of the trapeze it made Everett dizzy. The lights went out so that everyone could get off and prepare for the next act. Stephanie was right above Everett, rushing him to hurry and get off the metal ladder and pushed him through the curtains as soon as his feet touched the ground.

Everett fell on the nearest chair, exhausted, feeling his arms trembling and his legs numb.

“What was that?!” Stephanie demanded, her eyes shooting daggers.

“What was what?” Everett asked, wondering where he had gone wrong this time. He thought everything had gone well. Stephanie’s eyes thinned to two slits and without saying another word, she turned around, flipping her long ponytail and stomping away. I still don’t get it… Everett thought to himself and stood up. The tightrope walkers and the elephant were next and Everett knew that where the elephant was, the stench followed. He quickly got up and went to the horses’ carriage, to clean it now, while the horses were still out on the show.

One more day had passed, as uneventfully as it possibly could. The next would follow, and then the one after that. That’s just how his life in the circus would be.

The Arcanum of the Pak-ans ~ Prologue

Prologue

Meliera dashed forward, trying not to look back at her pursuers. She had been running for so long, that she was using every last bit of strength left inside her to keep moving. She could hear the flapping of wings getting closer and closer with each step, and she knew that she was falling behind.

“Shoot!” she muttered, trying to speed up. With her hand she tugged at her right wing, trying to pluck out a feather. When she looked at her fist, she had a dozen of them in it, but she hadn’t felt them being ripped off. They got me for good, she thought bitterly. She tried to take off once more, but her feet stayed on the ground. All I can do is keep running then... she mused.

A shadow passed over Meliera’s head, covering her momentarily, and flying straight ahead. He’s not after me? she wondered, looking at his figure, dark against the setting sun. Only then did she realize why she had been bypassed. The clouds rose high around her, creating a thick wall that obscured her sight from above.

A small smile formed on her lips, and clutching the feathers tightly in her fist, she moved forward, heading for the only place she could be safe, the Kahoy. Omer should be there, waiting for her. If she reached it, they could get away together, just like he had promised.

Just a little longer, she told herself, even though it was a lie. Her “little longer” turned to minutes, and the minutes to hours, until she was moving through shadows; the clouds that once concealed her, now suffocating her, as she tried to find her way through their thick matter.

Meliera wanted to stop. Countless times, she thought to herself she had had enough, that it didn’t matter if anyone cared about her anymore, and that she should just sit down right there and wait for her pursuers to find her. But somehow she kept on moving, until she couldn’t feel her feet anymore, until they were as numb as her wings.

Eventually the sun peeked through the clouds, lighting her path as it rose on the horizon, and she saw the outline of the Kahoy. The great tree stood proudly on the hill ahead, its pale roots spreading around the whole tor like snakes. Meliera breathed deeply, clutched her teeth, and started climbing through the roots.

She let the wind take the feathers from her fist, and held on to the closest root, trying to push herself forward. “Oh…” The cry left her lips without her realizing. She didn’t feel the pain, but she saw a trail of red left on everything she touched. I guess my wings have been dripping all the way here… she assumed. Three arrows aren’t a laughing matter after all. It doesn’t matter though. I’m right here, and Omer said he’ll be waiting by the Kahoy. He’ll be there. For sure.

She tried not to think about the blood, nor her wound, or her pursuers. She merely looked up, at the Kahoy. Only the side facing the north was blooming in this season. Bare of leaves, two lonely branches were covered in petite, golden buds, shyly peeking at the morning sun. It looks so beautiful… is it because I won’t see it again? She felt a tear sliding down her cheek, as she reached the top, and she leaned on the Kahoy’s bark for support.

A familiar figure stepped out of the shadow of the tree. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and his feathers were neatly tucked to his sides.

“Omer…” Meliera breathed out in relief. “I… we… we have to get going…”

The man approached her, and placed an assuring hand on her shoulder. She felt a little calmer.

“It’s way out of my control,” she continued, feeling the need to explain further. “We really need to leave. I can’t stop it anymore. I failed. I…”

Omer stroked her cheek, and looked at her sadly.

“Why aren’t you saying anything? You said we would go. This is why you were waiting, isn’t it?”

A frown clouded his face. He took a few steps back, and that sad look just wouldn’t leave his face. “I’m really sorry, Meliera. I didn’t mean for any of these to happen.” His voice was strange, low and raspy. He reached into his clothes and pulled out a wooden whistle.

Meliera’s eyes widened in surprise. “Omer? What are you doing?” She tried to walk forward, but her exhaustion caught up with her. She felt a rush of dizziness, and fell to her knees. She didn’t know what she wanted to say anymore. She just sat there, looking at him, and the whistle in his hand in shock.

“I want you to know… I really loved you,” Omer said, averting his eyes from her tearstained face, and staring off in the horizon. He brought the whistle to his lips, and blew hard.

Meliera felt her sight blurring, and the last thing she saw were shadows of winged people, and the falling golden buds.

Matter of Life and Death (New Version) ~ Chapter 04

Chapter 4:

~ Lillian ~

How in the world did I get myself in this mess? Lillian thought to herself. He looked like such an easy hit! Me and my big confidence. Why did I have to go asking him all those stupid things? I could have been over with it while he was still asleep.

“So? Just say who sent you,” Brian demanded, his grip closing around Lillian’s throat.

Lillian struggled to push him off, but she couldn’t. “You’re… choking… me…” she managed to get out eventually. She just wasn’t getting enough air.

“Am I?” he asked with faked curiosity, not moving an inch. “Well, look at what happens when I squeeze your throat. I didn’t know!”

Lillian turned to glare at him. I can’t believe for a second that I thought he was an innocent, troubled schoolkid! No wonder they wanted him dead. He probably… Lillian forgot what she was thinking about. What was it really? She needed air…

“What? Are you feeling uncomfortable? Why not tell me this one little thing I want? I can let you go after.”

Or not, Lillian thought dizzily. Why would he? She could swear his eyes were gleaming with a little something of crazy. Or it was just their color. Such a bright silver. What sort of eyes were those…?

“Getting sleepy, are you? I can let you live for a very cheap price. Haven’t you learned to bargain?” The words were starting to get tangled in Lillian’s oxygen-deprived brain. She heard half, she thought a snarky comment about the other half, but she wasn’t in a position to utter any coherent answer. Soon enough, her world turned completely black.

 ~ Brian ~

Wait, she actually passed out? Ugh. Maybe I should have let her breathe a little more. She deserved it though. What was I supposed to do? She wouldn’t say anything.

Annoyed, Brian let go of her throat, still staring at her suspiciously, as if she’d jump on him as soon as he would look away.

Such a frustrating situation.

All of a sudden, he heard footsteps on the hall, approaching their carriage. Marta and Sylva. After a couple of panicked seconds, he took Lillian’s knife away from her, got off the bed as quickly as his leg would allow and stood tensely in front of the bunk.

“You’re up,” Marta noticed right away. She sounded like she was still angry, but Brian could tell she was trying hard to remember that. She wasn’t the kind of person who would hold a grudge for too long. Otherwise she would have probably changed town, or even country not long after Brian had learned to talk.

“I had to,” Brian said, his mind still hazy. He wasn’t quite sure how to elegantly explain the situation. He didn’t have the time to think about it. Marta’s eyes fell on the knife.

“What’s wrong?” Before long, she also realized that the Leila girl was in the wrong bed. She shot him a furious look, her mind instantly going to something else.

“It’s not like that! I swear!” No need telling her that it did start like that, right? Brian thought innocently to himself. “Someone sent her here. She meant to get us.”

Marta observed the unconscious girl a little longer, carefully accessing the situation. “What did you do to her?”

“Just made her pass out,” Brian said with a pout.

“How?”

“She may have stopped breathing for a few seconds longer than she should…” Brian admitted hesitantly. Wait, why did she have to know every single detail?

Marta let out an exasperated sigh, but just when she was about to start the lecture, Sylva started climbing the ladder to the bunk where Lara or whatever-her-name-was, and Brian quickly pulled her back.

Sylva kicked around some, saying, “I want to see her, I want to see!” but Brian refused to let her any closer to that girl. She had come to kill them and take Sylva away after all. Brian wasn’t planning to make it any easier for her.

“Sit down,” Brian said sternly to his sister, and she quietly obeyed and started to play with a doll he had never seen before.

“How did you figure it out?” Marta asked, still sneaking suspicious looks at the girl.

Brian felt his cheeks blushing. “That’s not important now, is it?!” he exclaimed. There was no way he was sharing this sort of details with his chatty aunt. “Hey, I need help though. We need to keep her still somehow, or she’ll try attacking us. We still have six hours left and it’s more than enough time for her to do what she came here for. I expect she’ll wake up soon too.”

“And why are you looking at me? Do you expect me to give her some shot and keep her sedated until the end of the ride?”

“Hmm, no, that wouldn’t work…” Brian murmured skeptically. “I can’t ask her any questions if she sleeps away the whole trip.”

Marta smacked Brian at the side of the head. “I was obviously joking! What kind of person do you take me for?”

“Well, you do have shots somewhere in your stuff, don’t you?”

“Those are for dogs! I can’t give them to humans! Are you insane?”

“Some dog-walker you are…” Brian mumbled under his breath.

“What did you say again?!” Marta demanded, but Brian just shook his head.

“Wait, I’m trying to think… I just need to keep her immobilized, so that she doesn’t go attacking us. What if… do you have a leash?”

“A dog leash?” Marta asked, surprised. “Maybe, wh–” Her eyes widened in realization. “You can’t be serious.”

“It’s the closest thing we probably have to a rope. I’m open to any other suggestions.”

“You have her knife, right? Isn’t that enough? What can she do without it?”

“Oh, quite a lot of things, I assure you.”

Marta didn’t seem as scared as Brian would have wanted her to be. It was obvious she didn’t get it. “I am going to get some air,” Brian announced. “Sylva, come with me. Oh, and Marta, if she wakes up, call me. I’ll be right outside, okay?” With a nod from his aunt, Brian took his younger sister and walked out.

The hallway of the train was chilly. Some brainless person had decided to open all the windows wide. What was he supposed to do with the bounty hunter? He couldn’t let her go, she’d certainly set them an ambush someplace else. But Marta wouldn’t give help him either. Good-for-nothing dog-walker. And what about the news? Had the police already found their former house trashed? His mother’s body? Were they looking for Sylva and him?

“Bwian? Hey, Bwian!!” Sylva demanded, pulling on her brother’s shirt. “Look, look! Some giwl gave me a Wapunzel doll!” His sister gave him a toothy grin and stretched on her toes to get the doll as close as she could to Brian’s face.

Brian gave her a half smile. “Rapunzel, huh?” He took the doll to take a closer look and knelt to be at the same level as Sylva. “She’s your favorite princess, right?”

“Right!”

“Are you sure the other girl won’t miss the doll?”

“Yeah! Her momma said I could have it too!” She grabbed the doll from his hands and hugged it tightly. Brian felt a little calmer looking at the little girl. She was so happy in her own little bubble, where she didn’t know about their mom, and had found a friend in the train even though they were running away and were in mortal danger. He wished he could share a little space of that magical bubble where all him problems turned into thin air.

He ruffled her hair roughly and she pushed his hand away, taking a few steps back in giggles. “You’ll wuin my haiw, dummy!”

“So what, you little monster?” he asked, grinning. Maybe he could use some of that bubble. Just for five minutes or so, right?

 ~ Marta ~

Marta sat down on the bed. So they’re already after us? I really hoped Brian was more paranoid than anything else. She looks like a normal girl to me… she thought, crooking her head to get a better look at the girl’s face. Definitely not like an assassin. How could Brian tell? What the heck could possibly have happened in here while we were gone?

Suddenly she stirred. Marta completely forgot Brian’s words when the girl looked at her. Still, she looked so normal, so… nice. Was she really a paid killer? What was she supposed to say? The girl seemed perplexed. She looked around the room confused, and eventually turned to Marta.

“Uh… hi,” Marta said eventually, unable to stand the uncomfortable silence. She couldn’t help but notice the girl’s neck was an angry red. Brian had definitely been rough.

“Hi,” Lillian said back. “You’re Brian’s aunt, right?” she asked in quite a casual tone.

Marta stared at her feet for a second. “Eh… yes. I’m Marta.”

That was all the time Lillian needed apparently. Before Marta realized what happened, the girl was behind her, holding her in a way she couldn’t take a single step. “Nice to meet you, Marta. I think the two of us will be good friends.”

 ~ Brian ~

Huh, it’s been quiet for a while. I’d better go back inside. I can probably take all the air I need after we get off this damned train.

“Come on, Sylv, let’s go back.” The little girl quickly followed him to their cabin’s door. “Is she still asl–” Brian had mere seconds to react. That airhead, Marta, hadn’t told him, but Leila was up and already doing what she could. A triumphant grin was spread across her face, as she held Marta in a headlock.

“You’ve been careless,” she said, quite happily.

Brian took a deep breath, knowing this was going to hurt, and leapt forward, knocking both Marta and her attacker on the floor of the cabin. Lillian lost her grip and placed her hands on her head, which she hit against the wall. Brian tried to ignore the pain in his leg and tried to immobilize Lillian again, the best way he could. Marta stood up and went to stand by the door, hiding Silvia behind her.

“Still think that this leash is uneccessary?” Brian growled.

Marta shook her head, being at a loss of words. She quietly searched through her bag and threw the first one she found at her nephew, before putting again as much distance as possible between herself and them.