Roses Page 4

  A silence ensued in which Ma Dane slurped her tea.

  “Did you see that new House of Shell girl at the Crit-se-Prom ball?”

  With visible effort, Ma Usa replied, “Why yes, it was shocking—her hem was practically above her ankles.”

  Later, with her cheek shoved against the wooden floorboards of the nursery, the child could not forget what she had heard of the circus. She had disregarded most of the chat, not understanding it, but the circus with the magnetic ring of The Beautiful Spectacular had stayed foremost in her mind.

  “Don’t twitch!” screeched Nan, pushing her heel further into the child’s back as she lay face down. “Nasty, vile creature!”

  The child had been caught escaping the drawing room and was now receiving her punishment. Rather than mull over her blatant disregard for rules, as she had been instructed, the child was musing the possibility of running off again this very afternoon. She had been contemplating escaping the grounds of Rose Herm for a while, having grown bored of its constraints. She desired fresh lands to explore and had already plotted her escape: a large zouba tree that stood beside a pond and leaned toward the high iron fence. She had just been waiting for a reason to flee.

  There was a knock at the door and Nan hissed irritably.

  “Come in, then!”

  The maid fumbled with the lock and as she swung the door open Nan released the child and tried to look as though she had been giving a school lesson.

  “ . . . that is how Pervorocco won the Red Wars and restored order after years of savage bloodshed. The Neighbor then repaired its State and a lenient attitude was taken toward Magics thereafter . . .”

  The maid was trembling so much that the tea set rattled as she placed it on a table. The child had not seen this maid before and suspected she was new. The new house staff—fed with gruesome tales of a silver, wild being—were always the most afraid of her.

  “This tea is cold!”

  The maid wrung her hands on her apron and tried not to look at the child.

  “But I—but I just boiled it, Nan. It’s scalding!”

  “You must have dawdled on the stairs. Get away and don’t make the same mistake in the future.”

  The maid scurried from the room so hastily that she forgot to lock the door.

  “Don’t you even think of touching that food! You will miss dinner again for your wickedness.”

  While Nan fell upon the meal and began tearing into the bread and butter, the child crept slowly past her.

  “If you continue to disobey me, then you will starve!”

  Nan turned and in that moment, the child ran for the door. Nan was well past middle age and too slow to catch her. As the child dashed away, she was followed by an agonized howl.

  Switching between the rambling, grand corridors of the main house and the twisting passages of the servants’ quarters, the child expertly snaked her way to the gardens, stopping only to catch her breath before she continued. With the sun beating upon her back, she climbed the zouba tree and slithered down its long vines to the ground on the other side. There she paused, the thrill of the chase beginning to wane.

  She was standing on a dusty track between two grand houses. She could see the glistening roof of Rose Herm on her right over the high iron fence and a vulgar mansion on her left, its second story peeking over another iron fence. Ahead was a flat expanse of sapphire and she headed toward it slowly, dragging her feet a little in the dust. With freedom finally in her grasp, she did not know what to do first.

  The gentle crash of waves grew louder and she found herself standing on a wide, paved road before the sea. The road was deserted and the air was soft and still. The horizon rippled with heat and each rumple in the water winked silver as it bobbed in the distance. Having been used to the ornamented ponds and delicate fountains of Rose Herm, this expanse of blue amazed her. The child had a sudden urge to touch it.

  Crossing the road, she climbed down a sandy slope punctured with craggy boulders and stood at the water’s edge. There she watched it for a moment, lapping the ground with foaming lips that sucked the shore. In the distance she could see the shadows of boats and farther along the coast were the famous docks of Sago.

  Checking that she was still alone, she pulled off her buckled shoes and rolled up the legs of her trousers. Then, tentatively, she dipped her feet into the balmy water. She giggled as it swelled about her silver ankles and then bent and splashed it with her hands. Discovering that this was fun, she splashed it some more, laughing louder. The droplets glittered in the fierce sunshine and soaked the edges of her shirt.

  Suddenly, a carriage thundered past on the road above, startling the child so that she almost toppled into the water. As the hoof beats died away, she remembered the circus. Pulling her shoes back on, she climbed the slope to the road and hurried onward.

  As she followed the straight boulevard, the buildings began to inch closer together, their size diminishing and their facades crumbling. The road narrowed and the azure stretch of sea was lost behind a shamble of overbearing houses. An ominous hum replaced the gentle surge of the waves and the paving slabs beneath her shoes became cracked and hard.

  At first she walked alone, padding softly on the burning road, but people soon began to appear. They leaned out of windows, shaking out carpets, lay snoring on front steps, and rushed past in rickety carts that creaked and sprayed the air with thick dust. She shrank from them, and suddenly she longed for the grounds of Rose Herm and their safe enclosure. She wanted the smell of hot earth and the squawk of seagulls and the high iron fences to box her in. The circus forgotten, she was filled with the desperate urge to turn back, and she made the mistake of stopping.

  A man towing a cart full of soft fruit stumbled into the back of her, cursing loudly and pushing her into the gutter.

  “Move over!” he shouted.

  She clambered to her feet, her senses overwhelmed with the drench of sweat, animals, and filth.

  Catching sight of her, the man yelped.

  “Cursed thing! Get away with you, under-realm monster!”

  People began to stare. Before, she had passed unnoticed in the blank crowds that hustled and bustled through the tight roads, but now she felt eyes boring into her and widening in disgust and astonishment. All she could see were crumbling houses, hoards of people, and a haze of smut that seemed to float through the clammy air.

  “There’s no begging on this road!” a voice shouted. “Go to the squares!”

  “What is it?”

  “Must be from the circus . . .”

  “The circus is that way!”

  This last remark came from a stout man who stood proudly before a collapsing tumble of bricks and holes. He jerked his thumb in the direction of a road to his left and the child ran.

  Roads turned to uneven streets, which became alleyways, growing ever narrower and busier. She found that the faster she ran, the less notice people took of her, and so she sprinted. Everyone was pushing and shoving and rushing, and as she became one of them they left her alone. But she could not keep it up for long; exhausted, she knew that she must stop if only to lessen the excruciating burn of her chest. Her legs began to slow and she paused, clinging to a dirty brick wall.

  There were people everywhere—even more than before, although she could scarcely believe that possible. Monstrous constructions of patched brick, wood, and cardboard loomed about her, riddled with tears and soaked with muck. The paving stones of the road had been removed to build huts that bodies huddled in, turning the ground to a foul bog that swallowed feet. The air reeked of hot urine and excrement, and was filled with shouts, screams, and wails. It pressed against her, forcing her down into the churned grime of the rotting ground and she wished that she had not come.

  “What’s this?”

  She jumped and turned to see a family of six kneeling in a circle around a bowl of black water. They watched her with hungry eyes.

  Something darted to her side and she saw a child not much ol
der than herself. It was difficult to know whether it was a boy or a girl with the dirt smeared across its face. There were layers of crud dried on its cheeks, hands, and lips that split and flaked off as it moved. She stared at it for a moment, wondering what it wanted from her. Its eyes were rolled skywards and it had a broken sack slung over its shoulder. It pushed its open hand toward her, a grunt issuing from its scabbed lips.

  “What . . . what do you want?” she whispered.

  The creature stank and lice crawled on its face. It pushed its hands against her harder, its face pleading.

  “Spare some sticks!”

  A mottled face loomed from the flow of bodies surging down the street and a hunched figure sidled up to her, limbs bent and crooked.

  “Spare some sticks!”

  The girl cowered against the brick wall, wishing that she had never left the confines of Rose Herm. Bile bit the back of her throat and her legs trembled.

  “Spare some sticks! The circus can spare some sticks!”

  A toothless, gaunt face bore into hers and a second, slimy hand reached out to her.

  “No!” she gasped.

  Pushing past them, she plunged back into the crowd and dodged men with greasy omelets and women selling rags. The streets curled left and right and the air grew hotter and the crowds increased. Unable to go on, she paused in a heaving square, bumped and knocked by the flow of bodies rushing past her.

  “Spare some sticks!”

  They had followed her and multiplied on the journey. A buzz of beggars surrounded her like flies—children and adults and things in between. Hands grasped at her and ragged nails scratched her silvery skin.

  “Spare some sticks!”

  “My children die for lack of food!”

  “Sticks from the circus!”

  Terrified tears coursed down the child’s face. “I have nothing!” she cried. “No, I have nothing!”

  But they would not stop. They tugged at her shirt and pulled at her trousers, trying to pat her pockets for sticks. She never thought that she would ever wish herself back in the nursery with Nan, but just then she would face seasons of abuse to be free of them.

  “Get back!” a voice boomed.

  With reluctant scratching and scurrying, the beggars moved aside.

  A shadow fell over the child and she looked up from where she cowered in a boggy puddle of grime to see a bizarre creature. Its eyes were slanted and its nose pointed like that of the head gardener’s dog, but it had the body of a human and a bushy copper tail.

  “The circus has been looking for you,” it said.

  The child blinked at it, unsure. All around them, people stopped to watch and the beggars lingered, still hoping for sticks.

  The creature offered her a clawed hand.

  “Come, little beauty,” it whispered.

  It wore a loose, gold tunic of silk and its limbs were abnormally long and lithe.

  The child hesitated.

  “Spare some sticks!” one beggar started up, then suddenly they were all chattering once more, their hands grasping.

  “Spare some sticks!”

  “Spare sticks from the circus!”

  The creature took a bundle of lead sticks from its pocket and scattered them on the ground. All at once the beggars went grabbing for them, throwing others aside in their haste. While they were distracted, the child hurriedly took the hand of the creature and it picked her up, cradling her in its arms.

  “Gold stick?” a beggar cried as they began to move away. “One gold stick?”

  “Lead sticks are all I can spare.”

  The child buried her head into the creature’s chest and did not look up again until they had arrived at the circus.

  CHAPTER SIX

  The Little Beauty

  The circus occupied Sago’s only pier, its tent encasing all in a dazzling white tunnel. In seasons past, the space would have been shared by several traveling circuses, which crossed into the bordered towns of Pervorocco and then embarked upon the capital. But this year there was only The Beautiful Spectacular.

  “I think they suspect us.”

  The troll looked up from his juggling battens at the old man before him. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

  “The largest circus ever seen and it happens to be the only circus as well. It looks suspicious.”

  Both the old man and the troll were sitting at the entrance to the circus tent, a mixture of props and baggage gathered around them. In the recesses of the tent, Magic Beings and Magic Bloods were resting or practicing their acts.

  “We didn’t have trouble crossing the borders,” said the troll.

  “That was thanks to me.”

  “Just keep on doing them spells, then.”

  “It is not so easy. I do not know how much longer I can last . . . the Wild Lands are a long way away yet.”

  The curtains of the tent parted, letting in a lyan and a slice of hot, muggy air.

  “Where’ve you been?” grunted the troll. “We’re not supposed to go out. You heard . . .” he trailed off as he caught sight of a child clinging to the lyan’s neck.

  “The beggars thought she was one of us and she was being set upon. I could not leave her there,” explained the lyan. “Hush, little beauty,” he whispered as she whined into his shoulder.

  The troll looked for support, but the old man was staring at the floor.

  “It’s not one of ours and you know we can’t take on any more,” he muttered.

  “Come on, little beauty, come on,” soothed the lyan, unlocking the child’s arms from around his neck. He set her gently on the ground before him and patted her white hair.

  “She must be one of us,” he said. “Look at her coloring.”

  The girl stared into his strange cat eyes and her terror subsided. She felt his hands petting her hair and face, but she did not understand what it meant, for she had not felt a caring touch in a long time.

  “Do you not know what she is?” the lyan asked the old man.

  But he was wearily rubbing his face, wanting no part in the matter.

  The girl watched in awe as the troll flicked juggling batons between his fingers. She had never seen such a being, with shell-like skin and a squat, dense build, except in the pages of a nursery book.

  “You truly are a strange beast,” the lyan whispered, studying her amethyst eyes. Turning to the old man, he added, “Not many seasons since, you yourself would have been fascinated by such a little beauty as this.”

  “I have seen enough of Magic Beings to last a lifetime,” he muttered.

  “Well, perhaps I have seen enough of Magic Bloods to last a lifetime.”

  The old man’s lips twisted in a wry smile, and he tugged at his worn robes.

  “Besides, I do not think she is a Magic Being,” said the lyan. “Perhaps a Magic Blood? I am not sure—that sort of thing is your specialty.”

  With a sigh, the old man looked at the child and he froze.

  “Asha!”

  The lyan glanced at him.

  “What did you say?” he asked.

  The old man clasped his face and stared at the child.

  “Asha,” he breathed. “Asha . . . what have you done?”

  Suddenly there were footsteps on the planks outside: the steady march of soldiers and the commanding tone of State officials. The circus creatures did not have time to react before the curtains of the tent were pulled roughly aside and the bright sun blazed into its shadowed depths.

  “Pa Coo-se-Nutoes here to have a look around,” said a tall, slight man with a dark moustache. Behind him stood two soldiers in gray uniforms, and to his side was a large, overbearing lady who, upon seeing the amethyst-eyed child, screamed loudly.

  “Ma Dane, do not be alarmed,” said Pa Coo-se-Nutoes, thinking her afraid. “These are but Magic Beings. Surely you have been to a circus before? It is just a troll and a lyan.”

  Ma Dane ignored him. “What are you doing here?” she shrieked at the child who was recoili
ng against the lyan’s legs.

  “You know that child?”

  “Are you all right, little beauty?” asked the lyan.

  “Little Beauty?” spat Ma Dane. “How did you get here?” She reeled around to the lyan. “You stole her from me!”

  Pa Coo-se-Nutoes looked at the strange child and his face contorted with disgust. She was not looking her best, with shanty slime coating her legs and her shirt ripped.

  “This is your child?” he asked Ma Dane.

  Ma Dane fought to control herself. Her fan fluttered manically around her face and beads of sweat trickled across her forehead.

  “She is my—my ward. She is in my care. Do you not remember my cause some seasons past to take in the beggar children of prostitutes?”

  “Vaguely,” said Pa Coo-se-Nutoes. “How found you this child?” he asked the lyan as the soldiers behind him put their hands to their sabers.

  “She was being set upon by beggars in the Haz shantytown. And you are mistaken, she cannot be the child of a prostitute. She has something altogether—”

  “Thank you for saving her!” cried Ma Dane, reaching across and snatching the child to her side. “She runs off and gets lost. I am indebted to you!”

  The child whimpered as she felt Ma Dane’s nails digging into her silvery skin.

  “Asha . . .” whispered the old man, still staring at the child and oblivious to all else.

  Ma Dane’s blood rushed to her head.

  “What do you say?” asked Pa Coo-se-Nutoes. “What is that of which— Wait! I know you, Pa! You are a professor at the University of Magic. I saw a talk of yours while I was traveling in The Neighbor. I believe it was about diversity in Magic Beings in the Eastern Realm and—” he glanced quickly at Ma Dane—“and we have heard some rumors of magical immigrants. May we check this circus, Professor?”

  The troll nudged the old man with his boot.

  “That is a child of Asha, I know it, for she told me once that—”

  “I believe there is nothing for us to check here, Pa Coo-se-Nutoes,” said Ma Dane. “It is just a circus like any other. The rumors I have heard were incorrect.”