Fool's Errand - Chapter 4

Hours yet before the coming of dusk, Veil sent up the signal for the nearing end to the day’s travel. The call was coming long before it was typically expected, for there were still several hours of sunlight remaining and plenty of road left between them and the destination for their next performance. But in spite of the unusual time of day, the command was nevertheless delivered down the entirety of the wagon train, echoing along its length through the voices of those who excitedly delivered the news. The circus had made excellent time northward in two days time, having run into few hazards with gentle weather greeting them upon each new horizon. Had today not been one so long expected, they would have gone on longer until the sun was nearer to set, putting fair woodlands behind them and heading into denser forests. But tonight they needed time to prepare for the coming revelry, and even Veil would not spurn the special occasion for the sake of saving time.

Already their scouts had hand-selected a perfect spot for the event, having located a wide copse just off the road while on the wing. In preparation for the circus’s arrival, the dracon had taken the liberty of chasing the scavenging vandaboar and coyotes from the thicket, and soon their wagons were pulling into the empty field through the brush. In no time at all the caravan arranged itself into a defensive circle, a formation that would deter roaming creatures from wandering into their midst. Their beasts of burden were released from harnesses and yokes, and cookware was pulled out from storage to be put to use. Nearby trees were felled by the rhythmic hacking of axe blade and dracon claws, and a bonfire was swiftly erected within the space at the caravan’s center. In less than an hour the grandest of camps lay nestled within the heart of the meadow, their caravan coddled away from the harsh winds of winter by an outward shielding of evergreen.

At sunset the sky blazed a vibrant tapestry of orange, blue and violet, with pink clouds dashed between the colors like wisps of candy floss. The setting sun coated everything it touched with a glistening golden orange, causing pine branches to glow as with sun-dipped honey and snow to sparkle as bronze. It was a beautiful scene by which to labor, and before long the cold air of winter was replaced by the mouthwatering aromas of freshly baked pastries and basting meats. As night approached, the tantalizing scents mingled with those of cinder and pine as the camp’s central bonfire was fed to grow. Under such airs, patience for waiting began to wear thin, and as time dragged on and appetites grew, the harder it became for the lady chefs to swat back the pilfering palms of temptation. Human’kin were forced to puff on pipes or chew on hard tack and gummed sap to bide their time before the party, while dracon gnawed on the bones and fat of the eve’s fresh kills to sate their whetted hunger.

Yet this agonizing wait only made their final indulgence all the finer, and when the sun finally set beyond the trees and horizon, with joyous cheer the revelry fell into full swing. The black of night had replaced the blue light of winter dusk, and more fuel was added to the burning bonfire to chase away the encroaching dark. Flames now licked the starry sky in a fervent, orange blaze, dancing as wildly as the people who surrounded it. Shadowed shapes and figures striped the wagons all around, mimicking the every movement of the dancers. Tonight, the ground thrummed like its own beating heart as feet pounded down the grass in spinning rhythm. And as the fire rose higher alongside laughter and song, inhibitions were thrown aside for the sake of one night’s limitless fun.

Joyful ruckus and music were a common affair for the troupe during travel, but never did it compare to these rare celebrations. Tonight the smells of cinder smoke, sweet foods and honeyed ale hung heavy in the air as freshly baked delicacies and spirits were passed around to each in grand abundance. The sheer amount of substance created an atmosphere of lazy comfort over the whole of the grounds, and this haze was only broken by the chaotic motion of capricious dance and merrymaking. Lute, harp, flute and drum rang together in vivacious beat, while those blessed with fairest voice harmonized together through lyric. Riveting renditions of Love in Lady Luck, Dancing with the Farmer’s Daughter and Moondew Wine were expertly performed by the circus’s well-practiced singers. The popular tavern songs were highly successful given tonight’s drunken ambience, and many clapped in time or sang along with each tune while others danced about the fire, spinning and jumping at each crescendo or switch of verse.

Whoops and hollers followed on the heels of those whose movements captivated their audience best, and once-barmaid Brema knew best of all how to make men swoon and sing at her command. Barefoot upon the flame-dried earth, she spun about with green dress swirling, fabric twisting around her knees yet hindering not each quickened step and graceful leap. Her ankles, wreathed in gold-charmed bracelets, twinkled in the firelight as she danced, and with each slap of the tambourine she spun about again. Enticed, her husband leapt to her twirling seduction and swept Brema off her feet, launching them both into a whirl of directionless spinning and laughter. The circus’s lead songstress, Irma, a blue-skinned naviin, swiftly took up Brema’s place by the blaze, still singing as she danced. It was not long after that her storm-blessed lover, Ceph, joined with her by the fire, and with movements remarkably smooth for one with taloned toes, he likewise whisked the woman away into their own swirling dance.

Over and over the faces came and went, changing endlessly as each and every one joined the fun in turn. The birthday girl was in the thick of the soiree, accepting the hand of any and all who offered her a dance. Tonight was for her, for her going away, and thus it was only polite that the men made sure she was enjoying herself above all others. Even Tief, on klutzy lizard feet, managed enough grace to dance with her during the second verse of Star-Clouded Rivers, a slower song that better suited his lack of dancing skill. When not in hand with another, Saraya found herself dancing solo alongside her fellow women; jumping into preset motions and patterns coupled to the rhythm of the current tune. Few were the moments when her hands were not intertwined with another’s, and just as she’d grabbed up the idle Chloe for another friendly spin, the flame behind them burned again, flaring even brighter.

“Into the fire!” Came a roar, followed by a sudden eruption that painted the bonfire a ghostly green. Fading back to a searing red, there came a call for another, and promptly the blaze burst forth again with a brilliant hue of blue. The flame-blessed twins, Kiln and Karn, were responsible for the spectacle, being exceptionally gifted in the art of alchemy where fire and explosives were concerned. The devious youths had long been waiting for this: for the perfect night to put their particular talents and concoctions to good use.

Thus, as the fire shifted again, this time from blue to purple, the red-scaled twins set to stabbing small missiles into the ground and used the fire of their breath to light the lengthy wicks of each one. Soon, whistling projectiles pierced the night sky in flight as they launched, screaming, upwards. The festivities below were drowned out completely by the gigantic booms that followed, the explosions bursting into a sparkling array of glowing flecks of colored lights.

Cheers rang out from the celebrating troupe as more fireworks were sent soaring, and Saraya took advantage of the lull in dancing to slink over to the sidelines for air. With some distance now between her and the others, she allowed herself a moment of brief reprieve. The party was just as energetic and lively now as when it had begun, and likely it would continue to be so for several hours more now that half the crew had gotten good and drunk. Indeed, the night would play out as it always did, and Saraya would be here to witness it all.

Eventually, absurd tests of courage would be bet upon between the men, ending with some hysterical results. The women, meanwhile, would swindle each other out of jewels and coin over games of cards and dice, returning them (maybe) to their rightful owners when once again they were sober. Undoubtedly a row would start between some of the younger fellows, as the intoxicated dracon males would challenge their weaker Human’kin counterparts to prove their strength with fists. Those fools who were challenged would answer the call for the sake of their drunken honor, and both parties would be left with cuts and bruises come the morn where their ale-induced stupors had blinded them to pain. Tomorrow, both would defend the victory that neither party could remember nor rightly claim, before deciding on the calling the whole thing a draw. Unless, of course, the female draken got dragged into the affair, whereupon they would proceed to soundly stomp them both.

Yes, a most thrilling night this would certainly be. If only it could last forever.

Already coated in a layer of sweat from having been dancing since dusk, Saraya sought to assuage her fatigue in an open cask of water. Taking the tin cup hanging upon the barrel’s rim, she plunged the mug beneath the glassy surface and brought it, dripping, to her lips. She downed it all in a single breath, spilling icy droplets down her neck, and filled the cup to full once more, guzzling it again, before feeling satisfied.

Alter huffed in the back of her head, grieved by the endless ruckus.

“It wasn’t my intention to, no,” Saraya told her plainly. “Though I mean to enjoy every second I can before we leave.” Stepping up to a table spread with an array of alluring dishes, Saraya pinched a sugar-dusted sweet cake from the nearest platter. Vitanya had prepared these to suit her specific tastes, and when she bit into the soft, airy dough, a strawberry-preserve filling poured out over her tongue. Saraya purred with delight as she popped the rest into her mouth, then she grabbed a second and did the same. Knowing she was likely to grab another yet, she leaned against the nearest wagon and glanced back out over the party while she chewed.

The music had died down now that the fireworks had stolen the majority of attention. The instruments simply could not compete with the louder, brighter spectacle, and so both band and dancers had dispersed for now for various foods, drink and games. Silas, their resident healer, was sneaking about from group to group now that a calm had settled in, and as he walked the fire lit up is oblivious, boyish grin. Saraya’d heard from the man himself that he’d created a brand new flavor of taffy—three, in fact, if he had decided to keep them all—and was likely going about handing off bits of it for tasting. Being subjected to such tests was usually best avoided, but there were too many too drunk tonight to tell the green naviin no. They’d soon find out, as would Silas, if the flavor was edible or not. Had the man not spent so many years working over various herbs and fumes, he would have never damaged his sense of smell, and consequently, his sense of taste. If not for that, then Silas would have been able to test his treats himself, but his odd tastes meant that everyone else had to suffer his discoveries.

Vinna’Kar waved Silas away as he approached her table, but though she was able to save herself from the test, she could do nothing for the others. The three throwing dice with her were suckered into the naviin’s candied gamble, and as Armas coughed, Crow heaved and spit out the offered lump. The strong man’s reaction was much more subdued than that of the contorting fire breather, and the obscured third who sat around with them seemed to have no reaction. The wave-blessed dracon, Vinna, laughed at their expense before sympathetically patting Silas’s back and offering her advice. Games of chance—dice or no—seemed games Vinna always won, and rightfully so. The only dracon among the troupe with elegant fins instead of wings, she had joined the circus to see the world beyond the ocean’s beach and had a knack for divination. Fortune telling and future sight were her rare gifts, sparse as the visions may be. Though, just yesterday, the wave-blessed woman had pressed upon Saraya an augury, saying she had seen it in a dream.

Beware the silver fox, Saraya. He is no ally of yours. Of course, the woman’s words meant nothing at the time—meant nothing still—and Vinna herself could explain no further.

This recollection slightly soured the acrobat’s celebratory mood, for she never took such premonitions lightly, especially when Vinna stressed them. Though Saraya didn’t care for the gods herself nor took part in any worship, she couldn’t very well deny the proof of their handiwork. If the fortune teller felt this vision important, then important it must certainly be. All such visions came from a god after all, and knowing now what Veil’s intentions were, the Kayll, the Fawln and the Unaligned had now become vitally important.

This vision was just another thing for Saraya to ponder over, and she still hadn’t yet figured out what Veil was referring to about her new job. The ringmaster was expecting her to give an answer before the night was through. But what exactly did the woman mean by reevaluating her duty to the circus, and more over, why was Saraya having so much trouble figuring this riddle out?

Chloe hopped up beside Saraya as she puzzled over Veil’s request, though only retrieved her friend’s attention when she flopped back hard against the wagon. This caused the acrobat to turn to the juggler with a start, and she barely managed a quick hello before Chloe launched herself into a string of gestures. Waving her hands, the juggler motioned back to the fire, pointing to the returning bards and others who were gathering around the blaze. She pointed to Saraya next, then to herself, before posing her hands like a partner in dance and spinning around on her toes.

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

“Not yet,” Saraya said, inferring Chloe’s invitation to rejoin the fray. “I still need a few moments more to catch my breath.” The dance the two had been sharing prior had been cut short by the twins’ firework display, she knew. And given that this would be their last chance to have fun together, Saraya wanted to continue on as much as her best friend did.

Alter growled,

“Just give me tonight,” Saraya muttered coldly, speaking into her cup of water. “This is the last night we have.” Defiantly she bit into her fourth—fifth?—strawberry nut, downing it quickly to help drown out Alter’s dismal mood. She sighed happily, the sugary delight doing wonders for her spirits, and did not miss Chloe’s skeptical look while she overindulged in food. “Fine, yes,” Saraya defended against the unsaid accusation, “and I want as many of these as I can get before they’re gone. You know I always do.” To prove her point, she grabbed another, but Chloe snatched the pastry quick away and popped it into her own mouth in playful jest. Saraya crinkled her nose a bit with a defiant snort then chuckled deviously. “Tief beat you this year, you know?” She told the girl with a grin.

For a moment Chloe stopped chewing, then blinked at Saraya in surprise, before throwing up her arms in exasperated defeat and releasing a heavy sigh into the air. Taking hold of the bill of her burgundy urchin’s cap, the juggler pulled it down a little further over her eyes before pursing her lips to one side. She rounded on the acrobat afterward, knocking her hard in the forehead with the curled knuckle of her middle finger.

“Ow! Hey!” Saraya snapped as she flinched away, brushing her fingers across the wound. “It is through no fault of mine that you waited this long! He wished us well while we were dancing. You had plenty of time to tell me before then.”

Dismissively Chloe flipped the curling ends of her bob-cut, brown hair, seeming to care little for the acrobat’s reasonable logic. Rather, she gestured to herself again, touching her fingers to her chest, and then folded her hands together to mime the presenting of a gift.

“You…have something to give me?” Saraya inferred, guessing at the message.

Chloe nodded, but then obstinately folded her arms over her chest, both irritated and annoyed that she’d been beaten.

“Well, that’s hardly fair, is it?” Saraya said, knowing what she implied. “Why should I suffer because of Tief?”

For a moment Chloe pondered her friend’s just complaint, and eventually resigned her stubborn position with a shrug. Digging then into the pocket of her faded black breeches, she pulled out an unseen object and hid it in her palm. Tugging nervously at the red kerchief tied about her neck, she eventually held out her open hand to reveal a wooden talisman. Carefully, Saraya picked the charm up from Chloe’s palm and turned away from the bonfire so to see it in the firelight. Holding it up, the flames revealed the handmade design in all its rugged splendor. The piece was rough, admittedly; a trinket carved out of a thick chunk of tree bark with its natural texture still intact along the edges. An amateur attempt at a leafed design was etched into the shard’s sanded center, and at its heart a circular bump was raised and smoothed to hold a symbol. The emblem was that of the goddess Iialu, the common sign for luck and safe travel.

“You made this?” Saraya asked, and Chloe answered with a bashful nod. Her expression belied her dissatisfaction with this most recent work, but time had likely forced her to do the best she could, leaving the end result unpolished. Saraya knew of Chloe’s attempts to pick up the art of whittling, and though she still had much to learn, it seemed her lessons were going well. Saraya certainly appreciated the gift, even if it was roughly made. The sentiment alone made it supremely special, especially to her. Saraya thus palmed the wooden charm and held it close to her heart with a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said and embraced her friend. “I’ll be sure to keep it near.”

Chloe grinned and hugged Saraya back tightly, stronger than she usually did. Clearly she intended the gift to give her friend protection, knowing that the acrobat would likely need it. And it was in that moment, realizing this, that something important struck Saraya. Glancing again at the wooden charm, she found therein just what it was Veil had meant before.

“I need to speak to Veil,” she told Chloe then, releasing her hold on their embrace. Chloe did not question this, did not even make a face, and simply gestured back to the fire in response. “Yes, I’ll meet you there when I’m finished,” Saraya assured her with a smile. “On my word.” Her promise seemed to satisfy Chloe enough, as the juggler simply nodded once before turning and walking away. “And get Tief too!” Saraya called after her as she went. “The lazy lizard owes me another dance!”

Alone again, Saraya glanced out over the camp with new intention, and spotted the ringmaster across the way speaking with Luminaya. Quickly she began striding through the festivities’ outer edge, dodging around those stumbling drunks returning to the dance, and skipping passed a few young men locked in friendly fighting. Her pace increased to a greater speed when Silas looked in her direction. The glass jar in his hands was still a fourth of the way full, but she had no interest—not now, at least—in tasting its confections.

When the acrobat finally reached her, Veil was reclining against one of the wagons gazing out toward the fire. A wooden platter halfway filled with garnered goods and treats sat between her and the draconess upon an upturned barrel, partially touched. Stoically the ringmaster swirled a goblet of mulled wine about in hand, sipping from its steaming surface occasionally as she spoke. Luminaya, meanwhile, gnawed upon the marred end of an expensive ivory pipe carved with a dragon’s head, and puffing on the leaf within, was exhaling smoke out through her nose.

“Lady Veil,” Saraya began as she approached the two. “I need to speak with you.”

Veil’s expression did not change as she calmly continued to swirl her wine, and after a moment of letting the liquid settle she glanced to Luminaya. “We will continue our conversation later,” the ringmaster told the draconess. “I must speak with Miss Lafeir alone.”

Luminaya released a low growl reminiscent of a tired sigh, and a thick cloud of pipe smoke billowed out from between her fangs. “If you say so,” she grumbled with her usual grouchy tone (though her mood did not appear foul at all). Taking the pipe from between her lips then, she stood up with a stretch. Already heads taller than both ringmaster and acrobat with her knees bent in full recline, when the woman rose to her fullest height, wings completely outstretched, she towered over them like a beast. Always it was intimidating when a dracon stood this way, though the moment passed as Luminaya released yet another tired sigh. Sticking her pipe back into her teeth, she tucked her wings around her shoulders like a cloak and, walking only as dracon can, she began to stalk away.

Luminaya paused, however, as she made to pass Saraya. “Nestling,” she began, speaking down to her.

“I won’t be so much a nestling come the morrow,” Saraya corrected, knowing well the dracon slang and that it referred to a young child.

The draconess scoffed, pipe smoke escaping through her nose. “You will be a nestling for a long while yet,” she remarked pointedly, grinding the pipe’s end in her teeth. “Though, for your kind, I suppose that’s to be expected.” Luminaya bent down lower then, though still remained remarkably tall. “It will be hard for you, I think, but try not to do anything foolish while you’re away.” Having said this, she clipped Saraya under the chin before the acrobat could reply, and then the woman slunk away to another part of the camp.

“Well, Miss Lafeir?” Veil said immediately after the draconess took her leave.

Saraya scratched at the underside of her chin, her skin tingling where Luminaya’s claw had scraped her skin. “Are you not afraid we’ll be overheard?” She asked, gesturing toward the others.

“No,” the ringmaster answered factually. “The clamor is quite high tonight. It will drown out our conversation.” To prove her disregard for the presence of the crowd, she drank a little more liberally of her wine before lowering it below her chest. “I see Miss Maine has presented you her gift. You would do well to hold tight to it. You may need to draw on its strength in the days to come.”

Instinctively, Saraya squeezed the trinket in her palm. “Speaking of that,” she began as she leaned on the wagon next to Veil, “I think I might finally know what you meant.”

“Tell me then,” the woman coaxed, somehow sounding like she already knew.

For a brief moment Saraya paused, finding the proper words. “My duty is to protect the circus,” she answered, “because I want to, and because I can. I can’t be just an acrobat anymore because I can do much more.”

“And have you found the confidence to see it done?” The ringmaster questioned after. It was a reasonable thing to ask given how Saraya’s sudden lack of self assurance was why she had so harshly faltered during their conversation from before. Considering that, it likewise stood to reason that Veil would need to see that renewed assurance in her now.

Thus, again, the acrobat paused before she gave her answer. She had always said she would do anything for the circus she loved, anything for the matron she adored. This desire to do so, she was realizing, is what would steady her heart in the coming days, and is what would give her the resolve she needed to do all that she was asked. This was her chance to prove herself to Veil, and to the others as well. “Everyone has faith in me,” Saraya eventually began, squeezing the charm within her palm slightly tighter as she spoke. “So, if it means I must do what you say I must, then I will always see it done.”

“Very good,” Veil replied, satisfied with this promise. “I expected you would realize this. Many others already have. We all do what we must in order to preserve what we have created. You are no different, and will go because your aid is necessary. Our way of life will not survive in so absolute a chaos as what the Fall would bring, and so, in order to maintain that which we have gained, the Fall must be stopped. It is that simple.”

“When you say it like that, it seems so obvious. But is that really all there is to it, or is there something else?”

Veil scoffed amusedly under her breath, but she did not smile. “Your curiosity is both a great strength and a weakness, Miss Lafeir. It will be of tremendous use to you on the roads to come, but be wary it does not become a hindrance.” Again the ringmaster began swirling the wine within her glass, letting her thoughts similarly swirl about. “I do not do what I do for noble reasons, but for selfish gain. You know me well enough to have deduced this.”

“Yes, I know.”

“Then you should too know that I do nothing without a reason, even if some reasons are unknown to you. Remember, we are waging a war, you and I, a war fought through the implementation of small, choice battles. All those I have sent before you, each one who stood in the same place you do now, toil for my purposes. Each one is integral to my plans, same as you; plans whose consequences for failure spell death. The gods do not take kindly to those who meddle in their affairs, and I aim not only to meddle, but to prevent. Zephyr knew of this before she was sent off, as too did the others who have gone before.”

“Zephyr?” Saraya said, knowing well the name.

growled Alter in contempt, wholly failing to conceal the deep hurt she felt. Zephyr had been something of an elder sister to Saraya before Veil had sent her away four years ago. In fact, Zephyr had left in much the same manner that Saraya was meant to be leaving now, though the young woman had failed to say a proper goodbye to anyone before she disappeared. It hadn’t occurred to the acrobat that Zephyr was another just like her: someone who served the same purpose and who too knew the same truths.

“Yes, Zephyr,” Veil repeated. “She was well aware of the risks my plans would bring, and yet she adamantly sought to carry out what I asked regardless.” She gestured out to the campground before her, toward the dancing, the laughter and the music. “Recall that this was done for her as well: one final celebration on the chance she did not return.”

Saraya swallowed hard at this revelation. Such a harrowing reason to celebrate! She much preferred the notion that all this was done to wish one luck, not to wish the honored party a potentially last goodbye. But more importantly than this, Veil had mentioned the constantly-absent Zephyr and others long gone before her time. Such absence was a fate that Saraya did not wish to share, especially since the circus was so integral to who she was. “But what about me?” She timidly asked, almost afraid to know. “Will I return?”

“You will,” the ringmaster confirmed, easing Saraya’s mind. “Unlike Zephyr and the others, your place is here, by my side, within the sanctuary of the circus.”

“So I will come back,” the acrobat breathed, deeply relieved for the knowing. It was the greatest news she could have been given this night: the knowledge that she could come home.

Drained by all this sullen talk, Saraya found that she needed a sugary boost to maintain her mood, and so stepped around Veil to reach for the nearby platter upon the barrel. Snatching from it another sort of sugar cake, she took a large bite out of it just as the fast-paced tune of Spring Lively strummed up in song.

“You should rest soon,” Veil told her, inferring what was about to happen. Calmly then, she sipped her steaming drink as cheers once again filled the night. “Recall that you leave with the dawn.”

“On Talon?” The acrobat asked the woman, posing the question as a request.

“If you wish. That horse listens to few others outside of you and me. Take him, and it may prove beneficial for you both.”

Saraya smiled at hearing this. Talon was a stubborn, strong-willed, gigantic jerk of a horse, but the stallion was her favorite steed for the mutual bond they shared. If she was to have a travelling companion, she was happy it could be him.

Gazing out then to the crowd of dancers, watching them against the fire glow, the acrobat sighed somewhat longingly before pushing away from the wagon. Hesitating for but a moment, she stuffed what remained of her sponge cake into her mouth before skipping out toward the fire.

“Saraya…” Veil warned at her back, knowing the acrobat would get carried away.

“I know,” Saraya replied with a wave, grinning back at the ringmaster. “But you wouldn’t deny me one last dance. One, or two, or three!”