Flames of Revenge

Circus Folk

"If you please, sir," she said, in her sweetest voice, "the ringmaster told us to come and find you. He said to tell you that we're your new assistants."

Anderson's eyes widened, and he looked at Clara and Joshua with renewed interest. "Assistants, huh," he said, "Very well then, I suppose you'd better come in."

The inside of the wagon looked just like a little room. Clara and Joshua looked around in amazement. The walls were painted dark purple, and there was a large red velvet armchair in the corner. There were a couple of low gas lamps hanging from the ceiling, and a large round table was in the centre. On it was what appeared to be a real human skull.

Anderson slumped down in the armchair, and picked up a strange metal contraption from one of the shelves. Joshua and Clara hadn't the slightest idea what it was, but it was made up of many gears and screws, and Anderson seemed deep in thought as he absentmindedly wound up the tiny mechanism.

"Certainly doesn't waste his time, does he," the magician said, "Once the boss makes his mind up about something, nothing can stop him."

"The boss...sir?" Asked Joshua.

"The ringmaster, boy," Said Anderson in a loud, booming voice, "The leader of the circus, the man who this is named after. Are you stupid, boy? Well, are you?"

Joshua blushed and mumbled that he wasn't.

"That's better," Anderson sighed. "So..." he narrowed his eyes and looked at Joshua and Clara suspiciously. "You two are not really, orphans, are you? Why are you lying? What do you hope to achieve with this?"

Clara broke in before Joshua had a chance to reply. "Why does it matter?" She said fiercely, "It doesn't matter where we're from. All that matters is that we're here, now."

Anderson laughed. "You're a feisty one, aren't you?"

Clara stared down at her boots, her cheeks flushing.

"Anyway," Anderson stood up abruptly. "We've got no time to be sitting around having an idle chat. There's things to do, places to be. Next show's in half an hour. I'll be expecting you to be there."

Joshua's eyes widened. "Are you saying that we don't get any time to rehearse?"

"You're my assistants. You don't need to rehearse. You won't be doing anything except looking intelligent and smiling at the audience."

Seeing Joshua's look of shock, Anderson laughed. "Don't worry, the audience will love you. Who wouldn't love such sweet angels as you?"

Joshua was still unsure, but Anderson started to usher them out of his wagon.

"You can sleep in Bertha's wagon tonight," the magician said, "I'm sure she won't mind, as long as you don't make too much of a noise. Ask her to find you something to wear, won't you? You can't go on stage looking like this."

Just as he was about to close the door in their faces, the magician added, as if as an afterthought, "Oh, and please don't panic when I cut you in half."

Joshua gasped in fear. "W-what?" But Anderson only smirked.

"I don't want to be cut in half!" Joshua said in panic, "Please don't let him do this to me."

Clara sighed. "He's not going to really cut you in half, Joshua, he was only messing with you. It's all an illusion, see, something to do with a box and mirrors. I hear it's a very popular form of entertainment these days. Don't worry, it will be fine."

Joshua didn't look reassured, but nevertheless, he meekly followed her to the wagon Anderson had said belonged to Bertha.

Bertha turned out to be a young woman in her twenties, with a cynical expression and light, straw-coloured hair tied into a tight bun. She was in charge of costumes, she told them, and then emphatically added that she needed all the rest she could get. "You'd better not talk and keep me awake," she said crossly, "Or there'll be trouble."

She rummaged through drawers and racks, pulling out old skirts and wigs and tailcoats, muttering something about how she always had to do all the work. "It's always me," she grumbled, "It's always, 'oh, go see Bertha. Bertha, do this. Bertha do that.' And whenever something goes wrong, who do they blame? Me. Ungrateful, the whole lot of them. Never a word of thanks."

Eventually Bertha found two sets of clothes she deemed to be 'acceptable', and handed them to Clara and Joshua to change into.

Clara received a lovely skirt made from heavy velvet, and a white cotton blouse with lace edgings. The clothes smelt musty and the skirt was frayed at the edges, but that hardly mattered. Anything was better than wearing clothes given to her from Master Chapworth.

Joshua was utterly delighted at what he received. A purple cape with a pattern of suns and moons embroidered on it. He fingered the soft fabric fondly, a smile on his face. "Now you can be a real wizard, Joshie," Clara said. Joshua smiled happily.

Exactly one hour, thirty-two minutes and twenty-seven seconds later, Clara stood on sawdust-covered stage of the circus tent, looking out over the sea of audience and faces flushed with excitement.

The night had been a success so far. Clara had loved seeing the tightrope walking, how the young woman in a tutu had danced along the piece of string, suspended twenty feet off the ground, as if she were a fairy fluttering from flower to flower. Sheffjord the Clown had made her laugh with his antics, and she had gasped in awe and fear, along with the rest of the audiences, at the George the acrobat juggled glasses, knives and even flaming torches. It still made her sad to see the poor tiger and the elephant being led out and forced to perform an act on stage, but even that couldn't ruin her night.

And now it was time for the final show, the finale, the performance that would stun and shock the audience and make the remember the name of Wesley's circus forever.

"Behold!" Anderson said with great gusto, "I shall now saw my assistant, this charming young boy here, in half!"

There was a collective gasp of horror from the audience, and Clara had to bite back a smile.

Anderson had changed into a purple suit and cape that matched Joshua's, and his hair was neatly slicked back. Clara had to admit that he looked very impressive.

Joshua was lying in a large, black box. The lid was closed so that only Joshua's head was sticking out of the top. Suddenly, Clara started to feel scared. What if something went wrong? What if there was a mistake, an accident, and Joshua was hurt as a result?

But the magician sent Clara a glare, as if warning her to keep her mouth shut. Reluctantly, Clara stayed silent. He would be fine, wouldn't he? Anderson knew what he was doing. Well, she hoped so, anyway.

Clara held her breath as Anderson brandished the long, heavy saw, and started to cut through the box. It took all of Clara's willpower not to snatch it away from him, such was her protective nature.

Suddenly, Clara had a vision. The box Joshua was in looked an awful lot like a coffin...

She banished the morbid thoughts away. Anderson knew what he was doing. Joshua would be fine.

Clara watched nervously as the magician managed to cut through the whole box. Joshua smiled at her, and she sighed in relief. It had worked!

The audience went absolutely wild. Clara took a bow. She could get used to this life.

That night, Clara and Joshua collapsed into bed utterly exhausted but happy. It had been the best night they'd had in years. It was almost like the old times again.