Carnival: Shadows And Whispers Under The Big Top (Dane Stalling & darkangel76)

Mairon followed Cassidy into her small space, rolling the gold buttons around in his hand. Her trailer was neat, and he noticed that there was something else about it. Professional almost. There was no space wasted and things were organized in such a way as to be close at hand when they were needed. The decorations on the outside of the trailer were exquisite, and the inside had a beauty as well, but not fussy or overdone. He took a quick turn of the room and sat on a short stool.

"I confess I am not sorry that you have no escape this morning," Mairon said, touching his side gently. "You've been at the flaps and corners of my tent but you disappear when I turn to find you. I know about disappearing, and it makes me jealous when someone does it better than I can."

"I hid myself and my sister when we were children to escape beatings. Maybe you understand. I hid food for us in case of punishment. We never went to bed empty, even if we only had hard cheese crust or marrow from a soup bone. I still hide buttons."

He watched the crow, Morgaine, worry the little baubles in the bowl, enjoying the rattling. The bird seemed exceptionally tame, but for nipping Cassidy's finger. He wondered how much it understood of speech.

He reached out and brushed Cassidy's hair off her shoulder. "There's a button for your beautiful bird on your shoulder, and one under the cup yonder and one on top of the lamp and one tied to your crow's leg with a long dark hair."

The astonished look on Cassidy's face made him smile.

"Have you ever seen such tricks? I can teach you the simple ones if you like."

----

Barker Clive turned the coin over and over in his fingers as he sat on the narrow bench in Ava's trailer. "Coffee would be tip top," he said as he tipped his hat off and balanced it on his knees, "and I'd come up the line just to smell it brew." He'd have come just for as many words as he had already heard from her.

"You know the only exercise I get is tonguing words and the odd, ah, meal that comes along," he said, "but this morning's visit is on account of my unfortunate wager of last evening, and I'm afraid I've lost myself five coin and not a little self respect along with them."

He put Ava's silver coin on the table and five smaller brown coins of his own alongside them. She had his little gold flower in her fingers and he wondered what she thought of him. He pushed the coins to make a flower of coin on her table, a silver center and dark leaves.

"I'm not used to losing bets to ladies, or winning them neither. I save my gambling for marks, drunk ones if I can find them."

----

Filo the Blademan sat on the back of the last wagon, his feet hanging threespan above the dust of the hard old road.

"You can't say you're a better marksman than I am just because you can hit things that are further away," he said, turning a balanced knife over and over in his hand.

"That's a heap of the finest dung, man." Szem the shooter pointed his long rifle back along the road. Even clouded with dust, he could hit anything out to a quarter mile, and that from a moving trailer. "The idea is to keep a bastard too far away to throw rocks at you. Or fire arrows."

"You're always talking about combat. What are we, soldiers? I'm talking about showmanship. You can't use the rifle in the big top. Spooks the ladies. Besides, the audience can't see a bullet fly."

"I'm more accurate with a bow than you are with your knives," Szem said, then, and sighted down the barrel of his rifle at a cat crossing the road behind them. "And I can still hit things further out."

Filo yawned and flicked a knife at a tree trunk. It stuck in the center without wobbling. He flicked two more knives that embedded themselves to the left and right of the first one. He jumped off the back of the trailer and retrieved the knives, checking their points for chips. He paused a moment and carved the "F&C" in the trunk, then jogged back to the trailer and went inside. The afternoon was warm, not that it bothered him. He was used to his blast furnace, but the Doctor wouldn't let him use it on the road. Some bollocks about it being dangerous.

Szem drew a bead on the tree trunk and put a bullet in the middle of the "F."

----

The doctor sat on his couch with his hands on his knees, back straight. He explained the hysteria treatment again, the various techniques, the underlying science. Felicity listened, and he thought he saw some anxiety in her eyes. Stella lounged comfortably and listened, an amused look on her face.

"I hope that is sufficiently clear," he said, finally. "If you have any questions, of course, feel free to ask."

There were so many details that needed to fall into place, but the money would not be a problem now that Stella had taken a personal interest in his research.

"I have the use of a tinker who is training to assist me in my work," he said to Stella, "a very reliable fellow I have known for some time and who has a way with the gearworks. I will introduce you to him whenever you find it convenient. Now, however, I need to meet with him in his tinker shed to discuss his initial impressions of the great work we are beginning."

The Doctor stood and opened the door. "Please make yourselves at home, ladies. We should be arriving in Kaland in an hour or less and then we can make the therapy tent ready. I am most eager to begin."

He stepped out of the trailer and waited for Callum's trailer to come by. He swung up on to the back step and rapped on the door. "Hello Cal," he called, "Let's have a talk."

Callum opened the door, squinting, but happy. "Come in, Doctor. I think I have some good news."

He described the off-center cam and the piston wheel. "I think it would be possible to even combine both methods in various manners. We will have no shortage of things to try."

"Excellent work, Cal. We'll be setting up in Kaland before sunset and I want you to be there to get familiar with the conventional therapy so you have a full understanding of the essentials. I've ordered a curtain that will keep our patients who are not used to your countenance from unnecessary frights. We'll keep that particular asset of yours for the cage. So when you enter, use the back flap of the tent. Please trim and file your fingernails and make sure your hands are clean."

Even now, Callum could feel the great train of trailers slowing. It took a long time for the whole queue to stop.

Mairon's words caused the muscles of Cassidy's tummy to tighten. She did indeed understand. Too well. She remembered her days as a child, never knowing her father and her mother leaving her at the wharves one evening when she was far too young and shouldn't have been out. It had been well past the time any child should've been out and she knew when her mother left with the strange man that she wouldn't be back to fetch her. But she'd waited like a good girl, her thoughts darkening with each hour that passed until she finally meandered up the pier and found a sandy bed to sleep upon. The streets had become her home and she'd had to live by her wits. The frayed seams of her unraveled life had finally torn into shreds and it had been up to her to make the best of it. And that meant watching everyone around her...watching and learning.

Cassidy bit down on her lower lip, her dark eyes blinking rapidly as Morgaine flew off her shoulder to go search for the pretty gifts waiting for her. Her soft caws filled the tiny space, waking Cassidy from her reverie of a past she couldn't forget.

Smiling, cheeks warm, Cassidy averted her gaze and shifted her stance. "I admit I've never seen such tricks. Not even on the streets of Dragoste." She looked up at Mairon, expression almost coy. "You'd teach me those? A thief teaching another his trade?" She dared a step closer. "Aren't you afraid I'll steal from you, outdo the Great Jadú?" She paused then, her eyes softening despite her face turning serious. "Or, are you looking for an apprentice?"

Cassidy's breath caught in her throat as the words left her mouth. But she was committed, her eyes fixed on Mairon's. Morgaine continued to caw happily as she took another step closer.

~~~

Ava set down a fresh cup of steaming coffee for Clive to sip and stared at the coins he displayed on the table. Her hand tightened around the little flower she held, so small and delicate against her palm. She then carefully placed it into her pocket for safekeeping and cleared her throat.

"I got this lot from Rhianna," Ava said in regards to the coffee. Before sitting down, she went to her stores and grabbed some bread. She put it on a plate and decided it was time to open her jar of strawberry preserves she'd been holding onto. "I also have this. If you'd like some," she added, a hint of hesitance in her voice. It was odd feeling this nervous and around Clive of all people. But the manner in which he'd come to her. It made her tummy feel strangely and her blood run a little warm.

Without thought, Ava began breaking off pieces of bread and spreading jam on them. Her eyes caught glimpses of the coins while her thoughts dwelled on the flower in her pocket.

"You don't take many chances with women then?" Ava asked, her mouth suddenly feeling quite dry. "Why is that, dear jibber-jabber?"

~~~

They were at it again. Cordelia could hear them from inside her trailer and she wondered when they'd ever give it a rest. Doctor Manuel or perhaps that new girl he picked up in Faraviata...that Miss Lucas...might find it a nuisance. Or—and this could be an even bigger problem than either the Doctor or Miss Lucas—Albert Sparrow might complain! Then again, she loved watching them brawl like the gentlemen that they were—savage, yet sophisticated. It was enough to make her pant in heat. She wondered if either of them knew that and it would be worth the complaints just to glimpse the two snarling at each other in their peculiar way.

Sighing, Cordelia walked over to her looking glass and adjusted her corset. Her breasts looked especially divine thanks to the heaven sent garment. Elspeth's alterations made it fit perfectly, hugging her curves in the most delectable way. Of course, she already knew she didn't need much help there. She was naturally blessed in several ways. But it never hurt to go the extra mile and she was always willing to go that extra bit or take that unnecessary risk.

It was always worth it. And oh the thrill!

Cordelia opened the door to her trailer, the red paint of the doorway framing her like she was an exotic vixen from a land far away. Part of that was true. She was very far from home, but she was exactly where she wanted to be. Especially once her eyes rested on Filo and Szem as they battled talents of knife and gun. A shiver ran down along her spine and she imagined herself strapped to the target as they took turns aiming and...

It was moments like that when her blood sizzled.

"At it again, boys?" Cordelia asked, her voice thick with accent. She walked down the steps, her hips swaying as she moved. Her dark hair blew away from her face and down along her back as she made her way toward the two men she knew so very well.

~~~

Felicity glanced at Rhianna who was sitting quietly, a smile playing on her lips, as she sipped her tea. The wild red-head then gave her a look indicating that she sip more of her tea as it would only get cold if she continued to merely hold it. Nodding, she did just that. The warm liquid did taste good, slightly sweetened as the cinnamony flavor danced along her tongue.

"Mm..." Felicity moaned softly, the tip of her tongue licking her lips before she sipped some more. Rhianna only giggled and finished off her own tea.

Stella's smile broadened. "Come, dear, sit." She escorted Felicity sit on a rather comfortable looking chair meant for two. Once Felicity sat down, she took her place next to her. "When did you last bathe?"

"B-bathe?" Felicity squeaked.

"Why yes, darling!" Stella couldn't hide her own giggles. Rhianna got up and sat closer to the other two. "You'll be assisting in some very important research and hygiene is of utmost importance. Rhianna can help make sure you get the best."

"Of course she will," Rhianna chimed in. She peered over Felicity's shoulder, her freckled face quite close to the stunned girl's.

Felicity nodded and smiled. She was feeling rather relaxed and took another sip. As she brought the cup to her lips, Rhianna placed her index finger at the base of the cup to help the girl down her drink. When Felicity had finished her tea, she let out a contented sigh.

"Feeling better?" Stella asked.

Felicity just nodded.

"Excellent," Stella stated as she clapped her hands together. "We'll be arriving in Kaland shortly and I need to be off. I'm a busy girl, you know." She winked as she stood up. "Good thing my connections run far." She giggled lightly, the sound like music, as she began heading toward the door. "I need to see about attaching a lab to our little train." Suddenly, she stopped and turned around. "After all, we want our research to be able to continue during our travels and not just when we make stops. We must think progressively!" She raised a hand in the air, index finger pointed.

"To progress! To the future!" Rhianna blurted.

~~~

Meanwhile, Elspeth was busily stitching together the curtain the Doctor had requested. It had taken several hours, but she was nearly done and putting the final touches on the item, making sure it would hold together as well as function in the odd manner in which he'd instructed—concealing the therapist. She had to admit that it had come along quite well and much faster than she'd expected. It had been fortunate that she'd had much of the material already on hand. The Doctor would be able to set up his therapy tent in no time and be able to use the curtain she'd fashioned whenever and however he wanted. Truly, it was a remarkable piece. She just hoped he'd be happy with it.

Coughing, Elspeth bit off the thread and knotted it. The curtain was done. Carefully, she folded it up. It was ready to be delivered. She grabbed her hooded cloak and draped it over her shoulders, pulling the hood up over her head. Peeking outside, she glanced around to see who might be about. It wasn't often that she went out during the day. Clutching the curtain, she stepped outside and headed toward the front of the line.

The hammer foreman left the Doctor's trailer and shrugged at the group of men standing, waiting to start. "He says to put up the therapy tent before the big top." The men shifted their grips on their big hammers, placed tent pegs on the marks the survey crew had made the day before, and began hammering stakes into a flat field just outside of Kaland. In minutes, the floor tarpaulin was stretched tight and the center pole of the Doctor's tent went up.

----

Clown Roald wandered the fields, making a lazy lap around what would become the carnival grounds for the next days or weeks, depending on how the money flowed. He was dressed simply, grey pants, a rough loose shirt, his hair in the breeze. He savored the last few hours of invisibility before the lime-lights were lit. He loved the ring, he had sought it out years ago, and he courted the fame, but these moments when nobody noticed him at all were refreshing in small doses. He could feel the wind on his face directly, and his nerves tingled with the unaccustomed sensitivity. He would put the zinc cake on soon enough, but now he was nobody. Across the river was another field, a little rougher, with a small circle of wagons much like the carnival's, but more ornate, if that were possible. Roald heard distant laughter and the shake of a tambourine. Gypsies. They could be useful to a carnival or the death of one. It would be prudent to make friends, or at least drink a night away with them. He turned, and from a couple hundred yards away, the carnival train looked like a colorful necklace that a child was dismantling bead by bead. Horses were drawing the trailers into the familiar camp arrangement. He saw a cloaked woman picking her way up the line, tentative and skittish. She coughed into a fine kerchief and he knew who she was. She delivered some parcel or other to the Doctor's trailer and turned to go back to her own. Surely some pure white garment or other. The man had no imagination when it came to clothing. Roald smiled and turned toward her, taking long strides across the green field.

"I thought you only bloomed in the night-time," he said as he drew near.

"Come see the stream across the field," he said, "It has red flowers on the banks and a school of pan-fish that will fry sweet later."

----

Mairon was struck with Cassidy's look, at once alluring and shy. She was no brash twin. She was at once less forward and more secure than they. She had something in her beyond just soulful eyes and glistening hair.

"A thief who confesses so easily doesn't stay out of the jailhouse long unless she is very good," he said. "And I never said I was a thief. What makes you think so?"

He took three of her silver spoons out of his vest pocket and laid them neatly next to each other on her table. "How light are your fingers? Or does pretty Morgaine do your work for you?"

The crow had found all the buttons, collecting them as though she understood Mairon's words. She rattled them, dropped one on the floor to see if it would crack and deliver something delicious as well as pretty.

"I've never sought an apprentice. I had thought to teach my sister, but she has no love for the stage," he said, but he saw Cassidy's eyes, saw a burning there. "Any lightfinger that can lift from me, though, would be a considerable asset in the carnival. And a beautiful one would be a useful... distraction. Do you think you can pass that test?"

----

Barker Clive sipped the precious coffee and closed his eyes to savor it. The whole carnival was a band of scavengers, but Rhianna had the gift. "Rhianna could find whisky in a Tribulation Baptist Preacher's cupboard, and walk away with it too," he said, but his mind wasn't on the ginger soothsayer. Ava, sad and lovely, the beauty of the circus, spreading strawberry jam on a bread chunk for him. The luxurious courtesy was strange and touching. Why would she treat him like this? He had expected her to whisk away his five coin and bid him a good day. He had been looking forward to even that simple exchange.

"Chances with women, my Lady," Clive said, turning his hat in his hands, "Yes, they've gotten me a whipped back and blackened eyes." And two broken fingers, three broken ribs, a cracked jaw and four lost teeth. It was one thing to have been beaten. It was another to have been left for dead, bleeding into the mud under the gallows tree. There were women who were dependable as steel as long as one had the coin for it, and Barker slipped off to one of their bright houses on occasion, but he went alone, and came back early. "Ladies like a fast talker out between the tents, but they usually lock arms with someone taller and less endowed with words when it comes to letting a man into the bower."

"And you? You take chances with coin, and no hesitation."

He took a bite of the bread and jam. It had never seemed precious growing up, among the wide flat strawberry fields. The berries were the brightest, sweetest thing at the crossroads farms, but they hadn't been bright enough to keep him there. He had walked away as soon as he had learned to catch rabbits and make fires, and he had never stopped moving.

Here though, now, after years, their flavor brought a light to his eyes. "These remind me of where I came from," he said, "I used to be the tallest thing I could see from horizon to horizon. Even our huts were half underground for cool. Now everything is tall. Even you- dancing on your wire, the queen of the show. You're on top and no mistaking." He let his eyes flicker over her form. She was more perfect up close, even, than on high, and sadder. "I wonder what makes you smile, though, if it isn't winning coin from unlucky wordrunners."

----

Szem saw Cordelia first and managed to get a couple steps ahead of Filo to greet her.

Hello, you wonderful lady," he said, "you jewel of the road." He took her hand and bowed to kiss her hand, but before his lips touched her skin, Filo brushed by and swept her off her feet.

"Come, pretty, let's find an uncontaminated place to talk." He walked with her in his arms, enjoying her laughter at his prank, but when he looked down at her, Szem had slipped up behind them and was in the process of kissing her lips. He spun around, and did the first thing to come to his mind. He kicked dirt on Szem's shiny boots. "Off, you barbarian! The lady is already in the arms she wants most to be in."

The flintlock pistol came out fast, and Filo found himself looking down the barrel, Szem's steady eye dead above the sight.

Filo adjusted Cordelia's delightful weight in his arms and sneered at the gunman. "Maybe you would kill me, but would you get dust on the dress of the lady? I think even you are not such a beast." He stepped forward, into the gun until the tip of the barrel touched his nose. "Fire, and lose her."

When the gun did not fire, Filo grinned and kissed Cordelia on the lips, a leisurely, taunting kiss. Then he let her feet touch the ground. "You'll make one of us a murderer, Lady, and you will weep over the other. I, for one covet both positions."

He hid a knife in his palm, and as Cordelia gained her balance, he cut the button on Szem's breeches and they fell. The gun fired and took off the tip of Filo's left ear.

"You bastard!" Filo yelled, his hand pressed against his ear.

Szem tried to reverse a step, tripped on the breeches around his ankles and fell hard on his back. He took a breath, said a single word, "Cordelia..." and passed out.

----

The Doctor heard the gunshot, looked curiously down the line and saw the blademan, the shooter, and Cordelia. He shrugged and turned his head towards Callum's trailer.

"Persistent, gentle pressure is essential," the Doctor explained as he walked next to Callum towards his white therapy tent, "the patient needs to be relaxed in one way and stimulated in another. It's a balancing act. You're a clever one, though. You'll catch on quick."

Elspeth's curtain was, as always, far beyond his expectation. She had made a liquid black drape from velvet and she had worked images of dancing satyrs in black thread into the edges of the curtain. The girl never made anything plain. The screen in the curtain was almost perfectly invisible from the patient side, and as long as there was no strong light on the therapist's face, the patient would never see.

Callum came through the tent flap into a ward of the therapy tent that had been sectioned off by hanging woolen blankets on a long bar. A medical cot took the center of the floor with a rich black drape hanging halfway down the cot. The arrangement was well thought out and discreet, but Callum felt his face a liability for the first time in a long time. The Doctor was among a very few people who did not flinch or gawk at his deformities, the split lips and the fleshy growths on his face. If he thought Callum should be hidden, he knew to hide, but would there never come a time to just live as others did? Would he always live in shadows and cages?

He heard womens' voices and sat on a low stool in the shadow behind the curtain. He called the chirurgeon's diagrams to mind, reviewed the procedures, then his mind went blank. He heard a voice that he recognized. A voice he had only heard briefly, once.

Elspeth dabbed the handkerchief at the corners of her mouth. Her dark eyes stared at it and softened before she tucked the thing into one of the many pockets hidden within the rumpled folds of her skirts. Once again, relief washed over her to see the flimsy material come away just as pristinely white as it was when she'd brought it to her lips. For weeks—months—she'd feared the moment she'd bring it away and see drops of crimson dotting the cloth. But so far, her luck was holding and that frightening moment was pushed back until another presented itself. She hurried along the line of trailers, eyes fixed upon the ground as she hastily made her way back to her lavender sanctuary. Her fist clamped tightly about a section of her cloak, keeping snug against her slim body.

The soft thud of heavy footfalls reached Elspeth's ears as she moved along the train. She perked up her head and dared to peer out of a corner of her eye to see who might be nearby. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw Roald heading toward her, that face she rarely knew unless it was hidden beneath white and red and black. He looked so different as the wind blew through the line of brightly colored wagons and the scent of the nearby wood of Kaland drifted in—different and nothing like the clown that took center stage with his rowdy and raunchy entourage. Right then, he was a man, the other half of the whole that felt so far away and she so longed to reach, to touch.

Slowly, with trembling hands, Elspeth pushed back her hood. Her dark eyes were bright despite the dark rings circling them. She smiled as Roald's sweet words found her and he neared, his shadow engulfing hers. Clearing her throat, she curtsied and peered up into his face.

"Good m-morning, R-roald." Elspeth felt a heat creep up along her skin as her eyes found his. It was always strange to see him this way—alone, face bared to the world. A part of her liked to pretend she was the only one truly allowed to see him so carefree, so natural and in his element. It was much like how she pretended the sweet lullabies she heard him sing at night were meant for her, words that only she could decipher while everyone else was none the wiser.

Elspeth watched Roald carefully as he smiled at her, suggesting they take leave of the halted train. The idea of exploring the nearby wood, picking flowers, sitting by a cool stream sounded pleasant and even more so in the company of the one person that didn't make her nervous, though she couldn't help but quiver in his presence.

Nodding her head, soft auburn waves coming free from the confines of her hood, Elspeth dared a step forward. She clasped her hands together in front of herself. "Th-thank you. I'd love to see what you've f-found exploring the place so early." She felt her cheeks grow even hotter. "And perhaps the flowers w-will be useful f-for my trade," she added, averting her gaze, her tummy fluttering happily, as her lips suddenly turned upward into a sweet smile.

Of course, Elspeth had plenty of time to search for plants useful for making dyes, though she was glad for the easy excuse. She took another step, her smile growing. This wasn't about dyes or anything of the matter. It was about making the moment linger, about seeing the funny man in a way most did not. It was about making this feeling she felt inside last even if it was only fancy.

~~

Skin flushed, the tiny space of her trailer feeling small and warm, Cassidy reached out a hand only to take hold of Mairon's. Carefully, she turned it over as if examining his knuckles, his palm. She smiled when she brought up her other hand and traced a finger lazily along the callouses.

"I'd know the hands of a thief anywhere," Cassidy said softly, her dark eyes moving from Mairon's hand to his eyes.

Cassidy let his hand drop then and Morgaine let out a soft croak. She was busy with her pretty presents, more than satisfied. Taking a step back, Cassidy, glanced toward the bird and giggled softly.

"I've managed so far," Cassidy then added, turning back toward Mairon, her eyes flitting toward the spoons. "As for your test..." she continued, bringing up a hand and holding out a small pocket watch. "You tell me if I pass...your requirements."

Cassidy's heart never beat so hard or so fast. She licked her lips as the watch dangled from her hand and she slowly brought it down and pressed it into Mairon's hand. One by one, she closed his fingers about the metal trinket, her dark eyes never leaving his.

~~

Ava's spine stiffened slightly and she shifted in her seat before bringing her own piece of bread slathered in jam up to her lips. Her eyes caught Clive's as she took a bite and savored the flavor of the fruity preserves before swallowing it down. The sugary sweetness complemented the bold flavor of the coffee she'd just been sipping and as she watched her company enjoy the treat she'd chosen to share, she knew her decision to share hadn't been wasted.

Clive. Sitting with the man, as she was, wasn't something Ava thought the two of them would ever entertain. She walked the highwire with Albert and he ran his mouth for potential patrons, luring them in with twisted words and pretty tales. He also managed to earn a coin or two with that mischievous grin and a reputation for knowing secrets. People sought him out to learn more about their favorites, to earn a moment with an idol or even a glance. All it took was a copper and he was the man who could make things happen.

Or, that's how it seemed to Ava. Clive was a mystery. A man who knew everyone and everything. Yet... Her tummy fluttered again as he continued to speak, his words clawing their way into her soul. She looked at him wondering how, and why, he'd say such things. The man who knew how the carnival breathed, who could blend in at every venue.

Ava bit down on her lower lip as she set down her bread. She stared at the coins for a moment and then, finally, pushed them toward his plate.

They were his, after all. She knew they would be. But she couldn't pass up a wager knowing it meant they'd have to cross paths again.

"Every chance I seem to wager, dear jibber-jabber, results in a fall." Ava sighed and looked into Clive's eyes. "You caught me in a moment, I suppose," she went on, her eyebrows knitting together as her muscles tensed and her one hand reached into the pocket with the flower. She gently squeezed it before removing her hand and placing it back on the table, palm down, fingers splayed. "I...I wasn't myself." It was suddenly becoming difficult to breathe. "Tell me, dear jibber-jabber," she continued, her voice a whisper, though a small smile seemed to tease the corners of her lips. "Will you catch me now, as I fall?"

~~

Their words were pretty. Then again, they always were. Cordelia remembered quite well just how alluring and enticing they were when she first met Filo and Szem. Back then, the two had been showing off to the locals, drawing a crowd easily as they ooh'd and ahh'd them with their feats of danger. Then the looks on their faces when she'd moved through the crowd, stepping forward and being bold enough to dare them to hit a target she'd held with her own two hands. Oh the thrill as they'd stared, jaws dropping wide before they'd obliged and carried on with their little spectacle. She'd been with them since and she'd never regretted it once.

Filo's strong arms whisked Cordelia up into a tight embrace. She could feel his corded muscles flexing as he held her close. But Szem was quick to action as he came round and suddenly, boldly, pressed his lips to hers.

Cordelia lost her breath the moment Szem's lips brushed against hers. They were softer than she'd expected and never had the man acted so brashly. Neither of them had. But the gunman had upped the ante with this stunt. Or was it a stunt at all? She couldn't tell as her blood rushed in her ears and Filo pushed the man away with insults. The next thing she heard was a click and the gun in Szem's hand was point at Filo who then shifted and held her in front of the loaded barrel.

Cordelia's heart was pounding, adrenaline coursing through her, as her dark eyes shifted to gaze at Szem's hand about the gun handle. His trigger finger hesitated. He wouldn't fire. He couldn't. Could he? Just as she was about to speak, Filo smirked triumphantly and leaned down, his lips finding her own. Ah, she knew what this was. Filo was 'seeing' Szem's kiss and 'raising' him one.

Filo's kiss was hardly quick, hardly seizing the moment like Szem had done only moments ago. No. Cordelia felt his tongue teasing her lips, begging she part them and let him play and explore. A part of her wanted to oblige, but another wouldn't dare give in. Instead, she let his lips freely roam her own, while she enjoyed the eagerness and softness his betrayed. It was a trifling thing. She knew that. But since she was caught in the middle of their scuffle, the object of this abject—yet indescribably libidinous—behavior, she decided she might as well make the best of it. After all, she was fond of both men and often dreamed of one of them chasing her down, relentless in their pursuit until they caught her and ravaged her again and again, making her scream out in ecstasy. Some nights, it was Filo and others, it was Szem.

When Filo set her down, Cordelia had all she could do to keep her thoughts together. The brawls between the two men were certainly getting more thrilling as the two constantly raised the stakes each and every time.

Just then, Cordelia saw Szem's pants fall down. There was a loud blast and she immediately crouched and covered her ears. The sound had been loud, close. She looked up at Filo, the man clutching his ear, a trickle of blood seeping between his fingers. Her dark eyes widened and she saw Szem fall backwards, calling out her name. But his head hit the ground far too hard. He was passed out from the fall.

"I...what...?" Cordelia was stunned, her heart hammering as she began to realize that Szem had actually tried to shoot Filo.

Had he known the bullet would miss her? Was it a warning? Was it...?

So many questions and it made her blood heat!

Cordelia raced to Szem's side and knelt down beside him. She turned his face from side to side and then pressed her hands to his cheeks. "Szem! Szem!" she cried. "Filo, please help me! He's unconscious!"

The very thought of losing Szem made Cordelia's heart shatter. She couldn't lose him! She wouldn't be able to bear it. Salty tears welled in her eyes as she let her hands gently caress Szem's face. She then looked up at Filo, her eyes pleading.

"Please," Cordelia begged. "Don't make me go on without one of you."

~~

"You'll be fine, darling," Stella spoke with a smile, her pink lips plump and glistening with a sleekness unbefitting a girl of her age and station. She petted Felicity's strawberry curls before bringing her hand down and linking arms with her. Yes, the sweet thing was still nervous. But Rhianna had seen to easing off most of the edge. The bath had also helped. The aroma of sweet oils and soothing flowers had done their job and their light chitter-chatter had done the rest.

Rhianna had certainly found a glittering diamond among the rough. She was new to these people, but she was quickly learning her way. And the soothsayer was one she was happy to have on her side. She just hoped that their goals never altered paths. She'd hate to make a bitter enemy, especially with one seeming to have a knack when it came to people. Or did the wild girl truly have the gift of clairvoyance? It was hard to say. These people were full of trickery and schemes. Something she learned early before her parents suddenly passed, their cause of death unknown, leaving doctors and all matter of important men completely puzzled. Though one thing she did learn early, still an innocent in the eyes of most, was that if one wanted attention...they found a way to get it. And she'd become quite the connoisseur at getting what she wanted. As she thought on the freckled fortune-teller, she couldn't help but smile. No. Rhianna would never cross her. She fancied the odd girl far too much. Surely that counted for much.

"I'll do my best," Felicity said softly as she and Stella neared a tent that didn't quite fit the look of the rest. It was sterile in its appearance, the most important thing she'd ever beheld. She was embarking on something novel, something only the most educated minds could hope to pursue.

"Of course, you will," Stella said with a soft giggle. "Once inside, you'll find a cot. You may de-robe and lay down upon it." She paused and the two stopped in front of the tent. "Listen to your instructions and do not worry your pretty head any further than that."

"But..." Felicity attempted to interject, but Stella raised up her hand as if shushing her.

"Now, now. This is for science, dear girl. Just enjoy what you have to offer it." Stella's smile grew and she giggled softly. "I assure you, there's nothing that you're about to do that will be wrong." She placed a firm hand on Felicity's shoulder and nudged her into the therapy tent. "Now go."

Felicity stumbled slightly as she entered the strange tent. She saw the cot and a drape hanging oddly over half of it. She swallowed hard and mentally went over everything both Stella and Rhianna had explained. Slowly, she moved toward the cot and let the robe she wore slip over her shoulders, bared and flawless as the cool air swirled around her body. She felt nervous, though she knew she didn't need to be. Carefully, she hoisted herself up onto the cot, her legs dangling over the side. She let the robe fall fully from her body.

"H-hello?" Felicity dared to ask. Her cheeks warmed as she sat there, unsure if she was alone and anticipating the instructions that would lead to her participation in the most profound of scientific research. Research that would benefit not just women, but the world!

~~

On the outskirts of Kaland, the fires roared with life as everyone danced and sang. Normally, Tsigana loved to partake in the revelry and fun. But her eye had caught sight of a strange train with beautifully colored trailers as it meandered closer and closer, finally coming to a stop not far off. She wondered if they were a roaming clan much like her own people.

Curious, Tsigana made her way into the wood and watched. The people were strange, not like her family. But they were interesting and lively and wore bright colors that beckoned. She'd heard tales of the circus people as a child and now she was getting the chance to see them first hand. It was a dream come true and the urge to learn more swelled inside the longer she watched such glamorous people as they practiced and frolicked about.

"Sigi! Sigi! Come dance with us!" called one of the men. But Tsigana just sniffed. Her curiosity had been piqued as she watched the tents go up, the glitter and glitz of costumed men and women prancing around as they rehearsed and conversed, telling jokes and making merry.

Sigi suddenly sucked in a sharp breath and her heart skipped a beat the moment her blue eyes caught sight of the man sulking in front of his trailer. His eyes seemed so sad, so full of despair. She felt a pang of desire. Without further thought, she ran off to find her parents.

Albert sat on a stool and leaned against the wheel of his trailer. The sun, at least, felt good. Everything else felt like outhouse slop. He wore a black velvet bathrobe and he didn't care that it dragged the ground. He didn't care that his hair was uncombed, that his mustache was unoiled. The little tart had tricked and teased him, Ava humiliated him, and then he had been forced to go to sleep to the sounds of Kenna and someone much, much luckier than him carousing just in the next trailer. He knew her squeals, and every one drove a spike through him.

Smoke rose in the distance, across the river, and the distant sounds of music tinkled faint on the breeze. It was early to be dancing. He shielded his eyes and stood for a look. Closer, by the trees, he caught sight of a girl's golden hair, flipped and running in the other direction. He sat down in disgust. He wouldn't be chasing those run-away teases ever again. Not for a while. Four days, maybe, or three. He ran his fingers through his hair, shook out a cigarette from a pack that advertised "The finest in deFum" and fitted it into a short holder. Two days and he'd be back in form. These little setbacks were temporary.

----

Doctor Manuel was on his way to the therapy tent when Cordelia screamed for him. He had half a mind to ignore her. He was eager to get on with the research, but she would just keep making noise until he paid attention. He stepped into the back flap of the therapy tent, though, just to let Callum know.

"I have something of an emergency," he said low into Callum's ear. He turned to go, then paused and added, "You'll be fine."

Callum was so stunned he didn't answer right away, and by the time he thought to ask what to do first, the Doctor was gone.

----

Cordelia met the Doctor halfway. "Szem's fallen and he's unconscious and Filo's bleeding from his ear!" Cordelia said, holding her dress up to keep from stepping on it as they hurried to where Szem was just sitting up.

"Ay dios mio, que lío," she said, and launched into what the Doctor could only assume was an angry and demanding prayer in one of the old languages of Spain.

Filo laughed. The blood had slowed from the edge of his ear and it hurt, but he chuckled and pointed at Szem. "You missed me from two inches away, sharpshooter. Wait till the barker hears about this."

"You're a cheating bastard, Filo. And I wasn't trying to kill you. My Lady seems to think you have worth, and what she values, I... tolerate. Grudgingly, because I have no love for you, blacksmith." He held a kerchief to the back of his head. He was not bleeding much.

The Doctor watched, bemused. The one who seemed to be most in need of treatment was Cordelia. She was hysterical at the injuries of her suitors and kept rushing from one to the other. This would cost him some whiskey.

"Help him to my trailer," the Doctor said to Filo, "And make sure you get Cordelia there too."

He poured three glasses of whiskey, and made a cup of tea for himself. Cordelia downed hers and coughed. The Doctor sipped his tea and stopped the men from drinking with a shake of his head. He stared at Szem significantly and he got the hint and passed his glass to Cordelia untasted. As an initial treatment for hysteria, alcohol worked in sufficient amounts, but only temporarily. He feared that Cordelia would need more comprehensive treatment. She drank the second glass, took a big breath, and let it out slowly.

Filo saw what was happening and huffed in frustration. He left his glass, no doubt destined to calm Cordelia into unconsciousness, and left the Doctor's trailer. He had liquor of his own and he was no stranger to treating his own wounds.

----

There were no nets for the wirewalkers. Everyone knew- never a net. They were as sure in the air as any four-footed turtle on the ground, and much more fun to watch. Barker Clive blinked at Ava. What could she mean when she asked if he would catch her?

"I will do my best, I'm sure, my Lady, but why would such as you need catching? You've never fallen an inch or a foot since I saw you first. And I'm not ashamed to say I've watched closely. You're a fine woman, better than any tonguewagger deserves. I'd spread my arms to catch you whenever you asked, from whatever height."

She had pushed the coins away, toward him, and he understood. How stupid did a man have to be to bet on whether a woman's husband (or supposed husband, or brother. Who was Albert to her, after all?) was to be unfaithful yet again? Very stupid indeed. The little coin flower was pushed toward him, distorted and bent. Five coin won, and he didn't want to touch it.

"Let's not wager, Lady Ava," he said, finally. "I want no winnings from your tears."

He picked his five single coins and pushed the silver back. "I'll be grateful for a smile, though. How can I earn that precious trinket, I wonder?"

----

"We clowns are cowards," Roald said, taking leisurely steps across the green field. "We only speak our minds from behind masks. Chins, for example. He's filthy under paint, but when he's clean he's the most boring Tribulation Baptist churchgoer you've ever seen. Shuns the liquor, keeps his hands off the ladies, speaks pure and only smokes once a day after dinner."

Roald sighed, "Mojo's always a dissolute reprobate, though, so maybe he's more honest than me."

They wandered, slowly in the ankle-deep grass and Roald leaned over and picked a bright flower from time to time. When they arrived at the river, he invited Elspeth to sit with him and watch the water flow left to right, with ripples and eddies at the banks. He had always felt the need to fill silences with songs or stories, but now, the river sound and the girl at his side made him content and peaceful. He put his arm around her, felt her warmth at his side. He hummed a lilting lullaby that seemed to go with the clear water, then fell silent again and watched fish flash and dart in the depths. Smoke rose from the gypsy wagons, and laughter. A question formed itself in his mind, and he spoke quietly.

"What will it take to make you well, Elspeth? Your breath should be free and light."

----

Mairon's hand went automatically to his vest pocket. Cassidy had managed not only to extract the watch without him noticing, she had released the chain as well.

"I..." Mairon started, then stopped, enthralled with her hands on his, pressing the watch, closing his fingers. "I've never seen that done before. I always had to break the chain."

He grasped her hand and examined her fingers in return. Soft at the tips for grip, but strong. He could smell no wax or talc on her to ease a lift. He checked his button hole where the watch chain had been anchored and it was not slit open as he expected. She used no razor, only her fingers, and, he realized now, her eyes. The arrangement of her trailer suddenly made sense. She was a consummate professional, disciplined and efficient. Everything that surrounded her spoke to him of it. He touched a hand to his moneybag secretly to see if it was still there. It was, but he could not tell if its contents were undisturbed. He smiled broadly and brought the tip of her index finger to his lips and kissed it. "You have passed the test and schooled the master. We may teach each other," he said, eyeing her form with more than professional interest, "what other surprises do you have for me?"

The crow cawed and watched Cassidy with an oddly intelligent gaze.

----

The smell of flowers swirled around the curtain and Callum heard someone perch on the cot.

"Hello?" she said, and he didn't have to see her to know who she was. The lady with the leather bag. He felt strange sitting on the stool, so he sat on the cot as well, and peered carefully through the curtain. She sat bare and innocent just a curtain breadth away from him. He felt a stirring behind his pants-buttons that the Doctor might have called improper. He adjusted himself carefully.

"Hello," he said, "I'm Cal. I'm an assistant to the Doctor, so I suppose we are colleagues, both helping with the research."

The book had said that trust between the therapist and the patient was important, that a fearful patient would not be able to arrive at the cleansing paroxysm. Callum didn't have to read about fear. He knew all about it, how people reacted to him when he startled them, and it had made him careful. He had learned how to minimize people's fears as much as possible, at least within the carnival. He tried to be as honest as he could.

"I should tell you that I have studied the procedures, but I've never done them before. I am not a physician- I am what the Doctor calls a 'handy-man' or a tinker. To be honest, I am a little nervous. Please speak freely, tell me what you feel and I will try to minimize any unpleasantness."

Callum touched the curtain. It must be frightening and mysterious to her. It was black as night, the only black thing in the whole tent. "The curtain is the Doctor's idea," he said, "and it must be awfully mysterious. He has a good reason for it, but please just think of it as the nighttime. Pretend that I am bewitched and I will turn into a terrible monster if you look at me, but as long as I am invisible to you, I am just Cal, working with you for the betterment of science."

It was like the story she loved. He wished such stories were true.

He took a breath and let it out. He stood next to the cot. "When you're ready, lie on the cot and pull the curtain to your waist. We will begin slowly."

"Oi there, mama! Mama!" Sigi shouted as she threw open the orange wagon door. Her golden locks were slightly tousled, but her face was lit up with a dazzling smile that reached all the way to her sparkling blue eyes. She threw herself at her mother, her arms wrapping about the plump older woman's neck causing her to fuss, yet smile.

"Oh, now, now, dear. What's got you ruffled and riled?" The older woman tucked a graying black curl behind her ear and looked upon the golden girl with dark eyes that had seen many moons and many places. Pulling back from Sigi's embrace, she took her hands in her own and patted them gently, like any loving mother would do. "Your father would whip you with all your frolicking about," she teased. But Sigi could only laugh.

"I saw him, mama!" Sigi exclaimed. "I saw him this morning just waiting there for me. You and papa will have to meet him." She jumped back and clapped her hands together excitedly.

"Oh, you saw him, now...who is this him?" Sigi's mother's smile broadened and she leaned closer, not wanting to miss a single detail.

"Mama, he's perfect! The man of my dreams!" Sigi went on, twirling about the room. Her golden hair was a like sunlight on a dreary day. "We must have a party to show him off, something to let him know just how grand and marvelous he is!" She suddenly stood still and frowned, her one hand moving to rest on the small gun holstered on her hip for safety. Everyone in the clan carried something. It was part of life on the road. Times were treacherous, especially when pirates lurked not just the seas, but the roads as well. "Do you think he would mind a party?"

"Who would mind?" came a booming voice, low and bellowing as a burly man thrust open the wagon door. He wiped the back of his hand over his brow as he stepped inside and removed his hat, setting it down on a small table. Sweat dripped down along the sides of his face, tinged with red. The man had obviously been dancing with the others and the redness in his cheeks made it clear that he'd already had more than a few sips of wine.

"Ah, papa," Sigi said softly. "My fiancé?" She winced in anticipation.

The large man arched a brow as he took a seat near his wife who fussed and fretted as she tried to make sure the man didn't get too worked up over nothing. But he shrugged the full-figured woman off, though his thick fingers reached for hers, lacing through them until they were intertwined. "So, Bolond finally had the balls to ask my little Tsigana..."

Sigi's face blanched, the rosiness of her cheeks giving way to a deathly shade of white. "No, papa, I..." she interrupted, her face showing worry.

"Bolond is a fool," the older woman huffed, swatting her husband lightly against his arm.

The older man shrugged and raked a hand through his mop of dark curls. "He's a fine Romani lad."

"I do not love him, papa. You know this," Sigi went on. She moved to kneel before the large man, resting her golden head against his lap. He gently petted her sunlit hair. "I saw him while in the wood. He's with the circus people."

~~~

Cordelia's hands were shaking as she sat down, her eyes darting back and forth between Filo and Szem. The two of them would be her undoing! As it was, she'd feared the worst...one moment having thought she'd lost one and then in the next moment, the other. It was more than her nerves could handle. Were Filo's predictions true? Would they truly become murderers one day? She could only pray to the gods of old that such a day never happened. The very thought of having to exist in a world where neither of them laughed or lived was more than enough to throw her deep into the depths of despair.

The first drink had burned and the second had made her head spin. Cordelia watched Filo leave in a huff, while Szem remained and Doctor Manuel sipped his tea. She could smell the spiced aroma from where she sat, the alcohol in her veins playing wonders with her senses as the room she was in began to spin. She closed her eyes, clamping them down before opening them wide and trying to focus on the third glass that had been set before her. It was hard to reach for it, her hands tingling with numbness as the warmth from the drinks began to spread throughout her lithe body.

Finally, Cordelia picked up the last glass meant for her. She looked at Szem and tried to smile, but her muscles were betraying her. Why did he seem so far away?

"Szem?" Cordelia mumbled, though she wasn't quite sure if she'd actually spoken. The cool glass pressed against her lips and liquid heat poured down her throat. Breaths steady, her hands fell into her lap and she soon found herself engulfed in darkness.

~~~

He watched her. Barker Clive watched her. Then again, he watched everyone. He knew everything about Doctor Manuel's Circus. It was how he knew exactly what to say to draw the crowds, to lure them in, to make them eager for more. He was good at his trade. Too good. But for all that he knew, she still had him and most of the troupe fooled, but that was as she wanted it, as she needed it.

It hadn't been easy growing up in a family that lived for the stage. Ava's mother had always had high hopes for both she and her brother, always fawning and pushing. They'd been the children of renowned trapeze artists, their fame following them everywhere that they'd traveled. Their mother had been a spectacular beauty, the gem of the circus and adored by all. But their father had grown bored, even with a beautiful wife. He'd found pleasures in the beds of others and had no time for the children that were his. So their mother put on a mask and engaged in the most well played game Ava had ever beheld. But the woman focused everything she had on her most prized possessions—her children.

Ava took to the air like fish take to water. So did her brother. Their natural flair took them far. But it wasn't enough to tame their father. The training was relentless, merciless, seeming without end as they swung on trapeze and even learned the wire. Soon, they'd become the most coveted duo in the world once they finally took stage!

A shiver ran down Ava's spine as she recalled the accident. But, she knew the horrible truth of it all. Her mother never missed and...there was never a net. She and Albert left immediately, there was no way she could remain where she'd been. By stroke of luck, she'd seen a banner posted by Doctor Manuel, a businessman and doctor ready to go on the road with a rabble of performers he'd hired only two towns prior. It was an opportunity to start over, to leave behind their old name. They were Starling no more, but Sparrow to the crowds who'd eventually grow to love them.

Blinking her dark eyes, Ava looked at Clive. He was an enigmatic man. Just how deep did his secrets go? Did he wear masks and play games? She couldn't help but wonder as she watched him retrieve his coins, but let her own remain on the table. Untouched. Unable to help herself, she smiled, his words reaching their way inside and making her feel warm, almost safe.

"Dear jibber-jabber," Ava said softly, her eyes finding Clive's. "Just knowing you'd catch me earns you a smile." She took a bite of bread and swallowed it down and made no attempt to retrieve the five coin still sitting on the table between them. "And if you've no interest in winnings from my tears, then might I ask what does interest you?" Her eyes never left his as she reached for her coffee and sipped.

~~~

Elspeth was enjoying her walk with Roald and the easy way they were able to talk. For the first time in a long time, she felt noticed, seen. She cherished each moment and wondered if she knew just how much it meant to her. Her lips turned up into tiny smiles and then soft bits of laughter burst forth as he went on about his entourage. It made them seem less frightening knowing their secrets and it was even nicer hearing them from the funny man as he bared himself before her...no paint, no masks.

When they reached the small stream, Elspeth was happy to sit down next to Roald and let the moment linger. She wasn't ready to head back to her little sanctuary now that she was in this man's company. He had a way of drawing her out into the open, making her less afraid of the world. She smiled as his arm moved about her, pulling her close enough so that she could feel his warmth. It was welcoming and wanted and she couldn't help but inch closer.

Stifling the cough that threatened to erupt, Elspeth covered her mouth and cleared her throat. "Well?" she stated more than asked. Her expression went distant and she reached up to tug on a strand of auburn. "I've heard that Ichor is the newest remedy," she said softly, her eyes looking into Roald's. "But..." her voice trailed and she frowned. "It's more money than you or I or even Doctor Manuel is able to afford." She smiled weakly, resigned to the fact that there was no way she'd ever be able to purchase such medicine. Only the wealthy were able to get their hands on it far as she knew and, even then, they'd need to be fortunate enough to know the right people. Shaking her head, she tried to blink back the tears she felt forming in her eyes. "But it's all right. I've had a full life, a happy one." She inched closer still. "B-because of you, it's all I could...all I could ever hope for."

~~~

Morgaine pecked at the buttons, making them jingle. Her soft croaks caused Cassidy to giggle softly, breaking the tension slightly as she looked deeply into Mairon's eyes.

"Indeed," Cassidy answered, though she could still feel the heat of Mairon's kiss lingering on the tip of her finger. "I'm full of surprises, oh great one." She gave him a look mixed with admiration as well as something else. "Though first, as your apprentice, I should wonder what my first lesson would cover exactly?"

At that, Cassidy handed Mairon a small handful of coins, dropping them one by one into his open palm. The moment he had them all, she winked playfully. Morgaine just fluttered her wings with approval.

~~~

Felicity felt herself start a little when she heard the voice, but the tone and manner was enough to immediately set her at ease. She smiled sweetly, though she was unable to see her therapist's—or, the assistant's—face. But, she could already tell, he was of agreeable disposition. She wondered what manner of man would pursue such scientific research. He called himself a handyman, a tinkerer. Surely, he was just being modest. From the look of the tent and the amount of money being spent, she knew his knowledge far surpassed anyone else who dared venture into this field of study. Perhaps he hadn't practiced the experiments first hand, but his theoretical knowledge had to be excellent. Why else would the Doctor and Miss Lucas have him here...with her...?

"My name is Felicity," Felicity said softly, nervously. "Pleasure to meet you, Cal."

Taking a deep breath, Felicity lied down upon the robe she'd shimmied off her body. The air was cool in the tent, but not freezing. She swung her legs up onto the cot and moved them underneath the curtain. Cal—he said to call him Cal—was right, pretending the curtain was 'nighttime' helped. She smiled as she positioned her legs out straight, waiting for Cal to manipulate them as needed. Rhianna had seen to her bath, had made sure she'd been cleaned and well groomed. There was nothing to fear or be modest over. Besides, Cal said he'd be slow and that, no doubt, meant he'd be gentle. She'd trust him. This was for science, the good of women. Miss Lucas said to relax and enjoy the experiments.

She could do this. She could.

"I...I'm ready," Felicity whispered.

It wouldn't be chasing the gold hair girl just to take a walk. Albert paced in front of his trailer, and peeked around the corner at the stand of trees every few moments. He just wanted to take a walk and the best place for a walk was out across the field. It was the only way to go, really. He would have been mad to go in any other direction. He set out across the field, watching for any sign of the girl, fully convinced that the proper thing to do, were she to appear, would be to make an about-face and head straight back to his trailer. He wasn't some mindless predator, helpless but to follow retreating prey. He was a man, damn it! Not an animal.

The black velvet robe did give him the idea that if he were an animal, he would be a jaguar, black, sleek, silent. He would be mysterious, supple, lithe, dangerous. Women would touch his pelt just for the thrill of his beauty, attracted to his danger.

These thoughts chased around in his head and he hardly stopped at the edge of the river, but sprung across a few scattered boulders in the stream and stood on the other side. She had been standing just here by the white bark tree. He turned and saw his trailer, the low stool he had sat upon. She would have had an excellent view of him from here. An altogether perfect place from which to admire him.

A branch broke behind him, and not a small one.

----

Ava's smile brightened her haunted face, it seemed to brighten even the dark corners of the trailer. Clive felt his own face spreading a wide grin. He relished a bite of the sweet preserve, the fresh bread. His mouth was full when Ava asked him her question. What interested him?

Well, she did. Ava who flew so high above his station, he couldn't look at her but the sun dazzled him. At least he thought it was the sun.

"Well, it's not people's secrets. Most of those you can guess by sniffing the wind, and they're tedious small things. Hardly worth hiding. It's so strange the work and coin people will spend to hide what's plain as day."

He paused. He wasn't answering her question. "I jabber, my Lady, so I don't have to answer questions that are hard answering."

He thought of taking another bite of bread. He couldn't be expected to answer with his mouth full, but he put the bread down. "You, my Lady. I'm interested in you. Fascinated, is more the word. A beautiful woman alone when she could have any man at all. A woman sad when she is at the top, who weeps when no one is watching. How can I catch you, Ava, with such heavy mysteries about you?"

----

The Doctor took a slow sip of tea and watched Cordelia pass out. "She's going to be fine for now. How's your head, Szem? Bleeding stopped?"

Szem checked the back of his head tenderly with his fingers. It hurt like the underworld, but he only winced. "Bleeding's gone," he said.

Doctor Manuel nodded. "How's your eyesight?"

Szem closed one eye, then the other. "All's sharp and crisp, Doctor."

That was a relief. "Well then, please be so kind as to show Cordelia to her trailer. She'll need a comfortable sleep and a headache draught when she wakes."

Szem nodded and draped Cordelia's sleeping form over his shoulder.

"Sangre de la virgen," she muttered, "Tanto peligro... atame, atame."

Szem carried her down the line, wishing he had thought to whisk her up like Filo while she was alert and squealing with delight. His ear brushed her hip, though, and set his mind to thinking about her softness, the swells and narrows of her, the sound of her voice, low and foreign. She had said his name as her eyes closed and he hoped if she dreamed, that he would be with her. He swung up the step to her trailer and pushed open the door.

The doctor had said to make her comfortable, so he pulled her shoes off, and let his hands linger on her stockinged toes. There weren't more beautiful feet in the land, he thought, or calves so shapely. He let his fingers trail along the curve of her leg. The corset looked awfully uncomfortable, so on the Doctor's advice, he loosened the laces, pulled the whalebone shell away from Cordelia's shapely form.

-----

Filo bound his ear, using the shard of mirror in his trailer, and sipped a tiny glass of bluish clear liquid carefully. The bottle had come from home, and he only used it for special occasions. Today he had kissed his beguiling Cordelia, most surely a cause for celebration. She would be drowsy now, maybe asleep in the Doctor's trailer. The Doctor would be there, of course, and Szem. He stared at himself in the mirror, then swore. He was out and running toward Cordelia's red trailer as fast as he could make his feet move.

He burst into her trailer, yelling, "Hands off, you fumbleton..." but Szem sat away from the sleeping Cordelia, arms crossed innocently over his chest.

"Your opinion of me is much mistaken if you think I would in any way dishonor the person of my beloved when she was incapable of appreciating the warmth of my devotion."

"You're a pompous ass," Filo said, hiding his relief.

"You're a sagging lout," Szem said, shrugging. He stood and passed Filo as he moved toward the door. "We were friends before our Spaniard, yes?"

Filo nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, but I would have knifed you if your hands were straying."

Szem held up his hands and slipped out the door. The quiet, brief caress of Cordelia's remarkable breast burned across his palm and his heart nearly burst with the thrill of it.

----

Roald held Elspeth tight. He couldn't imagine the breath leaving her body when she had to work so hard to keep it. It wouldn't be fair. He reached over and brushed a tear off her cheek.

"Ichor," Roald repeated. It sounded awful. "How can something with such a vile name be a healer?" But he knew. His mother had had to choke down pungent black pitch to purify her liver. It turned her tongue black and stained her lips but it all came to nothing. Before he and his brothers nailed down the lid on her casket, they had kissed her, but only on the cheek. Her mouth looked like the gates of a demon hole.

"I've little faith in doctors," he said, "Our own looks fine in white, and he's a fine businessman and a showman in his own way, but he's no healer. Others I've known have been less effectual. I'm a clown, though, and an idle strummer. I know only enough of the world to make gentlefolk laugh. Maybe there's a one out there that knows how to brew this Ichor. If I could buy it with songs, I would play until my fingers bled. You're a treasure, Elspeth. Wise clowns keep treasures safe."

There were people he could talk to, though, and he could find others. He laid back on the grassy bank and smoothed Elspeth's fiery hair with his fingers, her head on his shoulder.

"You're a treasure, Elspeth."

----

Mairon laughed. "I'm going to need to sew my coin into my clothes to keep your pretty fingers off it!" He rolled the coins around in his hand, considering.

"I've never heard of a thief that could steal an eaten snack though." He popped the coins in his mouth, made a show of swallowing them. Then he pulled Cassidy's pretty dagger out of his sleeve and handed it her. "If you can get those coins, you can have them." He smiled at her and held his jacket open, inviting her to slice him open.

"I'll tell you what I would teach you, Lady Lightfingers. You're a right sneak thief, but this is the carnival. I'll teach you showmanship. There are only two ways out of a stomach without slicing it open." He tapped his mouth, then he tapped his bottom.

He took a bowl from the table and held it behind himself. He pretended to strain, and the coins dropped noisily into the bowl. He set it on the table and raised an eyebrow.

"You'll think twice about touching those, now, although they'll still buy a pot of ale in a city pub. Would you care to test the drink of Kaland with me?"

----

"Felicity," Callum said, "there's a fortunate name." He covered her right foot with his hands, pressed his thumbs gently into the muscle next to the ball. This wasn't in the book, but it seemed a good way to relax.

"Do you always smell of flowers, Felicity? Or is it just today?" He kneaded her foot, her heel, her calf, then switched to the other side. The doctor had a row of bottles with various ointments and oils, but that didn't seem necessary. He caressed her at first to help her relax, but he found he just loved the feel of her skin, the smooth warm, the life in each tiny movement of her toes. He was pleasantly aroused and he just let himself enjoy it. She had a careful triangle of hair covering her sex and he gazed at her there as he ran his palms slowly, warmly up her thighs and down their backs, the pads of his fingers digging in a little.

He gently pulled her left knee up and placed her foot on the cot, the first thing the book had said to do. Then he raised her other knee.

"You have a flower, Felicity," he said, and heard something in his voice he was not accustomed to. It was wonder. "You're opening up like a day flower in the morning."

The diagrams, he saw now, had been crude caricatures of a woman's sex. What his eyes beheld now was nothing less than beautiful. He covered her with his hand, felt what was most startlingly like a warm kiss on his palm. He ran his fingers gently over her. He reached for a clear, thin oil.

"Am I gentle enough? I'm ready to go to the next step if you are."

"So, you're the one? You?" the dark-haired man scoffed, loose curls framing his chiseled face. He wiped a large hand across dark eyes, slightly narrowed as he stared at the man wearing black velvet. He kicked at the branch he'd just stepped on. "I've seen your banner...Albert Sparrow." He tilted his head and laughed heartily. "Albert Sparrow. What kind of name is that anyway?" He leaned forward then and poked Albert. "Not Romani," he added and stepped over the fallen branch barring the way.

"Nor am I," came a sweet voice laced with annoyance. Tsigana stomped toward the pair of men and placed her hands on her hips, her blue eyes fierce and flashing. She appeared irritated as she glared almost angrily at the man stalking her Albert like he was some worthless prey. Her fingers tapped the handle of the gun she had holstered for safe keeping, a part of her angry enough to threaten and aim. "Bolond, if you lay a hand on him..."

Bolond raised his hands in the air in surrender, his eyes looking longingly upon the golden-haired girl. "I would never, Sigi. Never." He hung his head shamefully and took a step back as Sigi moved toward Albert, a smile lighting up her face. Her expression softened immediately as she neared the circus man. How he wished that smile was for him and not the simpleton before him. But the girl was stubborn, hard-headed and it was exactly why he was so desperately in love with her.

Sigi wrapped her arms about Albert's neck and inspected his face—just as flawless up close as it was far away. Indeed, her mama would be pleased and the other girls terribly jealous. She let her fingers trail upward until they wove themselves into his hair—soft, silky...a total mess!

Sigi clucked and giggled, shaking her head as her hands attempted to fix Albert's hair. "We have work to do," she said softly, her body moving close to his. "You'll come with me? Yes?"

Bolond sighed causing Sigi to hiss at him. Immediately, the Romani went quiet, shoving his hands in his pockets. Knowing when he wasn't wanted, he then stalked off grumbling about the difficulties of women.

"Bolond is jealous. Harmless," Sigi spoke, her voice almost a whisper. Slowly, her hands slid down along Albert's body, tiny hands searching for his. When she found them, she gave a small tug, beckoning he follow. "He wants this..." she went on and without a care, she placed Albert's hand against her left breast, pert and firm, the epitome of feminine. A soft sound left her lips and she smiled, eyes closing as she squeezed her hand over his, allowing him a good feel of her assets. When Sigi opened her eyes, she stepped closer. "Can you blame him for envying you?"

~~~

Ava felt her heart skip a beat as she sipped her coffee and set the cup down. Her hands were trembling, her body shaking. Did Clive see through her masks? She wore so many that she wasn't even sure as to whom she was most of the time. The act never ended, not even after the show. It was how it had been, how it had to be and she hated every minute of it. But she'd gotten so used to how things had become that there was also an odd comfort in donning the masks she wore. Sitting there with Clive, peering into eyes that sought to see more yet somehow already did... She had to silently admit that the notion of someone penetrating these carefully crafted masks, seeing through everything had been something she'd hardly considered anyone attempting.

And how she craved that he dig deeper, that he crack each one until she was exposed and vulnerable before him!

Albert was always off gallavanting like some fool—much like their father. He'd be furious if she dared attempt such relations, a means to blow cover and come out of hiding. But why did he get to explore while she had to give everything up? It was hardly fair and she felt so alone. Ava smiled again, her cheeks warming as she reached into her pocket and pulled out the little flower Clive had left outside her trailer the night before. With great care and gentleness, she set it down and let her fingers touch it tenderly.

"Dear jibber-jabber..." Ava began, her voice practically a whisper. "Clive." She looked into his eyes and the soft smile returned to her lips. "A woman has places where she shares her secrets. You of all people must know this." It wasn't an accusation, just a simple truth. "But," she continued, her fingers idly playing with the little flower. "They are also places where women show genuine affection for the ones they truly admire and trust will catch them should they one day fall." It was an admission as much as a plea and she felt her body shake slightly as the words tumbled out. She wanted to trust Clive; she needed to. He was the only one who'd seen through her façade and he was the only one willing and wanting to look deeper. That made him special, more so than he possibly could know.

And damn her brother if any of this made him angry!

~~~

Cordelia could barely make out the muffled sounds of footsteps as she felt her body being gently placed upon something soft and wonderful. Eyes closed, she let her head fall to the side and relish the coolness of the pillow beneath her head, dark hair fanned away from her flushed face. She smiled and muttered incoherently, though she was aware enough to know someone had kindly brought her back to her trailer.

More than anything, Cordelia wanted to nestle deeply within the softness of the blankets beneath her body. She felt gentle hands touching her feet, her legs. They were careful, yet hesitant, in their exploring, but there was an unmistakable eagerness. She tried to open her eyes, only the light was too bright and the room refused to stop moving. No, it was best to keep the eyes closed. She felt the hands move up, propping her up and slowly unlacing the corset that pressed and squeezed. Despite her condition, she knew the moment it gave way, hearing a sharp breath fill the silence of the tiny room and sensing the pause as her body gave way to freedom. The touch was brief—a stolen moment—but there was an obvious brush of flesh against flesh as a hand lightly moved over her breast as she was gently lied back down and the blankets placed snugly about her body.

Turning slightly and nestling deep, Cordelia then heard muffled shouts—so close, yet so far. She knew it was her Szem and her Filo. How she wished she hadn't come between them. She'd heard whispers that the two were close, the best of friends, until she came along and ruined it all. Though the cruelest whispers had come from none other than Astrid and Kenna Castor. Even still, she wondered just how many despised her for disrupting things. It was common knowledge that the Castor twins hated anyone who hindered their chances with those they deemed as targets. Her daredevils easily fell on the promiscuous pairs list. But that hardly meant that others, those who knew her beloveds before her arrival, didn't harbor resentment. She was sure a day would come when Doctor Manuel would tell her to leave. After all, the man wouldn't want to lose either Szem or Filo...and what then?

She hoped such a day would never come.

Cordelia furrowed her brow and moaned. Her head hurt a bit and her mouth was so very dry.

"Water," Cordelia managed, her eyes still closed as she turned beneath the sheets.

~~~

The sun felt warm as it shone down upon them, the gentle babbling of the stream singing its own lullaby. Elspeth curled up close to Roald, relishing the warmth and closeness he was willing to offer, to provide.

Elspeth had never been anyone's treasure, not since her mother and she'd left her when the illness took its hold. Her patrons had made it more than clear that she didn't belong, that she never would. It had been the worst sort of hell to lose the one and only person who'd cared, while the entire world and all its color and happiness drained away before her very eyes. She'd been lost for so long. Trapped in a dizzying labyrinth of beastly scowls and sneers as her patrons scoffed at her position and tried to instill how fortunate she was to have people willing to provide a roof over her head.

Her attic corner had been so cold, so lonely. Elspeth had shivered herself to sleep night after night longing for rescue.

Elspeth wheezed softly as Roald caressed her hair. She smiled and looked up at him, just happy in the rare moment she was sharing with the funny man. Her chest tightened and she turned her head as a fit of coughs seized her body. When she settled, her eyes were watery and her cheeks tinged pink. "Sorry," she said quietly, shyly, her one hand moving to her chest. "I don't have true faith in most people," she went on, remembering the loss of her mother, the abuse of her patrons. "But I've faith in you, in this moment." She turned toward him. "I've never been anyone's treasure." She reached up to touch his face, so different and so beautiful without the paint. "I wouldn't want to be anyone else's."

~~~

Morgaine flapped her wings noisily and let out a shrill caw. She swooped through the tiny space only to land on Mairon's shoulder. Cassidy's jaw had dropped at the little show, her cheeks hot as her thoughts spun wildly, unsure whether to laugh or be shocked. Blinking rapidly, her eyes drifted to the bird now perched on the illusionist, her head held high as she twisted it back and forth between the two.

Cassidy laughed and reached out to pet her companion. Morgaine croaked with approval before fluttering off and taking to the sky.

"Well, she certainly approves," Cassidy stated, a small smile on her lips. She shielded her eyes as she watched the crow fly off into the distance. She knew Morgaine would be back. Looking back at Mairon, she nodded. "I accept your offer." She paused a moment, her expression going thoughtful. "Though we do not use those coins there." She pointed to the ones Mairon had used for his trick and laughed.

In the distance, there was the distinct sound of a crow cawing.

~~~

Cal was more than gentle and, his words, more than soothing. Bared and vulnerable, he made no move to intensify the nervousness already coursing through her veins. Instead, he spoke softly, calmly, making her feel like the most beautiful thing in the stark white tent—even though they were the only two within its confines. Somehow, that didn't matter. The very fact that he went the extra step, took the extra care, made her very glad it was Cal the assistant who was with her rather than the Doctor himself. For reasons unknown, he didn't seem the sort who would be as considerate or as compassionate.

"Normally," Felicity said shyly. "I like lavender." She laughed softly, her skin heating as a flush swept over her skin. "But Rhianna doused me in rose." The blush crept along her neck and across her bared body. She could feel Cal manipulating her legs, spreading them ever so slowly, so carefully.

Every touch by his deft hands had been masterful. Easing out the tension and making the worry slowly ebb into nothing. As her legs spread open and her innermost depths were revealed, she felt hot and that strange ache some dreams instilled began to burn. Would Cal notice? Would he mind? Miss Lucas had said no reaction was wrong.

Did she even mean this?

Felicity bit down on her lower lip and clamped her eyes shut. This was for science. For women. That's all any of this was and ever would be.

"Y-you are," Felicity whispered answering Cal, her anticipation growing by leaps and bounds. "Y-you may proceed."

Albert whirled around at the crack of the branch to see a bulky young man with slow speech, foreign. Albert was pleased, in a professional way, that the big man already knew who he was. The poster stickers were doing their job if every wood-wandering hollow pate knew his name.

Albert was less pleased when the man poked him.

"Look here..." he began, but then the voice of an angel intervened. He spun the tale in his mind even as it was happening. She floated, filled with the light of the sun and the moon and all stars. The woman who was meant, since the beginning of time, to share this night, at least, and perhaps several following nights, with him. She had eyes bluer than a midday sky, skin fairer than the beech bark of the tree where he had first seen her, hair golden, and a single strand of it would buy room and board in any inn for any ten men between swampy Faraviata and Dragoste on the sea. He rescued her, heroically, from the brute Bolond, and her name was... Sigi. The brute said it plain as day as he resigned from the fray.

The story faltered here, the woman Sigi had an uncharacteristically forward manner which was improper, but Albert found the corners of his mouth twitching upward as she ran fingers into his, luxurious, yet admittedly, unkempt hair. She was so close to him and smiling so contagiously, that a foolish grin spread across his face. She wrinkled her nose at him in a most fetching way, then invited him to follow her.

He would follow her to the ends of the earth and sky. The story began to unfold again, luminous in his mind. She was the purest of ladies, the whitest hand, the most innocent of hearts, untouched as the snows in the highest ancient Himalayas.

She pulled his hand to her breast and he wondered what anyone saw in purity anyway. A lusty girl was the one for him. One who would toss her heels to the sky and make a commotion. She asked him a question, and he didn't hear it exactly, but a kiss was always a clever answer to misheard questions. He left his hand on her breast. In fact, he let his hand press and fondle most unabashedly as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers, and she was most delicious with faint spices on her breath, paprika and cloves. He wasn't good with spices, it was ginger maybe, but she was a dish for consuming, not for quibbling about roots and herbs.

"I will follow you, lady Sigi, most beauteous of..."

She took his hand, spun around, and dragged him, stumbling, through the woods toward the smoke and color of the gypsy wagon circle. He was helpless to do anything but follow.

----

Clive gazed at the little gold flower. He had thought never to see it again, stolen by carnival brats or a passing drunk. Ava had found it though, and had known from whose breast it was absent.

"My Lady," he said, "I spin words far and loose, and you know that I profit from secrets." He was unused to sincerity, but he wanted to be as honest as he could for her. "And this is not unknown to all and sundry. So you will not wonder that your words and your trust surprise me. There are few who confide in me willingly. But I will pledge on... on the strength of the latches of my travelling-trunk that I will never be the one to let you fall. Or may my... my..." He swallowed. Oaths were perilous and tricksy. "May my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth if I harm you by speaking or by doing."

Rhianna in her trailer raised her head from crushing leaves in her bowl, her head turned toward Ava and the barker's conversation, though she could not hear his voice. An oath, and a rare one. She thought for a moment, then smiled and went back to crushing leaves.

Clive took the golden flower and spun it twice on its pin, then reached out and pinned it over Ava's breast.

"I speak for all others, but for you, only you, I am silent."

----

"Water," Cordelia said, her accented voice slurred with whiskey. Filo stood, smashed his head on the roof of her trailer and swore under his breath, tears coming out of his eyes. He stepped into the tiny galley and found a tin cup and filled it from her brightly painted water jug. He carried it carefully and sat by her head, but she had closed her eyes again and breathed quiet. He lifted her body so she leaned against him, her head soft on his shoulder. Everything about her was soft. Her hair falling across his neck, her cheek, each lash over her eyes. He was a metal worker, and soft things were things of wonder to him.

She would not open her mouth to the cup though, so he dipped his finger and touched it to her lips. Soft. She touched his finger with her tongue, licked the drops from her lips. Filo did it again, feeling the velvet of her tongue on his rough finger. He held the cup to her lips then and she sipped.

"Come now, my red lady, my heart woman. Drink a little more for Filo, for your man."

She seemed to become more alert at the sound of his voice and drank a little more, but not enough. He needed to speak so she would drink, but he had no clever stories like the clowns or gossips like the barker. He had only plain stories of his own.

"I'll tell you an old story about friends. Brothers in every way except for our sires and mams. He worked wood and I metal. I made chisels and he carved mahogany sculptures with them. He stacked cords of pine and I burned the logs to make blades, cups, buckles, horse-shoes. I made his axe-heads, he made the handles. We two could fashion every bit of a wooden house. But houses are still and boring. We wanted adventures, danger, risk, wine and stronger drink, and mostly women. Pardon my saying, Lady."

Cordelia drank as he spoke. He refilled the cup and held it with one hand and pulled a sharp blade with another. He slid the tip of the blade into the shoulder-seam of Cordelia's white blouse and cut just one thread, then another. Each word he spoke wove a story and unwove Cordelia's clothing stitch by stitch.

"We spent hours on precision, throwing and firing, knives, axes, blade stars, arrows, slingshots, crossbows, rifles. We both could hit any target our eyes could see provided we had the strength to make the weapon fly far enough. My brother favored launching weapons. I loved the simple blades that flash when they fly. We shared everything, and those things we could not share, we divided. And what we could not divide, we abstained from. There were twins once."

Filo had opened Cordelia's sleeve from her neck to her elbow, skillfully, but he could not lie, or even omit a truth.

"Szem and I divided them like all things. The pliable one to him, the ironlike one to me. But they were not like drink or meat... or whores to be shared. They were players of games and they confused us. Set us against each other for a day and a night. We fought, though it was like brothers, and not as enemies. Then we saw their game and we agreed to trade. His for mine, mine for his. It would have ended there. Each of us with their fill, with their conquests, but for you. You appeared in your pretty red trailer, black hair long and shining, and speaking with the remnants of ancient languages hanging in pennants around your words, making them beautiful."

She leaned against him, soft, and he could see each curve, the movement of her breast when she breathed, the sigh at the end of each sip of water. The cloth fell away from the skin of her shoulder and he kissed her warm skin there.

"My love is mine," he said, "and I will neither relinquish it nor share it with another, except it be you."

He filled a third cup of water and set it on the edge of Cordelia's table. "The doctor said water and one other thing. I will off to Rhianna for a headache preparation. When I return, be sure the cup is empty again or I will work my wrath on you." He smiled though, touched her shoulder lightly, and disappeared through the door.

----

Clown Roald touched his hand to Elspeth's back in the midst of her coughing fit. He felt her spine press through her flesh, trying to escape her body, to escape the sickness by the shortest path. An idea began to form. A silly idea, clownlike, unlikely, and bold. He would speak to his fellows. He kissed Elspeth's forehead. He felt sweetness for her. Not the cold lust Mojo's girls engendered, but a honey desire. One for waiting and tasting in bits and licks when time should come for it. Now was time for a show, though, and he was eager to be at it, in front of his audience. He stood and picked Elspeth up off the ground and cradled her like a child as he walked across the grassy field toward the carnival. He sang a lullaby to her, begging her to sleep, but prodding her to laugh as well. The song defeated itself.

He deposited her, smiling on her little trailer porch, the handful of red flowers scattered around her, and left her after kissing her hand, to find his fellows, uncouth and dissipated as they might be, they would become honorable in the service of love.

----

Mojo was already applying his zinc when Roald found him, and he agreed to the plan, but with his painted on frown. Chins was sleeping off a Tribulation Baptist sermon on temperance, but he roused easily, not drunk for once. He embraced Roald. The plan was to his liking.

The three of them stood in their colorful tatters and pristine white faces at the steps of the Lady Stella's double-level house on wheels. It was agreed that Roald would knock and Chins would speak and Mojo would assent by any nonverbal means necessary.

Roald knocked.

A prissy man in a bowler answered. One of her interminable assistants.

"If you please, sir, we have a proposition for the Lady." Chins struggled not to snigger at "proposition." He held his peace valiantly.

The lady appeared in the doorway above them, her clothing fine and shining in the afternoon sun.

"My lady, we are here to sacrifice ourselves for the good of a friend and the girl he wishes to bed."

Roald stomped on his foot.

"The girl he wishes to wed. Begging your pardon, Lady. She will perish of a consumption unless we buy medicines to the value of a thousand coin. He finds her more valuable than such a fortune, though to my eye there are many like her and he could choose a healthy one from among them."

Roald stomped on his foot again.

"But none have her most unusual name, of which he is enamored, so she is the one we must attempt to save by our service so she may service our friend."

Chins stepped away from Roald to keep his feet from bruising further. A silence stretched between the clowns and the Lady. "I can see that we have flummoxed you, Lady. Let me be more direct. We are all three willing to sell our bodies to you for the sum. For whatever naughty dalliances you require, except for Clown Roald here, whose body is yours, but whose startling manhood is reserved for the common girl, with whom he is inexplicably entwined in the snarling tentacles of love."

"Your silence is wise, Lady," Chins said, unbuttoning his large shirt, "You have not yet inspected the wares which command such a fortune. I assure you, no lady has ever had such a harem at her disposal for even double our price. You are guaranteed the dirtiest minds, the depths of degradation, the pleasures of every human protrusion and sphincter, the dizzying heights of carnal ecstasy." Mojo started to unbutton his pants.

----

The walk to town crossed a low bridge and Mairon brushed Cassidy's hand as they crossed. He spoke of old performances, crowds in cities and villages, the times he had nearly been caught in the trick, having his jacket stripped from him and inspected as he desperately chewed and swallowed an ace of hearts. His side throbbed when he gestured with his left hand, and he tucked it in a vest pocket to keep it still.

Morgaine joined them, circling overhead and diving to inspect any white pebble or flashing leaf along the way.

"Here's the game," Mairon said as they crossed into the city, "I'll do lifts. You put them back. Mind you don't return things to the wrong mark."

The pub was dark, perhaps even dangerous. Cassidy stayed by his side, though, and didn't hesitate. In fact, she seemed to grow a span and her face became dangerous. Her dagger's hilt shone in the low lamplight at her hip. Mairon stepped up to the bar between two big farm hands. He handed back two money bags and felt Cassidy's fingers snatch them smoothly and silently from his hand. He smiled.

----

Callum dipped two fingers in the clear oil. It had very little smell at all but it made his fingers feel slightly warm. He touched Felicity's pretty flower, smoothing the oil over her petals, making her shine. Her flesh swelled slightly, and darkened. The book had mentioned this, but had not said how fascinating it would be to watch.

"You're blooming, changing, Felicity," he said. His voice sounded strange to him, strangled with wonder. "Your body is teaching me more than I dreamed. You hide beauties within beauties within beauty."

There was a new spiciness in the air, some new, exciting smell he had never sensed before and it got stronger as he caressed Felicity's sex. He could see her face through the drape, color rising on her cheeks. He felt bad spying though, and sat on the stool next to her, and it seemed right to drape her leg over his shoulder. It gave him excellent access to her vulva, and he stroked, gently at first, then more energetically. There was a center of stimulation marked in the book, circled on a black and white diagram. There was no mistaking it at the place where Felicity's petals met each other. Callum circled the place with his thumb, careful, listening.

"Everything is going very well," he said. "It's just... I didn't expect this to be so pleasant an exercise for me. The Doctor always seems impatient, hurried, but I think I could smooth and flatter your pretty all day."

This was supposed to be the preparatory phase, according to the book, but Callum was content to fondle, circle, stroke for many minutes beyond the recommended time-line. He let his fingers dance over her flesh, slide over and between her folds.

There was a question he needed to ask before he went further, and the answer determined what happened next.

"Felicity," he said, circling her sensitive pearl with a finger, "Are you a maiden?"

Bolond was taking his time as he made his way back to the wagons, his feet dragging and kicking at the odd stone. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he kept his head down like some sad puppy just scolded by his master for having ruined what would be a most delicious dinner. But ah, his Sigi! She had a way of tearing him into pieces, of shredding his heart, yet making him long for more torment. And still she chose that sissy Albert Sparrow, a silly man who fancied himself a star all because he could walk a thin wire. He'd like to see him wield a knife or arrow. He was sure the impudent bastard had no idea how to hunt or provide. Well, he'd learn soon enough if he was going to take his girl to be his wife!

Laughing, Sigi tugged on Albert's hand and pulled him through the brambles and branches until they finally made it to the clearing of wagons. She turned to glance over her shoulder at the lucky man she to whom she was affianced. "Follow more, it's not much further," she beckoned, gesturing toward the wagon in which her parents were eagerly waiting. She knew her mother was ecstatic to meet the man with such skill and poise, the grace of a bird to walk so high. Her father was a bit more reluctant having expected Bolond to pledge his devotion and love.

But Sigi would have none of that even if the foolish Romani made a public declaration. It was probably why Bolond had been biding his time and now it was too late.

"Mama! Oi, mama! Papa!" Sigi cried as she neared the bright wagon that was her home. A plump woman thrust open the door and rushed out, her graying hair thick and free as it fell along her back, legs quickly moving and halting when she approached the happy pair. Sigi just smiled and gave the woman a kiss. "This is Albert, mama."

Just then, a large man tromped through the door, the grimace on his face more than apparent. He glared at Albert and then at Sigi. The golden girl smiled sweetly and batted her eyes. The older woman next to her just huffed and made her way over to the brute of a man. "Don't try and frighten him. Manners."

The man just shrugged and then nodded in Albert's general direction. The woman smiled seeming to be satisfied. "Don't mind him. You'll get used to him. He's not one for small talk."

Sigi just giggled and then turned toward her mother. "Mama, are things ready?" she asked. Her fingers were entwined with Albert's and she held up their linked hands causing the older woman to blush sweetly.

"My darling girl," the woman cooed. "Everything will be ready this evening." She gently touched her daughter's face and then turned toward Albert and sighed happily, almost dreamily. "We are hosting a party in your honor, sir," she teased. "You can thank your Sigi."

Sigi just blushed and pulled Albert's arms about her waist. In the distance, Bolond just looked on, sorrow filling his heart.

~~~

His words were magic, the sweetest thing she'd ever hoped to hear. Ava glanced down at the pin she donned and she knew she'd always treasure it, wearing it proudly, fondly. She wondered if Clive knew exactly what it meant to her now that she wore his trinket so boldly for all to see. It was a far cry from keeping it tucked away in her pocket and stealing secret glimpses when hidden away in her trailer. No doubt there'd be chatter later when others saw her wearing it, but she hardly cared.

Let them talk. She welcomed it.

Smiling, Ava reached out her hand. Her fingers trembled with hesitance as they sought out the warmth of Clive's touch. When they barely brushed against his fingertips, she edged closer still and let out a small breath.

"And I might walk high in the sky, but the only face I long to see when I look down is yours," Ava then spoke, her other hand idly twisting her coffee cup as it sat on the table. "No other onlooker matters save the one I know who will catch me." She dared to let her fingers entwine with Clive's. "For it's he who is favored and he whom I trust. No one else matters."

~~~

The water was cool and it slowed the burn as it dripped down Cordelia's throat. She was glad of the refreshing drink, though if only her lips would completely comply. It would certainly make the entire process that much easier. Thankfully, she had Filo there to attend to her needs.

Filo...Szem. If not one, there was always the other. One of her beloveds was always there to see to her needs, to ensure her wellbeing and safety. If only she'd been so fortunate earlier in life, but that hadn't meant to be. However, she'd been lucky to find them when she had, to see them showing off to the crowds and being brazen enough to speak up and reach out. Never had she expected them to reach back. Both men were honorable, loyal and they adored every single thing about her. Her head lolling from side to side, she listened intently to Filo's tale about two brothers, two men who loved each other, but were then tested the moment that one thing entered their life, that one thing that could not be shared...

Her.

Cordelia felt her insides twist, her blood boiling heat as Filo spun the tale about himself and Szem. If she'd been able, she'd have stood up and run out of the tiny room to get some air. But she was limp due to the whiskey. Alcohol coursing through her veins, rendering her helpless to move any more than Filo was able to manipulate her nearly slumbering body as she rested against him. He made short work of getting her situated and lying her down, her thoughts buzzing and wild...oh, she was hardly being fair to either of them!

Her heart hurt, aching terribly that she'd forever ruined the bond the two men had once held and forever would.

But another part, a darker part, was thrilled to know she stirred up such passion, such longing. It only made her love them more.

When Filo left for Rhianna's tiny trailer, Cordelia turned slightly and felt the warmth of her tears dampen her cheeks along with the pillow she rested her head against. She feared the future now more than ever. Filo had warned that she'd make one of them a murderer, but truth be told, she'd already murdered them both.

~~~

Stella's blue eyes went wide as she listened and watched the three men—no clowns—standing before her. They barged into her grand traveling home without so much as a care and blathered on about some whither strumpet named Elspeth. She recalled the name as Doctor Manuel had used it a time or two. She was the man's seamstress, apparently a fine asset to this little rabble she'd invested in and therefore a commodity she couldn't afford to lose. She watched with silent, inward amusement as the three bantered and offered, two of them preparing to strip themselves down!

"Gentlemen, gentlemen!" Stella began, the corner of her lips upturned into a half smile. "Have a care for your investor," she admonished and she swatted at the taller clown working at his pants. She then clucked at the large clown and pretended to dust off his shoulders and then fix his collar. "And what would the others say?" Her smile broadened and she turned toward the one calling himself Roald, her hands smoothing out the rumples in her satin skirt all the while. "If it pleases you, your miss is of value to me." Again, she swatted at the two clowns ready to bare and offer.

Stella just giggled and walked toward Roald.

"And I can appreciate a man putting forth his all for something he desires." Stella's eyes glittered like shimmering jewels. "But honestly..." she continued, her voice laced with disdain, and then gestured toward Roald's entourage. Unable to help herself, she began to laugh, her hands moving to grasp at her tummy as she nearly barreled over with laughter. "Dear me, you know nothing of my tastes! Come now," she meandered toward a table where a small purse encrusted with red jewels was set. It, alone, was worth a fortune. She picked it up and opened it, pulling out a small bag jingling with coin. Holding out the bag, she handed it over to the man claiming to be in need. "I trust this is what you came for."

Stella eyed Roald and then his two counterparts. She shook her head and giggled softly.

"I, good sirs, am in need of champagne." Stella gave each clown a knowing look and clapped her hands. Immediately they were in the company of one of Stella's servants, tray already in hand, and the man clearly in the know of the young girl's tastes. She gave her servant a nod of thanks as he poured her champagne in one of the crystal flutes. "And our guests," she prompted, causing the servant to grin sheepishly, a sheen of sweat forming along his brow.

The servant held out the champagne, offering it to the three men standing before Stella. The young girl beamed as she looked upon the dazzling three, painted and ready for their show...and what a performance they'd already given! She'd been wise to invest in such a carnival!

"To seizing the day! Carpe Diem!" Stella exclaimed.

~~~

It had been a long time since Cassidy had enjoyed the company of anyone. Morgaine had been her only companion since she'd found herself alone on the streets, the magnificent bird somehow knowing she needed a friend and...how long were crows supposed to live? She had to wonder, but she was glad for Morgaine's presence, her uncanny ability to somehow know and understand, to always be there at just the right moments. It was as if someone or something was watching out for her and she was forever grateful for whatever it might be. She didn't consider herself a religious person or even one who was spiritual, but having Morgaine was a blessing and she'd never take it for granted for as long as she was alive and would accept the gift graciously and humbly.

Once they'd reached the pub, Cassie's mind humming with old stories and glimpses into Mairon's childhood—she wondered if he'd find hers as interesting—she listened intently to his instructions. The rules were simple enough, child's play. She could do this in her sleep. Picking pockets and cutting purses was something she'd done in Dragoste ever since she'd been a child. She'd had no choice. It was a means of survival. She recalled how frightened she was the first time she'd attempted it, choosing targets carefully and always picking those who were dim or too preoccupied to notice her standing there. When she'd gotten good at that and her confidence grown, she'd gotten bolder and went through a time when she'd been arrogant and almost paid for her crimes. It was then that she realized stealing wasn't and shouldn't be a game. She'd fallen prey to her talents, nearly lost herself in the moment. Fortunately, she remembered her beginnings, how her life had begun and it was then that she refused to take more than was necessary.

Cassidy watched Mairon work the small crowd of the pub, though he seemed to favor one side over the other. Something was wrong. It was obvious. But for now...the game. She snatched the money bag from his hand and gave him a coy smile, a hand moving to brush her dark hair from her eyes. She gave him a wink and moved through the crowd, easily finding the person from whom he'd lifted it.

Child's play.

It was just like her early days back in Dragoste.

Once the purse was set right and Cassidy turned to head back toward Mairon, the farm hand twisted and looked down at her. His large hand reached down and gripped her shoulder firmly. "Aye, a lady eyeing me," he grumbled, words slurred from perhaps one too many. "You know what they say 'bout that?" he went on.

The other farm hand squinted and rubbed a hand through his mussed hair, shaking his head stupidly. "No. Not really," he said as though trying to think on the question a bit more.

The other man just sighed, his hand still holding on to Cassidy. "Means one of two things. Ain't that right, lady?"

Cassidy felt her heart begin to race. She'd been so careful! She knew he couldn't have felt her put the money back! Yet, there he was looking at her, ready to accuse! Her face felt hot and her mouth was as dry as desert. "Not sure what you mean," she managed.

The farmhand just laughed, his fingers squeezing Cassie's shoulder hard. "I'm sure," he stated. "But I'll oblige. It means either you're a whore or..." his voice trailed and he nudged his friend with an elbow. "You want me to buy you a round."

~~~

His fingers were light as they touched and explored, his words sweeter than she'd ever have expected from a man of science. Felicity felt herself blushing as she stared up at the black curtain, her eyes fixed on some random spot she imagined Cal's face might be. Her breath caught in her throat, her green eyes blinking as the ache between her legs began to slow grow.

"Bl-blooming?" Felicity muttered, her thoughts suddenly difficult to put together. Cal's touches were more like teases the more he fondled and prodded. If these were the experiments that needed to be done, she wouldn't mind this man touching her all day. There was a kindness and care, an appreciation in what he did and how. Never had she felt more beautiful and precious, like something worth exploring and understanding. Her breaths began to quicken slightly as she felt Cal's fingers make small circles on an especially sensitive spot. She felt the urge to moan, but held back despite Miss Lucas assuring her that any and all reactions were all right and nothing to be ashamed of.

Gasping, panting, Felicity could feel her legs quivering slightly. Tiny little muscle spasms, while the opening between her legs suddenly began seethe. The feeling was strange, yet welcome and how it made her heart race!

"I...I'm glad it's going well," Felicity panted, her words breathy and short. "I...I rather like...your experiments," she admitted, her blush deepening and spreading all over her skin. She felt a slickness form between her legs. Was that natural? Oh, she wanted Cal to explore more, to touch, to feel! A part of her almost wanted to cry she was longing for him to test more. "I...yes...I am," she then admitted when he asked if she was a maiden. "W-will that ruin these experiments?" she asked, her thoughts suddenly running wild with fear. "I...I hope not." The very idea that her time with Cal, in forging a path in the scientific arena, of never feeling these things again! It was unacceptable and it terrified her. "P-please say it won't," she begged, her hips lifting slightly to Cal's touch as his finger continued to test and tease.

Albert couldn't believe his luck. Sigi took no convincing at all. A heated kiss in the woods and now she was dragging him straight to her trailer to have her way with him. She was so eager, he wanted to show her he was eager too. He was just about to curl his fingers around her little round bottom when she called her mother and father out. He jerked his hand away, ran it through his hair, checked his mustache.

Sigi's mother ran out of their trailer, arms wide like she was welcoming a son home from war. Albert's mouth opened, then closed. Gypsies were mysterious and strange. Maybe the gypsy girls always introduced their beaus to their parents before they...

Her father was huge. A mass of a man, and dour. Sigi's mother went to him, Albert hoped, to keep the big man from smashing him. Whatever she said, he shrugged and nodded.

Sigi's fingers fit perfectly between Albert's almost like it was a sign they were meant to share a bed. And where was this bed? He had thought it would be in the trailer that Sigi's mother had come from, and now he didn't know where she would take him. He smiled at the older woman. His charms worked on women of all ages, and he was pleased to see her face light up.

"We are hosting a party in your honor, sir."

Albert smiled genuinely then, his teeth flashing white. This was more like it! A party for him. What a brilliant idea! He was surprised he hadn't ever thought of doing it himself. Although he would have had to get Ava to do it for him. It wouldn't look proper to throw himself a party in his own honor. But these strangers were so in awe of his skill and reputation that they wanted to celebrate it. And who was he to stop them?

Sigi pulled his arms around her waist, and he leaned down to kiss her ear. "I can hardly wait to throw you down on a bed and taste your pleasures," he whispered in her ear, and kissed it again.

----

Barker Clive felt his heart grow to the size of his head with his hat included. Ava's fingers entwined with his and her confession of trust surprised and terrified him. He was in uncharted waters.

"My lady, you are my only fascination, but I confess I am out of my depth. You are a lady, and I am only a clever jabberjaw who was a runaway who was a fruit picker. The girls of my station expect little wooing and get even less. And none of us even dream of the attentions of one such as yourself- beautiful beyond reason, courteous beyond need, sad beyond understanding. Ava," he said her name boldly, and loved the sound of it on his voice, "I want to seize on you as you deserve, but I don't know the way of it."

He pushed his hat on her neat table and pulled it back. Her fingers were interlocked with his, a miraculous thing, impossible, yet welcome. More than welcome. He did something that would have gotten him scoffed and cuffed about the ears at the crossroads. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it deliberately, without a single shade or hint of jest. He was no fine gentleman, but his lady deserved his best effort. He would endure whatever wit-cracking would come his way. He was more than a match for any speaking bout. A crossroads girl would be half out of her clothes by now, and thirty minutes later would be his sworn enemy along with her sisters and cousins if she had them. He was used to tempests and posturing. This careful, open talk terrified and excited him as much as the deep black of Ava's eyes excited him. He had not ever thought he would have anyone trust him, and he knew he would have to learn to trust in return.

"If I could do anything else to deserve you, Lady, any favor, I would do it."

He would die for her, he realized, if it came to it, and the thought did not frighten him.

----

Szem came back to Cordelia's trailer fully expecting to find Filo trying to work his way further into her affections, but he found her alone. The bastard had managed to work his way further into her blouse, though. Her shoulder was bare and beautiful, her arm the color of caramel apples. At least he could be grateful to his rival for that.

"Hello, my little apple," he said, and set a small green bottle on the table. "I have a remedy for your head. My mother's doctor brewed this physic of featherfew and coriander seed. The first for soothing pain, the second to bring a smile to your face." The boys in his town had made much of coriander's amorous effects on women, but the claim was never proved. Still, a little seed couldn't hurt. There was an empty tin cup on the table and he poured her a draft of the medicine.

He sat close to her, pulled her feet up on to his lap and took out a wooden disc the width of his hand and a knife. He wanted more than anything to explore Cordelia's legs with his fingers, but he felt mildly guilty for stealing a touch without her consent, and he needed to keep his hands busy. He measured her ankle with his fingers, then began to whittle, dropping smooth curls of wood carefully into his handkerchief so as not to mess her home.

"We were never alike," Szem said as he carved, "Filo and I although we were once friends, we were always different. He had hard arms from hammering, but I was always more philosophical. He acted and I pondered. He loves dead iron, and I love you. And if I seem to love wood, it is because it reminds me of you. Smooth and sharp, soft, firm, plentiful." He let the hand with the knife rest on her thigh for a moment.

"And yes, we shared all things, even... even our meals when food was scarce. We have kept each other warm when nights were killing cold. But I shared because there was nothing precious enough to claim for my own. Food can be found in the morning, and money can be made and lost from one breath to the next. There is no call to fight over such plain things. But you are a rare and beautiful ruby, Cordelia, You can only belong to one man, and I will belong to you when your heart settles. We will be such lovers as musicians will write songs about for generations. Minstrels will sing the fame of our love in courts abroad, and in languages which we have never heard."

Filo stood in the door, a small bottle dangling from his hand. "In Pig-Latin, I am sure, and Shuddermouth, and Mudstutter. You always sneak in while I am away, which speaks of your dishonesty. You are inconstant and cowardly, Szem, though you were not always so. I remember when you could tell a lady's liking from a thousand yards away."

----

Stella swatted Mojo and Roald followed suit, laughing. "Button up, Mojo, the Lady's speaking!"

Mojo stopped, confused and looked around the room. The Lady had a raised eyebrow and tight lips.

"Chins?" he whispered, too loudly, his fingers still on his fly, "Does this mean that we don't get to degrade ourselves?"

Chins shook his head sadly. He put his arm around the other clown. "I'm afraid the Lady has tastes for which we are not the spice. Perhaps she prefers more delicate fare."

Mojo sighed and buttoned himself up again. "Maybe she'd like a contortionist? Did you know, Lady, that a contortionist can cure her own hysteria with her... Ow!"

Roald slapped Mojo's hat off. "Silence, man. Can't you see she's laughing at us?"

Chins sighed. "Well, we are clowns. The finest in every village where we have not set foot."

Roald's smile changed, though, when the Lady Stella laid the little velvet bag in his hand. It was heavy. Gold. The jest was just a desperate gamble, but she just handed over a year's wages like it was copper coin for a pair of quail eggs at the market. Elspeth would be saved if he could find a trusty doctor.

"He only had to ask?" Chins said, staring at the little bag. "Because there's a very fine and delicate lady at the north end of town- I met her at church- and I am wasting away with desire for her. She has a heaving bosom, you see, of which I am a most dedicated student. I am skin and bones with longing and I may perish with it. So, if you value my contributions to the welfare of our little company, you can surely see that it is in the interests of all and sundry to contribute to my efforts to deflower the lady in all haste. Thirty coin would be sufficient."

"I want a girl that tie herself in a bow and make a gift out of me," Mojo said, since all were speaking frankly.

Roald took the offered champagne and saw the edge of the flute wrinkle with an unexpected tear in his eye. His treasure would be saved. He dabbed the tear quick and light though to keep from smearing his face. "Thank you, Lady. I cannot repay your kindness." He tapped the edge of the crystal to the Lady's and repeated after her, "Carpe Diem!" He turned to Chins, who had just delicately drained his bubbly wine in a single draught. "Leave us, friend, and thank you for your unselfish sacrifice." He said it with a wide smile though.

"My Lady, there is one more favor I would ask. I would find the best physician in Kaland for Elspeth, but appearing as I do, I would find only greedy quacks. Will you inquire among the fine folk of this town in the coming days to discern which doctor will not waste your generosity?"

----

Roald strolled toward Elspeth's trailer, his melancholy paint belied by his immense smile. He could hardly breathe with the joy of it. He heard Rhianna humming as he passed by, and thought to ask her a question. He knocked at her door.

The soothsayer called out from inside, "Don't go to the smooth faced man. The marked man is your hope." She cracked her door and stuck her arm through, a tiny purple bottle in her fingers. "For sniffing, not drinking," she said. There was a pause, then the door opened completely and the little fiery girl pointed at him. "And no tumbling a girl who can't breathe or I'll put your stones on a necklace."

----

Mairon observed Cassidy with mounting astonishment. She was next thing to a true magician, soft fingers, so quick he couldn't see her move. She seemed to be able to perceive where all the eyes in the room were looking, and block the one sliver of view she needed to reattach a bag unseen.

"You want me to buy you a round." The boy looked like a hay bale himself, round shouldered and tall.

Mairon wondered how many times he had used this rhetorical trap. If she refused then she was a whore, if she accepted, then she was indebted to him. He grudgingly admired the blunt force of the approach. He wondered what Cassidy's answer would be. He was increasingly convinced that she did not need him to help her, but he lifted the man's moneybag a second time, and filled it with peanuts from a bowl on the bar. He put the man's coin where the peanuts had been, then sat at a table behind Cassidy where he could watch her work, and where he could admire her form, if he was honest with himself.

----

Callum circled, reversed, fanned his fingers, watched Felicity's sex twitch and moisten as he fluttered her flesh. He was hard in his pants, desperately, and he squeezed himself with his other hand, trying to make his manhood behave, but it seemed to make things worse. He didn't want to be distracted from his play. It was work, he reminded himself, but the Doctor didn't pay him to be miserable, so what was the harm?

"Oh no, it won't ruin the experiments," Callum said, hearing a note of anxiety in her voice, and he answered as calmly as he could, although his own excitement was becoming hard to ignore. "At least not all of them. Some of the more advanced techniques require the maidenhead be broken." He sped his pace a little, pressing his fingers against her harder and he saw her hips rise to meet his pressure. "If it becomes necessary, perhaps the Doctor will find another assistant for those elements of our work. You need not worry yourself about it."

"I am still learning the first steps, though, and I will confess to you. I have become very... very excited myself in a most strange way. I hardly know how to describe it. I feel as though something will burst, that the very crisis we are attempting to bring about in you is happening to me as well. The book made no mention of this, and I wonder if I am making some error. The book said that you would likely hum or moan or cry out, but you have only spoken very clearly. Perhaps this is because you are not a sufferer of the hysterical malady which we are attempting to cure, but... but I will stop if you want the opinion of the Doctor before we continue."

He did not stop though. He didn't know if he would be able to if she asked him, but he moved his fingers faster, noting the twitches and flexing of Felicity's thighs, the delicious rise and fall of her smooth stomach. He placed his other hand there to feel her breathing, to feel her skin, the way her muscles responded to the firm drumming of his fingers. The spice in the air made him drunk and he felt his skin flush. A most powerful sensation threatened to explode within him. He felt as though he was about to be carried away, to be left senseless by some honeyed monster inside. He had to stay with Felicity, though, he told himself it was his duty, but it was beyond duty. It was his pleasure, his obsession, to...

He was powerless to stop it. He grabbed his crotch and the world opened up and swallowed him. His calves tightened, the muscles of his stomach froze hard and he shook. Then spasms overtook him. He felt a strange moist warmth spread in his pants, and he wondered if he was bleeding, but could not care as his mind filled with light, with such luminous pleasure he was left gasping for breath.

He opened his eyes, aware that his hand was a fist pressing against Felicity's tender flower. He breathed again, and started his ministrations in earnest, hoping that his strange, wonderful seizure had not spoiled the important work they were engaged with.

"Oh Felicity," he said, "a wonderful thing has happened to me. I hope it will happen to you. I've seen such colors. Such colors."

A coy look washed over Sigi's face as she pulled away and rubbed her nose lightly against Albert's. "Soon, my love," she laughed, her golden hair spilling down her back and blowing with the breeze that moved through the yard in front her family's wagon. She fluttered her lashes as she peered up into his eyes. Her cheeks turning a nice healthy pink as she leaned forward and nipped at his ear, those tiny teeth giving the lobe a good tug before finally letting it go.

Sigi could hear her father grumbling over her brazen actions, while her mother fussed and fretted. She loved that she was agitating the big brute, though she knew he was secretly elated to see her so happy and in love. Of course, her father had hoped that she'd find a match with Bolond. The whole clan had hoped it, constantly finding ways to push them together. But deep down, she knew the fool was not for her and never was. She wanted more, something bigger, better, brighter! She glanced at her father, that familiar gleam in his eye. Yes, the man accepted her Albert even if he wasn't showing it straight off and this would only make the evening's festivities that much grander.

This was the event of a lifetime! The dream of every girl and she would now be the envy of all!

Sigi wondered if Bolond would oblige her a dance. After all, it would only be courteous given everything and she hoped he'd also seek audience with her beloved. It was her wish that the two became friends. Albert knew nothing of the Romani way and was in sore need of a friend and confidante and someone who wasn't her father. And what better friend than Bolond? Oh, the silly fool knew her well and could easily be a source of all her dark secrets. Oh yes, he could divulge him his samplings, commiserate and so much more! She'd see to it! She'd have to! This was all for her Albert!

"But we've an audience," Sigi then whispered in Albert's ear. Tugging on his arm, she began to pull him toward the wagon that belonged Bolond and his family.

Not far off a new wagon was being built. The men were sweating over it as they put hammer to nail and paint to brush. With everyone working together, it would be completed by nightfall.

~~~

Ava felt her breath hitch the moment Clive's lips made contact with her hand. His lips were soft, though she expected them to be rough. He was a jabberjaw, the breath of the carnival and the one dangling coins in peoples' faces in order to learn secrets and divulge worse ones in return. But no. These weren't the lips of some foul-mouthed gossipmonger. They were the soft lips of a man, her knightly jibber-jabber who swore her an oath of silence.

As Ava watched him, her heart racing, beating fast, she didn't see the runaway or the fruit picker and he certainly wasn't the jabberjaw he boasted himself to be. Instead, she saw a man. She saw Clive—someone willing to lay his life, his very reputation, on the line and for one person only...her. No one had ever dared such a thing and she was certain no one ever would. Her dark eyes took in the way his own studied her, her coffee and bread forgotten. He was assessing everything, not missing a thing. She was sure of it just as sure as he was clever, as he was her Clive—the breath of the carnival.

"You make me smile, Clive," Ava stated then, deliberately using his name. She had to admit, she rather liked saying it. "Not many truly manage such a feat, yet you do so just by being yourself." She paused a moment, her heart beating so very hard. "Do not think yourself undeserving of thing," she added, licking her lips before continuing. "It's an insult to your lady who thinks you deserve everything."

At that, Ava brought Clive's hand against her cheek and rested her face against his palm.

~~~

Cordelia lied on top of her bed, her head feeling light, while her body felt heavy and unmovable. She heard the voice of Szem as he continued Filo's story, her eyes longing to open so she could look upon her beloved and shout out that she was sorry, so sorry for ruining the perfectly wonderful lives between two men who'd been like brothers...until she'd come along and turned their entire world upside down. If only she could've seen the future like Rhianna—one of the few with a true gift. Perhaps then she might never have stepped forward through that crowd and tempted fate.

Though Cordelia knew that was a lie. She loved every moment she shared with her beloveds. And the thrill of watching them battle wit and brawn and skill! So many nights, she'd gone to bed dreaming of her men, her hands doing wonders to her body while her imagination did the rest. Besides, she couldn't change time or her past choices. And truth be told, she didn't want to. She only wished her heart could settle and ease some of the pain her beloveds endured, not to mention quell the ache she felt rising inside each and every day that passed.

If only there was a way to decide, to perhaps predict the future. Cordelia knew that courting both men had been a foolish notion to say the least—though both seemed to fancy the idea—only, she'd been unable to help herself, her love for them both running deeper than the largest of canyons.

"F-filo?" Cordelia managed. "S-szem?" Her voice was slurred, but she longed for them both to be near. She was hardly in a state to handle their bickering, though usually it made her blood sizzle, her body burn and ache with desire. But now, her head hurt and she longed for the comfort of their embrace.

~~~

Stella just shook her head at the silly men. "Please, please," she said softly, her voice like a little music box. "Why not peruse the streets of fair Kaland and see if your little eyes can find these fair treasures you seek, hrm?" Her expression was coy, but thoughtful. "Kaland is large and colorful, I'm sure you'll find what you need." Her blue eyes moved from one painted man to the next. "All of you."

The servant moved forward and lifted up the tray to retrieve the emptied glasses. Stella downed the last bits of her champagne and let out a contented sigh. Smiling broadly, she set her glass down and eyed the three funny men.

"I'll do as you ask," Stella said, looking directly at the one name Roald. "All I want in return is for your Elspeth to weave me a shawl out of some thread in my stores." Her expression darkened. "It's not just any thread, you see. It's quite rare and special. I acquired it from Minosse for a large sum. It's whiter than snow and softer than the mist on the waves." She paused. "And I'd like her to weave me a shawl with it." Her dark expression lightened and she laughed as she clapped, a gesture letting her servant know that he was to get her special thread immediately.

~~~

There was a rush of adrenaline as the strange accent struck Cassidy's ears. She tried not to wince. Now wasn't the time to get caught. Oh no, the game was just getting more interesting and she was just warming up! She was always up for a challenge and she planned to face this one with full force and come out on top, smile and all. For a moment, her dark eyes strayed, but that was all she needed. Casually, she approached the rough farm hand and raised a hand to ruffle his hair.

"Well, aren't you behind the times," Cassidy chided. She gave a small tsk and placed a hand on her hips. With her other hand she brandished a glittering silver and held it up, a few nearby patrons turning their heads to manage a glance. "This, boys, is courtesy of my confidante sitting over there." She nodded toward a pretty miss who sat alone in s corner, her hands folded neatly in her lap. The prim girl looked out of place and more than likely had snuck out for a peek at the nightlife.

Well, Cassidy had plans to make it worth the young thing's while.

"This is my friend's silver coin and the drinks are on her." Cassidy gave the men a playful wink before setting the coin down upon the bar. "What'll it be, boys?" she asked, a grin plastered over her face. "I do hope you're both gentlemanly enough to thank my friend, show her the sights, give her some..." she paused dramatically. "Adventure." Two pints were slapped down onto the bar, some of the alcohol spilling over the edges. "Drink up."

~~~

Felicity could barely register Cal's words. They seemed so distant, yet only a thin drape separated them from one another. A part of her was desperate to tear down that wretched cloth, that false night, so she could stare into the eyes of the assistant.

"S-stop?" Felicity panted, her hips started to buck. "N-no. No, please," she begged. "Don't stop, I..." Her head lolled from side to side, red curls sticking to her skin, her body hot and needy. More than anything she longed for Cal's masterful fingers to probe further, to explore and stretch her slick folds.

Just what sorts of thoughts were flitting through her mind? Felicity hardly knew! She could hardly think! The extraordinary sensation of Cal's fingers, his palm, the heat of his hand! He pressed hard and harder still! Unable to help herself, she let out a low mewling moan. Her hands gripped the edges of the cot and what little was covering her body was slowly slipping away. She hardly cared as her legs spread wider, pelvis tilting and gyrating against Cal's gloriously warm hand.

"J-just you, Cal," Felicity groaned as her sex twitched and seethed, oh the tension in every muscle! She ached horribly! It was unbearable! "No doctor...just you...please...promise me, promise me!" Her moans were growing louder as her hips rose and fell, tiny strands of her heat dripping down her thighs.

This was the hysteria, the malady. It had to be! By god, if it was, she never wanted it to end!

Albert groaned with pleasure as Sigi tugged at his ear with her teeth. He was her love, and she would be his… soon, she said. Albert felt happy, disoriented. He was about to find out every single one of Sigi’s little secrets, and he hoped there were startling discoveries in the offing. She pulled him past some noisy workers. toward a black painted wagon.

Finally, a trailer that wasn’t infested with oddly cheerful parents. Sigi dragged Albert up the steps of the little gypsy home and pulled him in the door. He pulled the tie on his black velvet bathrobe, letting it fall open and he slipped a hand around her breast and got his other hand on Sigi’s pert little bottom. Finally. A little pre-party warm up was just what he needed.

“Oi!” Bolond yelled. He stood, filling the inside of the wagon suddenly. In two steps he covered the length of his space and swung a fist at where Albert’s face would have been if he had not had the reflexes of a carnival acrobat.

Albert twitched his head back just in time, stepped backwards out of the enclosed space, and grabbed the decorative rail above his head. He vaulted onto the roof of the wagon and balanced there, his robe blowing in the breeze. He felt the wagon rock under his feet and Bolond’s bulk came out of the door.

Albert saw that he had an audience, and a few of the old ladies clapped and whistled. He was on display in nothing but his drawers. He pulled the robe closed and tied it quickly, but, never one to waste a moment in the lime-light, he took a crisp bow and blew a kiss to the wrinkliest of the old Gypsies.

Bolond barrelled down the steps and into the yard before he saw where Albert had gone and he turned just in time to see him swing back into the wagon.

Albert flew into the wagon and spun Sigi around by the waist on his way in. He laughed, kissed her, squeezed her bottom, and kept going out the back of the wagon just as Bolond came back in again.

Albert led a merry chase through trailers, over the backs of horses, under the long board tables and through a rough gazebo where women were weaving flowers into a trellis, around the fire and back into the wagon. He swung Sigi around again and sat on the bench and drew her into his lap and kissed her again, taking his time.

Bolond appeared in the door, sweating and blowing. “I will kill you and roast you, you circus monkey,” he said, but he dropped to the bench on the other side of the wagon and bent over, trying to catch his breath.

——

Clive heard his name on Ava’s lips and felt something begin to break inside him. Some stony wall that kept him safe from harm, safe from joy. His cheeks burned with Ava’s kind words. She was a lady, yes, and the finest of ladies, but she had shed her mantle for him, and now he saw her with new eyes. He saw her as a child, as a thin lass, as a girl with a longing that never saw light or laughter, a woman who had become untouchable. And he was touching her.

Her cheek was soft under his fingers, and her eyes bright with what? With tears or some other passion? He could not tell, but he saw the tip of her tongue and the shine of her lips. He was overcome with a reckless boldness. He leaned across the table, half standing, and kissed her lips, his hand still touching her cheek.

The soft warm of her lips made his heart leap and then he sat again, surprised at his own boldness. He struggled not to apologize. She had said that he deserved everything. He had suffered enough slaps from girls who had seemed willing that he was cautious. There was something different about Ava though. He felt calm with her, his thoughts slowed pleasantly so he could savor each moment with her, every look in her eye, every word she said.

He smiled then, a wide smile that matched hers from just moments ago. "I've always wanted to kiss you, Ava, at first because you were beautiful, then because you were sad, and now because I want to taste the lips I can make smile." He reached across the table and straightened a stray hair from her forehead, the first he had ever seen.

——

Filo felt bad for Cordelia. If he and Szem hadn’t been fighting, then maybe she’d be her saucy self right now, laughing and dancing one of her alluring dances, but the whiskey had turned her into a shell of herself. Filo’s anger and suspicion melted away. He wanted, needed to take care of his girl. He exchanged a look with his old friend Szem and saw agreement there. A truce for the sake of the lady.

He sat on Cordelia’s right and the two men propped her up between them. Her head rested on Filo’s shoulder and he put an arm around her. Szem, on the other side, took her feet on his lap and caressed them gently.

“Hm,” Filo said, low and quiet, “Do you remember Skinny June?”

Szem chuckled, “Gods and sawdust, that was a long time ago. She beat you almost senseless. You were lucky I came into the barn. She’d have finished you off.”

“You slowpate,” Filo cleared his throat, "she wasn’t beating me.”

“Of course she was, sitting on top of you and screaming like a fisherwife and you with scratches all down your chest.”

“Well, I forgave you for rescuing me,” Filo said, grinning and shaking his head, “but never Skinny June. She nursed a hatred for you until…”

They both fell quiet, the smile fading on Szem’s face. “…until the consumption. The nurses said that June had a head start on death. She had no extra flesh to lose.” Szem shook his head again. “So you two weren’t in a struggle to the death?”

Filo shook his head slowly and laughed, deep in his chest. He stroked Cordelia’s raven hair, enjoying the heat of her body against his side.

“I would shoot my own mother for a pint of Foamy’s black ale,” Szem said.

“Yes. And I would shoot your mother for a platter of Foamy's seared steak strips rubbed with salt and onions.”

“Foamy, the old bastard. Got himself killed fighting road pirates just north of here, I heard.”

“Furking pirates,” Filo said, “I’d sink a blade into their furking lungs just to watch the blood bubble from their mouths. That’d be a fitting tribute for old Foamy."

They spoke long and quiet into the warm afternoon, remembered old travels and meals, women, rivals, and friends, some who were far away, and others who no longer breathed this earth’s air.

——

Roald tapped at Elspeth’s little trailer door, the gold heavy in his hand, and the great spool of white thread wrapped in a soft cotton bag under his arm.

“Hello, my Treasure,” he said, when she opened. “I have treasures for you, and news.”

He held the heavy little bag out to her. “Your fingers are the only ones skilled to earn this,” he said, and he was proud of her. “The Lady Stella in the rolling mansion wants you to weave a shawl with this thread.” He set the spool down on the table. “She says it is special, expensive, although I cannot tell.”

He swallowed the lump in his throat. He whispered, his voice failing him “Elspeth, you can be well again. We will find a doctor who can brew the ichor for your breathing.” He took her hands and kissed their backs. “We will run together, you and I.” He embraced her then, held her close.

He remembered Rhianna’s little purple bottle. “This is from the soothsayer,” he said, “She says it is for smelling only. Then she said that, ah... that it was not for drinking.”

They would run and climb, tumble in heather, in rain, under boulders. Rhianna’s warning had given him ideas. He would write a song about them before their fulfilling. It was all he could do.

——

Mairon laughed into his hat as Cassidy turned the attention away from herself yet again. She was a natural. She could manipulate an audience to focus exactly where she wanted.

The two workers picked up their pints and ambled over to the prim lady sitting against the wall. Her eyes were big as trailer wheels.

"Well, little lady, I suppose gratitude demands our most dedicated attentions," one of them said, sitting on one side of her.

"Oh yes. We'll show you the best and sweetest delights in all Kaland," the other said, and sat next to her. He emptied half his pint in a single draught and put a meaty hand on her thigh. "We know the town like we know our own wee baldies, don't we?"

"That we do, my bawdy dandy. That we do."

----

“How much do you have?” Chins said, kicking a stone on the road.

“Three coppers,” Mojo said, “you?”

“I have my wit and the club I keep down the front of my pants.”

"Well," Mojo said, "We have nothing to steal, so we're safe from marauders. And since you do not want to bruise your club, the marauders will be safe from us... unless they are ladies of exceptionally low standards."

The clowns wandered into Kaland, faces white with paint as was their habit. It drummed up business and made the townspeople curious. And maybe they’d treat their future audience with a jape or two. The streets were lightly traveled at this time of day and the prospect of drawing a crowd to earn a little coin was dreary. After walking most of the way through the center of town on the main road, Chins grabbed Mojo's sleeve and pulled him into a dark pub.

"I'm afraid we're going to have to share a pint," he said, and sighed deeply. He stepped up to the bar and ordered an ale, and reached for peanuts. His hand came away with a palm full of silver. The bowl was full of money.

"Mojo, look! It's a sign from the Lord of the Tribulation for sure! Or maybe just a confused drunk, but what matter? We've got enough to buy everyone a round and a bottle of smooth whisky for later."

There weren't very many people in the pub. A few sitting back in the shadows, a couple of big farm boys over on the right with a lady.

Mojo raised the bowl and yelled "A round of ale on the fat man! And kisses for all the ladies!"

There was a ragged cheer, but the farm hands moved toward the bar.

Chins caught sight of her then, his church lady at the pub plain as day. He grabbed a pint and sat across from her. "My colleague means that he will suffer the kisses of all the ladies, but I would have your kisses, you charming and handsome woman of such ample and arousing proportions. I heard you sing in church just this morning and I think your lungs would benefit from an oriental massage of which I am a practitioner."

----

Callum's mind had opened. Something had stretched and broken in him and he could never go back. He never wanted to. If the hysterical crisis was at all like what he had experienced just moments ago, he wondered that people weren't seeking the treatment in droves. But the Doctor had his patients, and never seemed to lack for them. There were depths to be plumbed here, and more than the book or the Doctor himself knew.

Felicity squirmed under Callum's fingers, and he rested his ear against her leg, longing to be closer to her. He wanted to see her face clearly, and to be seen himself, and admired. This last was a bitter thought, one he had taught himself never to entertain, but what a world would open up to him if even one person could look on his broken face and see more than just wrecked bone and skew teeth.

This touching, though, made him swell with some unnamed passion. He felt as though he was born to this fumbling among this one woman's garden, this playing in her moist fields. And she did not want him to stop. She said it most entreatingly, and he purposed not to disappoint. He sped the tips of his fingers again, and her flesh reddened under his hand.

Just you, Cal...

Maybe there was a touch of hysteria in his beautiful assistant. Maybe she spoke mad things, insensate, but what she said captured him. The thought of the Doctor here, doing these things with his sterile white coat and his blank eyes, made him sick with jealousy. He didn't want any man to touch the flower he had discovered. He wanted her for himself.

"I promise," he said. He slid a finger into the narrow slip of her opening, probed gently, marveled at the slippery moisture, the spicy fragrance, the way her hips pumped and swirled, seeking his fingers as though she would devour him somehow. He pushed deeper, exploring, probing. "I promise it will always, only be just me."

Rhianna in her trailer hugged a small pillow and giggled.

Sigi couldn't help but giggle at her Albert's antics. Clearly, he was just as eager to be married as she was, his hands roaming and ready to sample. How she loved the feel of his warm palm against her breast, ripe and heaving. Letting out a soft sigh amidst her laughter, she half wondered if Bolond had already told her beloved some of her secrets in the woods before she'd gotten there. Maybe that's why the two had looked ready to tear at each others' throats? Oh, that had to be it, surely! Her blue eyes glazed over and she remembered those heated moments when that fool of a man hadn't been able to help himself and he'd succumbed so easily to her whims. There's been that moment against the tree when their caravan had stayed near a wood with trees the size of giants. The bark had bitten into her flesh and she'd loved every moment as he'd plunged himself deep within her depths, grunting and sweating, fingers digging into her skin. Her cheeks flushed at the memory, but Bolond's face was the furthest thing from her mind.

Now, Sigi only had eyes for her Albert. What a marvel he was as he swung up on the roof and then ran through the yard. She hurried outside to watch the show, her mother bustling over with a grin plastered all over her face.

"You do love him," the older woman said knowingly.

"Yes, mama," Sigi spoke in kind, her eyes fixed on Albert, her hands clasped together. "I do."

Sigi's father approached and placed a firm hand on his daughter's shoulder and let out a gentle harrumph. "Well, he's spry, I'll give you that."

Sigi looked up at her father and smiled, a hand reaching for his. "Thank you, papa," she said, her smile bright as a breeze blew through, the scent of honeysuckle strong in the air. "He will make you a fine son."

"Hmph," the man sighed, but there was a smile on his lips. "Never thought my Tsigana would settle."

"Oh psh," Sigi's mother interrupted, dabbing at her eyes. "You'll make my face red and splotchy."

Sigi laughed while the onlookers cheered Albert and Bolond on. The two men were making quite the scene among the clan. It was nice having so much excitement and it spoke of such wonderful things to come at the festivities to be had later that night. Shaking her head, she headed back into the wagon while her parents went off to continue arrangements for the evening's party. Just then, Albert burst through the door and pulled her into his lap, his lips soon upon hers—soft and exploring. Smiling against his lips, she parted her own and let her tongue poke at him, prodding and demanding entry. She wanted to taste and explore, enough of this silliness! She heard Bolond enter, his shadow engulfing them both as he grumbled.

"Go home, Bolond," Sigi mumbled, her words muffled as she kissed along Albert's jaw line, teeth nipping at his flesh before letting her tongue lick and suck in their wake. But the man wasn't moving. He was staring and no doubt remembering.

It was hard to forget that time in the field where the grass had been tall. She'd assured Bolond that no one would find them, that it would just be them and nature. He'd torn her dress that day and she'd had to be creative to explain why her dress had needed mending. But oh how he'd ravished her body! No position had been left untried that day and she'd never been so wonderfully sore.

"Bolond..." Sigi said again. Letting out an exasperated sigh, she pulled away from Albert, her body more than unsatisfied. She gave Bolond an angry look though the man seemed satisfied enough. "My love," she said looking at Albert. "Bolond here is going to show you around and..." her eyes flashed at Bolond. "No fighting, no chasing, no killing each other. I won't have it."

"I'd never, Sigi," Bolond stated, sounding almost insulted. But Sigi just narrowed her eyes.

"I need to get ready for later anyway," Sigi confessed. "I do want to look my best for you." She leaned close to Albert and sucked on his lower lip. "I'll see you soon, lover." At that, she winked and flicked her golden hair. With a sway of her hips, she left the two men at their own devices.

~~~

Clive's hand was still on her cheek when he leaned forward and pressed his lips against hers. Ava felt something warm radiate from deep within and spread outward throughout her entire body. Just what were these foreign feelings so mysterious and strange? This was new territory even for her and yet she never felt so thrilled. Not even when she walked that thin wire above a cheering audience. The only audience that ever truly mattered was the one man sitting across from her in that very moment as he gently brushed a fallen strand of hair that had somehow managed to get in the way of her eyes. She was grateful as he tucked it back in place, restoring the vision of perfection that once was, but making it his own instead.

She loved him for that. Loved him? A flutter of nervousness caused Ava's tummy to tighten. So, this was what love felt like. To think she'd been deprived all these years. She'd never forgive Albert. Not ever!

"With you, I always smile, dear jibber-jabber," Ava teased trying to lighten her mood just a little. A part of her was terrified at the sudden realization of just how intense her feelings truly were and how vulnerable this made her become. Whether due to the years of depravity or something more, it was hard to say, though she hardly cared. She was sharing a moment with her man, with Clive—feeling his lips touch her skin as his words penetrated her soul—that, alone, was her undoing and she'd welcome it again and again and again.

For so long, Ava had watched the man, observing from afar as he sold secrets and made his way. She'd admired him, longed to know and understand this man who spoke in riddles and then easily made off with your coin. His walls had always seemed impenetrable, but as they sat there together over coffee and bread, they were slowly crumbling and she was being allowed special entry.

She'd never felt more special.

For a brief moment, Ava's dark eyes moved down toward the pretty pin she wore. To most, it wouldn't be much, a mere trinket, a silly inexpensive bauble. But to her, it meant the world, a promise made by her Clive. "I think it's one of your finer talents," she went on, looking back up into Clive's eyes and again she smiled, her cheeks flushing a healthy shade of pink. "And from this moment forward, these lips smile only for you." Biting down on her lower lip, she swallowed hard. "Never hesitate to kiss them."

~~~

Cordelia could feel both Filo's and Szem's hands gently take hold of her body as they helped her up. They knew she wanted them close while she recovered and once she was able to be up and about once more, she'd lay into them about the dear Doctor and his whiskey! Her head fell to the side, landing against something hard—no doubt it was Filo—and she listened to her loves as they spoke. For once, the two were speaking like brothers, like the men she was certain they'd been before she'd entered their lives. How different it must've been. Yet, how boring. She felt her heart twist as a surge of jealousy clawed at her insides over the mentioning of a past fling. Of course, she knew the trollop had meant nothing. None of the girls in either man's past had come close to anything she resembled. But even still, she couldn't help but harbor some resentment toward them all...each one.

Ugh! She'd never decide! Never!

~~~

"Kaland be naught but fifteen miles give or take," the burly man with a beard bellowed as he climbed down from his post. The rig he scurried upon was unique, a dilapidated boat ready to collapse as it moved over the uneven road.

"Well, we can't take to air," came a voice, a woman. "Sails are damaged, damn it. Fucking vultures clawed it to shreds!" She strutted along the deck with her hands on her hips. Letting out an angry scream, she raked both hands through her snowy white hair.

The men recoiled in fear. Magali wasn't a woman they wanted to see angry. Ever. She had a temper and when riled, the amount of destruction she was capable of creating was utterly astounding and more than they could afford. As it was, the airship was falling apart at the seams and they were in desperate need of supplies. Their last raid had nearly failed due to the condition of their ship. They'd barely made it off ground only to crash and now...

They were flightless.

"Aye, m'lady. But, beggin' yer pardon. It wasn't vultures who shredded our sails," one of the men chimed in.

Magali's head turned toward one of the pirates, her eyes glittering like jewels as she stared him down. Her hand immediately grabbed hold of the sword at her hip and she pulled it free from its sheath. The razor sharp edge of the blade was soon resting against the 'all too opinionated' pirate's throat and she smirked.

"Care to run that by me again?" Magali asked. The pirate just shook his head and mumbled his apologies. "What? No? Oh, I didn't think so." Her eyes narrowed and she slowly re-sheathed her sword. "Anyone else care to share opinions? Now is a good a time as any to speak up!" she shouted. She was angry and someone needed to feel her wrath.

Even if they didn't deserve it.

She'd apologize later. Much later.

But for now, Magali wanted to be angry!

"To Kaland!" Magali shouted. "May we not stay there long," she whispered under her breath.

~~~

Elspeth smiled when she opened the door and saw Roald standing there—even if he was now donning the white paint that hid the man she knew was hidden beneath. He'd brought her a large spool of fine white thread, the finest she'd ever seen. She studied it carefully, letting her fingers drink in the feel and texture of it. This wasn't any ordinary thread. This was special, rare and she had to wonder just how it was that someone like Miss Lucas had come by something so precious. However, to be contracted to sew the elegant lady a fine shawl with such exquisite thread was a remarkable compliment and brought a blush to the girl's cheek.

"It's quite fine indeed," Elspeth said softly, her breaths short and shallow. "But I can do this. I can." She smiled confidently and turned away from the thread that had been set aside. Roald had other news—news about doctors and medicines. For the first time, she allowed herself to have hope. A future wasn't something she'd never planned on having. It had always led to heartache and despair to allow herself to hope. First, her patrons had been unkind, then her mother had died and now... But she couldn't deny herself this little bit of faith, to wish for something...a happy ending. The very idea that she could be healed and spend her days with Roald was like a dream.

Something she desired so terribly that she feared admitting it out loud would only make this bit of optism that Roald was dangling in front of her disappear in a puff of smoke.

"What is it?" Elspeth asked quizzically as she stifled a cough. She leaned close to peer at the strange bottle, her hands moving over Roald's as they worked off the stopper. Nervous, but trusting in Rhianna's words, she inhaled as deeply as her lungs would allow.

~~~

Cassidy grinned as the two men walked over to the prim girl whose chocolate-colored eyes were as wide as saucers. Clearly, the young thing hadn't expected the two farm hands to interrupt her quiet corner. But Cassie could tell she was hardly in any trouble and now she was free from their probing questions and eyes. With a smug grin, she made her way toward Mairon and sat down beside him. The moment she sat herself down, she couldn't help but laugh.

Meanwhile, the young girl was beside herself! Just who were these two and why were they addressing her? Why curiosity had gotten the better of her, she'd never understand. Only, she hadn't been able to quell it and now she was inside this abhorrent establishment with two burly men telling her that she'd just bought them drinks!

Drinks? Purchased? The very idea!

Virginia Gower was not one to imbibe let alone buy alcohol for strange men. The very idea made her gasp. Flustered, she was unable to find words and just let the men keep their thoughts. Oh, better to let them think what they want anyway!

Wasn't it?

Oh, maybe it wasn't! This was getting worse and worse by the minute!

Ginny could feel the heat rising in her cheeks when a familiar voice struck her ears. She turned her head, a trembling hand reaching up to straighten her mousy hair. "S-sir?" she squeaked. Her eyes widened when she saw the clown and not the man she remembered earlier that morning standing before her. Just what devilry was afoot? This was a test and she was failing! "A practitioner, sir?" she stated, her head tilting to the side. "Just what massage are you speaking about? I'm unfamiliar with your talk and...and..." she looked over at the hiccupping farm hands and then at the clown companion standing behind the man—now painted—she'd seen earlier that morning in church. The look at the companion's face was difficult to miss even with all the white and black. They were making fun of her!

Damn her for being curious and wanting to see what such places were about! They were trouble, they were and now...

"I...if you'll excuse me," Ginny said, voice faltering. She lowered her eyes and gave a quick curtsey before dashing toward the door.

~~~

"G-good," Felicity whispered, her hands grasping the sides of the cot. Her hips were straining to meet Cal's masterful hands as he touched and explored, petting her heavily like she was something far more than a mere experiment for science. "Oh...Cal..." she panted, a low moan leaving her as she began to buck a bit, urging Cal to touch deeper.

As Cal stroked inside Felicity's sex, she thought she very well might die of pleasure. This was unlike anything she'd ever expected. Science was never this interesting, was it? Or perhaps she just never realized its true potentials. Then again, maybe it was just Cal and the way he did things, the way he handled her. Oh no, that wasn't it. This far exceeded that. There were no words for what she was feeling. Her entire body felt hot and she wanted this man to see all of her. She imagined his tongue exploring every crevice, kissing every inch while her hands explored him. Just then, Cal touched something and she let out a small whimper of pleasure.

"D-do that again...oh please, again...right there!" Felicity begged. Cal had found something new and exciting! His fingers were gently teasing a spot inside those moist folds that made her entire body tremble. Something inside was building, burning with each little stroke that he made. "Please...r-right there..." she moaned, adamant that his fingers maintain their play on whatever new spot they'd just found. New sounds began to echo in the air as she tried to breathe, to think. But all she could think about was Cal's fingers—touching, not stopping. She felt like she was ready to burst!

Why wouldn't the big oaf just go home like Sigi said? Albert was making headway with the willing gypsy girl and the big boy next door act was getting tiresome. If he could just have an hour's use of her, the whole big loving family thing would be so much more tolerable, but it seemed that nothing happened with any privacy among these people. Well that was fine with Albert, he wasn't shy. Quite the opposite, but a man who has just tried to take your head off is the last one you want in the room while you're trying to woo his little blond star away.

She gave him one last lingering kiss, then she was off again with no semblance of an explanation that could possibly make sense. She had already won the prize, why would she need to look her best? Albert had hoped to make her look deliciously and completely rumpled, in fact. Positively worse for the wear. He was of a mind that a woman should look well and heartily entertained when she left his bed. Or her bed. Where was the damn bed? And the bigger question was why did his flighty lover keep shoving him into the company of such a boorish bear?

"Where did she go?" Albert said when the silence had stretched too long.

"To get ready."

Albert found this difficult to believe. If a woman was ever ready for him, this Sigi was. He decided to try a different tack.

"Who are you?"

"Bolond."

"Yes," Albert said, patiently, "but who are you to Sigi?"

“Sigi is my girl. All the Romani know this.”

“Ah, well, it doesn’t seem that Sigi is aware.”

Bolond made a fist, then released it. “She was always mine. I know. We… how do you say it… inpulit in the woods. It was me she wanted. In the trees, in the grass. We inpulit under her parent’s trailer at midsummer night.”

“You… inpulit?”

Bolond scowled and slammed his fist into his other hand five or six times. “Inpulit!”

“So... you're saying she likes to dally in the great outdoors?"

Bolond stood and hit the roof of the trailer and bellowed. Albert stood, startled, ready to disappear again if he needed to, but Bolond seemed to calm down a little. He growled, then, and nodded his head toward the door.

"I will take you to where the food is. This is what Tsigana wanted. For me to show you our places."

Albert wondered, briefly, at the amount of preparation his presence had caused, then he remembered that he had not eaten yet. He followed the big man at a cautious distance and was pleased to smell sausages frying in a black pan not far away.

----

Clive toppled. He had built a tower of winks and whispers to hide in. Every conversation carefully turned away from himself to others. It had become habit to slip a delicious little tantalizing nugget about some local lady or lord, how they sipped laudanum or tupped scullery maids in dusty wine cellars. Always someone else's story, as though he had no story of his own. As though he had no passion but the naughty tale, told for a favor or coin and no history beyond the road from the last town.

"I want you to know me, Ava," he said, "and I'm neither saint nor jester, truly, though I've played both and many roles in between. I've lived rootless and unknown and it's suited me until now, but I love no one so well as you. I think I have never loved, though I have claimed to, foolishly, for warmth of a cold carnival night. I beg your forgiveness, Ava, for every time I have said words of devotion to anyone but you. I could not imagine then that our fates would cross us, to trust and be trusted, and I would not lose your trust for sparkles or shine, whim or wealth."

Her hand seemed suddenly precious to him beyond reason. He rounded the table, sat next to her, and held her hand in both of his.

"I am all burst open for you, precious bird. Taste if you like of me, listen if you like, ask if you please. I am yours, yours, yours."

He wanted to kiss her again, but waited. The air was full of their looking, Ava's eyes deep dark and longing, Clive's blue-grey, clear, open. He leaned toward her, and the air seemed to bloom with some promise in the space between their lips.

"Mmmm, Ava, the moments before kissing you are filled with magic. Can you feel it too? Can you taste it?"

----

The Doctor walked through the trailers toward the white therapy tent. He passed Cordelia's trailer and paused, hearing not angry struggles for her attentions, but the quiet snores of the two rivals, exhausted by their injuries and the passions they expended on each other.

----

Szem curled around Cordelia on her bed, his cheek against her shoulder, his arm over her waist. The warm afternoon and the quiet talk had drowsied him. Filo lay curled on her other side, his arm under Cordelia's breast. Her hair tickled his nose sometimes as he breathed deep in his sleep. He dreamed of catching her in some abandoned farm and pinning her clothing with knives to the wooden planks of a barn or the wallpapered wall of a long-unused kitchen. How he'd torture her, not with the threat of the blade, but with the press of his body, how she would be helpless to embrace him, though she would try.

"Hold still, Heart," he murmured in his slumber, "I'll fill what's wanting when it pleases me."

----

The pink seemed to jump into Elspeth’s cheeks the moment she breathed Rhianna’s preparation. Roald found he had been holding his breath. He let it out, relieved as she began to breathe more smoothly, a little deeper than before.

“I would watch you work your thread if you will, Elspeth. You can weave your silks and I will weave a song for you to gladden your heart and speed the time.”

He had no instrument, but he sat in the corner of Elspeth’s trailer, a simple, but carefully kept place. He hummed tunelessly as he did when he was forming words in his mind, then sang, stopping and starting as new ideas occurred to him.

My Elspeth pulls and knots the thread
her fingers spin, they fly, they fret
She pauses not for twitch or shaking
O white the shawl my love is making

The weave is tight as my embrace
the edges smooth as Elspeth’s face
and when the cloth is finally done
I’ll take my weaver to my home
I’ll take my weaver to my home.

He made more verses, some funny, some melancholy, but each chorus ended the same way:

I’ll take my weaver to my home.

——

Chins stood and, though he was in a terrible hurry to catch his well endowed church lady, he drained his ale, never spilling a drop. Then he propelled his bulk through the door and saw his quarry making her way up the street, her skirts lifted to keep them from sweeping the street. Mojo followed on his heels.

“Don’t run, lady,” he called, "you’ll break my heart and kill your suitor and what kind of confession would that make next Sunday before hymns? The guilt of murder sits heavy on a woman’s breast, no matter how ample or soft.”

“Amen,” Mojo said, and snickered.

“Oh, the love you withhold is the same as hate, that’s what the Tribulation Bible says,” he said, hoping it was true, or at least true enough, “And hating is a bad sin. I’ve heard it in the pews of every town from DeFum to Minosse. And your running is hating and every step a sin against your fellow man and a grief to his failing heart! How thin does the milk of kindness run in your veins that you can abandon your devoted admirer in the crowded streets of this cold and cruel world?”

“A cruel world indeed,” Mojo said, “and cold.”

The woman hurried into the bustle of the marketplace and Chins feared that he would lose her. She was hobbled by her fashionable shoes, for which he was grateful, but his was not a body built for speed, but for long ambling endurance which was an asset when the only distance to travel was from one side of a bed to the other one sweet thrust at a time.

He barely kept sight of her pure white blouse, though, several shades whiter than the garments of anyone else in the market square. He gave his best chase, and only paused a second to steal a squirt of wine from the wine peddler’s skin to replenish his tissues.

Mojo kept up with a fast walk, eyeing the crowd, looking for the marks, the prudes, the trollops, and the dandies. They would all wander wide-eyed into the carnival in the next days without doubt, and a clown who kept his eyes open could worry extra coin from a pocket or two if he knew their ways and their manner of speaking.

He saw something then that almost stopped his heart. A basket just big enough for a watermelon squash and two loaves of bread sat alone on a red woven rug. As he watched, the round lid tipped off and, magically, a woman’s fine foot showed itself from the inside of the basket.

——

In the bar, the farm hands turned with their ale to find their supposed benefactor escaped and even their slow heads began to suspect that they had been the butt of some mischief or other.

“Where’s the other one? The clever minx with the silver shine?” one of them said. “She’ll pay the other doxy's flesh debt if I have to turn over every table.”

Mairon’s laughter stopped cold. The custom of flesh debt was almost unheard of in civilized towns, but the more backwards outlying farms and villages still held a woman responsible for the arousal she had caused, and a complainant could collect flesh debt as he saw fit. Surely it would be marked as forbidden in the lawbooks of Kaland, but the law could be tricksy and soft and a stranger was wise to give the courts a wide berth on questions of tradition, even outmoded ones.

He turned to Cassidy, his eyes wide. He grabbed her arm and pressed her into the shadows across from the door. He pushed her against the wall and pulled her skirts off with a single jerk leaving her in her bloomers. He kicked the skirts behind the bar.

“They’ll recognize your skirts more than your face, I’ll wager,” he said, his face directly in front of hers, “that’s what they watched most.” He took his hat off and put it on her head, then pulled her knee up and wrapped her leg around his waist. “I apologize,” he said, his lips a scant hairbreadth from hers. “I’ll steal you new skirts if yours are spoiled.”

——

The Doctor put his hand on the therapy tent flap and paused, listening. There they were- the verbal expressions that signalled an imminent paroxysm. He had intended to supervise Callum this first time, but any interruption at this point could be disastrous. His tinker had clearly understood the basics, at any rate. He felt the heat of the afternoon on his bald head and turned his face toward his trailer where he could wait for Callum’s report with a cold mint water and a slice of cold beef.

——

Callum touched deeper, the soft heat of Felicity’s sex seeming to embrace his fingers in hot silken moisture and when she jumped a little he almost paused, but she begged him to continue. He memorized the place, the slight change in the texture under the pads of his fingers and he obeyed her gladly. He flicked over the place, pulled, pushed, pressed, every dance he could devise for his fingers, he practiced over that one magical place.

“Is that right, Felicity? Does that please you?”

He remembered that other spot, the one where her petals met and, though the book had not mentioned it, he thought to worry it again. Oh the spice in the air, his mouth watered with a burning curiosity. How would it taste? He lowered his face carefully. He was sure that this would ruin the experiment. No mention was made in the book…

“Damn the book,” he said, under his breath, and touched his tongue to the swollen pink pearl as he swirled his fingers inside her body, summoning some crisis of whose power he had only just glimpsed.

Her flavor overwhelmed him and he lapped at her eagerly, each drop of her moisture a delight to his taste.

He would have spoken to her, he thought, if he had another tongue, but he knew that was not true. If he had another tongue, he would have flattened it against her flesh as well, the better to taste her spice.

His hand dropped to the edge of the cot and he reached under the fold of the curtain. He found Felicity’s hand there and covered it with his own. Her fingers felt small and smooth under his, and they were clenched tight.

Sigi was beside herself, so in love and in lust. A part of herself felt badly for poor, foolish Bolond. Yes, they'd had fun times together exploring the wonders of nature and each other. But it was time to get serious. It was time to settle. She'd found her fiancé and the great big buffoon was going to have to learn to accept it. What better way than teaching her beloved the ways of their clan?

If he was lucky, she just might dance with him twice later that night instead of once!

Giggling, smiling, Sigi ran off to find her mother, anxious and excited to finally wear that dress she'd been pining over ever since she'd been a small girl and found the lovely garment stored away in the old wooden chest. It would be hers now, hers to wear and flaunt. Albert would adore it and her in it! And oh the things they'd do later while she wore it! She'd insist that he not remove it...at least not for their first round. She wouldn't vouch for anything thereafter.

How could she?

Cheeks blazing, her blue eyes glittering, Sigi thrust open the door and found her mother busily fluffing and smoothing out the precious dress. It gleamed in the dim lighting inside the wagon, the creamy satin shimmering like something out of a fairy book. She rushed over to the dress and let her slender fingers gently caress the fine fabric. Her smile said it all as her mother pat her head and gave her a sweet kiss.

"Ah, darling girl," the woman sighed. "This is a most joyous day indeed!"

Outside, Tsigana's father had joined a group of men who were hovering over one of the fires. They'd placed some food into a large pan and had it rigged so that it sat over top the dancing flames. The meat sizzled and popped as they talked, some were drinking from large tin cups, the liquid running down their chins and into their beards. When Sigi's father caught sight of Bolond and Albert he gave the two men a nod and slowly approached. He eyed the smaller man, the one his daughter had chosen. He was no Romani.

But he would soon learn.

With a sly grin, Sigi's father thrust a cup full to the brim with pungent ale into Albert's hand. "Drink," he bellowed before laughing heartily. The other men joined in. "You'll feel better once this runs through your veins!"

~~~

Oh Ava was well aware of the many roles her Clive had played. While she'd danced high upon the wire with Albert, she'd looked down and watched him. The view from above allowed her to see much and she missed little, though her gaze always returned to the man who spun words and jingled coins, ready to run into the shadows the moment an angry patron tried to chase after him. He was always swift and clever, outwitting them all only to do it all again. How jolly he seemed when he worked, when he strutted through the yard with a captive audience in his wake. But as they looked into each others' eyes, she could feel it, taste it.

And how she craved every last bit.

With a gentle nod, Ava licked at her lips and blinked twice. "I...I can," she whispered softly, her breath catching in her throat. The air was thick and heady. She couldn't smell the coffee or the sweet jam slathered on the bread. It was the scent of her awe and wonder, of this feeling she felt growing inside.

Swallowing lightly, Ava reached up and let her fingers trace the contours of Clive's face. His skin was roughened from a day's worth of stubble. So different from the way her brother carried himself. She inched closer, her fingers touching, exploring. She let them move over his lips, so soft and warm. Biting down on her full, lower lip, she leaned forward and sucked in a breath.

"I confess it's the sweetest torture I've ever endured."

~~~

"This damned town hasn't a proper port!" Magali fumed, a hand raking through the wild silver tresses atop her head. Her eyes scanned the city that was a short walk from where they stopped. As she took in the place, she saw a great train of brightly colored trailers and a smile suddenly crept along across her lips. She brought her spyglass up to her eyes and looked out toward the tiny city again. "I'll be damned," she muttered.

"M'lady?" one of the crewman asked. He stood beside her, shaking in his boots.

"Looks like the circus has come to town, men. Kaland might prove a bounty after all." Magali's lips turned up into a half smile as she thrust the spyglass at the trembling pirate.

"Aye, a great bounty!" he shouted, raising a fist in the air. Magali just rolled her eyes.

"What about our sails?" another crewman shouted.

Magali stopped dead in her tracks and glanced over her shoulder. "What about them?" she drawled. Truly she wondered about her crew. They were docked in the best place they were able. Surely these daft men could find a means to see that their sails be mended. This town should be teeming with people ready and willing to lend service and if they weren't willing...she'd make them do it! How else would anything get done?

With a smile and a grunt, Magali hoisted herself over the side of the battered airship and began climbing down the rope ladder. When she was low enough, she jumped onto the ground with a soft thud. The air smelled sweet, like over ripe fruit. Oh, how she longed to feel the breeze in her hair as The Artemis took flight high in the skies where she belonged. Air and water, that's where her ship shined, not this dusty road!

With a swagger in her step, Magali headed toward town, leaving her men behind to tend to the ship in her stead. As she meandered closer to the bustling city, she veered slightly, her eyes drawn toward those pretty, colorful wagons.

~~~

For once she could breathe! Though Elspeth wasn't foolish enough to think that the remedy would last forever. This was a short-term potion, something that would relieve the symptoms for a time, but she was glad for any relief she was granted. She'd almost forgotten what it was like to breathe so freely, to smell the sweetness of the air.

"I'd like you to stay," Elspeth murmured as she picked up the thread and began her work, fingers steady and always moving. Never had she seen finer thread or heard finer song while weaving. Her heart swelled with every note, every verse. She would be his. She would be his forever. How she longed to find that true peace so many took for granted. She'd never take her funny man for granted. He was as precious to her as every breath her lungs would allow her to take. Yes, he'd take her home and there she'd find her peace. She'd find love.

~~~

Ginny was beside herself! She'd been humiliated, completely and utterly mortified! She knew it had been wrong to give into temptation and darken the door of that bar, but she'd been so overcome with curiosity that she'd had no choice but to give in. The fine music was so jolly, so different from the hymns she listened to day in and day out. Her feet longed to tap, to dance, to...but it was a disgrace! She'd be mocked and laughed at now! Just what would everyone would think? Her dark eyes glistened with tears as she hurried out into the streets, her steps light as she ran along them. Far behind her, she could hear the all too familiar breathy shouts. Glancing behind herself, her eyes widened.

The clowns?

"Oh no...no, no, no!" Ginny whined. Her day was just getting worse and worse. She looked up toward the sky and saw the steeple staring down. Perhaps that should be her aim, head for the church and ask for immediate forgiveness!

But the shouts didn't stop. He was persistent to say the least. Ginny slowed slightly, her ears perking up as she listened to the man she remembered earlier on. Was she hearing him correctly or was he professing himself there in public, like a ridiculous...

Oh, she couldn't bear it! He was a clown! Ginny stood there, her face in her hands. How could such a man love her? Pious and devout one moment, ludicrous and lewd the next? Just what did any of this mean? She brought her hands down and stared at the clown before her as he ran to catch up.

"You?" Ginny squeaked. "How could...you...love me?" How indeed! Was he a learned man or worldly? It was hard to say as he stood before her in such an array. "I don't withhold love, good sir. I know my Bible well." She held her head up high. Two could play this little game.

~~~

It had been hot inside the basket, but worth it when she finally knew the coast was clear. Campbell Wingate could hear the chaos above and knew it was the perfect time to make her getaway. Carefully, she pushed the lid off the basket and extended a leg. Then, without much effort, unwrapped her body from the strange contorted pose she'd managed to keep while hidden away. It was a useful skill and had come in handy several times. She didn't know anyone else who could contort their body into tiny balls so that they could fit into baskets and boxes and move from town to town totally hidden, unnoticed. Some scoffed and claimed she'd get caught.

But not yet...not yet.

Campbell stretched and yawned and cracked her neck. Smiling, she reached for a shiny red apple she saw sitting on display. With all the chaos, no one would notice her taking it. Giggling, she fluffed her long dark hair and skipped up the road.

~~~

Cal's fingers were magic as they played Felicity's sex in all their masterful glory. She was breathless, her thighs quivering as she gripped the sides of the cot. "Y-yes," she panted. "I-it pleases v-very much..." She arched her back and let out a soft groan, sweat beading along her brow as she writhed and pushed her hips forward. "M-more...more, Cal..."

Felicity could hardly believe the words she was saying. More? Was she supposed to want this crisis, this hysteria, to fall upon her? The Doctor made it sound like a malady, but it felt more like blissful ecstasy. Miss Lucas had been right that she shouldn't worry about her reactions, that she should relax and enjoy the experiments. Oh, she was enjoying every last bit and she hardly wanted it to stop. She could feel her body moving toward something, an urgent need claiming it, pulling it closer to the edge as the fire within grew and finally engulfed her.

"Nnngg..." Felicity moaned when she felt something different, a hand reaching out, desperate to grasp, to feel. But, it got tangled in the damnable black curtain instead, so she held onto it with all her might. "C-cal...C-cal..." she whimpered, hips moving against something wet and warm and wonderful. She heard nothing but muffled grunts, but that only furthered her excitement. Suddenly, something brushed her knuckles, a hand moving over hers.

Felicity eased up on her grip of the cot and let her fingers entwine with Cal's as he continued his important work...their important work. They were in this together. There was no one but the two of them and she wanted him to know what she was feeling.

"You feel good, C-cal..." Felicity groaned. "Wh-whatever you're doing...y-you feel good...nngg..." She was beside herself, on fire and burning brighter. She didn't think she could hold out! The crisis was taking its hold!

Just then, Felicity let out a scream, her entire body shaking and shivering as her hips went wild, juices gushing from her sex, while she writhed at every heated touch. The sounds were wet and messy to her ears, but she hardly cared, it thrilled and excited! She tugged on the curtain as her sex clenched over and over, but it held firmly in place. Her other hand squeezed Cal's tightly and knowing he was there with her when the crisis happened, was at its worst, was just what she needed, what she wanted.

"C-cal?" Felicity spoke as her body began to settle, her voice soft, yet wavering. "C-cal?" She hoped he'd gotten enough data on this first experiment, that she'd been a help to him with everything...and more. So much more. She hadn't expected to feel these feelings afterwards, this strange connection of intimacy. A bond had formed. She could feel it and it frightened her. Would it ruin the further experiments to come? She hoped not. She didn't want to give up her Cal or this strange closeness she suddenly felt. The emotions were raw as she lied there trying to catch her breath. Closing her eyes, she whispered, "D-did that please you?" Suddenly mortified at her words, she blushed and added, "I...I mean, did I do well?"

Albert’s eyes were on the browning sausages in the pan when Sigi’s father put the cup of ale in his hands. These were large men, and unrefined. Normally, Albert would have declined—when he drank in the morning, he liked to drink alone. Something told him he needed to break that habit today. He sniffed the ale and had to fight to keep from sneezing. It had a strong, spicy aroma and the foam was thick and brown. He shrugged and took a long draught. It was strong and bitter, but not unpleasant. He grinned at Sigi's father, who watched him carefully. He took another long draught, took a breath, and finished it off. There were raised eyebrows around the fire and murmurs of admiration. Albert prided himself on being able to gauge an audience. He let out a grinding belch that earned him several claps on the back.

Bedding gypsy girls seemed to be a community effort and he supposed if they didn't mind, he didn't either. He just hoped they wouldn't all crowd around the bed or barn or haystack. Anywhere with a bit of padding and a couple of walls would have done. And where was Sigi? Another cup of ale appeared in his hand just as the first cup got to his head. He smiled, took a sausage out of the pan with his bare fingers and burned his tongue on it, but there was laughter all around him and he got the best idea of his life.

"Get a rope!" he yelled, "A strong rope."

The big gypsy men shrugged at each other, but they produced a thick woven rope in short order.

"Two men on one side, two men on the other," he said, the second cup of ale already half empty in his hand. He waved his hands like he was conducting an orchestra. He stepped on to the rope as it lay on the ground. He got his feet positioned, then he yelled "Pull!"

He jumped a little as the rope tightened and it worked beautifully. He shot into the air, a little above the rope, then landed on it perfectly. It was looser than his wire, but presented no problem to his well-trained feet. He walked to one end, held his cup up and drank to the two men straining to keep the rope taut. Then he walked to the other end. Bolond and Sigi's father held it tight. Sigi's father laughed, deep and loud, but Bolond's smile was less pleasant. He jerked the rope sideways once, twice. Albert compensated, but the wobble was unflattering. He finished the ale, jumped off the rope and landed lightly just in front of Bolond. The alcohol sparked a little ball of rage that flashed in front of his eyes.

"You uncivilized brute!" he yelled, and swung his fist at the big man. He missed, and fell, but the reaction from the gypsy men was overwhelmingly positive. They cheered him, picked him up off the ground, brushed the dust off of his robe, and put him on their shoulders. Someone started a tune on an accordion and a violin and drum joined in. They danced him around the fire like some kind of local hero. The stunt had been a good one, he thought, as the world seemed to spin in color and music around him, and why not celebrate with a bit of a dance? There was a vague sense of something not right, but his heart was glad and he was well on his way to getting the pretty blond thing. This was no time to pry at niggling warnings. After all, what could happen that would be so terrible? Six or seven days hence they would be on the road again, in opposite directions most likely, and one twin or another would be there to comfort him in his hour of loss.

"You must be dressed in colors," Sigi's father pushed the dancing men until Albert dropped to the ground. He landed on is feet, thankfully, but it was hard to keep them. The ale was uncommonly strong and Albert was not of a gypsy size. He followed the big man into a trailer where they found a pair of fine leather pants, a bloused shirt, and a multicolored vest laid out on a bench.

The whole world was happy and blurry. Albert’s robe was taken from him and the new clothes were put on him a piece at a time. The world whirled and he couldn't focus. It seemed several older women surrounded him at one point, prodding and tucking the new clothes. He searched for Sigi's father, or even Bolond, but the men had disappeared altogether. He sang an old love song, loud so Sigi would hear, wherever she was, and let the women fuss and giggle. A red sash was tied around his waist and the women stood back and admired him. This, at least, was clear. He bowed and turned for them and one of them, Sigi's mother, he thought, kissed him on his lips, then embraced him. She had tears in her eyes.

----

Clive pressed his lips to Ava's, slowly, savoring both the waiting and the touching, the expectation and the reality. She tasted wild when he found her tongue with his own. Their dance was slow, hot, slippery, exhilarating.

"I could live just on the taste of your mouth," he said, his nose next to hers, his lips still touching hers. He felt as though food was a thing of the past for him. And yet he longed to eat something sweet. Pears, peaches, berries. He wanted to share a single perfect strawberry with his Ava.

"Come with me, Ava. Love. Let's find berries in Kaland's market to share between us. Your lips remind me of sweet fruits, soft, ripe fruits."

Everything was before them. Even a walk with Ava filled Clive with a sense of excitement and wonder. Would he hold her hand like bold lovers or would they brush shoulders shyly, careful not to reveal themselves? Was there anyone to fear? Even the questions were delicious.

He touched his finger to Ava's lips and closed his eyes. The heat of her breath surrounded his finger and he inhaled, taking her breath into his nostrils.

"If we don't leave now," he said, smiling, "I will devour you. You are delicious and I don't trust myself to stop with just your lips."

----

The Doctor sat just inside his open door, mint water in hand and listened to his carnival around him. The pounding of tent pegs, the yelling and laughter of the crews, the washer women and the cooks, foul mouthed carnies, a guitar tuning, a low drum being played softly, mournfully. He heard Felicity cry out, and he nodded to himself. Young Callum was a quick study. In a day or two Cal could begin to help him. He could double his patient load and that would profit the carnival more than Callum could, even in his cage.

A lone walker caught his eye far up the road. An unusual profile, and the Doctor stood, shielding his eyes. Long white hair blowing in the wind, a woman, by her gait, but wearing trousers like a man, and at her side a sword, the sheath flashing in the sun. He was put in mind of a drawing in the taxman’s offices in Faraviata, made with the assistance of a survivor of a vicious pirate attack. White blowing hair and a beautiful, determined face.

He stepped down into the dust and went to Cordelia’s trailer.

——

Szem woke to someone pulling his boot.

“What?” He rolled over reluctantly, to find the Doctor standing over him, finger to his lips. He nodded his head toward the door and went outside.

Szem disentangled himself from Cordelia’s sleeping form. He was reluctant to leave Filo with her, but the look on the doctor’s face alarmed him. He stepped out of the trailer.

“I need your gun for a far-off conversation,” the Doctor said in a low voice, “See the woman walking alone on the road?”

Szem raised his eyes and found her, her hair catching the sun. She was little more than a speck.

“I need to talk to her, but she has a sword and I need to convince her not to use it before she hears what I have to say. I think she is not one to let near to the carnival. Not yet.” He swirled his mint water in his glass, thoughtfully, then leaned close to Szem. He gave him instructions and signals.

Szem listened, his eyes on the distant figure. Any woman who walked alone so confidently and far from the city must be very dangerous indeed. He repeated the signals to the Doctor, then went to his trailer, took his long rifle down from its hooks and checked the barrel and chose three shells from his box. Then he tossed a mat on to the roof of his trailer. He climbed up and lay prone, searching through his scope for the Doctor. He found him walking out along the road, his white clothing shining like a beacon in the sun. He went out a half mile, slowed, and sat on a boulder by the side of the road under a shady tree. Szem turned his scope further off and saw the approaching woman, and magnified in his scope he could see that she was both terrifying and beautiful.

——

Chins ascribed to the school of pursuit that taught that the best way to catch someone was to get them to stop running, although when it worked he was somewhat surprised. His church lady, who had seemed so determined to get away was suddenly facing him, proud and wonderful.

He huffed up to her and bent at the waist, hands on his knees to catch his breath. He had jogged nearly a city block, further than he had ever run in recent recollection.

“How could you love me?” she said, and Chins tried hard to remember what he had said that would have given her that idea. He was fairly sure he hadn’t said the word because he was prone to stuttering whenever the word came up. A pleasant conversation with a young lady after an evening plowing her fields and drinking from her well could go pear-shaped in an instant if she professed love. It turned him from a loose-tongued wit to a woolly mouthed dolt. It was a useful fantasy, though, which he had used often in flattering a doe-eyed tart into a state of undress.

But when she went on about withholding love he realized he had said it. It had slipped out of his mouth unbidden, unthinking, and had not fouled his gears to seizing. This unprecedented idea left him tongue-tied for a moment.—a moment he was covering as he caught his breath.

He stood, his hand on her shoulder to hold himself steady and to feel the warmth of her body through the white, white blouse. “So am I to understand that you, my handsome and captivating lady, l-love many and sundry, freely as the flowers of the field accept the intimate attentions of the bees and birds?”

“I would congratulate you, you darling flower of rectitude and dissipation, but I must take exception to the niggling credit you do yourself. I can see, that you should be much more congratulated for the wide arms you spread to the world, and to me in particular, though I am a painted clown, at least I am an honest one when I say that your discretion and propriety do flame me to a most innocent passion. A most pure salaciousness that mere declarations of lo… lo… lewdness would never sully.”

“I speak as forthrightly as I could never hope to exceed when I declare that my feelings for you are stiffened with the blood of courage and effort. That my being has erected a tower in honor of your towers, a shining sword for the sheath which admits not the sharp, dishonest blade, but the honest, blunt one. A blade whose thrust is healing and brings a most delightful bliss instead of pain, a small death instead of the insurmountable one. And I am firmly against any woman who in her pride and hatred refuses to be insurmounted.”

“I am Chins, a devoted follower of followers of Tribulationism, especially such as yourself, who boast lungs for singing that raise, if not the dead, then the slumbering to full attention and readiness for the works of the flesh.”

He had confused himself, and could not remember where he had begun, but the small crowd that had gathered snickered and applauded at various points in his short speech. This was encouraging, at least, so he bowed as low as he could, then stood and took her hand in his.

“So I know you understand that it would in no way besmirch your integrity to share lunch with me by special invitation at my place of employment, Doctor Manuel’s Carnival and Circus Spectacular.”

His small audience cheered.

——

Mojo stood transfixed as the girl unfolded herself out of the impossible little basket, his mouth open. The apple swipe was quick as the flash of a trout’s back, and she skipped away, untroubled. Mojo went to the basket and looked inside to see if there was a trick. There was always a trick, but there was no trap door, no secret cellar under the basket like he had used many times in the fireman gag. He picked up the basked and turned to follow the dreamy girl.

As he set out after her he heard a man growl behind him. “Filthy thief… I’ll catch her,” and Mojo startled and found himself running after her as hard as he could, one hand on his hat and the other carrying the basket. He passed the girl, running, then turned as she skipped along the road, unaware of the danger she had put herself in. Mojo charged her, and just as he was about to run into her, he shifted, turned, snatched the apple from her hand, and tumbled down the street to stop at the feet of the pursuing fruit seller. He held the apple aloft, and it slipped from his hands. He bobbled it, bouncing it on his knee, his elbow, kicking it high in the air with his heel. He bobbled the apple all around the seller, and onlookers began to giggle. He searched through his pockets for pennies between rolling the apple down his arm, balancing it on his head, and losing it down the neck of his shirt. He caught it on his toe just before it hit the street and he popped it into the air, handed the grocer a copper, and caught the apple in his mouth with a flourish.

The circle of people clapped and yelled, and the grocer stood dumbly with the copper between his fingers. Mojo bowed, then took the girl’s hand. “My assistant, ladies and gentlemen! Miss Foldia! And I am Mojo, Clown of Doctor Manuel’s Carnival and Circus Spectacular!” He took another bow and held the girl’s hand firmly as he stepped into an alleyway, a rough approximation of leaving the stage.

“If you’re going to lift fruits, pretty, you need to sweeten the grocer first. I have two questions for you. What’s your name? And do you suffer the hysteria often?"

——

Felicity’s fingers found Callum’s and held tight. Every taste of her made him more hungry, more thirsty for her body, for her moisture. Her cries, the words she said, his name… they drove him to a frenzied pace and she responded in kind, bucking against him, tilting herself toward him to touch, to fondle, to taste.

All thought of the therapy was gone. He had no inkling of procedure or technique. What did the dusty book know of Felicity? He know more about her already than the book would ever say, and he would know more. He would explore every possibility with her, everything the book said and many more of their imagining and desire.

Then it happened. The paroxysm, though the word displeased him now. It was nothing short of magical, Felicity’s scream of delight, the shaking of her body, the squeezing of her sex on his slick fingers. She poured clear liquor from her sex and Callum caught all that he could, as though he were dying of a very specific thirst.

He had broken lips, cleft, but as her shaking subsided, he kissed her petals gently, in wonder.

He still held her hand and he pulled her up to sitting. “Turn and lean back against the curtain, Felicity,” he said, “I want to wrap you. I want to hold you.”

“You were wonderful. I had no idea you would be such a pleasure to… to work with. But don’t you feel it too? Something bigger than science happened. Something that will live forever here in this place, in this air. I feel like the flowers that bloom on this spot after we’re gone, for hundreds of years will bloom bigger, brighter. I feel like we will be remembered by the earth, if by nobody else.”

He rested his chin on her shoulder through the black curtain. “But I think there’s more to discover, Felicity, and whatever it is, I want to find it with you.”

Sigi's mother wiped at her eyes as she watched her daughter's fingers gently stroke the fine fabric. She knew just how much she fancied the dress. Far too many times she'd caught the girl sneaking peeks at it while it had still been stored away in the chest. She remembered all too well that one day when the girl had been but ten, perhaps eleven, and had announced that she'd wear that dress proudly and make all the men wish that she was theirs. Not once did she doubt it. Already young Bolond had shown his interest and Sigi had made no attempts to turn him away. In fact, she'd tease him mercilessly and it only worsened as her body filled out over the years. Bolond had become love struck, following her around like a puppy on a leash...rather humorous for a man of his size. But Sigi had a way with everyone in their clan. She'd immediately captured everyone's hearts, just like she'd captured hers the day she and her husband had found her abandoned in the wood as a wee babe in a basket.

"Well, go on," Sigi's mother encouraged. She stood up, long dark hair streaked with gray flowing down her back. "Put it on, I know you want to. It won't be long anyway."

With a happy squeal, Sigi grabbed at the dress and threw clutched it tightly against her chest. She spun around and then laid it down before she reached behind herself and began unfastening her dress. Her mother moved around her and helped. Tiny giggles erupted forth as she looked upon the already loosened laces. She shook her head and smiled. Ah, young love!

Not wasting any time, the moment her dress was undone, Sigi let it slide off her slender body and fall into a heap on the floor. She stepped out of it without much care and immediately pulled on the dress she'd admired ever since she was a child. The thing fit her perfectly, flattering her curves and accentuating her features. How she loved it! The gown swept along the floor, dusting it gently as she moved across the room to look at herself in the mirror.

"You look beautiful, darling," Sigi's mother stated proudly.

"Albert will love this!" Sigi exclaimed and then reached for the sash that would accent the dress and make it plain she was a gypsy, one of her clan forever and always. The bright colors were lovely next to the creamy white of the satin, catching the light of the sun as it filtered into the small room.

"I'm not sure you will wear it long," Sigi's mother teased. She thought about the loosened laces of the dress her daughter had just been wearing.

"Oi, mama!" Sigi whined, but her smile never left her face. She let her fingers run through her golden hair, shimmering like spun gold upon her head. Her mother walked up behind her and began to brush it. Sigi sighed contentedly.

Just then, the door swung open and some of the other girls entered the tiny space. Sigi turned and smiled at them all. It was just like everyone to be there to celebrate and support. One girl got to work making a small snack, while another took over doing Sigi's hair. Her mother sat back and just watched on, her cheeks pink and her eyes bright with happiness. Another girl went to find matching shoes and still another began to gather together small accessories to put the final touches on the beautiful bride to be. Oh yes, Sigi would be the envy of all. Bolond would be cross and Albert would be speechless!

~~~

Ava could feel the heat, the tension. It was thick, causing her vision to blur as her head swum and her heart pounded. She could already taste Clive on her lips from his previous kiss and she could by the gravelly sound of his voice that if they didn't stop, he'd easily devour her and she'd have no issue letting him! Her face felt warm as a dull ache throbbed between her legs...such thoughts! It was a good thing her brother had skulked off to god knew where. She hoped he stayed away. Far away. She didn't need him ruining this.

With a gentle nod, Ava swallowed. So many thoughts and feelings were rushing to the forefront. She was afraid she'd shatter if she moved, but she dared to take a small breath, her eyes glancing down at the pin on her breast. "A-all right," she whispered, though her dark eyes stared into Clive's. Carefully, she pulled away and when she felt herself settle, she made quick work of clearing the table and putting away the preserves.

When everything was in order, Ava walked over to Clive and reached out her hand. She longed to feel his palm slide against hers as just the smallest of touches would do for now. She bit down on her lower lip, the bit of flesh trembling as she waited for him to take her hand, seize the moment and venture into Kaland for their outing. Of course, she had to be on the look out for Albert. He'd be furious if he knew she was entangling herself with anyone from the carnival. He barely permitted her time with anyone outside of it, but at least those sorts were left behind. A secret tryst now and then was all she could spare. But it was lonely and she hated it. Besides there'd always been another she'd wished would come calling.

Though never had she ever expected him to see through the charade, her carefully crafted masks. It had been a fanciful dream, a little girl's game of pretend only now it was real. He was here—warm blood and hot breath—looking into her eyes.

"I trust you to find the finest fruit, dear jibber-jabber, my fruit picker," Ava then said breaking the silence, her hand still outstretched. "My Clive."

~~~

The sun was hot and it made Magali scowl. She longed for the wind, the feel of the ocean spray as it stung her skin. But, she'd get neither with her sails in disarray. A soft growl rumbled deep in her throat. Fucking trees got in the way. How was she to know they'd be there when she turned the ship hard left? The damned caravan she'd been stalking knew the roads better than she did and when they turned the corner of the ridge...She heaved a heavy sigh and grit her teeth.

"I'll gut Sam later," Maggie whispered, a cruel smile playing on her lips. The guy didn't need to remind her about what had happened to the damned sails. She remembered! The git!

As Maggie walked toward the strange train of trailers in the distance, she saw a few sparse trees cropping up. At least she'd get a bit of respite from the sun. She looked up into the blue sky, her blue eyes narrowing as she shielded them. Her hand moved to her hip and her fingers gently caressed the handle of the sword at her hip. The metal was smooth and reassuring. Looking back toward colorful train, she noticed movement.

"What the..." Maggie whispered, a smirk crossing her lips. "So that's how they play?" She caught sight of something dark moving in the distance, though she noticed a man in white moving her way. Did these people take her for an amateur? She was Magali the Maliciious! Shaking her head, she continued her confident stride toward the gleaming man in white. When she was standing before him, she turned her gaze toward the dark shadow she saw in the distance, her eyes connecting with it as she gave it a coy smile and then a wink. Turning back to the white man, she shifted her stance, her hip jutting forward. "Really now," she said, a hint of arrogance dripping from the words. "If you want to talk...do so. But call off your cavalry." Again, she turned toward the shadow and again, she winked.

~~~

His words were unlike anything she'd ever heard uttered! Most certainly she'd never heard such profane ramblings in public let alone in private. Though, Ginny felt her insides twist at the thought of possibly being found out for the reading she did when she managed a moment. Oh, this was what led her astray, what heightened her curiosity and...her eyes drifted to Chins' sword and she gasped. Indeed it was erect and quite blunt as it twitched and swayed with each utterance. The crowd cheered and she felt her face grow warm, her breath catching in her throat.

"Sir, I..." Ginny stuttered, her hand in the clown's as he looked upon her with hungry eyes and a smiling face. Her entire body felt warm and the cheers grew louder, thundering in her ears. She glanced at the staring eyes and smiled weakly before looking back at Chins. "I...I accept your invitation," she said, earning another round of applause. Biting down on her lower lip, she feared that word would quickly spread. Oh, she'd never be allowed back at church. Not now. Not ever. It was one thing to hide books, but..."Did you say 'carnival'?" she suddenly asked, arching a brow, her worry nearly forgotten as intrigue slowly replaced it.

~~~

"Hey!" Campbell protested when the apple was snatched from her loose grip and juggled about. She watched the painted man, her head tilted slightly as he performed his little act. A small crowd began to gather, fits of laughter erupting in between bouts of applause. She smiled and glanced over at an angry merchant who eyed her menacingly, though she only shrugged playfully in his direction.

When the silly man performed his final feat and the merchant stormed off in a huff, he gripped her arm firmly and pulled her over to a nearby alley.

"Foldia?" Campbell laughed, pushing at her dark hair. She giggled sweetly as she studied the clown. "Hysteria?" she then went on to ask, her brows furrowing. "Whatever are you talking about?"

Honestly, Campbell's day was getting stranger and stranger. Perhaps she'd spent too much time in the basket. Maybe the hunger she felt rising in her empty belly was causing her to have delusions, hallucinations. Just then, her tummy rumbled and her cheeks reddened. But this clown seemed sincere despite the silly grin painted on his face. Just what was he on about? From the corner of her eye, she saw a looming shadow skulk by—the merchant. She turned to look his way and smiled causing him to grumble and stomp off once again.

Perhaps this funny man was right. She needed to sweeten her deals.

"Explain, good sir. If I'm to be your lovely assistant, shouldn't I know what this hysteria is? Especially if there's a chance I might suffer such maladies." Campbell gave the clown a look daring him to be forthright, to speak plain when so many hid behind false niceties that only dulled the truth at hand. "By the way," she continued. "I'm Campbell. Pleased to meet you, boss."

~~~

Her entire body was shaking, trembling almost violently as her sex spasmed over and over again. Cal's fingers, his...oh, it had been warm and wet and lovely! It had all been magic and she longed to feel such things again. But only with him. Oh god, only him. She couldn't bear another working on her now, the idea making her tummy twist into knots.

"Cal...Cal..." Felicity whispered as Cal instructed her to sit up and lean back against the curtain. She was breathless, craving closeness. And the idea of his arms encircling her, holding her and cradling her close more than appealed. She welcomed the idea and immediately situated herself, letting her body lean against his, hard and warm.

How Felicity longed to see the man that had given her such pleasure, such exquisite rapture unlike any dream ever could. Something had happened between them in that moment. Something far bigger than the experiment or science or anything she was sure the Doctor had ever dared dream up.

Felicity nuzzled close to Cal though that dreadful curtain barred the way. "Hold me," she whispered, inching closer still. "I...I feel it, Cal," she admitted. "There's more to this work than we were told." She paused a moment, her body twisting slightly. How she longed to look into Cal's face, peer into eyes that had made her own open so wide. "I'm sure of it. I want to explore it all with you. Just you."

Her eyes dampened slightly as her chest suddenly tightened. Felicity hadn't expected such raw emotions to take hold, but they were. Remembering Miss Lucas' words that no reactions were wrong, she let the tears fall and the smile on her lips grow.

Albert made it down the steps, and his sash swung in a dashing way, he thought. He would have to see about using a sash for his act- it was a dashing addition to his person. He put his hand against the side of the trailer and steadied himself. The ale warmed him and made him glad, and fired his passion as well. This pretty Sigi was in for a rollicking romp indeed. The waiting had him boiling with desire.

He was swept into a general dance to an accordion, then a circle formed and Sigi’s father danced in the center, spinning and stomping his feet. A rough dance with little finesse, but joyful. The onlookers clapped in time to the music and slapped his back when he got close to the edges of the circle. Another took his place and Albert watched the feet, memorized the style. He was good at dancing, and if he could just get the hang of this one, he’d show the gypsy people how it was done.

He had almost learned it when someone behind him pushed him into the circle, and he bowed and began to dance. He was doing well, the crowd laughed and slapped his back as he travelled the edge of the circle. Bolond was there, and threw a punch, but the wirewalker jerked back just in time, to the delight of the crowd. Every revolution of the circle Albert dodged Bolond’s punch and it came to be part of the music, the dance, a cheer rising every time Albert survived a swing. Even Bolond began to enjoy the game, although he would have also enjoyed hitting the infuriating man.

Albert was just preparing to duck another punch when he saw something shining out of the corner of his eye, bright. He stopped, mouth open when he saw her. Sigi in a white dress and flowing sash standing at the door of a trailer. A collective sigh went up from the crowd as they turned to see what Albert saw. She was an angel, their love would be celebrated in poems and rhymes, the envy of the ages. Albert’s face broke into a smile and his eyes shone. Bolond finally landed his punch.

The crowd caught Albert before he could soil his fine clothes in the dirt. An old lady, no taller than his elbow walked up and kicked Bolond in the shin, then proceeded to berate him as she chased him out of the crowd.

To Albert’s mind, it was the sight of Sigi that had knocked him over. The blow was glancing and he let the crowd lift him up over their heads. He was relaxed and loose-tongued. He had promised once, with a barrister as witness, to pay a pretty tart’s debts in this tipsy state of mind once, and he had vowed never to drink again—and he hadn’t for two days. He opened his arms to Sigi as he sat on someone’s shoulders. The crowd was pressing toward the flowery gazebo. “I love you!” he yelled. He loved everybody. He gestured at Sigi with both hands open. “I love you!”

The crowd cheered and set him in the gazebo.

——

He was her Clive. It had been so long since he belonged to anyone, that Clive had to repeat it, to say it himself to make it real. “I’m your Clive,” he said, in a quiet way, trying it out. Then he smiled and kissed Ava’s hand. “I’m your Clive!” he said.

He took her hand and marveled as they walked, that their strides matched, their hands fit together like nesting dolls. The sun was warm but not burning and the road to Kaland was an easy walk. Clive studied Ava’s porcelain face. She was such a beautiful creature, he could hardly breathe. “My Ava,” he said as they crossed the little river on the stone bridge. She had depths that he could only guess at, some turbulence under her smooth demeanor that he meant to dip into as she gave him leave. He would drink the depths of this woman.

There was a loud commotion at the gypsy camp, dancing and cheering. Clive could see them in the distance across the field, some revelry. A party perhaps, or a revel for some gypsy holiday. A yell would carry across the distance on the breeze, then disappear, drowned out by the sound of the river or some calling bird, then snatches of dancing music. He stopped, watching over the distance. “There’s a merry bunch,” he said, holding Ava’s hand. He laughed as one man was lifted over the others. “Dance with me, Ava, to far away music!” He put his arm around her waist in the road and turned with her, too slowly for the music, but moved by the faint strains nonetheless.

——

Szem almost dropped his rifle when the breathtaking woman looked right into his eye, like she was close enough to smell the clove in his hair oil. She winked at him, and he knew she was not afraid. Deities, but she was a beautiful! He blinked his eyes hard and told himself that Cordelia was his, that he found her dark beauty the one that surpassed all others. The sword reminded him of Filo, in any case, and he set his mouth against the far woman’s charms.

——

The Doctor sipped the last of his water and set the glass on the ground precisely between them.

“I am Doctor Manuel,” he said. He gestured at the colorful trailers and the rising red and white sail of the Big Top, “And this is my circus.”

He put his hands behind his back and smiled at the pirate. This was indeed the one whose sketch he had seen in Faraviata. The poster had said not to allow her within a stone’s throw and here he was, within reach of the tip of her sword.

“My cavalry, as you call him, is no such thing. He is a sharp-shooter of the finest order, but I believe he and horses are not on terms one would describe as ‘cordial.’ Still, you’ll forgive the precaution, I’m sure, as you well know, I am at a disadvantage when it comes to weapons of the bladed varieties. If we are to speak as equals, we must represent equal threat… or equal trust. I will let you decide those terms. But until you decide, here is a small present.” He looked up into the tree then, a signal.

The bullet whizzed through the leaves and severed the stem of a red apple too high for casual thieves to bother with. The Doctor caught it and polished it carefully with a perfectly white handkerchief and handed it to the pirate.

The Doctor rocked back on his heels. If he’d ever seen mania brought on by hysteria, this woman had it. But this was no therapeutic session, and the thought of bringing such a dangerous person into his therapy tent was clearly madness.

“Enlighten me, Lady Pirate, how can I serve you?”

——

Chins smiled broadly at his audience. The lady had accepted! And in the midst of the cheers, he saw reluctance transform into eagerness. The carnival itself was of some fascination to her.

"Indeed I did allow the word 'carnival' to escape my eager lips, lady, but I believe I have not heard your name escape yours. Who is this marvel I am soon to eat? Eat along with, of course, my lady, I mean to feast on you. With you, begging your pardon. My excitement protrudes improperly."

He took her hand and kissed it, then wrapped it around his elbow and escorted her through the beaming faces in the direction of the carnival.

"I will show you the carnival indeed, my Lady," he said as they walked arm in arm, in a leisurely fashion, "I'll show you each pole and peg of it. Every creaking trailer spring and rocking bed. And I hope to see wonders and treasures in turn, my Lady. I’ve a hard spot for soft spots, you might say."

----

Mojo squinted one eye at the girl, then the other. She was a puzzle, and no mistake. Reckless one moment and innocent the other, and according to long experience, a woman that asked forthrightly for honesty was not to be trusted with it. She might disappear into any box or bottle that suited her and he’d never find her again. He handed her the rest of his apple.

Still, she did owe him, at least a little, and perhaps if he were forthcoming in the locomotive, he’d get her in the caboose, as Chins was fond of saying.

“My name is Mojo,” he said, with a shallow bow, “And I am a clown, a student of the female form, and a reprobate of the highest level. I am not to be trusted with wine, with money, or with the daughters of aldermen or farmers and you should make yourself scarce immediately if your father is an alderman or a farmer. And if you are a daughter, well, it goes without saying that I will be a very bad influence on you indeed. Can you start immediately, or do you need to steal something to eat first? Your stomach, excuse me for noticing, is complaining.”

He took her arm and walked through the streets skirting the market, keeping a sharp eye out for the fruit merchant. He had been paid, but he had been humiliated too, and sometimes the copper didn’t make up for both the apple and the shame.

“I’ll introduce you to Dr. Manuel,” he said, “He’s a man with vision and taste and I’m sure he’d be able to squeeze you into a small space in the Big Top."

“As for the matter of hysteria,” he said, carefully, “Don’t you find that there are seasons in life, days when every word that is said, every baker boy’s lips and every horseman’s thigh fires your loins? That a throbbing burning causes you to sigh, to pant, to wish for some ecstatic release? That is the hysteria. A most delightful malady that I have studied in myself at length, but which contains mysteries that a person as flexible as yourself may find within her capacity to demystify.”

He had his hand around her shoulder as they walked. She did not answer him immediately, so he stopped suddenly and took her by both shoulders and looked into her eyes. “Plainly spoken,” he said, “I want to know if you can lick your own snatch when the itch takes you. I’d be a rapt audience to such a feat.”

——

Cal held Felicity, her affectionate words blooming in his heart. He forgot his face, the frights and fainting he could cause just by his mere existence. For a moment he forgot.

The curtain reminded him though. He could never show her his face. She would vanish, horrified that she had opened herself to a monster. His hands, though. They were well-formed and nimble. He slid them under the edge of the curtain, smoothed them blindly up Felicity’s belly and he let one hand rest there. With the other, he covered her breast. He held her, the skin of his hands touching her skin, and burning with her heat. He was not allowed to love, of course. He was an abomination and what would it say about a woman if she loved him, disfigured as he was? Only that she was unnaturally twisted in her mind as he was in his body.

“We will explore, Felicity. You and me. Our only sorrow will be the curtain, but everything else will be joy.”

She began to cry, and Cal felt his own eyes well up as her body shuddered again in a different way, equally as beautiful as the crisis, but gentle and close. He did not expect it, but her body melted into his with her shaking, and he held her, her skin under his fingers. He could hold this woman forever.

“I love you,” he said, and he could not unsay it. The forgetting had tricked him cruelly and now he had stepped into a confession that was another man’s by right. He deserved no such life.

“I am a trespasser, though,” he said, quickly, “and I will not speak like that again, if you will forgive me.”

Sigi scowled the moment she saw Bolond's fist connect with Albert's jaw. That settled it. He'd only get one dance later on instead of the two. To think she'd even engaged the notion of letting that brute lay his hands on her for an extra dance. Well, that taught her to feel sorrow and pity for such a man. This was her day, not his! Oh, he'd get a tongue lashing later and it wouldn't be the sort he'd like and have dreams about either! She was fuming! But, her anger ebbed quickly as her eyes flitted to her Albert, his arms outstretched, that lovely lopsided smile plastered all over his face. Oh, he was more than ready, words spilling out of his mouth for the entire clan to hear. She felt her face grow warm, but she decided it was for the best. It would only make her look prettier as the festivities wore on.

"Of course you do!" Sigi shouted, her mother giving her a nudge that made her wince. "And I you, my darling!" she then added, which earned her a smug smile from the older woman.

"Better, dear. One day you'll be a refined lady," Sigi's mother giggled.

"Oh, I hope not!" Sigi retorted, her own laughter nearly smothering her words. Her mother proceeded to blush and she hurried Sigi out into the crowd.

Sigi smiled brightly, her blue eyes glittering like jewels and her hair shimmering like finely spun gold. She could hardly believe this day had come. She'd found her man, the one with whom she'd spend eternity! Her body ached for him and her heart pounded as her blood pumped wildly in her veins. She longed to run with this man through the trees and along the stream...oh the adventures they'd surely have together!

Everyone gasped in awe as Sigi made her way through the yard. People stepping aside—parting a sea of smiling faces—as she walked amongst friends and family, her clan. The music slowed, grew soft, almost faint. It was a steady pulse, the true blood of the gypsies as they went about their lives on the open road. Her eyes fixed on the erected gazebo and just how handsome Albert looked as he stood there waiting. Hushed whispers filled her ears, urging her on, building up her excitement. Oh yes, this was her day of days!

When Sigi finally reached Albert, she looked up into his eyes and held out her hands. She could hear her mother blubbering amidst the soft hum of chatter. Turning her head, she gave the older woman a glare. "Mama," she hissed before turning back to Albert, her smile returning, bright as ever. "You like your party?" she whispered to Albert. "It's only just begun. This part is just for her," she gestured toward her mother. "And him," she then nodded toward her father. Suddenly a smirk crept over her lips. "And...him." At that, she gave Bolond a look. She dared him to ruin things further. "Later will be for us." It was a promise and one she intended to keep.

Sigi slid her hands into Albert's. Immediately, the crowd cheered and the music picked up again. An elderly man began tying ribbons around the couples' hands. Sigi couldn't help but giggle.

~~~

There was something to be said in her defiance. The freedom she felt, that weight that was suddenly lifted. She craved to feel more and all of it with her Clive—the one and only man who knew how to look beyond each mask she was forced to wear. She almost wasn't sure how to be or exist without them, but with Clive by her side, she wanted to learn. She inhaled deeply, drinking in the scent of flowers and grass. Clive's hand in her own felt warm and right, their fingers entwined like puzzle pieces meant for only each other.

Ava strained her eyes slightly as they neared a small gypsy camp. Their brightly colored wagons weren't difficult to miss neither was their lively music. She'd heard tales that such people often found reasons to host festivals. She supposed living a life of constant wandering would do that to anyone. This was the first time their own carnival had ever come this close to such a gypsy clan. Perhaps it would be good for business to have such merry folk about.

"I...I'm not very good," Ava admitted rather shyly, surprising herself as the words came tumbling out. But her arms moved about Clive's neck, while his hands circled her waist. She felt safe in his embrace, her body pressed close to his as they swayed to their own music despite the jolly tune that drifted in from the nearby camp. Her dark eyes looked deeply into his. "What do you suppose they're celebrating?" she asked.

~~~

Ugh, leave it to this insipid man to get technical! Magali rolled her eyes and made a gesture with her hands letting him know that she got it and was on the verge of annoyed. Of course, she wasn't being literal with her words. Obnoxious man! Why he needed to point it out was just infuriating! Heaving a sigh, she narrowed her blue eyes a bit and thought about removing her sword just for show. Maybe it would make this little man tumble backwards and fall on his ass. Now, wouldn't that be a laugh! However, it would hardly allow her the chance to mend the damn sails and that was what she'd set out to do. She could view Kaland out of the corner of her eye and she knew she'd have better luck with the circus show than the denizens of town.

"Serve me," Magali huffed. "We'll see." She eyed the water and took some steps toward it. Without a care, she reached down, picked it up and held it out toward this Dr. Manuel. She then looked up at the doctor's 'cavalry', winked and held up the glass to him. Not delaying any further, she brought the glass of water to her lips and drank down half of the liquid before setting it back down on the ground once again. "Ahh, better," she sighed. "Now then. You said you'd serve me." She laughed heartily at the very idea. "The sails on my airship need mending," she began. "Among other things," she added softly, inwardly wincing. "But we'll start with the sails. Think you can help me with that?"

~~~

This man—clown—had struck hard upon her weakness. Ginny had indeed seen those great tents go up just the day before and her curiosity had been piqued. She'd always harbored secret interests, things she kept to herself and dared to explore when no one was looking...but it was exhausting keeping up the charade. On one side, she felt that anguish that she'd done wrong, so very wrong. Yet, on the other, she had those innermost cravings, yearnings burning so bright and hot that she could barely hide them, not even from herself. It was becoming harder and harder each passing day. Oh, she should've known the moment a clown stepped forward! Perhaps this truly was a sign! But, she couldn't help herself, not when her greatest curiosity was at hand! She'd read books! She'd seen pictures!

And now this man, one who went to church at sunrise, but wore zinc and paint when not darkening its doors. Oh, it was maddening! It was... "Virginia Gower, sir," Ginny prattled on. "Though please, call me Ginny." She blushed quite prettily, her arm tucked neatly in his. Her dark eyes glanced his way and so much wonder filled her mind. "You'll truly show me everything about the circus?" she asked. "Every...detail?" she swallowed hard, her mind whirring with excitement. "I want nothing left out. Not a single thing."

~~~

"Ah, of course," Campbell muttered as Mojo—her newly acquired boss—went on to explain in rather intricate detail. She didn't bother to hide the smile on her lips as she watched him, her eyes fixed on his mouth as he spoke. She wondered if he knew how the one corner lifted a bit higher than the other. It was rather cute and more than distracting, especially with the brightly colored paint. She blinked a few times to help keep herself focused and then pat her rumbling tummy. "So it is," she stated.

Mojo had handed Campbell the apple and so she took a large bite out of it, her eyes moving to his. He certainly had a lot to divulge in one very long breath. Then again, they were pressed for time. That merchant didn’t seem too happy that she was still lingering about. She didn't fault great oaf. After all, she did technically steal his apple.

"So that's hysteria, is it," Campbell said thoughtfully after swallowing down the juicy fruit. "And this'll do just fine," she added. "For now." The weight of Mojo's hands on her shoulders hardly bothered her. In fact, she liked that they stood so close, eyes boring into each other as they spoke candidly about things that would make most peoples' faces turn white. She lived for this sort of brutal honesty, a commodity she'd yet to find. Ever. "I wondered what it was called. Many nights I've let my fingers assist, but I've never been sure if I was doing something right or wrong." She shrugged then. "So, would you consider yourself rather well educated in this malady then?" she pressed, he gaze suddenly going distant. "I've never tried licking my snatch, boss. Do you think it's something I could do? If you're as educated as you boast, perhaps you could show me how I should go about that." There was a pause and she sucked in a sharp breath, her heart beating twice before she spoke again. "Then, you'd get to watch, boss."

~~~

The words were seared into Felicity's mind as Cal spoke them, his hands gentle and warm on her body as he held her close and intimately. She could stay with him all day, all night! Just letting him explore her body in any way he desired...science be damned. She hardly even cared about the experiments, though she knew she shouldn't allow herself to feel that way, especially since this was only her first time letting Cal run any of his test on her. Just what would the Doctor say if he knew what she was thinking! Her feelings would betray her and he'd drop her off at the next town.

She'd never get to be with Cal again.

Such thoughts bordered painful. Felicity couldn't bear the idea of being separated from this man, this scientific expert who had played her body so beautifully, so masterfully. She was his to explore and his alone. She wanted no other now, but how to explain? They'd have to stay quiet, at least for now.

"Th-there's nothing to forgive," Felicity mumbled through her sniffles. "Hold me close and say it again." How she meant every word. She wanted her body shivering under his touches time and again and she knew it would be many times over. Her green eyes glanced at the dreaded curtain that barred the way between them, keeping just enough distance that she felt so far away, yet it was so thin that a simple tug would render them pressed together in a passionate heat that made her body ache of its own accord. She nuzzled against him and wished that the curtain would just come down. Why did it even have to be there? All she wanted was to gaze into Cal's eyes, look upon his face and hear him say such words to her again as he kissed her lips, her face. But she refused to dwell on it. Already, her emotions were raw and ragged, bursting forth at the seams. "What other explorations do you have planned, Cal?" she asked, her hands moving to touch his, fingers entwining and enjoying the heat of skin on skin. Without thinking, she brought his one hand up to her lips and brushed her lips against his knuckles. "I...I do not want the Doctor. Just you. Don't forget your promise."

Albert stood with Sigi’s hands in his. He had to say this for the gypsies, they sure knew how to throw a party. And if this was how they greeted a gentleman caller for a lark, he wondered what they’d do for a really big celebration… like his birthday.

Sigi’s mother was grinning from ear to ear and weeping at the same time. He had made quite the impression on these people, but weeping would bring them down and this was supposed to be a celebration! He winked at her and smiled.

“This is the best party in the history of parties,” Albert said. The party now, the delicious girl for later. This would be a day he would never forget.

Sigi held his hands and he gripped tight, letting his eyes travel from her eyes to her mouth to her breasts. The dress was stunning on her. He wondered how many buttons there were to undo on it. Hundreds, he hoped.

The old man spoke, some kind of incantation. The ale warmed Albert to his fingertips and whatever autumn ritual this was required some kind of response from everyone- Sigi’s parents repeated a few words the man said, Sigi repeated some words, and then the man looked at Albert. He had this. He could join in with the best of them.

"Eu sunt soțul ei,” the man said.

Albert repeated, with gusto, “Yew soont sotul, yay!”

The cheer of the crowd gratified him. He beamed at them, but kept coming back to Sigi’s shining eyes. He leaned forward to kiss her, but the old man held him back with one hand. The crowd laughed, and the old man smiled broadly. He said a short phrase, withdrew his hand and nodded to Albert.

Sigi’s mouth was like apples, like apple wine, and when the kiss was done, the old man held a pewter goblet between them with dark wine for them to share. Albert sipped and he felt his passion grow. He sipped again, then offered the wine to Sigi.

——

Clive smiled at Ava. “I have seen you dance the wire countless times,” he said, turning her around, keenly aware of the warmth of her hand in his, the warmth of her body where they touched. “I think you do yourself a disservice to talk so,” he said, but his smile widened, “But let us dance a straight line as you are used to doing, straight across this field and find out if gypsy folk are welcoming of love-drunk strangers.”

He put his arm around her back and swayed with her down a short bank onto the wide grass. The music had faded and all eyes were on a decorated platform. They crossed the field at a leisurely pace. The merrymakers shouted together sometimes, laughed, clapped at a ritual under the gazebo and as they approached, Clive’s face broke into a grin. “A wedding!” he said. He could see the white gold of the bride’s hair and the broad shoulders of the groom, facing away from them, bent down to kiss his bride. “This is a piece of good luck, Ava darling, my Ava, my bird. Let’s help our chance neighbors in their happiness. I feel I have too much my own to keep inside me.”

They found a place at the edge of the crowd and the newly married couple shared the bridal cup.

——

Doctor Manuel was glad of Szem’s watchful eye. The pirate was impulsive and unpredictable, but she seemed content to leave his blood safely in his body, at least for now. And he was pleased that there was something that he had that she needed. The laws of negotiation could replace the cruder threat of force. This could be a way to generate wealth, not just forestall bloodshed.

“I have an excellent band of tentmakers that will make short work of any repairs you require. They can work in the air or on the ground, as you have need. I also have a fine needlewoman if you have apparel that needs making or mending. A corset, perhaps, to remember us by when you fly again?”

The doctor took a step toward her and picked up his water. He took a sip and continued. “Do you know what attracts me to a woman?” he said, conversationally. “The size of her purse and failing that, the size of the price on her head.” He sipped again. “I would be fascinated to know what you have to trade in return for the use of my string pullers? Something heavy, perhaps, and beautiful?”

——

Szem stared at the place the pirate’s breasts disappeared into her white bloused shirt. The doctor’s instructions, if it became, unfortunately, necessary to kill the woman, were to shoot her in the heart. A city would not pay a bounty for a mar-face corpse, no matter how beautiful the rest of her had been.

He wiped a drop of sweat from his forehead with his thumb. It was hot on the roof of the trailer with no shade. The pirate toasted him with the glass of cool water and he watched her lips touch the lip of the glass, the movement of her throat as she swallowed. Every detail of her movement entranced him.

He pinched his ear, hard, to settle the pounding of his heart. The woman was bewitching him. He had a woman of his own, mostly, and he needed no other.

——

"Ginny!" Chins said, delighted, "I've had fond acquaintance of a beverage by a similar name, and many memories both warm and painful, but we are ever friends when we meet again."

A hay-waggon trundled by and Chins hailed the driver as they walked.

"Good sir, I'm in desperate need of a ride on this lady. For this lady, I should say, if you are going southward and would like a friend inside the carnival when it opens tomorrow night."

"I'd not give a ride to such as you," the driver said, but grinned as he said it, "but if you are accompanying the lady for the protection of her virtue, I suppose it's only right that you accompany her."

"Thank you kindly," Chins said, and bowed, "The lady's virtue is in desperate need of protection at this very hour."

Chins swung Ginny up onto the back and he huffed his way up to sit on the trailing edge. They watched Kaland recede slowly.

"There's no use wearing out my feet with something useless as walking. I'll need them for dance later, I think."

The passed the gypsy camp, colorful and wild with some revelry, crossed the bridge over the little silver river, and as they approached the Carnival, Chins helped Ginny down from the waggon.

"Ask for Chins tomorrow evening," he called to the driver as he pulled away, "and you'll find you've saved three coppers!"

"I'll show you the mess trailer first, my dear Ginny, for lunch and fellowship, then we'll take turns pointing at what we want to see."

----

"This malady," Mojo said, "Is one which I have suffered gladly for many Springs, and I never tire of seeking cures both for myself and others. But to tell you true, I'd never forgive myself if I found the stopping of this sickness. It's why my face is painted sad. I long for healing and healing makes me long for sickness."

"As to your question about whether you were doing something right or wrong, I’m sure you can answer that better than I could. Was there a great shifting of the heavens and earth? Did your blood ignite up in your body like you were a gas lamp? Did you feel a great climax of sensation crash through you and leave you spent and peaceful? If not, then we have a very interesting afternoon ahead of us indeed.”

He pulled a second money bag out of his sock. The other had only the three coppers for Chins. The big man was his friend, but he would run a man out of money at his first opportunity.

“Here’s an inn, pretty,” he said, “What say I give you a demonstration of snatch licking and then we can order dessert.”

——

“I should not speak of love for you, though I do feel it,” Callum said, heedless of the great disaster that loomed if she should ever see his face. “You see, I am… I mean to say, I am not suitable for you, wonderful Felicity. I am a fr… fr…”

He had never been very embarrassed of it before, the show made him a sum of money and the work was not difficult. It was better than hiding in alleyways and stealing food from rats.

“I am a friend of the carnival,” he said finally, “And you are a lady, bred for better than myself. Still, it would break the rest of me to see anyone touch you as I touched you today."

Her lips were on his fingers. “What other explorations do you have planned, Cal?” she asked.

What explorations! “Given leave, I’d make every exploration possible, scientific or no. But the next one in the Doctor’s plan would make you no longer a maid. The book called it ‘deep palpitations,’ though it has nothing to do with hearts except that mine beats hard with the thought of it.”

Her lips against his fingers was the sweetest touch he had imagined. There would surely need to be another subject for that next experiment though, and his heart sank with it. It would be a chore indeed when he would much rather explore with Felicity.

The cheers and applause were all that Sigi needed. She welcomed Albert's lips against her own, but she wasn't about to let him taste too much...not yet! They still had wine to share! Her cheeks flushed as she brought the cup to her lips and drunk deeply of the red liquid held within. It warmed her throat as she swallowed it down, her blue eyes glistening as she watched her man grin at everyone adoringly. He was the picture of her perfection, her mother blubbering, while her father feigned indifference. But, she knew the big brute was ecstatic. For a brief moment, her eyes found Bolond, the great oaf sulking as she inched closer to her Albert, their breath mingling as she boldly nuzzled his neck.

There was another round of applause, a few harsh whispers that caused Sigi to turn her head. Some of the girls were certainly jealous and that only made her long to strut and preen, showing off the man who'd chosen her above all others. She knew he'd not be disappointed. They were destined lovers! She knew it the moment her eyes settled upon him and she saw him sitting there all forlorn in the depths of despair. He'd despair no more with her in his bed and by his side, guiding him through life like the best of gypsy women!

The wine was set down and the ribbons removed. Sigi gave Albert a coy glance as the music erupted and everyone began to dance. Even the man presiding gave a hearty chuckle and couldn't help but join in. Immediately, she grabbed Albert's hand and dragged him down into the crowd, her hands throwing his about her waist. "And now I'm all yours," she teased. "Almost!" She laughed and danced, her hands ruffling his hair as they moved through the crowd. Her skirt billowed on the breeze as the music played on, men and women swaying in time with every note and Bolond looking on with envy.

~~~

"The wire is much different than a floor, dear jibber-jabber," Ava said sweetly, her dark eyes bright and full of life. She moved in closer, enjoying the way their bodies felt as they moved together in perfect harmony. "I've learned my craft well, but there's much I don't know." It was another admission. Slowly she allowed her Clive to peel away each layer until he saw the vulnerable woman beneath. She wanted him to see her, needed him to and how she loved that he was daring enough to bother.

Ava gently leaned her head against Clive's shoulder, her fingers entwined with his. This was something she could easily get used to. She listened to the sweet and jolly melodies of the gypsy camp as they made their way nearer. When they'd crossed the small bridge, she looked up and saw the tiny crowd. Indeed, there was a wedding. What a joyous occasion and most certainly reason enough for music and festivity! She watched in awe as the people danced and laughed, enjoying the outdoors and company of friends, much like she was enjoying her stolen moments with Clive. As she watched, her eyes settled upon the happy couple, her breath catching fast as her eyes suddenly widened.

Gripping Clive's hand tightly, Ava turned to face him. "We should go," she pleaded, her voice going low. She stared at her brother as the crowd of gypsies circled about him and a girl with hair like spun gold. "Perhaps there's dancing to be had in the establishments of Kaland," she offered, her eyes worried as she looked over at Albert. He seemed preoccupied, but she hardly wanted to chance him seeing her out, possibly getting upset...none of that appealed. "I...I'd feel better if found something together there."

~~~

Maggie squinted as she looked up at the sky, her expression turning thoughtful But, she was still quite mindful of the doctor and his 'cavalry'. She snorted inwardly at how technical this silly man seemed to be. How obnoxious he must seem to everyone who had to deal with him! Well, now that she knew, she'd have Sam do it from this moment forward. It would be part of his penance for having made her feel like an ass. So what if she'd cut the turn to hard and tore the damned sails herself! They were trying to get a payload! They were fucking pirates! It was their calling to take when the opportunity arose...wasn't it? Well, not always, but when the guy running the wagon was an arrogant prick, she sure as hell was going to rob the bastard and take him for all he was worth! It was the least she could do to make him feel the sting of slight he inflicted on everyone else!

Looking squarely at the doctor, Maggie chuckled. "Wonderful. Have your people talk to my people and let's get things going. I'm a girl who likes to get things done and done promptly." Her blue eyes turned toward the shadow she saw watching on in the distance, her lips giving him a satisfied smirk. "I'm sure we can come to arrangement that benefits everyone. Hrmm..." She turned her gaze from the shadow and looked at the doctor. "Perhaps your...infantry? Do you prefer that word to cavalry since he's not on a horse?" She laughed heartily at her words, her one hand resting on the hilt of her sword that rested against her curvaceous hip. "Perhaps he can join me on my ship, take a look around. Maybe he might find something your Doctor-ship might find worthy of your liking."

Maggie gave a low curtsy, her eyes not leaving the doctor as she sunk down toward the ground. As she rose to full height she looked past the peculiar man and gave the shadow a wink. She then turned on her heels and began walking back in the way from which she'd come.

"Well?" Maggie called, glancing over her shoulder. She gave a rough flick of her shimmering hair. "I haven't all day and I'm certain you don't either."

~~~

A flutter of excitement took hold of Ginny as Chins the Clown helped her onto the hay wagon. This was the first time she'd rode on such a thing, her family would be shocked and embarrassed, no doubt! But, a part of her found it to be a grand adventure. Was this part of the test? She couldn't help but wonder, but she decided that maybe this was what it was like had she been born of lower station and perhaps she could better relate to the salt of the Earth now that she was experiencing such things...it wasn't her fault if she found benefit and joy from it, was it?

Ginny averted her gaze and decided it was not.

The ride was short and Chins was more than attentive. His words were rough around the edges, but she was able to pick out the sweetness amidst the fumbling and bumbling. Truly, this was the man she'd seen at church earlier on that day. Never would she have suspected such a person was hidden beneath! Though there was a thrill and excitement knowing such deviance...no, no. She refused to admit that this was any such thing! No! But, it was thrilling all the same!

When Ginny got off the wagon, she looked at Chins, eager to see what he had to show her. She'd always longed to go to the carnival, to see the sights, hear the sounds. Now, she'd get a personal tour with her very own tour guide. "I'm quite ready," she said sweetly, almost shyly. She placed her hand in the crook of his arm and let him escort her through the yard.

Large tents had already been erected, large red and white stripes smiling down against a pretty sky. Ginny closed her eyes and took a breath. She imagined what it might be like later on when the barker lured in the crowds, the performers milling about, ready to put on a show or two. The colors, the sounds, the smells! Oh, it must be so wonderful, the energy so alluring, so captivating! She wanted more, needed more. She wanted to see it all. Blushing deeply, she looked to Chins and smiled.

"Show me everything," Ginny pleaded. "I can already imagine what it must be like when the lamps are lit."

~~~

Campbell eyed Mojo, her blue eyes sparkling as she listened to him explain. "Shift, really boss?" She bit down on her lower lip contemplating just how that could actually happen. "Don't think I've ever experienced shifting of that nature, but I've felt my blood ignite a fair bit." She smiled sheepishly. "My hands are pretty dexterous, my fingers nimble." She sighed a little, clearly disappointed in herself to some degree. "Can't say for my tongue though, but now you have me curious, boss." She brought her finger up and tapped her lip. "These sensations you speak of sound pretty intense. I know for a fact I haven't ever felt spent or like I've crashed, hrmm... As an expert, you think you can remedy that, boss? You said yourself you don't want cure the malady, right?" She gave him a look that dared him to tell her otherwise. "So give me that demonstration, boss. I think that's only right." She placed her hands on her hips and jutted out her lower lip as she looked up into his eyes. "Besides," she added. "I want dessert."

~~~

Felicity closed her eyes and continued to brush her lips against Cal's knuckles. "I don't care if you're a friend to the carnival." She shifted slightly. "I left my home for a reason and...and it led me to you." Her face warmed as the words left her mouth. She could hardly believe she was saying such things to a man she barely knew, hadn't even seen. But, she couldn't help what she was feeling.

Slowly, Felicity turned to face the dreadful black curtain that separated the two of them. She wasn't sure if Cal could see her or not, but she pretended that he could. She looked in the place where she decided his face might be and smiled shyly.

"Please, Cal," Felicity begged. "Use me for the next experiments." She knew what it was she was asking. "I know I'll no longer have my maidenhood and...I'd rather lose that to you than anyway else, even if it's through experiments. Please, give this to me. Please." Her voice was sincere, her words heartfelt and genuine. "Consider this me giving myself to you, Cal." She looked away from the curtain, suddenly terrified of the thoughts and feelings stirring inside. The idea that Cal could touch another burned her soul. She didn't like it, feared it. "Please Cal...no other. Not for me, not for you." She sniffled unexpectedly as her eyes began to water again. Never had she expected just one experiment to have such profound effects on her emotionally.

But it was.

"I'm yours, Cal. I want the deep palpitations. I want them from you."

She was almost all his. Albert’s wine-softened brain wondered if the revelry was going to take much longer, as fun as it was, he hadn’t walked all the way over here for mere dancing. It had its advantages though. He had found that it never hurt to soften up a few new smart looking girls when the chance arose and these gypsy girls were all lovely dark things with black hair and passionate eyes. Sigi danced in front of them specially and he made as dashing a figure as ever swung a sash. He flashed smiles at one, twirling her hair across her mouth, and winked at another as she danced with her hands over her head. He’d never run out of girls with these folk.

The dance took them away from the young women, around the crowd, and Albert found his eyes on Sigi again, one hand feeling the way her body moved, pressed into her back, and the other playing a caressing dance with her hand, held out. But such dancing was meant to lead somewhere, preferably private, and with a great deal of bedding.

“I want to toss your heels, pretty,” he said, and lowered his hand to squeeze her bottom through the flowing dress. He left his hand there. “You have me burning, bursting, and I’ve got an animal under this sash that wants to make you squeal.”

——

Clive wondered what Ava could mean when she said there were things she didn’t know. “I have no craft at all,” he said, “Unless the constant exercising of my tongue is craft.” He hoped to dance her into the circle of the gypsy crowd if they were granted leave, and he was looking for some small break in the crowd to draw her through it.

Her hand gripped his tightly then, and her eyes became wide. Her warm demeanor left her. She wanted to leave.

“Dancing in Kaland, my dear Ava?” he said, “There’ll be no dancing so merry as this, nor music as bright.” He turned longingly to the celebration. The happy couple spun in the circle, the golden haired girl, the dashing man, smiling, perfect teeth under a thin mustache…

“Hell’s billows! It’s Albert!”

He pulled Ava behind a trailer, out of sight of the dancers, and her eyes pleaded to leave, almost as though she were in danger, as though she needed to escape.

“You’re right,” he said, his mouth dry, “There’ll be a merry dance at a bar room with good enough company.”

They set off quickly across the field, and as the music faded behind them, they slowed to a comfortable walk. “Deities, but I didn’t think…” Clive stopped talking, realizing that he hardly knew anything about the Sparrows. Ava was full of secrets and some of them must have barbs.

They reached the road, and Clive looked over his shoulder from time to time as they made for the town, but he noticed that Ava did not, as though some freezing basilisk were stalking her and she dared not meet its eye.

Then the gypsies started firing guns into the air, no doubt part of the celebration, but it made Clive wince and hurry his steps.

“My darling Ava,” he said, and had nothing else to say.

——

Szem watched the exchange through his scope, imagining the conversation. The pirate woman was relaxed, although when she put her hand on the hilt of her sword, his finger tightened on the trigger a little. A sword could flash fast, but a bullet was faster.

The conversation seemed genial enough though, and she glanced his way occasionally, her full lips twitching a smirk, her eye winking. Then she curtsied and turned to walk away. Szem had never seen a woman in pants like those before, leather, and tight. He watched her hips move as she walked away, every swing of her backside beckoned him. He watched until she went behind some trees, then pointed his scope at the Doctor. He summoned him.

Szem wrapped his rifle in its cloth and hung it on its pegs inside the trailer, then he met the Doctor on the road.

“She needs repairs,” the Doctor said, “and I’m sending the tent wranglers in an hour if there’s good coin to collect for it. She’s invited you graciously to visit her craft. Negotiate ten gold and she’ll have sewn sails by next week. Thirty gold will have her in the air tomorrow.”

Szem could only think of the leather pants calling to him, and the dangerous woman that filled them so admirably. “Yes, Doctor,” he said, “but why won’t she just kill me and force the wranglers to fix her sails anyway?”

The Doctor shrugged. “She needs true seams and no sabotage and she won’t get that with compulsion. Besides, I think she enjoyed flirting with your gun.”

Szem shifted uncomfortably. His gun?

“Well, off with you, and take care to keep your head.” The Doctor set off to check on his research. He had been drawn away too long by inconsequential details.

Szem looked back at his trailer, and Cordelia’s next to it. Damned Filo would make the most of his absence, but it couldn’t be helped. It was his duty to negotiate with the pirate, and he resolved that her beauty would be useless to sway him.

——

“Welcome to the mess trailer,” Chins said, “And that’s Scorch inside. He lets his cooking speak for him.”

He picked up a couple of caramel apples on sticks, although he would have preferred a venison sandwich, he didn’t want to keep Ginny waiting. He handed her the treat and headed for the big top.

The tent seemed much bigger when it was empty and quiet. Chins walked Ginny out into the center of the ring. The sawdust on the floor smelled new and sweet and high above, the peak of the tent caught the afternoon sun and diffused the place with a white glow.

“Here’s the center of it all, if you’re here for the entertainment,” he said, “The performers come in through the curtain here.” He went through the heavy red velvet curtains. “We wait here for our turns, and it’s a special place to get a sweet warm hand wrapped around a clown’s handle for a perk up before the show.” He sighed, remembering. He took her out the back flap into the circles of trailers.

A woman walked by with a great snake draped around her neck and various acrobats were juggling and stretching around the yard. They chatted amiably as they practiced their routines without fanfare.

“Well, Chins, I know you fancy the church ladies, but do they fancy you?” Sophie stood in front of them in a loose blue overall and clutched her beard thoughtfully.

“How do you know she’s a church lady?” Chins said, copying Sophie’s stance.

She cocked her eyebrow at him playfully. “Woman’s intuition, you big dolt. But take care. If she looks like a mark the little lightfingers will make short work of her purse.” Sophie reached out and quickly unbuttoned the two top buttons of Ginny’s blouse.

"There’s a start,” she said, “the rest is up to you.” Sophie winked and made off toward the carpenters’ tent.

It was true. Ginny would invite unwanted attentions the way she looked now.

“That was Sophie,” he said, “And wise as her name. Let me show you our costume racks and dressing room. Perhaps I can fit you to the carnival better. Then we’ll be able to see every last corner without drawing attention.”

——

The inn where Chins had found Ginny had a brawl going on between the two big farm hands. They had smashed a table and a couple of chairs in one corner and the bartender stood by with a broom handle to poke them back into the wrecked corner every time they threatened to roll their destruction into the rest of the dining room.

Mojo walked past them without giving them a glance and up to the bar. He flipped a five to the barmaid. “I’ll have a room with plenty of light. Two hours.”

The barmaid shook her head. “Two hours is optimistic, isn’t it, funny face?”

Mojo looked at Campbell, mischief and curiosity in her face and turned back to the barmaid and flipped her another five. “Make that three hours. And bring up half an apple pie, a wedge of cheese, and ale after one.” He put an arm around Campbell’s waist and swept her up the stairs.

The room was on the third floor and had windows on two sides. Plenty of light indeed.

“Well now, my little apprentice. Let’s see what those nimble fingers of yours can do first, and then I’ll show you a nimble tongue trick or two. We’ll see who boils over first.”

——

Felicity looked straight through the curtain into Callum’s eyes, and he wished she saw him as she imagined him, however that was. Any thought of hers would be better than the reality of his crumbled face. But she couldn’t see. He knew because she smiled.

"Oh Felicity, I'd be so happy not to have to try the next things on some other woman. I only want to try with you."

The black curtain made him sad, but he resolved that he would not keep any secret from her excepting his face.

"I've told the Doctor I'd help him, and he means to have me do like treatments to many women. He has sore wrists. But he also wants me to work on making a device that will take the place of hands. Felicity, I want to promise that I will not touch another woman, and I mean to do all I can to prevent it, but I will hide nothing from you but my face. I have a promise to the Doctor that I must honor if no other option is possible. The sooner I can fashion a device, the sooner I will be released from my promise to him."

He held her tight to himself. "I know the Doctor expects the next experiment tomorrow, but I will wait on your word for your readiness, now, tonight, tomorrow, or a day yet unseen. Then I will work tirelessly in my tinker wagon to finish the machine.

Callum reviewed the procedure for the deep palpitations in his mind and he felt himself grow hard again. Oh he was deep in his troubles now, and no mistaking.

"Felicity," he said, "This is the best moment of my life."

A coy smile lit up Sigi's face when her Albert whispered his words against her ear, his breath warm and inviting. She pulled away, blue eyes glittering as she looked into his. There was a hint of mischief there as she smiled, a soft giggle suddenly erupting into fits of raucous laughter. She pressed herself hard against her new husband, her breasts squished up against his chest. Without a care and no ounce of shame, she brought her leg up between his until her knee rested comfortably against his bulging crotch.

"I love a man bursting with virility," Sigi said plainly, her knee moving slightly, offering a gentle caress to the bulge between Albert's legs. "You won't know how to stand when we're done," she then added, bringing her leg down and pulling further away. She beckoned he follow as the music continued, the intensity ever growing as everyone danced and cheered. Some of the girls threw flowers while others fluttered ribbons high into the air. Men began firing their guns. "And every inch of this wood will know us by name."

It was a promise, a solemn vow. Sigi had made Albert hers before the eyes of her clan. Forever the two were bound, their lives one—a perfect union.

~~~

Ava's heart was pounding! Fortunately, her brother seemed too preoccupied with the golden-haired girl to pay her or any onlooker any mind. She half wondered how he'd come upon the small rabble and, what's more, the center of attention at one of their weddings. It was mind boggling to say the least, but she wasn't about to investigate. It wasn't the proper time, not without anyone there to help should they need it. As it was, she was already taking great risks breaking charade. She didn't want to add more fuel to an already burning fire. Though inside a fire was burning quite brightly. She turned toward her Clive, the man no doubt confused by her sudden actions. She owed him an explanation.

She wanted to give him one, for him to know and understand. Though, her heart swelled as his faith in her—in them—shone forth bright as the flames she felt burning within her soul.

"Clive," Ava finally managed as they began to walk the narrow streets of Kaland, people hurrying about with their lives. She turned to look at him, her dark eyes expressive, full of hope and need. She slipped her hand in his, her fingers lacing with his and squeezing tightly. "You need to know what lurks beneath these masks." Her eyes glistened and she felt a wave of fear wash over her. She'd never spoken to a soul about her past with the exception of Doctor Manuel. "But I'm afraid," she went on, body trembling and moving closer. "I want you to see," she said. "I...I need you to."

~~~

The sun was hot and Magali wanted more of that damnable water. But there was no way in hell she'd take another sip from the glass offered by that doctor. As it was, she'd taken at least five paces from her spot and needed to get back to her airship. Her blue eyes squinted as she watched the gleaming man whisper to his shadow who'd finally decided to show himself...just like a dog, answers the call of his master. How pathetic! She let out an audible sigh, her eyes fixing upon the shadow of a man, the 'cavalry'...'infantry'...oh, she hardly cared! But she knew he was the one with the gun—the gun that had been meant for her if she'd tried anything.

As if he'd be able to pull that trigger. She'd pull his...and he'd probably want her to pull it again! Magali mused at the thought, her cheeks tingeing a pale shade of pink.

Placing her hands on her hips, Magali shifted her stance and waited for the doctor's 'man' to meet up with her. He seemed preoccupied. Figures. He was a man, after all. She shook her head, platinum locks swishing about her angelic face. When he caught up to her, she let out an audible sigh.

"Ready to do your master's bidding?" Maggie asked, a small smile playing on her full pouty lips. "Hrm, well my ship is not too far off. But, you can inspect it for yourself and tell your master exactly as I've already told him." She rolled her eyes. "Insufferable," she muttered. "Perhaps, if you're lucky, I can put you to work as well." Her smile broadened. "Could use a good pair of hands and..." her voice trailed. "A keen eye." She winked at him and turned on her heels, walking in the direction of her downed airship. Her hips swayed dramatically with every step. "This way," she barked, a smirk on her pretty face. "Don't want to keep your master waiting."

~~~

It was more than she imagined and exactly as she had hoped! Ginny followed Chins as he escorted her into the mess trailer, her eyes wide with awe and wonder. She felt like she'd truly pulled the most daring stunt of all being right where she was. Truly, if this was a test, she was certain she'd pass!

Everyone that roamed the space was so colorful and magnificent! It made church seem dull, though she tried her best not to think that too loudly for fear that was too sinful a thought any girl should have. But, she looked to Chins, the clown on her arm, and she couldn't help but smile. Never had she felt so happy, so alive and free.

When it became clear that she stood out among the crowd, Ginny couldn't help but bite down on her lower lip. Just what was she to do? She didn't want to ruin the grand time she was having or her pleasant company's time. She looked to him for answers and, like the wise clown he was...he had answers!

"Really!?" Ginny exclaimed, her heart starting to race. The very idea of wearing a colorful and perhaps sparkling costume gave her absolute chills, sending shivers along her spine. Her knees quivered in delight. This was the opportunity of a lifetime! When would she ever have this chance again? "I'd love the chance to try something on," she admitted, her cheeks turning quite red as she looked down upon the ground.

She just hoped that she'd be forgiven for allowing herself to be seduced by the pleasures of such luxuries, such fineries, such...marvelous temptations.

~~~

"Don't apologize," Cassidy said calmly, though her heart beat fast and furiously. She looked at Mairon, her leg wrapped tightly about his waist. She could feel the heat pouring off his body, enveloping hers as she held onto him, arms about his neck, his hat atop her head. They were close, his lips almost brushing hers. The tip of her tongue poked out and licked at her own lips, wetting them as she held his gaze. "When we both know you don't mean it." She smiled at him, her hands gently teasing his hair at the nape of his neck. She was hardly sorry, so why should he be? Though, never had she ever dared to be so bold with her words.

But given things...it was worth it.

~~~

Campbell strode into the room, her head twisting as her eyes took everything in. She nodded with approval. It was, by far, the best place she'd stayed in quite some time. When the door clicked shut behind them, she turned toward Mojo and grinned.

"Tongue tricks sound fancy," Campbell began. "But can they out maneuver the fingers?" she asked, her one eyebrow arching quizzically. She moved toward him, looking up into his face. "I suppose we shall see. Right, boss?" She gave him a smile and did a back bend right in front of him.

With great ease, Campbell brought her head between her legs, her hands gripping her ankles and she looked up and him and smiled. Slowly, carefully, she then placed her hands on the floor and let her legs float over her body into a back walk over, the action fluid and seemingly simple. When she stood upright, she stepped back toward Mojo and let her hands slide down his chest to the hem of his pants.

"And still my boss' face looks sad," Campbell pouted, referring to the painted frown. "Maybe induced malady will bring a smile to that painted face? You think, boss?" She let her hand slide ever downward while the other one went to work on the belt and buttons. "You also promised me tongue tricks. I want to see them," she demanded. "And a sad boss isn't likely to be forthcoming." Her hand down his pants suddenly found what it was searching for and a smile lit up the girl's face almost instantly. "Aha!" she exclaimed, fingers curling about something hard and stiff, her palm gently moving in long, thorough strokes. "Now we'll see who boils over, boss."

~~~

Felicity didn't know why it bothered her or why she expected any other answer. Of course Cal had to practice such treatments on others. This was for science. These were merely experiments...and she was just one of many subjects. Still, it tore at her heart to know that his hands would be on another, making her feel the very same things she'd just experienced. It didn't seem fair somehow and she already hated those women who'd be next in line.

Still, Felicity held out some hope when Cal mentioned the device. She found herself already praying that whatever gadget he built could be finished sooner as opposed to later. Let the others only be experimented on via machine, let her be the special one who got touched by Cal's hands. Her green eyes closed and she thought on their session. His hands had been miraculous. Never had she known hands could instill such sensations. At one point, she swore they felt like a mouth...but perhaps that was just the malady tricking her mind. It was hard to know, but she didn't care. She just wanted her moments with Cal to last, to be hers, to be something considered special and pure.

"Tomorrow," Felicity muttered. "I want it tomorrow. With you. Just you," she begged. There was urgency in her tone, a want and desire so strong that she feared she just might scare Cal away forever. Tears welled in her eyes when Cal told her this was the best moment of his life. It was for her as well. "I didn't know life until you, Cal, I..." She could feel the emotions swelling inside, her body aching for more of his touch. "There's no one but you," she said. "Not ever. You have awakened me. I am yours."

Albert's mouth opened as Sigi's knee found his hardness. These people were very understanding. people didn't gasp or scold. Instead, they cheered, threw flowers, made noise. This was a life he could get used to.

"You won't know how to stand when we're done." The promise brought a laugh to Albert's lips. "Do you hear her?" he yelled to the crowd at large, "I won't be able to stand!" The cheering dissolved into hearty laughter and clapping. “And I have several inches of wood that will make the forest jealous of you, pretty, and not a few of your cousins too,” he said, into her ear.

Albert followed Sigi through the crowd, toward a trailer he was sure wasn't there earlier in the day. It was new, still smelling a little of paint on the outside, but when he followed Sigi's swinging backside inside, he found the atmosphere full of incense. Dozens of candles lit the inside of the trailer. It was beautiful. The heavy drape at the entrance was a cunningly crafted tapestry, images of dancers and musicians woven into the scene. The bed was covered in richly colored blankets and pillows, silks, linens, and sheepskins.

Outside, the men had gathered on either side of the trailer and they worked together to rock it back and forth, a prank that knocked both Sigi and Albert off their feet onto the ornate bed.

Decorative pillows cascaded onto the floor. Albert wrapped his arms around the her. He hoped the men wouldn't hang about outside. It might interfere with his concentration, but it wouldn't hurt if a few of those other gypsy girls caught a listen to what the great Albert Sparrow could bring about in the bedroom.

"We'll teach those string pluckers the real meaning of music, Sigi." He ran his hand up her leg under the pretty dress. "Let's give them a romp to immortalize in song!"

He found an endless row of buttons on the back of her dress. He unbuttoned the top one, then he kissed her.

----

Ava's longing surrounded Clive, he felt heavy and light with it at once. Albert's presence was dark to her. He could sense it- he had seen it, in fact. Ava was not herself, never herself when Albert could see her. He pulled her into a quiet recessed entrance to a building. They stood still for a moment, and he put his hand between her breasts and felt her heartbeat. He closed his eyes.

"Ava, I long to see your soul, your center. I promised never to hurt you, and I mean to keep my promise forever. I cannot judge or disdain you. I am powerless to scorn you. You are abundantly precious to me, and if masks hide you, I would have them off. I wish nothing more than to know you and cherish your depths."

A bird landed on the street then, a bold dove. It plucked a crumb of bread from Clive's shoe, then flew, a white flurry, to the eaves of the buildings.

He embraced her then, masks or no, and kissed her lips. She tasted faintly of jam. "Oh my sweet," he said, "I'll drink you deep and make your heart my own home."

----

Szem trotted to the pirate, ready to negotiate. She was beautiful, more beautiful close up than far away, But she had an unpleasant manner. Downright rude, in fact, with her words, but she invited him with her body. It delighted him and made him a little angry.

He was glad of the tiny pistol in his boot. This woman’s sword might fly at any time, and for any reason.

“I’ve got a keen eye,” Szem said, a couple of steps behind her, “I’m sharp eye Szem, and I’ll thank you to remember my name because I answer to no other.”

She walked ahead of him, all winks and swings. And deities, the luck of those leather pants to hold such perfect globes. He stared, and very nearly twisted his ankle in a pothole from distraction. She was bewitching him again!

"And just to set the record straight, lady pirate, I’ve got a woman of my own more beautiful than you, more courteous, and she loves me truly,” he said, turning his eyes firmly to the ground in front of him, “So don’t try to use your feminine wiles against me, I warn you. They will be ineffectual against the pure and noble love of my lady Cordelia."

——

Chins escorted Ginny straight to the row of make-up mirrors. The tent roof was translucent to let in light, and the afternoon sun made the whole tent glow.

"Sit, Ginny, I'll have you looking the part of a carnival doxy in no time,” Chins said, “Close your eyes."

Chins sat in front of her, picked a brush from the neatly arranged tray and began painting the edges of her eyes, his fingers on her chin to keep her head steady.

“I help the acrobats get ready for their act, and I paint some of the carnie women and sideshow girls. Clowns are magicians with paints, though each of us does our own face. It would be sacrilege to offer to paint another clown.”

He swept some black into her lashes, lingering.

“You have beautiful eyes, Ginny,” he said, “I wonder what wonders you’ve seen in your mirror after a bath of an autumn afternoon?”

He lined her other eye and hummed a tune he had known forever.

He used a soft brush to warm her cheeks a little, then he dipped a brush in scarlet. He ran his finger across her lips just to touch them, then he painted them, slowly, precisely.

“These are the prettiest petals in the carnival, save a few that bloom in secret,” he said. He began to sing made up words to his song.

I wonder what flowers bloom in your mirror
I long to be eyes in your looking-glass
when bathtime is over
your skin is uncovered
and I’d get a look at your…

Lass, you’re fetching in naught but fog
You’re pretty in nothing but air.
And if I had hands
could reach that far
I’d caress your derri…

Airships, rowboats, horses, carts
You dress plunges down into glitz
These plums are sweet
but I’d like to taste
the soft skin between your…

He continued in this manner, Humming sometimes, then singing a few lines until he was satisfied.

“You look stunning,” he said, giving her a black beauty mark next to her nose. He turned her to the mirror to see his handiwork. Then he swept his arm toward the many racks of dresses and costumes.

"Now we just need to pick you the right dress and there’ll be no flaccid flesh anywhere in Kaland tonight."

——

Mairon looked into Cassidy’s eyes and saw mischief there.

“I take back my apology, then, and offer another,” he said, “I’m sorry I didn’t do this sooner.”

He kissed her, mind fuzzy with her fingers in his hair. He lowered his hand to the leg that wrapped around him and felt the smooth strength of her.

A brawl started behind Mairon, but he didn’t care. “You have a talent for finding trouble, don’t you?” he said, “And getting out of it too. Let’s find out if this establishment has a back door… or a back room.”

He slipped behind the bar while the bartender was distracted, hooked Cassidy’s skirts on a finger and went through the door to the back.

——

Mojo sighed as Campbell stroked his cock. “You’ve got excellent fingers, yes, and I’ll love to see you try to remove this frown. You’re persistent, I hope, not one who gives up after a single failure.”

Her flexible trick had taken his breath away. She was a miracle sent straight from a basket in the marketplace. The possibilities that ran through his head made him dizzy. He ran his hands up her legs under her light skirts. She was such a lithe creature, made to squirm into tight places.

He stepped forward, backing her up to the bed. All the talk about boiling had him just on the edge of doing just that. He took her wrist, and as he did, his pants fell around his ankles.

“That’s enough for the moment,” he said, “Now’s my tongue’s turn.”

He pushed her back onto the soft bed and she bounced once, her hair flying up over her head. Her skirts flipped up over her knees, and Mojo lifted them up to show a thin pair of panties. He slipped his fingers under the band and slipped them down her long legs. He admired her pale skin, her thighs, the place where her legs came together. As much as he wanted to taste every bump and crevice of her, he had a mission, and he could be single-minded when he needed to be.

“Pay attention, Apprentice,” he said, “and don’t lose focus.”

He spread her knees, smiled under his painted frown, and licked her nether lips a wide warm lap. He was glad dessert was coming. He’d have his fill of the main course before then.

——

The Doctor wove through the trailers, humming an old marching tune. He’d be paid well for the sail repairs for the pirate, all in all a good day’s work all by itself, but he was a man with many irons in the heat. The research would be a pleasant and altogether less dangerous task than his last.

——

“I promise,” Callum said, “Tomorrow we’ll proceed, but I beg your understanding- can it be at first light?” He didn’t want to wait another hour, another minute, but he had promised to do everything only when she was ready.

“Felicity, I long for you already, and you aren’t yet gone. Even the idea that you will be in another room, another place away from me makes me feel anguish. I might miss a morsel of your voice, a simple, pure sentence. Please meet me here when the sun is still touching the horizon, before anyone but the baker is awake.”

Before the Doctor was awake. Callum wondered how long he would be able to keep the man’s scientific stare off of Felicity’s body. He might stretch a hand in and make Callum’s promise void.

He heard the Doctor’s voice then, and the crunching of his white shoes on the gravel outside the therapy tent.

“Hurry, Felicity,” he whispered, “Put on your robe- the Doctor is coming!”

Callum hopped to the floor, stumbling a little on his weaker foot. He took up a towel, and was wiping his hands as the Doctor came in.

“Hello, Callum,” the Doctor said, his eyes adjusting to the dimmer light inside the tent, “How did it go with our first subject?”

Callum nodded, hoping he looked professional, disinterested. “I think it went exceedingly well, Doctor. The hysterical crisis happened very much as was expected. I think Fel… the subject is an excellent candidate for further tests.” He was keenly aware of Felicity’s presence on the other side of the curtain.

“Good, good. I expect we’ll be flooded in Kaland with the Malady. I’ll need your hands by tomorrow evening to aid me. I’ll double the schedule. We’ll make double the coin. As for your act, I suppose you can perform an hour later than usual.”

“Thank you, Doctor. I hope I will be able to serve you well.”

“You may leave, Callum. I’d like a word or two with the subject alone.”

Callum hesitated, but put down the towel and left by the tent flap.

The doctor came around the curtain and looked at Felicity. Her complexion was still a little flushed. That was a good sign. The circulatory indicators were definitive.

“Well,” he said, his hands behind his back, his spectacles reflecting white. “Was the experiment acceptable? Will you be willing to continue assisting us with our research?"