Chapter 20 Ignacio
Ignacio
Ignacio needed to get away from Esmeralda—no—from Paloma Blanca, Fortune Teller Extraordinaire or Renaissance Woman, or whatever the hell she wanted to call herself.
She was so arrogant. So self-centered. So frustratingly stubborn.
And she’d gone back on their deal. He should have known she’d break her promise.
He slowed as he entered the alleyway between booths and games.
Posters of the ringmaster hung on every pole.
The enchanted ink shifted with the breeze.
The first night he arrived at the carnival, Ignacio had passed by a lemon-drop scented booth that sold shimmering tonics and bubbling concoctions.
He had stopped before it, thinking perhaps the ink might be there amongst the other merchandise.
He’d even asked the worker with jewels for teeth if she offered magical ink.
The woman shook her head. She said that would belong to someone far more enchanting than she.
There was only one person Ignacio could think of. Not Gabriel. ángel Veracruz.
With the performers and carnival so busy readying for the evening, now would be the perfect time to find the ringmaster’s quarters.
Ignacio spun on his heels and jolted.
The ringmaster himself stood before him. He wore his signature sequined jacket, top hat, and mischievous grin. “Hello, Ignacio.”
There he went again. Saying Ignacio’s name as if each syllable held a joke only the ringmaster was privy to.
Ignacio straightened his spine. “Didn’t see you there.”
“Hard to miss me, isn’t it?” Veracruz chuckled. He raised his hand. “I believe you left these behind.”
Ignacio gawked. “My shirt and coat.” With all the commotion of the parade, he’d forgotten he was walking around half naked and covered in Estefan’s foul feathers.
He took the clothing and quickly dressed with a word of thanks.
“You showed great fortitude today, kid.” The ringmaster took off his hat and placed it over his heart. “Allow me to express my gratitude for saving Anella. What a tragedy that might have been. I count my performers as family. I couldn’t imagine losing someone so dear to me.”
“Yet, you so quickly kicked her out of the carnival.” Ignacio couldn’t hide his bitterness.
“A game with no consequences is rather boring, wouldn’t you say?”
Judging from the way Esmeralda acted, and all the tears Anella shed, the Running wasn’t just some game to them. It was a lifeline.
“Walk with me?” the ringmaster asked. Though his tone implied it wasn’t a question but a command.
Ignacio nodded.
A group of performers dressed in figure-hugging costumes with plumes of purple feathers bobbing on their heads giggled and waved to the ringmaster and Ignacio as they passed by. Veracruz winked at them. He bent down and pecked one of the women on the cheek while slipping her a discreet note.
Ignacio frowned. He never treated any of his family members in such a flirtatious manner.
Not that he had many. His father never spoke of his childhood.
The only hint about his past was the web of scars lacing the comandante’s right arm.
Mother said he had been wounded when he was a young man, but he never explained why or how because he was ashamed.
His mother had siblings, but they lived in the southern regions of the country and rarely wrote.
But if Ignacio did have close relations, he was positive he wouldn’t offer them any winks.
The two young men wove through the bustling carnival. The sun was starting to descend. Soon, thousands of guests would be walking beneath the marquee to experience a night full of enchantments beyond compare. But where did those enchantments come from? What was fueling this strange place?
“How goes your reunion with Esmeralda?”
“Chillingly,” Ignacio said sourly.
The ringmaster laughed. “I figured as much. Esmeralda has spunk, yes? She reminds me so much of another brilliant showstopper I know.” He beamed. “It’s me, of course. I’m the brilliant showstopper.” He snickered at his own jest.
Ignacio didn’t find the ringmaster funny, but he smiled courteously. An old habit he’d never been able to stop. Father always said a well-mannered child was the jewel on a parent’s crown. Ignacio never had a choice about being rude or not. His father didn’t give him one.
“Tell me, what do you think of my fantastical festival?” Veracruz asked.
One of the gondola lifts that took guests from the entrance of the carnival to the opposite end of the third, outermost ring started to sway overhead.
With a squeak, it began to spin. The carnival hands screamed and shouted with exhilarated glee as they tested the ride themselves.
Ignacio saw no ropes or wire carrying it.
The only sign the gondola was held by anything at all were tiny specks of light glinting off a cable so thin he could only compare it to fishing wire.
“Carnival Fantástico is like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he said honestly.
The ringmaster nodded proudly. “Nor will you ever.”
Ignacio watched ángel Veracruz from the corner of his eye. For someone who couldn’t be past the age of twenty-five, the ringmaster had more crow’s feet than Ignacio had realized. Perhaps it was because the man was always smiling like he had won some great prize.
“Where does the magic come from?” Ignacio asked.
The ringmaster cupped a hand behind his ear. “Do you hear the music?”
Only the sounds of the carnival surrounded them. The clopping of horse hooves. Performers chattering. The people in the gondola screaming. There was no music.
As if it were waiting for its cue, the music began to play.
“The tune is called ‘The Tale of the Valerio Brothers.’ Ever heard of it?” Veracruz asked.
That surname sounded familiar, but Ignacio couldn’t place where he’d heard it before.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
“The story isn’t widely known. Especially not since King Amadeo began banishing stories about gods and magic years back.” He clicked his tongue. “Such a shame.”
They stopped before the Fun House. The entrance to the striped tent had been constructed to look like a menacing face.
The eyebrows of the face cut in angry lines.
Its eyes moved in hypnotizing circles. Beneath its ruddy clown nose waited a gaping mouth that billowed with glowing red smoke.
Nothing about the tent looked fun to Ignacio.
Though, he supposed, people who had never witnessed true horrors might find being frightened to near death exhilarating.
“Let’s see what you interpret from ‘The Tale of the Valerio Brothers.’ ” The ringmaster cleared his throat and sang the song perfectly in tune to the bouncing melody just like Esmeralda had done with her ridiculous rhymes during the parade.
“There once were two brothers called Valerio.
They worked for a circus and its impresario.
One day, the brothers came upon something inconceivable.
A window to the gods. A portal once believed unreachable.
The god of smoke and mirrors spoke to them from the Land of the Dead.
‘I’ll give you whatever you wish so long as you do as I ask,’ the god said.
That day, a delightful deal was made.
The brothers received enchantments and gifts for a tiny trade.
The Valerios shared their magic for the world to see.
So, we celebrate their great find. For a small fee.”
Performers and carnival hands had stopped to listen. They clapped and whistled once he finished. The ringmaster made a great show of bowing for his doting fans.
“What do you think, kid?” he queried.
“You’re saying Carnival Fantástico’s magic comes from a god?”
Veracruz shrugged coyly. “Stranger things have been true, no?”
Have they? Ignacio didn’t think there was anything stranger than a god blessing a carnival.
Especially since gods didn’t exist. His mother had been devout in her prayers.
Before she died, she had told him about the hundreds of gods who dwelled beyond the realm of the living.
She’d told him that most were good, shining blessings upon those who worshiped them.
Some were benign, not caring what humanity did or did not do.
But a handful were made from pure wickedness and waited for any opportunity to wreak havoc.
Ignacio had seen enough evil in humanity to understand mere mortals didn’t need the help of devious gods to destroy the world.
“Maybe the song means everything is smoke and mirrors,” Ignacio said. He gestured toward the Fun House, a tent quite literally filled with smoke and mirrors.
The ringmaster laughed. “Can it not be both?”
Ignacio crossed his arms. “You answered my questions with more questions.”
“Did I?” Veracruz chuckled. “When one grows up in a carnival, they find themselves forever speaking in riddles. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
He sat on a bench that had been sculpted to look like a cloud. In fact, from the way it swayed and misted around the ringmaster’s striped britches, Ignacio wondered if it was one.
“Look around you, kid. This carnival is as magical as the mind wishes it to be. Our country is in the middle of a terrible war. I am here to give our people an escape. There is no harm in that. In fact, bringing joy to people is honorable, I think. There are some who long to steal what I have created. They’d like to harness all these enchantments and use them in malice.
I cannot and will not let that happen.” His expression turned serious.
A heavy sort of anger blazed behind his eyes. “I know who your father is, kid.”
Cold ice slithered down Ignacio’s spine. “You do?”
The ringmaster flicked his wrist, and two crinkled pieces of paper appeared from thin air.
One was the flyer Ignacio had taken from his father’s secret office.
The other was the breakup letter Esmeralda had left him a year ago.
They had both been tucked inside his coat pocket.
The one the ringmaster had just returned to him.
“You went through my clothing.”