Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
T uscany, Italy
Somewhen
“Enough for now.” Although Nik’s voice was soft, it carried well, so that Simeon and the other roustabouts had no trouble hearing him even as they grumbled about sore backs and empty bellies. “Go have breakfast.”
“But we haven’t finished putting up the tents yet.” That was the new worker, a nervous young man with a freckled face. He’d likely be an all-right sort once he calmed down a bit. But now everyone else hushed him; you didn’t argue when the carnival engineer said you could take a food break. The heavenly aromas of coffee, sausages, and toast wafted from the tent that fed everyone when the carnival was closed to the public.
Nik smiled and patted the young man’s shoulder. “It is all right. There will be time enough after your meal. Well-fed people work harder.”
The kid shrugged and hurried off to join the others. Simeon lingered for a moment, although he wasn’t sure why. He imagined what his younger self would have thought about being able to eat breakfast like this every day—and then having two more ample meals besides. He pulled himself back into the present. “Nik? How long have you been with the carnival?”
“I have no idea.”
That made sense. Keeping track of time here was a slippery thing. Simeon rarely bothered to try. “Does Mr. Ame have some sort of plan or schedule for where we go? Or is it random?”
Nik shrugged. “You must ask him. I simply ensure that everything is set up properly.” He wandered off, whistling a tune that was probably popular in whichever Eastern European country he’d once called home.
Simeon walked toward breakfast, unsure why he’d asked. He reckoned that the carnival owner knew his own business well enough, and Simeon himself had no particular agenda. He’d been in an odd mood lately, totally indescribable.
The tent was crowded and the noise level high: conversations in dozens of languages, laughter, the shouts of the cooks and servers, clanging pots, rattling dishes. Simeon grabbed a full plate for himself and, when he couldn’t spot Crow, sat at the first empty spot he found. This put him among several people who worked the game booths and two of Cleo’s Clever Clowns, who were managing to eat without smearing their makeup. Simeon had never seen any of the clowns without greasepaint and a costume, which used to unsettle him slightly. Nowadays, however, he was less concerned. There were many magical sorts in the world—including him and his lover—and there was no reason to fear them just because they were unusual.
“I’m tired of archery,” said one of the games attendants, a petite woman with ginger hair and somewhat pointed ears. “I’m going to ask Mr. Ame if I can do something else instead.”
“Ball toss?” suggested the man next to her.
She shook her head. “The haunted house, if I can.” Her eyes glittered.
The conversation moved on from there, and for once Simeon didn’t join in. One of the men, who was originally from Ghana, spoke about how he missed a favorite dish called jollof. Then a woman from Indonesia playfully argued that nasi goreng was better, and the archery attendant announced she didn’t care for rice at all, which the others found shocking. Simeon laughed with his companions and ate his eggs and sausage, but he felt somewhat distant from the goings-on. Perhaps he was just missing Crow. They hadn’t seen each other since leaving the wagon well before dawn.
As soon as Simeon’s food was gone, he took his leave from the table, dropped off the cutlery and the empty plate and cup, and exited the tent. He could wander over to the rides, where Crow was likely helping to assemble things or hanging lights, but then Simeon would only prove a distraction. Or someone might put him to work. He had less than half an hour remaining until he’d be back to erecting tents.
He found himself wandering to the front of the carnival, which was quiet right now. There was the archway through which visitors would enter and, just past that, the ticket booth. He remained inside the carnival boundary, looking out.
They were at the bottom of a green valley, the gently rolling hills a patchwork of vineyards and trees. White cows grazed in a nearby pasture. In the distance, a wall surrounded a small city with narrow stone towers reaching toward the powder-blue sky. He couldn’t see any motorized vehicles, but he didn’t know whether that was because there were none nearby or because they didn’t yet exist.
The entire scene was peaceful. He could imagine children playing among the orchards under their parents’ or grandparents’ watchful eyes. Gardens producing bounties of harvests. Kitchens fragrant with simmering meals. Families gathering in the evening with glasses of wine. It was nothing at all like his native London. What would it be like to work the same soil that your ancestors had? To sleep under the same roof that your people had slept under for countless generations?
Or to roost in the treetops with a hundred chattering, fluttering relatives?
The temperature inside the carnival was always comfortable, but here at the threshold, warmth crept in. Since it was still early morning, this much heat must mean it was well into summer, though Simeon didn’t know the month any more than he knew the year or the location. He felt disconnected from the world outside, as if it were real and he was nothing but a minor character in a book. No reader would remember him after the story was finished.
“Do you want to go for a walk?”
Smiling, Simeon turned to find Crow standing a few feet away, the sunlight making a halo of his hair. He had a cup of coffee in one hand and a bread roll in the other.
“Snuck up on me,” said Simeon.
Crow came up beside him and together they gazed at the countryside. “Looks like good farmland.” Crow took a slow sip of his coffee.
“I expect so.”
“We could explore if you wanted. Why do you suppose the people up there have such tall buildings?” He pointed at the town.
“To impress their neighbors. ”
“Not very practical. All those stairs.”
“Could fly.”
Crow turned his head to give Simeon a searching look, which Simeon pretended not to notice.
The morning heat was increasing. Simeon realized he was tired and looking forward to some sleep once the setting-up was complete. He and Crow could cloister in their caravan, while children bounced down the midway in search of balloons and popcorn and adults strolled just as eagerly, trying to decide which show to see first.
But first he had tents to help with.
“I’ll see you in a bit, love.” He leaned over, gave Crow’s cheek a quick peck, and walked back toward the action.
As was his occasional habit, Mr. Ame shut down the carnival for a few days to give everyone a rest. They’d passed those days deep in some primordial forest, and although Simeon could have left through the archway to explore, he had no desire to. Instead he spent the time helping to repair a few things here and there, playing cards with some of the other roustabouts, or lounging with a book. His reading skills used to be weak, but he was working on them.
Of course, he and Crow also relaxed together. Crow thought of himself as socially awkward, which wasn’t accurate, but left to his own devices he tended to hang back from others. Simeon gently lured him forward into small groups and watched as Crow gradually relaxed and opened up. Like watching a flower bloom, although Simeon would never say as much to Crow. Anyway, the other carnival employees had a wealth of interesting tales and were happy to hear about some of Simeon’s or Crow’s adventures, so that was entertaining.
Simeon and Crow made love often and, lying tangled together afterward among their brightly colored pillows and blankets, Simeon would feel like the world’s wealthiest man.
Soon enough, however, everyone grew restless. The Amazing Mephistopheles wandered around the grounds, startling everyone by making improbable animals appear out of nowhere. Parcifal, the juggler, kept standing up in the middle of meals and tossing plates, glasses, and cutlery into the air, making everyone duck. The Flying Galliers insisted on having the big top set up so they could practice. It was time to move on.
“Wake up.”
Simeon, who had been dreaming about the foundling home, blinked groggily in the darkness. “Too early.”
“No, you’ve overslept. It’s time to get to work.” Crow brushed a strand of hair away from Simeon’s face. “I can make some tea.”
“No, it’s all right.” Simeon sat up, switched on the nearest lantern, and squinted in the sudden light. Crow was already dressed in plain trousers and a pale blue shirt and was looking at Simeon with some concern.
“Are you okay?”
“’M fine.” Simeon yawned and stretched.
“I never wake up before you do.”
This was true. Often Simeon would whisper something into Crow’s ear about the early bird getting the worm and then slide under the blankets to give him a blow job. It was, they both agreed, a satisfactory way to begin the day .
But now, here was Simeon still in bed while Crow waited, eyebrows raised.
“Can’t get up if you block my way, now, can I?” Simeon groused. He also wasn’t usually grouchy in the morning, but today his mood was foul.
Crow wordlessly stepped aside.
It took only a few minutes for Simeon to ready himself, and when they exited the caravan into the predawn darkness, the air was filled with sounds of others already working. Simeon had gone only a few paces before he stopped so suddenly that he nearly fell.
“What’s wrong?” That expression of concern had returned to Crow’s face.
“Nothing. It’s only… I know where we are. More or less, at any rate. We’re ho—” He caught himself in time. “We’re in England.”
Crow looked around, but there was nothing to see except for the other carnival vehicles. “How can you tell?”
“Dunno.” The scents, perhaps, or the specific feel of the air against his skin.
“Do you want?—”
“Let’s get to work.”
After a brief pause, Crow shrugged and led them to the midway. Everyone worked in a frenzy, hammering in stakes, pulling on ropes, lacing up canvas. Crow patted Simeon’s shoulder before loping off toward the rides, while Simeon joined the crew erecting the big top. It was hard work, his belly empty and the sun not yet up, and this morning he could almost envy the performers, still soundly asleep in their beds. But it didn’t do to let his mind wander right now, not when it was vital to be aware of what everyone around him was doing. Besides, he’d have a hearty breakfast soon enough.
Nik appeared shortly after the tent was completed and ordered everyone to go eat. Simeon had an extra helping of sausages and, after his break was over, studiously avoided venturing anywhere near the carnival’s perimeter. He didn’t want to see what lay beyond.
But as always, eventually the carnival was ready and the ticket booth opened. Visitors streamed through the archway, first in a slow trickle and then more steadily, although the real flood wouldn’t start until late afternoon. Simeon, who should have been getting more sleep, skulked beside the clowns’ orange tent and watched the crowds.
He knew these guests.
Well, not them specifically. Yet he recognized their clothing, their accents, the way they wore their hair. Even their faces seemed almost familiar, like people he’d passed a few times on the street. Not only was he in England, but he was in his own time—or very close to it. Not quite London, but his keen hearing suggested somewhere not too far away. East Anglia, he reckoned.
Simeon tried to calculate how long ago he’d left London to join the carnival, but that was like guessing a price when you didn’t know the exchange rate. He’d moved around so much since, in both time and space. If he counted the number of times he’d slept, however, they likely wouldn’t total more than a thousand. Three years gone, more or less. But the Simeon Bell who’d wandered into a carnival and been surprised when he was quickly offered a position was nothing like the person he was today. Assuming he even counted as a person, seeing as he was actually a rook.
This line of thought wasn’t getting him anywhere. Best to return to the caravan and hope that Crow was there as well. Even when they didn’t make love, Simeon enjoyed simply sleeping curled up together.
He’d taken only a few steps down the midway, his brain pleasantly occupied with Crow, when a woman several paces ahead of him dropped something. Seeming to not notice, she turned and disappeared behind Samson’s green tent. Simeon hurried forward and picked up the item, which turned out to be a rectangular wooden box a bit bigger than a matchbox. There were tiny hinges, which suggested that the lid could open, and the letter F was carved into the top. The item looked old, as if it had been handled often for years, and it weighed very little. He had no notion of what it might contain, and of course that was none of his business.
The woman didn’t immediately return, so Simeon took off after her. There was no sign of her between Samson’s and Parcifal’s tents, but by now she could be in the section that housed the other attractions and a few shops. He found that the area was busier than he would have expected at this time of day, with loads of people milling about the booths that sold trinkets, small toys, and potions. Simeon scanned the crowd, but all he’d seen of her was her back: a violet-and-white-striped dress with wide skirts. Her hair had been hidden beneath a black hat with broad ribbons. He’d thought she was of average height and weight, which was no help at all, and he couldn’t begin to hazard a guess regarding her age.
He spent a long time crossing back and forth, but he didn’t find her at any of the booths. She might be inside the fun house or the haunted house, or she might be watching the marionette show, but he couldn’t keep an eye on all of those at once.
Finally, he sagged in defeat.
Simeon had spent a good part of his life as a thief. When he was very young, he’d lifted handkerchiefs from people who owned drawerfuls of them. Later he’d stolen coins from drunken toffs who groped him in alleys. He wasn’t truly ashamed of it. Circumstances had demanded that he support himself in a variety of unsavory ways, and he didn’t believe he’d caused anyone serious harm .
He’d even nicked a few things after meeting Crow, much to Crow’s initial displeasure. But he wasn’t a thief anymore, and it would feel wrong to keep the little wooden box.
Perhaps, though, he could peek inside? Purely in the hope that doing so would help him find the owner.
Feeling furtive, Simeon retreated to a quiet spot behind Peter Parson’s Plentiful Potions and tried to open the box. But he couldn’t. There were hinges all right, and if he squinted he could make out a very thin seam, but the lid wouldn’t move. No clasp, no release that he could find. Perhaps it didn’t open at all, and the hinges and seams were merely for decoration—though that didn’t really make sense. What possible purpose could this item have aside from containing… something? And why would its owner have carried it if it didn’t have a purpose?
He spent a few minutes trying to work his fingernails into the seam, but to no avail, and the blade of his pocketknife didn’t work either. Perhaps he could have cut or smashed the box, but he didn’t want to inflict damage. It might be precious to the woman who’d lost it.
By now Simeon was frustrated and tired, and he felt ridiculous. He was skilled with his fingers and hands, and yet here he was, stymied by a bit of wood. He was tempted to just drop it onto the grass or take it back to where he’d found it, but he’d somehow begun feeling somewhat responsible for the box. He could picture the woman, distraught over its loss.
Fine. The best thing to do was… let someone else worry about it.
Pleased to have reached a decision, Simeon returned to the midway. His original idea was to find the carnival owner, but Mr. Ame had a way of appearing when he chose to and otherwise fading into the background. Simeon couldn’t find him. But he did spy a powerfully built man in a scarlet coat with gold piping, and yes, he would do quite well instead .
The carnival ringmaster stood near a large black tent, loudly urging guests to duck inside and see the Amazing Mephistopheles. “This is a show you’ll never forget,” he called in his deep voice. “If you don’t believe in magic, you will.”
Simeon waited impatiently for Rafe to finish his patter, then darted forward to catch him before he moved on.
“Hello, Simeon,” Rafe boomed, flashing a wide smile. Although the roustabouts and other workers came and went, he knew everyone’s name and always seemed genuinely happy to see them. “Are you going to watch Mephistopheles’s show today? There’s still some room in the tent.”
“No, I need advice, I expect.” He held the box on his palm so that Rafe could see it. “A woman dropped this. I tried to return it but I can’t find her. Perhaps you could….” He trailed off, hoping that Rafe would jump in with a suggestion.
Rafe didn’t. He just kept smiling.
Simeon sighed. “What should I do with it?”
“It’s great that you want to reunite it with its owner, but I’m not sure how you’re going to do that. Why not ask Darius? He’s good at finding things.” Rafe clapped Simeon’s shoulder. “Sorry—gotta go.” He strode purposefully away.
Lovely. Not only had Rafe proved unhelpful, but now if Simeon didn’t return the box, and if the woman started asking people about it, Simeon might get blamed for holding on to it. He glared at the thing, wondering if it was worth all this bother. It certainly didn’t look valuable.
“You don’t want to get some sleep?”
Simeon looked up, relieved to see Crow coming toward him. Crow was handsome, but not in a way that tended to turn heads. There was a glow to him, which Simeon had sensed the very first time they’d met, when Crow wasn’t quite grown and had been as na?ve and hesitant as a baby bunny. The glow had intensified when they met the second time—a decade later, by Crow’s measurement, and a few months as Simeon reckoned it—even though by then Crow was weighed down by grief and loneliness. Now, though, he was like the sun itself, bright and warming and the center of Simeon’s universe.
“Got sidetracked,” Simeon admitted. He showed Crow the box and explained what had happened.
“I guess there’s no lost and found, huh?” Crow said.
“Not that I know of. Rafe didn’t mention one.”
“So do you want to do what he suggested and ask Darius?”
What Simeon wanted to do was forget about the bloody box, go back to the caravan, and get naked with Crow. He wanted that very badly. But instead he gave a dramatic sigh. “Yes, I suppose.”
“I can do it for you if you want, and you can go to bed. I think your morning was rougher than mine. The rides aren’t very complicated today.”
Simeon shook his head. “I’ll do it.”
“Then I’ll tag along.”
That was stupid—they didn’t both have to miss out on sleep. But Simeon was too selfish to say so, and both of them went to the green tent where Darius performed.
It was well before his next show was scheduled, and his human partner, Stanley, stood just outside the entrance, looking a bit bored. He was probably there to keep nosy guests out, and he perked up a bit when he saw Simeon and Crow.
“We’ve a bit of a mystery on our hands,” Simeon told him. “We were hoping Darius could help. Is he free?”
Stanley—who almost never spoke to anyone but Darius—nodded, lifted the tent flap, and gestured for them to enter.
Simeon had helped set up this tent many times, so he knew what to expect: rows of folding chairs facing a small stage. Now a large red ball, some hoops, and a few other props waited onstage, and a rope was strung a couple of feet above it. Darius himself was sitting on the grass between chairs and stage, using a foot to scratch behind one ear. He barked softly and trotted over, tail wagging, when he spotted them.
As dogs went, he was unremarkable to look at. A medium-sized mutt with golden fur. But his eyes showed more emotion and intelligence than most humans’ did. Crow and Simeon greeted him; he sniffed at their feet for a moment before sitting in front of them expectantly.
“Hello.” Simeon felt unexpectedly awkward. He’d interacted with Darius before, of course, but never in this particular way. Crow hung back a bit, looking somehow both amused and ready to leap in if help was needed.
Darius gave another quiet bark that sounded more like what than woof .
“Found this.” Simeon held out the box. “A lady dropped it. Can you help me find her?”
After another brief tail wag, Darius sniffed at the box. His floppy ears were soft-looking, and Simeon would have liked to pet them but wasn’t sure whether Darius would approve. He’d seen Stanley do it, but that was different. Simeon could ask, of course, but that would feel even more awkward. So he simply stood there, wondering how many creatures in the world weren’t exactly who or what they seemed at first glance.
When Darius was apparently satisfied that he’d smelled enough, he nosed gently at Simeon’s hand and trotted to the tent exit. Crow and Simeon exchanged a quick glance and followed. Darius moved confidently through the crowds, head and tail high. He never paused to snuffle at the ground, so Simeon didn’t know how he was managing to smell anything, but he certainly seemed sure of himself .
Simeon’s heart sank when he realized where they were heading: straight to the carnival exit.
Darius stopped just inside the archway, sat, and barked, this time more loudly. His message was clear: the owner of the box was out there. Simeon didn’t doubt him, but still he frowned. “Are you certain, mate?”
Now Darius looked a bit offended.
“No, sorry, it’s only….” Simeon looked down at his feet, uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
Crow came to his rescue. “Thanks, Darius. We appreciate it.”
The dog trotted back toward the tents, leaving the two of them standing near the edge of the midway. People continued to stream in, all of them happy and excited, none of them paying any mind to the pair of roustabouts.
Simeon finally got up enough courage to look past the archway and ticket booth. It turned out that there wasn’t much to see. A large, flat expanse of short-grass meadow with a line of trees at the far edge. Beyond that lay a few stone houses. Not London, obviously. They were likely at the edge of some village or perhaps a market town, but Simeon didn’t know which. He didn’t know if it mattered.
“What do you want to do?” Crow asked after a time.
“Dunno.”
“I could try to help you find her.”
“It’s just a box.” Simeon couldn’t meet Crow’s gaze.
“If you want to forget about it, I won’t blame you.”
Crow might have been understanding, but he wasn’t being bloody helpful. Simeon scowled at him. “If we walk out there, we might not get back before the carnival leaves.” He wasn’t sure why this concerned him so much—they had many hours left—but it did. And they both knew that if the carnival left without them, they might never find it again.
A family passed close by: a father and mother with four young children dancing around them like eager puppies. Their clothes were modest, with visible signs of mending. But Simeon knew they would find the food and games surprisingly within their means, and the whole lot of them would go home with lifelong memories of a lovely day filled with wonders.
“You’d be stranded here,” Simeon said quietly to Crow. “Far from home in a time not your own.”
“But I’d be with you. Simeon, you left the carnival once to come find me, and we barely knew each other then. If you think it’s important to track down this woman, then I believe you.”
And there it was again, the thing that astounded Simeon more than turning into a bird or fighting demons or any of the other things he’d experienced these past years. Crow believed him. Believed in him. Would walk away from everything he knew and everything he had, entirely on Simeon’s say-so.
It was more responsibility than Simeon had ever shouldered. The box was heavy in his trouser pocket and the sun too bright in his eyes.
“Perhaps I should ask Madame Persephone for her advice.”
Crow looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know. I mean, when I went to her….” He left the rest unsaid, but Simeon knew what he was thinking. Ten years of death and loneliness.
“Love, your visit to Madame Persephone didn’t cause any of those things to happen. They would have happened regardless. You know that. But if you hadn’t gone, we wouldn’t have met, and….” And that was too terrible to even consider.
“You’re right,” Crow admitted. He even managed a smile. “So let’s go get our fortunes told.”