the music as though it was part of their bodies.
The exotic beasts followed the funambulists, the lion tamer being a most dashing and bonny man. It was little surprise young Elodie admired him, for many of the ladies in the audience sighed and swooned as he flexed the muscles of his tanned, bare arms and tossed his long, dark blonde curls. The spectacle had somehow lost its dazzle after the horrors of the freak show, and I watched idly without feeling much delight or interest. Indeed, as the clowns returned to the centre ring for another slapstick pantomime, I avoided peering directly at them and instead directed my attention to the shadows around the ring. I thought perhaps I could see movement there, swift, scampering figures, slightly darker than the inky blackness.
As the lights dimmed, I was relieved to note that the music faded until a charged silence rang through the arena. A small flame appeared in the darkness, growing steadily until it barely illuminated Flaire's ruddy features. He was smiling, but in the shadows, there was something sinister about his handsome face, something feral and dangerous. He held the small flame out towards the audience, in the palm of his hand. It flared larger and larger until it appeared as though he was holding a bonfire between his hands. He lifted it above his head. And then he seemed to toss it, and it lit the torches circling the centre ring.
He smiled around at us in the sudden brightness. “Thank you all for joining us this evening. I do deeply hope you enjoyed the show. I invite you to join us in the lounge where our performers will greet you all and will be most delighted to accept any admiration you might wish to bestow.”
There was smattering of applause, and as Flaire raised his hands, it grew into a crescendo as though he was an orchestra conductor. The audience's cries and cheers became deafening. Flaire beamed proudly out at them, and then he dropped his arms. The applause did not stop, but it seemed staggered, as though he had somehow struck out at them all, stealing their breath.
And then, once again, he disappeared in a puff of sunny yellow smoke.
The tumultuous applause lasted for several more minutes. The tent flooded with light, and I peered keenly around at our fellow guests. Their expressions ranged from delighted to exalted, but there were as many others whose slavish admiration invoked a certain unease. Something had been done to these people, of that I was sure. What it was and precisely how long it would last was another matter. Certainly the condition was not permanent. I had met many who had visited the circus, some of whom attended as often as space permitted. They appeared none the worse for the experience.
These people would, I hoped, snap out of their queer trance before the ship set down tomorrow morning. After several moments, in a single motion, the audience rose to their feet to make their orderly way towards the lounge. My companions and I waited, watching them. They did not appear harmed in any way, but their eyes were glazed, their faces stretched into wide, buoyant grins.
Vera rose with them. “Darling, where are your manners?” Her voice was so playful, Asher stared up at her without comprehension until I nudged him.
“Sorry, Mother. Of course.” He bolted up to offer his arm. “Astrid?”
“Do go on ahead. We will make our way shortly.”
He did not look particularly happy about this, but his mother marched forward without awaiting him, and he stumbled after her.
“What do you reckon, Astrid?” Xander asked. His bright blue eyes swept the audience as they marched blithely out of the arena.
“I do reckon our client was not wrong. It does appear as though they've been hypnotised.”
“Perhaps it is merely a reaction to the smoke or the lighting. Perhaps they simply imbibed too immodestly before the show,” Juliana said, though she did not sound as though she had convinced herself.
“Perhaps, but I suspect there is something far more sinister afoot on this ship. And I fully intend to discover precisely what that is.” I rose and gestured grandly towards the curtain. “Shall we be off then and enjoy what new pleasures await us this evening?”
The lounge was clamorous with fevered voices when we emerged through the shimmering red curtain. Asher and Vera were seated at a nearby table. Vera chattered excitedly, regaling her long-suffering son with a litany of the evening's delights as though he had not, too, been in the audience. As we approached them, his face lit up with relief. The army of waiters streamed into the lounge, passing around glasses of wine, and we all accepted one gratefully.
“But what are we to do now, Astrid?” Juliana asked softly over Vera's droning voice. The matron seemed not to notice our conversation. Indeed, she turned to another table beside us, engaging the elegant-looking elderly couple in conversation, the subject of which sounded to be nothing more substantial than their unrestrained admiration of the performance. “We can't very well search the place while everyone is wandering around and the guards are watching out for us.”
I waved my hand carelessly. “I am certain we will find a way. We always do.”
There did not seem to be a suitable solution to the problem at hand, but I sipped my crisp wine and hoped for the best. It came in the form of a young waiter carrying a folded slip of parchment on his tray. “This arrived for you, madame.”
I exchanged the missive for a shilling. I smiled. I had not expected providence to step in so promptly, but, given our limited time frame, I was most grateful for it. I unfolded the parchment with a flourish and skimmed the contents. It was quite brief.
Mrs D,
I humbly request the honour of your exquisite company on the observation deck at 10pm for a breathtaking experience amongst the clouds.
Yours Respectfully,
E
I suspected Eitenne's desire was not a private liaison. I doubted very much I ran to his particular tastes. “But what is it, Astrid?” Asher demanded, his brow furrowed ever slightly as though he might suspect the young funambulist's intentions were something more intimate.
“Ah. Well, I believe we may have found our deus ex machina.” I handed the parchment to him, and he snatched it greedily from my fingers.
His frown deepened. “But this is extremely inappropriate.”
I rolled my eyes. “What is it, Astrid?” Xander asked.
“It is a note from our client to meet on the observation deck...” I extracted my beloved pocket watch and examined it. “In approximately an hour. Despite Asher's tremendous misinterpretation, I expect he wishes to discuss the case.” The din in the floating lounge suddenly intensified, and I craned my neck to discover the cause. Clowns, funambulists, animal tamers and the other circus players streamed into the room through rustling, shimmering curtains all around us. “Ah. And here are the players now. I do desire another look at the dramatic master Flaire, don't you?”
Asher smiled. “I do indeed.” His smile slipped as he turned towards Vera. “Mother, are you quite well?”
She turned back to him and beamed serenely. “Oh, yes, darling. I've never felt better. It's as though a weight has lifted from my shoulders.”
Asher's brow knitted together. He did not appear as though this reassured him, but there was little he could do for the woman's soaring spirits. She would, I suspected, be quite all right in the morning. He rose and offered me his hand. “Xander, do keep an eye on my mother, won't you?”
“My primary function in this entourage, Asher, in case you have not had occasion to realise, is expertise in the many fields of science and its application, as well as a keen sense of adventure and the unique ability to keep my aunt's head firmly rooted in reality. Have you, in any of that, somehow deduced that I am particularly skilled at babysitting?”
I laughed. “Dear Xander, you do spend too much time in my company.”
Juliana rolled her eyes. “Do not worry yourself, Agent Key. Your mother is in excellent care. Should Xander fail to perform to the standards you expect, I shall send him for more drinks and shoulder the prodigious responsibilities on my own.”
“Astrid, truly, your influence on these young people is distu
rbing.”
“Aye, I think I do agree. Step lively, then. I believe I have just spied the mysterious ringmaster. Do you fancy a meeting?”
Asher smiled. “I believe I rather do.”
The throng surrounding the ringmaster was quite formidable, but Asher and I were quite adept at weaving our way through a crowd. We were before the ruddy featured Dr Flaire in mere moments. His dark eyes glittered with a feverish intensity I had seen before in stage actors after a particularly well-applauded performance. His eyes narrowed for an ephemeral instant as they fell upon Asher and me, but he stretched his mouth into a brilliant white smile.
“Well, Mr Flaire,” I greeted, inclining my head to him. “Quite an impressive showcase, I must say.”
He dipped at the waist in a sharp sort of bow. “Madame, you flatter me. I am most delighted our little carnival so entertained you.” He straightened and proffered a hand to me. “May I request the pleasure of your name, good lady?”
I did not for a single moment believe he did not already know it. “I am Astrid Darby, sir. And this is my dear friend and erstwhile colleague Asher Key of the Ministry of Defence.”
“Ah. Indeed. Well. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His expression did not change, but something in his eyes did. It was not, I suspected, quite the pleasure he asserted.
“What an utterly pleasing and novel concept you have here, Mr