Chapter Eight
She darted past him and glimpsed his own coin purse under his fine tunic. Up and down her tiny knife went and she shoved his purse under her shirt. She kept on and jumped between two tents. She heard him behind her. “I never forget a face, girl, even under a mask! I'll have the King's Guard after you before midnight!”
She wove through the masked crowds, and her fear was making every one of her steps feel slow and choppy. A drunken woman dressed as the goddess of love fell on her, and Kara shoved her off with more force than she meant to. She slowed when she squeezed past the rope that marked the carny campgrounds. She saw no one about, so she hurried over to her tent to catch her breath and let her body stop shaking. She needed a moment of peace before she went and reported her failings to Malone.
She collapsed on her blanket, her knees still shaking as she clamped her hands on them. She had been a thief for a year and had never gotten caught until tonight.
As her breathing and heart rate slowed to normalcy, she rested her forehead on her drawn up legs, wondering where she had gone wrong. How had she not seen such an enormous man nearby? Was she losing her touch, her wariness, her observation skills, her speed?
Would Malone kick her out of the carnival? That gave her a whole new shudder of fear. There was no way she could survive on her own in the wilds between civilizations. The King's Posts kept most of the monsters from the mists at bay, but more and more had been slipping through. There were too many things afoot looking for prey. She had been raised on a Lord's estates, doing work in the kitchen and house. She had no idea how to find safe food out there or how to avoid the monsters...
And how on earth would she free her mother if she was busy trying to figure out which berries would not kill her if she ate them?
Civilization represented a whole other kind of danger. She was a lone female, young, a stranger to any town. If she was lucky she could get a position as a maid at a Lord's manor, but once again she would not earn the coin to free her mother in a decade. There were only two lines of work she could do that would free her mother sooner.
She could be a whore or a thief. She chose thief, though it left a bitter taste in her throat. A sudden thought struck her. If Malone kicks me out, I will just thieve on my own.
She took three deep breaths and stood up to see Malone. She did not want to do any thieving on her own, not truly. The carnival was the closest thing she had to family right now, and offered a steady supply of food, some safety, and coin. That was about as good as it got for an unwed woman in this kingdom.
She went out into the night, hurrying now, determined to get this over with. Maybe she would be demoted...
She snorted at that. She could not get demoted any further, except as a roadie. They swept the grounds, built the tents, broke them back down, kept the lamps going, and did all the endless other general chores. They got a measly wage of five bronze coins a week for such hard labor. She could work hard every day of her life until she was an old woman of forty and still not free her mother.
As she was thinking of all the outcomes of her failure, her feet had carried her to Malone's wagon. Her door was open and a thin waft of smoke trailed out into the sticky night.
Kara took a final deep breath and climbed the steps, knocking on the door frame with white knuckles.
“Come in,” Malone's voice sounded tired like it always did. She was stretched out on her red velvet divan, smoking a thin cigar with heavily painted lips. She gave Kara a look. “You're early. Shouldn't you be working, relieving the marks of their hard-earned coin?”
Kara faced her directly, refusing to show weakness. “I can't go back out. I got caught. He said he got a good look at my face even under the mask.”
Malone tapped an inch of ash into a plain clay cup. She asked, “Scared I'll be mad?”
Kara nodded, her stomach full of knots.
“You've been working here a year and this is the first time you have gotten caught. I'm actually impressed with you. Most get caught their first week.”
Her fears rushed out of her despite her silent resolution to not show weakness. “You're not going to kick me out or demote me?”
Malone sat up, her cheap cotton robe wrinkled where her side had crushed it. “No. You earn triple the others. Just give me what you got and take the rest of the night off to explain how things work around here to that new girl. The odd one.”
She fumbled the two purses out. “What if the man comes back and looks for me?”
“Most don't. He was probably drunk and won't even remember the color of your hair.”
Kara had smelled his breath. It had smelled like fried onions and mustard, without a hint of ale...
“Here.” Malone dug in a quivering pile of junk and pulled out a red pasteboard mask, painted with a vibrant flame motif. “Wear a different mask.” She blew off some ash and dust that had collected on it. “That should hide you well enough.”
Kara swallowed and said, “Okay. Thank you.” She reached out and took the proffered mask. It was pretty, the design covering more of her face than the one she was wearing. Funny how she never thought to take off her mask until bed...
“It doesn't matter if he remembers you or not. We're packing up. Tomorrow night is the last night here. Perfect time for the new girl to start.”
“I didn't know we were leaving.” She and Icari would only have tomorrow to try and free the unicorn...
“Yep. One more night and we're going to set up on the King's Lands near Lord Brahm's estates. He don't like our kind much, but he has to tolerate us thanks to the King's insistence.”
Kara inhaled sharply and a deluge of conflicting emotions assaulted her. She could see her old friends around the estate if she snuck back, her mother, the townspeople...
And possibly her father, half-sister, and Lady Brahm.
Malone asked, “What?” Her gaze went out of focus the tiniest bit then understanding crossed her face. “That's were we found you. I remember. You were running from the Lord's estates, pursued by a girl on a horse.”
Kara nodded, her tongue dry. She hoped Malone would respect the unspoken rules of the carnival and not ask her any more details.
Malone stretched back out on her divan. “Go find the strange girl. Lyla. Teach her. If she can't do thieving, she'll be a roadie and that's hard on girls.” Malone stroked her cheek. “She's young and attractive. She could work with Dee Dee...”
Kara stared at her with horror. Dee Dee was the madame, and her 'girls' worked on their backs or knees. Most had open sores and aching joints, bouts of fever and a constant rainbow of fading bruises. Their patrons could not see the sores under darkness of night and mistook the warmth of their skin for summer heat...
Looking at them under the bright morning light as they queued up for their bowl of breakfast grub reminded Kara every day why she would rather be a thief than a whore.
Kara said, “I'll teach her how to spot marks and take their purses.”
Malone shrugged as if she lost interest. She was staring at a half empty bottle of wine, and Kara took that as her dismissal. She stepped out, yelling, “Bye!”
She started looking for Lyla, her new mask in hand. Worry gnawed low in her gut at the thought of trying to mold Lyla into a thief in one night. She spotted her by the elephant pens, under a flickering lamp attached to a pole. She was stroking a baby elephant's trunk as it slid up and wrapped around her elbow. She giggled and rubbed his fuzzy, bumpy head.
Kara went and stood beside her, suddenly shy. She noticed Naomi had been unable to tame Lyla's hair. It hung in matted clumps about her face and down her neck.
Lyla turned to her, her purple eyes shining. Some element of standing under the moonlight suited her perfectly. Her skin seemed to glow with the subtlest of luminescence and her gaze whispered of secrets only revealed under the pale moon's watch.
Kara said, “Hey.” She scuffed her foot on the packed earth. “You like Baboo here?”
“He is a treasu
re. He tells me he enjoys it when the crowds throw peanuts, though he and his mother would rather go back to their family in the southern lands.”
She chuckled. “Elephants can't talk.”
“They can. It is a matter of listening.”
Kara sighed and said, “Lyla, I like you and everything, so I am going to give you some advice. People can't talk to animals in a way the animal understands, and the animals can't talk to people. Well, except for ravens and parrots. It makes you sound crazy when you say stuff like that.”
Lyla smiled. “I am not crazy. My ways are just different than yours.”
Kara shrugged. “I guess it doesn't matter if everyone thinks you are crazy if you don't care. Most people working here are either crazy, alcoholics, drug addicts, or fugitives.”
Lyla's face fell. “I do sense much sorrow here under the false merriment.”
“Whose sorrow?”
She shook her head. “As you told me, it will make me sound crazy if I speak of feeling another's sorrow.”
Kara hesitated, curious. Lyla seemed sincere...
But so did the madmen who ranted nonsense on roadsides. She switched subjects quickly. “If you want to stay on with the carnival, you have got to start working.”
“Working?”
“Earning coin. Money.”
“My people usually barter, but I am familiar with the human urge to collect coins.”
This conversation was getting weirder by the minute. Did Lyla think she was not human? She spoke as if 'human' urges were not her own. Kara took a deep breath (it seemed like she had been taking a lot of those lately) and said, “You've got to be a pickpocket like me. Or be a roadie.” She did not even mention the possibility of whoring.
Lyla sighed and scratched the elephant under the ear. “What is a pickpocket?”
Kara realized this was going to be a very long night.