Good question. “I still have a lot of doubts. The thunder is answering me, but I’m not confident in my ability to wield it as the weapon I’ll need it to be.”
Gideon glanced at the clearing sky. “Looks like you were making a good start toward recovery.”
“But I could be so much more, more than I ever was before. My thunder could be like a sword, or an arrow. If I was properly trained, I could strike one man in a group of thousands. I could spread it out like a net and take down hundreds. The thunder and storms could topple trees and bring down boulders from the mountaintops.”
“And you’re convinced the Fantazikes could help with that? What do they know about being a goddess?”
I shrugged. “Their matriarch, Justina, said she could help, and I don’t know what else to do. They do live in the skies. If anyone understands the storms, it would be them.”
“You think we can trust them?”
I met Gideon’s gaze. In the flickering light of Falak’s lantern, his face was a puzzle of shadows. I took his hand and squeezed his fingers. “I think we’ll have to.”
A silhouette shifted behind Falak and stepped into his lantern light, revealing the familiar lines and wrinkles composing Camilla Bianchi’s face. Her long white hair fluttered in the breeze, making her look ghostly and spectral. Immediately I dipped into a curtsey.
She clucked, sucking her tongue against her teeth, and gestured for me to stand. “Capisco si sta cercando per i Fantazikes.”
Falak translated. “She says she knows you’re looking for the Fantazikes.”
Surprise pricked me like a brief electric shock. I hadn’t hidden my intentions, but neither had I publicized the nature of my quest or the reasons why I had asked Falak to let me join the circus. But as I studied her, I realized her striking eyes—the ones I’d noticed when we first met—were the color of jewels, like emeralds—a common Fantazike trait. “I am.”
Camilla glanced at the ringmaster and said something more. Her gaze returned to me, and she waited. Falak exhaled like an anxious horse and gave Camilla a curious look. “She wants to help you in your quest.”
“How can she do that?”
Falak glanced at Camilla again, shifted his weight, and rubbed the back of his neck. His dark eyebrows drew together, and he frowned. “The one you’re looking for, the leader of the Fantazikes. She’s, uh...she’s Camilla’s sister. On your behalf, Camilla’s willing to make contact and ask them to come to you.”
My thoughts went utterly blank. My mind spun like a wheel broken loose from its wagon.
“Evie?” Falak asked, squeezing my shoulder.
“Why would she do that?”
“You saved her grandchildren. She says she owes you a favor.”
I blinked, shook off my stupor, and turned to Gideon. “Before he left us in the Omeg Mountains, Niffin’s father said the world was a much smaller place than most people believed.”
Gideon gave Camilla a dubious look. “I guess he knew what he was talking about.”
“If they are willing to come,” I said to Camilla, “then please ask them to send the Tippanys. They once said I’d always be welcome. Let’s hope they really meant it.”
After the troupe had lost its curiosity about me and my storms, they shuffled off to their wagons and closed their doors and windows. Even Sher-sah sauntered away, presumably returning to his guard duty. I signaled to Gideon, Genevieve, and Falak to follow me to Svieta’s wagon. The tinkerer had not attended my performance with the rest of the crowd, and I suspected that casting spells, bringing spirits back from the Shadowlands, and replacing life-sustaining body parts must have exhausted her. The poor woman deserved a long, undisturbed sleep.
Too bad, because I need her help.
“Where are we going?” the princess asked. “I’m tired. I want to go back to bed.”
Gideon offered his arm. I leaned on him, accepting his strength. “Sleep can wait. What we need to discuss now is more important. Le Poing Fermé isn’t going to stop chasing me.”
When we reached Svieta’s wagon, I rapped on the back doors and waited. “My being here has put the circus in danger. I’m willing to bet a great deal that Le Poing Fermé has got something planned for our arrival in Barsava, and there’s no reason why we should be sitting ducks.”
The lantern light exaggerated the lines on Falak’s when he grimaced. He looked like a grumpy goblin. “Those concerns had crossed my mind, as well.”
“Gideon and I could leave,” I said. My guardian stiffened at my side, obviously dubious of my pronouncement, but he kept his objections to himself. Perhaps he was learning to trust my judgment. “We’ll leave tonight if you ask us to, but I think I have a better idea.”
Falak snorted. “As if you’re in any shape to ride.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Gideon grumbled.
A sleepy, puffy-faced Svieta opened her door and peered at us with a confused look. Falak glanced at the tinkerer, then at me. “Let’s hear your idea, Lady Thunder. And let’s hope it’s a good one.”
Chapter 25
Near lunchtime, Le Cirque rolled into an empty field along the main road leading into the heart of Barsava. The moment the wagon train stopped, the troupe leapt to work, setting up tents and booths. Genevieve had insisted I stay in Falak’s wagon and rest, but too much time in bed had driven me stir crazy. I was anxious and on edge, as if danger lurked around every corner. After our meeting with Svieta the night before, I’d slept fitfully, and I welcomed the morning sun. Something about sunlight felt safe, like bad things couldn’t happen to me in the glaring daylight, even if I’d disproved that notion multiple times before.
As Genevieve worked in Gepennio’s cook wagon, preparing for the midday meal, I stood beside her, staring out the window, watching Gideon carrying one end of a huge wooden beam. Without being asked, he’d lent his muscle to the team responsible for constructing the main tent. He’d discarded his travelling coat and waistcoat and had rolled up his shirt sleeves. He wore his collar open, and a breeze played with his hair.
“He really is something to see, isn’t he?” Genevieve dunked a cutting board into her dishpan and scrubbed it, removing the remnants of juice from the onion she’d recently chopped. “And he’s utterly dedicated to you. Lucky girl.”
A flush rose in my cheeks. “We’ve been through a lot together.”
“And yet here you are, watching him from afar. If I were you, I’d snatch him up, go find an empty wagon and—”
I tugged the clean cutting board from her hands, interrupting her musings. “Don’t finish that sentence.”
She grinned like a cat who had caught a mouse. “I see how you look at him.”
“That’s my business, not yours.”
