In which the Circus departs for parts unknown

Clang, clang!! The ringing sound of steel filled the grassy clearing on the outskirts of Orleans, startling a flock of starlings, which disappeared as a cloud of shadow with a flutter of wings and calls of distress. Asmodeus, in the engine room deep in the hull of his airship, unbent his weary body, pipe wrench clutched in his hand, which he had been wielding with ruthless abandon. The mass of iron and brass before him choked and sputtered to life, pistons churning and pipes steaming. He turned around to gaze upon the stricken faces of the stagehands huddled in the dim light of the ship’s hold, frozen mid-task to gaze in terror at this wild-haired, and equally wild-eyed, man hunched Neanderthal over the defenseless steam engine. With a grin, Asmodeus tossed the wrench into a pile in the corner of the hold with a hollow thump. “And that, gents,” he exclaimed over the rhythmic convulsions of the engine, “is how you handle an uncooperative element.” The stagehands grimaced at one another, imagining which ‘uncooperative element’ would next fall under the vigourous ‘laying of wrench’ just demonstrated and, much to Asmodeus’ pleasure, set about stowing gear and preparing the ship with a renewed spirit. Engine in operation and crew busily engaged, Asmodeus gave the many dials and gauges one last cursory check before climbing the small stair to the main deck.

The summer air filled his lungs, bringing the heady aroma of wildflowers and other growing things, while the bright sun shone down on him from a cloudless sky of deepest azure. He closed his eyes, feeling its warmth on his face as he braced his hands on the carved wood of the railing. He listened to the quiet of the afternoon, the last sounds of the circus dying away as equipment was packed and ships made ready for flight, fading into the trill of cicadas and their ilk. The balloon’s rigging creaked slowly in a faint breeze. Perfect day for a sail, he complacently thought.

With this thought in mind, and a smile beaming from his face, Asmodeus took the steps to the quarterdeck two at a time and grabbed hold of the railing at the top, swinging easily around to stand before the ship’s wheel. Control panels were bolted into place to the left and right, polished brass displays gleaming within their darkly stained wood casings. Altimeter, speedometer, pressure gauge; all were in proper working order. Asmodeus leaned into a small funnel on his right. “Engine room,” he intoned, “Alright lads, let’s give her some fuel.”

The boys in the hold loaded coal into the big furnace, the flames flaring and dancing wildly in their iron cage. Asmodeus flipped a switch, and a hiss escaped from several bends in the pipes as the steam wound its way through the circuit. Drive shafts mounted on the hull began turning, slowly at first, the spider-leg struts kneading the apparatus into motion with ever increasing speed. Another switch flipped under Asmodeus’ familiar touch, and a hatch slid open above the boiler, the smokestack feeding into the gold and purple balloon hovering stationary above the craft. The great bladder began to swell, soft creases smoothed under the mounting pressure, the rigging straining and groaning in its fight to tether the beast. Asmodeus looked back, and gave the other ships a signal. They began to follow his lead by filling their balloons and slipping anchor cables.

The craft glided smoothly into the air, a sigh of farewell escaping the wood of the hull as it became seemingly weightless in its newfound buoyancy. Asmodeus spoke into the comm. tube. “Engage propellers.” The ship shook softly, accompanied by a grinding thump as gear met cog, the vessel vaulting just above the nearby trees before veering off in a southerly course over white stone facades and gray shingled roofs. Farewell, Orleans, Asmodeus mused. You showed us a fine time. Throwing the wheel hard to port, he turned his gaze from the crowded streets to the waiting horizon stretching out before him, his ship seeming to chase the sun on its western descent. A look behind showed the entire circus caravan keeping pace, a string of colors trailing like a living rainbow.

He grinned as he noticed the fortuneteller’s airship following first in line, then removed a small folded paper from his coat pocket. The wind whistled past his ears, whipping playfully at the note. After leaving Marie to spread the news of their imminent departure, Asmodeus had taken a ride into town to get his money’s worth out of the carriage before having to return it. Afterwards, he took a stroll to the telegraph to call in a favor and mere minutes later Asmodeus received the wire he now held in his hands.

Some years back, the retainer for a nobleman in Bavaria had been visiting London, and attended one of Asmodeus’ performances. With a little nudging, he managed to book the circus an act at his lord’s birthday celebrations. Grinning at the adventures that certainly awaited, Asmodeus returned the note to his coat, glanced at a compass tilting lazily beside the wheel, and set his prow for Munich.