The Show Must Go On: The Plotting Begins

Alexandra carefully wound her way through the crowd waiting in line to get good seats for the evening circus show. Keeping the growing crowd entertained were small side stages and booths where circus hands and performers could sell food or wares to the crowd.

However, once she rounded the corner of the main tent the only people visible were stage hands and performers getting ready for the evening. The fortune teller was thinking over her conversation with Christophe as she walked and didn’t notice where she was going until she tripped over a large tent stake that was sticking out of the ground. Frantically throwing her arms out for balance, Alexandra tried to fall as gracefully as she could until she felt herself caught by two strong hands around her waist which pulled her upright. Turning, the fortune teller expected to see one of the stage hands who would gently tease her that she should get her mind out of the stars and concentrate on walking. Instead, Alexandra found herself face to face with Asmodeus, looking charming in his waistcoat and top hat. He lifted the goggles onto his forehead and winked at her, a devilish grin playing about his lips. “You should watch where you’re going, my dear, I might not be there to catch you next time.”

Alexandra lifted her chin as she straightened the shawl around her shoulders. “I’m not made out of china, you know, a fall wouldn’t have hurt me.”

“Well aware; just don’t want you to get a black eye or split lip. It wouldn’t set the right tone for our performance.” Asmodeus said as he picked his cane up from the grass where he dropped it, plucking a bright orange daylily from seemingly nowhere.

“Our performance?” Alexandra asked, blatantly ignoring the token.

“Yes. We’re going to a show tonight.”

“Honestly, Asmodeus, if this is a ploy to get under my skirt, it isn’t a very good one.”

“On the contrary; I’ve come up with a rather ingenious plan to chase Hirondelle out of Orleans.”

“Oh really? And what, pray tell, does this plan involve?” Alexandra looked scathingly at him; while Asmodeus’ schemes usually worked out quite successfully, he had quite a few spectacular failures as well. And Alexandra did not want to be a part of a scheme that crashed and burned.

“You see,” Asmodeus began, gesticulating feverishly, “the plan’ll work like this: Marguerite will devise a hellish stink that her loyal creatures and Marie can place strategically in the tent of Hirondelle. Each will be on a timer to go off exactly at the same time, filling the tent with an unearthly stench that will drive the crowds out into the open fields for a breath of fresh air. Meanwhile, I will be in said field posing as a prosperous gentleman of some wealth talking with his lovely wife: you.” At which Asmodeus cracked a wicked smile. “As the crowds leave the tent, we will talk a little too loudly about how in light of Hirondelle’s tragic accident before the show Vapeur will be honoring the Hirondelle’s tickets as half off Vapeur’s tickets. Making it only one shilling per person instead of two.”

“Hmm…” Alexandra pondered the proposal. She knew it was tame compared to some of his other schemes but it would mean pretending to romance Asmodeus in public. However, crazy as it sounds, it might just work. “Very well,” The fortune teller finally agreed, “I’ll do it.”

Asmodeus’ face lit up in a devilish grin; he had won this round with his lovely rival. The magician made an elaborate bow and caught her hand, kissing it quickly before she could pull away. “Then I will meet you tonight, my darling wife, at 7pm sharp in front of your ship. And make sure to wear something charming.”

With a resigned sigh, Alexandra withdrew her hand from Asmodeus’ and nodded in agreement. “For once, I agree with you. Vapeur’s fortune teller is too obvious of a character to be seen at Hirondelle. I’ll see you in an hour.” She turned, and began walking briskly back to her ship.

Once Alexandra had rounded the corner and was out of sight, Asmodeus tossed his cane triumphantly in the air and caught it as he threw his head back and laughed at the success of the first stage of his genius plan.

The show must go on

Colette braced her hands against her dressing table, safe within the narrow confines of her own cabin once more. She probably could have afforded a larger ship, but she liked the small space, the embrace of worn wood surrounding her and dulling the noise of the outside world. She stared at her reflection in the dusty mirror. "Showtime," she whispered to herself, beginning her preparations for another night. Bold makeup was expertly applied to emphasize her eyes and catch the audience's attention. She pulled her hair smoothly back so that it could hide under her gleaming top hat, she wiped her palms nervously and downed a small glass of an angry liquor, settled her nerves. All traces of anxiety or confusion had to be smoothed away before she exited this little cabin. She had to be ready to take the reigns of the little show and drive it through the next few grueling hours without any mishaps.

The competition in town may have thinned the crowds a little, but the story of the explosion--being spread through town by little Marie at this very moment, if she guessed correctly--would bring in a wave of would-be witnesses to another spectacle. "Tempting Fate," was one of the circus world's claims to fame, and it was certain that in this bustling town, half their audience tonight would be hoping to see some trapeze artist fall, some animal attack, some area of the camp ground bloom with flames. It would be entertaining, more so than a typical circus. She wanted to feed the increased enthusiasm for danger without actually putting her cast in more danger than could be avoided. Even typical shows had their death-defying elements, and tonight's would have to push the limits if they wanted to impress the crowd and intimidate Jacque in the same night. There were a few roustabouts right now constructing a few impressive fiery displays, a sort of homage to the burning wreckage that had been cleared from the camp grounds only hours earlier. Tonight should get the town talking, to say the very least.

There were wheels in motion, turning and spinning and bringing all recent events to one spectacular conclusion--if luck would have it. Colette felt that luck had not been on her side in a while. She reached out, brushed a thumb over a short note that was stuck into the frame of the mirror. "Thanks--love you, A." She'd done her brother some favour as a young girl, had woken to find the note wrapped around a small coin and a wilted flower. She'd kept it, of course, as girls often keep tokens from those they admire. After his death, she'd started holding onto ever scrap of cloth he'd worn or even touched. Her favourite red jacket had been his, and she'd had it tailored to suit her new job.

Tailor... Colette paused in her ministrations. The Vapeur's resident seamstress had a knack for acutely accurate perceptions of events both present and past, when the mood struck her and the cards favoured her. Colette's brow wrinkled in thought. No reason not to look a little ahead, yes? Just to make sure that everyone would be safe. Jacque was a murderous cad, yes? She had to protect her circus, yes? And what better way than to strike first?

"After all," she told her reflection innocently. "I know we don't want to let this prank war escalate. Why not deal the final blow now, instead of dragging it out?" Her reflection stared back agreeably. Colette drummed her fingers on the scratched wooden surface. "It wouldn't be difficult, would it? If a stink bomb can be smuggled into the ring--as is being tested now--why not a poison? And, if not the ring--too many casualties, too much attention (not that they're innocent)--then why not someone's quarters? Oh, I don't know. Jacque's. For example." Her reflection merely stared.

Colette inspected her nails. "If the bomb succeeds tonight, we'll pay our merry seamstress a visit. See if an unfortunate accident just so happens to lie in the Hirondelle's future." She picked up her top hat and tucked it under her arm, coiling her whip in one hand as the liquor snaked through her veins, finally calming her and quieting her nagging doubts. "Just as a precaution, of course. No need to do anything rash."

"Of course," agreed the mirror's face. "That would be absurd."

Exit Ringmaster.

The Show Must Go On: Gears Are Turning

Stagehands and performers were bustling about the grassy sward like bees in a hive, cleaning up the last remaining wreckage of Marguerite’s balloon and preparing for the night’s performance. Lights were going up in the main tent and on lines around the circus ground, like dozens of fireflies twinkling into existence. There was a sort of buzzing in the air; the mingled voices of so many conversations from those enthusiasts lining up to get good seats at the night’s performance. A breeze still weaved and sighed its way amongst the outlying trees, dancing across the tops of the tents to caress Asmodeus’ cheek. It was not a wind that (belies/portends) the oncoming storm but a comforting breathe that sends the low clouds to racing, set ablaze in the light of the setting sun.

Asmodeus made his way calmly but quickly through these happenings, this organized chaos, headed for the zodiac-patterned balloon and tent wherein he would find Alexandra. Colette had her circus to manage. Marguerite and Marie would be making for the market by now, acquiring the necessary ingredients for the night’s shenanigans. All that was left was for Asnodeus and Alexandra to play their part, and it was a game he was very much looking forward to. In all honesty (and when was he totally honest?), he desperately hoped that his conspirators in this plan were oblivious to his obvious favoring in assignments. Certainly a man with a mind for science such as his could have been valuable to Marguerite in the preparation of their repugnatorial weapons. And Marie could have easily filled the role of spokesperson… but no! It caused Asmodeus physical pain to think of missing this opportunity; a night out with his greatest romantic adversary. She would have no excuse not to go with him to Hirondelle’s performance.

Suddenly a man in a top hat and overcoat hurried through the crowd, his shoulder glancing Asmodeus’ by accident, snatching his mind away from these private musings. After the customary apologies, Asmodeus turned back towards the fortune-teller’s tent, in time to spot a golden-haired beauty in a dark shawl emerge from behind the flaps, and set off toward the main tent. Asmodeus quickened his pace considerably, adjusting his course to take him around the other side of the main tent. The hunt was on.

The Show Must Go On: The Rumor Mill

Given an hour to wander before she had to meet Margeurite, Marie kept herself occupied. She darted off to change - it wouldn't do to wander the streets in her muddy skirt - and set off into the city.

The area immediately around the Cirque's grounds was all a-bustle - she lingered at a few street vendor's stalls, turning over books she could not read and odd little trinkets and scarves in her hands so that she could listen to the conversations drifting past. "An accident, I'm sure," one gentleman said reassuringly to his wife, who tutted in a very ladylike way. "It was that scientist woman... Really, I can't imagine what came over her, a lady in such a dangerous and unwomanly trade..." said another, lips pursed thinly. Marie watched him pass out of the corner of her eyes, and directed a rude gesture at his back.

But there were more promising whispers floating. "Oh, the show's goin' on," she heard someone reassure a friend. "By the time I ran by just now they'd got it all cleaned up and there were a couple'a girls turning tumbles and jugglers playin' for coins and sellin' tickets, merry as you please." Marie smiled - leave it to the other acrobats to keep the crowds amused while the ringleader and her confidants spun their plots.

"Horrible thing, that," the vendor said conversationally. "Heard it all the way from here." Marie looked up from examining his wares with a sweet smile.

"Oh, it was awful," she said breathlessly. "No one hurt, though, and the show goes on." She glanced over her shoulder, and dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper: "I hear that other circus did it, you know."

When she turned to leave for the church with a friendly wave, she had one of the penny pies the man was selling slipped in her pocket unnoticed, and the vendor re-telling the story, with great embellishment, to a curious bystander.

She finished her supper on the church steps, and accompanied Marguerite on her odd errands. The drama of the afternoon's events hadn't reached quite so far out into the wealthier districts of the city, but Marie amused herself watching the odd exchange with the priest - she particularly liked the description of Marguerite as "the woman with the abominations" - and it seemed that altogether the outing was a success. She couldn't make heads nor tails of what the ingredients they'd sought were, but Marguerite seemed please enough, and Marie let her attention wander on the way back to the circus grounds.

When they arrived back, Marie hurried off on her next errands - animals and pouches. She shuddered once out of Marguerite's sight; though some of the animals were cute and even affectionate, they were mostly wild and bloody unnatural. Pouches first, then. It seemed like the sort of thing Alexandra might have, so she strolled in that direction, but the fortune teller's door was shut.

The tent was heavy enough to be relatively soundproof, to afford privacy to Alexandra's clients, but Marie knew there was a spot in the side where the fabric didn't quite reach the ground, and couldn't resist settling down by it to wait. Marie hadn't had her fortune told by Alexandra since their initial encounter years ago - she took it serious enough to not ask for anything trivial - but she liked to listen to the stories Alexandra spun for the everyday concerns of the circusgoers.

"...warn Colette?" she heard Alexandra say distantly from inside the tent. Marie gasped and leaned closer - that hardly sounded everyday at all.

"Yes..." a man's voice, slightly familiar, said. He spoke softly enough that she could only catch words: "...warn... don't know... Colette... trusts me... be warned... something terrible."

Alexandra said something, and there was silence and shuffling, and Marie quickly darted away from her less-than-sneaky spot crouched beside the tent before the mysterious gentleman left. She longed to find some way to see who he was, but when she came out from behind the tent, all she saw was the back of his coat and hat, already mixing in with the crowd. She let herself dither with worry for a moment, then shook her head as if to clear it.

By the time she had finished her dithering, Alexandra had left her tent anyway. Marie dithered a bit more, this time about rummaging through someone else's property, but eventually found a few little fabric pouches - decorated with fancy tea names in fancy writing, but now empty except for a few stray leaves - and hurried to find where the animals had been stowed after the explosion.

"Hello, little abominations," she said when she found them, and set to work, handling the creatures gingerly when tiny hooves and claws scratched harmlessly at her hands. She picked the gentlest and most intelligent little beasts - both seeming like needed traits for whatever Asmodeus had in mind - but they still gave her the willies, and they knew it. She wanted to dwell on what she'd overheard. There seemed to be a great deal of warning against this Jacques they were about to provoke... but the creatures demanded her full attention, and she gave up trying to piece things together. She finished her task and set them back in the baskets, and hurried off to find Asmodeus.

The Show Must Go On: Marketed

“Come Colette,” Marguerite said. “Round up the troops and prepare them for tonight. There’s no sense in squandering a night’s income for something so trivial as revenge.”

Marguerite finished her drink, already lost in a list of memories of bad smells.

“Of course,” Colette said. “I shall find you a booth to use for tonight.”

“Hm?”

“You may not have your old living space, but you can still put on a show, can’t you?”

“Of course I can, but not tonight, dear. I have some shopping to do. Oh, Marie, meet me in an hour’s time at the church across from South Market, will you?” She turned to Colette. “I’m sure you can spare her for the evening’s events?”

Colette nodded, and refrained from any further comments. Marguerite followed her feet overboard and away from the circus. If she hurried, she could reach a few destinations before the show hit its peak hours.

A coach ride later, Marguerite wondered at the street life she spotted on her way to Andre's city home. Her old friend had moved into a well-to-do part of the bustling blood clot of France, but Marguerite's impression of his financial situation the last time they met, nearly five years ago, made her wonder what side professions he had taken to.

The streets were well kept, and lamps were lit to illuminate the few passersby. Marguerite noted that her fellow pedestrians often sported some kind of shifty look, despite the well-off architecture. She also smelled the perfume of fine brothels from a couple of doorsteps, the wrought iron gates cleverly manipulated into suggestive shapes. She spotted numerous potential dens as well. The street corners were clear of prostitution, however, so Marguerite proceeded without need for her greatest senses of alert awakened.

The door swung open after Marguerite tapped it lightly. Andre's shaved head appeared at the crack, then his stocky frame was revealed, his arms spread in welcome.

"Marguerite! It has been too long, mon coeur."

They embraced and exchanged kisses on each cheek. Andre held Marguerite at arms length by her waist.

"My dear, you've changed so much, and I must say it is not a mark less spectacular than I recall, different though it may be," Andre said. His eyes wrinkled at the corners, a trait Marguerite never recalled that he had. Age, she supposed, must have affected her features much the same.

"Flattering as always. Andre, I hope you don't mind the hour. I am afraid it is the only time I have free with current business."

"Not at all, dear, not at all. My home is always open to you, I hope you know that."

He led her through a small front hall and into a well-lit kitchen furnished with a table large enough for two chairs and a tea set. Steam wafted from the spout of the teapot, and Andre gestured for Marguerite to sit in the chair already pulled out from the table.

"Try the biscuits," he said, passing her a plate of them while he poured the tea.

“I would love to at any other time, but I also fear that tonight’s visit must be quick and demanding.”

“I would have expected as much from you, Rita.”

“This is no joking matter, Andre. I have recently been subjected to arson.”

Andre looked over Marguerite. She could tell he smelled the lingering smoke and musk of frightened animals, however well sealed the pockets were.

“What do you remember from your days as a school boy in terms of pranks?”

Andre chuckled.

“You have an odd sense of the serious. What kind of pranks?”

“Any kind involving unpleasant odors, preferably easily transported, hidden, and conveniently timed.”

“I know just the thing. What do you have in the way of supplies?”

“At the moment, nothing. But I have an assistant waiting for us at a very convenient location for acquiring such supplies.”

“Very well then. Let’s be off.”

Andre fetched his bowler and cloak, following Marguerite to the coach. At the appointed time, they arrived at the South Market church. Marie sat in front of a statue, her legs swinging from the edge of the marble pedestal. She eyed Marguerite’s companion with suspicion when they approached.

“Marie, we are ready for some business at last. In here, if you please.” Marguerite gestured towards the church.

Marie cocked her head to view the impressive church doors, and then turned to look at the marketplace bustling across the road.

“Um… I suppose you realize the market is…”

“I never said we were going to the market, dear,” Marguerite said, flashing a grin.

The building contained the usual Catholic rigidity, perfectly Romanesque with some modern tastes in drapery adorning the altar and sconces. Andre and Marguerite led the way through the pews, the main entrance having led them into the side of the building. Upon walking down the center aisle, a middle-aged priest stuck his head out of a side door. His slicked-back hair shone in the lamplight from the altar, and as he stepped forth the left arm of his clerical clothing glinted slightly.

“Andre, what did I tell you about announcing yourself? I can’t keep this business relationship if you squander it on social calls.” He hissed. He had a nasal voice offset by a low timbre, making him sound as though he had a cold.

“Father, forgive me, but this is urgent. There are wrongs to be righted.” Andre gestured to Marguerite. The priest squinted, stepped closer, and gasped.

“You’re that woman with the abominations! You nearly cost me my finger!” He held up his left hand, causing his sleeve to sparkle again.

“Forgive me as well, Father, but I have some… unorthodox business with you.”

The priest examined Marguerite. After a few moments, he nodded.

“Fine, but only because business is slow. What room?”

Andre coughed and turned away. Marie bit her lip to keep from laughing, but a giggle still escaped. The sound danced all the way to the rafters before Marguerite responded.

“I would not have asked if that were my intention, Father.” The priest showed no sign of remorse as she continued. “I am after certain goods that Andre says you possess.”

When the priest hesitated again, Andre spoke.

“Father Edgar, please. We are in a hurry.”

Marie snickered again, causing Marguerite to raise an eyebrow at her. She quieted quickly.

“Enough of this, Andre.” Marguerite slapped Father Edgar, who yelped. She then grabbed his shiny sleeve by the cuff, pulling until the silver threads opened a hidden pocket with a key. Marguerite took it. “Now, you will tell us where we will find what we need,” she said, pocketing the key. “And we will deal fairly.” In its place, Marguerite stuffed the pocket with money. “That should cover our expenses.”

“The den two blocks from market is the storage building. You’ll find whatever you want there,” Father Edgar said, flinching as Marguerite released his arm.

“There’s a good boy. Meet us at the Cirque de la Vapeur performance tonight and you’ll have your key back.”

On the way to the storage building, Marie spoke.

“What exactly are we getting that a priest could supply?”

“Perfumes, of a sort,” Marguerite said. “Asmodeus wants something putrid, and what better source for the scent of a devil than their enemy’s watchdogs?”

“In other words,” Andre said, “we’re getting some brimstone to throw in the fire, a few pieces of incense to overwhelm anyone who might think that isn’t bad enough.”

Marie still wondered why a stink bomb seemed to require so many poetic sounding ingredients, but she decided against further questions. Marguerite had a terrifying light in her eyes. The goods were acquired without further complication. After Andre gave some ratios to Marguerite, they parted ways, and Marguerite and Marie returned to the circus.

The show was starting soon.

“We’ll have to work quickly,” Marguerite said, arranging her chemicals and reviewing Andre’s notes. “Marie, tie pouches onto some of the animals, then find Asmodeus to let him know we’re ready.”

Marie nodded and dashed off.

The Show Must Go On: Tea Leaves and Trouble

Alexandra leaned back in her chair, relaxing after a long card reading with the patron who just left the dimly lit tent. Reaching into a cabinet next to her chair and pulled out a small embroidered cotton pillow that wafted the gentle scents of vanilla, cinnamon and cloves. She placed the teapot of hot water on top of the pillow to fill the room with the warm, comforting scents to help her relax.

The heavy upholstery curtain of the tent was pushed aside as a man of average height but broad shoulders that almost strained the sleeve seams of his overcoat. A broad brimmed top hat shadowed his face, making it almost impossible to distinguish any of his features. “Good evening, Madame,” he said as he bowed slightly but without removing his hat.

Alexandra nodded at him from her winged arm chair, eyebrows raised as she looked over the unexpected guest. “What can I help you with, Sir?"

“I hear that this is the best place to learn your future, but also to have a wonderful cup of tea.” The gentleman removed his overcoat, hung it on a brightly painted coat rack and sat in the seat across the small table from the fortune teller

Alexandra looked only slightly surprised, but didn’t move from her seat. “I’m afraid the rest of the appointments for tonight have already been booked, but you are welcome to come to back tomorrow night.”

“No,” The man insisted, “it cannot wait. You must read my fortune.”

The fortune teller thought about it for a minute, her left hand just touching the dagger concealed in one of her black leather boots. “Very well,” Alexandra said as she brought out a clean teacup and saucer from a small cabinet next to her chair. “What is your favorite kind of tea?”

“Earl Gray, although I’ll settle for Irish Breakfast.”

“Don’t worry. I always have Earl Gray. It’s one of my more popular teas.” Alexandra put two small spoonfuls into the cup and poured the hot water over top before handing it to the stranger seated across from her. “Swirl it three times counter clockwise with your left hand, think of your question and then drink.”

The gentleman did as she told him and took a deep breath of the steam before sipping the liquid. After only a few minutes, just the dregs remained.

Alexandra reached across the table, took the teacup in her left hand and deftly tipped it, draining the remaining liquid into the saucer. She turned the handle of the cup towards her; half closed her eyes and began to look at the patterns of the leaves.

“I see a powerful force influencing your life: bringing great wealth and fame but it does not always have the best intentions. I can see you are concerned about this force and you worry about his intentions. Especially his intentions towards your friends and family.” Alexandra looked up at the gentleman sitting silently across from her. “I can understand your haste to have your future read. This fortune is not looking happy.”

Shifting in his seat, the stranger seemed to be trying to decide what to say. “That’s why I came here.” He removed his hat, revealing gray hair with only a tint of the dark blond that it had been in his youth. He had a well groomed moustache and a few pale, faded scars trailed across his face and neck. “My name is Christophe; I’m an old friend of Colette’s.”

Alexandra’s eyebrows rose at the mention of her friend and ringmaster. “Are you worried about this powerful force going after Colette? Is that why you’re here?”

“Yes, its Jacque; the ringmaster of the Hirondelle. He’s planning something. I just don’t know what.”

“And you want me to warn Colette?”

“Yes,” He said, not breaking eye contact with Alexandra. “You must warn her. I know you don’t know who I am, but Colette does. She trusts me and she needs to be warned before something terrible happens.”

The fortune teller held his gaze for another few moments until she nodded in agreement, “I’ll tell her.”

Christophe rose from the chair and held out his hand to Alexandra. She also stood and clasped his hand in a firm handshake, feeling the heavy calluses and scars that decorated his fingers. The gentleman turned and put his hat and overcoat on before walking out of the tent and into the crowds waiting for the main show to start.

After he left, Alexandra walked to the coat rack, took a dark blue knitted shawl off of it and wrapped it around her shoulders before walking out of her tent to find Colette and pass on Christophe’s message.

The Show Will Go On!

Asmodeus took a long sip from his glass, his grin widening as he looked at Colette. “Well it’s common knowledge that, petty though they are, my first inclination is to let a nice sharp knife reveal to them the error of their ways.”

Colette leveled a disproving glare at him, Marguerite nodded silently to her wine, and Marie’s eyes widened to saucers as she fussed at her skirts hems. “You mean kill them?” she asked in a quivering voice. Murdering people, especially other circus performers, didn’t quite fit into Marie’s view of how the world worked, and she wasn’t sure she liked the sound of it.

Asmodeus rested a hand on the aged wood of his work table as he leaned back against it. “Well yes, little one; in a word, kill.” Glancing back at Colette, he added, “But even I acknowledge that that might not be the answer this time. It’s not such a bad town, and I’d rather not be run out of it. ‘Sides, I’ve got something more fun in mind.”

Marguerite looked up at this remark. “More fun than violence? Why, Asmodeus, it must be some scheme you’ve hatched. Do you intend to win the acrobats’ hearts, and then get into their…”

Asmodeus nearly choked on his wine. Marguerite and Colette exchanged a smirk, while Marie, from her spot on the floor, gave them a quizzical look, unsure of what she missed and whether or not that was a bad thing. Sputtering, waving his arms frantically between fits of coughing, Asmodeus managed to growl his thoughts to them. “We need a way to keep folk out of Hirondelle, whilst simultaneously swelling our attendance.” With a glance at Marguerite, he continued, “I think it’s about time you went shopping; replenish your stores. We’re gonna need something what smells like Lucifer himself, and can be rigged with a fuse.”

A look of understanding crossed Marguerite’s features, and she gave him a sly smile. “I think I may know just what you need.”

Colette looked from one to the other, consternation written on her face. “Yes, well. I’m sure an unholy stench will be enough to clear out Jacque’s crowd, but how does that help us?”

Marie squirmed a little more than usual, thrilled to be able to contribute. “I already thought of that earlier, if you don’t mind me saying. We could retell the tale of the burning cabin! I thought Asmodeus could perform his most dazzling tricks with fire, and Alexandra could predict doom for the Hirondelle, and Marguerite could show how she rescued her animals!”

Asmodeus grinned, and knelt down next to the youth, tousling her hair as he always did. “You’ve got the right idea, but you’re missing a step. Can’t toss the whole steak to the dogs; gotta give ‘em a taste; set them to craving.”

At this bit of wisdom all the ladies looked at Asmodeus with unveiled confusion. Whose dogs? What steak? Asmodeus merely grinned all the broader at his vagueness, reached for his top hat, bounced his favorite cane off the floor of the cabin, swiped it smartly out of the air, and headed for the doors to the deck of his ship. Colette set her glass down on a low table, and stood abruptly. “Asmodeus, that doesn’t really tell us anything! Where are you off to?”

He half turned in the doorway, adjusting his goggles against the setting sun. “I’m off to find Alexandra. Tend to your acts, pull out all the stops, and don’t worry about the audience. Alexandra and I’ll handle it. You just make sure we can smell the swallows out of town, and be ready for tonight’s performance.” With a twirl of his cane, he hopped off the deck to the grass below.