"Let me guess. It's letting the objects of the revenge know who is responsible for it."
"That, and that they must suffer on that account."
Billy nodded, then his face became serious. "For the humans in the village that were here before we came, I see them suffering a range of the Jah, and certainly the Hazb is causing some suffering, but I don't get the connection between the Benth caused by the Quadrant Assembly and the Goatha being worked on these people."
Havu clasped his hands. "As I said, it is a poor example." Billy looked around at the village street and studied the barracks doorways. Three hundred human colonists of Mystienya along with another three hundred circus roughnecks were waiting for the signal that the tower had been taken. He turned back. "I should be getting to my barracks. We must do this again sometime."
Pony Red Miira sank down onto the straw next to the bulls. They could keep the animals, and care for them, but only in their spare time, which meant time usually used for eating and sleeping. Pony raised an eyebrow as Billy Pratt entered the far end of the animal top, walking next to the Governor. Stretch Dirak and the colonist Warner followed. Pony turned over on his side and closed his eyes. After a day of hauling rocks, then caring for the animals, conversation was definitely not on his things-to-do list.
"Pony?"
Pony opened an eye, aimed it at the Governor, then closed it. "No one here by that name."
The Boss Animal Man felt a boot stimulate his hindquarters with a swift kick. He turned around, fists clenched, noticed it was the Governor's boot, then frowned. "Just what'n the hell do you think you're doing?"
"Can't afford to have you sleep your life away, Pony. Get your gang up and start getting this company ready for parade."
"Pa... what?" Stretch helped Pony to his feet as Billy and the Governor walked off between the cage wagons. Sticks Arlo, the show's director of performers, rushed through the animal top entrance, then joined the fixer and the Governor. Pony looked at the advance manager. "Stretch, can you tell me the score?"
Stretch released the Boss Animal Man, then shrugged. "All I know is that in about ten days we make parade and put on a show." He grinned, then shook his head. "It's been explained to me, but I'm still not sure what's going on."
Pony Red frowned at the cage wagons. "Parade, huh?" He turned, took a few steps, then planted his own boot against the backside of one of the animal men sacking in the top. "Snaggletooth, get up and get those wagons ready for parade. They're filthy!"
"Hah?" Snaggletooth yawned and rubbed his soft end. "What is it. Pony?"
"Parade in the works; get up and I want those cage wagons to sparkle. Where's Waxy?"
Snaggletooth shook his head to clear it, then pointed toward the other end of the tent. "Waxy's down there sleeping with the rosinbacks."
"Get down there and tell him that I want all harness cleaned, repaired, and polished."
"Parade?"
"You heard me!" Snaggletooth elevated off the straw and moved at top speed toward the other end of the tent. Pony turned his head toward Stretch. "We'll be ready, but... what for?"
Stretch grinned. "Goatha!"
Slippery Sash looked up from his spot on the floor to see the Amazing Ozamund looking glum. "What is the trouble, my friend?"
Amazing looked up from his place against the wall, then looked back at the floor. "Slippery, I don't know what to do. I just don't. Mr. John wants me to figure out a way to deliver papers to all of the camps. I told him it was impossible, and he said that's why he's giving the job to a magician." Amazing shook his head.
Slippery pursed his lips, frowned, then smiled. "Come, come, my friend." He pushed himself to his feet and took a place on the floor next to the magician. "Cannot the greatest magician in the Universe, in combination with the Universe's greatest escape artist, devise a simple thing such as delivering the mail?"
Amazing raised his brows and looked at Slippery. "You have an idea?"
Slippery shrugged. "These Nuumiians, Ozzie, they are rank punks when it comes to locking a fellow up. Sometime remind me to tell you of my experiences in Kuznetsov Maximum Security Center—ah, now that was a challenge! Something a fellow could get his teeth in!" He shook his head. "Of course, the hardest part in trying Kuznetsov was getting in. I had the Devil's own time getting assigned there—"
"You have an idea?"
"Of course, of course." Slippery sighed. "But paper is such a small thing." His eyes lit up. "Now, if the task were to sneak out the bulls..."
THIRTY-FOUR
At the vegetable patch above the hostage camp, Linda Warner stood, stretched her back, then noticed the men on the road below. They were the ones from the dump camp pulling the rock-filled carts from the pit camp to be dumped. She looked back at the vegetable patch and shook her head. The addition of the circus women and children made that many more mouths to feed, and they had to be shown how to do everything. And that fat one named Bubbles—she could hardly move, yet she practically ate a normal person's weight in food every day, if she could get her hands on it. Linda nodded. "Well, we'll trim her down some."
She picked up her weeding tools, turned, and headed down the slope toward the hostage camp. As she came to the road the men from the dump camp were crossing in front of her. Several of them nodded at her as she searched their faces for Tom. She knew he was at the pit camp—or had been—but there was always a chance. She glanced up at the guard tower rolling along behind the column of carts, then turned her eyes toward the ground, resigned to waiting. While she watched the procession of creaking wheels and dusty feet, she saw a heavy envelope thud into the dust on the road. The feet passing by kicked dust over the envelope, making it undetectable as the guard tower rolled by.
Linda crossed the road behind the tower, dropped her rake, and bent over to pick it up. As she stood, she lifted the envelope, covering the action with her body. She slipped the package underneath her shirt into her waistband as she left the road.
Could it be word from Tom? Linda forced herself to walk the path to camp slowly. As she approached the midway guard tower, she heard Boomer's voice ring out. "What is the matter, Linda?" She could never be certain, but Linda suspected that the guard they called Boomer was no more thrilled at having to guard them than she was at being guarded. "You look sad."
"Of course, Honor, I am. It is the Goatha."
"True, true, Linda, but it is such a poor one. One should not suffer so..." Linda smiled inwardly as Boomer cut himself off in his criticism of the Royal Family's Goatha. So, even they were scared, she thought.
"May I go now, Honor?"
The Pause. "What was that you picked up on the road, Linda?"
Linda felt her blood run cold. "My rake, Honor... I dropped it."
The Pause. "Proceed Linda."
When she reached the limits of the hostage camp, still with her back toward Boomer's tower, she waited until the end barracks came between her and the camp guard tower. Immediately her hand darted under her shirt and withdrew the envelope. She wiped the dust from it on her shirt front, then squinted at the name. "Iron Jaw Jill." Linda felt tears burn her eyes as she replaced the envelope, realizing just how much she had hoped for word from Tom. But the package was for that pushy old woman from the circus, the one who directed their ballet girls. Linda smoothed the front of her shirt as she came into view from the camp tower. Then she walked over to the shed and left her tools. While inside the shed, she pulled out the envelope, thinking to ditch it. After all, if she were caught with it, it would mean the shocks. She looked at the package again, then nodded and replaced it beneath her shirt. As much as she disliked Jill, she couldn't do that to her. She shook her head at the thought that some man thought enough of the old circus crone to risk the shocks and send her a message.