"Packy, isn't Karl Arnheim dead?"
The boss elephant man nodded his head. "And that's what's got 'em, Little Will. A trouper can fight anything. Anything but a damned ghost." He looked into her eyes, seeing the confusion there. "When you get a little older and begin collectin' your own stable of ghosts, you'll see what I'm talkin' about."
Little Will looked back at the flames. In them she could see shapes form—puzzle pieces. What they were pieces to, she couldn't see; she could see that not enough pieces were there. When Packy moved off to his bedroll, Little Will continued staring at the fire.
"I wish it could be like it was," she thought.
"Me too."
Little Will looked up across the fire, startled, to see another startled face looking back at her. It was Shiner Pete Adnelli, Waxy's son.
She tried her thoughts again. "Shiner, was that you?"
He nodded, his mouth gaping.
"Did you work with Waco and the Ssendissians?"
"A... a little." He held his hands to his head for a moment, then stood and walked away from the fire.
Little Will studied the flames for a long time, then stood and made her way to Packy's bedroll. She snuggled against the boss elephant man, and as she was dozing she let the thought escape. "Goodnight Shiner."
A troubled thought returned. "Yeah. Goodnight."
Little Will closed her eyes and let her dreams carry her back to the ship and her good friends the Ssendissians.
They were laying up on the planet Ahngar at the main spaceport near the Royal City of Almandiia. Hassih the Ssendissian was looped several times over Bullhook Willy's right shoulder and across his chest. Bullhook held Little Will's hand as the three of them watched the technicians and welders working on the main animal carrousel in shuttle Number Three. The Ssendissian turned from the work and looked at Bullhook. "How many were killed when the meteor struck?"
Bullhook shook his head. "Nineteen troupers and forty-nine animals—sixteen of them bulls. Four bullhands, nine from the shuttle crew, a pony punk, three hostlers, and two camel hands." Again he shook his head. "God, what a nightmare. The damage jammed the main carrousel and we couldn't rotate it to get the bulls out of the shuttle and into the ship. We had to cut them out. Those that weren't injured from the meteorite got it in the stampede."
Hassih looked back at the workers. "It is such a pity. Can the bulls be replaced?"
The big man turned and went down the gangway to the ground port, Little Will walking beside him. "We can get more bulls. We just can't replace the one's we lost. Big Mo got it, Go Go, Princess..."
Little Will pulled on the tip of the Sssendissian's tail. "Hassih, please tell my daddy I'm sorry."
They stepped down to the surface of the parking ramp and headed for their van. Hassih spoke to Bullhook. "Little Will expresses her condolences."
The big man looked down at the little girl and smiled. "I'm glad you're with me right now, baby. Very glad." He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.
"Hassih, tell my daddy I love him."
The Ssendissian bobbed its head around. "Your daughter expresses her affection."
Bullhook Willy raised an eyebrow and looked at Hassih. "You know, Hassih old shoelace, I can't help but believe her words lost something in the translation." He opened the van door, Hassih slithered inside, and Little Will climbed in after. After closing the passenger door, Bullhook Willy walked around the front of the van and climbed into the driver's seat, closing his door behind him. He reached to energize the van's motor, then hesitated. He faced the Ssendissian. "Hassih, I don't understand this telepathy stuff. If Little Will can talk to you, and if you can talk to me, why can't she talk to me?"
"Bullhook, you cannot receive the same as she sends. It is much like the radios on the ships. She is sending on one frequency, but you can only receive on another. It is much more complicated than that, but that is why."
"And you can dial up and down both sending and receiving?"
"Roughly. But Little Will cannot. Perhaps she could with training. Perhaps you could be trained." Hassih swung its head around and studied Little Will. Then the Ssendissian looked at Bullhook. "I will ask Nhissia. Nhissia is an expert in communications. My talents lie elsewhere."
Bulhook Willy started up the van. "What did you do back at the old academy, Hassih?"
The Ssendissian looked through the windshield. "My training is in the arts of killing and preparing the kill for consumption. I am told you call this home economics."
The big man moved the van. As it approached the fences surrounding the field, he turned to the Ssendissian. "I would appreciate it if you would ask Nhissia if anything can be done."
Hassih's head bobbed up and down. The Ssendissian looked at Little Will, then turned its head toward Bullhook. "Little Will expresses her discomfort."
Willy sighed and shook his head. "Hassih, just tell me what she said—exactly."
Hassih cocked its head to one side, then looked back through the windshield. "Little Will said: 'Tell my daddy that I have to go to the bathroom.' "
It was a stand somewhere. Only one among many, but important. All stands are important.
The show's children crowded the dressing top donning their costumes for the most spectacular street parade ever put on by O'Hara's Greater Shows. The inhabitants of the planet, as well as their cities and their streets, were on a grand scale. The city of Tiomo was the first stand, and Tiomo's main street would dwarf any kind of human display—except the circus. O'Hara swore to fill the enormous avenue. All seventy-five bulls, the entire compliment of baggage and performing horses, all performers, every show and cage wagon, even the show's canvasmen and razorbacks found themselves costuming for the parade.
As her costuming and makeup were completed, Little Will gathered with the other show children under the watchful eye of Iron Jaw Jill, the show's ballet director. "Now you kids freeze. Mess up those spangles, and I'll see your bony little buns across a trunk!" She turned and disappeared into the crowd of ballet girls donning briefs and feathered headdresses. On a row of trunks off to the side, Clown Alley was touching up its last frizzy head and securing its last fake foot.
Little Will turned as she heard angry shouting. The show kids backed away from a scuffling pair of boys rolling on the wood shavings. They pounded and punched each other without mercy until Iron Jaw Jill pulled them apart. Even held apart, they swung in each other's direction at the empty air. "Hold your hosses! Now!" She shook the two until they stopped swinging. "Look at your costumes!"
Little Will stood on her toes to see who the boys were. The blond-haired one with the bloody nose was Mikey Dirak, the advance manager's son. The brown-haired one with the bloody nose was Pete Adnelli, Waxy the harnessman's son. Both of their costumes were in blood-covered tatters. Iron Jaw shook Mikey. "What's this about?"
He sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. "Nothin'. Pete just jumped me."
Iron Jaw looked at Pete. "Well?"
Pete tried to take another swing at Mikey, but was pulled out of range by Iron Jaw. "You liar!"
Iron Jaw shook Pete until he quieted. "Now, what do you have to say for yourself?"
Even flushed from fighting, Little Will could see the blush creeping into Pete's cheeks. "Mikey said something."
"What thing? Out with it!"