The road gang from Miira had reported seeing huge monsters while working their way through the Great Muck Swamp, which was agreed to be the aftereffects of a bad batch of sapwine.
Kraut Messer, boss of the cookhouse gang from Tarzak, had arranged contracts for hostlers, horses, and wagons from Miira, sawdust from the mill in Porse, and special saws, tools, and fittings from Tieras. The object was to go to the frozen lakes up the White Top Mountains and bring back ice. For this he would need a road cut from where the Miira-Kuumic Road crossed the Upland Mountain Range through to the White Top Mountain Lakes. The road gang from Miira would get the contract.
Arcadia Joe Wimple reported that copper and iron had been discovered near Kuumic, and that Tiny Jim Whister, boss blacksmith, had moved to Kuumic from Tarzak in order to construct and operate a smelter. It did not appear feasible to use the natural fires from the desert for this purpose, no coal deposits had yet been found, thus charcoal would be obtained from beyond the Upland Mountains. Arcadia Joe himself would be going to establish the charcoal manufacturing facility at the point where Kraut Messer's road to the White Top Mountains joined the Miira-Kummic road. Tiny Jim had contracted for hostlers, horses, and wagons from Miira to move the charcoal to Kuumic, and to haul the finished metal goods to Tarzak and points north.
The wardrobe people in Tarzak had discovered how to make cloth from the downy fibres of the angelhair tree, and also how to dye the fabric and weave it into various colors. As part of the barter that Season, the cloth, already made into robes, would be exchanged for the goods from other towns.
On The Stand, the next night of The Season, they were in the blues and had just completed singing "The Song of Baraboo," music by Tarzak windjammer Flubber Mumenebe, lyrics by Tarzak clown Stubbles Joco Cruz. Warts gathered his priests before the fire. Next to them was a large wooden crate.
"My friends," said Warts, "Car Number One is all gone. Where it stood is nothing but scrub bush and grass. But as the car was being taken apart, it was discovered that the locker for the top flags was never emptied when the ship was being lightened. That is what this box contains."
He paused, then looked around at the crowd. "John J. O'Hara's dying wish was that you people—show people—would never forget who you are. The best—the very best—of all the circuses that ever existed."
A cheer from the crowd. Warts held up his hands.
"We've all been in the same clothes for two years now, and we're beginning to look a bit ragged. The young ones are growing, and it's time for new clothes. The wardrobe people, as you were told last night, have produced a large number of robes modeled after the fashion of those from Kuumic. The robe is loose, it fits any size, and it is both cool and can protect you against the sun."
Warts scratched his bumps, then folded his arms. "We must do many things to live; we only have The Season in which to be a show. In this box are the top colors. I want the division heads to come to this box and pick out the color and pattern that will forever after represent your show occupation. No matter what you must do between Seasons, your robe will remind both you and others what you really are. Who will be the first?"
The circle of troupers muttered among themselyes. Packy Dern patted Little Will on her shoulder. "You go out there and find out what the bullhands'll wear."
She looked up at the boss elephant man. "Packy, you should pick it. Not me."
He smiled and shoved her toward the box. "Go on."
Little Will looked back at Packy and Shiner Pete, then walked forward and stood before the box. She looked up at Warts. "I can pick any color?"
Warts shrugged. "You're first. Pick anything you want."
Little Will bent over and searched among the flags. When she had found what she wanted, she folded the flag and walked back to Packy and handed the flag to him. Packy unfolded the flag. It was maroon and gray in vertical stripes. Little Will put her arm around Pete's waist and smiled at Packy. "The gray is for the bulls."
Packy lowered his eyebrows. "And the maroon?"
"That's because it's pretty."
Several persons rushed to the box. Cholly Jacoby walked away with a solid orange flag. The Amazing Ozamund, magician, walked away with a flag of red and black stripes. Madam Zelda, the fortune teller, came away with a flag of solid blue. Others rushed to the box and removed whatever it was that their fingers could grab. After a few moments there was no one else around the box. Waxy Adnelli jabbed Warts in the ribs. "Hey, what about us?"
Warts frowned. "Harness men?"
"No. Priests! We're an occupation."
Warts rubbed his bumpy chin, then shrugged. "I never thought about it. It's not like we had real show jobs."
Waxy snorted. "You telling me that the route book isn't a job? That's what we do: the route book."
"I guess." Warts shrugged again, then pointed at the box. "Waxy, see what's left."
Waxy shook his head and went to the box. He looked into it, then looked back at Warts. "You lump-headed Pendiian! There's only one flag left!" Waxy turned, bent over, then stood up holding a flag of black and white checked diamonds. "If I have to wear this, I'm going back on harness!"
Warts walked over and looked at the flag. He looked up at Waxy. "I think it is just fine." He took the flag from Waxy and held it out to the rest of the priests. The comments from the Moman priesthood ranged from "Jesus H. Christ" to "Muthuh."
The Show began with a parade around the ring led by Packy Dern and Robber, with the rest of the bulls tail-and-trunk in tow. As the bullhands completed their circuit of the ring, they placed the bulls into the kraal and moved into the blues as Doc Weems honked out "The Entrance of the Gladiators" on the calliope.
Horse acts, jugglers, equilibrists, and clowns performed, but it was difficult to imagine a show without the up top crowd—flyers, wire-walkers, and iron jaw acts. But the up top acts require rigging, and they were still learning how to make rope. The Season the third promised to have a full show, complete with the upstairs crowd.
Even so, there was a bit of sparkle in The Season the second. Blue, silver, and pink sequins were on a few costumes. The sequins were made from the outside layer of freakfish carapace.
In her place in the blues, Little Will sighed and let her mind touch Shiner Pete's. "Everyone is trying so hard. But it just isn't the show."
Pete squeezed her hand. "Close your eyes and listen."
Little Will closed her eyes. The scream of the calliope filled her hearing, while the smells of people, bulls, horses, and food filled her sense of smell. She could almost taste cotton candy.
The fabric—the spirit—was still there. What reality could not provide, imagination could. Pete's thoughts touched her again. "Remember what Waxy said. You can't kill the show."
She kept her eyes closed, listened, and recalled the many stands on many planets. City after city, transformed for a moment into the fantasyland of the show, the company, the circus. She felt the tears dribble down her cheeks, then felt Pete's gentle touch wiping the tears away. He spoke out loud. "You can't kill the show."
She put her arms around his neck, hugged him, and then laughed.
On the morning of Teardown, Little Will gently removed Pete's arm from around her shoulders and stood up. The sky was cloud-dotted, but the day promised to be clear and not too hot. She looked down at Pete, then turned and went to check on Reg. She made her way into the bull kraal, found Reg, and stroked the pachyderm's trunk. "Is everything all right, Reg?"
The bull snorted and nodded her head. Little Will checked to make certain that Reg and the other bulls were secure, watered, and fed. When she was finished, she climbed the kraal fence and headed back toward where Pete and the other bullhands slept. Half of the way there she heard angry voices. She frowned and walked around the outside of the Ring blues until she saw Duckfoot Tarzak towering over the tiny Pendiian, Warts. Duckfoot was wearing a brown and tan robe that didn't quite reach to the middle of his thighs.