Jemexxa gripped Jekkalon’s hand and said, ‘Look — look! It’s Mom!’
Sure enough, their mother Demi the Demi-Goddess was being wheeled on to the stage by Zachary. She was balanced on a small gilded cart with a black velvet cushion on it. She was staring unfocused at nothing at all.
‘We could snatch her,’ breathed Jekkalon. ‘We could run down there and snatch her and they wouldn’t even know what had hit them.’
‘No, you couldn’t,’ said Dom Magator, close to his ear. ‘You’d be caught before you got anywhere near her, and you’d fuck up this whole operation. So don’t even think about it, you hear?’
‘Yeah, OK. I know. Sorry. It’s just seeing her like that. It doesn’t matter what they’ve done to her, she’s still our mom.’
‘I know that. But concentrate, dude. Any sign of the Big Cheese yet?’
‘Not so far.’
But he had barely spoken when there was another flourish of trumpets, and out of the darkness at the back of the stage rolled a four-wheeled contraption about the size of a stagecoach, with huge spoked wheels. It was painted glossy black, with a domed canopy of black leather, which completely concealed its occupant.
It was being pushed forward by naked men and women, at least ten of them, every inch of whose bodies was decorated with tattoos, although the Night Warriors were too far away at the back of the big top to see what the designs were. But what they could see was that all of their legs had been amputated below the knee and replaced with much longer prosthetic legs with absurdly high heels, more like designer boots than feet, so that all of them, both men and women, stood well over six-and-a-half feet tall. Their heads had been shaved and fitted with crowns and antlers and bells. They jingled as they walked, and the wheels of the black contraption squeaked in accompaniment.
The black contraption was rolled right up to the chair where Maria Fortales was tied, and then it stopped. The naked men and women remained where they were, standing beside it, motionless. Xyrena could see now that their genitalia had been tied up tightly with elaborate cat’s-cradles of very thin twine, so that their flesh bulged in diamond-shaped patterns. Now Mago Verde came prancing forward, bowing and nodding his head.
‘Here it is, Brother Albrecht! The eighth offering! How close we are now, to the great day of glory! Only one more sacrifice to bring back to you after this one, and then you can cry out up stakes! and wagons roll! and return to the world where men can really be tortured and women can really be fondled!’
The ringmaster stepped up now, and took hold of the framework of the black canopy which covered the inside of the black contraption. ‘Ladies and gentlemen! And those undecided! I proudly present to you… the Grand Freak, Brother Albrecht!’
He was just about to raise the canopy, however, when Xyrena felt something wrench violently at her sleeve — something so strong that she was pulled right around in a semicircle and almost lost her balance. At the same time, she was half deafened by a screech and a chattering noise, and then a nasal voice shouting out, ‘Arresto! Parada! Ne soulevez pas la canopy! Wij hebben hier strangers! Arresto! Parado!’
Jekkalon and Jemexxa turned around, too. Tearing at Xyrena’s sleeve was the rat-creature that they had first encountered when they came looking for their mother. Now that they could see it close up, they realized that it was much more human than rat, and although it was so diminutive, and so hunched-up, it was more man than boy. It was wearing the same yellow tweed coat as before, and a strange pair of brown britches with buttoned-up spats.
‘Don’t open up the verrière!’ it screamed. ‘Questa gente — they are spies! Feinde! Enemies!’
‘Let go of me, you freak!’ Xyrena snapped at it, pulling her sleeve free. ‘We’re not spies! We just came to see the show!’
‘Ha! Ha! Vous say that?’ the rat-creature retorted. ‘This show is invitation only, for people who are dreaming Brother Albrecht’s dream. Are you dreaming Brother Albrecht’s dream, or êtes vous poking in your nosepipe?’
On all sides, the audience were twisting around in their seats to see what the tussling was all about. From the stage, the ringmaster bellowed out, ‘Brown Jenkin! Bring them up here! Let’s see who they are, shall we, these spies of yours? Come on! Bring them up here!’
Xyrena said to Dom Magator, ‘They’ve caught us out, John.’
‘Yes, I get that. Just don’t panic.’
‘What shall we do? Zap ’em?’
‘No — not yet!’ Dom Magator cautioned her. ‘We need to take out this Grand Freak first. Without him, none of this would exist, so try to play along for now. An-Gryferai is airborne already, right above you, and me and Zebenjo’Yyx, we’re moving in to give you some close support. We won’t let you down, sweetheart, I promise you.’
‘I just don’t want them to cut my arms off or turn me into a schnauzer, that’s all.’
‘Trust me, Xyrena, not a chance of that.’
Five burly circus hands in gray coveralls had come around from the rear of the big top, cutting off any chance of escape. Not that they wanted to escape: first of all they wanted to confront Brother Albrecht. Brown Jenkin tugged at Xyrena’s cloak and said, ‘Come on, then, ma belle! Up on the stage, you lovely nudie lady! You make me want to suck your breast buttons! You make me want to stick my fingers into your sticky pussy-pie!’
Jekkalon said, ‘Xyrena — want me to fry the little bastard? Just say the word!’
But Xyrena said, ‘No. We want to get your mom out of here, don’t we? And like Dom Magator said, we don’t know if they have any weapons, or some other way of defending themselves.’
Inside their helmets, they heard Zebenjo’Yyx say, ‘Keep cool, OK? Me and the Dom, we’re right outside now. We’re only seconds away if you need us.’
Xyrena, Jekkalon and Jemexxa followed Brown Jenkin as he bustled down the aisle toward the stage. The noise from the audience and the performers on the stage was deafening — shouting and whistling and clapping and stamping of feet. Jemexxa hesitated as they approached the apron, but the circus hands were right behind them, and one of them gave her backpack a shove.
‘Hey!’ Jekkalon protested, turning around and raising his fist; but Xyrena took hold of his arm and said, ‘Let it be, Jekkalon. You’ll have your turn.’
Brown Jenkin led them up three steps on to the stage, and they were immediately surrounded by a mass of clowns and freaks and little people, all pushing at each other so they could touch them and prod them and pull at Xyrena’s cloak. In their Night Warriors outfits, they were just as much of a curiosity to the carnival folk as the carnival folk were to them. Jekkalon elbowed his way through them, although one dwarf retaliated by kicking him in the shin.
‘You little shit!’ Jekkalon shouted at him, but by then the dwarf had scrambled back into the crowd.
‘Over here, strangers!’ called Mago Verde, and beckoned them over to the black coach-contraption. Its black leather canopy was still tightly closed, so that it looked like a giant woodlouse. Xyrena walked across the stage first, with a seductive sway of her hips. Mago Verde eyed her up and down with his eyes glittering, twisting the ends of his hair between his fingers.