She beckons him forward, leading him around the bonfire to the other side of the courtyard. They walk a short way down an adjoining passageway, layers of mud sticking to Bailey’s formerly shiny shoes.
“Here we are.” Tsukiko stops at a tent entrance, and Bailey moves closer to check the sign, knowing which tent it is as soon as he glances at the words upon it.
Fearsome Beasts and Strange Creatures
Wonders in Paper and Mist
“Are you coming with me?” Bailey asks.
“No,” Tsukiko says. “Only an emissary, remember? I shall be in the courtyard if you need me.”
With that she gives him a polite nod and walks back the way they came, and as Bailey watches her go he notices that the mud is not sticking to her boots.
After she disappears around a corner, Bailey enters the tent.
Incendiary
NEW YORK, OCTOBER 31, 1902
Marco’s back slams against the ground as though he has been roughly pushed, leaving him coughing both from the impact and the cloud of black ash surrounding him.
A light rain is falling as he pulls himself up, and as the air around him clears he sees a row of tiny trees and stars, surrounded by silver gears and black-and-white chess pieces.
It takes him a moment to realize he is standing next to the Wunschtraum clock.
The clock is ticking toward midnight, the harlequin juggler at the top balancing eleven balls amongst the twinkling stars and moving pieces.
The sign announcing the circus’s closure due to inclement weather clatters in the wind. Though for the moment, the rain is not much more than a heavy mist.
Marco rubs the shimmering powder from his face, which has reverted to its true form and he is too disoriented to change it. He tries to get a better look at the dark ash on his suit but it is already fading away.
The striped curtain beyond the ticket booth hangs open, and through the haze, Marco can see a figure standing in the shadows, illuminated by the sharp spark of light from a cigarette lighter.
“Bonsoir,” Tsukiko says cheerfully as he approaches, tucking her lighter back in her pocket as she balances her cigarette in its long silver holder. A rush of wind howls across the space, rattling the circus gates.
“How … how did she do this?” Marco asks.
“Isobel, you mean?” Tsukiko replies. “I taught her that particular trick. I do not think she understood the nuances of it, but it appears she performed fine regardless. Do you feel unsteady at all?”
“I’m fine,” Marco says, though his back is aching from the fall and his eyes still sting. He watches Tsukiko curiously. He has never spoken at any great length with the contortionist, and her presence is almost as confusing as the fact that moments ago he had been somewhere else entirely.
“Here, come out of the wind at least.” Tsukiko motions him into the curtained tunnel with her cigarette-free hand. “That is a better face than the other one,” she says, scrutinizing his appearance through mist and smoke. “It suits you.” She lets the curtain fall once he has entered, leaving them enclosed in darkness studded with dimly sparkling lights, the glowing tip of her cigarette the one spot of color amongst the dots of white.
“Where is everyone?” Marco asks, shaking the rain from his bowler hat.
“Inclement-weather party,” Tsukiko explains. “Traditionally held in the acrobats’ tent, as it is the largest. But you would not know that, as you are not truly a member of the company, are you?”
He cannot see her expression well enough to read it, though he can tell that she is grinning brightly.
“No, I suppose I am not,” he says. He follows her as she walks through the mazelike tunnel, moving deeper into the circus. “Why am I here?” he asks.
“We will get to that in due time,” she says. “How much did Isobel tell you?”
The conversation with Isobel outside his building is almost lost in Marco’s memory, despite occurring only moments ago. He recalls fleeting pieces of it. Nothing coherent enough to articulate.
“No matter,” Tsukiko says when he does not respond immediately. “It is sometimes difficult to gather one’s senses after such a journey. Did she tell you that we have something in common?”
Marco recalls Isobel mentioning Celia and someone else, but not who, exactly.
“No,” he says.
“We are both former students of the same instructor,” Tsukiko says. The end of her cigarette glows brighter as she inhales in the near darkness. “Temporary cover only, I am afraid,” she adds as they reach another curtain. She pulls it back and the space is flooded with glowing light from the courtyard. She gestures for Marco to step out into the rain, taking a drag from her cigarette as he obediently walks through the open curtain, trying to make sense of her last statement.
The lights that adorn the tents are dark, but in the center of the courtyard the bonfire burns brightly, glowing and white. The soft rain falling around it glistens.
“It is lovely,” Tsukiko says, stepping into the courtyard with him. “I will grant you that.”
“You were a former student of Alexander’s?” Marco asks, not certain he has understood.