The Night Circus: Part II

“It is an auspicious color,” Tsukiko comments, but she refuses to elaborate on her meaning.

Close to dawn, when the circus is emptying, they are taken for a walk around the tents and into the courtyard. The purpose is ostensibly to lull them to sleep, but they stay awake, watching the lights and the costumes and the stripes on the tents around them, strangely alert for being only a few hours old.

Marco takes Chandresh’s arm and pulls him into a quieter corner, standing with his back to the courtyard to provide a modicum of privacy.

His mother mentions the circus, or more specifically, the influx of people it will bring.

“He’s fond of pushing boundaries, and I offered to help him push them further. Is Mr. Barris my opponent? That would be quite devious of him, building me a carousel to avoid suspicion.”

The distance of the circus feels more pronounced despite the tenuous contact through paper and ink.

“See that they set an additional place for dinner,” Chandresh says to Marco, before taking her on a cursory spin around the room to make sure she has met everyone.

“Scent is often underestimated, when it can be the most evocative.”

The charming smile that accompanies the statement catches Celia off guard, as she has rarely seen anything but varying degrees of reserved attentiveness or occasional nervousness on his countenance.

After the cacophony of shattering sugar, it does not take long for the diners to realize that, though the globes appeared identical, each of them has been presented with an entirely unique flavor.

Caught by surprise, Marco only manages to stammer something he hopes resembles his standard impartial agreement.

It is these articles that make Herr Friedrick Thiessen the unofficial leader, the figurehead, of those most ardent followers of the circus.

Some are introduced to Le Cirque des Rêves through his writing, while others feel an instant connection with him as they read his words, an affinity for this man who experiences the circus as they do, as something wondrous and inimitable.

Some are introduced to Le Cirque des Rêves through his writing, while others feel an instant connection with him as they read his words, an affinity for this man who experiences the circus as they do, as something wondrous and inimitable.

It is these aficionados, these rêveurs, who see the details in the bigger picture of the circus. They see the nuance of the costumes, the intricacy of the signs. They buy sugar flowers and do not eat them, wrapping them in paper instead and carefully bringing them home. They are enthusiasts, devotees. Addicts.

Often someone approaching the ticket booth in a black coat with a red scarf will be waved in without paying admission, or given a mug of cider or bag of popcorn gratis.

Some of the rêveurs wander the circus continuously, methodically visiting every tent, watching each performance. Others have their favorite spots which they rarely leave, choosing to pass the entire night in the Menagerie or the Hall of Mirrors.

Marco arrives at Mr. Barris’s London office only a few minutes before his scheduled appointment, surprised to find the normally well-ordered space in near bedlam, full of half-packed crates and stacks of boxes.

“Oh, there is no need for such precaution,” Mr. Barris says with a vehement shake of his head.

“You are meant to be working separately, not in this...this debauched juxtaposition. I have warned you about collaborating, it is not the proper way to exhibit your skills.”

“Once in a while Lainie suggests that we follow it around ourselves but I think that would only be a temporary solution, we are too mercurial for our own good.”

“There is a great deal more going on than we are privy to, of that I’m quite sure,” Tara says with a sigh.

Closed Due to Inclement Weather

Isobel hesitates, glancing around at the clientele, a mostly bohemian crowd sipping absinthe and arguing about art.

“If anything comes to me later I will let you know, sometimes I need to ruminate on the cards before I can make any real sense of them. These are...not unclear, precisely, but they are complex, which makes for a great deal of possibilities to consider.”

Before he can mentally berate himself for doing something so silly, the fortune-teller smiles, though for a moment there is something almost sad beneath it.

He waits for her to begin, his expression bearing something that could be construed as very mild interest.

There is a smattering of color amongst the sea of traditional black.

“I contend it is a possibility, at the very least.”

He pushes through the throng of people, and when he is free of them, the girl and the boy and the kittens are nowhere to be seen.

After a few moments of amicable silence, Bailey works up the nerve to ask a question, one he’s not sure he’ll be comfortable asking once they meet back up with Widget.

An Excursion in Dimension
A Climb Through the Firmament
There Is No Beginning
There Is No End

“Manipulation. I called it magic when I was younger. It took me quite some time to break that habit, though my father never cared for the term. He’d call it enchanting, or forcibly manipulating the universe when he was not in the mood for brevity.”

“I have no memories before the orphanage that I was plucked out of because I met some unspecified criteria. I was made to read a great deal, I traveled and studied and was generally groomed to play some sort of clandestine game. I’ve been doing so, along with accounting and bookkeeping and whatever else Chandresh requests of me, for most of my life.”

The way you manipulate perception. I was never particularly good at that myself, I’m better with tangible things.

My father called it debauched juxtaposition, he must have worked for days to come up with a worthy insult. He sees something tawdry in the combining of skills, I have never understood why.

“I had not thought of it in such a lascivious manner before,” Marco says.

Marco replays in his mind his first encounter with the Wishing Tree. A mixture of annoyance and amazement and wistfulness that seems different in retrospect.

Several times he catches her regarding him in a similar manner, and the moments when she holds his eyes with hers are sublime.

Ever since the circus opened, he has been increasingly unfocused. I...I do what I can to keep him steady, though I fear it has an adverse effect on his memory.