Circus Mirandus: Chapters 14–18

The tent of the Man Who Bends Light was dim and warm when Ephraim entered. The only illumination came from a few colorful oil lanterns that burned near the roof.

He flicked his wrist. A mango leaped from the pile into one of his hands, and a sharp knife materialized in the other.

He had only ever seen illustrations of penguins before, and he’d thought that they looked solemn, as though they had dressed for a funeral. But they were such funny birds in person.

Then he stood on the edge of a cliff, looking down at a sprawling city.

For a long time, he stood at the prow of an old sailing ship by himself and watched a pod of whales. They breached the roiling surface of the sea and shot white geysers into the air.

Butterflies the size of swallows drank from jewel-colored flowers in the dappled light.

He wanted to stick out his hand and say, “Thank you. My name is Ephraim Tuttle, and you have changed me.”
He tried to do this every day, but at the end of each show he found himself horribly afflicted by nerves.

The Lightbender watched the others go, and then he turned and noticed Ephraim, clinging to his seat like a stubborn barnacle.

If I can't say what I mean to, he thought, I'll have to say something else or he'll think I'm deranged.

He took the grubby lace out of one of his boots and set about tying a knot of great complexity.

“I am not always sure how far I should take my illusions. I don’t want to do more harm than good.”

Ephraim nodded glumly. “I don’t suppose I could save it for later?”

Jenny refused to believe that the wind Micah had felt and the arrow in his notebook and the message the quipu had spelled out were magical phenomena, but she was having a hard time coming up with explanations for what else they could be.

“I’ll sneak out of the house.” She said this the way other people might announce their intention to dismantle a bomb.

Then he reached the corner by the chest of drawers and saw that one of the pictures was already askew.
It wasn’t very crooked, but every other frame in the room had been so perfectly straight that Micah could have balanced a marble on top without worrying that it might roll off.

"Micah?” Grandpa Ephraim sounded groggy.

And I’m sure I won’t ever mention your friend’s escapades to her mother and father.

“She sounds a little...rigid,” Grandpa Ephraim said carefully. “And Circus Mirandus is not a rigid sort of place.”

“Has Chintzy been back already?” he asked as he twirled the pristine feather between his fingers.

Tents had to be set to rights, and schedules had to be rearranged, and of course there was the usual kerfuffle with the menagerie, because no matter how many times they’d done it, the animals still thought that traveling by Door was a rotten idea.

Tents had to be set to rights, and schedules had to be rearranged, and of course there was the usual kerfuffle with the menagerie, because no matter how many times they’d done it, the animals still thought that traveling by Door was a rotten idea.

Because of the sudden move, his books were scattered everywhere, his clothes were strewn all over the floor, and Chintzy’s perch was missing.

He picked up a lantern, looked at it with a vacant expression, then set it back down in exactly the same place.

“In the picture, she was wearing a dress with spots on it,” Chintzy said darkly.
“Is that significant?”

“It was a pretty dress and he was in a suit and they were standing very close together.” Chintzy nodded sagely.

But the Lightbender still looked baffled. She decided she had better spell it out for him.

He stared at her for so long that Chintzy thought he was having trouble coping with the gravity of the situation.

“Micah Tuttle might be Victoria’s grandchick!”
That sobered him up. “He might,” he conceded.

Victoria Starling was thirteen years old when her father’s third insanity came upon him. Kinder individuals might have called the third insanity a moment of divine inspiration, or simply a change of heart, but Victoria’s mother had been married to Mr. Starling for two legitimate insanities.

Victoria herself was never charitable. She thought it was a tremendous waste of effort.

Mr. Starling quit a lucrative career in banking in order to make flowery ladies’ hats.

They were all quite ugly, and after his retirement, a certain museum kept the collection in storage so that they might bring it out during one of those dry spells when people grew tired of seeing Egyptian sarcophagi.

I won’t go up in one of those newfangled contraptions.

At some point, she discovered a gift for singing. All manner of birds flocked to her, mesmerized by her voice, and she kept a collection of her favorites as pets.

Though her talents were substantial, she soon realized that opportunities to show them off were not.

And it was difficult to find money for things like soap, never mind fur coats.
Sometimes, Victoria had the terrible thought that she was starting to look bedraggled.

She was flying away from an unusually grimy traveling fair when she looked down and spotted Circus Mirandus.

People with strong magic were few and far between, and Circus Mirandus held a great appeal for such gifted individuals.

Circus Mirandus was in the business of nurturing magic in the world. The performers were inspirers of children.

It was a calling that required a special sort of person, and if he was honest with himself, Mr. Head had to admit that Victoria didn’t really fit the description. She was volatile and inexperienced, and she was entirely convinced of her own importance.