Carnival of Fear, page 28
part #6 of Ravenloft Series
"You are despicable," Marie replied flatly, her voice emptied of the hard-edged anger it once held.
"No." The Puppetmaster shook his head, and something like a consoling smile touched his features. "I am human."
"You can't let them die. It would be better if you'd just -return to rule the carnival yourself.
Set it up like it was before the fire, get the whole thing running again. . . . Do whatever you need to do to stop the carnage."
The man faced her squarely. "I'm glad you are finally thinking. Since you are, you surely realize the freaks would never accept me now. They'd never believe they were safe again." His voice trailed away, and he looked out toward the gauntlet beyond.
Karrick had tripped some hundred yards short of the guillotine, and a mob of citizens surrounded him, their cudgels falling in a sickening rhythm. Each time the weapons would rise up from the body, their tips were crimson, and a trailing spray of blood would sprinkle the crowds beyond.
"I have a much better idea than my returning," the Puppetmaster continued. "The freaks wouldn't trust me, but they would trust you."
A chill spread down her back, and Marie dropped, trembling, to her knees. She shook her head violently. "No! I can't betray them. I won't be part of this."
"You won't be betraying them. Remember, Marie, without you, they will starve to death in the arena. But you can save them. You can protect them," the Puppetmaster rasped. "You know what it is like to be a freak. You would guard them, speak up for them, keep them from the Council Hall and the gauntlet-like I tried to do for you."
"I can't do it," Marie interrupted, her voice cracking with the effort. "I can't be a puppetmaster."
"That's right, you can't," the hulking form wheezed. "I am, and shall always be, the Puppetmaster. It was my title before I took over the carnival, before I led a revolt to overthrow the corrupt lord who ruled it before me."
Marie blurted, "You? You took it over, just like ... ?"
"Yes," the man replied simply, "just like you did. I was a revolutionary, too. I drove out the last carnival master some sixty years back, thinking I could free the freaks from their oppressors.
1 faced the same trial you faced, the same gauntlet, the same guillotine. And, when that man, that monster, told me I could die along with my revolutionaries or I could return and govern them, I chose-chose wisely. I've guarded my people for sixty years as carnival master, Marie. Before I took the role, the freaks were dying in scores. After, they died one by one."
"I can't believe it," Marie murmured. "1 can't believe you did these same things."
"Believe it, Marie," the Puppetmaster assured her, his voice for once devoid of malice, of deceit. "My friends, my soul mates, are buried in the arena floor only feet below your companions."
Marie doubled over at the Puppetmaster's feet, her stomach knotted with sobs and her mind spinning furiously. Beyond the doors, the crowd was resignedly withdrawing from the still corpse that lay, formless, in a spreading pool of blood. Already they were shouting for Marie to follow Karrick's bloody path. Already they were wiping the crimson liquid from their weapons and their hands.
"You'll be the Juggler, Carnival Master of I'Morai," the Puppetmaster said, breaking into her thoughts. He drew a ruby pendant from the cord about his neck-the pendant Hermos said he had seen in the Puppet-master's hovel. The crimson gem spun in the harsh morning light, its facets glinting with Qin-sah, God of Horses, on one side, and Tidhare, God of Freaks, on the other.
"Do not choose lightly, my dear. Though you can protect your friends, you cannot lead them to rebel again. For if you choose to become carnival master, I will place this stone about your neck. From that moment forward, you will be forever in the power of I'Morai. You will channel its people's hatred and fear, and you will never betray the citizens to your freaks.
"This pendant was worn by the very first carnival master, and it has been worn by us all-every council member of the city."
"The council?" Marie asked in less than a whisper.
"Yes." The Puppetmaster nodded. "Each member of the council is a former carnival master.
None of us die the natural death of old age. Even the grandfather of us all still lives, the harelip Juron Cygne."
"Juron Cygne," Marie gasped. "I've heard a hundred people read that name off the cornerstone."
"Yes. He was the first carnival master. He buried his own brother in that cornerstone. Juron hated his brother, twin to him in all things save the childhood disease that disfigured him. Andre, you see, had worn the family's magical amulet, which warded him against the wasting illness that ruined Juron. it is this amulet I now offer to you."
He lowered the swinging necklace so that the ruby . lay on Marie's trembling shoulder. Her breath came in uneven sobs as she sat up, feeling the cold, harsh weight of the ruby.
"Juron stole the pendant from his brother and buried him alive in the arena wall. As he died, Andre cursed Juron and the stolen amulet, channeling his tormented soul into the gem. He declared that whoever dons the pendant will be lord of the freaks, cast out by I'Morai but pawn of its hatred. Shortly afterward, the figure of Quince the Horse appeared on one side of the gem, and that of the Ear-Tied Hare on the other. It became the brand that magically tattoos citizens with the mark of freaks, and freaks with the mark of death. For, you see, the carnival master is the highest citizen, like Quince, and also the greatest freak, like the Ear-Tied Hare."
"Qin-sah," Marie muttered quietly, almost in prayer. "Tidhare."
Above the vicious chants of the throng, the Puppet-master's voice rose. "So you see, Marie, if you don this pendant, you will become the next carnival master, saving yourself, and saving your friends from certain death." He shifted the chain, and the great red ruby slid down her breast like a giant drop of blood. "But you must choose, now. The pendant or the gauntlet."
*****
Valor whistled once, dropping the friction-hot arrowhead from his hand and stamping in the pile of mortar powder on the sandy ground. Dismantling this wall would take forever. The stone he'd been trying to dislodge from the bulwark still hung there, clinging to its well of mortar. The midget harrumphed, resting his tired hand on the sling he wore. He looked askance at the other freaks gathered to each side of him in the dark entrance. They'd been working since Hermos had returned at midday, and still had removed only twenty-odd stones from their escape route.
Threading his way through the huddled workers, Valor reached Hermos, who kneeled beside the wall, clearing the last clumps of mortar from a particularly large stone. The midget tapped Hermos's side and asked wearily, "How far are we?"
The man-giant closed one eye and peered through a fracture that the ram had made during the siege. "Looks like almost."
Shaking his head sadly, Valor said, "I could've thought of a hundred better ways of getting us all out in a hurry. I could've thought of ten better ways alone of getting this wall down. We shouldn't wait till we're almost through to ram it. We should ram it now."
Hermos granted him a dubious look, then set his fingers around the loosened stone before him and started working it free.
"I know, I know. We don't want to alert the soldiers. Still, 1 say, what's the difference if they know?"
The midget's ramblings were cut short by a terse, whispered command that came from a harlequin at the mouth of the entrance. "Hermos, you'd better get up here."
The urgency in the lad's voice made the freaks stop working, though none could tell if the messenger was excited or afraid. Hermos, his eyes hard, strode with long paces across the sandy ground.
"What is it?" Valor called out impatiently.
"It's Marie," the lad said.
Hermos began to run as a shocked thrill passed through the crowd. Valor shot from the wall in fevered pursuit of the giant, and the others, a heartbeat later, dropped their rocks and arrowheads to follow.
Hermos vaulted up the stairs, taking ten in one stride. He passed the scrambling messenger a quarter of the way from the top and pressed on. The sound of twenty-some flapping feet filled the air behind him, mixed with the frustrated grunts of Valor. "Let me through! Out of my way!
Hermos, wait!"
Hermos reached the rim of the arena and peered out across the ruined carnival grounds. His eyes followed the pointing finger of one of the freaks, out to the carnival gate. There, two guardsmen stood, well out of longbow range, and they pointed down the heath road.
Scanning the dusty highway, Hermos spotted Marie. The man-giant's face brightened and something akin to a smile broke across his lips. She was walking alone down the trampled trail, a stick clutched in her hand. As she moved along the road's edge, the tapping stick guided her. Her tattered clothes had been replaced now with a thick gray robe, which wrapped her slight frame formlessly. The hood of the robe was thrown back from her midnight hair, revealing her elegant face and beautiful, lily-white eyes.
"Marie!" Hermos shouted in sudden joy, his voice ringing through the arena and filling the heath beyond. "Marie!" he cried again, but a swift fist in his calf silenced him before he could shout a third time. Looking down in sudden rage, he saw Valor pointing over the arena rim.
"The guards, you idiot!"
Hermos shot a glance out toward the thin line of soldiers that stood along the hedgerow at the periphery of the carnival. There was a gap in the line. Five of the warriors had broken from the ranks, their places being absorbed by the spreading line. Those five, swords in hand and crossbows on their backs, now rushed toward the gate. Toward Marie.
"No!" Hermos bellowed, pushing his way through the thick crowd that had gathered to gawk over the rail. In moments, he had reached a freak watchman. With one swift swipe, he wrenched the-loaded crossbow from the man's arms. Then, with a growl, he bolted along the rim of the arena.
"What are you doing?" Valor screamed, his good hand raised imploringly. He jumped from the stone bench and followed in Hermos's wake, knocking the other performers out of the way.
The man-giant had already reached the rope he'd descended the night before. Grimacing with the effort, he slung the crossbow over his back and twined the hemp around his left arm. He paused for only a moment, checking to make sure the end was knotted about the stone bench and the guards were still out of bow range. Then he threw himself over the wall.
Cursing, Valor slid to a stop a moment too late. He slapped the rail in frustration and leaned over to watch the giant's descent.
Hermos was sliding down the rope, which spiraled in burning lines around his arm. The pain only deepened the fury on his face. His feet struck the ground at a run, spraying sand into the air behind him. He charged for the gate. With a moan of dread, Hermos saw that Marie had almost arrived, tapping her staff in apparent oblivion as she moved forward. He glanced the other way: the five guardsmen were converging on the gate, and the two gate sentries readied their swords.
Hermos released a roaring scream that ripped through the air.
The guards flinched, and two of them broke off to engage the lunatic giant. As they ran, the soldiers reached back with practiced ease for their crossbows and brought them to bear.
In huge, leaping bounds, Hermos closed the distance to them, his face livid and a growl on his lips. He reached over his shoulder and grappled the stock of his crossbow, which bounced painfully against his back. He pulled the weapon awkwardly forward, hoping to shoot the first bolt. Too late. A metallic twang sounded from one of the soldiers' crossbows. Hermos felt a fiery jolt in his thigh: the quarrel ripped through it, coming out the other side.
He didn't slow.
With a white-faced gasp, the soldier ditched the empty weapon and drew his sword. The young warrior beside him frantically fiddled with his bow as he raised it for a shot. Another feral screech rang out from the man-giant, and the soldier triggered his quarrel into the sand.
Hermos descended on them. He was two paces from the swordsman when he discharged his bow. The quarrel buried itself in the soldier's chest, knocking him back off his feet. In the next instant, Hermos swung the empty crossbow about and raked it over the other man's face. The young soldier's neck snapped, and he flipped over like a limp doll.
Hermos didn't pause, his strides lengthening to bring him to the gate. Gasping in horror, the five warriors there whirled about to face him, sheathing their swords and scrambling to draw their crossbows. Marie stood surrounded by them now, small and helpless in their midst.
"Marie!" Hermos called again.
"Stop or die!" shouted one of the guards, hefting his crossbow and taking aim.
"Stop, Hermos!" came Marie's thin cry. Her voice had only a taint of its old anger. A new sadness tilled it.
The man-giant staggered to a stop, more from the shock of what he heard in Marie's voice than from her command. Only then did he look down at the wound in his thigh, and the wide crimson line that ran from it down to his toes.
"The war is over," Marie called out, striking her staff on the ground for emphasis. She paused as though listening for the man-giant's footfalls. In the silence that followed, she said, "Drop your weapons, all of you."
The three remaining soldiers looked back dubiously at her, then at the gate guards. Marie handed them an elegant scroll, which she had produced from her pocket. The older of the two gate guards, a drawn man with a scarred cheek, took the document, unrolled it, and began to read. He blinked as he scanned the words, and his war-calloused thumb speculatively rubbed the seal at the scroll's base. Looking up from the document, he swallowed hard, and began to roll it up again. He handed the scroll back to Marie and nodded curtly to the soldiers standing there.
Quizzical looks crossed their faces, and a few reluctantly lowered their weapons.
"I said 'Drop them!'" Marie barked, striking the nearest soldier with her staff. The warriors complied, their swords and crossbows dully striking the sandy ground. When Marie spoke again, her voice was quieter, but it still carried to the man-giant. "You, drop yours too, Hermos."
Puzzled, the man-giant let his crossbow fall to the earth.
Marie pointed with her staff toward the captain of the guard and barked, "Tell them what the scroll said."
The captain looked at her, his lips drawing into a thin line. The younger soldiers around him regarded the man with confused expressions.
"Go ahead," Marie urged, pushing past the guards.
With steely eyes, the captain watched her go. "We're pulling out."
"What?" came the chorus of replies.
"You heard me! Spread the word. Get your things. We'll gather at the gate before marching out."
Marie nodded once. "Get going, unless you want to be dragged before the Council of I'Morai and charged with Insurrection."
The men peered at her with angry, unbelieving eyes, then reluctantly dispersed from the gate.
Marie walked across the stony courtyard. She headed straight for the man-giant, her face down-turned and solemn as she tapped her cane on the rough rock.
Hermos stood before her, mouth agape, his hands -clamped over the wound on his trembling leg. Straightening, the man-giant took a tentative step toward her, then another. "They let you go?"
"Of course," Marie snapped crossly. "They tried me. I was innocent." Her voice sounded odd, as though it were strained through metal teeth.
Hermos asked, "Are you ... all right?"
"Yes," came the response, the edge in her voice softening.
With an uncertain smile, the man-giant took two short strides toward her and embraced her tightly. She felt stiff in his long bony arms, and, though she did not push away, she didn't return the embrace either.
"Praise Qin-sah you are back." Hermos lifted her and cradled her in his long, gaunt arms.
Instead of trying to fight her way loose, Marie lay still in his grip. The man-giant's eyes narrowed, but, without comment, he carried her toward the arena. The pain in his thigh had disappeared and, despite the extra weight he carried, the giant limped only a little. He reached the wall, finding that someone had tied a loop at the end of the rope and lowered it for them. A crowd of smiling performers had gathered at the arena's rim, gripping the rope and motioning him to step into it.
Valor was at their front, sitting astride the rail and shouting, "Let's gol We can't wait for you to climb up here, you oaf!"
Nodding, Hermos stepped into the loop with his good leg and latched on to the rope with one arm.
"Heavel" cried the midget at the top, and the band of freaks one by one disappeared as they spread out down the stairs. The slack in the rope snapped taut, and suddenly, with frightening speed, Hermos and Marie were slung to the top. The loop yanked Hermos's leg over the rail, where his trailing leg snagged. The loop slipped from his foot, and the freaks, still pulling, tumbled backward in a laughing pile at the base of the stairs.
Hermos smiled at the giggling crew and set Marie down on her feet within the arena. She stood up, straightening her robes, and paced away from the man-giant. Struggling to draw his wounded leg over the rail, Hermos staggered after her.
Already, though, a cheering mob of about seventy performers stood in a thick ring around her. They tentatively reached out to touch her, as though fearing she might be a ghost, and poured out a torrent of questions:
"How did you escape?"
"What does that scroll say?"
"When are the soldiers leaving?"
"What happened in I'Morai?"
Valor wriggled his way through the pressing throng and tapped the walking stick she carried.
"What's with this? I thought you didn't need one of these," he jibed happily.
Marie's face was stone-hard as she replied, "I do now."
Hermos pushed his companions aside to clear a path for himself. Reaching Marie, he fell to his knees and wrapped his arms about her.
She spun on him, her face very solemn and her sightless eyes boring into him. "Please, Hermos. No more." Her narrow fingers fiddled with a red gemstone that hung about her neck.
