The Midnight Circus, стр. 43
Wedid not want to stay in the land of the Gipts, but slaves must do astheir masters command. And though we were not slaves in the traditionalsense, only hirelings, we had signed contracts and the Gipts are greatbelievers in contracts. It was a saying of theirs that “One who goesback on his signed word is no better than a thief.” What they do tothieves is considered grotesque even in this godforsaken desert-land.
Sowe were trapped here, under skies that rained frogs, amid sparse fieldsthat bred locusts, beneath a sun that raised rashes and blisters on oursensitive skins. It was a year of unnature. Yet if anyone of uscomplained, the leader of the Gipts, the faró, waved the contracthigh over his head, causing his followers to break into that high ululation they mis-call laughter.
Westayed.
Minutesafter Isak was taken, his daughter Miriamne came to my house with theRod of Leaders. I carved my own sign below Isak’s and then spoke thesolemn oath in our ancient tongue to Miriamne and the nine others whocame to witness the passing of the stick. My sign was a snake, for myclan is Serpent. It had been exactly twelve rotations since the lastmember of Serpent had led the People here, but if the plague of angelslasted much longer, there would be no one else of my tribe to carry onin this place. We were not a warrior clan and I was the last. We hadalways been a small clan, and poor, ground under the heels of the moreprosperous tribes.
Whenthe oath was done and properly attested to—we are a people of parchmentand ink—we sat down at the table together to break bread.
“Wecannot stay longer,” began Josu. His big, bearded face was socrisscrossed with scars it looked like a map, and the southernhemisphere was moving angrily. “We must ask the faró to let us out of ourcontract.”
“Inall the years of our dealings with the Gipts,” I pointed out, “therehas never been a broken contract. My father and yours, Josu, would turnin their graves knowing we evenconsider such a thing.” My father, comfortably dead these fifteen yearsback in the Homeland, would not have bothered turning, no matter whatthe cause. But Josu’s father, like all those of Scorpion, had been theanxious type, always looking for extra trouble. It took littleimagination to picture him rotating in the earth like a lamb on aholidayspit.
Miriamnewept silently in the corner, but her brothers pounded the table withfists as broad as hammers.
“Hemust let us go!” Ur shouted.
“Orat least,” his younger, larger brother added sensibly, “he must let usput off the work on his temple until the angels migrate north. It isalmost summer.”
Miriamnewas weeping aloud now, though whether for Isak’s sudden bloody death orat the thought of his killers in the lush high valleys of the north wasdifficult to say.
“Itwill do us no good to ask the faróto let us go,” I said. “For if we do, he will use us as theGipts always use thieves, and that is not a happy prospect.” By us,of course, I meant me, for the faró’s wrath would be visited uponthe asker, which, as leader, would be me. “But . . .” I paused, pausesbeing the coin of Serpent’s wisdom.
Theylooked expectant.
“Ifwe could persuade the faró thatthis plague was meant for the Gipts and not us . . .” I left thatthought in front of them. The Serpent clan is known for its deviousnessand wit, and deviousness and wit were what was needed now, inthis time of troubles.
Miriamnestopped weeping. She walked around the tableand stood behind me, putting her hands on my shoulders.
“Istand behind Masha,” she said.
“AndI.” It was Ur, who always followed his sister’s lead. And so, one byone by one, the rest of the minon agreed. What the ten agreed to, therest of the People in the land of the Gipts would do without question.In this loyalty lay ourstrength.
Iwent at once to the great palace of the faró, for if I waited muchlonger he would not understand the urgency of my mission. The Gipts area fat race with little memory, which is why they have others build themlarge reminders. The deserts around are littered with theirmonuments—stone and bone and mortar tokens cemented with the People’sblood. Ordinarily we do not complain of this. After all, we are the onlyones who can satisfactorily plan and construct these mammothmemories. The Gipts are incapable on their own. Instead they squat upontheir vast store of treasures, doling out golden tokens for work. It is a strangeunderstanding we have, but no stranger than some of nature’s otherassociations. Does notthe sharp-beaked plover feed upon the crocodile’s back? Does not thetiny remora cling to the shark?
Butthis year the conditions in the Gipt kingdom had been intolerable.While we often lose a few of the People to the heat, to thebadly-prepared Giptanese food, or to the ever-surprising visit of theGipt pox, there had never before beensuch a year: plague afterplague after plague. Therewere dark murmurs everywhere that our God had somehow been angered.And the last, this hideous infestation.
Normally angels stay withintheir mountain fasts, feasting on wild goats and occasionalnestlings. They are rarely seen, except from afar on their spiralingmating flights when the males circle the heavens, caroling anddisplaying their stiffened pinions and erections to their females whowatchfrom the heights. (There are, of course, stories of Gipt women who,inflamed by the Sight of that strange, winged masculinity, run off intothe wilds and are never seen again. Women of the People would never dosuch a thing.)
However,this year there had been a severe drought and the mountain foliage wassparse. Many goats died of starvation. The angels, hungry for red meat,had found our veins carried the same sweet nectar. Working out on themonuments walking along the streets