The Midnight Circus, стр. 44
Fifty-sevenhad fallen to the angel claws, ten of them of my own precious clan. Itwas too many. We had to convince the faró that this plague was hisproblem and not ours. It would take all of the deviousness and wit of atrue Serpent. I thoughtquickly as I walked down the great wide street, the Street of Memories,towards the palace of the faró.
Becausethe Gipts think a woman’s face and ankle can cause unnecessary desire,both had to be suitably draped. I wore the traditional black robe andpants that covered my legs, and the black silk mask that hid all but myeyes. However, a builder needs to be able to move easily, and it washot in this land, so my stomach and arms were bare. Those parts of thebody were considered undistinguished by the Gipts. It occurred to me asI walked that my stomach and arms were thereby flashing unmistakablesignals to any angels on the prowl. My grip on the Rod of Leadershiptightened. I shifted to carry it between both hands. I would not gomeekly, as Isak had, clamped from behind. I twirled and looked around,then glanced up and scanned the skies.
Therewas nothing there but the clear, untrammeled blue of the Gipt summercanopy. Not even a bird wrote in lazy script across that slate.
Andso I got to the palace without incident. The streets had been as bareas the sky. Normally the streets would be a-squall with the People andother hirelings of the Gipts. They only traveled indonkey-drawn chairs and at night, when their overweight,ill-proportioned bodies can stand the heat. And since the angels are adiurnal race, bedding down in their aeries at night, Gipts and angelsrarely meet.
I knocked at the palace door. The guards, mercenarieshired from across the great water, their blackfaces mapped with ritualscars, opened the doors from within.I nodded slightly. In the ranks of the Gipts, the People werehigher than they. However, it says in our holy books that all shall beequal, so I nodded.
They did not return my greetings.Their own religion counted mercenaries as dead men until they came backhome. The dead do not worry about theniceties of conversation.
“Masha-la,Masha-la,” came a twittering cry.
Ilooked up and saw the faró’stwenty sons bearing down on me, their foreshortened legs churning alongthe hall. Still too young to have gained the enormous weight thatmarked their elders, the boys climbed upon me like little monkeys. Iwas a great favorite at court, using my Serpent’s wit to constructwonder tales for their entertainment.
“Masha-la,tell us a story.”
Iheld out the Rod and they fell back, astonished to see it in my hand. It put an endto our casual story sessions. “I must see your father, the great faró,” I said.
Theyraced back down the hall, chittering and smacking their lips as thesmell of the food in the dining commons drew them in. I followed,knowing that the adult Gipts would be there as well, partaking of oneof their day-long feasts.
Twomore black mercenaries opened the doors for me. Of a different tribe,these were tall and thin, the scarifications on their arms likejeweled bracelets of black beads. I nodded to them in passing. Their faces reflectednothing back.
Thehall was full of feeding Gipts, served by their slimmer women. On thenext-to-highest tier, there was a line of couches on which lay sevenhuge men, the faró’s advisors. And on the highplatform, overseeing themall, the massof flesh that was the faró himself,one fat hand reaching toward a bowl of peeled grapes.
“Greetings,oh high and mighty faró,”I said, my voice rising above the sounds in the hall.
Thefaró smiled blandly andwaved a lethargic hand. The rings on his fingers bit deeply into theengorged flesh. It is ajoke amongst the People that one can tell the age of a Gipt as one doesa tree, by counting the rings. Once put on, the rings become embeddedby the encroaching fat. The many gems on the faró’s hand winked at me. He was very old.
“Masha-la,”he spoke languidly, “it grieves me to see you with the Rod of yourpeople.”
“Itgrieves me even more, mighty faró, to greet you with my news.But it is something which you must know.” I projected my voice so that even the women in thekitchens could hear.
“Sayon,” said the faró.
“Thesedeath-bearing angels are not so much a plague upon the People but arerather using us as an appetizer for Giptanese flesh,” I said. “Soon they will tire of ourpoor, ribby meat and gorge themselves on yours. Unless . . .” I paused.
“Unlesswhat, Leader of the People?”asked the faró.
Iwas in trouble. Still, Ihad to go on. There wasno turning back, and this the faróknew. “Unless my people take a small vacation across the greatsea, returning when the angels are gone. We will bring more of thePeople and the monument will be done on time.”
Thefaró’s greedy eyesglittered. “For no more than the promised amount?”
“Itis for your own good,” I whined. The faró expects petitioners towhine. It is in the contract under “Deportment Rules.”
“Ido not believe you, Masha-la,” said the faró. “But you tell a good story.Come back tomorrow.”
Thatsaved my own skin, but it did not help the rest. “These angels willbe after the sons of the faró,”I said. It was a guess. Only the sons and occasional and unnecessarywomen still went out in the daylight. I am not sure why I said it. “Andonce they have tasted Gipt flesh . . .” I paused.
Therewas a sudden and very real silence in the room. It was clear I hadoverstepped myself. It was clearer when the faró sat up. Slowly that mammoth body wasraised with the help of two of the black guards. When he was seated upright,he put on his helm of office, with the decoratedflaps that draped against his ears. He held out his hand and the guardon the right pushed the Great Gipt Crook into his pudgy palm.
“Youand your People will not go to the sea this year before time,”intoned the faró. “But tomorrow you will come to the kitchenand serve up your hand