Chapter 28

Monsoon's End

Sylvie rubbed her nose thoughtfully as she walked along the corral that served as her quasi-permanent training rink. It had been weeks since they had arrived, more like two months at least, and so far Nightshade had seemed content to sit in the depths of the jungle like an oversized tarantula. The camp had taken on an air of permanence to it now. Several of the temporary structures that had been erected the first night had been replaced with ramshackle stick shacks, and several of the RV's that housed the performers had yard decorations emplaced in front of them. There was almost a worn trail between the village and the circus that had constant traffic on it as people walked to and from the camp. When she had asked him, trying to be casual about it so that he wouldn't suspect, why he was sticking around, he had told her it was simply that the village offered a steady source of income for the circus, and that he needed to recoup his losses. In addition, Nightshade claimed that as news of her and Taryn spread, people would come from all the nearby villages to get a look at them, bringing in even more cash.

Sylvie wasn't too sure about how fast the news would spread, but she had to admit that they had been bringing in people nearly constantly to have a good look at her and Taryn. It made her feel self-conscious to see strangers elbow each other and whisper and point at her. Treating her as if she was some strange animal brought in from the street! She refrained from spitting in disgust, It was so hot down here she feared dehydration. Instead she swished her tail.

At first it hadn't been too bad. There was the usual stunned silence that came when she ran the track, and again when Taryn came into the show and the villagers realized that there were two of them. Then the whispers had come. Sylvie didn't speak any Portuguese at all, or the odd mixture of Native American and Portuguese that they used in its place down here. Still, she could tell much by how they acted all furtive around her, and the fear that was in their voices. Clearly, they thought they were some sort of demons or spirits that had been captured and…tamed. They had become impressed with Nightshades ability to control them, and had already started asking favors of the townsfolk.

Sylvie growled irritably. He thought they didn't know, but then he might not care either. After all, they were his prisoners, and not actual employees, no matter what he said about it.  It was almost insulting, that he even bothered to act like they were employees. After all, it wasn't as if they could leave if they really wanted too. Sylvie had done a careful recon with her newfound freedom, and saw the barkers watching her movements closely. The performers were even worse, always there when she turned around. Trying not to seem as if they were watching. There was no way for her to escape without notice, and even if she did the villagers would tell Nightshade, or more likely, take her back.

Still, the recon wasn't a total loss, she thought. She had seen Nightshade talking with some scraggly looking farmers. They had holes in their clothes, wore threadbare pants and large straw hats. They looked like poor farmers down on their luck. Nightshade had given each a huge bundle of cash, and the farmers had passed back what had appeared to be nothing more than junk. Broken bits and pieces, and bits of square jewelry, which were nearly black with age. Sylvie found her brow furrowing. Why was he paying them for pieces of junk? Taryn had thought that he might be paying them for pieces stolen from Aztec or Incan temples. It made a certain kind of sense, Sylvie admitted. She knew Nightshade was rotten to the core, and so stealing culture and selling it for his profit would fit right in with his character.

Sylvie sighed as she continued walking. There wasn't anything she could do about it, anyway. It galled her to admit that she had to stand aside and let him get away with it, but she had no choice. She had to get Taryn home. It was her fault that Taryn had wound up here, and she would get her out of it if it killed her!

A quick glance up at the sky told her it was almost midday. Her watch had been taken from her for not obeying fast enough and Halls had refused to return it until she "learned not to be sloppy in her forms". Now, she had to be extra fast on her hooves to keep from being late, or beg one of the show-folk to tell her the time. Midday meant about an hour break before having to run another set of laps, then training in the barrel race, plus work on her shooting. Despite firing only blanks and having movie magic for effect, Halls insisted that she practice firing her rifle. Halls even let her have real bullets in the gun. Sylvie longed to turn it on Nightshade or Big John, but that would be suicide. It wasn't worth the risk yet to Taryn. Besides, Nightshade had been pretty damn efficient at removing all maps that could possibly show her the way out and home. She had no idea how she would get home even if she did figure out how to escape!

The problem of figuring out exactly where she was bugged her all through the practice session. Ms. Halls even threw a stone at her rump to get her to focus. All it did though was to make her bolt into one of the fences. She rubbed her stomach absently, still feeling the sting of the wooden slats even now. All of her thinking had gotten her exactly zilch. There was no way for anyone of her size to get in anywhere unnoticed. The thought was actually laughable. A centaur trying to get anywhere without being seen.

As she walked into her trailer, she saw Taryn sleeping on the ground. Since their new "travel trailer" that Nightshade had ordered modified for their use had been completed, they had been allowed to sleep together again. Their home now consisted of a converted semi-trailer. It was fairly narrow, but wider than many of the other choices available to them. Nightshade had found it last week while he was out being admired by his fans. He had purchased it for their use, and had the handlers modify it for the girls. Now the trailer boasted a small sink, and a shower near the back, and a pair of mattresses bolted in the back. The interior walls had been painted light blue to accentuate the sparse lighting that had been installed. Ventilation was provided by a pair of roof vents along the top of the trailer. Sylvie had noticed that the walls of the trailer had been reinforced with aluminum, and the door locked on the outside. The vents were big enough for a human to sneak out, but not a centaur. The trailer was a gilded prison to the girls. But then she never expected anything less.

Walking into the back of the trailer, Sylvie thought briefly about waking Taryn up for work, but decided against it. She looked so peaceful lying there…as a matter of fact; she was a bit tired herself. Surely she could get away with a few minutes to herself. Those mattresses looked inviting. She found her legs walking over to them, and folding of their own free will. She sank into soft bliss. The mattresses folded to her belly and gave it the right amount of cushioning to be really comfortable. Her eyes began to shut. A small nap then, just to clean out the cobwebs in her brain. She had been doing so much worrying and thinking lately, a chance to catch some sleep…that's what she needed. Just…Sylvie's eyes fell down and she was out like a light.

The next few days proved to be no better for the girls. They performed for the show nearly every night, only stopping when torrential rains prevented villagers from gathering. The forecasts looked increasingly wetter, it was nearing winter, and this part of the world apparently had only two seasons, wet and wetter. It wasn't enough to douse Nightshade's spirits. He could be found anywhere in the show, wearing his black ringmaster outfit and striding through the thin crowds, or among the performers, gesturing and speaking grandly about places they would see and the riches they would get. "…and you thought Washington was a rich plum, just wait until we reach London. A truly grand city, with a rich history. Why, the people of England will flock to our show, once they learn of our performances! We will perform for even the highest of nobility!" He spoke gravely, almost intoning the inevitable. "And then we will take Cairo and Italy by storm. But first we will hit Rio de Janeiro! There we will make our first appearance." His eyes almost glittered with avarice as they oh so casually glanced over Sylvie and Taryn as they stopped to listen. Shuddering at the gaze of him and his people, they quickly hurried on.

It was obvious that Nightshade's words were having some effect. Everywhere in the show, people were practicing performances, or perfecting new routines that were coming out. Sylvie worked as hard as the others, seeking to perfect her routine as well, but for very different reasons than everyone else thought. They figured her spirit broken after so long in the company of Halls. Anyone would, she admitted ruefully, so she had stopped pointlessly defying her. Instead, she worked on her routine, to show that she could be the star of the show, with all the exposure. It was the news, she hoped, that would get word back to her father about where they were. It was all that she could hope for, now. After a attempt by some local thieves to get to the show's strongbox, Nightshade had doubled the nightwatch throughout the camp. While the rest of the camp breathed a sigh of relief at the move, it severely crimped her efforts at coming up with an escape plan in case things went south.

Sylvie sighed as she studied the sky above. Already, much of the clouds had darkened, promising more rain. The show for today had been cancelled, meaning that she blissfully had a day off, one that she was determined to share with Taryn. The enforced hiring had been rough on her, the more so that now she was to become a performer as well. When Halls was not running Sylvie through the ropes, she was pushing Taryn in her routines. Taryn, with her light brown coat and dark hair, and deep tan from her time in the sun, was being made up for a Indian pony, with painted hands on her rump and a indian head band―complete with feather! It was almost too Hollywood. Still, Sylvie had to admit when she saw Taryn in the outfit, she was able to pull it off beautifully.

Sylvie idly kicked a can of oats out of the way as she trotted for cover. She didn't run as she didn't want to have to try and pull up short and risk sliding in the mud. As the can rattled away, she caught a glimpse of the American label.

A wave of homesickness washed through her at the sight, and her thoughts immediately turned to home. She wondered how her father and Ben were doing, whether her mother had returned to her firm or was still caring for Taryn's mom. And Mrs. Grogan, Sylvie flinched guiltily. She wondered how she was doing, if she had given up and moved back upstairs, or had stayed in the room at ground floor. How long had it been since she had last seen them? Sylvie tried counting up the days and was stunned. It had to have been four months since she had been kidnapped, if not more.

It was strange, she mused as she resumed walking to the trailer. The first couple of weeks, every minute had dragged painfully for her. Now that she was not actively fighting and was instead focusing on getting noticed, time was flying by. Sylvie's shiver had nothing to do with the rain. Nightshade was taming her, as surely as if she was a wild caught mustang being gentled. And she hated it. She hated the bowing, and the scraping. She longed to be able to shove his face in the mud and stomp on it. Now, she waited impatiently for them to head to Rio. It was there, she was certain, that she would be discovered by her father, and they would be rescued.

She entered the trailer, her eyes seeking Taryn. They rested on her by the small sink, topless. Her upper body had started gaining a little muscle tone since she started practicing for her routine, filling her body out nicely. The smooth transition line of human to equine was no longer startling to her. Instead, it seemed as normal as breathing. Her pert breasts were nicely rounded, with no sign of sag.

Taryn turned a cool eye at her examination, and Sylvie flushed slightly. She climbed into the trailer up the ramp that had been provided. She gestured at the sink. "What's cooking?" she asked blandly. Damned if she would let her think she was unnerved!

"My shirt and bra." Taryn responded dryly. She held up the garments from the sink, twisted severely and looking somewhat…stretched. "I got caught in three of the sudden downpours this morning. My clothes were sopping. I'm still wringing excess water out of them. Then I'll hang them over by the door so they'll dry."

"Ah." Was Sylvie's only comment. Now painfully aware of the state of her own clothes, Sylvie began taking them off as well. First she pulled of her shirt, tossing it next to the sink with a loud squish. She then reached behind her and popped the clasp on her bra, tossing it onto the pile as well. Nude, she squeezed behind Taryn for one of the towels and began to dry herself off.

"So, why does it look like you've just drowned?" Asked Taryn casually.

Sylvie snorted. "I didn't feel like running in the rain, in case I slipped in the mud again." Taryn joined her grimace. They had been caught by surprise by a rain squall, and had rushed to the trailer only to slip and fall into the mud outside. It had taken hours for them to clean the mud out of their horse coats and hair and tail. It was not an experience either of them wanted to repeat.

"Somehow, I don't think that's all of it." Taryn cocked her head, much like a bird. Sylvie bit back a groan. When Taryn got like that, she could be as persistent as a seagull after your fries, and that much harder to get rid of.

"I kicked a can outside that had an American label. It reminded me of home." Sylvie admitted.

"Home." A touch of sadness was in Taryn's voice. She stopped hanging her bra and looked back at Sylvie. "It's been a while since I let myself think of that place." She finished quietly, and Taryn thought, ashamedly.

"I'm not surprised." Sylvie whispered. "You get like that when Halls teaches. She doesn't leave much room for anything else. Besides, we'll get there again, soon."

Taryn looked at her teary eyed. "Do you really think so." She asked hopefully.

"I know so." Sylvie responded a bit more forcefully than was really necessary, but burn her if she was going to be weak in front of her best friend! "I promise. We'll be home for next Christmas."

Taryn stared at her a moment. "I believe you." She ran a hand over her head, drawing in a shuddering breath. "The plan has got to work." She muttered. "No way they'll be able to miss us in Rio. News of us is going to spread. One way or another, we'll end up on TV, and the sheriff or your father will see us. They'll come take us home."

"Yep." Sylvie said comfortingly. "You'll see."

A knock on their door produced a flurry of activity, trying to get to their spare clothes in the tiny dresser. Calls for "just a minute" and "Hang on a sec!" gave a quick lull. Now dressed in dry t-shirts, they opened the door to see Bull, the strongman. He usually had a smile for the girls, although Sylvie had seen him throw a burly villager when the man had tried to push his way into the show. Now, he had a intent look in his eyes.

"Nightshade's called a meeting. Big top." Then he was gone.

Sylvie glanced at Taryn feeling a pit suddenly open under her hooves, and a narrow bridge all that stood between her and the bottom. The sick look on Taryn's face was encouraging. Blast it! What could that SOB want now?! Pausing only to close the door after them, they raced into the pouring rain. Sylvie once again thought fondly of buying a rain coat, but there were none left in the show that people would sell, and Sylvie would rather drown than ask Nightshade for anything. So they ran and got wet, while Sylvie cursing Nightshade under her breath, the words lost in the rain.