Chapter 31

The Spectacular Centaur Wild West

The big top was literally jammed shoulder to shoulder with people. Sylvie had never seen it this crowded before, even when it they had drawn every villager for miles around. This was an endless sea of humanity, filling the air with so many conversations and jests, that it any conversation beyond three feet was lost in the din, and that was if you shouted at one another. Taryn stood next to her, nervously fingering the fringe on her Indian costume. The war paint had already been applied to her brown hide, and her hair had been given a single thick braid. A little skin darkener had made her seem as if she had spent her entire life outdoors. She looked, Sylvie admitted, a lot like an Native American.

"That's a lot of people." Taryn breathed, staring out of the bull pen. They were invisible to the crowd, but they could see out, a nifty and useful feature.

Sylvie leaned in and gave her friend a hug. "Don't worry, Taryn." She whispered. "I'll do my bit, you'll do yours, and we'll be found and home before the weekend." She tried to sound confident, but suspected she sounded anything but. That was a lot of people out there, and all their eyes would be riveted on her. The galling thing was, all the attention wasn't going to be on her act, it was just going to be on what she was, a centaur. Sylvie shook her head, feeling vaguely disappointed that no one was going to be paying attention to the act itself.

A signal came from one of the stage hands. They were setting up the first performance, the arrival act. Sylvie nudged Taryn, and they hurried to get to their positions. Halls looked over at them and frowned slightly. Sylvie threw her the sweetest smile she could muster and the other woman just grunted sourly. That harridan would be the first behind Nightshade that she would gladly send to prison. No one else deserved it more, with the exception of Big John. The big hulk, Sylvie knew, was dressed in a barker's uniform at the front, collecting the fees from people. Unsurprisingly, no one had tried to walk in past him or short-change him. The man exuded danger even in that ridiculous striped uniform. It was as if someone had dressed a tiger in a clown costume. Yeah, it might look funny, but you wouldn't dare laugh for fear he would rip your guts out.

A blaring voice pulled her attention to the center ring. Nightshade stood silhouetted on the edge of the ringmaster's stand. The lights dimmed in the rest of the tent until the darkness seemed like ink. Even the outer wings went black. Sylvie fought the urge to step or move; it wouldn't do for anyone to realize she was nervous. She only had time to realize the stupidity of that thought when a brilliant spotlight snapped on, focused on the center of the ring where the raised stage was. A moment later, Nightshade stepped into the ring, dressed in black of course. The severe cut to his face made him seem partly in shadow. The effect was like looking at death, and fully as frightening. The crowd, that had been muted to the sound of a giant bumblebee , went dead silent. It didn't seem like anyone breathed.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen." Nightshade's voice was low and seductive, with a slight breathy growl to it. He paused a moment after each sentence to allow a local translator to turn his words into Portuguese. Sylvie idly wondered what game he was playing, he could speak fluent Portuguese after all, but filed it away for later. He continued his speech, and Sylvie made herself pay close attention.

"Tonight, Nightshade's Carnival of Wonder (Sylvie wondered if the man ever stuck to one name for his show) will dazzle and amaze you. You will see feats of strength that will awe you, dazzling acrobatics that will amaze you. And joining our show, will be two of the rarest, most exotic people on earth. Coming from the plains of the Old West, please help us welcome to our show, Sure-Shot Sylvie, and Free Spirit!"

Thundering applause greeted his words, and the parade lurched into motion. First into the ring were the acrobats, bending and twisting as they somersaulted across the ground before scurrying up the poles for the high-wire act. Behind them jostled the clowns as they gamboled and slipped in their garish costumes, earning laughs from the crowd. Then there came the animal trainers and their stars, ranging from elephants to cats. There was even a woman who trained parakeets. Sylvie took a breath as she and Taryn trotted out into the ring. Their arrival attracted immediate attention, and the crowd went quieter than it had for Nightshade. At least for a moment, before the buzz of speculation and wonder filled the void. Sylvie did her best to ignore it, and was surprised at how easy it turned out to be. The dark lighting in the audience, combined with the bright lights of the ring, made it seem as if the audience wasn't even there. She treated it just like another game, keeping her focus. She was proud to see Taryn doing her part as well, smiling and waving at the shadows as they walked together. Once around the ring the parade went, and then back into the wings to await the individual acts.

While the acrobats and high wire trapeze artists did their bit, Sylvie hurried over to a large table set with water cups for the performers. Watched over by one of the hostlers, a taciturn man Sylvie had only met in passing. "Hello, Walt. How's it going today?" Sylvie asked. It never hurt to be polite.

"Not bad." The man grunted. "Here you go. Nightshade sez you get two more cups than the others, on account of your bodies."

Sylvie froze with the cup halfway to her lips, her eyes narrowed. "He did, did he?" She said slowly. "Well, tell him thank you, but I don't need to be treated any different than anyone else." With that, she downed her water and gave it back to him. Shrugging, the man used a marker and wrote her name on the side of the red plastic, and set it back, refilling it from one of the large coolers behind him. Stepping back, Sylvie let the others step ahead of her. She was not going to let Nightshade single her out for abuse from her fellows. He simply was not. She knew it was selfish and a little petty of her, but she was tired of him being so damn sensible with his suggestions, making it so hard to say no. Well, in this case she was not going to let him win.

She stalked away, feeling her tail swish angrily. She was getting so tired of this. Tired of working for a kidnapper, tired of wondering if she would survive the efforts of Halls teachings, tired of feeling guilty for causing the deaths of Mr. and Mrs. Gardner. She just wanted to go home and put her head underneath the pillows and pretend it was nothing more than a nightmare.

Sylvie banished those thoughts with a little effort. They were counter-productive and worse, smacked of defeatism. As she would tell her team, just because the other team had them down 0-10, didn't mean they couldn't turn it around and go for the win. They simply had to focus on making the right plays, and in this case, the right play was doing the show. By now, they were probably already on the web. It wouldn't be much longer before someone brought it to the attention of her father.

She spotted Taryn getting close to the edge of the wings, and with a start realized that it was almost time to go on. Hurrying to the wings, she accepted the rifle passed to her by one of the handlers. Doing a standard check of the piece, she quietly blessed Halls for driving gun safety into her head. Satisfied that her weapon was in perfect working order, and filled with blanks, she holstered it onto her back and tied the cowboy hat securely on her head. When running, the blasted thing kept trying to lift off her scalp.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen!" Boomed Nightshade's voice. "From the far away lands of the ancient world, comes two most extraordinary creatures. Visions to behold, they made their way to us from the days of the Old West, when cowboys roamed and Wild Indians ran free!"

Sylvie raced out of the gate, ki-yi'ng and bellowing fit to take her head off. Beside her ran Taryn, whooping at the top of her voice, braids flying at the back of her head, feathers bent almost in half from the wind. Sylvie unholstered her rifle while on the run, aiming it at a row of targets that were lined up at the other wing. Bang! Bang! Bang! Three of the targets went down. Dodging left, she slung the rifle so that it rested on her arm across her chest. Bang! Bang! Bang! Three more targets went down. She had two shots left. Spinning around, she threw the gun over her shoulder and pulled out a large-blade knife (dulled so she couldn't use it unfortunately,) holding it up to her eyes. She spotted the targets in the blade. Bang! Bang! One target tipped right over. The other teetered on the edge. Damn, one of the handlers must have misplaced the charge! Sylvie held her breath. The last target fell over.
Turning around, Sylvie reared in triumph. Taryn, meantime, had danced her way over, holding a large spear with feathers on it. Sylvie blinked in surprise. When had they added that to her routine? She raced through the range that Sylvie had used and then spun. A handler had brought up a tall archer target with bulls-eye. What on earth was going on here? Taryn squared up to the target with spear in hand. She wasn't going to―? She was. The spear left her hand in a mighty hurl. Sylvie's eyes tracked the spear as it flew through the air, a slight spin on it. The spear flew straight and true. </em>Thunk!</em> It landed near the center of the bulls-eye. Sylvie was impressed. How did she learn to become that good? Sylvie couldn't remember her trying out for track and field.  Taryn gave everyone a pleased grin before bowing to the thunderous applause. Realizing that Taryn was gesturing at her, Sylvie trotted up next to her and then bowed as well. Together, they ran out of the ring into the darkened wings.

"Well," she muttered quietly to Taryn, trying to calm her thumping hearts. "We should definitely be on the web by now."

"Yes." She said equally quietly. "I wonder how long it will take for the video to make it over to America?"

Sylvie shrugged. She had no idea. Hopefully tough, someone will have seen it that recognized them. Sylvie just hoped it was soon. The enjoyment she had felt running around out there, hearing the applause, feeling the shock of the crowd was heady. She feared she might come to like it too much to give up.