|
An Excerpt From: RENEGADE AQUARIUS
Copyright © SAMANTHA WINSTON, 2006.
All Rights Reserved, Ellora's Cave Publishing,
Inc.
Leonie leapt into the air and twisted sideways before
landing again. She didn’t miss the beam. She spun on one foot, leaned over
and did another handstand, arching her back until
her feet touched the beam a mere hand’s span away from her head. Bent thus,
her hips in the air, her hands and feet on the beam, she felt suddenly very
vulnerable. But she kicked her feet into the air once again and used the
impetuous to spring upright.
The crowd, white clouds puffing from their mouths,
pressed forward as much for warmth as to congratulate her for the
spectacle. A round of applause greeted her bow, and she was satisfied to
hear the clink of coins in the hat that Simon passed around. Excellent. If
only the wind hadn’t acted up, her performance would have been perfect. She
smelled burnt hair now and sighed. She’d tied it in a tight bun, but
tendrils escaped. Now one strand was frazzled and her cheek had started to
sting.
She gave one more leap, landing lightly on the ground in
front of the beam. The fire felt hot on her back. She stayed there for a
minute, for she loved the heat and her bonfire was a pool of light and
warmth in the inky chill. Hurriedly, she slipped her feet back into the
warm slippers she’d left at the foot of the beam, and Simon handed her a
cloak of wool lined with soft flannel.
Winter gripped the land in its fist; frost sparkled on
the roofs and windows, the farmers’ and townsfolks’
breath left white plumes in the evening air, and
everyone bundled in thick coats and cloaks. The moon was rising now above
the frost-laced slate roofs. It was a sickle moon, its points looking
dangerously sharp in the cold air.
Then a trumpet blew and Freya, the next performer,
mounted her gray horse, and the crowd hurried to press around the makeshift
ring in the midst of the village square. They’d put sawdust over the frozen
ground and used bales of hay to form the circumference of the ring. On the
broad back of her gray horse, Freya danced and spun, leapt through rings of
paper and fire, and charmed the crowd with her lithesome grace. Freya was
from Ea, a land near the sea, famed for its horses and trainers.
Leonie would have liked to have seen some of Freya’s act, even though she’d seen it countless times
before, but she had to rub some salve on her cheek. She headed for her
caravan, parked just outside the city gates, hurrying because she had to be
back to act as ringmaster for Hercules, Raymondo,
Darvin and Suze when
they presented their Quartette Adagio act. Three strong men and a small,
extremely agile woman. The villagers really loved that part of the show.
Her fire dance and Freya’s capering on horseback
were just to whet the appetite. The real magic started when the jugglers,
wolf tamers, wire walkers, knife throwers, strongman and acrobats took over
the ring.
She arrived in front of the door to her caravan and stopped.
Someone stood in the shadows.
“Who’s there?” Leonie wasn’t afraid. She had been to
places that reeked of danger. This town was peaceful, part of the kingdom
of Marduk,
whose lands were fertile and whose towns were rich.
“Are you Leonie?”
“Yes. Who are you?"
I’ve been looking for you. I want to join your circus.”
The voice was that of a young man, and as he stepped out of the shadows
into the starlight, Leonie could see that he would be an advantage to her
circus—no matter what he did. On second thought, she’d better make sure he
had some sort of skill. She might be the leader of the troupe, but she
didn’t hire people for looking good. And yet, something about him struck a
chord in her the second she set eyes on him. He was tall, with broad shoulders
made broader by the heavy cloak he wore. His hair caught the starlight and
she saw it was pale brown, like silverwood, but
his eyes were very dark.
His eyes were what she noticed the most about him. They
held the night within them, so dark they appeared, but his emotions and
thoughts showed clearly. Or perhaps he only showed her what he wanted to.
Who was this man? It had been ages since she’d quivered just from a
look…but then again, his gaze was anything but simple. Arrogance, first of
all, then humor, intelligence, interest, and something else showed in his
regard. It was strange how strongly he could communicate just with his
eyes. She literally had to pinch herself to tear her own eyes from his keen
gaze.
“Wait a minute.” She reached up, opened the door to her
caravan and went inside.
For a second she leaned her back against the door,
trying to compose herself. Then she shook her head. “Stop it Leonie,” she
said sternly to herself. “He’s just a handsome stranger looking for a job.”
The salve was in her medicine cupboard, and she dabbed it on her cheek. She
couldn’t resist checking her makeup in the small, round mirror hanging on
the wall. Nothing was badly smeared. She wiped a trace of ashes from her
forehead, smoothed her marigold-bright hair and, her heart beating
strangely fast, she went back outside in the frigid night to see if the
young man was still there.
He was. He leaned against the caravan, his cloak drawn
up to his chin, his expression pensive.
“So, what can you offer to my troupe?” she asked. And
mentally she chalked up a point in his favor. He’d heard of her troupe,
obviously, because he’d come to her. So he understood she was in charge.
Some men hated that.
“I can juggle water with my sword,” he said. “Actually,
I cast illusions. Am an illusionist, if you
prefer. I work with swords, ice and water, crystals and silk scarves.” As
he spoke, although they were in the shelter of the caravan, the breeze
tugged at his hair. Leonie looked closer. Yes, he was Enlil, from the
kingdom in the sky. No doubt about that. A cloud man. Tall, sandy haired,
with steady dark eyes. Cloud men were unpredictable—she’d known a few and
been to Cloud City
enough times to know that you should never assume anything about them. But
if an Enlil said something, it was usually the truth. An illusionist.
Well, she was a daughter of the burning desert, and a
pragmatist. What he needed was a baptism by fire. “If you want to join my
troupe, you can perform tonight. I’ll introduce you right after the
next-to-last act.”
“Fine.” His gaze didn’t even flicker, unless it was a
spark of amusement she saw deep within his eyes.
Laconic, too. She liked that. Her people, the Anu, from the land of fire, were loquacious and
passionate. There were no other Enlil people in her troupe. He would be an
interesting addition. And the cold wouldn’t bother him, unlike her. She was
always shivering and looking for a warm fire.
A shout from the village square reminded her where she
was. In the land of the Marduk, home of farmers
and merchants. The laughter grew louder. The scene was almost finished,
then. She nodded at the man. “Be ready when I call you. What’s your name?”
“Aquarius,” he said, and the smile that had until then
only played at the corners of his mouth widened, showing almost straight
teeth and a dimple. Damn. A dimple.
CLOSE WINDOW
|