The Saltimbanques Part 2

Danny understood stones and sky and a shadowy distance, disturbing weights, curves and edges, a comforting patch of red. Though he did hear, part of him did.

"Whatever happens, Dan," Mr Ha.s.so was saying, kindly enough it seemed, "it's all for a good cause. Now you run along and find your friends."

Danny stumbled from the office, blinking, shaking his head, trying to fathom what it had all been, nearly fell out of the bus.

Spotlights of magic. Moving. Getting closer.

The carnival following them.

These Saltimbanques.

The spotlights.

The lanterns. Dan noticed the lamps hanging in the trees, hanging from the buses, lighting the tents across the way, noticed how the words on the long bus sides seemed brighter, richer, firmer. So magical.

The Saltimbanques.

Performing in spotlights. Moving about. What had had Mr Ha.s.so said? Mr Ha.s.so said?

Kenny was there then, grinning, excited, seeming too young all of a sudden, just too too young.

"Danny, hi!"

"You seen Annie, Ken?"

Kenny shrugged and grinned. "Think I saw her over at the big tent. Lots of people are arrivin'. You're getting sweet on her, Dan!"

"Hey, she's a Ranger too! Just want to know where she is."

Kenny's grin became a leer. "Whatever you say. But ain't that closed-up bus weird?"

"Sure is. Why, do you reckon?"

Again Kenny shrugged. "Dunno. Just don't like goin' near it. It's real quiet. Spooky."

Like someone's waiting in there, Danny thought. Listening. "You keep clear of it, Kenny, okay?"

"Don't have to tell me. See you at the show."

"See you."

By the time Danny reached the big tent, there were well over two hundred people either crowded on the makeshift benches at the far end or standing along the sides, talking and laughing, poking good-natured fun at the modest set-up. Dan hurried to join them, unable to see Annie in the crowd but sure she'd be there waiting for the show to get underway. After what Kenny had said, he was sort of glad she didn't come over to join him, though another part of him wished she would.

He'd just squeezed in between two kids he knew on one of the front benches when he noticed the four serious-looking men in crumpled dark suits seated further along the row: no doubt Mr Atterling and his party. They were definitely from out of town and were clearly impatient; one of the men kept looking at his watch and muttering to his companions.

When Bernard Ha.s.so entered the tent, it was without a fanfare of any kind. He just strode in looking appropriately splendid in black tails and top-hat, carrying a glossy ebony cane with a silver ferrule at one end, a faceted crystal k.n.o.b at the other. It glittered and shone in the lamplight.

The chatter subsided immediately. People were grinning. This was more like it. There ought to be a spotlight, Danny thought, seeing the ringmaster standing before them all. He looks good but he should be standing in a spotlight.

"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls," Bernard Ha.s.so said in his rich and wonderful voice. "Welcome, one and all! We are The Saltimbanques. Nature's clowns and mountebanks. We have travelled the highways and byways of Australia to be here tonight, to offer an entertainment to the good folk of Reardon. The time is right for magic and merriment once again!"

And he held his arms wide, the crystal k.n.o.b of his cane twinkling with lamplight. There was no fanfare, but there was a sense of one as the performers ran into the tent: Walter, Haunted Jack and Gwen to the left, Robert, May and Jeffrey to the right, all wearing loose, brightly coloured bodysuits, st.i.tched all over with shapes and signs like Danny drew with his compa.s.s set at school, arcs intersected by straight lines. All but Mr Ha.s.so himself ran down the length of the tent to shake hands with members of the audience, then, after pinching cheeks and tweaking noses and pulling coloured kerchiefs from the pockets of some of the children, they all rushed back to form up around Bernard Ha.s.so near the entrance.

"Here it comes!" the ringmaster cried, and began twirling his cane, making a Catherine Wheel of flashing light as his troupe began making a human pyramid to one side, Haunted Jack supporting the other six as they climbed aloft to compose themselves in a very impressive display.

Something was wrong about it though, Danny realized. He had done a bit of balancing at school, and this looked like it should topple over any second. But there was Haunted Jack holding them all, and now raising his left leg, supporting the whole thing, and and going up on his toes. going up on his toes.

And - was Dan really seeing it? - now raising his right leg, so the whole pattern of human forms was just hanging in the air, all strobed by the dazzling twirl of Mr Ha.s.so's cane.

It couldn't be.

Everyone was leaning forward trying to be sure of what they were seeing. That's when Danny noticed how close and warm it was, and that the air smelled of woodsmoke and resin and something else. He kept blinking and sniffing to make sure of what was going on.

These hardly appeared to be the same people as the night before. They all seemed taller, stronger, not so much younger as more, well, in control, focused, powerful. They radiated confidence and energy.

And just how had the hovering pyramid been dismantled? For now Haunted Jack balanced Walter and an improbably nimble and alluring Gwen more skilfully than he'd seemed capable of sitting around the campfire that first night. Robert was juggling twenty b.a.l.l.s with casual recklessness, an almost disdainful smirk on his face. May and Jeffrey strode about on stilts, seemed to fall, would catch one another, then go teetering and tottering towards those standing along the sides at that end of the tent before steadying themselves and staggering back the other way. Now Birdy made his appearance, running about in his long coat and bird-skull hat and flinging buckets of confetti over the laughing onlookers.

At first glance, apart from the opening pyramid, the acts weren't anything special, though if you did look close, you started to notice things, how every now and then May and Jeffrey would lean too far over on their stilts yet not fall, or how one of Robert's hands would lift to wave at someone in the crowd or mop his brow without disturbing the steady flow of the b.a.l.l.s. Even when Birdy subst.i.tuted warm perfumed water for the confetti, the audience responded with delight.

There was a drunkedness, a euphoria surrounding everything. The air became heavier, smokier, dimmer. The lanterns had haloes. The resin smell was stronger than ever. People were still blinking and squinting to be sure of what was going on, but noone complained, no little kids cried, no-one got up to leave. It was as if they were in the presence of magic and knew it, and all wanted part of it. And the players came ever closer as the evening progressed, moving from the far end of the tent towards the benches.

Spotlights of magic.

Danny found himself remembering bits of what Mr Ha.s.so had said. Something about moving points of energy.

The performers were getting nearer. Soon they'd be clambering over the benches. No, Danny realised. The show would end first. The smaller tent was next-door - in astraight line to this one! in astraight line to this one!

What was it Mr Ha.s.so had said about ley-lines and the urbis axis urbis axis? Cities built in lines.

More to the point, why would he have told him?

There was no time to consider it further, for once again Mr Ha.s.so had his arms raised, and his voice was rumbling in the silence.

"Our final treat, ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, is in the tent next door. Yes, the Barrack Creek Bunyip itself! But it's one at a time, I'm afraid, bunyips being nocturnal and shy creatures when a crowd's around."

Muttering and exchanging uncertain smiles, the townsfolk filed out of the long tent and formed a queue outside the smaller one. Just as Mr Ha.s.so had stipulated, one person was allowed in at a time, to emerge a short while later blinking, with looks of puzzlement on their faces as if not quite sure what they'd seen.

"Keep it short, folks!" Robert kept saying from his place by the entrance. "There's lots of people so keep it short!"

"What did you see? What did you see?" younger kids were calling, eager for their turns, but it was clear that those who'd been inside didn't know what to say and just went off looking bewildered and smiling sheepishly to join relatives and friends. Danny held back, hoping to see Annie, to share as much of the experience together as Robert made possible.

"You there! Danny!" Robert called. "You wanna see the bunyip or not? You'll need to be quick. Show's over in a few minutes."

Danny pushed into the tent, smelled resin almost immediately, saw the lamps had haloes, saw the log over by the tent's far wall. Someone had moved it; the chain was stretched at full length. That was all.

"Too bad, kiddo," Robert said, right behind him. "Too late, I reckon. Maybe next time."

Danny was glad to be out of there, was relieved to see Kenny right in front of him, a few feet away, noticed too over near the large tent, Mr Ha.s.so shaking hands with the men in Mr Atterling's party. They no longer looked bored or impatient but were smiling and nodding as they started walking back towards their car.

"Did you see it, Danny?" Kenny asked. "The bunyip, did ya?"

"I missed it. What did you see?"

Kenny frowned and got a silly grin on his face. "I dunno. Hard to describe it really. But it was real neat."

That's when Mr Ha.s.so came over. "Right then, Dan. Thought Kenny might like to help Birdy and the others strike the tents while you and me walk a bit and continue our discussion from before."

And before Kenny could express his pleasure at being a carny roustabout, Danny got in with it first. "Roger that!"

Kenny stared at him in amazement, unable to believe what he'd heard. Mr Ha.s.so slapped Dan on the shoulder. "That's the way! Never know when you can use twice the pure!"

Danny looked straight at Kenny. "Roger that, too, Mr Ha.s.so!"

And they walked off, leaving Kenny Woke staring after them in confusion and disbelief.

Moments later, Mr Ha.s.so and Danny had left the others and were moving along the creek-bed. Almost all the townsfolk had gone, walking or driving back to town. A few headlights could still be seen heading off to distant properties, and if anyone noticed three bikes left by the highway they would've paid no mind. It was summer holidays, barely 10 pm, and with the days so hot, kids stayed up till all hours. All Danny could hear apart from their footsteps and the occasional insect sound were members of the troupe calling to one another as they brought down the tents. The voices faded with distance.

"Twice the pure, Dan," Bernard Ha.s.so said, guiding him with a hand on his shoulder. "That's the way. Still workin' on that part of it - why that kind of sacrifice is the best way to go, why sacrifice is necessary at all really. Like to think it's like the Indians killing a buffalo, you know, making an offering to the Buffalo Spirit. Then there's the alchemical angle, reconciling the opposites, and the geomantic tradition. There's just so much to know. But, hey, so long as it works, I say. What d'you reckon, Dan? Ah, but here we are."

Another tent stood in the middle of the creek, square and dark in the thin moonlight.

"In you go, boy," Mr Ha.s.so said. "Don't keep her waiting." And he lit the single hurricane lamp hanging on its wire hook, illuminating the only two things inside. One of them was Annie Hendist, sitting in the middle of the dirt floor, bound hand and foot, a hankie tied in her mouth. The other was a large black tree-trunk, hooked and broken, shaped by some past flooding, just lying there. The tent had been set up around it.

In line with the other tents, Danny knew.

He hurried across to Annie, pulled the hankie from between her teeth and started freeing her while Mr Ha.s.so took the lantern outside with him and began lacing the tent flaps together behind him. "Won't keep you long," he said, then the lamp was extinguished, plunging them into darkness, and Dan heard footsteps moving away.

"Oh, Dan!" Annie said, grabbing his arm, standing close. "I've been so scared!"

"What happened?" Dan was vividly aware of her.

"I - I'm not sure. One moment I was in the bus with you and Mr Ha.s.so. Then they'd brought me here. I was so terrified, Dan. They just left me here. I didn't know what they'd do."

"It's okay, Annie. You're safe now. It's okay now." So So aware of her. She continued gripping his arm. He could feel her breath on his cheek. "Do you know what's goin' on, Dan?" she asked. aware of her. She continued gripping his arm. He could feel her breath on his cheek. "Do you know what's goin' on, Dan?" she asked.

He didn't. He did. He tried to think back, almost had it. It was gone, then bits slipped back again.

"It's something about spotlights of energy. Moving in lines. They follow them." He was surprised to hear himself saying it. "Go from place to place, keeping up. They use it, Annie."

"For what?"

"Everything. Their performance. They were so different, so - changed. And that long tent, remember? Everyone was down one end. Their performance got closer and closer. Then it moved to the bunyip tent."

"The what tent?"

"The smaller tent. The one with the log chained down." And Danny went silent a moment. "Like this one."

Annie's eyes twinkled in the dimness. "This one isn't chained."

"I know."

They peered off to where the hooked, torn silhouette of the old log showed against the moonlit east side of the tent.

"How long we got?" Annie asked him.

"I lose track of time whenever I'm with Ha.s.so. An hour or two. I don't know how long it takes. Let's try to get out of here."

The st.u.r.dy canvas walls had been spiked through bra.s.s eyelets on the ground outside; the lacing on the flaps was knotted outside as well. The central and corner uprights were simply too thick and too well planted to break or dislodge, and repeated running against the tent's sides seemed to have no effect at all. They were standing by the entrance, trying to work the lacing rope so the knot was nearer, when they heard it.

Barely heard it, for it was the softest wrenching, the slightest sound of twisting. They stared at each other, then at the shape.

And saw one of the snapped-off roots at the top move, twist. The log was alive.

They could hear it creaking as it lifted slightly, testing the life it had, then heard a sc.r.a.pe, and another. There were a few pounding heartbeats of silence, then a third sc.r.a.pe, this time louder, harsher as it gouged the ground where it lay, made with the determination of something discovering discovering itself alive, filled with the desperate chance to live again as something so new. itself alive, filled with the desperate chance to live again as something so new.

Annie grabbed Danny by both arms this time.

"You believing all this, Dan?" she said. Such an odd question now.

"Of course."

"He wants us 'cause we're pure, Danny. That's what he told me. You know what that means?"

"Yeah. Sure. Course I do."

"And are you?"

"What? Me? Yes. Of course. You?" He would never have dreamed of asking it. That sort of directness was four, six, ten years in his future at least.

"You know it. Quickly. Take off your shorts!"

Perhaps it was what they did then, perhaps it was Kenny arriving in time, perhaps the enlivening energy simply moved on, but Kenny Woke was was suddenly there, stirred from his hero-worship of Birdy Green by Danny using suddenly there, stirred from his hero-worship of Birdy Green by Danny using his his signature line like that - a sailor's SOS, a flyer's Mayday, a carny's Hey Rube! - fumbling at the tent rope, undoing the flaps, never noticing how Danny and Annie checked their clothing as they left the tent. signature line like that - a sailor's SOS, a flyer's Mayday, a carny's Hey Rube! - fumbling at the tent rope, undoing the flaps, never noticing how Danny and Annie checked their clothing as they left the tent.

It all remained so dreamlike and uncertain, what happened in those few days, what Mr Jarvie later described as "smoke and mirrors" when school started back, just "so much hypnosis and hallucination".

The heat and the sameness of the days soon wore it down all the more. Blokes at the bar of the Stockman Hotel stopped peering into the aerial shot of Reardon, began looking at their beers again as they talked, and when Danny reminded people (even Kenny) about the carnival that had played out near Barrack Creek, they said, "Oh yeah", as if it had happened years ago not weeks, but sure, of course they remembered it. But what else could you expect in a land where the heat doomed normal folk to the limbo of wait-out, blurred grain trucks and silos into dragons, burred every lonely windmill into Don Quixote tilting at himself?

And just like that, Annie went off to stay with her aunt in Mildura for a while, which was no big deal, she'd done it often enough before, but she didn't say goodbye and it just pushed the whole thing further across into unreality and lack of proper consequence.

Then Mr Ha.s.so's letter came.

Dear Daniel, We pay our price too. Forfeit things like families. Something to do withthe energy, May says, probably where the notion of changelings comes fromdown through the ages. But no Dannys, Kennys or Annies for The Saltimbanquesunless we borrow, find apprentices however we can. Where else do you thinkwe come from? It's the other thing we do. You didn't disappoint us, Dan. Themagic pa.s.sed through you. The child will always be drawn to magic.