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“It’s good to see you again, Abigail. But … where are we?” Ned could see small lights in the distance, but closer by there were only trees, and grass, and darkness.
“Hyde Park, dear, central London.”
“Hyde Park?”
“Yep. If you’re in the capital and need to hide, Hyde Park’s your best bet. Been a fair-folk stronghold for donkey’s, and as good a place as any to lay low. It’s off the radar, see? But large enough to conceal a small army and with good access to the rest of the city. The woods here are full o’ sprites, kindly little things and always ready to help when it’s needed. It’s lucky we were in the area when the Olswangs messaged us. Soon as we got here, Bene sent Couteau and his best blades to find you.”
“I must have stepped through the mirror before they got there.”
“Yes, dear. Still, you’re with us now and this Park will keep you hidden till we figure out what’s what.”
Ned peered through the darkness. Sure enough, in the canopies of the trees he now recognised the tell-tale glow of sprite light, dancing in the branches. Behind Abigail, the Guffstavson brothers, Sven and Eric, were letting off a celebratory bolt of electricity, for once without needing to be angry, when they were unceremoniously barged out of the way by the most welcome sight Ned had seen all day. A giant mound of furred gorilla in the shape of dear George the Mighty, his friend and protector, who in turn was jostling for position with Lucy Beaumont. She was more than a friend or even family, and the bond between them as unbreakable as the rings they both wore at their fingers.
A swift crack of the elbow saw Lucy get to Ned first.
“I say, that’s dashed rude,” grumped George, who in truth had barely felt the jab she’d given him. “Hello, old bean, I—”
“Shut it, monkey – Ned!” shrieked Lucy. “I’ve been worried sick!” She closed her eyes briefly and paused for a moment. “And with good reason: the bargeist managed to get a tooth on you, didn’t it?”
“How did you know that?”
“It’s kind of my job, I’m the troupe’s new medic,” smiled his friend, before putting her hand gently on his shoulder and blinking. Abigail was right, it literally took a blink and Ned felt Lucy’s healing powers flooding through the wound like warm honey. A second later and the small cut had completely healed itself, as though it had never been there at all. Ned had seen Lucy work her gifts, but never so quickly or effortlessly.
“Wow, thanks, Lucy. You’ve got better at that.”
“You’re welcome. It’s all in the way you do the blinking,” and she followed it up with a wink.
Of everyone in the circus, from the satyr-horned acrobats to the feather and leopard-skinned dancing girls, it was George and Lucy that Ned had really needed to see. He had forgotten how vast and intimidating the oversized gorilla actually was, but no two sets of eyes or smiles could have done more to ease the pain of a missing mum and dad. And if Ned was happy to see them, his semi-loyal wind-up mouse was not far behind. Whiskers unfurled himself from Ned’s trouser leg for the first time since they’d heard the bargeist and made a bee-line straight for Lucy. In a second he’d scampered up her jeans and found a comfortable spot on her shoulder.
“Hello, Whiskers, I’ve missed you too,” she said.
“Don’t be nice to him, he’s behaved shamefully,” teased Ned, at his cowardly and now turncoat mouse.
The Debussy Mark Twelve promptly responded by sticking its tongue out at its master before nuzzling into Lucy’s neck.
“So what happened?” Lucy asked.
“I don’t know, really. A bargeist and a man turned up at my house and they’ve got Mum and Dad.”
She looked stricken. “I knew about the man, but I hoped they’d got away.” In that moment, all the goodwill, the excitement at their reunion, drained from Lucy’s face.
“But we’ll get them back, right?” said Ned.
Lucy smiled weakly. “I hope so. I mean … your mum … she’s kind of my …” Her voice broke.
Ned closed his eyes for a moment, feeling like a fool. “Oh, Lucy, I’m so sorry. I – I know she raised you at the convent, you must be as upset as I am. I didn’t even think, I—”
“Shh,” said Lucy, giving his arm an awkward punch. “You’ve had a pretty bad day as days go.”
She smiled, and Ned hugged her, as a shadow fell over them both.
George was at least twice the size of a normal gorilla and loomed over them like a great weathered oak, his face knotted with concern.
“We’ll find them soon enough,” he rumbled. “And when I find out which rotter is responsible, I’ll make them pay, pound for pound, for what they’ve done.”
As Ned watched the great ape’s fur bristle, he had no doubt that George would, just as surely as he felt his heart plummet. This was the Circus of Marvels, the greatest troupe on earth. If they didn’t know who was behind his parents’ kidnap – who actually would? And that was when he noticed. Even under lamp and fairy light, Ned saw beyond their gathered grins and realised there was something different about them. They were worn and battered, one or two of them had arms in slings and Enrico, the youngest of the Tortellini brothers, was walking with a noticeable limp.
“What’s … what’s been going on here?” said Ned.
George shrugged. “Ned,” he said, “you have a lot to catch up on.”
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New Recruit (#ulink_8c446ff2-d0b3-5215-a0bb-8929c07a492e)
ut before Ned could ask anything else, they were joined by the man who would likely have most of the answers. His gaze was as fierce as ever and his moustache had lost none of its twitch. He wore a crooked top hat, a beaten military jacket with gold braiding, and red and white striped trousers. At his hip, as always, was a coiled whip that slithered ever so slightly and with a will of its own.
“All right, all right, I think the boy’s had enough hair-ruffling for one day.” It was Benissimo, the circus’s Ringmaster and leader. Behind him, hanging back, was a man Ned had not seen before. He seemed at odds with the rest of the troupe. He wasn’t wearing any of the more flamboyant circus garb. He had short cropped dreadlocks, wore a black evening jacket, worn Adidas trainers and a faded green and yellow “I LOVE JAMAICA” T-shirt. He smiled at Ned but said nothing.
“So this is him and here he is,” said Benissimo, squaring up to Ned. “Let’s get a proper look at you. Still not particularly tall, face not outwardly bright – hello, pup.”
“Hello, goat-face.”
Benissimo gave him something between a smirk and a scowl.
“As good as it is to see you, I shouldn’t wonder it spells trouble for my troupe and their tents.”
Ned looked around him, at the gathering of weathered faces. “You seem to have found enough of that without me.”
“You know me and my Marvels, Ned, we like to keep ‘busy’. Tell me, is what I’m hearing right, about the intruder in your house?”
“Yes, and he would have got me if it wasn’t for the mirror.”
“Whoever he was, he must have been skilled. From what we heard from the Olswangs before they went off-radar, he subdued your parents in moments.”
“I think he got the Olswangs too,” said Ned. “Their door was broken.”
“We suspected as much.”
“And the man? Do you know who he is?”
“No,” said Benissimo, before seeing the look on Ned’s face – and on Lucy’s too. “But fear not, I’ll have every friendly eyeball on both sides of the Veil looking for him before the day’s out. We will find them.”
Somehow, hearing that from Benissimo eased Ned’s mind. When Benissimo put his mind and troupe to a problem, the problem, no matter the odds, was always solved.
The circus’s newest addition gave a fake cough and looked at the Ringmaster expectantly. If anything, the man in the “I LOVE JAMAICA” T-shirt looked rather lived-in, but had the sort of broad smile that put you instantly at ease.
“Ned, I’d like you to meet an old friend of mine, Jonny Magik. Jonny, this is the ‘Hero of Annapurna’ … well, the other one,” he added, with a nod to Lucy.
Ned cringed at hearing his nickname.
“Hi,” he said. “It’s just Ned, actually.”
“You’ll get used to it,” chuckled Jonny. “You know, some people call me a conjuror, others a shaman, but in the end they just settle on ‘Magik’.”
“Names aside, Jonny,” Benissimo declared, “the boy’s parents are missing and we need to find them. There’s not one of us here today that don’t owe the Armstrongs a debt.”
There were agreeable rumblings from the troupe, but at the mention of Ned’s parents, Jonny Magik’s easy manner slid from his face. If Ned didn’t know any better, he’d think the man was visibly sweating, and as Ned drew nearer, peering at him, the shaman recoiled. It was a slight enough movement to go unnoticed by most, but it was there nonetheless and Benissimo had spotted it too.
“That indigestion still bothering you, Jonny?” asked the Ringmaster.
“Oh, you know, Bene, it comes and goes,” he winced, now seemingly quite unable to meet Ned’s eyes.
“Why don’t you go and have one of your rests, eh? The two of you can catch up later,” said a concerned Benissimo, before ushering the man away.
As soon as he was gone, the Ringmaster turned his attention to the troupe.
“Right, you lot, back to work – there’s tents need pitching and Darklings that need feeding.”
“But, Ned, boss, we just got him back,” they murmured.
“Well, he’s not going anywhere, is he? Now go on – hop to it!”
Reluctantly the gathered troupe disbanded. Even Alice finally did as she was told, leaving Ned with Benissimo, George and Lucy.
“Ned, we need to talk, alone,” said Benissimo.
Lucy frowned, then pursed her lips into an expression that clearly said, “I don’t think so.” George, on the other hand, let his face fall into a wrinkly plea, albeit a silent one.
The Ringmaster’s moustache twitched. It was a thinking twitch and only a little irritated. He looked to Lucy, then George, then back to Lucy again before settling on Ned.
“Oh, very well. The three of you – my quarters in ten minutes.”
Whatever had just happened with the new guy, Ned was quite sure that it had little to do with indigestion. It had felt and looked much more to him like Jonny Magik was uneasy with the mention of his parents. But why?
Before he could ask anyone about it, they were interrupted by the pattering of two very small feet. Ned turned to see an out-of-breath gnome who had come running over from the Glimmerman’s tent.
“Your friends, sir, the jossers,” he breathed. “They’re awake and I think they would appreciate your company.”
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Farewell (#ulink_6cb009e7-a54e-5b81-972c-48af61908629)
iant apes are generally considered to be quite alarming, especially when they talk. So George waited outside whilst Ned and Lucy went in to see Gummy and Arch. Laid out on two makeshift stretchers and surrounded by all manner of fried and sugared treats were his two pals. Gummy’s eyes were as wide as saucers and his mouth was opening and closing like a mute goldfish. Archie, on the other hand, seemed to have recovered from his fainting spell and was talking to Abigail excitedly.
The rest of the Glimmerman’s mirrors had now been covered up with intricately decorated tapestries, giving the whole dimly lit scene the feeling of being inside a giant Persian rug. Had either of the two jossers the eyes to notice, they would have seen that the patterns in the tapestries were moving, in hypnotic calm-inducing rhythms of colours and shapes.
“Trig-ono-metry, is it, dear?” nodded Abi patiently.
“Yeah, there’s probably loads of stuff you lot don’t know about, like pistachio ice-cream, do you have pistachio ice-cream?!”
“Oh, I think so, dear, yes, I think we’ve got plenty of pistachio ice-cream.” Which was when Abigail turned to Ned and Lucy. “Poor lad, his mind is completely frazzled, haven’t seen a josser this bad since, well, you, Master Ned.”
Her words seemed to have no effect on Archie at all and as soon as he spotted Ned he broke into a manic, over-enthusiastic smile.
“Hello, Ned! I knew you were a wizard. You’re all wizards here, aren’t you? You know, we always knew you were a bit different, brilliant but different. Imagine that, our friend Ned, a wizard.”
“You all right, Arch?”
“All right? Couldn’t be better! Everyone’s been so nice and, and the food’s amazing. Is it magic too?”
“Arch, this is Lucy, she’s a good friend of mine.”
At this point Archie was smiling so much that it looked as though it might actually hurt.
“Hello, Lucy! Are you a wizard?”
Lucy was about to laugh when Ned kicked her ankle. Despite his amusing condition, he was still Ned’s friend.
“Err, no, Arch. I’d probably be more of a witch than anything else, or at least something like that.”
Whilst the two of them spoke, an increasingly concerned Ned turned to Abigail. “Are they going to be all right?” he asked.
“Course they are, dear. Seen this lots of times. The Tinker’s sent over a de-rememberer. I think you should do the honours, Ned, they’re your pals after all.”
She handed him a long thin silver device that looked a lot like a flute, which of course it wasn’t.
“Me?! Can’t Tinks do it?”
“He’s in a bit of a state, love, what with all the trouble we’ve been having. Besides, it’s you they need to forget.”
Ned swallowed. Of course it was. The less they remembered of Ned, the safer they would be back amongst the jossers. By now there was probably a squad of pinstripes doing the exact same thing to Gummy’s parents. He looked at the Tinker’s device. He’d never actually used one before; on its side was a series of numbers from one to ten.
“How does it work?”
“Well, dear, you blow through it, and they fall asleep for just a little while, and when they wake up they’ve forgotten you, and anything that happened with you. Like, say, encountering a bargeist and the Circus of Marvels. A ten’s a total wipe. They’d never even recognise you, not never. After that it gets a bit muddy. If you set it to seven, say, they’d probably only forget you for a year, maybe longer. Just till everything quietens down.”
“But they’re … they’re my friends.”
Abigail put her arm round his shoulders.
“Yes, dear, I know they are, and you need to love them right now, enough to keep ’em safe.”
Archie was still prattling on manically and Gummy was looking more and more like a goldfish by the minute. They were the two best things about his life as a josser. And now, like his mum and dad, he was going to lose them, if only for a year or so. What if they found a new Ned? New Ned or not, though, there were more important things at stake.
“A real friend would want them safe forever,” he said. “Maybe I should just set it to ten and be done with it?”
Ned clicked the dial. He did love them enough to keep them safe, but far too much, he realised, to let them go forever.
