Chapter Twelve: Cotton

Cotton looked out from the darkness as the crowd applauded. She scanned them a final time. There were a few that could be possible. She walked through the back curtain and then dismissed the darkness. She could hear the audience shuffling and beginning to get up and leave. She needed to find the Horse Thief. It was time for him to broker a pact.

He was outside already, waiting for her. She had moved his act up in the order so he would have ample time to take care of his animals before the show ended and he had real work to do. He was watching the audience file out from the big top.

"What do you think?" She asked.

"I think you said Corsaña would give me opportunity to work on my contract and I am ready to."

"Right then," Cotton said, "who?"

"You say they like to linger, the ones that are more likely?" The Horse Thief asked.

"I have said that." Cotton said.

"In that case, I am going to go in and find some sad person desperately wishing there was more show." The Horse Thief said.

"Let’s see it." Cotton said. She let the Horse Thief lead, against the tide of exiting circus goers, back into the big top. There was a man still sitting alone in the stands.

"My friend" the Horse Thief said as he walked up. "I do not know if you have noticed this, but show is over, circus is done, it is time for you to go home now."

"You’re a little skinny to be sent to kick anyone out." The man said.

"Maybe is not my job to kick out exactly. Maybe is my job to find out why you are still here." The Horse Thief said.

"You're not common are you?" The man asked. The commons were the lands of the Northern continent where Common was spoken. They had long ago been many different nations with many different languages but the exchange of knowledge and goods had brought them together in common cause and language. There still were separate kingdoms and the old languages still survived but the only nation set apart from the commons was the Northern Empire well know for its warlike and expansionist tendencies.

"Who is to say what I am and am not.” The Horse Thief said. “I was not born in commons, but I am not welcome in Empire. I can claim nothing but my horses, and even they give me trouble some days." The Horse Thief still had the charming air of an aristocrat.

"Certainly, did not give you any trouble today." The man said.

"Thank you. But you are avoiding the point of our little conversation here." The Horse Thief replied.

"And what point would that be? You’re the one who came over to talk to me." The man said

"The point my friend is this, why are you still here?"

"Can't a man just enjoy a seat he's paid for?"

"As I said circus is over and there are plenty of places a man can sit without paying if a seat is his only concern. There are even some in this park that may have better views."

"I like the view here just fine." The man said.

"Do you?" the Horse Thief asked. "Even when the show is done?"

The man sighed. His combative and curmudgeonly demeanor dropped for a moment. "You ever think about a place. A place just right in front of you and you think about everything that happened there before and it’s almost like you can see each thing happening in front of you all at the same time. But then you just see it as it is. And you realize everything is done and you'll be gone before anything happens ever again."

"Perhaps," the Horse Thief said, "you are coming to that realization too soon."

"What do you mean by that?" The man asked.

"You do not necessarily need to be gone when things are happening here again."

"It’s not just here. It’s not just watching a show. It’s everywhere. A show just makes it all the more real. A life can be full of spectacular moments, but they are just that. They are moments, they fade and pass. Perhaps you took part in the moments or perhaps you let them play in front of you. I've watched many things pass, enough to know that marvelous things don't involve people like me."

"And why do you think that?"

"Experience like I've said" the man said as he stared again up into the rigging and all the apparatuses above the ring.

He needs to make an ask and an offer. Cotton thought. Before the old man walks off depressed from grieving a never had imagined life.

"What is it that you came here for today?" The Horse Thief asked.

"To see one more marvelous thing I suppose." The man said.

"You speak as though it were your last."

"I’m old, I cannot guarantee how much of the marvelous there is left for me."

"What if I could guarantee you that?" The Horse Thief said.

"What do you mean?"

"What if I could guarantee for you that you will see more marvelous things and be a part of them too."

"And how would you guarantee that?" The man asked.

"By offering you the same power I was offered when I was after a similar thing."

"Aren't you a bit young to have been after a similar thing."

"Perhaps but I see in you the same resignation and hopelessness that was in me."

"And what did you have to feel resigned and hopeless about?"

"My life, as it was." The Horse Thief said "as it happened I stole from wrong man and when my crime was discovered I was exiled from my home. I survived first winter but that was to do entirely with mercy of better people than me. Clerics of She Bear take task of providing shelter in winter quite seriously. But when thaw came, I had to go. They say my country kills just by its being. That there is far too much outside of safe walls. Even if it is spring. Freezing is not the only way to die. I survived somehow. Through luck, or spite, and with no small amount of theft. I made it out of the empire. And then I was still penniless and without occupation or title. I was greatly disliked by most in lands that were close to but not part of the empire. And even more so in the lands that were only recently part of the empire. I thought anything marvelous in my life was behind me as well. Back in a glittering palace and a lofty city. I saw my past as the height of my achievements and could not see how I could rise to it again. One day circus comes to town, and I watch parade and I think like you, ah something marvelous. So, I go to circus I sneak in I watch. It is indeed marvelous. An escape from terrible reality of world. And then I think to myself, there is beauty left in world, there is hope. And also, there are many horses worth stealing. And then I try and go to steal horse. I choose wrong horse. But who should come to my rescue but lovely ring master. And she made me an offer I will make to you."

"And what offer would that be?"

"One for something marvelous."

The man looked from the Horse Thief to the high wire and back again.

"Something marvelous you say? And how would I become a part of that?"

"By making a deal." The horse thief said.

The old man hmmed a growl "so it’s a pact then. Is that why you don't have a proper name Horse Thief? Because you gave it to a feyrie?"

"The Horse Thief doesn't have the use of his name because my father was born in a beautiful corner of the Commons that is now part of the Empire. So, I don’t like imperial names. And it's my circus. He is the Horse Thief." Cotton said.

"We’re not feyries here." The Horse Thief said, "our patron is of a different sort entirely"

"A demon then?" The man asked.

"Theres no iron in the valley." Cotton said with a hand on her torque.

"A devil?"

"Correct my good man." The Horse Thief said.

"You sold your soul to her?" He asked

"To my mother technically." Cotton said.

"And what did he get for his soul?" The man asked now addressing Cotton.

"Horse Thief" she prompted, directing it back to him.

"I have a roof over my head, canvas though it may be. I have never been hungry in the last two years. The little way I've always had with horses is now backed up by a bit of magic. I'm much better at stealing in general, and then I have the regular things a bit of illusion and some small thing to use in defense."

"And you like it so much you want people to join?" the man asked.

"Not exactly." The Horse Thief said.

"Well what is it exactly?" The old man seemed more skeptical about the marvelous by the second.

The Horse Thief took a breath and ever the aristocrat maintained his air of casual confidence.

"It happens," he said "that there is a way out of every pact. If I wanted to leave my own contract I would need to recruit so many souls to replace mine."

"Replace yours how?"

"In the infernal army."

"Maybe as a Northerner you don't understand this, but in the commons we try to avoid wars." The man said.

"Yes but the great infernal war is not like petty wars of territory the empire makes. And as I said, you can always buy your way out."

"So if this is so marvelous, if the war is so un-petty, why are you trying to buy your way out?"

"I am still young enough, and no longer so desperate as when I joined with circus. Perhaps I want option to live long life and then see where goddess death will lead me. But even if I could I may stay. The magic I would not want to lose and there is much here that is marvelous, much here I would miss."

The man was silent a moment "and would I be able to buy my way out too? If I decided this wasn't so marvelous after all."

"Of course, your escape clause can be negotiated relative to the length of your contract." Cotton said.

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The man took a deep breath and clasped his hands together considering. Cotton watched him carefully. He was old, that sometimes made people keener to join, they wanted a last chance for adventure. But it could also go the other way. A curmudgeon would complain and pine for adventure but spurn any offer of one. She was not sure yet which this man was, but the Horse Thief was doing well.

"How does this work exactly?" The man asked.

"It is simply a matter of what you want and how you are willing to pay for it." The Horse Thief replied.

**

"We're here at least another week maybe two. Gives you plenty of time to make any arrangements you need to." Cotton said as the three of them walked out of the tent.

"Nothing that would take two weeks to arrange." The man said.

"Well then Horse Thief, why don't you show him to Hutchenson and get him set up and settled in."

"Of course" the Horse Thief said and lead the old man into the camp.

Cotton watched them go a moment. The Horse Thief was doing well at this. He may even meet his escape clause if he was diligent about it.

"Excuse me?" A nervous sounding voice called out. Cotton looked in the direction of the voice towards the ticket booth where a woman was standing with a small crate in her hands. "I’m sorry," she called as Cotton walked towards her "it’s just I was told I should wait here."

Cotton quickly took in the young woman's appearance. She had that same visibly bookish quality as her brother.

"I assume Professor Sayyid sent you?" Cotton asked.

"Yes, you're Cotton Talarna?" She asked.

"I cannot say otherwise." Cotton replied.

"He told me to give this to you." She said handing over the crate. Inside were two glass bottles a pouch, no doubt containing the gold, and a sealed letter.

"Thank you," Cotton said putting it under her arm.

"Is this your circus?" The woman asked.

"It is" Cotton said with a smile.

"And you just get to travel town to town and perform?" She asked.

Cotton chuckled silently to herself. This would be entirely too easy. "Have you come to a show yet?" Cotton asked.

"Oh no, I've been too busy with my classes."

"You have enough time to run an errand for Professor Sayyid." Cotton said.

"Well yes, he was rather insistent." The woman replied.

"Do you enjoy your classes with him?" Cotton asked.

"Yes its fascinating."

"And what makes you so fascinated by demons?" Cotton asked.

"They're just the only thing worth fighting, aren't they?" She said

"I certainly agree." Cotton said, "but why do you think so specifically?"

"They want to destroy everything and pull it all into the chaos of torment and the unsung nothingness. Such a thing cannot be allowed to happen. Such a thing cannot be."

"The unsung nothingness cannot be." Cotton repeated. "That is a delightful turn of phrase. You have such passion."

"Yes well, my mother is a mendian and my father is a bard. I think they set me up to understand exactly why the demons can't win. Why they must be defeated."

"Your parents were adventures?"

"Yes." The woman replied.

"I’m sorry I’m being terribly rude I did not ask what I can call you."

"Belinda Mathery." She said. "You can call me Belinda."

"Belinda," Cotton repeated. "It has been wonderful to meet you. Why don't you come to the circus tomorrow. There's the matinee and the evening show come to either one."

"I don’t know if I could." Belinda said

"Please," Cotton insisted. "A complimentary ticket for you and a guest. Besides I'll have a response for the professor's letter no doubt and I'll need you to bring it to him."

Belinda bit her lip a moment. "I have been wanting to come."

"Please come I insist" Cotton said. "I'm certain you can get away for just two hours or so. The university won't crumble, the professors won't expel you from your courses, just come." Cotton said, "you'll love it here."

A smile broke on Belinda's face. "I will try. It does sound quiet like fun."

Cotton chuckled "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow, Belinda." She turned to go but then stopped "excuse my curiosity but it just occurred to me, you have a mendian and a bard for parents, what is your architype?"

Adventurous architypes were categories of magic and skill that those that would adventure could be sorted into. There were book mages whose power came from diligent study and understanding of spell. Blood mages who inherited some innate gift from a blessing given to an ancestor. Nature mages and wanderers studied the natural world and its animals and where able to create magic from them. Bards were born with the ability to hear the echos of the song of creation and shape it into magic as they willed. Mendians understood the truth, that all that is was one, and it enabled them to do incredible physical feats. Martialists studied with weapons until they were beyond mere mundane skill. And colarens connected to a primal rage that made them capable of incredible feats. And pact mages of course got their power by making a deal.

Belinda shrugged and made a dismissive gesture with her hands " I don’t have an archetype I’m not an adventurer, just a scholar."

"I don’t believe that for a second Belinda Mathery." Cotton said. She let a moment of silence fall. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow. Good evening" Cotton smiled, inclined her head, and turned to walk away before the woman could respond. Cotton had no illusions about why her brother had sent this student of his in particular to deliver her winnings from the previous night. And if Linnaeus himself had illusions Cotton would have no trouble dispelling them for him. That girl would be leaving Corsaña with her.

Cotton walked into her tent and set the little box on her desk. She peered into the money pouch and took out the bottles to find neatly folded paper under them. She unfolded it to find designs for some sort of cylindrical device. She guessed it may be the still her brother had spoken of. She withdrew the letter, broke the seal, and opened it.

Cotton,

I hope this finds you well. I would apologize for not delivering your winnings of our wager myself but given how we parted last night I thought it best I let you have your space from me.

Besides, I think Ms. Mathery makes a far better messenger than me. To call her a gift would be vulgar and depersoning. However, she does care deeply for our cause and I think might be more interested and find much more joy in what you have to offer her than I. I would not consider it a betrayal if the iron she wears were given to her by you and not me.

I am sorry if [struck out] that there is strife between us Cotton. We see so little of each other we should at least be on good terms when we do and I'm sorry for anything I've done to negatively contribute to it. Our family is complicated. But just the two of us don't need to be. We are on the same side of things Cotton. It doesn't have to be difficult. I'll be honest that I don’t know what’s between you and Satine. But that doesn't need to determine what is between us. I hope we can be better siblings and worse strangers.

I do also hope you'll take Belinda under your wing. She is a brilliant young student, bright as a new copper coin but the classroom is not where she will thrive. She reminds me of you a bit actually when we were younger. She wants so much to prove herself, and she is determined that she can. She can’t help but hold a room’s attention and sometimes it seems she has more passion than sense. I don’t know that she has a specific talent that will translate into an act but unless I am mistaken that is something you and mother can sort out.

I wish you all the best and every hope I have is yours.

Your brother,

Linnaeus Sayyid

Adjunct Professor of demonology

Anjeo Rojo University, Corsaña

P.S

I need you to name a price for your Horse Thief's name. It’s bothering me and I need to know. Please.

Cotton looked down at the paper. Her brother's signature was burned into it. It made Cotton smile, it was exactly the kind of flourish she could expect from him. Cotton relaxed and let go of the spell she kept cast to hide her horns and tail. It was a shifting. She was so used to keeping it up that it took no effort and switching between was easy. She looked in the mirror. Her horns were small to be sure. If she were careful, she could hide them with her hair. But that was too big a risk and she had no way of hiding her tail. She envied her brother. He lived in a diverse and metropolitan city. He worked in a field where his parentage was practically treated as a credential. It was safe for him to be himself. Cotton looked at her horns. Her brother's were larger but they were the same. They could be better siblings and worse strangers. That could be nice.

She thought of Kestian and every moment she had spent with them. Maybe she was making everything so much harder than it needed to be. Maybe she could just have a lover. Maybe she could just have a brother. Maybe she could just live her life. It had been a year since the last time anything bad happened to her or since she'd seen or had any word from Satine. She didn't need to keep waiting in fear for something bad to happen again. She could just live.

Cotton folded the letter and got out paper to write her own reply. She would send it with Belinda tomorrow assuming of course Belinda wanted to go back into the city at all. Cotton sealed her letter and picked up the bottles of spirit and still design. She was about to go and make her Horse Thief very happy.