Ignacio nodded.
A group of performers dressed in figure-hugging costumes with plumes of purple feathers bobbing on their heads giggled and waved to the ringmaster and Ignacio as they passed by. Veracruz winked at them. He bent down and pecked one of the women on the cheek while slipping her a discreet note.
Ignacio frowned. He never treated any ofhisfamily members in such a flirtatious manner. Not that he had many. His father never spoke of his childhood. The only hint about his past was the web of scars lacing the comandante’s right arm. Mother said he had been wounded when he was a young man, but he never explained why or how because he was ashamed. His mother had siblings, but they lived in the southern regions of the country and rarely wrote. But if Ignacio did have close relations, he was positive he wouldn’t offer them any winks.
The two young men wove through the bustling carnival. The sun was starting to descend. Soon, thousands of guests would be walking beneath the marquee to experience a night full of enchantments beyond compare. But where did those enchantments come from? What was fueling this strange place?
“How goes your reunion with Esmeralda?”
“Chillingly,” Ignacio said sourly.
The ringmaster laughed. “I figured as much. Esmeralda has spunk, yes? She reminds me so much of another brilliant showstopper I know.” He beamed. “It’s me, of course. I’m the brilliant showstopper.” He snickered at his own jest.
Ignacio didn’t find the ringmaster funny, but he smiledcourteously. An old habit he’d never been able to stop. Father always said a well-mannered child was the jewel on a parent’s crown. Ignacio never had a choice about being rude or not. His father didn’t give him one.
“Tell me, what do you think of my fantastical festival?” Veracruz asked.
One of the gondola lifts that took guests from the entrance of the carnival to the opposite end of the third, outermost ring started to sway overhead. With a squeak, it began to spin. The carnival hands screamed and shouted with exhilarated glee as they tested the ride themselves. Ignacio saw no ropes or wire carrying it. The only sign the gondola was held by anything at all were tiny specks of light glinting off a cable so thin he could only compare it to fishing wire.
“Carnival Fantástico is like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” he said honestly.
The ringmaster nodded proudly. “Nor will you ever.”
Ignacio watched Ángel Veracruz from the corner of his eye. For someone who couldn’t be past the age of twenty-five, the ringmaster had more crow’s feet than Ignacio had realized. Perhaps it was because the man was always smiling like he had won some great prize.
“Where does the magic come from?” Ignacio asked.
The ringmaster cupped a hand behind his ear. “Do you hear the music?”
Only the sounds of the carnival surrounded them. The clopping of horse hooves. Performers chattering. The people in the gondola screaming. There was no music.
As if it were waiting for its cue, the music began to play.
“The tune is called ‘The Tale of the Valerio Brothers.’ Ever heard of it?” Veracruz asked.
That surname sounded familiar, but Ignacio couldn’t place where he’d heard it before.
“I’m not sure,” he said.
“The story isn’t widely known. Especially not since King Amadeo began banishing stories about gods and magic years back.” He clicked his tongue. “Such a shame.”
They stopped before the Fun House. The entrance to the striped tent had been constructed to look like a menacing face. The eyebrows of the face cut in angry lines. Its eyes moved in hypnotizing circles. Beneath its ruddy clown nose waited a gaping mouth that billowed with glowing red smoke. Nothing about the tent looked fun to Ignacio. Though, he supposed, people who had never witnessed true horrors might find being frightened to near death exhilarating.
“Let’s see what you interpret from ‘The Tale of the Valerio Brothers.’ ” The ringmaster cleared his throat and sang the song perfectly in tune to the bouncing melody just like Esmeralda had done with her ridiculous rhymes during the parade.
“There once were two brothers called Valerio.
They worked for a circus and its impresario.
One day, the brothers came upon something inconceivable.
A window to the gods. A portal once believed unreachable.
The god of smoke and mirrors spoke to them from the Land of the Dead.
‘I’ll give you whatever you wish so long as you do as I ask,’ the god said.
That day, a delightful deal was made.
