Julian followed my gaze, then shook his head. “Of course not. All Pyrenese people are immune to fire.” His face worked for a moment as he thought. “Try not to get hit by any sparks tonight. I’ve never heard of anyone from Brisden sharing our immunity.”
My mouth fell open. I’d heard rumors of the Pyrenese people and how they were impervious to fire, but to see it in front of me was something else altogether. The man in the center of the arena wore clothes of pure gold so bright my eyes watered just looking at them. He spread his arms wide in welcome.
“Ladies and gentlemen, seekers of marvels and the extraordinary—welcome, welcome to theEmberlight Revelry! Tonight, the fire shall dance, the smoke shall unlock secrets, and the ashes themselves will sing of rebirth! You will see death become life, embers take wing, and creatures of legend rise before your very eyes.”
Flames rose to engulf the ringmaster but disappeared a moment later, leaving him and his clothing unharmed.
“Why didn’t his clothes burn up?” I leaned over to ask Julian.
“It’s not that kind of show,” he answered, then upon seeing my startled expression, went on, “Oh! You mean the material? There are some tailors that make fireproof cloth. In fact, when the tzar got married to a foreign bride, herentire dress was made of the material. It’s expensive but useful.”
I nodded as the ringmaster in the arena raised both hands, palms open, until the buzzing audience hushed. His voice rolled out, deep and commanding.
“Tonight, my friends, we stand in the heart of flame! In Pyren, we do not fear the fire; we feed it! We honor it! Webecomeit!”
He gestured at the glowing coals beneath his bare feet, sparks flaring around him. “So, lift your voices with me, and call the fire to life! Are you ready?”
“Yes!” the crowd cheered.
The ringmaster began to chant, “Burn, burn, burn it bright! Emberlight! Emberlight!”
The crowd repeated it back.
He cupped a hand to his ear, grinning wickedly. “Louder! Burn, burn, burn it bright! Emberlight! Emberlight!”
The crowd began to rhythmically stamp their feet together and chanted louder with each repetition.
Julian nudged me and stamped his boots on the wooden deck beneath our seats, chanting the phrase along with everyone else and nodding encouragingly at me. I joined in as our chanting rose in a massive swelling. “Burn, burn, burn it bright! Emberlight! Emberlight!”
Glancing over, I saw that Zafir still sat, arms folded across his chest as he looked pointedly away from where Julian and I were seated. While the tiered seating was crowded everywhere else, Zafir had still been given a wide berth by everyone else, and occasional nervous looks were thrown in his direction by those nearest to him.
My heart gave a sympathetic pang for him. There were so many rumors about Zafir, and they all left him lonelierthan ever. I knew better than anyone how painful loneliness could be.
The ringmaster’s voice, somehow amplified so it roared over the crowd’s chanting and stamping boomed, “Now open your eyes and step into an inferno of enchantment. Let the revelry begin!”
A thunderous cheer rang up from the crowd, all of whom whistled, screamed, and applauded. Acrobats attached to long golden ropes fell from the ceiling, their bodies spiraling through the air as the silk unwound. Just as they touched the glowing coals on the floor, the ropes caught fire. The acrobats, all donning that same golden fabric, climbed up the flaming silks and spun again and again in those mesmerizing cartwheels and turns. A trapeze artist swooped through the air between them as fire dancers flipped around on the arena floor.
Each act was even more mesmerizing than the last. There were tightrope walkers who juggled flaming sticks while balancing high over our heads. Trained birds of every color flew through fiery hoops and mazes. Fire breathers exhaled enormous plumes of flame so high that I wondered if the canopy overhead would catch on fire.
At one point, a shower of sparks fell over the crowd. I yelped and covered my head, and Julian, caught up in the performance, didn’t notice. Right before I got singed, Zafir had appeared behind me, holding out his cloak to shield me from the descending embers.
The moment the shower of sparks ended, Zafir retreated back to his original seat, but with more than a few new holes in his cloak. Next to me, Julian laughed that they should have put up warning signs, and that his clothing was ruined. “This style was going out of fashion anyway,” he said to me, still oblivious to the fact that I’dnearly been burned. “It’s good that I have an excuse to get rid of it now.”
At the end of the show, there was a reenactment of a phoenix rising from its ashes after its death, then a woman shifted into a phoenix before our eyes and flew over the crowd to immense applause.
“What did you think?” Julian asked me as he held out a hand to pull me up from my seat.
I allowed him to guide me through the crowd. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Zafir watching us closely, arms still folded tightly across his chest and black eyes burning.
The walk back was slow, mostly because Julian insisted on taking the most winding streets so we could “savor the moment.” Which really meant savoring the fact that Zafir was forced to trail ten feet behind us.
“He’s watching,” Julian said in a low whisper. “Shall we irritate him?”
I leaned in to whisper back. “Nothing would give me more pleasure.”
“Starshine,” Julian said in a louder tone, his voice honey-thick as he raised a hand to stroke my cheek. “Yes, that name suits you better than Alia. Don’t you think, Vizier?” He grinned over his shoulder at Zafir.
