Nano 8

‘I told you. I did tell you.’ Laurel pushed past him angrily, choking on her tears. Art stepped out of the way silently.

Mr. Lefroy leaned against the doorframe and watched the boy. Art turned away, uneasy.

‘It’s a good offer, Art,’ Lefroy said. ‘Mr. Sept knows what he’s talking about. And a future in the books business will be quite stable and comfortable.’

‘But I don’t want it,’ Art said, not looking at Lefroy. ‘I know, it’s for my own good, but I don’t want it enough. I want to…I guess I want to stay here, and help out in the fields, and everything.’

‘I know,’ Lefroy said heavily. ‘I would have liked you to stay here too.’

‘I’m sorry for upsetting Laurel though,’ Art muttered. ‘She expected this, I think.’

‘Laurel’ll get over it after a while.’ Lefroy shook his head sadly. ‘But she’s cut up about you leaving now.’

Ellen came out of the room and placed a comforting hand on her husband’s shoulder. ‘The girl will be all right after a few days,’ she said. She smiled gently at Art. ‘I’m really sorry you’re leaving, but as Christopher said, it will be better for you, Art. There’s – there’s nothing much for you here, I’m afraid. We would have liked you to stay, very much so…but there it is. You stay here, and then you’ll realize that you can’t move or even breathe after a few years. It’s not a good place for a young man to find his fortune.’

‘I’m not looking for a fortune,’ Art argued. ‘I just want to stay here. I don’t mind living here and earning my keep, even if it’s not a lot, and it’s a lot of hard work in the fields.’

‘Listen to the lady, young man,’ Lefroy said. ‘I’ve talked it over with her and Mr. Sept, and we all agreed that it would be a better prospect for you to follow him. You can come home in the future, once you’ve settled in with the business, and we will always, always, welcome you back.’

‘But.’ He bit his lip and fell silent. Ellen pulled him into a hug and patted his shoulder. Art kept quiet, waiting for his throat to unstuck itself.

The next morning, Mr. Sept arrived in time for breakfast, packed and ready. Ellen kept herself busy with preparing breakfast and slipping the last few things into Art’s pack. Laurel had shut herself up in the attic and was refusing to come down, even after her father went upstairs to coax her down. Vivien slept peacefully in bed, oblivious to the bustle and talk.

Breakfast was over too soon, and then it was time to leave. The sun had not risen properly yet, but Mr. Sept insisted – gently – that they had to leave soon to arrive in the nearest town that evening. Ellen handed a bottle to Art without saying anything, her eyes red. Lefroy cleared his throat several times and went up to the attic again to bring his daughter down for the goodbyes.

Art was halfway out of the yard with the man, when he heard the patter of footsteps and a shriek. Laurel flung herself around his leg and wailed. ‘Don’t go!’

‘Er.’ He stopped and pulled her arms off his numb leg. ‘Laurel. I have to go. I don’t want to, you know, as much as you.’

‘But I want you to stay!’

‘Look,’ he said patiently, kneeling down to look her in the face. ‘I’ll be back soon, I promise. I’ll bring you back presents too, or anything you want. I can get you all those science journals, nearly all of them, where I’m going. I promise.’

‘Okay.’ She grabbed his face, then pulled him forwards and planted a wet kiss on his forehead. ‘Keep your promise, okay? Or I’ll go out looking for you. And then you’ll be sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ he reassured her, smiling.

And then they were off, the two of them, man and boy. Art turned for a last look at the house, but Ellen or Lefroy had already shut the door. Mr. Sept turned to look too, and nodded knowingly to the boy. They didn’t say anything for the next hour or so.

‘One last performance today, and then we’ll be moving on,’ Iris said as she checked the list. ‘Good. I’m getting sick of this place already.’

‘Where are we heading to next?’ Katya reached over and snatched the list back. ‘Looks like I’m on duty today with the boys.’

‘Not sure.’ Iris nibbled on a nail nervously. ‘I hope the river isn’t flooded though. My dad said that we’ll be taking that route.’

‘What route?’ Katya said absently, reading the list critically. ‘Hey, look here, you’re on the mermaid performance again. It’s not your day!’

‘Anna’s sick today.’ Iris sighed and added, ‘Of course she would be, stupid girl. She went out swimming last night with some boys. Her cousin’s mother caught her, and then she – the mother, I mean – brought the boys back to their fathers and told them everything. Anna would be stupid to show her face again around her.’

‘I see.’ Katya smirked and shook her head. ‘Tut tut. You would have thought that girls these days had more brains.’

‘And more time to do other things besides meeting boys secretly,’ Iris said. ‘Hey Katya, have you seen anyone suspicious around here lately? Men, for example?’

‘If you’re talking about those weird men watching the creek the other day, then no, I haven’t. But I can see several suspicious men looking at us right now.’ Katya tossed her head, setting her hair flying in the wind. Iris rolled her eyes and snorted.

‘I was talking about the men at the creek. Thanks all the same.’ Iris pulled herself up reluctantly. ‘Well I’d best be getting ready. Those damn shells!’

Katya waved her off cheerfully. Iris dodged a big group of kids with red balloons tied to their wrists – schoolchildren out on an outing, she thought – and hurried across to the next field. Men were already filling up the mermaid tank with hoses and pumps, while Jonas circled the tank, checking the breathing equipment and emergency aids. The benches in front of the tank were filling up rapidly with children and families. Iris could hear shouts from the booth, where the man was urging people to ‘Step up, step up to see the show, one of a kind, not to be seen anywhere else in the world!’

‘Hey girly.’ Someone gripped her arm tightly and tugged.

‘Get off!’ she yelled, wrenching her arm back. She whirled around and brought her leg up. The man fell back quickly, stumbling over his own feet and landing on his back heavily. She watched in amazement as the man rolled over on to his face and began snoring loudly. By gods, he’s drunk silly! she thought.

Feeling slightly foolish, she ran off to the gate, leaving the sleeping man to a curious circle of bystanders who had heard her yell. Jonas was waiting for her at the tank, looking anxious and excited.

‘Hurry up!’ he called as she ran to the back to change. ‘We’re starting in five!’

Iris pulled the curtains close behind her in the makeshift tent and turned to pick up the costume from the shelf. Her hand froze in mid-air, despite the messages from her brain telling her that Jonas would be furious if she wasn’t ready on time.

The little man took off his hat to her and bowed deeply.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Langdon.’

Iris backed out of the tent and screamed.

Nano 7

‘Art, I presume?’

Art stared up in surprise. It was the elderly man who had taken Mr. Bunbury’s brother-in-law off to the inn last week.

‘Yes,’ he said, standing up and brushing the dirt off his knees.

‘Good morning, boy,’ the man said, holding out a hand. ‘I’m Mr. Sept.’

‘Er, good morning.’ He shook the hand uncertainly, feeling the hard dry skin beneath his own callused fingers.

‘Are your parents in?’

‘Er – they’re not – well – I think they’re in the house. I’ll take you there.’

‘Good good. I’ve something to speak to them, urgent business it is.’

‘Are you from the Big City, Mr. Sept?’ Art said, leading the man down the path and up to the house. Laurel, who had been sitting on the steps teasing the cat, leapt up when she saw them and ran into the house.

‘No, no,’ Mr. Sept chuckled. ‘Never been there in my life. I’ve heard tales of it though, many tales.’

‘So have I.’ Art stepped into the cool main room, where Ellen was teaching the girls needlework. She looked up when he entered with Mr. Sept, and stood up with a welcoming smile.

Laurel grabbed Art’s hand on her way out, and dragged him outside. He followed, though he was as curious as she was to know Mr. Sept’s business here.

‘Who’s the man?’ she hissed, as they glanced through the window. Ellen handed a cup of tea to the man, who politely declined. Art took note of the man’s reluctance to take off his coat, which reached to his ankles.

‘I don’t know!’ he hissed back. Laurel tugged painfully on his sleeve, demanding an answer. ‘I told you, I don’t know!’

‘Should we fetch my father?’ she asked, waving to the fields. Mr. Lefroy had been out there since morning, and he had told them earlier that he would be meeting a few friends for lunch. Art shaded his eyes and tried to spot any moving figure in the fields. There was none.

‘Where is he?’

‘Mr. Wash’s field. I know where there’s a shortcut through to his house.’ Laurel glanced back at the house. Ellen was now deep in conversation with Mr. Sept. ‘Do you want me to go?’

‘All right then. Go, quickly.’

Laurel sprinted off immediately, despite the heat of the afternoon. Art shuffled into the house, catching bits of the conversation as he pretended to busy himself with sweeping the floor. Vivien watched him, wide-eyed and surprised. She was too shy to say anything though, and Art swept as close as he dared to Ellen and the man. Both did not notice or pay any attention to him.

‘Yes, I’m sure my husband can help you out in that area,’ Ellen said thoughtfully. ‘I shall have to ask him first, naturally, but I’m sure something can be arranged.’

‘You’re very kind, Mrs. Lefroy,’ Mr. Sept said, nodding. ‘I’m sure he will not mind too. I thank you for your time, and now, I shall be leaving.’

‘Oh, you can stay till lunch at least!’ Ellen pressed. ‘It won’t be too much trouble.’

‘I’d better be going, Mrs. Lefroy,’ Mr. Sept said, rising from his seat. ‘Good afternoon.’ His bright eyes turned to look at Art intently. ‘Good afternoon to you, boy.’

‘Same to you, sir,’ he said, leaning on the broom. He heard the sound of running feet from outside, and Mr. Lefroy’s voice calling for Laurel to wait for him.

‘I don’t think he means any harm,’ Art said much later in the evening.

Laurel sighed and closed her eyes. They were both in Mr. Wash’s pasture field, where he turned his sheep to graze. Most of the sheep had been taken to town that day for the middlemen to inspect and determine their price. She appeared not to have heard him.

‘I think so, anyway,’ Art insisted. ‘I know you think that he’s got something to hide, but he doesn’t look like he wants to hide anything. I don’t quite know what you have against him,’ he laughed.

‘You’ll thank me when he takes you away,’ Laurel said sleepily. ‘I can tell.’

‘His eyes are odd though, aren’t they?’ Art pulled up blades of grass where the sheep had not nibbled to the roots. He shredded them and tossed the bits onto Laurel’s face. She merely rolled over and sighed again.

‘I don’t mind his eyes,’ she said. ‘But let me sleep!’

Art – in a good mood today – offered to carry her on his back to the house. She agreed.

***

‘I knew it!’

Iris struggled to open her eyes in the bright light. Surely it couldn’t be morning already – she scrambled up in bed hurriedly, pulling the blanket up to her chin.

‘Katya!’ she screamed.

The elder girl was standing beside her bed, dramatically pointing an accusing finger in her face. Iris swung a leg over the edge, attempting to kick her in the shin. Katya side-stepped the kick nimbly and laughed.

‘I knew it!’ she crowed. ‘Aha! Caught you both red-handed!’

‘Caught us both what?’ Iris dropped onto the bed again and shut her eyes. There was a headache developing in there somewhere. That bitch Katya.

‘You and Jonas! In the same room! At night!’

Iris kept her eyes shut but answered all the same. ‘We were helping to watch the younger ones last night, me and Jonas. We must have dozed off during the night.’

‘In the same room?’ Katya said smugly. ‘Yeah right. Do you think I’m stupid or what?’

‘I think you are.’ Iris pulled herself up and sighed. ‘Look, if you don’t believe us, go and ask both our mothers and the other mothers. They’ll tell you. Go on.’

Katya wasn’t stupid, despite her numbskull behavior. She plopped down at the foot of the bed and giggled. Iris sat up and yawned.

‘You could have watched the children on your own, all the same,’ the girl pointed out, plaiting her long red hair idly. ‘You’ve done it so many times before.’

‘Yeah, I could, but I saw some people yesterday, by the creek.’ Iris hugged a pillow and thought over the events in the last afternoon. ‘I saw someone between the trees while we were down with the kids in the water. I don’t think anyone did. And then I sent Jonas to have a look – or pretend that he had to gather sticks for the kids – and he said that he heard someone, or several people, in the wood. I asked my dad, and he agreed that it would be better if both of us watched over the kids last night, since the others were so busy with the repairs and the meeting.’ Iris glanced at the other girl, who had stretched herself out on the bed. ‘Where were you anyway? We tried looking for you, but no one seemed to have seen where you went.’

‘I was busy,’ Katya said shortly.

‘With a young man from the town.’ Iris began picking at stray threads in the blanket nonchalantly. ‘It’s amazing what you can see when you really know where to look.’

‘I was just talking to him!’ Katya swept back her hair angrily, her cheeks flushing. ‘You can’t say that I did anything wrong!’

‘Yes, but, you see, I thought that there was a rule against that,’ Iris said sweetly. ‘Do you remember? Something about not meeting up with strange young men after dark, because we have a reputation to keep, and it wouldn’t be good for the youth to run around without adult supervision in the dark.’

‘Oh shut it.’

Iris beamed, knowing she had won. It was one up to her against Katya then. The red-haired witch was forced to eat her own words, ha!

‘What about the people among the trees?’ Katya said after some silence. ‘You were saying you saw some people?’

‘I definitely saw one.’ Iris pummeled the pillow thoughtfully. ‘I thought I saw movement behind the first man though, but I wasn’t sure. Jonas didn’t find anything suspicious in the wood, but there was a gentleman in there, out on a stroll.’ Iris turned to look at Katya, who waited for her to continue. ‘The thing is, as Jonas cleverly noted when he first told me this, no gentleman would come all the way down to the creek for a nice morning walk. It would be too far from the town, besides, he wasn’t with his friend or dog or anything. And that’s unusual.’

‘Maybe he lost his way,’ Katya suggested.

‘I don’t think so. He didn’t ask for any directions from Jonas.’

‘Maybe he wasn’t even a gentleman in the first place. We’ve met people like this before.’

‘I’ve thought of that too,’ Iris said slowly, ‘but why? Why go to that place? There’s nothing in there, but just dead leaves and wood. Even the trees are stunted and the kids don’t go there because it’s so dark and muddy.’

‘Ha, another mystery for Iris Langdon!’ Katya exclaimed with a sweep of her arm. ‘We shall be waiting with bated breath for further development from the wondrous sleuth!’

Iris threw the pillow at her none too gently. ‘Shut up. I’ve got to think.’

Nano 6

‘You can follow the road here, and then cut across this loopy bit where the river is, before turning left and taking a shortcut through these woods,’ Jonas said as he traced the route on the crudely drawn map with a pencil. Iris reached over and picked up the piece of crumpled paper.

‘Yeah, but are you sure that the river won’t be flooded now, what with the extra rain and everything?’ She held up the paper, but the sunlight was too weak for her to see anything special.

‘I dunno. Your dad thought it would be a good route,’ Jonas said, shrugging. He tucked the pencil behind an ear and lay down on the grass. ‘We’ve used this route quite a few times earlier this year. We’ll pass lots of small towns and villages, and business would be good in those places.’

‘I see.’ She handed back the paper and added, ‘But still – I’m worried about the river. It’s shallow there; people usually use that bit of the river as a crossing, but we’ve had warnings before that the river tends to flood over in that place.’

‘Do you think it’ll really flood over at this time?’ Jonas rolled over on his tummy and propped his chin on his ink-stained hands. ‘Right. I’ll talk to your dad then, and see what he thinks about this. I’ve got to hand in the reports anyway.’

‘And I’ve got to help out with the younger kids,’ Iris said, getting to her feet reluctantly. ‘I promised the other girls that I’d help with the training.’

She waved him off at the gate and crossed the field to the creek, where the older girls were teaching the younger ones the tricks and techniques of the various performances. Several small boys were already in the creek, vainly attempting to swim in spite of their wet clothes. Iris slid down the slope and splashed into the water, laughing.

Someone watched the children and girls from among the trees, from a small copse of thin saplings further along the slope where there was a good view of the creek and the people in the water. Iris thought she felt someone’s stare on the back on her neck, but she couldn’t see anyone nearby. She dismissed it without another thought.

‘That the girl?’ a man said, coming suddenly out of the shadows of the thicker trees deeper in the wood.

The other man, who had been the one watching the creek, merely grunted. He was frowning as he continued watching the children. A hand was buried in a large coat pocket, from which rustling papery sounds could be heard faintly.

‘Looks older than I expected,’ the second man said. He pulled a small folded square from his coat pocket and – as expected – unfolded it. It did not contain any writing or small lethal bits of metal. It did, however, contain some powder in various colors, covering a wide range from black to blue and the occasional bright green to white. The man pinched the powder between a thin finger and thumb and carefully inserted it between his lips. There was a muffled snort, and the sound of someone smacking his lips in satisfaction.

‘They said she was in her teens,’ the first man said. His voice was the sort that rumbled, possibly implying that he was the sort that preferred not to talk but to do…things. Something. Anything. Things which preferably did not involve talking.

‘You can’t trust them up there.’ The second man hastily wrapped up the powder before allowing himself to sneeze. ‘Like I said before, Skinny, those up there have no idea of the way things are done. Not that I mind, really, because they’re letting us run the show, technically.’

The first man shrugged and turned back to stare unblinkingly at the creek. His companion unfolded the paper and began enthusiastically pinching and sucking on the powder.

‘This is good,’ the second man said between sucking and licking his lips, ‘you should try some, Skinny.’

Skinny shrugged his thin shoulders and pointed in the direction of the creek. There was a short silence, broken only by the sounds of children’s laughter and the high clear voices of the girls.

There was a snap nearby. Leaves rustled among tree roots and sliding shadows; it was not the wind, because there was definitely none today.

The second man tapped Skinny’s shoulder urgently and jerked his head over his shoulder, indicating that someone was close enough in the vicinity to hear and see them. Skinny nodded and slunk deeper into the shadows, silent and watchful. The second man stood up, pocketing the paper of powder with utmost care, and pretended to stroll out of the wood, whistling cheerfully like any other gentleman out for a nice walk in the woods.

Nano 5

It was a small place, as Art speedily found out within a week of living with Christopher and Ellen’s family. The inhabitants in the village (population 100, covering a wide area without proper boundaries, since it was mostly flatlands and plains around here) were involved in agriculture, as the main economy of the plains had traditionally been the grains and fruits grown in the fields surrounding the village. There were very few roads running through or past the village to the Big City in the Far East, where the grains and fruits went on the carts of middlemen and merchants. The village was an isolated little world of its own, with its small town council and guilds. Within a week of living with the family, Art had been introduced to most of the youth and nearly all the families in the village. They, on their part, had taken warmly to him, and some kind parents had even been so generous as to encourage him to visit them and their young daughters in the evening. No one seemed to mind that Art was a stranger in the place, and that he knew practically nothing about the customs and traditions in their village.

Christopher – whom Art had taken to calling Mr. Lefroy out of courtesy, because he felt that calling the good man “Christopher” was too much of a trespass on his hospitality and kindness – had told him, time and again, that Art was welcomed to stay as long as he liked. He didn’t mind having the boy around, he said, and Art’s help in the fields was gladly received. Ellen was motherly towards him, treating Art like the son she never had. Art was secretly relieved that both Mr. Lefroy and Ellen did not question him too much on the mystery of his arrival in this place, because if they had, he would have packed up and left pronto. There were still too many things for him to figure out right now – the strange manners in the village, the customs and unspoken rules of the society, and even the food and clothing were strange to him.

The girls, Laurel and Vivien, had both taken to him in their own ways. Laurel often pestered him with all her “nonsense scientific babble”, as Ellen usually said whenever Laurel talked too much and too incomprehensibly, but Art didn’t mind this. There was something very young and yet oddly old about this seven-year-old girl, who had the pronounced cynicism of a forty-year-old woman who lived alone with cats. She had, however, a decided dislike of vegetables and anything “which could be good for her, but of course she doesn’t want it!” as Ellen told him vehemently after a messy episode in which Laurel had flung her food across the room in a tantrum. Vivien kept out of his way most of the time, she being a shy girl with a suspicious nature towards all strangers in general.

All in all, Art had to admit that he was settling in pretty well. Laurel confirmed the fact at the end of the week, while they were both out in the grain field harvesting the golden grains. (The harvest from the fields was usually just called “grains and fruits”. These had many varieties, naturally, but the people here were content to classify them by their color and texture and leave it at that. Scientific names were for those who wanted to show off their “higher learning”, or for those freaks who insisted that everything in existence had to have a name and group – not to mention genus and species – of its own, e.g. Laurel.)

‘You’re doing very well here,’ Laurel said, as she bent over to pull the heavy stalks of golden grain. ‘Even the young ladies in the village said they wouldn’t mind having you as a friend.’

‘Er – haha,’ Art said. He was on his knees, his trousers turning damp in the wet soil. ‘I guess that’s a good thing, but it’s not the young ladies I’m worried about...not exactly anyway.’

‘You’re worried that you’ve been staying too long with us,’ Laurel said. ‘I know. I’ve caught you looking worried, you see, especially when Mum and Papa mention that the harvest would be ruined because of the rain coming unexpectedly.’

‘Yeah, that.’ Art stretched his arms above his head and sighed. They had been here since the break of dawn, and it felt like it was eleven by now. He couldn’t know for sure, being rubbish with telling the time from shadows. Everyone in the village could – even the smallest toddler, even Vivien – knew just how to look at the shadows and tell the time right down to the quarter.

‘It’s only nine,’ Laurel said, plopping on the ground beside him. ‘In the first quarter of the hour. You feeling thirsty?’

‘Yeah, but we’ve still got about – oh say – ten more rows to go?’ Art flapped a hand at his face to cool himself. The air was still and heavy, baking slowly in the heat from the cloudless sky.

‘Fancy a drink?’

They both jumped up, surprised. It sounded like a man, someone with an odd accent not from these parts.

‘I’m here.’

They turned to look over the tall stalks. A man in a straw hat was waving to them along the row, while holding a bottle above his head. Laurel exchanged a look with Art, who raised his eyebrows and shrugged.

‘Saw you kids plucking the grains. You look tired.’ The man came up the row and took off his hat when he reached them. ‘I’ve some water with me. Want to share?’

‘It’s all right. Thanks for your offer, but we have our own water,’ Laurel replied primly. ‘Are you lost? These are my father’s fields.’

‘Are they?’ The man laughed sheepishly. ‘Oh dearie me, I was supposed to visit someone in the village. I must have lost my way. Can you point out the directions for me, little girl?’

Laurel threw him – in all honesty – a really dirty look. The girl could have insulted you just by looking if she wanted to, as Art had found out on his first day. Laurel tossed her head sharply – a sure sign that she was annoyed and was about to launch into a long, wordy insult, as Art also came to know in the preceding days – but he stopped her in time by tugging lightly on the end of her plait. Laurel drew in a deep breath and turned her back on the man.

‘I’ll take you to the village, if you like. I’m sure someone will be glad to help you find your friend, sir,’ Art said politely.

‘That – that would be nice, young man,’ the man said. He blinked rapidly and wiped the perspiration from his forehead. ‘Nice place you have here though. Your father must be pretty well off.’

‘He is,’ Art said. He pushed aside the stalks gently, so as not to damage them, and picked up the basket of harvested grains. Laurel’s lay untouched on the ground, but it held more stalks than his. Art turned to look at the girl, who was resolutely keeping her back to both of them. ‘I’ll be off now, Laurel. Go find your dad or mum, will you? It’s not safe for you out here alone.’

Laurel replied with a shrug which clearly indicated her disapproval. Art turned to the man and smiled. ‘If you would follow me, sir.’

‘Your sister’s a feisty little young lady eh?’ the man remarked as they left the fields.

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Art said. He stopped by the house and dropped the basket on the kitchen floor. ‘She’s not a bad sort though.’

‘I warrant,’ the man said, chuckling nervously. ‘This place gives me the creeps, to tell the truth. Too much empty space.’

‘I like it here.’ Art pointed down the road leading from the fields to the village. ‘See this road? It’s one of the main roads around here, and you can follow this road for days and weeks and maybe even months, because it’ll lead you all the way to the Big City. People who visit these parts often think that this road is just another dirt road like any other – you know, those that lead you to nowhere – but this one leads all the way to the Big City.’

‘You mean the city of Elysia,’ the man said. ‘Yeah, that’s the biggest city in the world, I reckon.’

‘Have you been there?’

‘Never,’ the man replied cheerfully. ‘I’ve heard so many stories of it though, because I travel so much. I wouldn’t mind visiting it once in my life. It’s dangerous, I heard, but it’s also very…exciting.’

‘I wouldn’t mind seeing the place myself,’ Art said. ‘Oh here we are.’

The man came to a stop outside the village, which was really nothing more than small houses clustered together without large fields in between. Streets were short here – the longest ran from the mayor’s house to the bakery, with only five medium-sized fields between the houses. Carts were few here, as most villagers usually depended on middlemen to bring their grains and fields to the cities to be sold. Art waited for the man to speak, sensing his hesitancy.

‘Do you know Mr. Bunbury? He’s my brother-in-law, keeps a small inn…’

‘Yeah, I know him. I’ll show you the place; it’s not far from here.’ Art did not move, as the man remained rooted to the spot. The man’s knuckles were white as he clutched at his straw hat.

‘Are you all right, sir?’

‘I’m fine.’ The man wiped more perspiration from his face. ‘I’m going to tell Mr. Bunbury that I want to marry his sister.’

‘I see. Well if you would follow me sir, I can bring you to him immediately.’

‘Not – not – that I don’t want to see him, but Bunbury’s threatened to cut off my – my – wossname – if I ever talked to his sister again.’ The man was actually trembling where he stood.

‘Er. Well. It would be better if he knew that you intend to marry his sister, maybe you could both work out an agreement – ‘

‘But I’m already married to his sister!’

Art was almost tempted to say, ‘So?’ and run off. This was no business of his. He knew Mr. Bunbury, he liked him, and Mr. Bunbury had told him that he was welcome to work in the inn if ever Art wanted extra pocket money. The man clutched at his arm, shaking worse than ever.

‘Sir, sir, I can show you the place, but I really don’t think I can help you with your problem.’ Art pulled his arm out of the man’s tight grip and stepped back hastily.

‘Need any help, gentlemen?’

There was another man behind them, an elderly gentleman in a long coat, despite the hot day. The first man grabbed his arm and began gabbling about his predicament, nearly weeping in his terror. The elderly man listened attentively, and nodded after a pause for thought.

‘I’ll do what I can,’ he said. ‘I’m going to the inn myself.’ He turned to look at Art, who stared back wordlessly. ‘Thank you for your help, young man.’

Art nodded stupidly and shrugged. The older man had an extraordinary gaze, intense and piercing. Those eyes were worse than Laurel’s, and he had thought that Laurel was the worst gazer he had met. Those eyes! Like gimlets! He waited for the two men to enter the village, and then sprinted home across the fields.

Nano 4

‘You’ll be in the mermaid tank at three today, I’m afraid,’ Katya said, consulting a long list of names and the schedule of performances for the day. She patted Iris on the shoulder in mock sympathy. ‘Mind you don’t lose the shells.’

Iris shrugged, bad-tempered, and headed out of the crowded field of tents, into the adjoining one where men were already busy setting up the tanks and sets. It was soon after sunrise, in the cool hour before the sun had properly risen, and the last chill of the previous night lingered in the fields. The smell of burnt porridge mingled with the scent of wet grass and washing.

‘I’m helping out with the mermaid performance today,’ someone said shyly from behind. Iris turned, shrugged, and looked back in front.

‘Thank you,’ she said curtly.

The boy cringed behind her, and stepped back. She felt the slightest twinge of guilt, but pushed it away in her irritation. Jonas was only Jonas after all; she didn’t have to feel guilty about not liking him. Everyone knew she didn’t like him, even he knew she didn’t like him, but everyone, including Iris, knew that he was madly in love with her. She couldn’t blame him for falling for her, much as he couldn’t blame her for not liking him. It worked that way, always did, and she was glad with the arrangement. She reckoned that he did too, though she occasionally wondered – when she was feeling annoyed with herself – whether she was a bit too hard on him.

The performance that afternoon went smoothly, mostly watched by screaming children and their families. Iris had nothing to complain about – the water wasn’t too cold, the weather was fine, nothing had snagged painfully in her long hair, the stupid shells didn’t fall off, and Jonas avoided her all afternoon…

‘Here’s the girl eh?’ A large oily hand gripped her shoulder. She pushed it off roughly and turned to face the man. He grinned at her, showing exceptionally neat white teeth.

‘May I help you, sir?’ Mum had told her to be polite, always polite, to whoever spoke to her. She took several steps back all the same, putting as much distance as she could from the man without treading on a little kid.

‘Saw you in the tank.’ The man jerked his head to the now empty tank, his smile going wider. ‘Lovely performance it was.’

‘Thank you.’ She pushed her away through the crowd, away from the man. She could feel his eyes on her, right up to the point where she ducked into the safety of a tent.

‘Get over it,’ she told herself angrily. The weather had changed towards evening, with heavy clouds and a rising wind forecasting a storm. It was getting colder, but she was reluctant to leave the tent for the moment and head back to hers. The man could be out there, waiting for her –

‘Iris?’

She whirled around, relief and embarrassment speedily replacing her anxiety. It was Jonas…so that would mean that she had taken refuge in his tent on accident. Between the devil and the deep blue sea, she thought wryly.

Jonas stared at her, uncertain and shy. She pretended to look out the window, feeling her face grow uncharacteristically warm. It was one of those Awkward Moments again, which usually didn’t happen between her and Jonas. It had never happened before, in fact.

‘Do you need a towel?’ he asked uncertainly. ‘I could – I have a few – I could lend you – ‘

‘Thanks.’ Iris kept her eyes on the window. ‘I’ll be leaving soon.’

‘It’s okay,’ Jonas said. ‘Here.’ He handed her a towel, keeping his eyes on her feet. ‘It’s cold out there. You can – er – stay here until you get warm – or – or something.’

‘Thank you.’ She felt extremely stupid. What would he think of her now? Here she was in his tent, alone, and still in her stupid mermaid costume. And she hadn’t even bothered to cover herself up against the cold. What would he think?

‘Is everything okay?’

‘What?’ She buried her face in the towel, still too embarrassed to look at him. ‘Yeah, it is.’

‘I saw this guy talking to you.’ Jonas shuffled from foot to foot, head down. ‘You didn’t look too happy, and he was – I don’t know – he looked like he didn’t mean any good.’

‘Yeah,’ Iris said, nodding. ‘I came here…because I thought he was watching me…’

‘I see.’ He cleared his throat and coughed lightly.

‘I think I’d better get back,’ she muttered. ‘My parents will be worried, and it’s getting dark. Erm, thanks for the towel.’ She looked up at then, finally, and spoke to the top of his head. ‘I promise I’ll bring this back to you cleaned and dried.’

‘Well,’ he said now, glancing up shyly, ‘I can walk you back if you like.’

Iris felt her face go warm again. ‘Oh that wouldn’t be necessary – ‘

‘Please, I don’t mind. You said there was that man – ‘

‘I’m sure he’s gone by now, there’s so many people about anyway –‘

‘Let me, really, I don’t mind – ‘

‘Thank you, Jonas, you’re being really kind, but I don’t think – ‘

‘I’m worried that he’ll do something,’ he mumbled, dropping his gaze. ‘I don’t have anything to do now, and it’s getting dark, and I don’t mind walking with you back to your tent.’

Iris leaned her head against the window and wished that she could bang her head against the glass, if only it could end this Awkward Moment and let it be forgotten for eternity. Jonas waited behind her, clenching and unclenching his toes out of nervousness.

‘Thank you,’ she said.

Jonas followed her out of the tent, into the smoky noisy twilight of the chill evening. Most of the day’s spectators had left by then, and the tanks and sets were being packed away. Iris kept her head down most of the way, very aware of the boy behind her. Just before they reached the gate leading into the next field and to her tent, however, she stopped.

‘I’m sorry for being such an arse to you,’ she said, looking Jonas in the eye. The boy ducked his head, blushing pink to bright red. She coughed, just to relieve the awkwardness, and continued. ‘Yes I have been a real arse…and I’m sorry for – for – oh I don’t know – for – aww man, this is awkward – is it as awkward for me as it is for you?’ she finished lamely.

Jonas nodded and grinned hugely. Even his ears were turning red.

Iris burst out laughing then. Jonas’s head came up, and he started giggling too. Several circus people passing by stared at them curiously, a few with knowing smiles. Iris leaned weakly against the gate, feeling her body go all jelly-like with mirth and relief.

‘Ye gawds,’ she gasped between giggles, ‘that was funny. I didn’t think that it would be so – so – awkward – ‘

‘Me too,’ Jonas said, clutching his tummy helplessly, ‘oh shit.’

‘That’s the first time I’ve heard you say shit!’ Iris yelled, banging her fist on the gate. ‘Oh that is too funny, way too funny…’

‘What’s wrong with that?’ Jonas looked completely bewildered, but a moment later he was on the ground, still giggling like a lunatic.

‘Iris?’

Katya loomed over them, as menacing as the grey clouds above. Iris pulled herself up, feeling that her knees were too shaky to support her weight now. Jonas rolled over and sat up, wiping grass and tears from his face. The older girl tossed her hair and sighed.

‘Aren’t you a fast worker, Iris?’ Katya turned to look at Jonas, who shriveled under the taunting stare. ‘Rolling round in fields now?’

‘Eff off, Katya,’ Iris snapped, marching over to her.

‘Tch.’ Katya crooked a finger and waggled it meaningfully. ‘You’d better be careful, Iris. A tree that bears fruit too early – ‘

‘Is a wormy and very naughty tree,’ Jonas cut in. ‘Yeah yeah, whatever. Now get lost and don’t bother us, aight?’

Iris stuck her tongue out at the other girl. Katya laughed – her laugh was somewhat of a trademark of hers, being oddly sweet and ironic all at once – and walked off, long red hair trailing artistically to her waist.

‘That was brilliant!’ Iris clapped and beamed. ‘Awesome, Jonas!’

‘It was nothing,’ he mumbled, blushing yet again. ‘Come on, I’d better take you back. My mum will be looking for me now.’

‘Mine too.’ Iris skipped through the gate, all thoughts of the man now vanishing into happy oblivion. ‘Thank you!’

Nano 3

‘I still think you look funny.’ Laurel screwed up her eyes and scrutinized Art suspiciously. ‘Your arms are too skinny.’

‘Yeah well, you’re an irritating little girl,’ he said, smiling weakly. ‘Don’t you have to go to school or something?’

‘It’s harvest. We don’t go to school then. Everybody knows that,’ Laurel said, smirking. ‘Do you have subnormal intelligence?’

‘No Laurel.’ Art stood up, brushing earth and dead grass off his trousers. ‘I happen to have perfectly normal intelligence, thank you, and in addition, I have normal social skills too, unlike some people around here.’

‘Are you talking about me?’ Laurel asked solemnly. ‘I want to check that you meant me. Mistakes are easily made when words are misinterpreted, you know.’

‘Oh – for – shut up!’ Art turned to face the girl, who gazed back with calm gravity. ‘What do you want to know anyway? I’m here, I’m staying, so leave me alone!’

‘I suppose it’s because I have some theories about you.’ Laurel tilted her head at an angle, her prim little plaits falling past her shoulders just so, the perfect picture of a perfect little girl. ‘You know, I have this...hunch...that you aren’t from here.’

‘Of course I’m not from here,’ he snapped. ‘I don’t know this place, like duh.’

‘No, what I meant was, I think that you aren’t from this world at all.’

He bit his lip painfully and dropped back onto the ground beside the girl. ‘What do you mean, not from this world?’

‘I’ve been reading,’ Laurel said, smoothing her skirt over scabby knees. ‘And there have been some theories – or you can call them hypotheses – that worlds other than the one we know do exist, but outside our time and space. I suppose you can call these places alternate universes, but the term would be grossly inaccurate, strictly speaking.’

‘So? What’s that got to do with me?’

‘You see,’ Laurel went on, in the patient tone usually adopted by mothers when they are vainly trying to explain to screaming brats that a dropped ice-cream cone isn’t the end of the world, ‘there have also been theories that it is possible for us – for anyone – to travel between these worlds. They exist side by side, but not, as I have said, sharing the same space and time with each other. There have been some theorists who said...’

‘Yeah?’

‘They have even said that these worlds might have been caused by magic,’ the girl whispered. ‘Can you believe anything so utterly ridiculous? Magic? I mean, it has been proven that an unknown force or energy exists, something we call thaumic energy, but these theorists are beginnning to talk of calling it magic, how unbelievable – ‘

‘Wait wait, stop. Hold it there. Are you telling me that alternate worlds actually exist?’

‘I just said there were theories,’ Laurel said, frowning. ‘But what I still don’t get is – ‘

‘Right, right, let’s leave whatever the stupid theorists said for the moment. Has anyone proven the existence of these worlds? How can we know they’re there?’

‘Well, see, it all started when theorists began noticing fluctuations in energy within strictly controlled experiments. I mean, when you light a bulb using a single cell, you expect the bulb to just light up, right? But five times out of ten, the bulb would explode whenever the theorists did the experiment, or the light would come out blue, or red, or any colour of the rainbow even. So the theorists started investigating, obviously, and identified a new energy which existed all around us. The energy is weak in its natural state, because you would have noticed, lightbulbs don’t explode for no reason, right? So anyway, they decided to name this energy “thaumic energy”, but they still have no idea what it does, or what we can use it for. They think, though, that the effects of this energy can only be observed when there are no other energies present to interfere, or not too much anyway.’ Laurel drew a deep happy breath and sighed. ‘Fascinating, isn’t it?’

‘Er. I was talking about alternate worlds, not thaumic energy,’ Art pointed out. ‘But never mind, do go on. I’ve never heard of thaumic energy before.’

‘It’s just been recently discovered, and only the scientific and theoretical communities pay any attention to it,’ Laurel said smugly. ‘I’ve been following developments regularly.’

‘Yeah yeah,’ Art said, amused. The girl was only seven, granted, and she had rubbish social skills, but at least she wasn’t whiny or deliberately cutesy.

‘Well,’ Laurel continued, hooking her hands around a knee, ‘some theorists – not all, because there’s no concrete proof, or even anything to back up the hypothesis – think that thaumic energy can be manipulated and strengthened in some way to create whole new worlds. Someone claims to have done that already; he said that he created a miniature universe in its most basic form within a beaker, but no one else has seen it yet. He’s going to publish a report soon, but I wouldn’t bet on it convincing anyone for the moment. Most scientists still stick to the old traditional facts anyway, and nearly all the theorists are either slightly insane or poor misunderstood geniuses nobody cares to listen to.’

‘Oh my,’ Art said. He was slightly staggered with the facts Laurel had spouted effortlessly. One: this girl was smart in a scary way. Two: why did the idea of alternate worlds set off something odd in him? There was a nagging feeling in his mind somewhere, like the persistent thought of a scab that was itching to be scratched. But he didn’t know what it was.

‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ Laurel sounded breathless, probably with awe and sheer delight. ‘I’ve thought about the possibilities if alternate worlds were to exist, and it positively takes my breath away.’

‘I can see it does.’ Art scratched his nose, puzzled. ‘But isn’t it odd, that this energy is only noticed now? Didn’t theorists in the past notice anything?’

‘They did, but science wasn’t very developed then, you see,’ Laurel replied. ‘Theorists then weren’t called theorists – I think they mostly went by alchemists or philosophers. Some were even called madmen.’ She giggled at the thought. Art rolled his eyes and grinned.

It began to rain then, big fat drops pelting the roof and bare earth. Laurel leapt up immediately and dashed into the house screaming, ‘I thought the monsoon was over! Mum! Mummeeeee!’

Art stood for a while in the rain, wide-eyed over the facts he had just heard. ‘Alternate worlds. Wow. Can you imagine that?’

Laurel came galloping out of the house with Ellen behind her. ‘Get out of the rain, you idiot!’ Laurel shrieked. Art followed the two of them out into the fields, with empty baskets banging against their backs to save what they could out there.

He couldn’t be from an alternate world. It was...impossible. But saying it was impossible didn’t mean that it was.

Nano 2

‘If I’ve told you before – ‘

‘It’s not fair that I have to do double shifts every Tuesday,’ the girl cut in, crossing her arms in annoyance. ‘I mean, there’s the misery of having to wear that ridiculous suit, don’t you get it?’

The young woman stopped in her tracks and whirled around so quickly that her long red plaits slapped the girl’s face. ‘D’you think I’m happy doing this too, huh? You’re not the only one who’s got to suffer around here! I do too! So do the other girls! So suck it up and just stand it!’

‘Yeah, but at least you’re just dealing with the seals,’ the girl said. ‘I have to climb into that tank, with everyone ogling, especially the men.’

‘That’s show business, darling,’ the young woman snapped. ‘No business like show business, as the saying goes. Not that you have a choice anyway. You were born into it.’

‘Yes, exactly!’ The girl threw up her arms dramatically, skinny pale limbs sending droplets of water in all directions. ‘I didn’t have a choice, so is that fair? I mean, most kids dream of running away to join the circus, but I dream of running away to get away from the circus!’

‘Tough luck, kiddo,’ the young woman said. ‘Suck it up and bear it like the rest, Iris. You won’t get anywhere with complaining all the time. Besides, your life is here, your family is here and your future is here. So quit whining already.’

‘But I demand a change!’ Iris shrieked. The young woman had already left her by then. She kicked the grass in frustration, sending grass clippings and dried leaves into the chilly air.

The circus was closed for the day, as it was nearing dusk and people were beginning to leave for their homes. Men and boys were hosing down the various tanks and cages in the other part of the field, and girls were busily combing and dressing each other’s hair among the tents. Iris stormed off to the gate leading into the next field, where several women had gathered to cook the day’s meal and prepare the younger ones for bed.

‘Not a good day?’ someone asked, coming out of the nearest tent to walk beside her. Iris threw the boy an angry look and marched off without a word.

‘There’s the girl,’ a lady said as Iris stopped by the cooking circle. The lady detached herself from the group and came towards her, stirring something in a bowl. ‘Why haven’t you changed? You’ll catch cold. Hurry up, we’re closing up early tonight.’

‘Yes Mother.’ Iris stalked off towards a tent furthest from the circle, seething inwardly. This was no time to throw a tantrum, not in front of the other mothers, who would surely talk about it for weeks afterward – but she was so damn angry, and it was so unfair that she couldn’t see a way out of this place – and if that red-haired witch of Katya won’t shut up and stop being so smug –

She blinked and stared.

A strange lady was sitting in her room, on her bed. A cigarette trailing smoke in the stuffy air hung from the lady’s fingertips. Dark red lips parted into a smile as Iris continued staring at the stranger before her.

‘Good evening, Iris.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘Why, you mean. I’ll tell you soon enough. Have a seat.’ She pointed the cigarette to the one stool in Iris’s room. The cheek the lady had – it was her stool, her room.

‘Okay. Why are you here? I warn you, if you mean any – ‘

‘Please let me speak first.’ The dark red of the lips was almost black in the dim room. The lady leaned back on the pile of pillows, eyes narrowed and suspicious. Iris drew the stool up to the bed and sat down.

‘You’re a water circus performer eh?’ the lady asked. She stuck the cigarette between her lips and dug a hand into her long black trousers. A sheaf of papers emerged from a cleverly concealed pocket at her hip, and she began reading from them. ‘Iris Langdon. Iris’s Amazing Aquatic Acrobatics and Wonders. Father, Harry Langdon, is the circus master. Iris was named according to the family custom, which states that the eldest girl in the Langdon clan should be named Iris for each generation. Iris is currently employed in water acrobatics performances. Performs in the mermaid tank on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays. Performs in the aquatic acrobatics on other days of the week. Dislikes wet suits and the stupid clamshells-and-fishtail costume required to be worn during the mermaid performance. Dislikes Katya and Jonas. Hopes to run away from the circus soon because nobody understands her. Thinks that Lawrence – ‘

‘That’s enough,’ Iris interrupted hotly. ‘Where did you get all the information from? Are you a spy? What do you want then? I’ve done nothing wrong – I’m still a minor, in case you’re wondering. Maybe I should scream for help now, if you don’t get out soon, thank you.’

‘What a spitfire,’ the lady said in amusement. ‘Really. They told me you were hot-tempered, but I didn’t expect this...passionate fury, not after I read the profile they gave me.’

‘Who are they?’ Iris demanded. ‘Tell me.’

The lady waved a hand, sending smoke trails around the room. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s part of my work, dear. Now, to confirm – are you Iris Langdon, as per the details I have just read out to you?’

‘Yes. But before you ask me more questions, I want to know how you know so much about me.’

‘Really, I can’t tell you.’ The lady took a long drag on the cigarette, exhaling the smoke in perfect rings. Iris glared at the rings contemptuously and waited.

‘Look,’ the lady said, her voice gaining an impatient edge, ‘I can’t tell you. To tell you would mean that I would lose my job, besides losing my life as well. Do you get me? Now listen, little girl. I need to get on with my other tasks as well, so don’t make this difficult for me. You wouldn’t like what I could do to you.’

‘Okay. Go on,’ Iris said, crossing her arms for the second time that evening.

‘There’s someone coming to meet you soon. I can’t tell you now who or what he or she may be, but someone would be coming to meet you, and possibly take you away too. I’m not sure what happens after you meet this person – it’s all up to you after that. Do you understand me?’

‘Meet me?’ Iris rubbed her nose thoughtfully. ‘I meet new people every day. What’s so different with this person?’

‘You’ll see. You’ll know when you meet him or her. But right now, all I can tell you is this: Listen to whatever this person will tell you. Listen carefully, because if you miss your chance then, you won’t get another in the future.’

‘Do you have – can you tell me any signs that I should look out for? Hints, or clues maybe? I need to know more.’

‘No, I can’t.’ The lady shook her head regretfully, but her eyes seemed to hint at something different, as though she would like to tell more, but couldn’t.

‘Iris!’ Iris jumped up and went to the window. The sun had set, and lamps were being lit outside the tents even as she searched for her mother. There she was, at the entrance of the tent now, with an unlit lamp in her hand. Iris turned to speak to the stranger, to ask her to leave...

There was no one else in the room besides her. The faintest smell of cigarette smoke remained in the room, the ghost of a scent...the only indication that the lady had been here, that she had actually talked to her...but it dispersed into the cool night air as soon Iris opened the window.