Mary Sisson, Author

The Master of Ceremonies sample

Caroline Lys Alabain seems to be on top of the world. Fashionable, smart, and well-positioned socially, she can straddle the world of the high Lys and the middle class–which she does ably as the youthful head of Alabain’s Emporium, founded by her father and famed throughout the Kingdom of Ouaricon for its exotic wares.

But itinerant circus performer Tobiath—oh, don’t ask his last name—knows something is amiss. Caroline’s sadness is as obvious to him as her beauty is compelling. The master of ceremonies for the Eastlander Family Circus, Tobiath makes a path from Caroline’s courtyard to her bed—and her heart.

Performance and reality don’t always coincide, however, and passion, no matter how intense, can’t always be trusted. Tobiath and his family have secrets that dwarf Caroline’s own, while Caroline’s hold on her family’s famous business is far more tenuous than she realizes. Their lives are not truly their own, and envy and violence threaten their existence. Can their young love survive?

Chapter One

Caroline’s 19th birthday party was going well, all things considered.

Caroline knew she should just relax and enjoy it—after all, it was her party. But she was her mother’s daughter, so she could never really turn off the part of her brain that had to evaluate the success of any large social gathering.

That evaluation had to happen from two perspectives, of course. First, she had to evaluate from her own perspective as a hostess interested in the well-being and enjoyment of her friends and guests. Second, she had to evaluate from the perspective of the various bitter-looking chaperones who were obligated to accompany their younger charges. Their only enjoyment of the event would come when they viciously gossiped about it later.

If Caroline had believed that this party was simply for her own enjoyment, she would have had a much smaller gathering. She certainly preferred the sort of event where her high Lys friends could leave their chaperones at home, and everyone didn’t have to worry about who had mingled with whom.

At least the Lys in Caroline’s own name meant that she could make her parties open to everyone—but parties were never for one’s own enjoyment.

One thing that wasn’t hampering Caroline’s own enjoyment of the evening was the absence of Owen Overton, her soon-to-be fiancé. He had had to leave three days earlier on a trading journey, and he was the one casualty of the party having been delayed for a week.

Caroline tried very hard to ignore how much that did not upset her. Passion feels good, her mother used to say, but a marriage is about joining two lives together. If the marriage doesn’t make sense from a practical standpoint, even the hottest passion will cool surprisingly quickly.

Marrying Owen definitely made sense from a practical standpoint. Their fathers had both founded stores in Salemi that sold goods from all over the Kingdom of Ouaricon and the Known Lands. Joining the two families would help both their businesses: Caroline would bring her mother’s Lys and social connections, while Owen would bring the attention and vigor that had so sadly leaked out of her father.

And while Owen was several years older than Caroline, he was not old nor by any means ugly.

That was, unfortunately, the extent of the positives Caroline could bring to mind regarding her expected marriage.

She looked over at her father. He hadn’t said anything to her at all today, at no point in the evening had he looked even remotely happy, and he was now planted glumly in his chair as the servants cleared and removed the tables around him.

At least he had come. Caroline supposed that should content her, these days.

The servants were rearranging the space so that the guests could watch the reason the party had been delayed for a week. A large folding screen had been moved into the room earlier in the evening, covering one door. During dinner, there had clearly been some activity behind the screen, and now the chairs were being arranged to face it.

Once that was finished, Caroline took a seat in the front row—the place of honor went to the birthday girl, no matter how she felt about it.

“What are we going to watch?” asked Innogene, slipping into a chair next to her.

“A circus. That’s all I know,” Caroline said. “They’re new to Ouaricon, or at least new to Salemi.”

Innogene shrugged. Like Caroline, Innogene was a native of Salemi, the capital city of the Kingdom of Ouaricon, and tended to assume that nothing of interest ever happened outside of it.

“Some of father’s traders saw their show in . . . Trout Creek, maybe?” Caroline continued. “One of those little hamlets up in the Blue Mountains. And they loved it. They said it was absolutely amazing.”

Her friend smiled merrily at her.

“What?” Caroline couldn’t help but laugh. “We like new and interesting things.”

“Alabain’s Em-po-reeeee-um, exotic luxuries for youuuuuu,” Innogene sang, imitating the criers they had in front of the flagship store.

“You know it!” Caroline said, firmly.

She looked around—everyone was seated, so the show would presumably begin soon. She was not surprised when a tall man in a black suit and a top hat popped out from behind the screen. He had a black beard and mustache, much like her not-quite-fiancé, and he looked to be about the same age.

“Ladies and gentleman,” he said in a booming voice, “We are the Eastlander Family Circus!”

He took off his hat and leapt into the air, doing a somersault without touching the ground and landing with a large bouquet of flowers in his hand.

He looked at Caroline—he was handsome, wasn’t he?—and said, “I believe these are for you.”

Caroline put out her hands to take the flowers, but instead of walking to her, the master of ceremonies spun around, and she was suddenly faced with no flowers at all. Instead, three colorful little parakeets walked from his hand to hers.

Caroline burst out laughing, delighted. She worried that the sudden noise would alarm the parakeets, but they remained perfectly calm. Caroline looked up at the man, astonished. He said, “Whoops!” like the appearance of the birds had been some kind of mistake.

“Is that OK?” he asked her, quietly.

Caroline nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by nostalgia. She had missed birds, their bright colors and their chirpy cheer. Her father used to have dozens of them in the aviary, back when he cared about things. Now there was just Munro, the neglected parrot.

She heard a faint whistle, and as one, the parakeets flew off her hands, went behind the screen, and were gone. Part of her wanted to cry.

The master of ceremonies had moved away as well, toward the screen. “Now I know what you’re thinking.” He switched to a silly, outraged voice. “‘Sir, you are one person! You are not a family!’ Well, please meet my sister!”

A large silver ring suddenly flew over from behind the screen, coming down behind the man’s head. Without even looking, he caught it in his hand. He held the ring in front of his face, giving it a concerned look as though he had no idea where it had come from. He shrugged and threw it back.

Two, and then three rings flew over the screen to replace it. The master of ceremonies started juggling the rings with the person behind the screen. They worked seamlessly, even though they couldn’t see each other.

“Are you coming out, sister?” he asked.

“Tell them more!” a woman shouted from behind the screen.

“Ah, yes,” said the master of ceremonies, continuing his half of the two-person juggle. As he talked, the rings were replaced by other objects—balls, pins, and eventually what looked like plates and crockery. “My sister and I are from the Eastlands, over the Blue Mountains and past the High Desert. This is our first visit to the lovely Kingdom of Ouaricon, and our very first time performing in Salemi, which I must say does live up to its fame as a gem in the Known Lands. We thank the Lys Alabain family for their generosity in inviting us here to perform for you, and of course we join you in wishing Caroline Lys Alabain a very happy birthday indeed.”

Caroline smiled, while Innogene choked back a giggle. Someone had prepped the master of ceremonies well—he couldn’t have hit the Alabain’s Emporium branding harder if he had pointed out to the guests that all the beautiful fixtures at the party were currently available to purchase at each of its three convenient Salemi locations.

Actually. . . . But Caroline dismissed the thought—there wasn’t an unobtrusive way for her to tell the master of ceremonies to mention the elaborate oil lamps hanging on the walls and standing on the tables. We will make safety lamps fashionable, she assured herself.

“But wherever in the Eastlands are we from?” the woman’s voice asked.

“Sister, why don’t you show them yourself?”

The woman who popped out from behind the screen looked to be in her mid-twenties. Caroline thought that she and the master of ceremonies could be actual siblings: They both had dark hair; the woman’s was long, curly, and tied up in a bun, presumably to keep it out of the way while she juggled. She was shorter than the master of ceremonies, though, and while he was lean, she was clearly quite voluptuous even in her modest dress.

Her physique was not what made the party gasp, however.

The woman had an enormous purple birthmark across her entire face. Her skin was fair—far lighter than the ringleader’s—and the dark mark stood out like a beacon.

Caroline glanced over to Innogene to see if she would respond. Innogene didn’t even flinch, much less touch the large, black mole on her cheek.

“So where in the Eastlands are we from?” the master of ceremonies asked, as he tossed the juggling items back over the screen.

“From here!” said the woman, pointing at her face.

Everyone started to ah and laugh, confusing Caroline. She looked again at the woman’s face, and her mouth dropped open.

The birthmark, which spread across the upper half of the woman’s face, was in the shape of the Known Lands!

“Wait, sister!” exclaimed the master of ceremonies, feigning the genuine surprise that had grasped Caroline. “You have a map on your face!” He looked at it more closely. “It’s a map of the Known Lands!”

“I know!”the woman replied with a smile.

“Well, surely, that’s a trick,” the master of ceremonies said. “Like this!” He snapped his fingers, and a large plume of smoke rolled off them.

“You mean like this?” the woman replied, throwing up both hands and making a small fireball appear between them.

“Fire safety,” muttered Innogene.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Caroline murmured back.

The two performers proceeded to continue their “argument,” each trying to outdo the other with various tricks and sleights of hand. Caroline was no expert, but these two seemed to her to be very good indeed. The brother (or “brother”) was the more acrobatic of the two, but the sister (or “sister”) had a way of making things appear and disappear that was quite convincing.

The sister eventually went into the audience. She did the occasional sleight-of-hand trick, but mainly she allowed people to inspect and even attempt to remove her birthmark. Which they could not.

“So it’s real?” the master of ceremony gasped in faux shock as his sister finally returned to the front of the room.

“Of course!” the sister replied.

“But, sister, where did you get such an unusual birthmark?”

“From our ma, the Bearded Lady!”

“Isn’t that where I got this beard?” asked the ringmaster.

“I believe it is!” said the sister.

“I give my all to my children,” said—well, that was clearly the Bearded Lady, with a lush dark-brown beard and mustache, stepping out from behind the screen.

She didn’t step out alone—she had a monkey on her shoulder, the three parakeets were sitting on her head, and a little black dog was walking on two legs beside her. They were all followed by a larger, shaggier, and frankly disreputable-looking yellow dog, who was walking on a large ball.

“This is a great show,” said Innogene.

Caroline nodded.

The Bearded Lady certainly could have been the mother of the master of ceremonies, although she looked a bit young for it. She was shorter than him by a mile, but their features and overall coloring were very similar—far more so than the woman with the map on her face, who now looked to not be in the family.

Like her, the Bearded Lady went into the audience so that people could see whether or not her beard was real. It apparently was. But both women were not there simply to be gawped at. The Bearded Lady did an impressive act with her animals, who did all kinds of synchronized tricks. For her finale, she had the dogs jump over each other as they ran, and then she added the monkey into the mix, having it jump from dog to dog as they continued to jump over each other.

And after a word from the master of ceremonies, she sent the parakeets to land on Caroline, allowing her to hold them again.

Caroline, grinning, looked over her shoulder at her father, but he was slumped in his chair in the back. He wasn’t even looking at her avian companions.

Caroline turned her face away before the irritation that stabbed through her could show. The thoughts came unbidden, anyway: How could he not be pleased? Why can’t he ever be happy anymore?

She focused her attention on the show in front of her instead. It was the sort of thing that would delight anyone who had not entirely lost his capacity for joy, Father.

The master of ceremonies and the woman with the map on her face began juggling again, and this time the animals were part of the act—both dogs and even the monkey caught and threw balls, and then the parakeets flew through the rings as the two threw them back and forth.

Eventually the Bearded Lady took the animals behind the screen as the other two continued to juggle.

“Well, Ma,” said the master of ceremonies after the Bearded Lady reappeared alone, “are those all the animals you have to show these fine people?”

“They are not,” she said sharply. Her children abruptly stopped their juggling.

“What other animal do you have?” the ringmaster asked. The woman with the map on her face ducked behind the screen.

“I have the most dangerous, most exotic animal of all,” the Bearded Lady said. “From the darkest jungles of the Southlands comes the rarest and most beautiful creature for you to see tonight. She is: the Serpent Goddess.”

The younger woman wheeled in a tall, thin vessel made of wood, with a lid. She handed a long, strange wind instrument that looked a bit like an oboe to the Bearded Lady.

The Bearded Lady looked like she was gathering her nerve, while the younger two, standing behind the container, just looked nervous. After a deep breath, the Bearded Lady nodded at the younger woman, who snatched the lid off the vessel and quickly backed away.

The Bearded Lady began to play the woodwind, which made a harsh and discordant sound.

Something began to slide out of the narrow neck of the container. It was green, shiny, and long, a bit wider at the end. . . .

It was a hand.

The hand was followed by an arm, then the shoulder and head of a glittering green woman, bending at unbelievable angles as she slithered out of the too-narrow neck of a vessel that already seemed far too small to fit a human body.

Caroline goggled, and then looked at the platform the container had been wheeled out on. It was flat—no room for a hidden compartment.

“She must be a halfie,” muttered Innogene.

“Maybe,” said Caroline. “Or she’s just really good.”

The contortionist proceeded to do a routine on a small table that the master of ceremonies had brought out. She was, in a word, amazing, smoothly moving from one impossible position into another. She stood, and with her legs straight, bent backward until the back of her head touched the back of her knees—all with no more apparent effort than a normally flexible person would expend bending forward. She did another backbend, knees bent this time, and put her chest on the tabletop, putting her arms forward between her feet, and then lifting one foot and then the other until they were both resting on her shoulder blades. She moved into a sitting position with her knees pointing upward, and put her head and then her shoulders under one knee and then the other. It was mind-blowing.

The master of ceremonies had brought out a couple of shakers along with the table, and he played them to accompany the act while the mother played her woodwind . . . and, Caroline realized, the woman with a map on her face keened in a high soprano. The music and the routine were beautiful and weird and absolutely fascinating, with the woman gliding into and out of positions in a manner that was truly snakelike.

Her routine at an end, the Serpent Goddess stood on the table and bowed. Then she flipped off the table, took the hands of the rest of her “family,” and they all bowed together.

“Once again, we thank the Lys Alabain family for inviting us to premiere in Salemi!” boomed the master of ceremonies. “We are the Eastlander Family Circus!”

“Oh, wow,” said Innogene. “These guys are amazing.”

“Super amazing?” asked Caroline, slyly. She was making a reference to some of the over-the-top ways they used to praise things back when they were younger.

Innogene grinned, understanding. “So very super-duper amazing. They’re going to change your life!”