The Mermaid's Sister(44)

“Please do not tap upon the glass or bother the mermaid with loud noises. She is a sensitive creature,” Soraya says.

From behind the curtain, the teenager says, “Oh, glory!”

“Move along, sir,” Soraya says. “Next please.”

The boy emerges, rubbing his forehead and smiling like a drunken clown.

Time and time again, the male customers come out from behind the curtain with similar expressions, somewhere between lovesick and stupefied. The females look jealous or skeptical. All the children have shiny Christmas-morning faces.

Guilt washes over me. I should have been able to protect my sister from being put on display for profit. From being ogled like the two-headed lamb or the collection of eyeballs. I want to hop off my crate and rescue her, but I feel Dr. Phipps’s gaze upon me, and I know that to attempt to take Maren now would buy my death and leave her at his mercy however long she might live.

An hour later, or maybe two, the last gawker exits the tent. Every bone and muscle in my body aches from remaining still for so long. My feet throb, and I wonder if real Japanese princesses are forced to wear such uncomfortable shoes.

“It is time for bed,” Soraya says. Her money box rattles as she saunters past me. “You will need your rest. In the morning, we pack and take to the road again. This is hard work, is it not? The life of the entertainer.”

Wearily, I nod.

“One thing before I go,” she says coolly. “You will not assault a paying customer again. If you feel you are being threatened, cough loudly and I will come to your aid. Your behavior this evening was most undignified, and could have meant a loss of profit for Dr. Phipps. And you know it is our duty to keep Dr. Phipps happy.”

I nod again with the poise of Princess Hatsumi. Inside, my anger simmers.

“I am glad we understand one another,” she says. “Now, douse all the lamps in the gallery, and then go straight to bed.”

I do not go to the wagon to sleep. Instead, I go to Maren. On her bed of pearls, she slumbers as peacefully as a baby.

“Good night, sister,” I say. I kick off the horrid wooden sandals and wrap myself in the blue velvet formerly used to cover her jar. I lie down beside her on the dirt floor.

I sleep, and I dream of growing white feathered wings and a long red bill. I dream of pulling Maren from her jar with my clawed toes and lifting her above the tent. My wings catch the wind and I carry my sister through cloudless skies all the way to the sea.





CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE





In the next town, I beg to be taught a show-worthy skill. O’Neill spends two hours schooling me in the art of juggling. He is a patient teacher indeed. When he stands close to me, the warmth radiating from his skin makes me weak in the knees. He cups my hands in his, forcing me to toss the balls high into the air. He whispers instructions and encouragements into my ear. I could melt into the earth.

Silently, I scold my wayward heart and remind it that O’Neill loves my sister, and she loves him.

As I fumble with the colored balls, O’Neill groans and rolls his eyes. Jasper howls dementedly, seeming to find it especially hilarious when the balls bounce off my head and shoulders.

I am not so amused. I do not relish the thought of spending another evening as Princess Hatsumi. Still, if that is my fate, at least I will be in the same room as Maren.

Jasper sits down on a tree stump and sighs. “You will never be a juggler, Clara. Unless . . .” A wicked grin blossoms between his nose and chin, “Unless you become Clumsy Clara the Clown. I believe we have a clown costume somewhere.”

O’Neill laughs as if he and Jasper are great friends. He should not behave so.

“Well, that is out of the question,” I declare. “I dislike clowns, and I will not be one.”

“Hmm,” O’Neill says, regaining his composure. “What about a magician’s assistant? I’ve been studying a book I found in the wagon and I recall reading of several illusions we could perform together.”

“Will I be sawed in two? I would really rather stay in one piece,” I say.

“No sawing, I promise,” O’Neill says. “But I could make you vanish. Or you could hand me props for other tricks.”

“Smashing idea,” Jasper says. “And Mama has just the gown for you, all spangled and barely decent.”

I think he is serious. I refuse to further his amusement by expressing my horror at the thought of the immodest dress.

Jasper jumps to his feet. “I’ll just hurry over and ask Papa doctor and Mama what they think of the idea. Then I’ll find that fabulous gown for you to try.” He winks at me roguishly before walking away.

“There,” says O’Neill. “Problem solved.”

“One of them,” I say. “And not the most pressing one. We are no closer today to finding a way to deliver Maren to the ocean than we were the day Phipps first dosed us. Time is passing, and her chances with it.”

“Not so loud, Clara,” O’Neill says. “First of all, do as I do, and feign friendship. Or at least submission. You must not cause the slightest suspicion.” He leans closer, resting his cheek against mine as he whispers in my ear. “I have been thinking about Maren’s dilemma, every minute of every day. I will find a way to take her to the ocean, Clara. If I have to die to do it, I will.”