Circus Galacticus Read Online Free Page B

angry parrot. "And she's a liar. She said she came through the mirror."
    "Did she? That
is
interesting."
    "It's impossible. She's not one of us!"
    "The Tinkers' Mirror never lies. And it's time we had a new recruit to liven things up around here."
    "No," protests Sirra. "You're going to bring her
with
us? We're in enough trouble already without taking home souvenirs."
    "Hey!" I interrupt. "Nobody's bringing me any where! First you make me think I'm crazy with your secret messages, and now you're going to kidnap me?
We have answers,
hah! For all I know, you're the ones who gave me this bubblegum dye job, not my—" I stop myself before I mention the meteorite in my pocket. I've got enough trouble without these bozos coming after it, too.
    The Ringmaster cocks his head. "You mean to say your hair isn't normally pink?"
    "Of course not! No one has pink hair
naturally!
"
    "I grant you it is rare, yes. The Mandate were so dreary in their color choices." He tugs out a lock of his own dark brown hair and studies it mournfully.
    My anger is starting to wear off, which isn't a good thing, because that'll leave me with just the fear. My legs tremble. "Please, let me go. I won't cause any trouble."
    "I find that hard to believe," says the Ringmaster, casting aside his lighthearted humor with such absolute suddenness it catches the breath in my chest. "You've been causing trouble all your life, haven't you? Asking questions that weren't in the textbooks. Saying things other people were afraid to say. There was always something off about you, something different, something that made other people stare and whisper and maybe even laugh ... Isn't that right?" His eyes pull on mine, demanding an answer.
    I swallow against the boulder that seems to have lodged in my throat. "How ... how do you know?"
    "I know because it's the story of every person who walks through that mirror. It's the story of the Tinker-touched. That's what we are. That's what you are. It's why your hair is that remarkable and quite fetching color, and why you were able to find your way into the Big Top."
    I shake my head. "I don't know what you're talking about. I'm ... nobody. A weirdo. A freak."
    "Just like the rest of us."
    Sirra snorts. The Ringmaster ignores her, his eyes fixed on mine. Then he grins, twirling his jeweled baton from hand to hand. "But I've gone about this all wrong. You should see the show first. Speaking of which—you'd better get back to the stage, Sirra, before Nola has a fit looping that intro."
    I realize that the music has started to repeat, going from a trembling hush to a triumphant burst of synthesized trumpeting over and over again, with a grating fuzz of static in between. Sirra hurries away down the corridor, shooting me a backward glance that says pretty clearly she'd rather be bashing my face in.
    "Well? Do you want to see the show?" The Ringmaster waves for me to follow.
    I cross my arms. "Who are you guys, really? You said you had answers. I want answers before I go anywhere."
    "We're exactly what it says out front. The Circus Galacticus, bringing acts to delight and amaze across the universe."
    "Across the
universe.
Seriously?"
    "Of course not!" He gives a huff of disdain. "Do I look like the serious sort? Across the universe stupendously. Across the universe
insouciantly.
Wonderful word,
insouciant,
isn't it? I love Earth. All the brilliant, maddening words. Did you know there are more than six thousand languages on this planet? Drives the translator to distraction."
    "Wait; back up. So you're saying you're aliens? I don't ... I can't..."
    "Of course you can," says the Ringmaster. "Is it so hard to believe there might be something more out there?"
    "No. I mean, my parents always said there was. But..." I flap my hands, unable to express just how different this all is from the sleek rocket ships and wise visitors from the stars that figured in my bedtime stories. "A
circus?
"
    "You would have preferred an invasion fleet? Flying