Circus of the Grand Design Read Online Free Page B

back by a green clip. Maybe she was the source of the pleasant scent.
    He turned his head away, afraid she would sense his attention.
    What would she think if she knew what he had done to Are No's house? She might not like him at all. But he wasn't a bad person. Are No deserved it. Lewis needed her to like him. He thought if he could explain, she would understand. But that was silly, fantasizing over a stranger when he should be worried about being caught. What if she was a detective, sent to bring him in? Those eyes—a detective wouldn't have those dark, dark eyes.
    The juggler bowed and went offstage. The assistant picked up the scattered objects and dropped them into the sack. The spotlight snapped off. A few seconds of darkness followed, then the light came back on, revealing Joseph Dillon, who stood in the middle of the arena floor, wearing a white top hat and holding a white cane. Comforted by the sight of his new friend and employer, Lewis sat up straighter, intent, watching; banishing his wild speculations about the woman.
    "Ladies and gentlemen."
    Dillon's voice resonated over the sound of a drum roll.
    "We have now reached our grand finale...an act I hope will please and excite...to new excesses...never before realized...in your lives." The light on Dillon went out; in the darkness his voice came from everywhere.
    "And now...crafted by Hephaestus for the Olympians...an automaton...seen only by the fortunate few."
    Dillon stopped, cloaking the entire building with silence. Shielded by the dark, Lewis gazed at where the woman sat, trying to make out an outline of her figure. He shivered—she could be doing the same, examining him, measuring his worth—as if he was an object of entertainment, like these circus people he would soon be meeting.
    The whole arena exploded with light. The woman was gone. Lewis turned all the way around, scanning the building. She was nowhere.
    With the light dazzling on Dillon's white hat, he spread his arms to welcome the audience. "And now. The one...the only...Attis...the magnificent mechanical horse and its fearless rider, Desmonica Rienzi."
    Lewis watched amazed. What appeared to be a mechanical horse trotted into view and stopped near Dillon. That's what the woman had been staring at. She had been expecting it.
    The horse seemed perfect, its fluidity of motion uncanny. Shiny metal, like pewter, with a black saddle and bridle and hoofs of radiant brass. Its mane and tail looked like real horse hair. The woman on the horse's back waved to the audience. She looked sleek and mysterious in her wine-colored leotard, short black skirt, and tights. He would be happy to meet this Desmonica.
    Desmonica raised both hands over her head, and the horse reared. It pummeled the air with its hooves and made a sound like wind blown over the top of a bottle. Its hinged mouth flared out, showing silver. Another horse, this one dirty-white and obviously living flesh, trotted into view, ridden by a small man dressed like a jockey. The horses lined up on either side of Dillon. He lifted his hat and extracted a starter's pistol. Extending his arm straight up, he fired a shot, and the horses surged forward. They raced around the perimeter of the floor. Dust clouded the air behind them. They galloped faster and faster with each circuit.
    But a mechanical horse couldn't possibly move the way this one did. It had to be a real horse disguised to look mechanical. Not that it mattered. The appearance was the important thing. All these tricks—would he lose the thrill of watching once he knew how everything was done?
    The horses kept pace with each other until the fourth lap, when the mechanical horse edged ahead. The clown ran out from backstage with a black-and-white checkered flag. The mechanical horse passed the clown, who waved the flag to signify victory. The mechanical horse turned to the audience and knelt, with one leg going back and its head dipping in an equine bow.
    Everyone in the audience, Lewis