New Tribe Member
Circus Spectaculum 3
[ Index ]
[#1] [#2] >#3< [#4] [#5] [#6] [#7] [#8] [#9]
The morning started at first light. The chieftain and two riders headed to the trading outpost, to hire a thief to check Dale's situation indirectly, discreetly. Dale didn’t even know those words but they sounded wise coming from the chieftain.
Moz took charge of teaching Dale everything about barbarian life, from washing up to helping prepare the morning meal. Every ordinary thing Moz knew was novel to Dale. Dale didn’t mind being thought ignorant―he grew up accustomed to being in Charles’s shadow―and that made it fun for Moz to be the knowledgeable one instead of a lump.
It was past noon when the chieftain returned with news. He gathered the tribe and told them all at once. Dale’s brother Charles was with the circus, he had never run away, it was Dale who was thought to be the runaway. Dale stood to protest but Moz pulled him back down and shook his head vigorously.
“Wait,” he whispered, patting Dale’s arm.
“The circus is headed to the highlands, skipping Telius, Greyfalls and Shampton altogether. There is a storm brewing that involves them all and it is not considered good business for the circus.”
The last comment brought some gruff laughter from the tribe. Dale looked bewildered but Moz just tapped Dale’s arm again and shook his head.
“Dale!” called the chieftain, “It is dangerous for you to follow the circus, but I will give you the choice. We can put you as close to Telius as we dare and then you will be on your own. Or you can stay with us until the storm passes and the circus returns. The choice is yours.
“Moz! You will be responsible for Dale as long as he is with us. Do you understand?”
Moz stood and put a fist on his heart.
“Good. Dale, give me your choice by sundown.”
Dale stood and placed his fist over his heart as Moz had done, but with less enthusiasm.
“Good. Now let’s eat!”
Later, as they ate, gnawing on charred bones, Dale talked to Moz about the meeting.
“I didn’t run away,” said Dale sullenly.
“I know. Everybody knows,” said Moz, “It is how the circus people talked.”
“What does he mean by the storm?”
“War,” said Moz offhandedly, “The bad kind.”
“There’s a good kind?”
“There is war where you know your enemy.”
“And the bad kind?”
“The kind you don’t know your enemy. Could be your friends. Could be everyone.”
After some thought, Dale asked, “Why does the tribe always laugh about the circus?”
“It is a storm,” Moz answered, “Didn’t you know? Spectaculum is well known.”
Dale thought some more and shook his head, not looking up.
“I thought the circus was family,” said Dale quietly.
“The tribe is family,” Moz said firmly, “I’ll show you.”
When dusk arrived Dale went to the chieftain with Moz at his side.
“I would like to stay with the tribe,” Dale said plainly.
The chieftain nodded, “I hope you stay in the tribe.”
Dale nodded and Moz patted his back. They turned to go watch the sunset.
[ Index ]
It's nice to find a family...not easy to do...