The Book Man, Chapter 77 (Revised)

77 A DIVERSION

“That one is a guard,” Tirion said.

They had stopped at the edge of the trees, and the remnants of the old Rover camp were visible just beyond the tangle of leaves: wooden staves from smashed barrels that had once held wine or potions, ashy patches of ground where fires had roared through the night, blackened husks of wagons. A hellhound padded to and fro across the site. As they watched, it lowered its black head to snuffle at the ground and overturn a patch of churned sod in search of food. Christian didn’t know if the beast was there as an added precaution or because Goblin had expected them to come out of the gardens in this spot. Either way, there was a hellhound in their path, and they could go no further until something was done about it.

“Lucky we came out upwind of him,” the wood-elf said softly. “Otherwise he’d already be crashing through here to get us.”

The hellhound might not have been able to smell them (yet), but they could smell it: the unpleasant odor of wet dog crossed with a thick, musky smell like that of an old bear. The circus ponies stamped nervously as they caught wind of it. The big cats sank down on their bellies with their noses wrinkled in soft snarls, looking like angry, overgrown housecats; the dancing bears stood up and snuffed the wind, but they made no sound.

“Keep them quiet,” Morrow ordered, and the animals’ handlers patted their beasts and murmured in their ears.

It was too late. The hellhound raised its head and looked toward their hiding place in the trees, sniffing so hard they could hear its nostrils opening and closing.

“We need a diversion,” said Morrow, “and quickly.”

Without hesitation, Rowan and Finn pointed to four of their performers, said, “Come on,” and led them a little farther down the tree line. Mr. Catcher’s hands tightened on his pony’s mane. The hellhound was already heading for the army, putting one giant paw slowly in front of the other like a pointer stalking a rabbit, when they heard the ringmasters’ voices.

“Step right up, step right up! Tonight, for one night only—”

“—for your pleasure and entertainment—”

“—we present to you the world-famous—”

“—the incredible—”

“—the one and only—”

“—Catcher Family Circus!” the sisters and their performers cried as one.

The hellhound had turned toward them at the sound of their voices, but now it stopped, confused, as they marched out of the woods in plain sight. The circus-ponies pranced beneath the weight of the ringmasters, followed by Graham Chelsea riding Roman atop two more ponies as though he had never been injured in his life. The contortionist who’d bandaged him cartwheeled side over side; two dancers doing lifts and arabesques brought up the rear.

“Oh, brave little sisters!” Mr. Catcher whispered. His hands were so tight in the pony’s mane that it danced beneath him and looked about to gallop off after the others, but Minerva whispered fiercely, “Don’t you dare.”

The hellhound dropped to its haunches and cocked its head at the six people parading by in front of it. In the trees, the army held its breath. Rowan and Finn took up their cries again.

“Presented this evening, for your viewing pleasure—”

“—Graham Chelsea, horse-whisperer and master rider—”

Graham tipped his hat with a grin—

“—Waylan Ryder, the most flexible contortionist that has ever been—”

The contortionist did a handspring—

“—and hailing all the way from the Kingdom of Hungary, the Obreht twins, the world’s foremost brother-sister ballet pairing!”

The male dancer lifted his sister above his head to wave gracefully at the hellhound.

Fantastic, Narodnaya said in surprise. You would never suspect they were doing anything other than putting on a show.

It was true. The two ringmasters and their performers must have been terrified; at least one of them had been seriously injured, yet they had show-stopping smiles plastered on their faces and went about the routine as if this was just another show they had rehearsed a hundred times. If Mr. Catcher’s knuckles had not been growing whiter and whiter, twisted in his pony’s mane, it would have been easy to forget his sisters and their friends were in any danger at all.

The hellhound’s tail thumped against the ground as the circus-folk paraded in front of it.

“If you would, ladies and gentlemen—”

“—hell-dogs and hell-dames—”

“—put your frighteningly huge paws together—”

“—for the Catcher Family Circus!”

To everyone’s surprise, the hellhound tilted its head back and yipped, thumping its tail harder than ever.

“He likes it,” Christian said. “He likes the show.”

Morrow shook his head. “That is one stupid guard dog. Okay, everyone, we need to get moving. If we’re lucky, they can buy us about ten minutes. I don’t think we’ve got longer than that before that hellhound realizes something’s up—”

He slid from his horse and strode between them, gathering them neatly into groups, each with at least one person on a pony, one bear, tiger, or lion and their handlers. He gave them whispered directions to attack from the right, the left, the center. When he was done he rubbed his chin and surveyed his work, seeming dissatisfied.

“I’d been hoping to have the ringmasters lead,” he said in a low voice. “Not that the rest of them aren’t brave, but it would do them good to see Rowan and Finn leading the charge.”

“I’ll lead one group,” Mr. Catcher said briskly. “I’ll never be able to face my sisters again if I don’t do something glorious while they’re out there showboating in front of a hellhound.”

“Oh, but Bartimeus—” Minerva began, but he waggled a finger at her.

“Nonsense, my dear, utter nonsense. I may be old, but I assure you I’m up for the challenge. And it would be absolutely spiffing to lead the charge like a young man. Now, look, my dear—” as Minerva opened her mouth to argue—“I do understand the damage the excitement could do, but after all, you know, one must expect a battle to cause bodily harm as it is, and so one might as well look dashing while getting it.”

Minerva frowned, but Mr. Catcher forestalled her with another wag of his finger.

“It’s no use arguing, my dear. If either of us ought to sit this out, it’s you, yet here you are. Let an old man have his fun.”

Morrow blinked. Tirion shrugged and said, “Then you can lead the left flank, since you seem so determined.”

Mr. Catcher inclined his head and said, “I am, my good fellow. Thank you.”

“Well,” said Minerva, “in that case I’ll lead the right flank.”

Christian looked at her but said nothing. He would have expected no less.

“Center?” Morrow said.

Liza opened her mouth, hesitated, and then said, “I will. Might as well be useful, if I have to be here.”

“I’ll lead with you,” Conrad said, “and it’s no use arguing with me, either.”

“If I didn’t know that by now,” his wife grumbled. “Not that you’ve got much of a choice anyway, unless you care to find your own horse.”

“Alright.” The Rover remounted. “Tirion, Christian, and I will lead the center with you until we reach Goblin’s stronghold, and then you’re on your own. Hopefully the fight will distract his allies long enough for us to get underground and kill him. Everyone ready?”

It was then the diversion failed. They were not sure why—one moment, the hellhound was watching Rowan and Finn’s miniature circus like a curious puppy; the next, it snarled, leapt to its feet, and gave chase.

“Break, boys!” Rowan shouted. Graham Chelsea jumped down onto one of his two ponies with a grimace and pulled the contortionist up behind him. The ballet twins leapt astride the other pony. Then they were off, galloping toward the center of the fairgrounds.

“Let’s go,” Morrow said. The army gave a cheer and flooded out into the clearing.