Chapter 01: The Starlight Society

Chapter 1

Lwshi’en's heart was pounding in his chest. Blood rushed past his ears, blocking out any other noise. He ached to close his eyes and focus only on the sensations flooding his body, but he didn't dare. He had given up control of himself to something primal deep within him, becoming a spectator to his own body, and it was glorious. For somewhere between an instant and eternity, he felt terribly alive.

And then, sooner than he ever wished it to, it ended. His feet were back on solid ground, and the applause of the audience rang in his ears. Lwshi’en took a bow, his knees trembling as the adrenaline left them.

"Where is my hexed hat?" 

Lwshi'en could hear Jhakari making a fuss inside the red and white striped changing tent even before he entered. Frantically knocking garish costumes off of tables, Jhakari was an entire circus's worth of uncontrolled panic shoved into one scrawny man.

"Quit with that!" Mistress Kaelgari shouted from across the tent. The brown-skinned woman angrily jabbed a pin into a torn seam of Eilyn's blue unitard, making her daughter jump. 

"Here's your hexed hat," she grumbled. She had to scoop her many layered skirts into her arms to bend down and pick up Jhakari's cartoonishly tall hat from the ground where he had dropped it. She thrust it into his hands angrily.

"Thank you, Laishi," Jhakari replied sweetly, as though oblivious of the annoyance in Mistress Kaelgari's smooth voice. 

"I saw your act tonight," Jhakari said, turning to Lwshi'en. He stepped towards him and slid his ivory hand between Lwshi'en's white vest and matching unitard. It tickled, but Lwshi'en didn't protest.

"It was really good," Jhakari continued, using his other hand to straighten the bearskin hat over his black hair.

"Don't encourage the boy," bemoaned Mistress Kaelgari. "You pushed yourself," she scolded Lwshi'en, her jerky movements making the waves of her black hair ripple. 

"I can do more," Lwshi'en replied confidently.

"We don't need you to do more, we just need you to make it to the other end of the rope," she said.

Lwshi'en beamed and ran a fallow brown hand through his black hair. "I was thinking I could try juggling next time. I won't be able to carry the balls up the ladder, so someone'll need to throw them at me." 

"I've never heard a more idiotic idea," Mistress Kaelgari growled at him, narrowing her red-brown eyes with characteristic drama.

"You shouldn't be surprised, Mother," Eilyn purred. She had the same deep-set brown eyes as her mother, with the sharp, angular features of her father. "There isn't an ounce of sense in that boy's head. If there was, he would have socked Jhakari in the mouth long ago."

The women shared a laugh and Jhakari pretended to be more offended than he was. It was an odd sense of humor, one that Lwshi'en did not share. He was just happy to see everyone getting along.

"I'm up," Jhakari sighed, patting Lwshi'en on the thigh. "Wish me luck."

Lwshi'en stayed behind as Jhakari headed out toward the stage and Mistress Kaelgari finished mending Eilyn's unitard.

"I'm going to go find your father," she said to Eilyn, packing her supplies back into her sewing bag.

"Alright, mother," Eilyn said, stretching and testing the mended seam. Her straight brown ponytail hung behind her like a silk ribbon.

"Your form was good tonight," Eilyn said quietly, once her mother had gone.

"Your form is good every night," Lwshi'en smiled at her, his onyx black eyes sparkling.

"Are you trying to get yourself fired?" Eilyn asked with an amused smile.

"I guess there just isn't an ounce of sense in my head," Lwshi'en smirked.

Eilyn laughed, but the smile fell from her face. "I really like you, Lwsh."

"I'm sorry, Lyn," he replied. An awkward silence grew between them. 

"You could use a net, like I do," said Eilyn. "Father would let you."

"I'm going to die on that rope," Lwshi'en said matter-of-factly.

"Don't say that," she pleaded softly.

"It's what keeps me going back up there. One of these times will be my last, and I need to know which one."

"You're so stupid," she said with a shake of her head. It was clear in her voice she was holding back tears.

"I'm sorry," Lwshi'en repeated. There was nothing else he could say.

After his act, Jhakari returned to the tent huffing and stomping.

"What's your problem now, Jhak?" Eilyn asked, hands on her slender hips.

"Frederyk didn't even bother to announce me!" Jhakari yelled, throwing his hat and embroidered jacket onto the ground of the tent. "This is the last straw. Where's Master Aivynav?" He demanded.

"I haven't seen Father yet," Eilyn sighed. "Probably out doing final curtain; you'll have to wait."

Jhakari kicked over a chair dramatically. "I'm going to go down in history as an unnamed goatherd! She doesn't do anything I say—she won't even take food from me—but play a little music and suddenly you've got the world's most hag hexed famous retching goat." He kicked a table leg for good measure. 

Lwshi'en held back a smile. "Maybe if you put on a dress and danced, they'd announce your name, too."

"Yeah, yeah," Jhakari rolled his eyes. "Laugh it up, pretty boy. If you weren't so damn talented, you'd be in the same place I am."

The hefty form of Master Aivynav strolled in through the tent flap. The tall man wore a fine red coat, embroidered with gold thread, that hung to his knees. His sharp, angular features marked him as a Northlander, though he had lost the harsh accent long ago.

"My princess," Master Aivynav shouted, embracing Eilyn in a bearhug. "You were magnificent out there tonight," he said, kissing his daughter on each cheek.

Master Aivynav turned, and his wrinkled, bearded face became a grim mask. "Lwshi'en," he said coldly.

"Master," Lwshi'en replied, with his best impression of a military salute.

"I expected nothing less," Master Aivynav grinned.

"I've had it!" Jhakari interrupted. "I've had it up to here with Mini this and Mini that. I didn't join this troupe to assist a goat do her act."

Master Aivynav turned to face Jhakari, calmly folding his arms across his stomach. "Have you finally found a skill you can do for your own act? I'm afraid we're not looking for another clown."

Jhakari huffed, enraged, but could not find the words to a retort. "I quit!" he announced, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. 

"Don't make a decision you'll regret," Master Aivynav said, his voice calm and level.

"I can't do this anymore," insisted Jhakari.

"I understand," Master Aivynav nodded. "We'll house and feed you until the end of the week, but once we move on from Hanzo, you'll be on your own." Master Aivynav swept out of the tent.

"You can't be serious," Eilyn protested.

"My uncle lives in town," Jhakari explained. "I keep hoping to see him in the audience, but then I imagine him writing to my parents and telling them all I do is stand there and gesture at Mini while the crowd loses it. When we were doing plays, at least I could call myself an actor," he grumbled.

"Father says the audiences don't have the attention span for the plays anymore," commiserated Eilyn. "Great Uncle Kaelgari hasn't been satisfied just writing skits, but Father says 'times are changing and we must change with them.' Sorry it isn't working out for you, Jhak."

"Why don't we all go out and grab some pastries?" Lwshi'en suggested. "Make a few more memories."

"That sounds like a great idea," agreed Eilyn. "Let's get changed and then see if any of the others want to come."

Lwshi'en changed into his street clothes, a cropped blue jacket over gray linen pants and a pair of woven sandals. The air was starting to trade in its summer humidity for a fall chill, more notable now that the sun had begun to set. Evening was always beautiful in Hanzo, as multicolored lanterns were lit and strung over the streets between roofs and balconies, a dazzling canopy over the bustling thoroughfares. As a trade city, Hanzo was second only to the port of Sarnai, with traders and tourists active well into the night. 

Master Aivynav's wagons were parked just outside the city, with tents and the stage built in an open clearing. It was a quick walk into the city proper, and Lwshi'en strolled along casually with a few other members of the troupe.

"Any idea what you'll do instead?" Rasha asked Jhakari. She was a lovely, dark-skinned, full-figured girl, the go-to eye-candy or damsel-in-distress whenever the troupe needed one. She was also the deadliest knife thrower this side of the Khandin River Valley. 

"I'll probably end up working for my uncle," said Jhakari. "He's got a whole company of candle makers."

"Er, I'd rather stab myself through the eye with a rusted tent stake," Seberin laughed. 

"What, does common work not suit you, Seb?" Rasha said to the tall, copper-skinned man with a flirty, mocking tone in her voice.

"With his habit of taking things that don't belong to him?" laughed Eilyn. "He wouldn't last a day in the real world without being thrown behind bars."

The others joined her in laughing, but Lwshi'en was soon distracted by the smell of fresh lemon-filled sun cakes. He led the group to the bakery using his nose, and pressed himself up against the glass window, marveling at the display of expertly decorated pastries. The perfectly round, fluffy sun cakes stared back at him.

"We're going to go find the morning dew stall," Eilyn said. The deep-fried balls of dough were saturated with sweet syrup until it beaded up on the surface like morning dew. 

"We'll catch up with you," nodded Jhakari. "I'm going to grab Lwsh his bi-annual sun cake."

"Oh, you don't have to do that, Jhak," Lwshi'en protested. 

"If I don't," countered Jhakari, "you'll sit there fidgeting over it for an hour."

Jhakari quickly returned from inside the bakery with a sun cake in one hand and a chocolate iced moon roll for himself in the other. He handed the sun cake to Lwshi'en, who bit into it gently, savoring its heavenly fluffiness and the tartness of the lemon filling. 

"I don't suppose I could convince you to leave with me," said Jhakari, tearing off a piece of the flaky crescent-shaped roll.

"I was born for the tightrope," Lwshi'en chuckled. "I'm not keen to go back to practicing on wash lines."

"Figured," Jhakari sighed. "I'm going to miss you — all of you — but you especially."

"I'll miss you, too," replied Lwshi'en. The taste of the sun cake went sour in his mouth as a feeling of doubt rose up the back of his throat.

"We should get back to the others," Jhakari said, breaking the awkward silence that was falling between them. Lwshi'en followed close behind him as they shouldered their way through the busy streets, eyes peeled for the other members of their troupe.

Food stalls and vendors lined every street in the heart of Hanzo. Everything from colorful Sarnain fabrics, to luxurious Northlander furs, to shimmering glass beads from across the Kaenykyn could be found in the markets here. Haggling was a tense, aggressive artform as merchants made their living selling goods brought into the city by river, land, or sea.

Lwshi'en had been barely scraping by in Hanzo when Master Aivynav had taken him in. The troupe had been even smaller back then, and there hadn't been much to spare, but Master Aivynav had been generous anyway. Lwshi'en had been no more than a bony waif, but Master Aivynav had seen potential in him anyway, and turned Lwshi'en into a gifted acrobat. 

Everyone in the troupe had a similar story, where Master Aivynav had encouraged and supported them when no one else would. In return, they worked their hardest for the troupe despite the meager pay it afforded them. Eilyn was different, of course. She had been born into the lifestyle. Still, she was a talented trapeze artist, fueled by a deep need to be seen as something other than her father's daughter. Now, when the other members of the troupe called her 'Princess Aivynav,' it was always a friendly jest.

The sweet smell of fried dough told Lwshi'en they were heading in the right direction.

"I think that's them over there," Jhakari pointed. Lwshi'en stood on tiptoe, but couldn't see over the crowd. Jhakari led him down the street, where they found Eilyn, Rasha, and Seberin tucked into an alcove between a busy restaurant and a closed herbalist's shop.

"The weather's nice tonight," Rasha commented, "but that means more traffic."

"It's a shame," said Eilyn with a nod of her head. "I heard the Prince of Sarnai was due in today, but we'd never get a glimpse through all these crowds anyway."

"The Prince of Sarnai?" Lwshi'en asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"Virdas Kaelkarim is the owner of the largest shipping company in Sarnai," Seberin explained. "With all of the shipping up and down the Khandin river, he's become so wealthy he's sometimes called the 'King of Sarnai.'"

"He's said to have an unusual heir," Eilyn added. "It's all the dock workers will talk about right now. Rumor has it, he's just come of age and is about to take up an official position in the company. Nothing strange about that," she admitted, "except that people are saying he’s got a whole procession headed up here to the Fenlands. If he's poking around the Elerhem, that could mean the opening of a new branch of the company."

Disinterested, Lwshi'en shrugged his shoulders and turned his attention back to his pastry.

"I’d heard he was traveling in search of a wife. I wonder if he’s handsome..." Rasha mused.

"Kaelkarim's wife is said to be Benni," Seberin said, as if it answered the question.

"A red-haired Sarnain then?" Rasha whistled. "And filthy with money, too? What a girl wouldn't give to have a seat on the knee of a man like that."

"They say he's got some of that Benni tricksy magic," Eilyn giggled. "Just one look'll make your clothes disappear."

They continued to talk and gossip into the night, until a yawn was passed around the group.

"We should be getting back," said Eilyn, pushing herself away from the wall she had been leaning against.

She led them through the emptying streets back to the troupe tents. A large fire was burning in the clearing, with most of the rest of the troupe seated on the ground around it, laughing and talking among themselves.

"The young ones return," said Mistress Kaelgari with a smile. "An exciting night on the town?"

"Lwsh got his sun cake," Eilyn laughed.

"He's never passed through Hanzo without one," her mother smiled. "I'm guessing you won't be staying for dinner, then?"

Eilyn shook her head, "not me, at least. I need some rest." The others nodded their agreement.

Lwshi'en and Eilyn walked together to their neighboring sleeping tents, set up beside Master Aivynav's personal wagon.

"Want to help me stretch before bed?" Eilyn asked Lwshi'en, propping a leg up on the side of the wagon. Her loose black trousers slid down, revealing the white flesh of her calf.

"And risk a repeat of last time? No, thank you."

"Father did give you that talking to, didn't he?" Eilyn smiled.

"I still hear his words when I go to bed at night," Lwshi'en shuddered.

"What exactly did he say to you?"

Lwshi'en sighed, covering his face in his hands. "He asked if I was trying out a new salute, and said he liked the old one better."

Eilyn threw back her head and cackled into the night.

"It's not funny, Lyn. It was mortifying." Lwshi'en insisted.

"Coming from Father," she said between laughs, "it's practically giving you his blessing. If you were anyone else he would have strung you up by your own tightrope."

"I guess so," Lwshi'en said, allowing himself to laugh along with her.