Bags and Pockets at the Circus.

[joegoda]

"Mamma, can we have one?" Esmeralda was pointing and jumping and pointing and jumping. Her eyes were big and round and her dress flared like an umbrella around her.

Grizelda was holding Esmeralda back by one hand to keep her from running out into the middle of the parade. "No, honey. We don't have a place for tiger." She sighed. "Or the bear, or the peacock."

Even though she was tired and exasperated, Grizelda smiled. It had been quite a while since she saw her daughter seem so happy. Every since they left Tears, the only joy that Esme had was when she was taking classes at the Centaur's university. It didn't matter how bright her daughter was, student life for a four year old couldn't be all THAT much fun.

Speaking of fun, she wondered where her husband was. Bags was probably still at that weaponry exhibit, dickering over price or something, having the time of his life. He was never happier when he was in the middle of a discussion of blades, warfare, or technique and strategy. Well, and she smiled even broader at the thought, with the exception of his daughter. Nothing made him happier than his family. Even if he did grouse about it from time to time.

This whole thing with being run out of Tears and with Beegle popping back up. Her smile was briefly replaced by a frown. That bastard. Who knows what was happening back home. Home. The Mansion was destroyed, swallowed into the earth. And the tree! That incredible, majestic tree that stood in the center of the living room... gone. Gone forever. A wave of sadness passed through her like an earthquake. She sighed again, shuddering.

"Mom?" Grizelda felt a squeeze on her had and Esmeralda's sweet face looked up at her, concerned. "All you all right?"

"I'm all right, Esme." Grizelda wiped a tear from her eye. "I was just thinking, that's all."

Esmeralda pulled strongly on her mother's arm until their faces were on a level with each other. Esmeralda's hazel eyes mirrored her mother's in color and shape. A serious, serious frown crossed her four year old face.

"Mother," she said, sounding decades older than she was, "Dad and Unk will fix it. You know they will. There isn't any thing they can't do. What Uncle Pockets can't fix, Daddy will just take care of."

Her little hand patted her mother's and for a moment, Grizelda was startled, wondering who was taking care of her.

"So, no more thoughts of that bad, bad man, okay?" A wicked and mischievous grin crawled across Esmeralda's face. "We're here to have fun, Mamma! So get with it." Something caught her eye, and her mouth formed a big O. "Can we have that? Please? Pleeeeeeeesssse?"

With her free hand, Esmeralda was pointing across the circus ground, past a juggler throwing pins, past the fire-eater and the bearded lady and at a small vendor selling what looked like a cloud on a stick.

Grizelda trailed behind her daughter, as the waif pulled her through the crowd. "What is it, Esme?"

"I don't know, Momma, but it's not a bear, a peacock, or a tiger. Ewww, yucky!" Esmeralda paused, but only briefly, to step around the large leavings of an ephelhump. The large, grey and wrinkled animals delighted Esmeralda at first, until she saw what they left behind them. "It's just a pretty, and the sign says it only costs a penny!"

Esmeralda pulled her mother up to a smallish cart with large wooden spoked wheels. The whole thing was painted garishly in reds and golds. A sign, propped on a tripod, proclaimed "Sugar Clouds! Only One Penny!" A reed thin woman stood behind the cart, working magic.

It wasn't real magic, of course, but it surely seemed like it. The woman poured a small bag of sugar into a slowly spinning kettle. Under the kettle, a fire burned hotly and the woman wore a red and gold checkered bandana to catch the sweat that still seemed to find its way into her eyes.

Still, she smiled at the two women standing behind her. "It's a wonder, isn't it?" She pulled a paper cone from under the little shelf on her side and stuck it into the kettle. She rolled it around and around the edge of the kettle, picking up threads of melted sugar, which wound itself around the cone. She kept up her action until the cone carried a large, pink bundle of the sweet stuff, which looked for all the world like the cloud the sign proclaimed.

The vendor handed the paper cone to Esmeralda. "Here you go, luv! Sweet as a baby's kiss, light as a spring breeze, and pretty as the princess who stands before me."

"Thank you, lady," Esmeralda said, doing a small curtsey and holding a fistful of paper cone.

Grizelda reached into her shoulder bag to make payment of the coin, but the vendor stopped her. "I can't take your money, your Majesty."

Grizelda stopped with her hand halfway into her bag, surprised. She peered at the broom skinny woman on the other side of the cart. "Do I know you?"

"It was long ago, missus, but yes, you do." The vendor smiled, showing that most of her teeth were still there, and it was a friendly smile, a gentle smile. "You and me didn't meet more than maybe twice. I'm Charla Wiggins." Seeing Grizelda's bewildered shake of the head, she explained. "Mayor Wiggins' sister."

"Mayor..." Grizelda stopped. Tears sprung unbidden to her eyes and she let loose a small gasp. She dropped Esmeralda's hand and ran around the cart and hugged the vendor. "Oh, my!" she said. "Oh my!"

Esmeralda, concerned over her mother's odd behavior, also went around the corner of the cart, but stood silently holding her pink cloud on a stick. She let the two women hug for minutes, then shyly reached up and tugged at Grizelda's skirt. "Ahem," she coughed, gently.

Esmeralda let go of the vendor slowly and turned around to Esmeralda. "Esme, this is Charla Wiggins. Her brother helped your daddy and me when we were in a very, very bad situation."

Indeed, Mayor Wiggins had willed Grizelda a small fortune in gold and a fairly large cabin, just outside of Forest End, as well as the surrounding lands. Grizelda may have left Forest End in a hurry, but she left being a wealthy woman.

Grizelda turned back to Charla Wiggins. "Charla, this is..."

"Esmeralda," Charla said, still smiling. "Your daughter, of course." Her blue eyes shone with tears. "Ah, Grizelda, many of us here remember you well. You were always so kind and gentle to those here who were less fortunate back in the bad old days. My brother loved you like you were his own daughter. So did many of us. It wasn't a surprise that he left you so much of his estate when he died."

Grizelda nodded, remembering. "I was certainly surprised, let me tell you. I never, ever expected anything from anyone. And when things went bad..." She stopped in her story, and her smile faded. "I'm sorry for your brother's death. He was a good man."

"Yes, he was. Just a moment." The vendor paused while she served up a cloud on a stick to a smiling child dressed in a blue frock. The boy’s father looked around a bit confused.

"Where's the musicians, missus?" he asked, removing his floppy green had. "This is the first time we've been to the circus, you see, and I want my boy to hear real music." He scratched his scraggly beard. "I think he'll be one himself, someday, the way he's always banging away on that cheap guitar of his."

"Ah," said Charla, "you'll be wanting the pavilion where the Gamboni is playing. Best musicians in the land."

Grizelda's eyebrows rose in surprise. "The Gamboni? Queen's Gamboni? They're here?"

Charla nodded. To the father, she pointed down the fairway, toward a large round tent. "See that tent?" The father nodded. "Head to that tent. Right before it, you'll see a path leading off to the right. Follow that path, and you'll find them easy enough. Just listen for the sound of The Bruce's guitar." Seeing that the father understood the directions, she nodded again. "That'll be a penny, please."

Once the father had paid for his son's treat, the two moved on and Charla turned back to Grizelda. "We've heard tales of your court in... Tears, isn't it?” The stories of you and your husband, King Bags, is the stuff of legend here. How you rousted out that horrible Beegle person and was given the crown by the old King, Jorge. Quite a story, your Majesty."

"Charla," Grizelda said, laying a gentle hand on the vendor's arm, "I will always be a daughter of Forest End. It's just Griz, okay?"

Charla Wiggins nodded, and warmly hugged Grizelda. "I was worried you'd be angry when you found out that we had to sell my brother's property." She looked at the ground, showing how hard it was to admit. "We had no money, after the war with Sharonna. There was nothing we could do. I'm sorry.

Grizelda waved it all away. "Pish posh! Water under the bridge." She laughed. "I would have just spent the money, anyway. I'm glad you got some use out of it."

"Got some...?” Charla laughed, greatly amused at something. "Grizelda. The money and land that you left behind funded this circus. The entire town was so poor after the war; we didn't have a pot to..." Charla glanced at Esmeralda. "We didn't have anything." She waved her hand at the surrounding circus with its colorful tents and happy sounds of children and carnival music.

"About three years ago, Queen's Gamboni came to town. We couldn't pay them, but it didn't seem to matter none. They took one look at this sad little hovel of a town, said 'looks like you could use some music' and just set up shop, pitching their tent right where it is now."

"They started playing, and bless their hearts; they brought the first smiles to some of us in a very long time. We paid 'em, best we could by feeding 'em, best as we could. They sent out an invitation to the other villages to send their musicians and artists to come here and show their stuff. Next thing you know, there was a little carnival here. People came from miles around to see and hear and listen. At first, though, there weren't hardly anybody come here... so we had to do something."

"It was that old scoundrel, Simon..." she paused, looking at Grizelda with a squinted eye. "You remember Simon? Owner of Lionhearts?"

Grizelda nodded, remembering the Barkeep and his wife, Christina. "Yes, I remember," she said and waved for Charla to continue her story.

"Anyway, after your man Bags took care of that horrible Captain Stringer, the Governor's hold on the town sort of evaporated. Simon took back Lionhearts and it was a good thing, too. Christina was about to pop with her first child. Didn't matter, though. Even with the Governor gone, we were still poor as church mice. So one day, all of us... well, all of us that sort of ran the town, anyway... we were sitting in Lionhearts, and Simon piped up asking what happened to the Mayor's money? He knew very well, same as the rest of us that my brother left most of it to you."

"Simon didn't let it go, and started talking about what a good soul you were, how gentle and generous you were, and blah, blah, blah. You know how Simon goes on. Then Suzi, the singer of the Gamboni, chimes in with how you would have been appalled and royally ticked off if we didn't use the money to help to pull the town out of the mud."

Charla paused in her tale, to gauge Grizelda's response. Grizelda, caught off guard, started. "Of course! I would have thought you were silly to not use the money. It wasn't really mine, anyway... it was the Mayor's and that made it the town's money. Suzi was exactly right."

"Well," Charla continued, "I know there's many here who will argue and tell you that the money was yours by rights. But Grizelda, what else could we do? There were performers pouring in from all over the country. Those that had 'em were pitching tents, and those that didn't were sleeping on the cold ground. We didn't have enough of anything to share with 'em. Not food, nor love, nor shelter."

"It was Jorge who came up with the idea of the circus."

"Jorge?" Grizelda asked, surprised. "Jorge is here?" The former king of Tears was an odd duck, a bit insane, but a nice man. "Good grief," Grizelda said, her smile growing broader. "This is going to be like old home week!"

Seeing that Grizelda was not bothered one wit by her story, Charla plunged on. "We used the land and money my brother left you, to set this place up. We traded that mountain land for something a bit flatter and bought some tents from another little kingdom in the middle of the desert."

"Wait," Grizelda said, holding up her hand. "Let me guess. Was this kingdom called Bangala?"

Charla nodded, grinning. "That's the place." She winked at Grizelda. "It seems they had just started negotiations with a tiny kingdom called Tears. They told us some pretty wild tales about a king and queen that ruled there, along with some crazy wizard named Pockets. That is his name, isn't it? Pockets? The one that seemed sweet on that cook at the brothel?"

Grizelda laughed. "Yeah, his name is Pockets, and crazy he may be. I don't know about him being sweet on anything other than lemonade, though."

The two women laughed for a bit, sharing stories of the good-bad old days, back when Captain Stringer was the terror of the town, and Grizelda worked at the cathouse. Esmeralda had finished her cloud on a stick, and was tugging at Grizelda's skirt again.

"What is it, honey?” Grizelda asked, bending down to her daughter. "Do you want another cloud?"

"I need to... um... you know." Esmeralda said, looking around to see if anyone was noticing her discomfort.

Grizelda looked up at Charla. "Where would a little girl go to... you know?"

"Ah." Charla said with a knowing nod. "There's a row of privies just down the path, Griz." She pointed in the same direction that she had sent the father. The only thing is, when you get to the big tent, turn left, not right, okay?" Grizelda nodded. "They're right there, next to the oddity pavilion."

"Oddity pavilion?” Grizelda asked.

"Yeah. There's a few things there that are just... odd." Charla's voice dropped to a near whisper, but lost none of her humor. "Some of them are even, so it's said, to have come from the Southern Continent. The privies are right there." She laughed. "Hell's bells, you might even catch old Jorge over there somewhere. He's the circus' main story teller."

"Story Teller?” Grizelda asked, her eyebrow rising. "Jorge?"

"Why sure!" Charla laughed again. "How do you think the stories of the mighty King Bags and the lovely Queen Grizelda got told?" She laughed some more. "He's quite a pickle, that Jorge is."

"Huh," Grizelda huhed. "I'll see if I can catch him."

"You should!” Charla said. "Listen to him tell about the battle of the sewers, but don't correct him if he doesn't get it right. I think he tells it just the way it should be told."

"Momma," Esmeralda was sounding desperate. "I really, really, reeeaaaaly have to go!"

"Okay, then!” Grizelda said. "Let's go!" She waved at Charla as she moved down the path. "It was good to see you, Charla! I'm glad you used the money the way you did!"

"Oh!" Charla ran after her, holding an envelope. "This is for you! Simon said if I ever saw you, I was to give it to you. We all have a copy. All of us, that is, that run this place. Any one of us that saw you was to give it to you!" She turned back, saw a customer standing at her cart and said, "Gotta go, Griz. Duty calls! Stop by on your way out, okay?" Waving briefly and she was back at her cart, helping her next customer.

Grizelda put the envelope in her shoulder bag, letting Esmeralda tow her through the crowd. Grizelda was impressed by all the variety here. To her left, she could see a line of canopied shops, offering foodstuffs from fried pies to full dinners. To her right, there were vendors offering things from trinkets for children to solid house wares. It wasn't so much a circus, she saw, but a growing and profitable commercial district. All around there was the sound of happy people, serious discussion, and business being done.

She made a mental note to ask Charla how much money the circus made, just because she was curious. Grizelda was truly happy that the money the Mayor had left her had been used this way. She was never much for material goods and had felt genuinely uncomfortable with the provisions of the Mayor's will. In her heart and in her soul, she would always be a daughter of Forest End, but more importantly, she would always be her mother's daughter. A healer. A gypsy by nature. A wanderer by temperament.

When they reached the fork in the road, the large round tent, which was easily the largest tent that Grizelda had ever seen, proved to be the Big Top. It was something that Grizelda had heard about, but never, in her wildest dreams, thought she would ever see. A large placard stood on a tripod next to the entrance, promising five shows a day for only three silvers.

The barker, a rotund man wearing a red and white striped vest and a flat topped straw hat was extolling the crowd to "Hurry, hurry, hurry, the show was about to start!"

She wasn't sure, but she thought she caught a glimpse of Capitani's fuzzy hairdo. She'd have to stop in and see if that was where Capitani and Thom had got to. Bren was back in Overhill, under the watchful eye of his instructors at the Centaur University, studying medicine and mechanics.

"Here!” Esmeralda's voice was excited and anxious. "I'll be right back. Don't go anywhere!" A pinkish blur and the closing of a privy door and Esmeralda was gone for the moment.

Grizelda looked around at the throng, being always watchful of the privy door behind which Esmeralda had disappeared. Precocious did not begin to describe her daughter. A true genius, wise beyond her years, older than she had a right to be. Those did begin to describe Esmeralda, but only just. There were things going on in her daughter's head that Grizelda could only wonder about.

"Griz!” An older voice called out. "Grizelda! By Gods and Goddesses, it's good to see you!" A hand caught her arm just as she was turning to the voice.

"Jorge!" Grizelda hugged the old king. His body, tall, but never very large, seemed even more wasted, but strong. Grizelda could feel the tautness of his muscles and sinews. Life on the road had been good to the man. His face, long and lined and bearded, beamed a smile to break the bank and his brown eyes twinkled behind the lenses of his spectacles. "Jorge! How are you?"

"I'm fine, Griz, fine as a fiddle, fine as frogs hair!" He twirled around, showing the flowing robe he wore. It was multicolored in reds and golds and blues. On his head he wore a pointed blue hat. "What do you think?” He prodded, excitedly. "I'm a story teller!"

"So I've heard," Grizelda smiled. Her face was going to be sore by the end of the day with all the smiling she was doing. "I hear that you and Queen's Gamboni saved this town."

Jorge blushed, as much as a heavily tanned face can blush. "Well... I don't know about all that, Griz." He smiled shyly. "Maybe a little bit."

Gone was the crazy king of Tears, who stayed inside his Mansion with the tree in the middle of the living room and its hallways filled with paintings of the victims of torture. Gone was the man who was sure his life had ended when his wife had died.

"What happened to the horn playing, Jorge?” Grizelda asked, referring to the big brass horn she had seen Jorge playing when they first met. "I figured you'd be playing with the Gamboni."

"Oh, I gave that up," said the former king. "I found I liked telling stories better. It fills me up, if you know what I mean."

Grizelda saw the door to the privy open and Esmeralda come out. She nodded. "Yes... I know exactly what you mean, Jorge." Esmeralda came to her mother's side, and Jorge's eyes got wide.

"Oh my!" he said, his eyes wide. "Who do we have here? Is this a captured fairy princess?" Esmeralda giggled.

"Jorge, this is my daughter, Esmeralda."

Jorge winked at Grizelda, saying I know... I'm just playing. He dropped to the ground, folding his legs under him and arranging his robes around him. "Esmeralda... Esmeralda..." he tasted the name, rolling his eyes and scratching his beard. "That is indeed the name one would give a fairy princess. It sounds like..."

Jorge reached up and seemed to pluck something from the air. When he brought it down he presented a closed fist, palm down to the girl. "Place your hand under mine, Esmeralda."

After the girl had cautiously done so, he then asked her to tap on the top of his fist. When she did, his fist opened and a necklace, in spun silver, dropped into her hand. The jewel was a bright green and, while not very large, was impressive in its square cut and color. "You name is like the emerald, little princess. I want you to have this."

Esmeralda looked up at her mother, who nodded. She took the necklace and placed it around her neck, and arranged the green gem so that it lay perfectly on the front of her bodice. The green of the emerald and the green of her dress matched nearly perfectly. She smiled at the funny old man in the robe who was sitting in front of her and curtseyed.

"Thank you, your majesty," she said.

Jorge looked up at Grizelda. "You knows me?"

"I've seen pictures and heard people talk, your Majesty," Esmeralda said politely. "You're Jorge, former king of Tears and father of The Harv."

Jorge's bushy eyebrows bushed even more. "THE Harv?" He looked up at Grizelda again. "Harv is now THE Harv?"

Grizelda smiled and nodded. "He's pretty special, Jorge. A good soldier and a good man. You'd be proud of him."

"Oh, I am, Griz." Jorge shook his head in surprise. "THE Harv. Is he here?"

"No, Jorge, he isn't. I'm sorry." Grizelda extended a hand to help the old king up. "He is the official emissary for Tears, working on trade relations with other countries." A thought came to her and her hands flew to her mouth. "Oh my..."

Jorge was dusting himself off, but stopped when he heard the concern in her voice. "What?" he asked. Is something wrong with Harv?"

"Jorge," Grizelda began, "it's a long story. Harv was away when Beegle returned and took Tears away."

"Beegle?" Jorge's voice began to rise. "That son of a ... scoundrel. I had hoped he was dead."

"So had we, Jorge." Grizelda said sadly. What had been a wonderful day was turning into something other. "So had we. Beegle showed up with a man named Milton Pewitt, who had become someone called The Preacher. The two of them have convinced a large number of the citizens of Tears that Pockets is evil, and by association, Bags and I are too. We just barely escaped with our lives."

Jorge was silent while he digested this. "And Harv?" he asked finally.

"Harv was away, like I said. Hopefully, he's smart enough to realize that something horrible has happened, and he'll stay away from Tears. At least until we can take it back." Her mouth sat in a hard line. "That's partly why we're here, Jorge. We're raising an army to go to win our home back."

"Hm.” Jorge hummed. "Hm, hm, and hm."

Grizelda looked around. "Gods, I wish that Bags was here. He could explain it so much better."

"Hmm."

At that very moment, a roar went up from a nearby tent. Grizelda, Esmeralda and Jorge turned toward the sound. A large man with reddish hair flew though the entrance, his feet not touching the ground. He flew backwards and on his hands were boxing gloves. He landed and skidded on the straw and ended up against a tent wall on the other side of the path.

Grizelda took Esmeralda's hand and ran to the figure. She knelt down and slapped the man's face twice. His brown eyes flickered once, twice, and then stayed open. Once they focused on Grizelda's face, the man smiled, lopsidedly.

"Hello Griz. I love you." And then, smiling, Bags passed out again.