Hearts of Tabat by Cat Rambo

Author:Cat Rambo [Rambo, Cat]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-1-61475-638-5
Publisher: WordFire Press
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 31

Bliss carried Sebastiano along the street. He had to talk to someone about all this happiness. His first thought was of Letha, but his father would intrude on that discussion, insist on a dissection and analysis that would dull joy’s sharp blade.

He thought of Murga, of the Circus Owner’s appreciation of his work. He would find good conversation there, with someone who valued him.

From a distance, the Circus was cacophony, but up close, the individual threads resolved themselves and somehow rebounded: food and sawdust and crowd-stink. Stepping up to the Minotaur and Satyr duo guarding the entrance, he asked after Murga.

The Circus Owner was quick to appear.

“I have not come in search of business but of conversation,” Sebastiano said. “I am celebrating, actually, and have few friends to share my news with.”

Murga smiled. “Come to the tent and I will find something worthy of the occasion.”

He led Sebastiano through corridors of canvas. A scamper of clowns moved past and Sebastiano moved out of their way.

The clowns wore animal faces, paints drawn to give them whiskers, zebra stripes, bulbous snouts. Some wore ears, the fanlike protuberances of Dragons, or the great flapping ears of elephants, and some were even glamoured so their eyes were cat-pupilled pools of gold and green or many-petalled goats’ eyes. They moved as though they were Beasts. They lurched like charging bears or loped with the sinewy grace of panthers. They made him uneasy, deep down in his core in the same way Leonoa Kanto’s painting had, because no Human should move so like a Beast.

Staring after them, Sebastiano said wryly, “I know they are meant to be amusing but I have always found them disturbing.”

“That is because theirs is the most subversive medium. Anyone can paint,” Murga said. “Anyone can paint or write, and yet it’s controlled by things outside them, institutions like art critics and museums, things that allow them, institutions that tell us what is good and what is bad, treasure to be preserved, trash to be discarded. But a clown—everyone looks at a clown, and they don’t worry what it is that they’re looking at, they’re too busy laughing to notice what is happening.”

“You are full of philosophy tonight,” Sebastiano said. “Have you been celebrating before my arrival?”

“I so rarely get the pleasure of conversation with a mind of your caliber,” Murga said.

After they had settled into his tent, the Circus Owner brought out a silvery bottle. “A man of your upbringing will have had such a thing before,” he said deprecatingly. “But this is Fairy mead.”

Sebastiano’s eyes widened. “Indeed, I have but rarely tasted it,” he said. “That is perhaps a pricier celebration than my musings on my romantic life deserve.”

“Is that our celebration? Then surely it is worthy enough.” Murga poured the mead into tiny cups carved of ivory. “I have a supplier who sends me a bottle time to time. I offer it freely in the name of Giobi, Trade God of Friendship.”

By the time the bottle’s level had

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.