Grog was good-humored about Jasson losing the majority of the bandits. He laughed about it too much. It pushed Jasson past chagrined blushes into sulking avoidance.
So it was that Jasson stayed scrolling on his phone well past dusk. The next city had large fields within their walls, so the caravan was pushing through the night. The caravan activated its magical headlights, which strobed with the bumpy road while illuminating the path and surrounding forest.
They progressed slowly and Jasson didn't look up until he caught the lights of the city out of his window. Jasson leaned out, catching a glimpse of high walls lit by modest arrays of lights illuminating the dark.
Just two more cities to go.
Jasson stretched as the caravan pulled to the stop. He dimly heard the sound of guards speaking with the caravan leaders. After a brief confirmation of identity, the guards allowed the caravan through the gates.
Jasson looked around as he passed through the gates, noting how the magical streetlights here were so much dimmer than the ones in Stalt. Yet there was a glow of more lights ahead, and a certain smell in the air. Were there other caravans in the city? Just how big were these fields? Logistics had to be terrible.
Jasson thought, I'm starting to see why Petra had us fly to Smill. These are in the lands controlled by the butcher baron, so how bad is it in other duchies?
But his train of thought left as soon as they rolled into the massive fields. The fields themselves did hold several other caravans. Yet, there seemed to be enough open space here to grow rations in a time of war, with more than ten football field sized parcels spread out in a rough square. The buildings of this city were built taller on average than in Stalt, even though the city was smaller. The height was used to make way for these fields, which then made merchants prioritize trade to the city.
In the dead center of this wide open space, past all the other caravans trying to get some sleep, curious lights grew and sparkled. Little individual lights of various colors, like a garden of fairies.
Jasson jumped as someone walked by. At first he thought they were on stilts, but then he saw long dangling arms and a pale face above. Jasson reached for his pocket, but then the stretched out man paused and waved, smiling with crooked teeth. The man did a little hop and spin, and Jasson caught sight of a couple of children scream-laughing while riding on his back. Then the man galloped toward the lights, and Jasson leaned out of the window to watch him disappear.
Jasson said, catching a glimpse of what lay ahead, "Slenderman piggyback ride- wow. Ok."
Music played on the air as crowds bustled, popcorn scented the air and a dozen brightly lit booths invited Jasson to try his luck. All of these led the eye to the massive striped tent in the middle of everything. Triple peaks held flags that waved in the dark, and grand letters pronounced itself to all.
The carnival is in town.
****
"Okay…" Jasson said, stopping in the crowd before the large shining tent, "This isn't period correct."
It was something ripped straight out the eighties, with bright garish colors and a vinyl…everything. Music rang from unknown sources and countless neon booths sported various improbable games and rigged smiles. The smell of cotton candy and roasted peanuts hung heavily in the air, and Jasson was holding a paper tub of popcorn. Jasson's change clinked in his pockets, and Jasson eyed the game booths. He'd pulled out around fifty gold, so he could afford anything he wanted.
"STEP RIGHT UP!" A hawkish man waved around a baton, "LET THE SHOW BEGIN!"
The crown surged and pressed in on Jasson, and he turned to the main attraction. Like a leaf on the river, Jasson drifted inside. The lights blinded him as someone sold tickets. Jasson's eyes focused on the pretty acrobat who smiled in front of him, holding a bag for money. There were half a dozen others lined up like guards before the entrance.
"One silver please," The woman fluttered her eyelashes, "Or more if you like."
The line grumbled behind Jasson, and he fished out his change from the popcorn. All coppers. What was the conversion rate? Jasson could feel the person behind him roll his eyes.
"Whatever," Jasson said and shoved the coppers away. He reached into his moneybag that he kept strapped around his waist and pulled out a gold coin.
He dropped that in the bag and said, "I'm paying for however many that will pay for."
"Of course sir," The woman lit up and stepped aside, "Thank you very much!"
Jasson stepped from the cramped entranceway and into the tent itself. Rows upon rows of wooden bleachers rose in an oval around three overlapping rings. In the middle of each ring, there was an opening act going on.
On the left, a series of props littered the space. Fake buildings, ladders, buckets of water. Dozens of clowns. One clown, with laughing clown makeup painted on his face, waved to those coming in. He was so enthusiastic, his hand flew off and hit the angry clown beside him. Then hijinks ensued, but Jasson's attention was stolen by the middle ring.
There were tight wires and acrobats doing warm-ups fifty feet up. Flips and twirls that stole Jasson's breath away. The unnatural way they moved occasionally glinted with magical crystals. But still…
Below the acrobats were the other performers of skill. Plate jugglers, contortionists, and strong men with their ilk. Things that still drew a kind of stunned amazement.
However, the strong men were nothing to write home about. Yes, they were impressive. Even for this world. But Clara's strength was of a supernatural sort that put them to shame. It would have been like a scene from Pippi Longstocking. Jasson turned to the final circle and felt his skin buzz. It was magnetic, this final circle.
Jasson was born in 2007. When Jasson was almost seven years old, Five Nights at Freddies had come out. Soon after that, his older brother Mykael was having some friends over for a sleepover. One of the friends had signed in to an older brother's game account. Jasson couldn't get any sleep for weeks.
He was obsessed.
Now here in this fantasy world, that itch was finally being scratched. Out of all the terrifying things he'd come across, none were actually…scary. Just deadly. But here, they had the ring of fear.
The ring was split into a higher and lower space. On a platform above, shackled and caged, were a dozen monsters that tickled at the edge of acceptability. Their frothing rapid bloodlust, the creaking of the cages, the magical monstrosities barely distracted from the ring below.
Where the freaks were.
That long limbed Slenderman had been the most human of the group. It was an uncanny valley filled with corn, ready to harvest. Dozens of people misshapen by the magical equivalent of radiation.
Some hid behind a fake house of wooden walls, long knifelike fingers reaching around to score the wood. Every once in a while you could catch a glimpse of black eyes or pale knife-like teeth.
Others simply walked among the crowd, causing jump scares or standing uncomfortably close. One of these started leaning in on Jasson as soon as he took his seat, single enormous eye blinking too slowly. The freak breathed heavily, breath pluming in the warm air. A glob of spit dripped on Jasson's arm.
"Oh, sorry," The performer said and pulled out a napkin, "There you go. Still want me here?"
"Nah," Jasson said, "I wanna take in the whole show."
The performer moved on, and Jasson saw him jump scare a teenage girl. The girl then laughed and tipped him a copper piece.
Dang it, Jasson thought, was I supposed to have tipped him?
"You there, in the black dress and fake jewelry," A voice said, loudly.
Jasson had been hearing this voice for a bit as it talked with the crowd, but the speaker had been on the other side of the platform. Now the speaker was rounding the platform, holding an air crystal apparatus, talking to the crowd.
It was a dwarf.
Not the fantasy type. The type with short arms and a free lawyer at a Disability Law Center. The type that was, in fact, not a freak. Not even an unfortunate individual. Just a man of differing lengths.
"Not you," the dwarf said, pointing into the crowd, "I'm talking to the occult one not the bimbo. Yeah, you. You look interesting. Do you do some magic."
The woman smiled and said, "I can tell someone something they did in the past."
"Cool, cool." The dwarf grinned, waving the audience to be quiet, "Could you tell me what I did a week ago?"
The woman hesitated, then said, "No. I don't like doing weeks. It's bad juju."
The dwarf raised his eyebrows and made a funny movement, the crowd laughed and the dwarf said, "Then how about yesterday?"
The woman blinked and said, "Give me something else."
The dwarf rolled his eyes and said, "How easy do you want this? What was I doing right before I walked around the corner? I'll give you a hint, it wasn't triple back flips."
The dwarf motioned like he was going to try and the crowd laughed. Jasson joined in. Then Jasson stopped himself. Was he laughing at a dwarf? This didn't count, right?
His gut twisted, unsure. But Jasson knew how to make people happy. He would have to buy some merch.
Jasson pointed his phone at the dwarf and started recording, then looked around. The other events were so much, even his Subway-Skater Gen-Alpha-brain was having trouble keeping up. And on the edges was a tall man with a dark mustache and shining top hat. The ringmaster, looking over his show. Glaring at the dwarf with absolute hatred.
That's weird, Jasson thought, who could hate a comedian?