Carnival Souls

Small Talk

           

The journey back to the carnival was as uneventful and nearly as silent as the first leg of their journey to the river. Owen and Lira plodded along in a haze of exhaustion while the injured Genzel road atop the uninjured kelpie who followed Lira like a particularly devoted dog with little guidance from the lead rope.

She suspected the injured chestnut stallion was only following because they held the black mare and because its shoulder prevented it from making an escape. Lira didn't know if the injury mattered or not for the purpose of Genzel's carousel horses; she didn't care, all she wanted was her bed. It was strange to feel a sense of relief wash over her as the crenulated tent tops came into view.

It's only because I know what to expect here, she told herself. The group picked their way down the slope toward the carnival where Atlas and Jacks met them halfway. Jacks wordlessly took the guide rope from Lira and began leading the horse and injured carver in the direction of the paddocks. The black horse glanced over its shoulder at Lira but allowed Jacks to lead her away. Owen followed, towing the second horse, meeting Lira's eyes only once.

"We'll talk later," his gaze said.

They left Atlas and Lira to continue together in the direction of the funhouse.

"I see you were successful," said Atlas after several minutes. She was in her usual white tunic, walking barefoot through the dead grass.  Though Lira didn't envy her unprotected feet scraping against the cutting stalks, she found she was looking forward to removing her boots.

"You could say that," said Lira, glancing at the retreating forms of the others.

Their conversation with Zabaria came rushing back along with the questions the reigning forest spirit had thrown at them rather than answers. She longed to confide in Atlas about her fears for her trapped soul, but she knew she couldn't without admitting they had found Zabaria.

"What did you think of the spirit world outside the carnival?" asked Atlas. There was no probing or suspicion in her voice. Just mild curiosity.

"Just as confusing as inside the carnival."

Atlas gave a musical laugh. "It has that effect on you. It takes some getting used to."

"And do you get used to it?" asked Lira.

"More or less. I assume it's very like the human world. Learn as you go."

Not the human world. Our world, thought Lira. "What was it like the first time you left?" she asked instead. She knew Atlas wouldn't answer anything too direct about her duties, but abstract inquiries were usually okay.

"Very much like the first time I had to carry a message for my father. Dark and intimidating. Here though, I am protected. Bebinn's name keeps me safe on journeys where my father's name could not."

Protected was never a word Lira would use in terms of Bebinn, but she could understand why Atlas might feel that way. They came from two very different lives.

"I know you don't want to go back," said Lira, choosing her words carefully. "But what if things could be different? You don't have to go back to your family if you return. You could start a new life."

"What is there for me in the human world that I don't have here?" asked Atlas. Her tone was light, not interrogational. Lira wondered if it was a rhetorical question. Atlas was speaking like the idea was abstract, a fantasy.

"Freedom?" ventured Lira.

"We are not prisoners here, Lira," said Atlas, sweeping out her arm. "I know it feels that way to you, but Bebinn can be very understanding if you give her a chance." She held up a hand as Lira opened her mouth. "You fight her at every turn. I know she can be a bit—overbearing—but if you prove yourself to her, she will relax her hold."