Carnival Souls

Hand Made

           

After three days of brainstorming, Owen and Jacks had turned up with nothing. There were no lightning strikes of revelation or epiphany. Just a black wall of broiling clouds threatening to rain down the ashes of speculations they couldn't even form into full ideas. They bounced thoughts off each other as they shoveled hay and manure in the barn, keeping their voices low, but each one seemed more of a stretch than the last.

"Maybe the carousel can time travel. If it can go back and forth between worlds it must be able to do that too," suggested Jacks.

Owen shook his head as he set the empty wheel barrow down with a clang and picked up a shovel. "The riddle says 'in' the carousel. That has to mean a clue is hidden in the ride itself. Even if can time-travel, I don't think Zabaria wants us messing around with the space-time continuum."

Jacks' forehead pinched. He picked up a pail of water and dumped it into an empty trough, the metal singing. "What if it means in the way it was made. How it was built. Genzel didn't have any ideas?" he asked.

Asking Genzel had crossed Owen's mind, of course, but something was holding him back. Perhaps it was residual suspicion from Lira getting the best of him, or maybe he was trying to keep the old man out of hot water with his daughter, but something was holding his tongue. His face must've been easy to read because Jacks said in a voice sheened with disbelief, "You mean you haven't even asked the guy who made the thing?"

Owen hadn't told Jacks everything Genzel had revealed that night by the lake and he wasn't about to go into the complicated family history, so he just shrugged his shoulders. "I was hoping I wouldn't have to involve him anymore."

The tines of the pitchfork rang against the stone floor as Jacks leaned on the handle. "In case you haven't noticed, we've hit a big, fat wall. I'm over here suggesting time travel and you haven't asked one question of the guy who literally made the carousel from scratch. He could probably tell you in five seconds what that riddle means."

"I'll bring it up tomorrow," conceded Owen. He picked up the full wheel barrow and lumbered away.

As luck would have it, the next time Owen went to work with Genzel it was on the carousel. The old man had finally taken his sling off the day before and, though he guarded his shoulder and was slow in his movements, he was able to use both his arms and his temperament had improved considerably.

Which isn't saying much, thought Owen. Genzel still barked like an old dog suffering from fleas and arthritis, but at least his whole focus wasn't concentrated on Owen anymore.

"Be exceedingly careful," warned Genzel as Owen set the ladder on the ground in front of the ride. "This wood is very old. Very hard to work with. And the paint is made from ingredients that'er tricky to find. Move slow and try not to ruin anything."

"I'll just move like you," Owen joked, making a show of moving like a stooped old man, arms and legs stiff. Genzel squinted darkly, his bearded chin jutting out in disapproval. He thrusted a screwdriver at Owen.

"Just for that, you're going to be doing all the heavy manual labor."

"Wasn't I going to be doing that anyway?" asked Owen. He hoisted the ladder up onto the wooden platform.

"Yes," said Genzel. "Good to see yer learning"

Owen rolled his eyes and propped open the ladder where Genzel instructed. They were attaching new harness chains to the ceiling so that they could add the two new carousel horses. Now that the outer row had reached its maximum of seven mounts, they were to begin a second row on the inner circle of the ride.