The Nine Bishops

Sam came back late in the night, as he usually did. He was trying to be as quiet as possible but knocked over a small circus hurdle Mika had left in his path. Mika lay silently in bed, pretending to be asleep as Sam muttered some foul language under his breath.

She heard him set some things on their makeshift dining table—a wardrobe flipped on its backside. They sounded heavy and flat, like a few books, Mika thought happily.

Sam was struggling to light a candle on the floor, dropping his matchbox in the dark and muttering a few more words he’d forbidden Mika from saying, evidently believing she was asleep.

But Mika could never sleep when she knew he was coming home from one of his trips. She missed him and always anticipated seeing the books he brought back with him, always carefully chosen to provide the education she’d need to someday go into service with a mages’ guild.

They were much nicer than they could afford to buy, though she couldn’t believe Sam would ever resort to stealing them—theft being one of the things he had always lectured against. Any Filth caught stealing from a mage would be sure to face branding, and she couldn’t believe that, after everything they’d been through, Sam would take such a chance. Their future rested on working for a guild and building a better life.

When she asked where he’d obtained the books, Sam always replied “Castle Vania!” with a big grin.

Finally, he managed to get the candle lighted, and used it to sneak up to Mika. But before he got the chance to surprise her, she suddenly turned and spooked him. He fell backward and, laughing, said, “Mika, don’t do that! I thought you were fast asleep.”

“Sorry, I couldn’t help myself. You were awfully loud when you got here. Plus, you know I can’t sleep when I know you are coming back,” she said, laughing as she got out of bed to embrace her shaken uncle. They held the hug for a long moment. Once the embrace was over, Sam pulled Mika forward and took a long look at her.

Mika was always comforted by Sam’s warm features. His calming brown eyes and round cheeks reminded her of the stuffed teddy bear Bella had stitched for her when she was a child. Now Mika valued the embrace of her teddy bear of an uncle.

“How did Esteban treat you?” asked Sam.

“The same as he usually does, a few lashes here and there,”

Mika sarcastically replied.

“That’s not funny. I’m serious,” Sam said in the sternest tone he could muster, drawing another grin from Mika.

“Don’t worry about me. He was fine—the same pitiful self he always is. And you know I’m smart enough not to do anything rash while you’re gone,” Mika said, as genuinely as she could.

“That’s exactly why I’m worried. You are sometimes too smart for your own good. I just worry about you when I’m gone. In any case, I am glad to see you’re okay,” Sam said with relief.

“What about you? You’ve been gone too long!”

Sam was an invaluable asset to Esteban, the main reason his shows sold so well to the Filth. His trips took him to various towns to advertise the show weeks in advance. He was great at promotion, and since he made Esteban money, the ringmaster was less inclined to be cruel to him, despite delivering the occasional smack of the whip when he found himself disagreeing with Sam’s views on something, just to keep him in his place.

One time, Esteban had tried to prove a point and conducted his own advances. But they were an utter failure. He never admitted that Sam was better at the job, but he quietly gave him his job back. Sam’s value to Esteban was the reason Mika had never received a good lashing, though there were times when she would have merited it, had she been any other Filth’s daughter.

“All that matters is that it was the last time,” Sam said. “It won’t be long until we can put this part of our lives behind us.”

So he’s ready to go through with it, Mika thought with a thrill. She’d been afraid her uncle had only been telling her what she wanted to hear to keep her quiet. It also seemed now that Sam really would tell Mika about her parents when they started Home.

“So, what did you bring from the castle this time?” Mika asked, changing the subject. Sam smiled; Mika had beaten him to his favorite punchline.

“Hmmm, nothing special. Just three books.”

From his satchel on the table, he pulled out two tattered books and one small book with a wooden cover. The titles on the worn spines were faded but still unmistakable to Mika’s keen eyes.

A wave of excitement flowed over her as she read the titles: Who are the Nine Bishops?, The War Eagles: The Best Guild in Seemos, and How to Use Magic. The books were exactly the kind she’d been asking for, though until now Sam had refused to bring them.

Most mages would not care for these books, but Mika was fascinated by them. The tattered book with the Bishops title was really a children’s book of no more than thirty pages. Nonetheless, Mika could hardly contain her excitement. Despite her lack of affection for mages, the Bishops fascinated her. Everything she’d heard about them and their powers was remarkable. Mika had always wanted to know more, but her aunt and uncle had insisted it was unimportant, so she knew only the bare minimum—and rumor. She hoped this book would fulfill her curiosity about their appearance, accomplishments, and the capabilities of their magic.

The book about the War Eagles also got her excited, but for a different reason. It was a review of the history of the War Eagles guild, which had consistently been deemed the best mages’ guild in Seemos. This was more of an editorial than a book, but Mika thought it was perfect. Of all the mages’ guilds in Home, Mika wanted most to join the War Eagles.

Finally, there was a small wooden book titled How to Use Magic. It was a bedtime story meant for toddlers. It had ten thick pages that Mika could finish in about one minute. Even though the book held no real relevance to her, since Filth were not born with magic nor would ever be able to learn it, it was a departure from the books Sam usually brought her.

Typically, Sam brought her educational texts, not books to read for pleasure, which is what these were to her. In fact, Sam had forbidden Mika from reading anything about magic. He’d always snapped at her as a child for even asking about magic. Once she got older, Mika understood this was for her protection. Magic was only a dream and would never be more than a dream for her. Mika wanted to thank him, but at first she was speechless.

“It may seem silly to you, Uncle Sam,” she said after a long moment, tears welling in her eyes, “but these are the best books you’ve ever brought me.” She hugged him again, harder.

“You’re probably thinking: Why now?” Sam said, as though reading her mind. “Well, think of it as a graduation gift. I’m just glad you like them.”

He released Mika and added: “I think it’s about time we both get some sleep. It’s nearly two, I reckon. Both of us have a big day tomorrow.”

Mika nodded and laid down. But excitement kept her awake most of the night. Thoughts of the future raced through her head until she finally fell into a dreamless slumber.

After what felt like ten minutes, Sam woke her. He was preparing breakfast over the fire pit in the shack.

“Hope you are hungry. I made a special treat for our last show,” he explained over a sizzling skillet. Mika was still groggy, but of her awaking senses, smell came first.

“What’s that aroma? It smells amazing,” Mika said eagerly. She had never smelled anything so good in her life, and the unfamiliar scent was making her mouth water.

“Is that … bacon?” Mika asked, shocked to see the strips of pork Sam had in the pan. Some things were simply an unaffordable luxury to the Filth, including bacon and most meat in general. This meal would cost the equivalent of a month’s wages.

A better-than-average Filth breakfast typically consisted of potatoes with an egg, but never meat. A good dinner consisted of potatoes and soup, generally a broth filled with vegetables and a bone if you were lucky; sometimes there were bits of meat on the bone if it was a truly fantastic dinner.

Three meals a day was almost unheard of. If a Filth ate three times in a day, it was either because the food had been stolen from somewhere and had to be eaten quickly to hide the evidence, or they were celebrating a big event, like a wedding. Mika couldn’t remember the last time she’d eaten a third meal in a single day.

“I figured we’d celebrate with something special. Nothing better to start off a new journey than a great breakfast,” Sam said, as he picked a few pieces of bacon off the cast-iron skillet he had placed over their tiny fire pit.

“While I’m excited about the journey and all, don’t you think this is a bit much?” Mika asked, worried about the cost. She watched her uncle’s every move with the bacon. As much as Sam tried to spoil her, this was an extravagance, even for him. Regardless, with the mouthwatering aroma, Mika couldn’t help but look forward to trying the bacon.

“Nonsense. This is an important moment for the both of us. Let’s savor the moment with a great meal,” Sam said, as he handed Mika a plate with the potatoes and bacon. As much as she had planned to eat the bacon slowly, to make it last, it was gone in a matter of seconds. Mika thought it was perfectly cooked, though she had no idea what perfectly cooked bacon was supposed to taste like. Nonetheless, it was the best thing she had eaten in her life. She could not believe that mages had this almost every morning.

“Well, it looks like you enjoyed it,” Sam said, smiling at the rapturous look on Mika’s face. “Now that we have food in our bellies, we can talk about what the plan is for after the show.”

Little else had been on Mika’s mind since he’d arrived home last night. It was what had kept her awake.

While she was excited about what came next, it also made her uneasy. They had only talked about minor details for their trip Home. It had always seemed to be in the distant future, but the future was now the present. Mika and Sam were going Home in just a few days’ time.

“Let’s see if you remember the plan,” Sam said, asking a question more than making a statement. Mika thought it through again. They had already completed all the long-term prerequisites: first, that Mika be educated, which had already taken more than ten years of intensive study and was ongoing. Mika had come to the circus when she was six, but didn’t start a rigorous academic routine until she was eight. By now, she had nearly enough education to be accepted into a mages’ guild as a mage. Except of course that she would not be entering as a mage, but as a servant. The guilds needed Filth to do the practical work.

Second, they had to save enough money for their travels Home. Mika earned only three bronze a day, which she turned over to Sam to hide. She had not spent any of her pitiful salary for the past two years. Her uncle had worked out a deal with Esteban to cover their housing and meal expenses, and that was his only salary.

While it may not have seemed like much, Sam had thought things through well. Her uncle was smart; he had worked out the numbers and found that they would be able to save more this way than if he had taken a salary of five bronze a day. Overall, Mika and Sam were able to save more coin his plan than a salary, a fact that eluded Esteban. Combined with the few lost coins they had found over the years, they had amassed ten silver saved, one silver being worth one hundred bronze. In Filth terms, they had accumulated a small fortune.

With all that coin saved, Mika and Sam would be able to buy enough provisions for three weeks of travel to get Home. Fortunately, the trip was supposed to take only two weeks. Since prices inflated the farther north or east they would travel, they needed a buffer to keep them going for a few days once they got Home. Sam told Mika it would take roughly three days to get accepted into a mages’ guild that had openings. There, they could make over thirty bronze a day and would be able to live more comfortably.

Lastly, Mika had to be eighteen, the age of entry to be in a guild. That was just the law, for Filth and mages alike. By the time they arrived Home, Mika would be of age.

The final hurdle was the journey there.

“So, after the final performance, we will speak to no one,” Sam said, reminding her of the details. “The mages will likely celebrate their earnings with drink at the local mages’ tavern. That gives us at least twenty-four hours to be gone before they are sober enough to know that we have already left. By then we should already be gone, packing only what we can carry on our back. If we travel hard for three days, even through the nights, we can make it to the Low Road. There we will be able to make safe passage Home.

“The trip will not be entirely safe, though. There will likely be many thieves and bandits on the Low Road. We absolutely have to stay vigilant and near groups, ideally travel with a caravan. If all goes smoothly, we should be Home in two weeks—”

“Where we will go apply to serve in a mages’ guild,” Mika finished his sentence, as if she was reading off a manuscript. She’d been daydreaming about the trip for weeks while at work; all the details were firmly committed to memory.

Sam nodded, then asked Mika a few questions to test her.

“Why is it so important that we leave so suddenly after the show?”

“Because it is against the law for Filth to leave the mage they are serving if the mage that they are serving doesn’t sign them a writ of approval. Esteban refuses to sign one for us because of how valuable you are to him. If we don’t make it to the Low Road quickly, Hunters will be looking for us.”

Another nod.

“And why must we take the Low Road?”

Dumb question, Mika thought. “Because only mages can travel on the High Road.”

Sam smiled. “I never taught you that. That question was just to see if you had been doing your homework. You seem to know enough, but I just want to remind you we are leaving on the third and final night of the performances, and not tonight.”

Mika knew they weren’t leaving today because it was Fifth. Performances always started on Fifths and ran through the evenings of Sixths and Sevenths. The mages would always get drunk after the final performance on Sevenths and still be hung over by the time Firsts rolled around. Firsts were the Filths’ only day off. The Filth in Esteban’s circus worked hard hours all day, from Seconds to Sevenths.

Leaving on the Seventh would give them the most time possible to get away unnoticed. It would be Second before anyone realized they were gone.

At that point, Esteban would probably inform the Hunters of his rogue Filth. Mika and Sam wouldn’t have a lot of time to make it to the Low Road once the Hunters were looking for them. Hunters had magic that was well-suited to tracking others, and the Low Road, a route designated solely for the Filth, was the only place they would not search. There, the conditions were too harsh and mages outright avoided it due to the dense swamps and forests; finding Mika and Sam there would be nigh impossible. They needed to make it to the Low Road in a little less than two days, and once there, they would be as safe as they could be on their way Home.

“Come now, clean up. It’s time to prepare for the show. I think we’ve indulged ourselves enough. We need to do a good job so Esteban doesn’t suspect a thing,” Sam finished, as he gathered his things together.

Mika silently agreed and started cleaning up the shack. Her uncle always left earlier than she did to report to Esteban, so she usually took charge of straightening things up.

He’s right, Mika thought. They had a lot of work to do before it was the Seventh, and they had to take it one day at a time. Mika got ready to go work, checking one last time to be sure the books were hidden in the secret compartment in her bed. Her aunt had stitched it together years ago, so even opening the compartment reminded Mika of her beloved Bella.

Mika was the youngest person working for Esteban, but was mature for her age. She was never late and always did good work. She had built good relationships with the Filth she worked with, even though the closest to her in age was fourteen years older. They were good people born to the wrong families, which was true of all the Filth.

It took her only a few minutes to traverse the circus grounds to the main tent, passing by animal cages and storage spaces that held most of the props used in the performances. On her way into the tent, Mika blindly turned a corner into someone exiting.

It was the Jackal.

“How dare you touch me, Filth,” the Jackal said, spitting in Mika’s direction. She was furious, but she held her tongue and stood back, with her head bent down in apology. Mika knew he had no business exiting this side of the tent, as it was the one exclusive entrance for the Filth. Mika was afraid that he might strike her, but for some odd reason he was in a rush and left her standing there awkwardly for a while, before she decided it was safe to continue inside. Lucky this time, Mika thought.

She always felt a little tiny inside the massive main tent, built of red-and-white striped canvas and capable of seating over four thousand Filth spectators. Massive candles on wooden posts lit up the interior, which featured one middle ring surrounded by four thousand seats. There were holding areas on opposite sides; one section was reserved for the mages to practice their performances, the other for the Filth workers to facilitate prop and performance transitions.

In total, thirty Filth served Esteban. They outnumbered the mages in the circus by six times, but did fifty times the work. All the mages needed to do was practice their routines, which was relatively easy, since their magic was their routine, and none of it particularly spectacular. Esteban, as Ringmaster, was the only mage who did not use magic in the performances.

Of course, there was the Jackal, who walked around with his chest puffed out, often tossing garbage to the ground and expecting the Filth to pick it up. If they hesitated, he’d fabricate a story for Esteban that the Filth were littering his circus—which always set Esteban off and led to someone getting a lashing. That was one of many reasons the Filth loathed Jackal.

In one corner of the practice area, Mika spotted the mage nicknamed Mr. Strong repeatedly tossing an anvil as though it were a big ball. He was a large, bald man who always wore cut-off sleeves. A dumb brute, he utilized magic to strengthen his muscle. His nickname was a perfect fit, because he had the strength of a small ox. In his performances, he would throw things to demonstrate his strength.

Checking on water bowls in the cages was Zaxby, Esteban’s animal master. He had a long, twirling black moustache and thick eyebrows, and he always added extra syllables to words, giving him an exotic accent. His magic was essentially a weak form of animal control, using domesticated animals, mainly dogs and horses, that were already obedient to humans. The Filth spent a lot of time grooming and feeding the animals between performances. Zaxby had only the ability to control them more easily than non-magical trainers and got them to perform some impressive tricks.

Candleman, the pyrotechnic, was slumped in a chair in a dim alcove, taking a nap. A balding man nearing forty, he wore thick glasses and had a low-hanging belly. He ensured interesting lighting for the performances. Leveraging fire magic, he could alter the color of any flames.

Looking up, Mika spied, floating in the upper reaches of the tent, the last and eldest mage in Esteban’s circus, the Great Danton, who was approaching sixty, had a white beard, and always wore a bandana. The Great Danton could alter the weight of his body and levitate by making himself lighter than air. He served as the circus acrobatics expert.

The Filth had no role in any of the performances, but acted solely as circus hands. They would clean the sets, feed the animals, and set up for performances. It took a lot of work and a lot of maintenance to make sure each act was perfect. If one of the mages made a mistake during practice, the Filth would get the blame, leading to a beating or lashing from Esteban. If the error happened during a performance, the lashings were more severe.

Mika had spent the whole day prior to the performance finishing placement of the stage for the investors who were expected. She moved the stage closer to the center of the main performing floor, trying, per Esteban’s instructions, to keep it as far from the Filth as possible, but still leaving plenty of room for the performance. The request was impossible to fulfill perfectly because there was simply not room for both. Mika had to balance Esteban’s expectations and the reality of her situation to avoid undeserved punishment. The fact that Mika had never messed up during a performance meant she had very few scars compared to her colleagues.

When she got to her position for roll call, she was the third Filth there, despite her unfortunate run-in with the Jackal. Esteban always took roll after his morning meeting with the mages, and this was especially important on a performance day. Sam stood near Esteban and the other mages because he had just finished his meeting with them. He was the only Filth treated anything close to an equal because of the profit he brought the circus.

Esteban, his chest puffed out and his whip slung over his shoulder, watched the remaining Filth come in. Apparently impatient to get started, he started to call roll about twenty minutes early. A few people were still coming in and ran to join the line. Each Filth had his or her own assigned spot, so that it was obvious when someone was missing. When he finished, Esteban was scowling. Max and Shelly, a married couple who’d just had a child, weren’t there yet. Normally reliable and always on time, they’d had a lot to manage with a newborn. When they scurried into the tent, worried frowns on their faces, Mika’s internal clock said they still had eight minutes to spare.

“You are late,” said Esteban, veins popping in his neck. No one said a thing, though everyone knew he was wrong. The Filth always started the day at the same time, and the Filth couple was actually there early.

“We are sorry, sir, we had trouble with the child this morning,” Max said, as respectfully as possible. Max was not educated, but he was no fool. He knew he was on time, but he would not argue with a mage. That would have just made things worse.

“You don’t seem to understand what I have told you Filth about this performance. We are having some fine ladies and gentlemen come tonight who are thinking about expanding the show. This is a lot bigger than your worthless child,” Esteban retorted.

Esteban looked at Sam and asked, “What is the punishment for tardiness, Filth?”

Sam, trying to conceal his own anger at Esteban, answered coldly, “Two lashes, sir.”

“That’s right, two lashes,” Esteban responded with a smile.

Almost instantly, Max was bound to a post, with his back bare. Mika couldn’t bear to look at Shelly, but she could hear Max’s wife crying as she watched her husband take the punishment for both of them.

“Our tardy friend here offered to take both his Filth wife’s lashings and his own. What a model circus hand,” said a jolly Esteban as he unraveled the whip and began playing with it. In the blink of an eye, Esteban had trained his whip onto Max’s back.

Max’s screams of pain made Mika sick to her stomach. Watching lashings always made her feel ill, but all of the Filth were required to watch. Esteban said that whoever was being lashed was to be an example to everyone. Though Mika kept her eyes down, she could count the number of lashes with her ears. One… two… three… four. Mika counted each crack of the whip.

Just like that, it was over. Shelly seemed to be in more pain than her husband. Blood riddled Max’s back after Esteban had added four more scars to the many already there. The chivalrous Max had more scars than most, since he always took Shelly’s punishment for her.

“Let this be a lesson to you Filth. This is an important show, and I will have no one ruin it for us. Get him cleaned up and back to work,” Esteban said over his shoulder as he walked away to rejoin his posse of mages.

Mika exchanged a look with Sam, whose face reflected his sympathy for Max. But this was no time for wasted tears. They were almost out of there. There was no reason for any defiance, especially now.

In the hours leading up to the performance, Mika and the rest of the Filth kept quiet. Esteban was on edge, and people were afraid Max and Shelly would not be the last to be punished without cause.

Time passed quickly as final preparations were completed. The mages were early getting into their uniforms for the show, and Esteban was preoccupied with his three special guests. Mika quickly found out why the Jackal had been in a rush earlier. He was the one tasked with escorting the visitors and had given them a private tour before showing them to their seats on the special platform Mika had set up. She never caught a glimpse of their faces herself, but word came down that they were middle-class mages more skilled with their investments than their magic.

The regular attendees were also arriving. Mika had been so lost in her work that she hadn’t noticed the swift passage of time. She was on edge, knowing she was only two days away from escaping Esteban and the circus. But there had been no incidents after the morning tardiness.

The house was packed, as Mika’s uncle had promised. Nearly five thousand patrons had arrived, the biggest number of attendees since the days when Aunt Bella was performing. The seats were filled completely, leaving late-comers to occupy the ample standing-room area. The atmosphere inside the tent was hectic and deafening.

Mika stood in the holding area with the other Filth, ready for the transitions, which required setting up and breaking down each part of the spectacle. Turnaround times had to be fast and the setup flawless to please Esteban.

Mika’s uncle was usually operating the box office during the show, and they typically didn’t see each other until the second half of a performance.

Esteban, in his outlandish ringmaster outfit, made his opening remarks, introduced his honored guests with a flourish, and started the show. It was a typical performance, and Mika did all of her tasks with the other Filth well. Mr. Strong, Zaxby, and the Great Danton finished their acts, leaving just one to go: the Jackal’s. His act called for twirling two batons doused in fire, with assistance from Candleman, whose role involved altering the color of the flames on the batons. Ultimately, their combined efforts created a juggling act and light show in one.

There was still no sign of Sam when the act started. Such a packed house, he’s probably still busy at the front office, Mika thought. The act turned out to be a lot more taxing on Candleman than he had originally promised Esteban. As the batons twirled, Candleman had to focus very hard on his magic. He had to manage the house lights and Jackal’s baton flames at the same time. He’d attempted to add extra elements to the light show Jackal was performing. He wanted to dim the house lights and brighten the baton flames.

When Candleman altered the color of the house lights, he temporarily lost control of the baton flames, and vice versa. At one point, the house lights were so dim they were almost black.

One limitation of Candleman’s magic was that he could not change the color of a black flame. As she watched, Mika realized something was wrong. Candleman was trying to do too much at once, given his limitations: balance the flames on Jackal’s batons and the house lights at the same time. What happened next was exactly what Esteban was trying to avoid.

Candleman compensated by adding too much bright color to the batons. Now much brighter than Jackal had anticipated, they temporarily blinded him. Stunned by the light, he lost control of one of the batons, which spun out of control through the air and landed right on the guest platform that Mika had positioned in front of his performance. The platform caught fire, and the three guest mages leapt up in a panic. Fortunately, one of the mages was able to use a weak form of water magic and doused the flames before they could do serious harm to them and the platform.

Hands over their hearts and mumbling to each other, the guest mages swiftly fled the tent. After the baton flames were doused, Candleman was able to get the house lights back to normal condition. The Filth in the seats began to chatter loudly in astonishment at the scene.

Mika, on the other hand, felt herself trembling. She knew there would be consequences, but she wasn’t sure what. She looked around for her uncle in panic, but he was nowhere to be found. Mika then saw Esteban storm to the middle of the stage.

“I’m sorry, ladies and gentlemen, due to some difficulties, tonight’s show will be ending early,” he said as loudly and calmly as he could, his face grim. There was no mistaking his fury, though he tried to hide it with showmanship. Normally he would have waited until everyone was gone to yell at the Filth, but this was the angriest Mika had ever seen him.

Esteban looked towards the holding area, where all of the Filth were watching him in fear. His face was beet red.

“Who set that stage up?” Esteban screamed towards the Filth in the holding area.

Some people in the crowd, already on their feet and on their way out after Esteban’s first announcement, suddenly stood still, waiting to see what would unfold. Most of the others hurried out of the tent, feeling it better not to be in the same place as an angry mage.

Esteban pointed to the stage Mika had set up and screamed his question again, even louder. It could not have been in a better spot, based on Esteban’s criteria. Nor was it the first time she had done it. This is not my fault. It is entirely Jackal and Candleman’s fault, Mika thought in frustration. Despite the truth, Mika knew she would be the one to answer for what had happened. Everything was going perfectly. Why did this have to happen? she thought, starting to panic.

She stood silently, frozen in thought. She could feel the tiny hairs on her skin rising. To make things worse, Esteban had a direct line of sight to her. She was the closest Filth to him, and not standing behind anyone. She could feel all eyes gravitating to her. All the workers knew Mika had set up the stage and would now have to answer for the flame fiasco.

“Whoever set up this stage, step forward!” Esteban screamed, his spittle flying. Mika could see him puffing, as he paced back and forth lividly.

Mika felt heavy, so heavy she didn’t think she could move. But she had to; any hesitation would just mean a more severe punishment. Mika had never received a severe lashing, and she was scared. She was taking a deep breath and was about to step forward when she felt someone brush past her.

Sam walked past Mika, straight to Esteban, and looked directly into his face, their eyes meeting. Esteban’s chest was heaving. Mika didn’t know if Esteban knew she was responsible, but she knew her uncle did. She was paralyzed. What is he doing? She wanted to move, but she could not.

“I set that stage up,” Sam said, proudly and without hesitation. He’s not going to let Esteban intimidate him, Mika thought. Or hurt me. The way Sam had said it, so confident and convincing, Mika herself almost believed him. But why is he lying for me? Even Esteban knows that he didn’t set up the stage.

Esteban looked at the circus mages, who were standing not far off to the side. “Zaxby, go get me the branding irons you use on your animals,” he said to the mage.

A moment of hesitation flickered over Zaxby’s face.

“Go get me that iron,” he said, more ruthlessly. Zaxby did not hesitate the second time and ran to get it.

Esteban motioned towards Mr. Strong. He nodded, then grabbed Sam behind the arms and held him fast.

Mika felt a scream escape her lips, but it wasn’t loud enough for anyone to hear because her throat had clenched in fear. She made a move towards the mages and her uncle, but someone behind her had grabbed her. Mika looked back to see that it was Max grasping her around the waist. She tried to break from his grip, but Max wouldn’t let her go.

“Stop. Don’t make things worse for the two of you. He is protecting you,” Max muttered into her ear. Mika already knew in her heart what was about to happen.

Zaxby returned with the branding iron and handed it to Esteban. As Esteban held the iron, it started to glow red-hot at the end, another applicable use of Esteban’s mediocre magic.

Sam didn’t struggle. It would not have done him much good anyway, with Mr. Strong holding him. Esteban made a motion and turned Mika’s uncle around so he was facing everyone.

“I told you this was a special show, and this Filth decided to ruin it for everyone. Now watch him become an example for the rest of you!”

The house had not cleared out entirely, and there were a hundred or so Filth still watching in horror. Esteban looked at Candleman and Jackal, who were standing next to each other.

“Which one of you men would like to administer the punishment to the man who ruined your performance?” Esteban asked, smirking.

Candleman looked away, refusing to make eye contact with Esteban or the man whose life he had essentially ended. Candleman knew he was the reason Sam was about to be branded. The Jackal, on the other hand, returned the smirk with one of his own.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he said arrogantly. He picked up the red-hot iron in the air with his magic. It floated toward Sam, bright embers gleaming off the end.

Esteban nodded to Jackal, and he began to move the iron closer to the spot on Sam’s face he had chosen. Sam fixed his eyes on Mika, who could not bear to watch. One might think that as the poker got closer to Sam’s face, the air would begin to feel hotter, but oddly it felt colder. In fact, everyone in the room began to feel a chill.

All, that is, except Mika. If anything, she was warmer. She could only feel a boiling rage as she watched the imminent branding of her uncle. However, as the seconds passed, the temperature continued to drop significantly. The Filth in the room, as well as Esteban’s men, began to shiver in what seemed like intolerable, numbing cold. Max’s grip on Mika loosened as he felt the need to hold himself for warmth.

Zaxby, the Great Danton, and the Candleman took a step back from the rest of the mages. Numb too, they were no longer watching the branding, their eyes turned to what seemed to be the source of the coldness. Esteban savored the moment with tunnel vision as the Jackal pressed the hot branding iron onto Sam’s left cheek. But Mika’s uncle, who remained focused on Mika, disappointed both of the mages by not even flinching at the pain.

Immediately after branding Sam, Jackal dropped the iron on the ground, and Strong stopped holding Sam. If that looked intentional to Esteban, it was only because he’d been blinded by his desire for revenge; all he cared about was seeing the look of horror on the faces of the Filth. So it took him a moment to realize that their gaze had been deflected from the branding.

The only person not horrified by it all was Sam, who, despite having just received the worst possible punishment, looked ecstatic. An onlooker might have thought he had just won ten thousand platinum, or that he was seeing something different than the others. But Sam, the Filth, and the mages were now all looking at the same thing: Mika.

Everyone still in the tent was shivering violently. All of them, that is, except for the circus mages. They would have been shivering had they not literally been completely frozen solid.

Sam’s wide-eyed smile and the terrified gazes of the now frozen Esteban and circus mages were fixed on the one thing had changed about Mika. Her eyes had changed from a soft creamy brown to an icy pale blue.