City of Baraboo

NINE

Tyli Strang opened her eyes, then closed them against the day's endless run of uninspiring work. She turned her slight frame onto her left shoulder and pulled the thermo-sheets up to her ears. It was always the same: get dressed, hurry through the morning frost to the cow shed, monitor the milking and feeding banks, program the estate control for the day's operation, then back to the house for Aunt Diva's version of a wholesome breakfast. By the time she had choked down the last patty of soycake drenched in soy-syrup, Ennivaat, the planet Doldra's sun, would be peeking over the horizon.

Uncle Chaine would then make his appearance, a thin graying beard hiding an alcohol-reddened face, and the day's chores would begin in earnest. Repair the dungchuck, monitor the sludge pool, fodder out for the herd, don't forget to wrap the expeller pipes to keep the separated milk from freezing, wood for the house, shovel off the old compost, we're trying a new formula this year—and so on, and so on.

Tyli snuggled into the covers, cursing whatever it was that had awakened her. She tried to drive her mind blank, praying that sleep would return her to her dreams. A clank from outside of the window marked the end of her prayers. Throwing back the covers, she sat up and looked through the window to see Emile Schone's freckled face peering from beneath a cloth hood and muff. Tyli pushed open the window, bracing herself against the icy draft. "What do you think you're doing, Em? I don't have to get up for another hour."

Emile grinned, displaying gaps where his front teeth had departed in preparation for his second set. "The circus, Tyli. It's here."

"So what?" Tyli grimaced at her friend, then shrugged. The night's sleep was a lost cause. "Where are they?"

Emile turned and pointed away from the window. Tyli craned her neck to look in the direction indicated by her friend's ungloved finger. In the distance, across the fence marking the limit of Uncle Chaine's property, silhouetted against the dull orange of the morning sky, were the wagons. Drivers, their collars turned up against the cold, hunched their shoulders against the night. The massive Percherons pulling the wagons shot out clouds of steam, as their heavy hooves clopped against the frozen ground. The markings on the wagons were still invisible, but everyone on Doldra under the age of twenty knew what was painted there: "O'Hara's Greater Shows—The Great One."

"C'mon, Tyli. They'll be gone soon."

Tyli turned from the window, and felt in the dark for her leggings and underwear. She pulled them on, shot her arms into her lined shirt, then stuffed her feet into her boots and zipped them up. Stuffing in her shirt, she reached to the back of the door and removed her parka. As soon as the sun broke the horizon, it would be too warm for the coat, but until then, it was needed. She sealed the seam on the parka, stood on the bed and pushed open the window. Placing her hands on the sill, she vaulted over the sill, coming to a stop on the frozen soil. She reached up and pulled the window shut. "Let's go."

The two ran to the fence and stopped to look at the wagons. Close up, the markings could be read, as well as the paintings of tigers, lions, clowns, flyers, flags, elephants, snakes, horses and riders. Below the paintings revolved the painted sunburst wheels, their steel rims grinding against the gravel.

"Gosh, Tyli, but aren't they something?"

One of the wagons came abreast of the pair. The driver looked down and nodded. "You boys off to see the show? We'll be making our stand in Coppertown before noon."

Emile nodded. "Sure, mister. I wouldn't miss it for anything."

The driver waved a hand. "Come on up, then. We always need boys to help spread canvas."

Emile pulled at Tyli's sleeve. "C'mon, Tyli."

Tyli frowned. "I don't know, Emile. My aunt and uncle will be up soon. I've got my chores."

The driver pulled up his team of six horses, then smiled. "You boys help with the canvas, the Boss Canvasman will give you free passes to the show."

Emile stamped his foot. "C'mon Tyli!"

Tyli looked back at the house, the windows still dark. She turned to her friend. "Let's go!"

The pair climbed the fence, then up the wheel onto the driver's seat and squeezed in next to the black-hatted man holding the reins. He laughed, shook his head, then caused the horses to move forward with a clucking sound. "You boys gonna get whipped for this, aren't you?"

Emile gulped while Tyli raised an eyebrow at the driver. "Maybe." she answered. "And I'm not a boy."

The driver squinted at Tyli, then shrugged. "Don't tell Duckfoot you're a girl. He don't want nothin' but boys on the canvas."

"That's dumb."

The driver nodded. "We toured Stavak before we came here to Doldra." He laughed. "They don't have either boys or girls on Stavak!" The driver shook his head. "Duckfoot's all right, kid; he's still got a little Earth left in him, that's all."

Tyli looked back over her shoulder to see the seats of other wagons crammed with kids, while the overflow paraded behind. "What's that last wagon?"

"That's the horse piano. The boiler cracked on it night before last in the cold, so we can't use it. If it was playing, you'd see kids coming from all over." The driver looked behind, raised his eyebrows, then turned back to the front. "Looks like we're doing all right, even without the steam music." He turned toward Tyli. "You think it's worth it? Runnin' off like this and gettin' a whippin'?"

Tyli frowned, then shrugged. "Don't know. I never seen a circus."

The driver looked forward, over the backs of the six-horse team, then he nodded. "It's worth it."

The Boss Canvasman rubbed his chin and looked down at the girl. "As long as we got them, all we use is boys."

Tyli stuck out her lower lip. "How many of these boys do you want me to whip to prove I'm as good as they are?"

Duckfoot Tarzak lifted his head and roared out a laugh. He shook his head and looked back at the girl. "My, my, but aren't you a sweetie pie? How old're you, kid?"

"Thirteen. And I can do anything I've seen you apes doing around here."

Duckfoot raised his eyebrows, then raised his glance at the tractor that had broken down as they came on the lot. He pointed at it. "Can you drive a cat?"

Tyli looked at the HD-17—a smaller version of the machine she used almost every day at her uncle's farm. "Nothing to it."

The Boss Canvasman pointed at the tractor. "Well, Sweetie Pie, get that cat started up and bring it over here."

Tyli glowered at the name, then turned and stomped off toward the tractor, heedless of the great spool wagons being hauled into place by a tractor doing double duty. She climbed up into the seat, lifted the ignition lock, pushed the right pedal into neutral, then pressed the ignition. When nothing happened, she tried the button twice more, then nodded as she turned her head to glare at the Boss Canvasman. Duckfoot's back was toward her as he directed the placement of the spool wagons. Gangs of canvasmen and boys were attacking the wagons already in place, pulling from them the huge, rolled sections of the main top.

Tyli got down from the seat, stood on one of the treads, and pulled up the tractor's side access panel. Her eyes quickly checked out the ignition system wiring while her fingers tested for loose connections. She wiped a clot of mud from one of the wires, noticed the insulation under the mud was broken, then she tugged at it. The wire came apart. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a pocket knife, opened it, then stripped the ends of the wire. After she had spliced the wire and secured it to keep the untaped connection from grounding, she again mounted the seat, pushed the cat into neutral, and hit the ignition. The cat roared to life, and Tyli looked in the direction of the Boss Canvasman. Duckfoot's back was still toward her, and amid the roars and clatter of the lot, he hadn't noticed the cat start up.

Tyli grinned, released the pedal, and pushed forward the hand throttle. The cat moved forward and she pulled back on the left brake, pushed the throttle full forward, and came riding down upon Duckfoot at full speed. As she reached the Boss Canvasman's side, she killed the throttle, pulled the left brake hard, then pulled both brakes as the cat swung in front of Duckfoot, bringing the machine to a jerking halt. Duckfoot looked down at his feet. The heavy cleated tread of the cat was a centimeter from the ends of his toes. He looked back at the girl. "It's about time." He cocked his head at one of the empty spool wagons. "The roughnecks over there'll hook you up. Get it out of here." He pointed at a spool wagon being pulled away by the other tractor, "Follow Cheesy to the wagon park." Tyli nodded, pushed the cat into reverse, and backed up to the spool wagon.

"Who is the kid on the cat?"

Duckfoot pulled a bandanna from his hip pocket and wiped his forehead as he turned to face the Governor. "Did you see that? The punk almost ran me down."

The Governor nodded. "How old is he?"

"He is a she, and she's thirteen."

O'Hara shook his head. "Too bad. She's awfully good with that cat. But, on this planet, she's too young."

Duckfoot rubbed his chin. "You know, she fixed that cat before she started it. I put her on the one that broke down just to get her out of my hair. She fixed that thing just like that."

O'Hara frowned, thought a moment, then shook his head. "This is one planet where I don't want to tangle with the coppers. A few years ago this used to be a penal colony. They had a revolution and kicked out the eighteen-planet council that ran the place. Since then they've developed their agriculture to where they supply products to a quarter of the Quadrant, but they also established their own police. A mean bunch."

The Boss Canvasman shrugged, then thrust his hands into his pockets. "So nobody runs away and joins the circus on Doldra."

"Not unless they're eighteen, they don't." The Governor turned and headed for the office wagon. Duckfoot watched as the girl's tractor pulled off the spool wagon, then he shook his head and checked the running out of the sections of the main top.

TEN

The station officer at the Coppertown Police Office looked up at the visitor. The clean hands and natty threads marked the fellow as from off planet. "What's your business?"

"My name is Tensil, Officer...?"

"Lieutenant Sarrat."

The visitor smiled. "Lieutenant Sarrat. I'm here to talk to you about the circus visiting your fair city."

The station officer shrugged his massive shoulders. "What about it?"

The man motioned toward a chair. "May I sit down?"

Sarrat nodded. "What about it? And, what's your name?"

The man lowered himself into the chair. "Pardon me. Lieutenant. My name is Franklin Tensil. I am here representing the Arnheim & Boon Circus."

Sarrat cocked his head to one side. "The name of the outfit here in Coppertown is O'Hara's Greater Shows."

Tensil nodded and grinned. "Of course, of course. Well, I am certain you understand how one circus's reputation affects every other show..."

"Get on with it Tinsel."

"Tensil. Ten-sill." The man smiled. "You may not know that O'Hara's uses child labor to erect its tent."

Sarrat shrugged. "Everyone on Doldra uses child labor. After the revolution there weren't enough adults. The population on Doldra is very small, Tinsel."

The man let the pronunciation pass. "Yes, but what would happen if some of those children decided to join O'Hara's?"

"This isn't a prison, Tinsel. So what?"

Tensil shrugged. "Well, when the show leaves Doldra, it'll bring the kids with it—"

"No! No one under the age of eighteen leaves Doldra."

Tensil smiled. "Nevertheless, I'm certain that a few will try it. If you would check out the show, and—"

"Get to the point."

Tensil nodded. "I see Doldra has a more sophisticated police authority than the usual run of rural planet. No doubt it has something to do with your past experience with the law." Tensil rubbed his chin, then reached into his coat and withdrew a wallet. "Lieutenant Sarrat, I am authorized to offer you a certain sum of money in exchange for certain services."

"How much?"

"Direct and to the point. I like that. I won't haggle over quarters and halves. My authority extends to an offer of five hundred thousand credits."

Sarrat raised his eyebrows. "I see. And what must I do to earn this ransom?"

Tensil leaned forward, rubbing his hands together. "The show in Coppertown. It must be crippled, once and for all. The laws on Doldra are strict, and the penalties severe. Find the laws that O'Hara is breaking, then..."

"Throw the proverbial book at them."

Tensil grinned. "Exactly." Tensil reached out his hand. "Is it a deal?"

Sarrat stood, leaned over his desk, extended his hand, and slapped Tensil across the face, bowling him into another desk. At the sound, another officer entered the room. Sarrat pointed at Tensil. "Shackle him."

The officer pulled Tensil upright, whirled him around, then enclosed his wrists in chains and cuffs. When the officer was finished, he pushed Tensil until the man stood shaking in front of Sarrat's desk. "Lieutenant, I... I don't understand!"

"Mr. Tensil, I shall now give you a lesson in the treatment and prevention of crime. We have very little of it on Doldra for two reasons: the certainty of punishment, and its horror. Because of our past experience with the law, as you put it, we both understand the need for it to maintain an orderly, peaceful society, and why the enforcers of the law must be incorruptible. There are no crooked cops on Doldra, and bribery is a severe offense. We have three punishments in our system: restitution, torture, and death. The punishment for bribery is torture, the length of the ordeal to be determined by the size of the bribe." Sarrat grinned. "It is unfortunate that your employers are so generous."

"Sarrat, you can't—"

"Book him." The officer dragged the screaming Tensil from the room. Lieutenant Sarrat pressed a button on his desk, and in a moment another officer came into the room. "Marchon."

"What is it, Lieutenant?"

Sarrat pursed his lips and frowned. "This circus at the edge of town. I think we ought to check it out. There may be some violations of the child-exportation statutes."

Tyli, her eyes still dazzled, her ears still ringing, walked from the customers' entrance of the main top at the conclusion of the afternoon show. Emile pulled at her arm. "Come on, Tyli. We better be going back."

She frowned and turned to look at her friend. "What? I wasn't listening."

"We have to go back. All the kids are heading home."

She sighed. "I guess so. But wasn't that something?" She looked back at the main top. "Wasn't that something?"

"Tyli!" At the sound of her Uncle Chaine's voice, Tyli froze. She saw him emerging from the entrance, his face bright red and twisted in anger. As he approached her, he raised his hand to strike her.

"This time, Uncle, you better kill me. If you don't, I'll kill you."

Her voice was cold and steady. Chaine's hand trembled for a moment, then he lowered it to his side as a fist. "You ungrateful whelp! Running off without doing your chores, and after Diva and I took you in, cared for you, fed you, put clothes on your back—"

Tyli held out her callused hands. "Look at these, Uncle! I've paid for everything I've gotten from you a hundred times over. I didn't ask to be taken from the adoption lists and put at slave labor on your farm." Tears welled in her eyes. "I didn't ask my parents to die in your dumb revolution!"

Chaine grabbed her by her arm and turned her toward the main entrance to the lot. "You think anyone would adopt such a brat, and at your age?" They left the push of the crowd, and Chaine spat on the ground. "Kill me, will you? The only reason I didn't thrash you on the spot is because of all those people. But, when I get you home..." He shook her arm violently and squeezed it hard. Tyli bit her lip to keep from crying out.

"I swear, Uncle, if you beat me again, I'll kill you." Her words tumbled out through her tears. "I swear it, Uncle!"

Chaine's eyes narrowed. "Why you—" He felt a very heavy hand clamp onto his shoulder. "Whaa?" The hand turned him around and Chaine found himself looking at the chin of a human mountain. Tyli covered her face to hide her tear-streaked cheeks. The big man laughed.

"Now, Sweetie Pie, don't be shy. Introduce me to your friend."

Tyli sniffed and cocked her head at Chaine. "This is my uncle—not my uncle, really. He..." She winced at Chaine's grip on her arm "He's my guardian. Uncle Chaine, this is Duckfoot Tarzak. He's Boss Canvasman with the show."

Chaine gave a curt nod. "How'd you know Tyli?"

Duckfoot smiled. "Why, Sweetie Pie pushed a cat for me this morning to get a free pass to the afternoon performance." Duckfoot nodded at Tyli's arm. "That's quite a grip you've got there, Chaine." The Boss Canvasman held out his own hand. "It's a pleasure to meet a man who knows how to treat women and handle kids."

Chaine shrugged, released Tyli's arm, and grasped the Boss Canvasman's hand. Tyli looked in horror at the picture. Chaine was very proud of his grip, and she watched as the two each tried to outsqueeze the other. Chaine's face reddened still further, but Duckfoot simply grinned. "It's ... a pleasure to ... meet you, Duckfoot." Chaine's knees began to sag.

Three dull cracks and the color draining from Chaine's face signaled the end of the contest. Duckfoot released the farmer's hand, then slapped him on the back. "Yessir, Chaine, folks here on Doldra sure are friendly." Chaine weaved on his feet while Duckfoot looked toward the wagon park where several roughnecks were cutting up jackpots. "Hey, yo, Carrot Nose!"

One of the roughnecks got up and walked over. "What's what, Duckfoot?"

The Boss Canvasman slapped Chaine on the back again, sending the man sprawling in the dust. "Mr. Chaine's looking a little pale. Thought you'd be kind enough to show him to the infirmary."

Carrot Nose picked Chaine up out of the dust. "Sure thing, Duckfoot. My, Mister Chaine, but you are pale, aren't you? Come along, now."

Chaine sagged against the roughneck, then looked over his shoulder as the man dragged him toward the infirmary. "Tyli, you be at home when I get there." Carrot Nose grabbed Chaine by his hand, causing the farmer to grunt in pain.

"Sorry about that Mister Chaine. Just trying to steady you. Come along, now."

As the pair left, Tyli looked up at the Boss Canvasman. "Thanks, but you don't know what trouble I'm in now."

Duckfoot studied the girl, then rubbed his upper lip with a sausage-size finger. "Where are your parents?"

"Dead." She looked into Duckfoot's eyes, pleading.

The Boss Canvasman looked back. "You're gonna have to ask. I don't want anybody to ever have cause to say that I talked you into something."

Tyli made two fists and shook her head as fresh tears streamed down her cheeks. "I can't!... It's against the law, and you'll get into trouble. The law'd kill you—"

Duckfoot placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Why don't you let me worry about the details?"

Tyli looked in the direction of the infirmary wagon, then dried her eyes and looked at the flags flying from the main top. She turned back to Duckfoot. "All right. I want a job."

Duckfoot nodded, put his huge arm around her shoulders, then steered her toward the dressing top. He looked up in the air and half talked to himself as they walked. "We'll be on Doldra another six weeks, so the first thing is to make you invisible. We'll see what Iron Jaw Jill can do. Then, I better talk to a couple of people." He looked down at the girl. "Well, first of May, how does it feel being part of the show?"

Tyli sniffed, then laughed. "Scared. Scared to death."

ELEVEN

Tyli stood red-faced in the center of the circle of ballet girls while Iron Jaw Jill poked and prodded at her in her scanty ballet costume. "Might be able to pack the upstairs to fill out the costume." She smacked Tyli on the bottom. "And the downstairs." Iron Jaw shook her head and scratched the wart on her nose. "I can't figure out what to do with the legs, though." She looked at Duckfoot. "Can't hide her in the ballet, Duckfoot. She'd stick out like an ostrich in the middle of an elephant parade."

Duckfoot rubbed his chin and nodded. "Got to do something, though." He pointed at Tyli's head. "Wouldn't she look better without her hair tied up like that?"

Jill stood behind Tyli and worked at undoing the knots. The girl's hair, white-blond and wavy, came down and hung below the small of her back. Iron Jaw Jill turned to one of the ballet girls. "Diamonds, get over to the kid show and get Fish Face. Tell him it's important."

The girl ran from the dressing top. The Boss Canvasman raised his eyebrows. "You thinking of putting Sweetie Pie in the kid show?"

Jill nodded, then pushed around Tyli's mass of hair. "It just might work."

Fish Face Frank, the kid-show director, came into the top and nodded at Duckfoot, then Jill. "What is it, Iron Jaw? I'm a busy man."

Jill grabbed two handfuls of Tyli's hair and held it straight out from her head. "Fish Face, how would you like a Moss Haired Girl?"

Tyli frowned as Fish Face walked over and began fingering her hair. He nodded, "We've never had a Moss Haired Girl before. It's an old gag, but it'll work, especially on a planet full of rubes like this one." He dropped her hair, rubbed his chin, then nodded again. "Right, I can put her between Bubbles and Willow Wand." Fish Face saw the confused look on Tyli's face. "That's the Fat Lady and the Living Skeleton."

Tyli frowned and glared at Duckfoot. "You're going to let them put me in a freak show?"

The Boss Canvasman laughed. "Until we get off Doldra. It's perfect."

Tyli pouted. "A freak show."

Fish Face raised his eyebrows and shook his head. "Don't let any of them hear you call them freaks."

Tyli snorted. "Well, what do you call them?"

"Artistes. Come on. I'll introduce you and then we'll see about making you into a Moss Haired Girl."

As she was leaving, Duckfoot called after her. "And, don't forget: you still push a cat for me!" He shook his head and turned to Jill. "What do you think, Iron Jaw?"

Iron Jaw Jill scratched her wart. "She'll cut it. She's a good kid."

The Boss Canvasman walked to the top entrance and watched Fish Face leading Tyli to the kid show. He noticed the Governor crossing the lot toward the office wagon. "Mr. John!" The Governor stopped as Duckfoot ran from the tent.

"What's up, Duckfoot? I haven't seen you run since the number-three pole splintered and almost parted your hair."

"Mr. John, I have a small boon to beg."

The Governor squinted, then jabbed a finger at the Boss Canvasman's chest. "How many years in jail is this going to cost me?"

Duckfoot held out his hands and shrugged. "Mr. John, they don't have jails on Doldra."

O'Hara nodded. "I know. Restitution, torture and death."

The Boss Canvasman shrugged again. "Well, then in either case it won't take up much of your time."

The Governor pursed his lips, then turned toward the office wagon. "In that case, fire away."

Tyli's skin crawled as Na-Na The Two-Headed Beauty Who Proves That Two Heads Are Better Than One finished blowdrying the girl's hair. During the evening performance, Na-Na had given Tyli instructions to rinse her hair in a foul-smelling concoction, which she had done. Afterward, with the other female artistes observing, Na-Na armed herself with a comb in one hand (controlled by Na) and a blowdryer in the other (controlled by Na) and put the finishing touches on Tyli's coiffure. With the hair frizzed up around her face, Tyli felt as though she were peering out of a hairy tunnel.

"Well, Na, how is that?"

Na frowned, then pointed with her hand. "It could be fluffed up a bit there, don't you think, Na?"

"You're right, Na. Work on it with the comb a bit while I dry it some more, will you?"

"Of course, Na."

"Thank you, Na."

Tyli had been astounded at the sight of Na-Na. Each head was ravishingly beautiful, but there was one too many. She shook her head.

"Hold still, now, Sweetie Pie."

"Yes, Na-Na." Tyli frowned and peered through her hairy tunnel. At its end, seated on three chairs, Bubbles the Fat Lady—700 Pounds of Plentiferous Pulchritude, observed the process.

The mountain of flesh waved an arm. "You should have put more beer in the rinse, Na-Na. It would stand up better."

"I think it's standing up just fine, Bubbles. Don't you agree, Na?"

"Yes, Na."

Tyli felt a hand on her shoulder, and she jumped off of the bucket upon which she had been sitting. "I didn't mean to startle you, dear," said Na. "We're finished. Take a look in the mirror."

"Yes, do," said Na.

Tyli turned and glanced once at Na-Na, then turned toward a portable mirror leaning against a trunk. Turning her head slightly from side to side, she marveled at her new appearance. Her hair, now white, stood out straight from her head in all directions, almost completely covering her face. Bubbles chuckled. "She looks like a snowball on top of a post."

Tyli looked at herself again and had to agree. Her hair stood out well beyond her shoulders. She smiled, then faced Na-Na. "This looks pretty neat."

"Well," answered Na, "we will have to trim it a bit to make it perfectly round."

"I agree," said Na. "But not too much."

Willow Wand Wanda, The Living Skeleton, entered the tent. "Duckfoot says to beat it so he can tear down the sideshow. You can put the finishing touches on in the shuttle."

She heard a great bellow of laughter coming from outside the entrance. Immediately, two female midgets, glowers on their faces, stormed inside and headed toward one of the trunks. As they sat down to change their costumes, they kept their backs toward each other. After another bellow of laughter, Big Sue, the giantess, stooped through the entrance, tears streaming down her cheeks. Bubbles looked up at Sue. "What's so funny?"

Sue sat on a trunk, slapped her knee, then dried her eyes with a hanky about the size of a bedsheet. She cocked her head toward the two midgets. "Tina and Weena were on the lot next to the office wagon arguing at the tops of their lungs. Tina says, 'You're a liar, Weena! I am too shorter than you!' and Weena comes back with 'That's only because you hunch over, Tina!' The Governor opens the pay window on the wagon, looks down at Tina and Weena—'Small talk,' he says, then slams the window shut!"

Tyli held her hands to her mouth to keep from laughing, but it was to no avail. Bubbles shook and Na-Na laughed twice as hard as anyone. Tyli looked at the two midgets. They glanced back at each other, frowns still on their faces. The frowns melted and they laughed.

TWELVE

At first, the inhabitants of the sideshow jarred Tyii's nervous system. Nearly all of the artistes were married: Bubbles to The Ossified Man, Na-Na to The Three-Legged Man, and Tina and Weena to other midgets. Big Sue had a hot steady going on with Dog Face Dick, The Wolfman, while Willow Wand Wanda was making moon eyes at Ogg, The Missing Link. At first the relationships seemed preposterous, if not impossible. But, by the time the show made its stand at Battleton three weeks later, Tyli was an "artiste" while everyone else—with the exception of the other artistes—belonged to "other world."

The Wolfman, cuddled like a puppy in Big Sue's lap, would occasionally wax philosophic about "our world." "I don't know how many times in a season I get asked why I would want to put myself on exhibition. I suppose about half as many times as I get asked why I don't kill myself." Sue would scratch behind his ears. "Out there in other world, looks are everything. It's the same here. The only difference here is that in our world we can be proud of our looks—proud of what we are."

"Gee, Dog Face," Tyli said, "I kind of wish that my act was more like yours, instead of a product of stale beer and bleach."

The Wolfman smiled, exposing his overlong canines. "Look, Sweetie Pie, all of us have a little bunk in our acts. Look at these." He tapped his teeth. "Caps. And I paint my nose black, and you should hear me growl and howl." He nodded at Big Sue. "Those steel bars that Sue ties into knots are just wire-filled rubber. It's what the customer sees that's important."

Early in the morning and late at night, putting up and tearing down the show, Tyli would push one of Duckfoot's cats. The canvasmen called her the Mad Snowball, after she added a drooling idiot wrinkle to her act at Fish Face's suggestion. Insanity increased the attraction, and it also relieved her from answering embarrassing questions from the customers, any one of whom could have been a copper.

At night, after loading the cat at the runs, she would drag herself off to the performers' shuttle and fall into her bunk exhausted. She had little time to think of Chaine and Diva, or of the police. Just before she slept, she would sometimes try to recapture the images of her mother and father, but their memories were too distant. By the time the show had reached its last week on Doldra, she realized that she had a new home and a new family.

There was one relationship that puzzled her, however. The only meal she ever could eat with Duckfoot was lunch, and each time they sat at the picnic tables together with Diane, Queen of the Trapeze. Duckfoot and Diane would chat and laugh, and after a while, Tyli realized that she felt that Diane was crowding a little on her property rights. She would watch the beautiful flyer and the ugly canvasman talk while she did a slow burn. On the next to the last stand at lunch, the canvas of the cookhouse flapped in the wind while Diane and Tyli sat together. Diane looked up at the flapping canvas, then began eating her food.

Tyli frowned. "Aren't you going to wait for Duckfoot?"

Diane shook her head. "With the wind up, he'll be standing by at the main top with the guying out gang. He won't eat until he's certain it's safe."

Tyli experimentally poked the food on her plate, then she looked up at Diane. "Diane?"

"What, child?"

Tyli put a forkful of food into her mouth and talked around it. "What do you think of Duckfoot?"

Diane's eyebrows went up. "Why... what a strange question."

Tyli shrugged. "You always sit with him. I just wondered why."

Diane lowered her eyebrows, then nodded. "Is there any reason why I shouldn't eat with him?"

"No. No reason. I just wondered what he is to you."

Diane nodded. "Well, I don't see him much because we work in different squadrons of the show, so sometimes it's hard to tell. That's why I have to look at this every now and then to make sure." Diane pulled a golden locket from the front of her costume and showed it to Tyli.

The girl frowned. "Duckfoot gave you that?"

"Yes."

"Well, what is it that it makes you sure of?"

Diane opened the locket, withdrew a folded piece of paper, then carefully unfolded it. She held the paper out to Tyli. "That he's my husband."

Tyli half strangled on a mouthful of food. When she had finished coughing, she looked at Diane's kind face, then at the marriage contract. She looked back at Diane. "But... but, you're so beautiful!"

Diane smiled. "And so's Duckfoot."

Sweetie Pie, the Moss Haired Girl, did not have her mind on her work for that evening's performance, and did not hear the call as it worked its way through the show people. "Sherry your nibs! Coppers on Sweetie Pie!" She sat on a chair, pondering a new feeling of loneliness, watching the customers watch her. A sharp jab hit her in the arm and she turned toward Bubbles. "What'd you do that for?"

"Sherry your nibs." Bubbles whispered out of the side of her mouth. "What?"

"Sherry your nibs, Sweetie Pie. Coppers."

Tyli's eyes darted about in her head. "Where? Bubbles, where do I go?"

"Get off the stage and hide in the flaps of the kid show top. Move!"

Tyli stood, went to the back of the stage, and ran down the stairs. She looked about, found a fold in the canvas where it was pulled aside for the entrance to the dressing top, then she ran and hid in the fold. She waited for what seemed like years, until her heart stopped at the sound of Chaine's voice. "She's with this show somewhere. My brother told me she had on a big white wig."

Another voice, deep and cold. "You up there!"

"Yes, cutie?" answered Bubbles's voice.

"Where is Tyli Strang?"

"I don't know any Tyli Strang, cutie, but if you're buying, I'm selling. Isn't he one hunk of man, folks?"

Laughter. "No nonsense. I want Tyli Strang!"

"But, cutie, I want you!" More laughter.

"Now, just a minute, buster!" wheezed the eighty-pound Ossified Man. "You better quit making a play for my wife or I'll come down there and give you what for!" More laughter.

"Hey lady, whatcha doin' in there?"

Tyli turned to her left and saw a small boy gawking at her. "Go away."

"Why's your hair look funny?"

"Go away!"

The little boy pouted, then rubbed an eye as he pointed at Tyli and began screaming. A man ran up and placed a hand on the little boy's shoulder. "What happened, son?" The man looked at Tyli. "What did you do to him?"

"Nothing, noth..." The canvas was whipped aside and Tyli found herself looking into the face of a large, tall, Doldran Officer of Police. Standing a few feet behind the copper was her Uncle Chaine, smiling.

The copper grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the tent. "Tyli Strang, you are under arrest upon complaint of your guardian." She saw several other officers in the crowd, and two of them were hauling the Governor to a police van. A crowd of canvasmen rushed around the sideshow stage, each one carrying one of Duckfoot's toothpicks. The officers dropped their hands to their guns.

"Hold your bosses!" Tyli heard Duckfoot's voice, then saw him as he mounted the stage. He pointed a finger at the roughnecks. "Drop those sticks. All of you! Now!" The canvasmen looked at Tyli, the officers, then at Duckfoot. She looked at Duckfoot as the officer began dragging her off.

"Duckfoot! Duckfoot!"

One of the canvasmen reached down to pick up a tent stake. The last Tyli saw of the Boss Canvasman, he was leaping through the air to tackle the roughneck who had disobeyed his orders.

THIRTEEN

The judge, wearing what Tyli recognized as a mountain revolutionary's rosette on his black collar, turned his emotionless face toward the charging officer. "What charges do the police bring before this court, and who is it that is to be charged?"

A captain of police moved from a side table and halted before the judge's bench. "The first charge is desertion from a lawfully appointed guardian, and the one so charged is Tyli Strang." The captain pointed at Tyli. She stood to the left of the bench, her hands shackled in front of her. Similarly shackled, the Governor stood next to her studying the judge's face. "The second charge is attempted abduction of a minor from the planetary population, and the one so charged is John J. O'Hara." The captain pointed.

The judge lifted a sheaf of papers and held them out toward the captain. "Identify these."

The captain moved closer to the bench, examined the papers, then nodded. "Those are the facts concerning the charges now before the court."

The judge turned toward Tyli and the Governor. "Have copies of these charges been made available to both of you?"

Tyli nodded, her eyes wide with fear. The Governor frowned. "Judge, are we allowed to have someone represent us in one of your trials?"

The judge nodded. "If you wish. Is your representative in the court?"

The Governor looked over his shoulder at the half-empty room. Neither Patch nor Duckfoot was there. "I'm sorry, Judge, but he isn't here yet."

The judge looked back at the papers in his hands. "Then, we shall proceed. Whenever your representative shows, he may continue your defense." The judge turned toward the clerk. "We are ready, then. Under the charge of desertion, record Tyli Strang; under the charge of attempted abduction, record John J. O'Hara. Under both charges: for the police, record Captain Hansel Mendt; for the court," the judge turned toward O'Hara, "record Anthony Sciavelli."

Tyli saw the Governor silently form the name "Sciavelli" with his lips, then an officer led the two to the defendants' dock where they remained as the police captain began his argument. The entire time, O'Hara stared at the judge.

That evening in the holding room, Tyli watched the Governor standing before the room's only window, staring at his own thoughts. "Mr. John?"

He turned and looked at the Moss Haired Girl. At the center of her enormous ball of white hair two wide, frightened eyes searched the Governor's face for hope. "Doesn't look good, does it. Sweetie Pie?"

Tyli looked at the rough plank floor. "I'm sorry. I know Duckfoot got you into this because of me."

O'Hara walked over and stopped beside her. "Look at me!" Tyli looked up into his face and saw the blackest frown that she had ever seen on anything, with the possible exception of Gorgo, the gorilla in the menagerie. "I am John J. O'Hara. Nobody gets me into anything I don't want to get in."

"Yes, Mr. John." Tyli watched as O'Hara went back to the window, then again, lost himself in thought. "Mr. John?"

Without moving, the Governor answered. "What is it?"

"Who is Anthony Sciavelli?"

"The judge."

"I know that, but who is he? I saw you looking at him like you knew him."

The Governor looked down, pursed his lips, then looked up at the night sky. "I guess if your digs had been in with the flyers you would have heard about Sciavelli. L'Uccello. That means 'The Bird.' That's what he was called twenty-five years ago: L'Uccello." The Governor faced Tyli. "You should have seen him on the trapeze, like liquid fire whirling through the air. A bird is such a clumsy creature compared to Sciavelli against the canvas of the main top."

"He was with your show on Earth?"

The Governor nodded, then turned back to the window. "Anthony, his wife Clia, and his brother Vito were the Flying Sciavellis. The two seasons they were with us were the best the show ever had." He held out his hands. "Everything else in the show was just filler. The push came to see the Flying Sciavellis." O'Hara lowered his hands, then rubbed his chin as he continued to stare out of the window. "Anthony and Clia were the perfect lovers. If it hadn't been for their act, they probably would have been famous just for how much they were in love." O'Hara turned and shrugged. "It's a very old story."

"Vito fell in love with Clia?"

The Governor nodded. "Vito was the catcher, so when Clia made it clear that she didn't love him, and found his advances offensive, Vito plotted to get rid of Anthony. At least, that's the way most of the show people figured it. The Sciavellis never worked with a net. That night they were in the middle of their over-and-under routine. Vito would do his knee drop and ready himself to do the exchanges. Clia would go first on the other bar, swing, then do a single somersault as she left the bar and come to rest holding onto Vito's wrists. Then, on the next swing, Anthony would come out, and at the same time he left the bar and somersaulted toward Vito, Clia would release and head for the bar. They would do that six or seven times in quick succession."

The Governor turned back to the window. "Maybe Vito was upset and got his signals crossed, maybe he wanted to kill Clia. In any event, she went down. I remember Anthony and Vito still hanging on their bars, swinging, looking down at the sawdust while a crowd rushed out to Clia's body. They both came down the tapes together, then Anthony calmly walked over to Vito, grabbed him around his neck, and broke it. Vito died instantly." O'Hara shook his head. "We did everything we could, but we couldn't prove that Vito was responsible for Clia's death. So, Anthony was condemned to the penal colony here, Doldra."

"Mr. John, does he blame you for being sent here?"

"I don't know. But in court he went mad—screaming threats at every and anything." O'Hara sighed.

"Mr. John, what's going to happen to us?"

"I'd just be guessing."

Tyli sniffed, then held her hands to her eyes. "I wish Duckfoot was here—and Diane. And my friends from the kid show..."

O'Hara walked over and placed his hand on Tyli's shoulder. "Duckfoot and the Patch were working on something to get us out of this mess. I didn't want to tell you because it might not have been possible." He shrugged. "I guess it doesn't make any difference now."

Tyli lowered her hands and looked up at O'Hara. "What was Duckfoot going to do?"

"Adopt you. That would have taken care of both the desertion and abduction charges. But, if they did manage to get someone in authority to sign the proper papers, they didn't get it done in time."

"Adopt me?" The Governor nodded and went back to the window. "Tyli Tarzak." After trying the name to see how it fit her tongue, she decided she liked it.

FOURTEEN

Later that night, Tyli and the Governor were again in the defendants' dock. The police captain sat at a table, arms folded, face grim. The Governor frowned as Duckfoot and the Patch emerged from the door behind the judge's bench. Duckfoot marched straight for the spectators' chairs and sat down next to Diane, his face an impenetrable mask. The Patch faced the Governor, shrugged, then went to the chairs and seated himself next to Duckfoot. The room was silent for a moment, then Judge Sciavelli emerged from the door and took his seat behind the bench. As was the custom on Doldra, no one rose.

The judge placed a paper on the bench, then turned toward the defendants' dock. "Mr. Tarzak and Mr. Wellington explained to me Mr. Tarzak's intention of adopting you, Tyli Strang." He looked back at the paper. "However, since the adoption was not made final prior to the time charges were brought—and still is to be made final—it has no bearing on the charges before the bench." He nodded toward the police captain. "Since the police have completed their argument, we shall now hear from the defendants." He looked at the girl. "Tyli Strang, what do you say to the charge of desertion?"

The Governor held out his hands. "Just one minute, Sciavelli! You said we could have representation. Where is it?"

The judge closed his eyes, tapped his fingers on the bench, then looked at O'Hara. "I've heard all that your fixer has to say on the subject. He doesn't appear to be able to refute any of the charges that have been brought against you." He looked at Tyli. "What do you have to say about the charge of desertion?"

Tyli swallowed, then looked back at Duckfoot and Diane. They both nodded their encouragement. Tyli looked back at the judge, then folded her arms. "I left. And I'd like to know who wouldn't. The adoption people that assigned me... that assigned me to Chaine's farm, they sent me to prison. But now I have... I have..." Tyli felt the tears choking her. "But now I have a family... people who respect me, and love me. Yes, I left Chaine's farm. And if the law says that's wrong, then the law's dumb! That's all I have to say!" Tyli covered her face with her hands, then leaned against the Governor as he put his arm around her shoulders.

The judge turned his glance from Tyli to O'Hara. "John J. O'Hara, what do you have to say about the charge of abduction that has been brought against you?"

The Governor looked up from Tyli, then studied the judge's face. "She speaks for both of us."

The judge held O'Hara's stare for a moment, then returned his glance to the paper on the bench. "Captain Mendt, do you have any rebuttal?"

The Captain laughed, then got to his feet. "They admit it. They admit everything. What is there to rebut? The adoption laws were made to care for the many orphans left over from the revolution, and they are good laws. The abduction law was made to prevent just this very thing: strangers from off planet taking our children to put them on the baby black market, or worse. Look at her now! Look at her hair. We found her in a freak show!" He waved his hand in disgust. "The letter of the law is clear. To excuse them would make jokes both of our law and our revolution." The captain sat down and folded his arms.

The judge nodded, studied the paper on the bench, then looked back at the captain. "Captain Mendt, we fought a revolution to build a society of laws that served justice rather than politics or privilege. And, for the past ten years, we have given our laws strict, often brutal, application." The judge shrugged. "Perhaps that is a necessary given or revolutionary zeal. But the revolution is a decade old, Captain. Perhaps now there is room beside the letter of the law for that justice we seek."

The captain jumped to his feet. "You can't do—"

"I am the judge, Captain. Do you wish to check the law on that?"

"Judge, these are valid charges. You can't just find them innocent without committing a crime yourself!"

Judge Sciavelli nodded, then signed the piece of paper on the bench. "Captain, I have just executed the adoption instrument that will make Tyli Strang the legal child of Diane and... Melvin Tarzak."

Several of those in the courtroom turned toward Duckfoot and mouthed the name: "Melvin?" Duckfoot didn't notice.

"Since she has been adopted prior to being found guilty of desertion, the desertion charge is ruled groundless. For the same reason, the charges against Mr. O'Hara are ruled groundless." He turned to the defendants' dock. "You both are free to go."

As Duckfoot and Diane raced the Patch to Tyli's side, the Governor watched Judge Sciavelli stand and go through the door behind the bench. O'Hara stepped down from the dock, walked around the bench, and entered the judge's chamber. Sciavelli had opened his collar and was behind a desk, leaning back in a chair. "Anthony?"

The judge looked up, then smiled. "Hello, Mr. John."

"It's still Mr. John, is it?"

"You're the Governor." The judge.motioned toward a chair. O'Hara nodded and sat down.

"I suppose I should thank you for what you did, in there."

Sciavelli shook his head. "Thank Captain Mendt. He's the one who made it clear that this court's choice was between Tyli growing up chained to a farm or on the lot of a circus." The judge studied the top of his desk. "That's where I grew up. I can't think of a better place for Tyli than the lot of O'Hara's Greater Shows." He looked at the Governor. "The law was meant to protect Tyli's interests, and it has done so."

O'Hara frowned. "That Captain Mendt. Can he make trouble for you?"

Sciavelli shook his head. "What I did was strictly legal. You have to understand something about Mendt." He nodded and raised his eyebrows. "About all of us that were condemned to this place, including myself. You cannot imagine the nightmare that awaited the convict on Doldra. The prison ship would land, push the cons out of the hatch, then it would take off. Absolute freedom, in a sense; stark terror in another. There were gangs of thugs—thieves, murderers, rapists, terrorists, maniacs—that roamed the hills, taking what they wanted, warring among themselves, slaughtering anything that stood in their way." Sciavelli pursed his lips. "Shortly after I arrived on Doldra, a gang was formed by those who wanted a rule of law, rather than force. For fourteen years we slugged it out with the other gangs, and then with the authorities. Now we have our own protections against brutality, and are free to trade, with no world using Doldra as a human dump. To Captain Mendt—and myself—what we have and the rule of law that made it possible are sacred." The judge shrugged. "But, like all religions, I suppose it closes our eyes to certain realities. Humanity is one of the things our laws lack. We still have a long way to go."

The Governor nodded, then looked at the judge. "Anthony, what about coming back to the show? Our flyers are the best, and with L'Uccello for a coach..."

The Governor stopped as the judge held up his hand. "No, Mr. John." Sciavelli smiled. "Follow the red wagons." His eyes sparkled as he shook his head. "No, Mr. John, the wagons will have to leave without me this time. I've invested a lot of years in what's happening on Doldra, and I want to protect my investment. I'm not at liberty."

O'Hara nodded, then sat looking at the judge until the silence became uncomfortable. The Governor stood. "Well, I suppose if you have something more important to do—"

Sciavelli stood and faced the Governor. "Not more important, Mr. John, but as important. On Doldra we're what we are because of what we were. It was a grim place, and we're all a little grim as a result, Bring the show back when you can. We need to laugh, wonder, and dream more."

They shook hands, then O'Hara went through the door, closing it behind him. The courtroom was empty, and he stood next to the judge's bench, looking at the rudely constructed room for the first time. A drab setting for a man who once wore spangles flying above a cheering crowd. The Governor touched the rough surface of the judge's bench, then smiled as a breath of envy touched him. Duckfoot Tarzak stuck his head through the door at the back of the room. "You coming, Mr. John? We're gonna blow the next stand unless we move it."

O'Hara withdrew his hand, nodded, then followed the Boss Canvasman into the night.