Free The Borribles: Across the Dark Metropolis by Michael de Larrabeiti

up.’
    The crowds grew thicker and thicker until they formed a solid mob of humanity that could only move in one direction at a time. The grass and cinders underfoot were churned into an ooze of mud and the music blared louder and the switchback turned faster and faster until its riders screamed with fear and excitement.

    This excitement of speed and music conveyed itself to the Adventurers and they could barely wait for the performance to begin; all except Napoleon Boot of course. He was tense with something else—suspicion. He went to find Knocker and took him to one side so that they could talk together without being overheard. ‘That Ninch,’ said the Wendle, his face screwed up tight, ‘I haven’t seen him all afternoon, and I don’t like it.’
    Knocker nodded. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘I noticed it as well. Still, as the proverb says, “Don’t scratch where it don’t itch” They’ve been good to us … I don’t suppose there’s anything in it.’
    ‘Huh,’ said Napoleon, ‘there’s an old Wendle proverb too. “Anyone who’s that good can’t be that good.” That’s my favourite, that is.’
    In spite of all these suspicions Napoleon met his friends at the entrance to the big top and there at last he saw Ninch, standing next to one of the circus men and dressed in bright orange trousers, shoes like barges and sporting a big red nose. Under his arm he held a large bundle of programmes and he gave one to every member of the audience as they entered the tent to take their places. When Napoleon asked the acrobat where he had been all afternoon he just smiled and wiped his forehead with the back of his hand in a mime of exhaustion.
    ‘I haven’t stopped all day,’ he said. ‘Old Buffoni has had me running here, there and everywhere.’
    Napoleon accepted this explanation for the time being and passed, with the rest of the Adventurers, into the tent and they were shown to the bench that had been reserved for them in the front row. The audience was increasing minute by minute and notwithstanding what Signor Buffoni had said earlier in the day there was hardly a spare seat to be seen. The noise in the big top grew and in a little while the house lights dimmed and Signor Buffoni himself appeared in a blazing circle of silver light looking gorgeous in a red coat, a bejewelled cummerbund and a black top hat. He carried an enormous whip too and called for silence by cracking it loudly above his head.
    ‘Mee-yer Lorse, Ladies and Gennermen,’ he called, his voice resounding all over the tent without benefit of microphone, ‘pray be welcome to the ge-reatest show on earth, the Buffoni Circus, Fairground and Menagerie. And-er neow, first tonight, for your pleasure and delectation, Buffoni’s er-circus-a proudly preesents … the wild
horses of the Rushan Steppes. Er-h-until a few short months ago these ’ere’ orses were roaming free in the boundless wastes of Haysha. They ’ave been er-ber-rought ’ ere at treemendous hexpense and personally trained by the Magnificent and Marvellous Mazeppa Buffoni and his er-loverly wife, Caterina. Mee-yer Lorse, Ladies and Gennermen, The Magnificent Mazeppa and Caterina.’
    At this Signor Buffoni cracked his whip, the lights went out and when they came on again, a second or two later, the ringmaster had disappeared and three horses, two grey and one black, were tearing round the circus ring. Running behind them were a young man and woman dressed in ballet costumes liberally sprinkled with spangles and sequins.
    It took hardly any time at all for Mazeppa and Caterina to catch up with the horses, and when they did they jumped upon their backs, performing handstands and leaping from one animal to another at breathtaking speed. At the very last, just to outdo what had gone before, and while still mounted, Caterina stood on her partner’s shoulders and faced backwards, waving and smiling. The Borribles and the rest of the audience were spellbound.
    Soon the act was over