Free The Palace of Laughter by Jon Berkeley Page B

said Miles. “Isn’t that where you said Silverpoint was taken?”
    â€œThat’s what the monkeys told me, and they don’t miss much,” said Little. Miles handed her the ticket. She frowned at the writing, and turned it over in her hands. “I can’t read,” she said. “Does it tell you where to find it?”
    â€œNo. It just says that the train leaves at dawn tomorrow.”
    â€œThen you shall have to try and catch the train if you are to find your friend,” said Lady Partridge. “We’ll find a way to disguise you, so you won’t be so easy to spot. Perhaps Miles will go with you.”
    Miles did not answer. He was trying to remember where he had heard of the Palace of Laughter before. Crouching by wooden steps, breathing the smell of cigar smoke. That was it! The Great Cortado had mentioned it in his conversation with Genghis. Miles pictured a rambling palace, the doors standing open and the sound of laughter flooding out on the warm firelight. The thought of it made him smile. Somewhere out in the distant night, this place really did exist. He began to look forward to the adventure that was unfolding before them.
    â€œYou can’t come with me,” said Little. “This is trouble that I made for myself, and you’ve already done enough for me. The Great Cortado is a dangerous man, and he’ll be very angry with you for helping me to escape.”
    â€œThen I’d better keep out of his way,” said Miles. “But you can’t go on your own, and anyhow the Great Cortado owes me a new home. If I can’t ask him for one, I’ll find another way to make him repay me.”
    â€œQuite right,” said Lady Partridge, “but you shall both have to be very careful. I don’t like the sound of this Circus Oscuro at all. Giantesses. Bone-crunching beasts. It’s not my idea of a circus.”
    She sighed, stroking the ginger kitten on her lap. “I used to bring the orphans to Barty Fumble’s Big Top. Now that was a wonderful show. It used to pass through here every summer, and we never missed it. It was small and friendly, and you could see that everyone really enjoyed themselves, right from the prop hands to the ringmaster himself. Barty Fumble was a real gentleman. You could tell by the way he held himself. It was said that he looked after all his performers, whether on two legs or four, as though they were his own children. I remember his pride and joy was a tiger named Variloop…Voopilar…some foreign name that I never could pronounce. There were many wonderful acts but that magnificent tiger was always the highlight of the show.”
    â€œWhat happened to Barty Fumble’s Big Top?” asked Miles.
    â€œI’m not really sure, my dear. It merged somehow with a larger circus, but that was years ago now.Rumor had it that Barty Fumble disappeared shortly after that, and his tiger along with him. I’ve never heard anything more of them since, and no other circus has passed through here for years, not until this Circus Oscuro arrived.
    â€œAnyhow, that was all a long time ago,” said Lady Partridge, “and what you both need now is a good night’s sleep, or you won’t be going anywhere at the crack of dawn, not if I have anything to do with it.” She slipped into her purple slippers, which waited as usual below her hammock, and began to rummage in a wide drawer for bedclothes, muttering to herself as she did so. “Pillows, pillows, not in this one…nor that one. Now where did they go?…Shoo, you big furball…. Ah, here’s Great-aunt Boadicea’s embroidered cushion, that will do…. Now let me see…blankets…Don’t get many visitors these days, you see…. Where did I put the dratted blankets?”
    By the time she had found all that she needed, Little and Miles were asleep. She gently slipped pillows under their heads and covered them