Empire

26 Interlude — The King of the Dead (An oral tradition from the badlands)

The boy had never been to a circus before. The circus was a place where animals and clowns and magicians performed. It was rarely seen, but when the circus did come through a part of the badlands, all the people there were happy for just a little while.

The boy's father often told him about the last circus, many, many years before the boy's birth. A caravan had appeared over the hills with the rising sun, a train of brightly-colored wagons with all sorts of animals — some of them alive — displayed in cages. For the price of a scrap of food, everyone had gone that night and seen dancing clowns, majestic beasts and other sights too fantastic to share.

Almost every night the boy asked to hear about the circus. Almost every night, after his father kissed him and the world grew silent, the boy prayed for the circus to come.

One day it did, and it was just as the boy's father had described it. A line of wagons pulled by dead horses stretched far into the hills, full of colors and animals he'd never seen! Men with painted faces waved and smiled at him as they passed.

At the far edge of town, where there had been nothing but dirt, they put up a giant tent that nearly scraped the sky. The boy sat and watched for hours as men and animals went in and out of the tent. He wanted to follow along, but his father wouldn't let him. "Not yet," he said. "They're putting the magic in."

The boy knew that there were wonderful and secret things going on inside that tent. He desperately wanted to see, but knew to behave lest he never see the circus at all, so he sat and waited until the sun began to descend. At twilight his father came and found him. "Now we can go in."

Each act that the boy saw that night made his heart thunder and caused a grin to spread from ear to ear. He clapped until his hands were raw and red and kept clapping. All the while, his father watched him with a smile as big as his own.

Then they brought out their most special act: THE KING OF THE DEAD. He was a dancing jester painted in a rainbow of colors. His limbs flew and spun and kicked up a storm of dust. His name was Eviscerato.

Other men, dead men, were brought out to stand around the King of the Dead. They were chained to posts in the ground. The boy's father told him not to be afraid, but he wasn't. His eyes followed every movement of Eviscerato's feet as the nimble jester came just within reach of each dead man, then pulled away from their snapping teeth. All the while he smiled and laughed and sang! Everyone in the audience applauded madly.

Eviscerato spun in a tight circle, in the very center of the dead men, then stopped cold. He looked into the audience, right at the boy. He reached out a hand. One of the dead bit into it.

The crowd roared. The boy stood and stared as all the dead men grabbed Eviscerato and chewed and tore at his brightly-colored costume. All the while the King of the Dead smiled! How could a man smile through such terror? The boy was mesmerized. Blood pooled at Eviscerato's feet and he danced in it, he nipped at the necks and fingers of the dead men, he continued to sing and laugh and despite the horror of the scene there was not a face in the audience that did not grin from ear to ear.

When the torches were extinguished and the crowd was ushered out, the boy climbed onto his father's shoulders and searched for his new hero. Eviscerato was nowhere to be seen.

His father tucked him in very late, and they stayed up a while longer talking about all the things they'd seen. The boy kissed his father and settled down to dream about the circus.

When he awoke, it was still dark. A few fires glowed outside the window of the shanty, and the boy got up to see what was happening.

The circus was leaving. The tent was gone and the animals were motionless in their cages. As the caravan passed the window, the boy saw men without makeup or smiles sitting atop the wagons. He watched them until the last light faded over the horizon.

Then another wagon passed by the window, and stopped. The King of the Dead was the driver. He smiled his painted smile and reached out a bloody hand.

"Come with me." Eviscerato said. "Come dance forever."

The boy took his hand and climbed out the window. The King of the Dead whipped the horses and pulled away. The boy's father chased after the wagon, crying out his name, but the boy didn't hear him.