Simon sank his teeth into the flaky crust of Mollyanna's savory mince hand-pie. The syrupy juices flowed into his mouth, and the flavors stayed on his tongue long after he swallowed the bite. At the same time, he loitered at the back of the crowd in front of Sr. Fuego's stage, watching and listening as he selected people at random from the audience to come up and demonstrate the "magic" tonics he sold.
[...]
[...]
"You there!" Sr. Fuego called on him, pointing as if he'd only noticed him for the first time in that moment. [...] "Tell us, boy--what misfortune plagues your body?"
Simon gave a cough to really sell his performance. "It's my voice, sir," he rasped. "I lost it some time ago, and it hasn't come back."
A murmur rippled through the crowd, a few sighs of sympathy from the soft-hearted ladies. Fuego turned to address them with a shrug. "How many of us have experienced just such a difficulty, an illness that ravages our throats so that we cannot speak?" Heads nodded. "Allow me to demonstrate!" He pulled out a bottle of tonic and held it up. "Fuego's Voice Repair soothes the soreness in your throat, and relaxes the muscles around your lungs, so that you will be back to speaking normally within minutes. Just watch!" He poured a dose of that sparkling silvery liquid onto a spoon, and handed it to Simon.
This was the part Simon hated the most. He had to take the tonics offered by Fuego. The salesman made no secret about the fact that what he would be giving in the demonstration was merely a harmless syrup or water--at the very least, Simon could pretend to take the pills or powders, without actually ingesting any of it--but the spoonfuls had to be taken right there in front of everyone, no matter how awful they tasted.
Simon slurped the liquid off the spoon, pulling a face almost immediately as the strange flavor coated his tongue. All other times, he could exaggerate his expression and Fuego would play along, patting him on the back and telling him what a brave boy he was.
This time was a little different. This wasn't mere syrup or sweetened molasses on the spoon--whatever it was made Simon's tongue feel like it had been coated in a fluffy cotton ball. He tried running his tongue along the roof of his mouth to take away some of the taste... but he couldn't feel that part of his palate. A wave of dizziness overtook him, and Simon gave an alarmed splutter as he staggered sideways a few steps.
He heard Fuego speaking, but very softly and far away. "Steady, now, young man! What a brave boy, taking your medicine! That's it, let it take hold... there we are..."
Simon felt the fog clear, and he could stand upright once more. All eyes fixed on him, none more eagerly than the twinkling eyes right beside him. "Well, Mason?" Fuego used his fake name. "How do you feel?"
Simon cleared his throat and spoke in his normal voice, "I feel great, Mr. Fuego!"
Simon cleared his throat and spoke in his normal voice, "I feel great, Mr. Fuego!"
The audience erupted into cheers and applause, and Fuego gave his closing announcements, dismissing Simon from the stage and inviting people over to his cart full of tonics to buy themselves a bottle of Fuego's Voice Repair.
[...]
"Step right up! Come on, who's brave?"
The challenge caught Simon's ears, and he stopped in his tracks to look around and see where it was coming from. It occurred to him that the answer to this question was unequivocally him. He was brave, yes indeed! He was the bravest of them all!
"You know you want to!" Another voice urged, and that very minute, Simon knew with every fiber of his being...
"I do want to!" He announced then and there. "I want to, very much!" He decidedly marched off to do just that--but after only a few paces he realized the crucial piece of information missing from his amazing plan. "Wait! What is it that I want to do?" He let his eyes wander over the crowded chaos until he saw it.
The Outwestern show was happening just a short distance away. The rope in Scott's hand twisted and danced and knotted and unknotted again in smooth motions, as if it had a life of its own. Jacqui pranced and tumbled and wowed the crowd as she cast knives at a large target from all directions.
Scott addressed the crowd. "Last call, folks! Which of you would like to test your mettle upon this very stage?" He began gesturing at random people in the audience. "Will it be you, ma'am? Or perhaps you, sir? Or maybe..." His keen gaze landed on Simon, "You."
Simon felt the thrill of awareness that he'd been singled out for something, but he wasn't altogether sure what it might be. "Me?" he echoed, pointing at himself.
Scott smiled. "Don't be shy, my friend! Come on up here!"
His feet began moving of their own accord, propelling him closer to the stage. Part of him knew that this situation was very unlike participating in Fuego's shows; at least with those he knew what to expect. He had no idea what the daredevil couple had planned, but somewhere he'd lost his willpower to avoid getting noticed by them.
"That's right!" Jacqui goaded him, the sparkling silver tassels on her leotard arresting his gaze, "Come on up, you brave boy!"
Simon climbed the steps to the stage and Scott led him by the hand toward the massive target.
"Here's what you're going to do," the roper instructed. "You just stand here and don't move. Jacqui will do the rest--You got that, Grunt? Do not move a muscle!"
"Okay. Okay." Simon was too petrified to say anything else. Wasn't this the target Jacqui threw her knives at? Why was he standing in front of it? How did he happen to agree to this? He stood there, just as Scott had said, not even twitching. Jacqui gave a flourishing bow, and fairly prowled over to the long table laid with all her knives. She selected one, displaying it to the audience with a big smile on her face--
Thunk.
Simon felt the knife shudder against his arm, when he didn't even see it leave her hand. She chose another blade, balancing it on her feet and on her chin before it too was buried an inch deep in the wood just a hairs-breadth from Simon's thigh. The next time, she chose two knives, and juggled them for a few tense minutes before flicking them in Simon's direction. One landed next to his neck, and the other buried itself horizontally just above his head. Simon was keenly, painfully aware of the flat of the blade pressing against his scalp. Yet, through it all, he never needed to suppress any urge to flinch. The crowd gasped and cheered louder and louder with each throw.
[...]
Simon would rather have been in the small display tank with a Great White Shark, or have gone a few rounds with Rolin himself than be standing there in that moment, but he could only wait for it to be over as Scott called out, "Ready! Aim! Fire!"
Poof! Simon felt the blast of heat as flames erupted on the top of the torch just above his head--but that wasn't all that ignited. Simon heard a flurry of explosions and realized that at some point Scott had strung the entire target with firecrackers! They blasted sparks of fantastic colors in all directions, whizzing loudly in Simon's ears as the crowd cheered. Scott and Jacqui took their bows and called for a special round of applause for Simon.
As Scott pried the torch from Simon's terrified hands, he happened to murmur in Simon's ear. "Nicely done, kid. I gotta say, you're braver than we thought. Maybe we won't be so hard on you anymore. You can go now."
"Okay," said Simon, and he walked down the stairs. His feet landed on the ground and he ambled off to see what his friend Yssandra was doing.
He arrived at her enclosure more or less on his feet--his eyes weren't focusing well as the sun set and the sky darkened into night. [...] Simon struggled to keep his wits about him as the fog settled over his brain, but his eyes interpreted everything as melting like wax candles and tumbling like tilting cart wheels. When he was once again on his own, he pushed open the door into Yssandra's enclosure.
"Oh thank goodness you're here!" The Mermaid gasped behind a thick layer of uandino. "Simon, you need to help me! I think Sr. Fuego--"
The name struck Simon as hilarious right in that moment. "Fuego, we go, way go--mango-tango!" He babbled, laughing hysterically.
"Simon!" Yssandra cautioned him. "Listen to me carefully--"
"No, you lissen!" Simon slurred irritably, waving a tipsy finger in the air. "See, listen, feel, smell, taste... Taste funny... Tank your medicine!"
A wet, webbed hand gripped his wrist. "Simon, what's wrong with you? You haven't taken any of Fuego's tonics, have you?"
Simon smiled. At last, someone who understood him! "Yeah!" he gushed. "Tooked all tonics--jus' a bit, all for play.... Shhh!" He pressed a finger against his mouth. "Not real--for secret... Fine I feel!" He frowned as a dirty, discolored mass began to form and bloom at the back of the mermaid tank. "Hey..." He muttered. "Why water not happy?" The drab, dirty color looked pretty sad and distressing, compared to its normal clear grey-blue hue.
"What? Do you see the potion, Simon?" Yssandra asked. "You'll tell somebody for me, right?"
Simon couldn't stop watching the icky cloud engulf the tank. "Why's it green?" he mumbled. The world wobbled and tilted sideways.
"Simon? Can you hear--"
Blackness overtook him.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
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