Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

17 | The Winter Festival

As soon as their feet were back on solid ground Sadie and Oliver dived into the crowd, heading for a sprawl of brightly striped tents.

"Sadie," Michael called. "Come back!"

But she covered the flagstones like a whirling dervish. Sadie darted past tailored elbows and fashionable handbags, swinging umbrellas and polished walking-canes. A large arch—constructed of wicker, twisted vines, and twinkling faerie-lights—marked the entrance to the festival where live music, from various troupes and bands, pumped within. A million glorious smells filled Sadie's nostrils.

As they approached, a slender man wearing a column of hats stood in their path. He tipped a hat from the top of the tower. "A mortarboard, right?" he asked, presenting it to Sadie. She nodded. He tossed the hat into the air and, as it landed in Sadie's hands, had become an impressive tricorn pirate hat, complete with Jolly Roger and the faint stink of rum.

"Gabriel Greenfold," he said bowing, the column of hats seeming to stick to his head. "Chapeaugrapher extraordinaire. The magic of hats, if you will."

Gabriel unfolded a small map, printed on crisp white paper and edged with silver.

"Welcome to The Winter Festival. There's much to do and see and taste and hear. Why not get a Tarot Reading, or see a Fortune Teller, take a ride on a Zorse, enter the Goulash eating competition, lose yourself in the Tornado of Souls, get your face painted, stroke the Fox Bears and the Scaled Ligers, or get a bag of hot donuts and watch one of the magic shows. It's time, Sadie Madison, for your adventure to begin."

Saluting Gabriel farewell, Sadie headed for the cobbled square in the centre of The Winter Festival where jewellers and merchants were selling everything from cakes to diamond rings.

In the centre stood three men in tight black bodysuits. As a fanfare sounded, one of the men flipped his hands, producing a ball of flames. He ripped the ball of fire in two—the same way Sadie had seen Larissa separating raw pastry—and threw one to each of his fellow performers who repeated the process until there were more than twelve orbs of scorching fire. Juggling faster, they began dancing, jumping, and somersaulting at the same time. Trails of fire linked one juggler to the next like a web of light. The intoxicating smell of sulphur, charcoal, and saltpetre spiralled into the night air.

The audience began to applaud and holler.

"This is amazing," said Oliver. "How do you imagine it's done?"

"A lot of practice and hopefully some sort of gloves."

"Sadie!" the voice came from the other side of the square. "Sadie Madison!"

Michael hauled Larissa and Eli through the crowds, a hand raised high above him, waving frantically. Natalia and Dimitri drifted along behind them; fingers entwined.

"Sadie," he said, relieved. "Why did you run off? We've been looking for you for the past ten minutes. Please stay close to me and your mother."

Sadie shrugged but refused to smile. She still found it hard to look at him. She wasn't sure if any explanation or apology or amount of time would make any difference.

"So, what do we want to see?" he asked, unfolding his map and staring at it intently.

"We passed a Karmethian Derby on the way," said Larissa. "Haven't played one of those since we were in the City of Leaves."

Eli signed frantically at Michael.

"Stripey Donkeys?" Michael said.

"He means Zorses," Larissa translated.

Michael turned to Natalia and Dimitri, but they were lost in each other's eyes. "Sadie, what about you? What would you like to see?"

She scanned the engraved signs and placards hanging above each tent. "There," she said, pointing. "The Tornado of Souls: An Experience for the Senses."