Cirque De Sem'ya

Chapter 8 - Capture

The Irishman stirred softly on his cot, the whole world rocking back and forth with a throbbing pain throughout his body. He groaned under the pain and attempted to open his eyes, only to make out a blurry figure sitting by him, leaning forward.

"Easy now, he really got you good, didn't he?" The voice he would know anywhere: Madame Ambassador.

"Where?..." was all he was able to muster.

"You're with the CIRQUE DE SEM'YA, Officer Rafferty. At this moment we're currently on the road. There is so much for you to learn," she explained as she monitored the bandages that wrapped around his body. 

He attempted to push himself off of the cot, but sparks ricocheted throughout his body, making him instantly regret the decision. The Ambassador gently steadied him so he wouldn't crash back down. "How...how long?"

"A few days. Don't fret, we took it within our power to make sure the Headquarters knew that you would be ill and unable to work for the foreseeable future. We take care of our own, always remember that. Now if you're able, there are some who would like to make an audience with you." Her words rang through his mind like erie bells; all he could do was nod to her request.

She eased him onto his feet after a few attempts, and kept a firm but gentle hold on his arm to guide him through the train compartments. Many seemed to be chamber cars, where many occupants resided to rest. One stuck out like a knife and woke him from his haze instantly. It appeared to be a lounge car, filled with chairs and tables...and people watching him. They were the Cirque de Semya. He had found them, or rather, they found him. All of his work had finally paid off: he was successful! The Ambassador led him through the car, the eyes of the occupants following his every move. Whispers were exchanged, but all in languages that were unknown to the Irishman. The adjoining car was not too far different than the last, but seemed to be more business than pleasure. A broad wooden desk sat directly across from the door with a man waiting behind it with steepled fingers. To his left was the Opponent, with the Woman bandaging another wound while they waited. On his other side was a younger man, with hair the color of the Irishman's and a thick brown coat.

"Officer Sean Clyde Rafferty, welcome! It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. We have heard so much about you. Please, take a seat." The man behind the desk smiled icily, motioning with a wave of his hand the chair in front of the desk.  Watching the others out of the corner of his eye, the Irishman warily took the seat, and the Ambassador finally released her grip. It was obvious that this was the man in charge with his puppets waiting patiently.

"No, the pleasure is mine."

"I would've wished for other circumstances, but c'est la vie." The leader held out his hand with a much friendlier smile, or his attempt.

"Other circumstances? Do you mean I wouldn't be kidnapped along with everyone else here?"

The silence was sickening. None of the company member moved, their eyes all trained onto the man behind the desk. He tensed and his hand held onto the edge of the desk in a death grip. "What could you possibly mean?"

"You didn't think I knew about Mirra Auberdine? How you stole her from her family and stole a slave while you were at it? How many other children did you steal from their families in the dead of night-!"  The Irishman was cut short in his rant when the man, the Ringmaster struck him across the face. He had gotten out his chair to reach over and was now leaning against the top on both hands, glaring daggers into the Irishman, all humor in his eyes had vanished instantly.

"Now listen here boy! I have done many sins in my life for the Lord almighty to lose his faith, but I have never nor will ever kidnap. Everyone here came by their choice, Then there is you, and if it wasn't for our intervention, you surely would have perished. You have every choice to leave, we just have a schedule to uphold. Now hold your tongue." The Ringmaster took a few calming breaths before brushing any stray pieces of ebony hair from his face before returning to his seat. There was a faint hint of a smile on all of the faces of the younger company members. "With that out of the way, you mentioned Mirra Auburdaine? Yes she is in my ward, but no, I did not force her in any way into this situation. She came on her own accord. And for the slave, I paid for her, a rather hefty price might I add. She is free now, the moment she stepped into the CIRQUE DE SEM'YA, she became her own person."

"Why would they believe that you're a thief and kidnapper?"

The Ringmaster's answer was interrupted when the Opponent began to bark out towards the Ringmaster, who replied much more calmly; all in a language that reminded the Irishman of when Wirner would speak in his own native tongue.

"Pardon him. To answer your question, it is because young Miss Auberdine ran away, abandoned them to join the circus which already was known for its questionable motives. Now that we are being interrogating, they have the opportunity to relacom her and bury us in the process."

"Can I meet her? If I can't bring Mirra back to her family, I could at least relay a message," The Irishman offered hopefully. Mirra Auberdine was the chance to hear more of the circus without any barriers and if everything proves successful, help his family in the process.

"On one condition. We would like to know what your little police force has on our company and would prefer to continue the arrangement to know in the future as well."

Under the gaze of the company, the Irishman had to make the decision, "Alright....you have a deal. They have relatively nothing. I've seen and remember it all. Newspaper clippings of your tent announcing your arrival and stories by spectators. That is all; none of your names are known, only titles. I only know Mirra Auberdine because of the meeting."

A proud smile curled across the Ringmaster's face. "Perfection. You're a good man, Officer Rafferty. I do hope you enjoy your stay with us. Please, make yourself at home. But whatever you learn must not leave these cars, do I make myself clear? I have many a men who would love to make it clear."

"Yes sir."

"Wonderful, now, let's save these little meetings for another day, for you are still healing. Madame Ambassador, would you please be so kind to help our new companion to a bedchamber, he will be needing his strength in the coming days."

"Of course, come along, Officer." The Ambassador smiled sweetly and helped ease the Irishman out of the chair, He stumbled out and relied heavily on her support, his legs still not complying completely with his brain.

The two stepped it, a loud thunk echoing as soon as the door was shut. The Irishman's head jerked back at the sound; confused and surprised. Madame Ambassador simply patted his arm reassuringly, "A knife. He truly doesn't like you, your opponent."

The Irishman merely nodded with a soft murmur. The remainder of the journey was a blur of movement and sound. He didn't even realize when he reached the chamber cars and he was right in the same position that he woke up in, with the Ambassador at his side. He took her wrist in his hand before she could leave.

"Wait...your name...can I have your name...Please?"

She smiled sweetly and kissed his palm "My name is Weslyn."

He repeated the name to himself softly, feeling the dull ache of his wounds slowly taking over his senses. The unknown laid ahead in