“Widge always goes straight to the very top,” Poppet says. “He knows all the fastest routes to get there.”
Bailey and Poppet take a more leisurely route, choosing platforms to climb at random, crawling up bits of white netting and maneuvering carefully through narrow passages. Bailey cannot tell where the edges are, or how high they have climbed, but he is relieved that Poppet seems much less troubled than she had been on the Stargazer as she laughs, helping him through the more difficult turns.
“How do we get down?” Bailey asks eventually, wondering how they will ever find their way back.
“The easiest way is to jump,” Poppet says. She pulls him over to a hidden turn that reveals the edge of the platform.
They are much higher than Bailey had suspected, even though they have not reached the top.
“It’s okay,” Poppet says. “It’s safe.”
“This is impossible,” Bailey says, peering out over the ledge.
“Nothing’s impossible,” Poppet responds. She smiles at him and jumps, her red hair trailing out behind her as she falls.
She disappears into the sea of white spheres below, enveloped completely before popping back up, her hair a shock of red against the white as she waves at him.
Bailey only hesitates for a moment, and he resists the urge to close his eyes as he leaps. Instead he laughs as he tumbles through the air.
Reaching the pool of spheres below it is truly like falling into a cloud, soft and light and comforting.
When Bailey climbs out, Poppet and Widget are both waiting on the path nearby, Poppet sitting on the edge with her legs dangling over the side.
“We should be getting back,” Widget says, pulling a watch from his pocket. “We have to get the kittens ready for another show and it’s nearly midnight.”
“Is it really?” Bailey asks. “I didn’t know it was that late, I should have been home by now.”
“Let us walk you to the gates, Bailey, please?” Poppet asks. “There’s something I want to get for you.”
They walk together back along the winding paths, making their way across the courtyard toward the gates. Poppet takes Bailey’s hand to pull him through the curtained tunnel, navigating the dark turns effortlessly. The field visible beyond the gates when they reach the other side is not crowded at this late hour, though a few scattered patrons coming or going linger nearby.
“Wait here,” Poppet says. “I’ll be right back.” She runs off in the direction of the ticket booth while Bailey watches the clock tick closer to twelve. Within moments, Poppet is back, something silver in her hand.
“Oh, brilliant idea, ’Pet,” Widget says when he sees it. Bailey looks back and forth at them, confused. It is a silver piece of paper, about the size of his ticket. Poppet hands it to him.
“It’s a special pass,” she explains. “For important guests, so you don’t have to pay every time you come to the circus. You show it at the booth and they’ll let you in.”
Bailey stares at it, wide-eyed.
This card entitles the holder to unlimited admission
is imprinted on one side in black ink, and on the reverse it reads:
Le Cirque des Rêves
and in smaller letters beneath that:
Chandresh Christophe Lefèvre, Proprietor
Bailey is dumbstruck, staring at the shiny silver card.
“I thought you might like it,” Poppet said, sounding unnerved by his lack of articulate response. “That is, if you want to come back while we’re here.”
“It’s wonderful,” Bailey says, looking up from the card. “Thank you very much.”
“You’re welcome,” Poppet says, smiling. “And I told them to tell me and Widget when you arrive, so we’ll know when you’re here and we can come find you. If that’s all right with you.”
“That would be great,” Bailey says. “Really, thank you.”