Darren Shan - The Saga of Larten Crepsley 1-4

Mr Tall’s face darkened – his features seemed to vanish – then cleared. He smiled thinly at Larten. “Sometimes I think too much and say even more. Ignore me, my young friend. I should stick to what I am good at — running a freak show and carving dolls that nobody wants to buy.”

As Larten stared at the mysterious owner of the Cirque Du Freak, not sure what to say, Mr Tall lowered his head and concentrated on the doll. Outside, the horse’s head steadied and it took the right turn. Without hesitation it followed its original route, carrying Larten forward into the darkness and damnation of destiny.

Three nights later, Larten Crepsley took his first ever stage bow. Merletta sprang it on him at the last moment. He had been preparing his tray, and smiled briefly as Merletta approached, expecting her to pass him by. When she stopped, he looked up, slightly annoyed – she knew he was working to a tight schedule – only to almost drop the tray with shock when she said, “Would you like to be part of my act tonight?”

Larten thought he must have misheard. But before he could ask Merletta to repeat herself, she said, “You won’t have to do anything hard, just wriggle out of some locks and chains. It will be easy. If you’re not scared, that is.”

She smirked, confident he wouldn’t turn away from a challenge. But he nearly did, regardless of the shame it would bring.

“I can’t,” Larten gasped. “I don’t have anything to wear.” Every performer had a specially designed costume.

“I’m going to plant you,” Merletta said. “You’ll pretend to be part of the crowd. I’ll ask for a volunteer and pick you. That way you don’t need a costume.”

Larten tried to think of another objection, but Merletta headed him off at the pass again. “It was Hibernius’s idea.”

“Mr Tall wants me to go on?” Larten groaned.

“He thinks you have what it takes. I do too, though I wouldn’t have introduced you to the act this soon. I’d have given you another month. But Hibernius thinks you’re ready and he is rarely wrong in these matters.”

“All right,” Larten mumbled and set his tray aside. He didn’t ask anyone to take it for him — he was sure Mr Tall would have thought of that and sorted it out already.

Larten took a seat in the tent and chewed his fingernails as the rows around him filled. He felt dizzy and sick. He would have backed out if it had just been Merletta, but he was certain Mr Tall was watching him. He didn’t want to let down the man who had given him a temporary home.

When the lights dimmed and the show began, Larten could hardly breathe. The first few acts came and went without making any impression on him — afterwards he couldn’t remember what the line-up had been. He sat chewing his nails or squeezing his hands, praying to the gods for a miracle.

But Larten’s prayers went unanswered and Merletta took to the stage as usual. She normally held back her chains for the second act, but mindful of what Larten was going through, she opened with them that night. She performed a few tricks, slipping free of handcuffs and knotted ropes. Then she stepped forward and asked if any young man would be so good as to come up and assist her.

A few dozen hands shot into the air – Merletta’s beauty ensured that she never went short of lovestruck volunteers – but Larten’s wasn’t among them. He had made a spur of the moment decision to keep his hand down. Mr Tall might criticise him later, but that was better than having to get up there and…

To his amazement his right arm shot into the air and he half leapt out of his seat. He tried pulling his hand down, but he was no longer in control of the limb.

“There we go!” Merletta cried. “You’ll do, young sir. Give him a warm round of applause, please, ladies and gentlemen. He’s a brave young man, isn’t he?”

As people clapped and cheered politely, Larten found himself edging forward, propelled, he was sure, by the magic of the unseen Mr Tall. About halfway to the stage he regained control, but it was too late to back out. Gulping, he mounted the steps and grinned crookedly as Merletta turned him to face the crowd.

There were so many of them! Larten had viewed audiences from the wings, and moved among them with his wares. But now that they were staring at him, he realised for the first time how tightly packed in they were. He saw hunger in their eyes — they wanted to be entertained and would be merciless if they were denied their sport. Their lives were short and hard. This was a rare chance to escape to a more fantastical world, and they would shower abuse on anyone who disappointed them.

As Larten’s knees trembled, Merletta stroked his cheek and said, “I think he’s shy.” There were catcalls and some people roared at Larten to kiss her. He felt even more nervous now than he had felt in his seat.

As Larten thought about fleeing, Merletta grabbed his wrists and pinned them behind his back. He yelped as she snapped handcuffs on them and forced him to his knees. There were lots of cheers — the crowd liked it when their stars played rough.

“Will I make this young fool beg for freedom?” Merletta crowed.

“Yes!” the audience screamed.

“Will I make him crawl on his stomach like a toad and kiss my feet?”

“Yes!”

“Will I–”

“You’ll do nothing,” Larten snarled, snatching her arm and dragging himself to his feet. In his anger he’d picked the lock of the handcuffs and tossed them aside. Squaring up to Merletta, he steadied himself to deliver a foul curse. Before he could, Merletta gasped theatrically.

“I was sure I locked those cuffs,” she called to the crowd. “Maybe there’s more to this boy than I thought.”

Larten hesitated as a few of the people – mostly ladies who felt sorry for him – clapped half-heartedly. He was glowering at Merletta, but he sneaked a sideways glance and saw that the hunger in the eyes of the crowd had been replaced with mild curiosity.

Merletta took Larten’s arms and bent them behind his back again. But this time she was more gentle and he didn’t resist. He kept still as she bound him with ropes and another pair of handcuffs, then turned him so that the audience could see.

“There,” she exclaimed. “That will hold him.” She spun Larten so he was facing the crowd again. “Now what should I do with him?”

A few of the men shouted suggestions. As they yelled, Larten worked quickly, loosening the ropes and picking the lock. As Merletta considered the cries of the crowd, Larten slipped free, tapped Merletta on the shoulder and coughed softly.

Merletta gave a shriek, as if taken by surprise. Larten held up his hands and smiled. The audience applauded enthusiastically, accepting him as a performer. And the rest of the show flew by smoothly after that.

Larten felt like he was dreaming. He didn’t want the act to end. He cherished every laugh and clap from the crowd. He wasn’t up there with Merletta more than three or four minutes, but when he later looked back at this time and broke it down into every delicious second and thrill, it would seem to him as if he’d been on stage for an hour.

Larten relished his moment in the spotlight and couldn’t understand why he had ever been scared. He had never been drunk, but he figured this must be what it felt like. It was as if he owned the world and could do no wrong.

Larten left the stage to a huge round of applause. The crowd had taken a liking to him and were pleased for his sake — they could see that he was a newcomer and that this meant a lot to him. Larten would never forget that wonderful feeling. It was a special moment in his life and he drew all the happiness from it that he could.