The last thing I remembered was holding my sister's coat while she went back onto the roller coaster. Then I was in a field, still holding the coat, with a word hanging in front of my face.
SHENANIGANS
Underneath, in smaller letters: Best of luck.
I knew, with the same certainty that I knew my own name, that this was my special ability. I did not know how I knew. The letters vanished when I reached for them, leaving me with my sister's denim jacket, my own clothes, and a field that smelt of hot grass. Blue leaves shifted in the trees beyond it. Something with six legs was eating a hedge.
“Shenanigans,” I said.
The hedge continued to be eaten.
I tried saying it more forcefully, then silently. I held out one hand. I held out both hands. Finally I asked for a sandwich, which seemed a reasonable thing to ask of a power that had removed me from within walking distance of one.
Nothing happened.
There was music beyond the trees. I folded my sister's coat carefully and followed it.
The fair had striped tents, a turning wooden wheel, and the reassuring smell of onions frying. Its entrance was a gap between two carts. A man with a spear stood in the gap, collecting coins in a leather cup. He wore a brass helmet and had shaved himself with the sort of thoroughness that leaves a man pink.
“Three coppers.”
“I haven't got any.”
“Then you can look from here.”
Looking from there would not get me onions. “Is there work?”
He glanced at my red trainers. “Sell those.”
Beside him, a little wooden king was hanging above a puppet stall. It had a horsehair moustache, a painted sneer, and a crown that looked much more securely attached than its head.
I looked from the king to the guard.
Perhaps it was hunger. Perhaps the word in my head had loosened something that normally kept suggestions inside it.
“Careful,” I said. “Your moustache is coming off.”
“I haven't got a—”
The puppet's moustache crossed the gap between us and landed on his upper lip.
For a moment we both stood still. It was a magnificent moustache, curling nearly to his ears. He seized one end and pulled. The other end curled round his finger.
“Don't stretch it!” shouted a woman from behind the stall.
I stepped sideways into the fair while the guard was trying to say several things through horsehair. The woman caught my sleeve. She had dark hair cut square under her ears, a red shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a short blue coat repaired with patches of orange cloth. Her hands were stained with paint.
“Did you throw that?” she asked.
“I don't think so.”
“You don't think so.”
“I'm having a difficult morning.”
She looked at me for another second, then at the guard. “Stop pulling, Gedd. It cost eight coppers. I'll fetch oil.” She pushed the puppet stand into my arms. “Hold this.”
That, at least, I knew how to do.
By the time the moustache was back on the king, I had told her my name was Nico, that I had been somewhere else a few minutes ago, and that I had apparently been given shenanigans.
“What does it do?”
“I was hoping you might know.”
She wiped oil off the king's lip. “I do now owe Gedd an apology. Hold the stand straight.”
Her name was Tansy. She had a wagon, a shaggy bay pony, a puppet theatre, and a goat called Hobnob. She also had half a loaf of bread and decided that watching me stare at it was making the rest of her work difficult.
I ate sitting on the wagon's lowered tailboard. Hobnob nosed my sister's coat, which I had put beside me. He was a grey goat with a cream beard, a crooked left horn, and a white patch on his side shaped vaguely like an unfinished country.
“He'll eat the buttons,” Tansy said.
I put the jacket inside the wagon.
She gave me a copper and let me try to make it turn into two coppers. It remained one. I announced that the bread was a magnificent banquet. It remained bread, although Hobnob appeared willing to give it the benefit of the doubt.
“Perhaps you need an audience,” she said.
I bowed to the goat and declared myself very rich.
Hobnob chewed.
“Perhaps not,” she said, taking back the copper. “Help me set the stools. Stay for the show and you can have supper. There's a blanket if you need to sleep under the wagon.”
Her second act involved Hobnob, a low three-legged stool, and a pasteboard crown painted gold. In rehearsal I was the king. She rattled a dented tin, and Hobnob bowed, bending his front legs and sticking his rear end into the air.
I applauded. He stayed bent.
“Pay him.” She put a piece of oat cake in my hand.
Once I had paid him, he came up onto the stool, caught the crown between his horns, and removed it from my head. Tansy rattled the tin again. He carried his prize proudly back to her, and she exchanged it for another piece of cake.
“What if he won't take the crown?” I asked.
“He takes the crown.”
“What if I need him to do something else?”
“Then wait till he's taken the crown.”
There were rules here. They just seemed to belong to the goat.
For the afternoon show, she put me behind the puppet theatre to work the painted sun. Every time the king said he was the greatest ruler under the heavens, I lowered it onto his head. I enjoyed this enormously.
Then Lord Parget arrived.
His men cleared two stools for him and his boots. He wore a crimson hat with a white plume, and, beneath it, more glossy brown hair than appeared reasonable on a man of his age.
During Hobnob's act, Tansy asked for a volunteer. Lord Parget raised his hand before anyone else could.
“The crown, my lord,” she said, offering it.
“I've brought my own.”
“Hobnob knows that one.”
“He can learn. That's the point of a trained animal.”
Tansy hesitated. His two guards stood just behind his shoulders. She set the stool in front of him and rattled the tin.
Hobnob bowed. Lord Parget clapped. Hobnob remained bowed.
“The cake,” Tansy said.
“Very good,” said Lord Parget, waving him up.
Hobnob waited.
Eventually Tansy gave Lord Parget the cake. Hobnob ate it, climbed the stool, and hooked a horn under the brim of the crimson hat.
The plume was pinned through the hat into the hair underneath.
Both came away together.
Hobnob trotted back to Tansy wearing the hat sideways, with Lord Parget's hair hanging from his crooked horn.
I made a noise behind the puppet theatre that I tried to turn into a cough. It was unsuccessful. The children in front did not try at all.
Lord Parget stood up.
“That animal comes with me.”
Tansy had already rescued the hat. She smoothed it with both hands. “He's done the act you asked for. Your hat's sound. I'm sorry about the—”
“With me.”
One guard took Hobnob's lead. The other put a hand on Tansy's shoulder when she reached for it.
“Damage to my person,” Lord Parget said. He snatched the hat, glanced at the children, and lowered his voice. “He'll join my collection. Perhaps a competent keeper can train him.”
Tansy stepped forward again. The guard squeezed her shoulder. I came out from behind the theatre with the painted sun still in my hand.
“That's her goat.”
Lord Parget's eyes went no higher than the painted sun. “And that is mine.”
They took Hobnob away. He stopped twice to investigate food on the ground.
For several minutes Tansy packed without speaking. She put the puppet king in his box, wrapped the sun, and folded the theatre's curtains into the wagon. I helped. Once I asked what we were going to do. She pointed at a crate, and I carried it.
When the wagon was packed, she took down a green tabard embroidered with turnips.
“He's tied behind the red tent,” she said. “Outside the west gate of the reviewing ring. They'll put him in Parget's carriage after the procession. The two men watch the gate. If they look somewhere else, I can get his lead and bring him straight back here.”
She put the long tabard over my grey hoodie and pulled up my hood. The tabard had a fringe round the neck and smelt of dust and old apples.
“Who am I?”
“Someone from the city. There's a festival inspector due, and nobody's seen him. You ask the men questions. You ask them over there.” She pointed to the far side of the ring, where viewing stools stood beneath a red awning. “Don't go near Hobnob. Don't make them move him.”
“I could do the moustache again.”
“You could also do the bread again. Ask questions.”
She handed me the pasteboard crown. “Put that in your belt. If he sees it he'll want to finish his act, and I don't need him stopping to perform.”
The ring was only ropes between posts, but I hesitated outside it as though it were a castle. I could see Hobnob through a gap between tents, tethered beyond the west gate. One guard stood in the opening; the other leaned against a post beside him. Tansy had brought the wagon up behind the red tent. The way back to it was six paces long.
I adjusted the tabard.
“I am,” I whispered, “a very important visiting official.”
The fringe rose round my neck and stiffened into a collar so tall I could barely turn my head. Between it and the hood, most of my face was hidden. Each embroidered turnip acquired a little golden crown.
I touched one. It was cloth, stitched tightly into cloth.
“Sir?” said the guard at the gate.
I would have preferred time to think about the turnips, but he was already moving aside.
“The festival,” I said. “I am here concerning it.”
“The inspector! We were told to expect you before noon.”
“Yes,” I said, with all the indignation of a man who had been waiting to expect himself too.
He led me towards the red awning. The second guard followed. Outside the gate, Tansy moved towards Hobnob.
It was working.
Lord Parget stood to greet me. His hat was back on his head and the plume stood at a defiant angle. He offered me a cushioned stool, called for wine, and apologized for the dust.
Nobody had apologized to me for dust before.
I sat. Someone put a cup in my hand. Lord Parget asked whether the spectacle had been satisfactory, and for a moment it seemed perfectly reasonable that I should have an opinion worth hearing about spectacles. The guard who had squeezed Tansy's shoulder stood quietly behind me.
“I've acquired a remarkable animal,” Lord Parget said. “Too good for the woman who had it. You must see him.”
The sensible answer was no. The useful answer was to ask about the procession until Tansy and Hobnob were gone.
Instead, I thought: if he liked me, perhaps I could get the goat back without making her steal him. I could be the person who came back with something, for once, instead of the person waiting with the coats.
“Certainly,” I said. “Bring him here. I'll inspect him.”
The second guard turned at once.
Through the tall collar I caught a glimpse of Tansy stopping beside the red tent.
“There's no need to hurry,” I added.
Lord Parget laughed. “He'd hurry for nobody.”
The guard led Hobnob through the gate and tied him to a post several yards inside the ring. A new length of rope went across the opening. Both guards took their places there again while servants moved the procession's banners past the tents. Tansy's six clear paces had become a rope, two men, and all the width of a moving procession.
Hobnob saw the crown in my belt.
He bowed.
Lord Parget watched from beneath the awning. “Well? Does he answer to you?”
I tried to gesture Hobnob upright. He remained bowed, waiting to be paid.
“He's considering,” I said.
“So am I.”
I got off the cushioned stool. The collar caught my cup and tipped wine down my front. One guard stepped forward, laughing, and took it from me.
Tansy was outside the ropes along the west side, some distance from the guarded gate. I walked past Hobnob to the rail, keeping him between myself and Lord Parget. She crouched to adjust her boot, and I bent down as though something needed inspecting there too.
“What did I tell you?” she whispered.
“I know.”
“You brought him inside.”
“I thought I could ask for him back.”
“Then ask.”
I looked towards the awning. Lord Parget had unfolded a handkerchief and was pressing it carefully against his damp forehead beneath the rim of the hat.
“I liked being important,” I said. “I wanted him to keep thinking I was.”
Her fingers stopped on the lower rope. “Right. Stop it, then.”
Hobnob was still bent double. I could not bear to look at his patient rear end.
“Have you got a cake?”
She passed one through the rope. I took it back to Hobnob. When I paid him, he stood up and pushed his nose at my belt. I returned to the rail.
“I can do the act,” I said. “Over there. They'll have to watch me.”
Tansy looked across at the awning. Her three-legged stool had been set aside nearby with the other performers' things.
“They'll watch him too.”
“Only till he takes the crown.”
She considered me, then drew her dented tin from her coat. “I'll loose him. He'll finish the act, then come back to this. Keep them looking at you till I've got him.”
I nodded.
“Don't try to improve it.”
I carried the stool to the east side of the ring, just in front of Lord Parget. The collar scraped the underside of my chin. I took out the crown and put it on my head.
“To inspect a performance,” I announced, “one must participate in it.”
“Must one?” said Lord Parget.
“Oh, absolutely.”
I put one foot on the stool and wobbled.
The lord leaned forward.
I put the other foot up. I had watched my sister stand on a surfboard once, while holding her towel. This did not prove useful.
“Behold,” I said, swaying, “the King of Turnips.”
The crowned vegetables on my chest brightened. The high collar collapsed under my chin, unravelling into a long golden beard.
It itched. It also reached my knees.
The lord's mouth opened.
I tried to bow. A strand of beard caught beneath my shoe. The stool tilted towards Lord Parget, who lunged backwards with a shout. The two guards ran from the gate and caught my arms. One planted his boot against a stool leg. The other shoved me upright, directly in front of their employer.
Through the beard I saw Tansy duck under the west rope.
“Steady, sir,” said the first guard, no longer smiling.
“An excellent motto,” I said.
Tansy freed Hobnob from the tether. He looked straight at my crown, then bowed again. She held out a cake. He stayed bent long enough to make her bring it all the way to his mouth. Then he trotted towards the stool, and she went back to the west gate with her tin.
“Remarkable,” said Lord Parget. “You haven't said a word to him.”
I bent to put the crown within reach. Hobnob hooked it. The loose beard slipped over his crooked horn too.
The tin rattled at the west gate.
Hobnob turned to carry his prize back. The pasteboard cracked against his horn, and the beard pulled tight. It was still sewn to my collar.
I came off the stool into the nearer guard. The other caught a handful of green cloth to stop me falling, and the neckline began to tear. The stool went over with a crack. I landed on my knees, with Hobnob trying to take my clothes back to Tansy.
Lord Parget rose so fast that his hat slid over one eye. He caught it with both hands and turned his back to straighten it.
I gripped the torn neckline and pulled. The seam gave way. The beard came loose, and Hobnob trotted west with it dangling from his horn beneath the crown.
“Inspection complete,” I said.
The guard tried to haul me upright. I clung to his sleeve and let my knees fold again. He grabbed his companion for help. Across the ring, Tansy took the broken crown and beard from Hobnob and paid him.
“Get up,” said Lord Parget, still straightening his hat.
I waited until Tansy had slipped the gate rope off its post. She let it fall and stepped over it, Hobnob following. Then I released the guard's sleeve and ducked beneath his reaching hand.
My hood had fallen back. I was on all fours, with a ragged green neckline round my shoulders and my red trainers in full view.
“That's no inspector,” said Lord Parget.
I ran.
The torn tabard flapped against my shoulder. The stool lay broken behind me. Neither politely repaired itself as the guards started after me.
Tansy's wagon was already moving. I caught the tailboard and pulled myself onto it as we jolted along the track behind the tents. The broken crown and its acquired beard lay on a crate. Hobnob stood beside me with his lead tied to a ring, chewing the corner of a sack.
“He'll eat that,” I said.
“Take it away, then.”
I did. Behind us somebody blew a whistle. Tansy snapped the reins, and the wagon gathered enough speed to make me sit down hard. By the time we reached the trees, the fair's music was louder than the shouting.
We did not stop until the tents were out of sight.
Tansy checked Hobnob's legs, his horns, and the place where the tether had rubbed his neck. Then she checked the torn tabard. I took it off and laid it carefully beside her.
“I'll pay for it,” I said.
“With the second copper?”
“I'll work.”
She turned the tear over. Her orange patches had neat, close stitches. I had a feeling mine were going to have to be the same.
“You can start by mending that. Then you're on stools tomorrow. Keep an eye out for Parget's colours. We've lost a fair, and if he follows us we'll have to lose another.”
I nodded. “Can I still sleep under the wagon?”
She looked up. “Yes.”
I let out a breath I had apparently been saving since the field.
Inside the wagon, my sister's coat lay where I had folded it, with a small damp mark on one sleeve. I moved it into the puppet box before Hobnob could investigate further.
Tansy gave me the wooden king to hold while she packed the damaged crown. One end of his horsehair moustache was peeling loose.
“At least,” I said, trying to sound confident, “I know how to wear one of these now.”
The moustache landed across my forehead.
Tansy looked at it. She looked at me. Then she reached into the wagon for the oil.
“Hold still.”
I held still.