The next morning, Ezo woke up with Kammon and had breakfast with the other performers. Ezo had no desire to get in front of a group of people and try to entertain them; however, after a good night’s sleep, he was happy to join the crowds.
Kammon wasn’t so much wearing a costume as not wearing proper clothes. Among the players, it wasn’t uncommon to see men without the formal layers of clothing that were demanded in polite society, but this was a bit much. He wore tight breeches and a loose shirt with billowing sleeves. The neck of the shirt had no buttons and was cut open so that his upper torso showed to any who wanted to look.
And they did. Kammon, with his dark hair curling just slightly at the nape of his neck and his brilliant eyes. In this outfit, he looked nothing like a soldier. He looked wild. Untamed. Happy.
If Ezo thought they could get away with it, he’d beg Kammon to stay. Forget the libraries and the War-Sworn and the Vow and perform with the players for the rest of their days.
Kammon would never let it go, now that Ezo had the Vow, and Ezo could never drop his search for the truth about what Jacob had been doing. It was a nice dream for the future, though.
“Are you going to join the crowd today?” Kammon asked as he cleaned up his breakfast.
“Of course. It’s been a while since I got to see a good show. I’m going to enjoy the day quite a bit, I think.”
Kammon smiled at him as he leaned in and kissed him quickly. “See you in the crowd.”
“Just make sure they all keep their hands to themselves until I get there!” Ezo shouted after him. That caused a laugh to go up among the other performers, and Kammon winked at Ezo as the players teased him as they walked out.
Ezo was prepared to finish his breakfast in silence, but Tamis and Mathis came running into the tent.
“They’re about to start, Ezo!” Tamis said.
“Yeah?” he asked, surprised that the two boys had come for him.
“We’re spending the day with you,” Mathis said. “Jaroh wants us to make sure you watch all the performances so you can report back on the new acts tonight.”
Ezo laughed. After the conversation they’d had the night before, he wasn’t surprised that Jaroh was keeping an eye on him. He was curious about the additions to the show, though, and to spend time with the boys, so he was happy for the company.
“Let’s go then,” he said. Ezo followed the two out of the tent.
The players were experienced at setting up an attraction, and the locals were already enjoying the many thrills that came with that. While they kept their personal wagons with their lodgings and supplies at the back, the stage wagons and tents were placed in a circle, with the largest tent at the far end, driving people to it.
Between the welcoming arch and the main tent was a cacophony of hawkers and performers vying for the public’s attention. Interspersed among everything else was a series of food stalls and other attractions.
Ezo could feel Kammon, but he wasn’t in the circle of the wagons. When he looked toward the village, he sensed his magic there. “Kammon?” he asked Tamis.
“He went with Jaroh to draw the crowd in. They’ll be back soon,” the boy answered.
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“Kammon is probably really good at that,” Ezo admitted.
Mathis pulled him over to the first small wagon stage, and Ezo let his thoughts about Kammon subside. They hadn’t talked about his experience the first day because of their conversation with Jaroh and Alvrey the night before. He’d have to pin him down tonight and ask if he was enjoying it. For now, though, he gave his attention to the performance before him. Three of the performers were playing lively music, and a crowd was dancing in front of the platform.
After the song was over, Ezo continued to drift; from the main stage and the plays that spilled one after the other, to the music, to the acrobats and the many performers that walked between the tents and wagons.
Kammon and Jaroh returned, and they had a large crowd following. Ezo watched his lover from afar, letting the crowd have their turn gawking at him. Ezo had plenty of opportunities in private. The elementalist didn’t disappoint, though.
He kept to one element, which was smart since doing anything else would draw too much attention to them. He tossed orange flames into the air and juggled them over his head with ease while Jaroh worked up the crowd about the ‘dangers’ of his act.
They didn’t call him by his name. If people knew he was the Calamity, they’d be running. Or come running with pitchforks to drive them away. They just called him ‘The Flame’ and the audience oohhhed and aahhhed over his work. Ezo was tempted to steal the show by dousing his fire with water and taking over the juggling act. But then Jaroh would throw him into costume, and Ezo had no desire to become a performer.
No, he’d stay on the back side of things.
The boys continued to drag him from one thing to the next, pointing out everything from the new performers and stalls to the improved acts and new plays. He was a captive audience for them and even once convinced them to tell a tale for him that drew a small crowd of local children.
As the day turned to late afternoon, Ezo’s unease grew. He loved the players. He’d traveled for months with them before he’d found the libraries, and they were as much a family to him as Jacob had been.
Every day that he and Kammon traveled with them, though, was another day they could be caught together. The Imperium wouldn’t let the people who sheltered them off without punishment.
He wanted to ask Kammon to leave them behind and continue alone, but it was a risk he didn’t think his lover would take. Even if the trope didn’t hide them, there was the added benefit of having Alvrey close. She was the only healer Kammon trusted with what was happening between them. Kammon wasn’t likely to leave her behind, with the unexplained Vow still etched in Ezo’s bones.
By the end of the day, he accepted their need to take Jaroh’s offer, but he wouldn’t be comfortable until they got the Imperium off their backs.
There wasn’t any recent news from the town on that front. Kammon was probably right. The Imperium wouldn’t advertise Kammon and Ezo’s departure, but they weren’t likely to forget them either. Neither would Voth.
When the last of the evening performances was over, Ezo walked back to his tent. Kammon was already there, stripping out of his costume to put on his own clothes.
“I don’t know. I kinda like the costume,” he teased Kammon.
“I don’t see you in one.”
“Prefer to see you out of one.”
Kammon smiled at him as he walked past Ezo and closed their tent flap. “Guess you got here just in time then.”
They arrived for dinner late, but Kammon sat with the other performers with an easy grace that hadn’t been there the day before. He was one of them now. Ezo watched and felt a glimmer of guilt. How often did Kammon have to adapt - to perform- to gain other people’s acceptance? To get them to look past their fear to the man he was?
“Kammon’s not what people think he is,” Jaroh stood beside Ezo, watching Kammon as he laughed along with the other performers.
“No, he’s really not. It’s good to see them accept him.”
“It goes both ways,” Jaroh said. “He’s not a trusting man.”
Ezo snorted at that, but he understood what Jaroh meant. “You spent a lot of time with him today.”
“‘The Flame’ is an excellent addition to the show. If he wanted a permanent place, we’d take him.”
It was a genuine offer, and Ezo knew that. With everything else that was happening around them, with the trouble that came with Kammon’s name, Jaroh was offering him a safe haven. “I’ll let him know,” he said.
He wouldn’t tell Jaroh that they couldn’t settle down now, or that they maybe never could. Instead, he smiled as he took a seat next to Kammon.
When Kammon put his arm around Ezo’s shoulder, Ezo couldn’t help but think that a future traveling with the players and retreating periodically to his library was a beautiful dream. A future he didn’t dare to think about just yet.