Abarat 2: Days of Magic, Nights of War. Clive Barker

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       8 A LIFE IN THE THEATRE

      IT WAS THE FIRST time on their journey together that Candy and Malingo had realized that they had different tastes. Up until now they’d traveled in step with each other, more or less. But faced with the apparently limitless diversions and entertainments of Babilonium, they found they weren’t quite so well matched. When Malingo wanted to see the green werewolf star juggler, Candy was itching to go on the Prophet of Doom ride. When Candy had been Doomed six times, and wanted to sit quietly and gather her breath, Malingo was ready to go take a ride on the Spirit Train to Hell.

      So they decided to separate, to follow their own fancies. Occasionally, despite the incredible density of the crowd, they would find each other, as friends will. They’d take a minute or two to exchange a few excited words about what they’d seen or done, and then they’d part again, to find some new recreation.

      On the third time this happened, however, Malingo reappeared with the leathery flaps he had on his face standing proud with excitement. He was wearing a cockeyed grin.

      “Lady! Lady!” he said. “You have to come and look at this!”

      “What is it?”

      “I can’t really describe it. You just have to come!”

      His excitement was infectious. Candy put off going to watch the Huffaker Snail Tabernacle Choir and followed through the throng to a tent. It was not one of the huge circus-sized tents, but it was large enough to hold several hundred people. Inside there were about thirty rows of wooden benches, most of them filled by an audience that was roaringly entertained by the play that was being performed onstage.

      “Sit! Sit!” Malingo urged her. “You have to see this!”

      Candy sat down on the end of a crowded bench. There was no room for Malingo anywhere nearby, so he remained standing.

      The setting of the play was a single large room stuffed to over-capacity with books, antique ornaments and fanciful furniture, the arms and legs of which were carved with the scowling heads and tremendous talons of Abaratian monsters. All of this was pure theatrical illusion, of course; most of the room was painted on canvas, and the details of the furniture were painted too. As a result, none of it was very solid. The whole set shook whenever a cast member slammed a door or opened a window. And there was plenty of that. The play was a wild farce, which the actors performed with abandon, yelling and throwing themselves around like clowns in a circus ring.

      The audience was laughing so hard that many of the jokes had to be repeated for the benefit of those who didn’t hear them the first time. Glancing along the row in which she was sitting, Candy saw people with tears of laughter pouring down their faces.

      “What’s so funny?” Candy said to Malingo.

      “You’ll see,” he replied.

      She went on watching. There was a shrill exchange going on between a young woman in a bright orange wig and a bizarre individual called Jingo (that much she heard), who was running around the room like a crazy man, hiding under the table one moment and hanging from the swaying scenery the next. To judge by the audience’s response this was about the funniest thing they’d ever seen. But Candy was still lost as to what it was all about. Until—

      —a man in a bright yellow suit came onstage, demanding rum.

      Candy’s jaw fell open. She looked up at Malingo with an expression of disbelief on her face. He smiled from ear to ear and nodded, as if to say: Yes, that’s right. It’s what you think it is.

      “Why are you keeping me here, Jaspar Codswoddle?” the young woman demanded.

      “Because it suits me, Qwandy Tootinfruit!”

      Candy suddenly laughed so loudly that everybody else around her stopped laughing for a moment. A few puzzled faces were turned in her direction.

      “Qwandy Tootinfruit…” she whispered. “It’s a very funny name…”

      Meanwhile, onstage: “You’re my prisoner,” Codswoddle was saying to Qwandy. “And you’re going to stay here as long as it suits me.”

      At this, the girl ran to the door; but the Codswoddle character threw an elaborate gesture in her direction, and there was a flash and a puff of yellow smoke, and a large grotesque face appeared carved on the door, snarling like a rabid beast.

      Jingo hid under the table, blabbering. The audience went wild with appreciation at the stage trickery. Malingo took a moment to lean over and whisper to Candy.

      “We’re famous,” he said. “It’s our story, only sillified.”

      “Sillified?” СКАЧАТЬ