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Paddy didn’t know anyone’s name, and no one had made an effort to introduce themselves to him. He knew the carnival owner, Monroe, of course, he was the man who had let him join the travelling troupe. Other than that, he could identify the other members by sight, but he didn’t know anyone’s name.
He huddled in the corner of the wagon, wrapped up in his cloak and practiced small magic, keeping himself as out of the way as possible. Outside, rain drummed against the tops of the caravan, keeping it from being awkwardly silent, but keeping everyone else on edge. They were soaked and tired and snappy. Paddy didn’t want to invoke anyone’s irritation, especially when he was still new.
The wagon jolted to a stop, and he glanced up.
The curtain at the back was shoved aside, and the blue dragonborn that he had seen around a couple times leaned into the space to grab one of the boxes that had been packed in there. With hardly a grunt, he dragged it to the edge and then hoisted it up.
“Are we stopping for the night?” Paddy asked.
The dragonborn gave him a look. “Yeah,” he grunted and then walked away with his load.
Paddy unfolded himself, stretching his limbs carefully so that he didn’t collapse immediately. He jumped out of the back of the wagon, bringing up his hood to protect himself from the worst of the weather. His boots sent up splatters of mud.
Everyone else was already busy unloading boxes, setting up shelter and bedding down for the night. No one had given Paddy a job to do, so he spotted where the dragonborn had walked off to and headed in that direction.
He was setting up a tent with the help of a pale purple tiefling who had clambered up into the trees to tie up support ropes. She and the dragonborn were chatting while they worked, but they both fell silent once Paddy got close.
“Hello,” he tried, giving them a wave.
He was used to meeting new dignitaries and other nobles, and he knew how to make small talk and socialize to impress. He could talk about the weather for hours over finger sandwiches and tea and he knew how to make conversation about the dullest topics from flower arrangement to the very act of grass growing. Paddy had faced down roomfuls of important people all staring him down and expecting the world out of him. He knew how to introduce himself to intimidating people, but he had never been stared at by a mud-covered dragonborn twice his size and a tiefling whose shirt was practically falling off of her.
He didn’t know where to look or how to act. He kept a smile as the two looked him up and down.
“Do you need any help?” he finally asked because the silence was getting to be too much.
“No,” the tiefling said, slinging the pile of ropes over her shoulder. “We’ve got this handled.” She wound a few ends around her legs, tipping backward over the branch she had been sitting on.
Paddy had seen her dance with silk before, but still, seeing her fall out of a tree with seemingly no support made him jump. Before he could rush into action, the ropes tightened around her legs, spinning her around a couple time before bringing her to a safe stop above the ground as she rolled over and then successfully dismounted.
She passed the ends off to the dragonborn, who tied them to the canvas of their tent and then hoisted it upright. With a snap, it unfolded and somehow became a tent, fully functioning and safe from the rain. It was amazing. Paddy had never seen anything like it.
“That was amazing,” he said because what else was there to say?
“Hey!”
The shout made the dragonborn and tiefling flinch, and Paddy turned to see where it had come from.
He recognized Monroe, the owner, the one who had let him join this whole troupe. He was a pale man, tall and strong, and not anyone that Paddy would normally want to be associated with. He walked with a swagger that made him seem completely untouchable.
His icy gaze was focused on the dragonborn.
“Hey, worm,” he yelled again. “Dragonborn, I’m talking to you!”
With a wince, the dragonborn turned and looked the man up and down, barely holding back the snarl that was curling his mouth. He grunted in acknowledgement.
The man laughed and gave Paddy a ‘what can you do?’ shrug. “You’d think his brains had been replaced with muscles,” he said. “Well, I’m not paying him to think. There are other tents that need to be set up on the other side of the camp.”
The tiefling put a hand on the dragonborn’s arm, as if to stop him from torching the man right then and there. He very well could have. But he just hissed between clenched teeth and then stomped off to do as he was told.
Paddy only caught the exchange because he was close to them. The man didn’t notice at all, and the tiefling was quick to disappear into the tent she had just put up. After a moment of hesitation, Paddy followed her inside.
The tent was a lot roomier on the inside than it looked on the outside, and the tiefling was already rolling out mats to cover the wet ground and make things more comfortable. She didn’t acknowledge him.
Wordlessly, Paddy began unloading boxes along with her. He unpacked the food that would be used for tonight’s dinner, making sure that nothing was bruised or rotting or unfit to eat. The tiefling unrolled beds and set up sleeping quarters. They worked together in silence until the dragonborn burst into the test with a snarl and kicked over one of the boxes.
Paddy flinched. The tiefling didn’t.
“I’m going to eat that human one day,” the dragonborn said with a growl. “If he calls me a worm one more time!”
“Better than devil” the tiefling said. She pulled a bottle of alcohol out of one of the boxes and uncorked it with a snap. “You should hear the things he says to me in bed.” She pulled down the front of her shirt to show the bruises that peppered her throat and chest.
The dragonborn snatched the bottle from her and downed half of it in one huge swallow. He hissed at the burn and collapsed on one of the bedrolls. The tiefling took the bottle and took a drink for herself, coughing at the burn before sitting down next to him.
Paddy kept his head down and stuck to his side of the tent, not sure if he was welcome in the conversation.
“Just don’t let Monroe hear you complaining,” the tiefling said.
The dragonborn just scoffed. “And what is he going to do? Fire his only strongman?”
The tiefling snorted. “Make you sleep with the other animals.”
“Make me carry boxes like a horse?” the dragonborn suggested with a smirk.
“Make you stand outside all night holding up the tent like a rope,” the tiefling said with a laugh.
It was like a game, them trying to one-up each other. What was the worst that Monroe do to them? They trailed off, passing the bottle between them until it was empty. It was obviously an inside joke between them, and it was clear Paddy wasn’t welcome in the conversation. Paddy wasn’t sure if he should leave or just curl up in the shadows and try to remain unnoticed. He didn’t get to do either.
“Hey, elf,” the dragonborn said. “What’s your story? How did you end up here?”
With alcohol in his system, they were friendlier, it seemed. Paddy turned and nervously fiddled with the hem of his shirt. He looked at them and then at the ground. Should he sit down with them? That seemed too friendly. He leaned against the box that he had been messing with and tried to look casual.
“I saw you perform at my hometown,” he said. “And I loved it! You guys were amazing! It looked like so much fun so I wanted to join. I know magic!” He demonstrated, creating an illusion of lights and sparkles as a sort of wow-the-crowd gesture.
“Fun,” the dragonborn scoffed.
The tiefling just clicked her tongue and shook her head. “You poor thing,” she said.
Paddy frowned, the spell dying on his fingertips. “What do you mean?”
The dragonborn looked down at his claws. The tiefling sucked a sharp breath in through her teeth and didn’t look at Paddy.
Paddy dropped his hands and the magic and stepped a bit closer to them. “What do you mean?” he repeated more firmly.
The dragonborn shook his head. “I’m not gonna say it.”
The tiefling sighed and after a moment of silence, she still wouldn’t look Paddy in the eye. “The carnival isn’t glamorous,” she said. She snapped her fingers and set out a spray of sparks, similar to Paddy’s own magic but more sparkly and pink. “We make it look glamorous. That’s our job.”
Paddy’s stomach was twisting with all the nerves he had been feeling the whole day.
Before the tiefling could continue, the dragonborn put a hand on her knee. Paddy didn’t understand until the flaps of the tent were swept open and the man from before stepped inside. Monroe—Paddy recognized him. He swept his gaze over all three of them.
“Copper,” he said. “Come with me.”
The name shook Paddy before he realized what had even been said. He had been so used to living around other elves and surrounded by friendly faces that leaving his hometown had been jarring enough already. But hearing himself called a slur, by a human no less, felt like a punch in the gut. He had never been called a copper. Never. He had heard the name passed between elves in friendly gesture. When it was said by anyone else, it cut like a knife.
Monroe didn’t seem to notice his distress as he turned around and swept back out of the tent without another word.
“Better follow him,” the dragonborn said as soon as they were alone again. “Monroe doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“He does this with everyone if it makes you feel any better,” the tiefling said.
It didn’t make him feel better, but Paddy didn’t have much of a choice but to step out of the tent and find where the man had walked off to. He caught a glimpse of the coattails disappearing around a corner and managed to hurry just in time to catch the man walking into an extravagant tent.
It was three times as large as the one the tiefling and dragonborn had set up and made out of a much more luxurious material. Even from the outside, Paddy could see that it had different rooms divided up inside, and as he pushed through the heavy front curtains, that was confirmed.
The main area was obviously for sitting around and chatting with friends with its heavy couches already set up. Paddy could easily imagine tea and finger foods being served since he had spent many afternoons just like that. Off to the left, he could catch the small glimpse of a bedroom with a complete canopy bed already set up instead of all the bedrolls Paddy had seen everywhere else. Off to the right, it looked like an office area with a heavy wooden desk and several potted plants sitting on the carpeted ground.
This was where the Monroe was, already flipping through papers and not even paying attention to Paddy.
“Um, hello?” Paddy asked, not sure how else he was supposed to announce his presence.
“Come in!” Monroe said, barely looking up as he gestured to one of the chairs in front of the desk. “Take a seat.”
Paddy obeyed since he didn’t know what else to do.
“I was designing your poster,” Monroe said, still not looking up. He was sketching on a large sheet of paper, swooping, hurried lines that slowly came together until he turned it around to show it to Paddy.
It was a crude drawing of himself, but even then, it took Paddy a moment to even realize that. It was a caricature of a wood elf, drawing with startling yellow eyes and wild brown hair filled with leaves and twigs. The thing was horribly skinny and twisted around so that it was obviously anatomically incorrect just to show off all the assets that made a wood elf a wood elf. It was dressed in short jagged clothes, like it couldn’t properly sew or just couldn’t be bothered to dress better.
Across the top of the page, written in that beautiful swilling carnival script that had drawn Paddy’s attention in the first place, were the words “Spectacular! Never Seen Before!” Surrounding the picture were even more descriptions. “A Magical Elf to Dazzle and Astound!” “Tricks and Treats that Will Make You Laugh!”
Across the bottom was the slogan that turned Paddy’s stomach.
“A Copper to See a Copper!”
Monroe looked incredibly proud of the whole thing.
“Is it . . . necessary?” Paddy asked. He didn’t want to offend the owner since he hadn’t even performed yet but he didn’t want to just blindly agree to such a horrible poster.
“Oh, of course it’s necessary,” Monroe said, turning the paper back around so that he could continue to sketch. “We need to let people know that we have a new act. People won’t come to see your performance if they don’t even know you exist.” He made the drawing’s ears bigger as he talked.
“No, I understand that,” Paddy said. The more Monroe worked, the worse it looked. “It’s just. . . . I’m not sure if it’s . . . . accurate?”
What else was he supposed to say?!
“Oh, it doesn’t have to be accurate,” Monroe said, waving his pen dismissively. “It just has to get people’s attention. And what better way than an amazing poster?” He set the pen aside and held up the drawing, looking it over and then nodding in approval. “We’ll get these printed out and start hanging them up. Just you wait, soon people will be paying buckets to see you!”
Paddy chewed his lip.
Was he allowed to protest further? What would Monroe do if he just outright said he didn’t like the poster? Because it really was horrible. It was all the caricatures of a wood elf that Paddy didn’t like and were so far from accurate. And the tagline made Paddy want to rip his hair out. This must be what the dragonborn and tiefling were talking about.
He gritted his teeth and did his best to smile.
“It looks great,” he said. “I can’t wait.”
“That’s the spirit!” Monroe said and then offered the paper to Paddy. “Here, take that. I’m sure you know a spell to replicate it. We need dozens of copies if we’re going to get the word out.”
Paddy kept his jaw locked as he took the paper. “Of course,” he said. “I’ll get right on that.”
Monroe was already busy with another pile of papers on the desk, no longer paying attention to him as he worked. Paddy didn’t get more of a dismissal than that, so he turned and hurried out of the tent before he said something he might regret.
Outside, the rest of the camp was slowly taking form, with more tents being set up and animals being unloaded from their cages. For the first time, Paddy noticed that not everything was perfect.
The elephant that had dazzled him during the first night of the performance back in his hometown had scars and open wounds on the backs of its legs that made it limp as it was led around by a lead wrapped around its neck. It flapped its ears in panic went the halfling leading it reached a hand out to pet it, like it was expecting to be struck instead.
The horses that were already tethered near the water basin had spit and foam drying around their mouths and the skin under their harnesses and across their chests where a saddle would sit was rubbed red and raw, bloody in places. They all looked exhausted.
And the lion that had seemed so brave and majestic when Paddy had seen it in the high top was now slumped in its cage, its mane mangy and patchy without the glamor of the spotlight to make it look like the wild beast that it truly was. Its ribs showed whenever it took a wheezing breath, and it looked like its tail had been broken multiple times and had never healed right.
Everything looked ugly and bare without the spotlight. Monroe maybe even used magic to make everything appear nicer and prettier than it actually was.
The people all limped or hobbled around the campsite, exhausted and tired like they could no longer care. Many favored arms or legs, and Paddy counted more than a few bruises on faces and arms and chests.
He was part of this now. The carnival had travelled so far in a day, and it was too dangerous to risk turning around and trying to make it back to his home. He was stuck, as much as he hated it.
He walked back to the only tent he knew, wondering if the dragonborn and tiefling would still be there. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk to them, but he also didn’t want to be alone.
The dragonborn and tiefling were still there, sharing another bottle of alcohol that they had gotten from somewhere. They were laughing with each other and fell silent when Paddy entered the tent. He didn’t want to be hurt by that but he was. He didn’t say anything about it, just walked to the far side of the tent and collapsed on the ground, dropping his head into his hands.
“That rough?” the tiefling finally asked.
Paddy didn’t say anything.
“We told you,” the dragonborn said.
“Cut him a break,” the tiefling said, slugging his arm with a dull thud.
The next thing Paddy knew, she was easing the paper out of his hand and replacing it with the bottle. At first, he wanted to protest, but she had already taken it before he could. He looked up and almost regretted that because he had to watch her read it.
“A copper to see a—oh,” she said. “Oh. That’s bad. That’s worse than normal. I’m sorry.”
“Worse than normal?” the dragonborn said. He had pulled another bottle out of somewhere and had cracked it open. “Monroe is always bad. Don’t make it sound like you didn’t see this coming.”
The tiefling shot him a look. “Yeah, I know that,” she said. “But come on. Everyone’s first poster is bad.”
Paddy couldn’t deal with it anymore and he took a huge drink from the bottle.
He had had alcohol before. He had sipped wine at formal parties and his parents had allowed him fingers of sweet hard cider and sometimes stronger rum with sugar.
The stuff in the bottle tasted like paint. It burned his entire mouth and even when he got it down, it felt like he had swallowed fire. His entire chest felt like someone had inserted a hot coal, and he was coughing before he could stop himself. The tiefling took the bottle as he curled in on himself so that he didn’t spill anything.
“Easy,” she said, crouching next to him as he hacked his way through the burn and pounded his chest to help himself recover. She rubbed his shoulder with a hand, like that would do anything to help. “It’s dragonborn alcohol, stronger than anything. And you took a damn big swig for your first try.”
Paddy’s sinuses had been completely cleared, and snot and tears were streaming down his face. He felt like a mess and probably looked like one too.
Paddy didn’t think he had ever missed his family more in that moment.