The Gates of Winter - Mark Anthony [230]
Jace glanced at her watch. “The show's about to start.”
They raced up the stairs, Jace moving lightly, Travis lumbering after, up flight after flight, until his lungs burned and his legs quivered. Finally, they reached another door.
Jace placed her hand on it, then hesitated and glanced at him. “Are you really what they say you are?”
He fought for breath. “What do they say I am?”
“Dangerous.”
He rubbed his right hand. “I guess even they tell the truth sometimes.”
“Let me go first,” she said, and opened the door.
They were in an access corridor. Jace moved forward, and Travis followed. The corridor opened up into a long, narrow space. Metal scaffolding rose to a ceiling so high it was lost in shadows. Ropes dangled like spiderwebs, and spotlights shone like eyes in the gloom above. To the left was a cinder-block wall, while on the right a gigantic velvet curtain cascaded from above like a deep blue waterfall.
Various show personnel rushed in every direction, speaking into their headsets. A choir dressed in white robes huddled in a circle, engaged in breathing exercises. Several people sat in a row of chairs, looks of wonder and fear on their faces. Some clutched canes and crutches, others stared with blind eyes or hunched over as if in pain.
Jack kept moving, and Travis followed, but they had gone no more than ten steps before a pair of guards—two men—spotted them and approached. The crescent moons on their uniforms glowed in the dimness.
“Who is this man?” one of the guards said to Jace.
“One of today's sufferers,” Jace said matter-of-factly.
The other guard eyed Travis. “Where's his clearance badge?”
Jack licked her lips. “He's a last-minute addition. There wasn't time to laminate a badge for him. That's why I've escorted him here myself.”
The second guard's eyes narrowed in suspicion, but the first one's face was hard, implacable. His hand rested on the grip of the pistol at his hip. “No guest is allowed backstage without a badge, Ms. Windom. You should be aware of that policy.”
Jace drew a breath. Travis wondered what she was going to say. Before he could find out, a woman holding a clipboard rushed up to them.
“What's going on here?” Her hair was slipping out of the tight bun it had been drawn into. “It's five minutes to airtime. The backstage area has to be cleared of all nonessential personnel.”
Jace was faster than the other guards. “This man is another sufferer.”
The woman's eyes lit up. “Thank goodness. Why didn't you say so? The little kid with the seizures is out. His parents decided to take him to the hospital instead, so we're one short.” She grabbed Travis's arm and started pulling him along.
“Wait a minute,” the guard with the flat eyes said. “He doesn't have a badge.”
The woman glared back at the guards. “Badge? All I care is that he has an affliction.”
She led Travis away. The two guards started to follow, but Jace stepped in front of them. She glanced at Travis and gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“So what are you suffering from?”
Travis turned his head to stare at the woman. What she was talking about?
She let out a groan. “Please, don't let it be idiocy.” She stopped in front of the bank of chairs, then spoke slowly. “What is your affliction? What do you want Mr. Carson to cure?”
Travis looked at the people in the chairs: crippled, thin, hunched over in pain. Finally, he understood.
The woman was looking at him expectantly. What did he say? I can do magic—magic that kills people. Cure me of that.
Instead he said, “I'm dyslexic.”
She frowned, then gave a resigned sigh. “Well, I suppose that's something. You're sure you don't have epilepsy?”
“Sorry. Just the dyslexia.”
“Well, I guess beggars can't be choosers.” She pointed to the last empty chair. “Sit right here. The show will begin with a medley of hope sung by the choir. While they're singing, Mr. Carson will come out and talk to each of you to get your story. You're to answer his questions as quickly as possible, and don't even think about asking for an autograph. When the healing segment begins, I'll come back to lead