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with the name that has been carved for her, because of the fall; because of the height of her twists and leaps; because of the wide, bright eye that never closes.

15.
    Everyone paints up. Boss believes in a real show.
    The aerialists are pink and brown and gold, and Boss makes them paint up all alike—round white faces like a set of dolls, thick black lines along the eyelids, gold shadow from the brow to the cheek and all the way out to their pulled-back hair. Their mouths are plastered white, so if their lips tremble no one can tell.
    Tumblers get red for their mouths, to match their jackets, and black pencil for their eyes. It gets frightening as the act goes on and the sweat leaves streaks of grey and red over their faces, but Boss doesn’t mind if they look scary, I guess.
    Ayar and Jonah don’t get anything except a little kohl. (“No one’s looking at your faces,” says Boss, pushing her work goggles back into the frizz of her hairline and looking at one or the other. “What would you two do with a clown’s face? Hopeless, both of you. Now come in here, Ayar, your right shoulder is bent.”)
    Bird makes up, too. Somehow she found silver shadow the same color as the iron plate, and she makes wide gunmetal smears over her eyelids and her good temple, staring defiantly into the trailer mirror, like she’s doing something she’s not supposed to.
    Stenos doesn’t wear anything but the kohl, not on his own. Sometimes Bird will turn from her seat at the big mirror and find where he’s standing (he’s within arm’s reach of her before a show, always), and she’ll look him right in the eye and draw one finger over his brow, or across his mouth, and leave a trail of grey on his skin.
    Stenos always looks upset afterwards, though you’d think he’d just tell her not to do that if he hates it so much. But he must be a glutton for punishment, because he’s there every night in his black costume, standing quietly just behind her, accepting whatever she gives.
    (Sometimes she holds out her hand like she wants to make him up, and when he leans in she takes hold of his throat and looks him in the eye like she’s settling some private fight. He never fights back—never even pulls away—and every time she holds out her hand he leans forward, no matter what. He performs some nights with a silver neck. I try not to look at them.)
    Bird’s the only one in the place who looks better made up. When she’s barefaced it just draws attention to where she’s been mended. It’s better when the paint is on, and you can take in her face like something she’s had done on purpose—I don’t know why Boss made the face plate iron. It just reminds the others what happened to her, and Bird doesn’t need any favors when it comes to being cast out.
    It’s best if you glance at her all made up and just let her gaze go. No point in looking deeper; if you look past the greasepaint at her left eye, you’ll get nothing back; it’s all glass.
    She’s gone cold mad over the years. The wind blows right through Bird.
    She scared even the government man, when he came to take Boss away—for all the good it did her.

16.
    After the posters went up in a city, we waited a day for people to make up their minds. In the meantime, we set up the tent, dropped beer barrels in the nearest cold water, and made the dancing girls run a lot of errands.
    They suited up in their shirts and spangles, draped themselves in scarves, snapped their metal casts over their hands. (Sunyat’s metal foot was shaped too pointed to walk on. She wore long skirts in the city, so no one would be suspicious when her feet came flashing into the ring.)
    “Right,” said Moonlight to me as they headed out of camp. “Anything you need, little man?”
    They were carrying coils of rope and a sack of rice, and some wiring Boss had decided she didn’t need. They’d barter in the city; drum up a little excitement by looking mysterious.
    I grinned. “Anything more valuable