Maddening, maddening, maddening! These demands, these horrible unreasonable demands – money, yes, they all wanted money and for what? Oh, so the sweet little old lady lost her husband and now she can’t pay for his funeral or the house, and so what? The Wyvern killed some of his people, too, though if anyone was so useless as to die in that attack then maybe they deserved it.

Except for Snowflake. The gem of his collection, his prize, yes, he needed Snowflake again and then the crowds would come back and the money would flow. All of this would be a laugh. When he closed his eyes he could see the glory of his circus just as it was and Snow flying through the air; such a graceful performer, such perfection, such angelic beauty. He’d revel once more in the cheering of the crowds and the chanting of his name – yes, yes! They would chant it.

“Master.”

He stiffened at the sound of a voice behind him and straightened his hat, having only just realized it was crooked on his head. Clearing his throat, he turned. “What is it?” he asked imperiously. One must maintain their reputation, after all, and he must ensure that he looked in control – because he was in control, of course. The setbacks were temporary. They wouldn’t take his money once he pleaded his case and if they still tried then, well, he would make Ebeneezer deal with that little problem. His men would bring back Snowflake. The law around here was nothing and they couldn’t force him to remain forever.

Soon enough, all would be well.

The man at the door shifted his weight, looking nervous, and the Master hid a smile. They still feared him. “Debt collectors are ‘ere, sir. They wants to see you.”

The Master kept his face very neutral. Very well. He was used to listening to them rant and rave at him by now, but he was also used to calming them with honeyed words and promises he made no intention to keep. Soon they would leave and never return to this place again. A slight pity, to be sure, since the crowds here always had such an excellent turnout, but only very slight. “Bring them in,” he said calmly, “and have Ebeneezer join us as well.”

The man blanched and this time, he didn’t hide the smile that crept over his features. A cruel smile, though it only lasted a second and then was gone. Their fear of him and of his dark magician was what would give him the upper hand, even surrounded by such ruin.

Not even a minute had passed before the debt collectors – five rather stout men and one very tall and thin one – sauntered into the room, all shooting him the same pointed stare, lips curled. Disdainful. The Master met their gaze, his only change in expression being a slightly arched eyebrow. They were used to people cowering in front of them – well! So was he. The only difference being that he always got what he wanted.

“People are demanding their money,” said the tall and thin one. Darius, that was his name.

His eyebrow arched up an inch further. ‘I see we have dismissed all the pleasantries from your visits,” The Master replied. “Straight to business, is it?”

Darius nodded firmly. “Straight to, indeed. You will have to forgive our bluntness–” he didn’t sound in the least bit sorry “--but that little… ahem, ‘incident’ with your circus has caused us no end of trouble. Our patience is running thin.”

“It seems that you and your patience are the only thin things about your band of cronies, hmm?”

“Now hold on a minute!” One of the more portly men took a step forward, shaking a thick finger at The Master, who didn’t budge from his position. Honeyed words, he realized, were not likely to work so well this time. He would have to use other methods to get them to leave him alone for a little while longer.

A few days. That was all he needed. They’d have the rest of the circus packed up by then and ready to move and Snow would be returned to him as well, and that brother of his would be used as an example; a warning to those who crossed him– the girl too, perhaps. Sometimes he forgot about her entirely.

“Eez there a problem?” A strange voice sounded from the door of the tent and the group of men all turned to face the shriveled old man who stood in front of them. They all seemed to shrink a little in his presence, even Darius who muttered hastily that no, there was no problem, no problem at all. Almost imperceptibly, the Master smiled. Even those who had never met the old man before and had no idea what he could do were unsettled by his presence and it gave him the upper hand in any conversation – and a conversation that involved his money was a very important one to have the upper hand in, to be sure. Oh yes, he was in control. He was always in control.

Finally moving from his statuesque position in the middle of the tent, The Master began to slowly pace in a circle around the men. Let the hunters become the hunted, eh? Let them feel what it was like to be stalked, to have their every move watched and whispered about. Let them return home with their tail between their legs. Let them–

“If there eez no problem,” Ebeneezer continued calmly, breaking the Master from his reverie, “then ‘e should be left alone. ‘E has much to do.” He jabbed his cane in the direction of the Master himself before leaning on it again. Heavily. Sometimes it was a wonder that the man could still walk at his age which was… well, old. Very old. He’d never offered his exact age and the Master had never thought it was worth asking about.

“We can’t just leave,” Darius spluttered. “We only just got here and we haven’t seen a cent from this man.”

“‘E is busy,” Ebeneezer repeated.

“But—”

“Busy.”

“It’s true,” said the Master with a sigh. “Organizing funds after such an event does take time, you know. Time which is constantly being interrupted by your visits.”

Darius continued to splutter on, clearly not accustomed to being treated in such a manner. The Master wiped a bit of spittle from his red coat and slowly raised his gaze to meet that of the tall thin man. “If spitting on me is the best response you have, my friend, I suggest you go out and find some words to say before you return again. Hmm?”

The debt collector straightened his back and glared. “We will return. Soon. I suggest that you try not to be so busy next time.”

The Master merely smiled. “Would you like me to call a few men to roll your friends out the door? They seem to have grown fat from stealing money from those people you claim to be here to help.”

“Then we have that much in common.”

“That’s terribly rude of you – I am in excellent physical condition, thank you.” His smile never wavered though a part of him wanted to laugh at the expressions on the faces of the portly little men. More spluttering and spitting. Disgusting.

“Eez time for you t’ go.” Ebeneezer moved from the middle of the doorway and stared at them, never blinking until they had all squeezed past him and left as fast as their legs could take them – which, of course, meant that Darius was leading the pack and the rest were huffing to keep up. Once they had faded from view, Ebeneezer spoke again.

“Yer men.” Two little words, barely even a sentence, but The Master caught on to his meaning right away. His men had returned and they knew better than to return without succeeding in their mission, so that could only mean…

He dashed to the door of the tent and looked out and it was the unmistakable red hair of that one fellow with the strange accent – Lars, was it? – that confirmed it was indeed his men returned. Good. He stood in the doorway and waited for them to reach him and when they did, he didn’t move to let them in. They could remain outside – he’d had enough of unwelcome people wandering into his tent for the day, thank you. Ebeneezer bowed slightly and moved to stand behind him and out of the way of the door.

“Where is he?”

One of the larger men whose name The Master didn’t even try to remember blinked at him. “Who?”

“Crow, you numbskull. Where is he?” His eyes searched the group but he didn’t spot the dark hair and scowling features of the man he was expecting. Crow was not an easy one to miss.

“Erm… the Wildlands, where you told us to put him.” The group of men glanced uneasily around at each other, no doubt trying to figure out who to put the blame on. Lars, being one of the smaller men, was shoved to the front and The Master glared at him, waiting for an explanation.

Lars’ throat bobbed as he swallowed nervously. ‘Aye, sir… We, uh, we, did what you said, we did, sir – that is to say, we took him there and left him, made sure he got in the woods and everything.”

The Master’s grip tightened so hard around the top of his cane it was a wonder that the lion head figure that decorated the top of it didn’t crush entirely, despite being made of solid metal. His back straightened and posture tensed almost imperceptibly, and yet the group of men in front of him took an uneasy step back. He didn’t notice that behind him, Ebeneezer had taken a small step forward. “Go back,” he snapped. He didn’t bother to explain to them that he had sent more men after them; waste of time to try and make them understand. “Go back and get him.”

Like fools, they continued to gape at him.

“I-” Lars started to stammer something out but stopped after one word.

The Master sighed. Idiots. “Snow escaped and so did that girl, whatever her name is. I need that leverage back and you will go and get it for me. Now.”

Lars’ lips were moving but he seemed unable to form actual words so at last one of the other men stepped up and spoke instead, hands wringing together the entire time. “Sir… what if… couldn’t we just… that is, I mean…”

“Spit. It. Out.”

“All due respect and all that but going back to the Wildlands and finding him in there is impossible. Finding Snow and La will be much easier, just use the girl as leverage. If… if you think, sir…?”

The Master’s face twisted into a cruel smile. One that had them all taking yet another step away from him, looking eager to scatter at the soonest opportunity. “The girl. La, yes, I remember her strange name now. No, my dear little fool, she will not provide me with what I seek. It is Crow I need, it is Crow I want, and it is Crow you shall go and fetch. Do you understand?”

They all began bobbing their heads up and down furiously. He waved his hand at them. “Your presence is tiring. Go.”

They went.

Sighing languidly, The Master turned back into his tent and fell into a nearby chair, staring towards Ebeneezer with a frown pasted firmly onto his features. His tent, normally so pristinely organized, was chaos around him. He ignored it. Cleanliness could wait, for now. There were bigger things to deal with.

“Why,” he began, half to himself and half to Ebeneezer, “are people so incurably stupid?”

------

The Master slammed his fists on the table in front of him, eyes wide and teeth gritted tight as he stared at the map before him. The Wildlands were but a few days away, yet it had been weeks. Weeks. And he had heard nothing back, but for the patrol he’d sent to catch Crow and bring him back returning empty-handed. Exasperated, he’d sent a few of them out to hunt for Snow instead and kept the rest to fend off those infernal debt collectors. For some time now they had been too wary to push him much but their greed was taking over and they were becoming more and more insistent with their demands becoming more and more ludicrous by the day.

“I’ll die first,” he hissed. “Not a penny for those fools, not a penny…”

Around him, the tent was quickly falling into ruin. His once carefully arranged trinkets and oddities were now lying scattered on tables and the ground, many of them broken, and flies buzzed around half eaten food. Eating was an inconvenience. Sleeping was irritating. Anything that forced him away from planning, plotting, scheming… anything that wasn’t fully focused around his plans to get Snowflake back.

“If ‘e comes back,” Ebeneezer had stupidly pointed out one time, “e will have no circus t’ perform in.”

The Master had raged at that. ‘He is mine!” he’d shouted. “Mine. My prize, my jewel. No one else shall have him – I’d kill him myself before I let that happen. He will be returned to me and all will be well again.”

It wouldn’t be easy. They would have to run and rebuild and possibly even rebrand his circus under a new name, if that was what it took to put this whole Wyvern incident behind him. But with time and dedication, he was sure he could get back what he had had before.

His hands curled into even tighter fists until his nails began to pierce at his skin. He didn’t notice, his gaze fully fixed on the map. Snowflake was the answer to everything.