The royal vampires and their aristocratic friends were sitting around in the great
dining hall of the Black Dawn kingdom, waiting for the entertainment to begin.
It wasn't the greatest entertainment, most of them thought. Not quite as amusing as
having a few humans chased through the forests, but passable. It helped them digest
the meals, which, whilst being lavish as always, became monotonous after a few
hundred years. They waited.
The low hum of conversation began to be spiked with loud complaints. The more
restless vampires were becoming impatient. Even mediocre entertainment was
expected to arrive promptly.
The clown was late.
~
A considerable distance away from the palatial vampiric buildings was the primitive
collection of huts where human slaves attempted to scrape an existence. At the
moment the muddy village was silent; the slaves were all working. Someone,
however, was darting around the makeshift streets, muttering and cursing under their
breath.
"Where's the damn coxcomb when yer need it, eh? Oh bugger … I'm late, I'm late …"
It was a female human, dressed in what was probably a pied jester suit, although the
exact colouring of the outfit was difficult to make out under all the mud that had
accumulated on her person. A mass of wiry dark hair hung around her head in a frizzy
halo. As the clown stood still to wring her hands, glaring around at the huts in
desperation, it writhed like a nest of snakes in the wind. Her pointed, rodent-like nose
wrinkled with a frown. She was bloody late. It was only the second performance, and
she could already see it swirling down into the sewers.
"Well, that's it, then." The clown sat down in the mud, sulking dejectedly. "A week of
mild torture and then back to cleaning the privies. Thank you and goodnight.
Goodbye clown."
~
"It is a human, isn't it?" one vampire asked another, as the brooding murmur of the
dining hall increased in volume with steadily growing annoyance. "I mean, it's not one
of us -"
"Of course not," the other one replied. "Although you couldn't tell. All that makeup,
the costume, the stupid act -"
"Gets right in the way of the telepathy waves," another one complained. "Don't know
what the little idiot's going to say next. It's not right, a human having mental privacy
like that. Next thing you know, it'll be going round thinking freely."
"Jumped up little worm," the vampires agreed.
"The point I was trying to make," the first vampire said testily. "Is that it seems
strange to have a human in such an obscure position at all. I mean, since when do we
need a clown? What's wrong with good old fashioned hunting, that's what I'd like to
know -"
"Tradition," the other vampires interrupted.
"But we've never had a clown."
"Not quite true, actually." A little way down the table, a vampire with Know-It-All
practically stamped on her forehead steepled her fingers and smiled. "It is a little
known fact, but we once had a … a court jester, as it were. And of course you
wouldn't expect a vampire to take on such a lowly job as that. Got to be a human, of
course. Although jesters are terribly passé, don't you know. Clowns are all the rage,
these days."
"Same thing, isn't it?" The vampires looked at each other, mystified. The only
traditions they knew of were already in place, used in the kingdom on a daily basis.
They didn't like the sound of this new one.
"Oh no," the smug vampire lady continued, with an emphatic flourish of a pale hand.
"Clowns are so awfully different from jesters, don't you know. Clowns are all the
rage."
"Right …" The first vampire raised an eyebrow, and stared down into his blood cup,
thinking. He was still deep in thought when the rest of the room fell silent.
"Good evening, ladies an' gents!" an uncouth voice yelled from nowhere. "I ain't late,
I'm FASHIONABLE!!!"
The clown leapt wildly from the minstrel gallery like a suicidal dragon, grabbing hold
of a silken banner, which ripped with a loud hiss as it took her weight. Like a pirate
boarding a ship, the black-and-mud-coloured jester swung down onto the wide, empty
floor.
"Yer ought to know all 'bout fashion, ladies an' gents," the clown continued,
breathless yet still piercingly loud. "Jus' look at yer!"
She took a deep breath, and began the act. It started with mockery of the lesser
aristocrats, working its way right up to the top, ridiculing the purest of blood. The
clown could impersonate them all, walking and talking in a way that showed the
vampires at their most ridiculous. This was no difficult task for the human slave; the
only thing she worried about was the simple question: "Why the hell are they putting
up with this, eh?"
It was tradition.
The vampire Peregrine looked up from the table finally, as someone on his left
nudged him in the ribs.
"That's you, that is," someone said, with a derisive snigger. "Got the swagger and
everything."
Peregrine watched as the clown imitated him. After a few minutes, his face
degenerated into a scowl. It was bloody insulting; it was merely food that could think,
and it was allowed to parade around like that. He ought to kill it. It was a human,
wasn't it? Why wasn't it being hunted down? Why wasn't it working? Was the
kingdom mad? What was the reason behind letting a worm like this parade take such
damn liberties? She wasn't even amusing.
"And I don't walk like that," he muttered, surprised at the petulance in his voice.
dining hall of the Black Dawn kingdom, waiting for the entertainment to begin.
It wasn't the greatest entertainment, most of them thought. Not quite as amusing as
having a few humans chased through the forests, but passable. It helped them digest
the meals, which, whilst being lavish as always, became monotonous after a few
hundred years. They waited.
The low hum of conversation began to be spiked with loud complaints. The more
restless vampires were becoming impatient. Even mediocre entertainment was
expected to arrive promptly.
The clown was late.
~
A considerable distance away from the palatial vampiric buildings was the primitive
collection of huts where human slaves attempted to scrape an existence. At the
moment the muddy village was silent; the slaves were all working. Someone,
however, was darting around the makeshift streets, muttering and cursing under their
breath.
"Where's the damn coxcomb when yer need it, eh? Oh bugger … I'm late, I'm late …"
It was a female human, dressed in what was probably a pied jester suit, although the
exact colouring of the outfit was difficult to make out under all the mud that had
accumulated on her person. A mass of wiry dark hair hung around her head in a frizzy
halo. As the clown stood still to wring her hands, glaring around at the huts in
desperation, it writhed like a nest of snakes in the wind. Her pointed, rodent-like nose
wrinkled with a frown. She was bloody late. It was only the second performance, and
she could already see it swirling down into the sewers.
"Well, that's it, then." The clown sat down in the mud, sulking dejectedly. "A week of
mild torture and then back to cleaning the privies. Thank you and goodnight.
Goodbye clown."
~
"It is a human, isn't it?" one vampire asked another, as the brooding murmur of the
dining hall increased in volume with steadily growing annoyance. "I mean, it's not one
of us -"
"Of course not," the other one replied. "Although you couldn't tell. All that makeup,
the costume, the stupid act -"
"Gets right in the way of the telepathy waves," another one complained. "Don't know
what the little idiot's going to say next. It's not right, a human having mental privacy
like that. Next thing you know, it'll be going round thinking freely."
"Jumped up little worm," the vampires agreed.
"The point I was trying to make," the first vampire said testily. "Is that it seems
strange to have a human in such an obscure position at all. I mean, since when do we
need a clown? What's wrong with good old fashioned hunting, that's what I'd like to
know -"
"Tradition," the other vampires interrupted.
"But we've never had a clown."
"Not quite true, actually." A little way down the table, a vampire with Know-It-All
practically stamped on her forehead steepled her fingers and smiled. "It is a little
known fact, but we once had a … a court jester, as it were. And of course you
wouldn't expect a vampire to take on such a lowly job as that. Got to be a human, of
course. Although jesters are terribly passé, don't you know. Clowns are all the rage,
these days."
"Same thing, isn't it?" The vampires looked at each other, mystified. The only
traditions they knew of were already in place, used in the kingdom on a daily basis.
They didn't like the sound of this new one.
"Oh no," the smug vampire lady continued, with an emphatic flourish of a pale hand.
"Clowns are so awfully different from jesters, don't you know. Clowns are all the
rage."
"Right …" The first vampire raised an eyebrow, and stared down into his blood cup,
thinking. He was still deep in thought when the rest of the room fell silent.
"Good evening, ladies an' gents!" an uncouth voice yelled from nowhere. "I ain't late,
I'm FASHIONABLE!!!"
The clown leapt wildly from the minstrel gallery like a suicidal dragon, grabbing hold
of a silken banner, which ripped with a loud hiss as it took her weight. Like a pirate
boarding a ship, the black-and-mud-coloured jester swung down onto the wide, empty
floor.
"Yer ought to know all 'bout fashion, ladies an' gents," the clown continued,
breathless yet still piercingly loud. "Jus' look at yer!"
She took a deep breath, and began the act. It started with mockery of the lesser
aristocrats, working its way right up to the top, ridiculing the purest of blood. The
clown could impersonate them all, walking and talking in a way that showed the
vampires at their most ridiculous. This was no difficult task for the human slave; the
only thing she worried about was the simple question: "Why the hell are they putting
up with this, eh?"
It was tradition.
The vampire Peregrine looked up from the table finally, as someone on his left
nudged him in the ribs.
"That's you, that is," someone said, with a derisive snigger. "Got the swagger and
everything."
Peregrine watched as the clown imitated him. After a few minutes, his face
degenerated into a scowl. It was bloody insulting; it was merely food that could think,
and it was allowed to parade around like that. He ought to kill it. It was a human,
wasn't it? Why wasn't it being hunted down? Why wasn't it working? Was the
kingdom mad? What was the reason behind letting a worm like this parade take such
damn liberties? She wasn't even amusing.
"And I don't walk like that," he muttered, surprised at the petulance in his voice.