Song: "Beautiful You" by Jonny Diaz
As she approached the large cathedral, Madellaine inhaled deeply to gather her courage before heading inside. The gothic church was intimidating, and as Madellaine walked past multiple statues, she shivered a bit, feeling their piercing gaze in her soul. It was as if they knew what she was there to do. She didn't know what Sarousch wanted with one of Notre Dame's bells, but she knew the consequences of disobeying him, and she was more afraid of him than she was of carved stone.
Once inside the sanctuary, Madellaine observed her surroundings. The place felt almost peaceful, with incense wafting across the halls, and parishioners quietly kneeling in prayer. The famous rose window filtered colorful sunlight into the sanctuary, and Madellaine couldn't help but stand in awe for a moment. Something deep inside seemed to be whispering to her, "Stay here. Don't go back. This is sanctuary." It was a far cry from the judgmental looks she'd felt like she was receiving outside. The church almost seemed to embrace her.
But she couldn't allow herself to get distracted. It didn't take too long to find the stairs leading up to the bell tower. The bells were ringing for the evening mass, so Madellaine hurried upstairs to avoid the influx of parishioners.
Upstairs, Quasimodo finished ringing the evening mass and was starting on his chores. He polished the triplets first, then paused to catch his breath. Polishing the triplets was always tricky as he had to hang by one arm for extended periods in order to get everywhere he needed to on each bell. Being suspended in that manner had caused him to pass out before, and at least once it had nearly killed him (though that had been entirely Frollo's fault). Worse than having to pause his work periodically was the fact that Quasi felt like he got winded more easily lately. He supposed he was likely to age faster because of his condition.
"I'll probably feel like I'm 80 by the time I'm 40," he joked as he patted Louise-Marie. "I can swap old people jokes with Phoebus and Clopin. The three of us can drive Esme nuts together." He laughed aloud at the thought. There were 15 years between Esme and Phoebus, and she always rolled her eyes when he and Clopin, ten years his senior, started exchanging "old man" barbs. "Neither of you are actually old!" she'd complain. And then Clopin would shoot back by reminding her he'd been alive for over half a century, and Phoebus would add in that the average lifespan put him squarely in the latter half of his life, and the two would be off again until Esme stormed off in exasperation (or chucked something at them). It was always a great show for Quasi, Zephyr and even Djali. The goat couldn't understand a word of the conversation, of course, but he seemed to love the jovial energy that permeated the humans' animated argument.
A timid voice snapped Quasi out of his reverie. It echoed just well enough that Quasi caught it in his good ear, but not well enough to make out what the voice said or to whom it belonged. He descended the tower to see who his visitor was.
It was a really cute girl. A really lost-looking, really cute girl. She had short, blonde hair and a wide eyed expression as she took in all the crafts that decorated Quasi's loft. And suddenly, Quasi felt very, very shy. He ducked underneath Big Marie.
"I don't mean to intrude," the girl was saying as she curiously tapped at the wind chime hanging above the craft table. "I was just curious about the bells. They sound so beautiful from downstairs that I had to see them. I heard the pope himself is coming to listen to them."
The bells, thought Quasi. She likes the bells. All I gotta do is talk shop. He tried to step out to call back to her, but when he opened his mouth, nothing came out. He ducked back into his hiding place.
The shuffling caused the girl to spin and face his direction. "Are you...hiding from...me?" she asked, obviously shy herself, but also amused.
Quasi kept his face hidden well inside Big Marie's concave. He heard the girl laugh. "I'm not hiding," he lied. "Wh-what's so funny?"
Madellaine didn't know if it was funnier that the bell ringer should hide from a lowly circus girl like herself, or the fact that he was doing such a poor job of it inside a bell. "Nothing," she replied. "It's just that...you look like you're wearing a giant hat." She giggled again, but then caught herself. "Oh, that...that sounds really silly, doesn't it?"
"No," Quasi replied hastily. "I just...never looked at it that way before." He chuckled.
"Yes, it's a...a brass beret," Madellaine joked, laughing again.
Her laughter is as pretty as the bells' music, thought Quasi as he too laughed at her joke.
"A..a two-ton topper," the girl continued.
Laughing heartily himself, Quasi rapped his knuckles on the bell and joined in. "A chapeau in C-sharp," he offered, the note in question reverberating around the loft.
The two laughed together. Madellaine couldn't remember the last time she'd been free to laugh aloud like this. She started to turn, and something to the side caught her eye. She yelped.
"What's wrong?" Quasi asked.
Madellaine looked again. Three grotesques sat in a corner of the loft. They seemed to be regarding her with a curious expression. "I-it's just...the gargoyles. They startled me. I-I didn't realize they were there, and for a moment they looked...alive." She clutched an arm, feeling foolish. "But that's dumb, isn't it? Ugh, you must think I'm stupid." She turned to head for the stairs.
"Not at all," Quasi encouraged, leaving the shelter of Big Marie to chase her, but sticking to the shadows of the rafters. "That just means you have an imagination. Besides, people always say that Notre Dame herself is...alive...in a way. I-I've lived here all my life, and, well...they're not exactly wrong."
Madellaine's heart swelled. "Do you really think I have a good imagination?" she asked timidly.
Quasi slipped down to ground level. He hadn't heard the question, as Madellaine had her back to him and had asked it so softly. "I'm sorry," he said. "I-I'm a little...hard of hearing. So...whatever you said...I didn't catch it. I-it's the bells. The only trouble with being a bell ringer is...well..."
Madellaine put a hand to her mouth and turned to face Quasi's direction. "I'm so sorry, I didn't realize," she said.
"I'm getting pretty good at reading lips," Quasi offered. "So as long as I can see your mouth, I can figure out what you're saying."
Madellaine dropped her hand to her side. "I asked if you really think I have a good imagination," she said, trying to enunciate every word.
Quasi smiled. "Absolutely," he said.
Madellaine tried to get a bead on the bell ringer and approached his position in the shadows. "What's your name?" she asked.
"Quasimodo," he replied. "And yours?"
"Madellaine. Well, Quasimodo...wouldn't you like to come where I can see you?"
No. No he did not. But yes, he absolutely did. But no, he couldn't.
While Quasi played out his internal conflict silently, Madellaine grew impatient. She looked up to see a curtain obscuring part of the sunlight and pushed it back, flooding light into Quasi's little alcove.
Quasi instinctively covered his face and braced for the reaction.
Madellaine was shocked. She had traveled far and seen many different faces, some mutilated by war or abuse. But she'd never seen anyone with a face quite like the bell ringer's. He'd obviously been born with it. She didn't know what to say. Embarrassed and afraid of making a fool of herself, she decided the best idea would be to leave before she could.
"I-I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I have to go!" She dashed out of the loft and disappeared swiftly down the stairs.
Quasi sighed in despair. Yet another potential friend lost because of his face. Sometimes he wished he'd been carved as a grotesque to protect the cathedral. At least then, he felt, his ugliness would have meaning. He started to return to his chores, passing by La Fidele as he went. He put a hand on the bell. She didn't look like anything special either, he reminded himself, but it was why she was made and who she was made for that made her priceless.
The urge to whittle came over him, and he decided his chores could wait for a bit. He hauled his three favorite grotesques over to his workbench. He had always liked their company as he carved, conversing with them as if they were alive. The one he'd named Laverne was the one who "talked" to him the most when he was in a funk. One of the very few bits and pieces he'd learned about his old master's life was that Frollo's mother had been named Laverne, and given the way both Frollo and his younger brother Jehan had talked about her (when Jehan was allowed to hang out with Quasi, given the elder Frollo considered him a "bad influence"; and honestly, Quasi thought "Uncle" Jehan was difficult to be around too, as he was very loud and always smelled of alcohol), both remembered her fondly as a gentle woman who loved children and always had wise advice. Quasi liked to imagine that if she had lived long enough to meet him, she would've been the most caring grandmother who always knew just how to cheer him up.
Quasi gave a pat to the tarp that covered his birthday present for Zephyr—a model of the Romani quarter of Paris—and set to work carving a new figurine, conversing with the gargoyles as he did so.
"You saw the way she looked at me," he bemoaned. "I'll never look like anything other than a monster to everyone who sees me for the first time. Even Esme backed away when she realized my face wasn't a mask. If only...there were a way to get people to look again instead of running." He put down the knife and picked up a paintbrush, dipping it into the green paint. Madellaine wore a simple green frock over a cream tunic, but to Quasi it looked like the loveliest gown.
"Do you believe in miracles?" he asked his marble friends. "You know, just ordinary ones. Like maybe someone out there who might be able to fall in love with someone like me." He set the new figurine upright on the table to let the paint dry, then placed his own effigy next to it. Then he stood. "I'd better get back to my chores," he said.
He picked up a polishing rag and set to work on La Fidele. As he often did, he sang to the bell while he worked.
"There can never be a more beautiful you
Don't buy the lies, disguises and hoops they make you jump through
You were made to fill a purpose that only you can do
'Cause there can never be a more beautiful you"
Quasi glanced back at his workbench. Maybe the key to getting Madellaine to give him a second look was to go out and find her himself. Not that he knew where to look. But Esmeralda might. Quasi knew the city from above, but Esme knew the streets. If anyone knew where to look for a shy girl with a pixie cut, it would be Esme.
But it would have to wait. Phoebus had raised the alarm about the new circus' ringmaster, and Quasi didn't feel like getting into a conflict with a possible slave trader.
"Tomorrow," he promised himself, diving into his chores.
Phoebus found Cirque du Sarousch pitching their camp on the islet west of Notre Dame. He immediately asked after the proprietor and was directed to his tent. Inside he found the man being tended by servants as if he were some sort of king. One servant was massaging Sarousch's head and temples while the magician relaxed in his seat. Another was working diligently on Sarousch's cape and what looked like a toupee. All around the room were mirrors, and Phoebus noticed a bust in Sarousch's image.
I've walked into the realm of Narcissus, Phoebus thought. He cleared his throat loudly.
Sarousch opened one eye. "Why didn't someone tell me we had company?" he demanded in irritation. He sat up, forcing his servant to adjust to complete his task. "Ah, the captain of the Parisian guard, I presume?"
"You presume correctly," Phoebus said with a nod. "Phoebus de Chateaupers. I assume you are Sarousch, the head of this troupe?"
"That's right. What can I do for you, Captain?"
Phoebus had to choose his words carefully. He didn't want Sarousch to realize he knew about the history between the circus master and Clopin, and he also didn't want to come across as suspicious of the man's heritage, as that wasn't the reason Phoebus was there. If even so much as a rumor should drift back to the king that there was trouble brewing between the Roma and the French Parisians, it could spell disaster.
"My scouts have received reports of a slave trafficking ring operating outside of Paris, potentially headed this way," Phoebus said. "Since you've recently arrived from out of town, I thought I should ask you if you've encountered any such activities. I will remind you that slavery is illegal throughout France, and any person in such bondage is considered manumitted upon crossing our borders."
Sarouch knew what Phoebus meant. That fact was clear on the former's face. "Captain, I don't know what you've heard about me, but I assure you, I adhere strictly to all local laws. Why, I even avoid communities that I know are...less than friendly to people of my background, and of the backgrounds many of my employees come from. And they are well paid, I assure you. None of my activities are illegal. And let me say, when I heard that the restrictions against my people had been lifted here in Paris, I was overjoyed and knew I would have to bring my circus here to celebrate and to show them what so many of them would've been unable to see just a few years ago. And here we are, at long last. It is such a joyous homecoming."
"Mmm," was Phoebus' response. He looked over the two servants. Their expressions remained perfectly neutral, their postures as relaxed as they could get while performing their work. These men, it seemed, were free men in Sarousch's employ. And were apparently loyal to him, at least for the moment. "It seems all is in order here, but if you don't mind, I'm going to look around a bit."
"As you wish, Captain," Sarousch said with a wave. "You can see for yourself that I've nothing to hide. If there is even a hint of any activity of questionable legality, I'll be more than happy to submit to further questioning, and I'll cooperate fully."
"Good," Phoebus said. "Peace is very important to us. I'm sure you heard of a minor conflict several years ago that damaged Notre Dame. We want to avoid anything like that happening again, and I'll do everything in my power to prevent it."
"Understandable, especially with his holiness coming. Yes, it's all over the county. Everyone is thrilled to bits."
"Then you know how important it is that we all remain on our best behavior."
"Of course I do, Captain. You have my word on that matter."
Phoebus wasn't satisfied, but there was nothing more he could ask of the man without giving away his real reason for being there. So he gave Sarousch a nod and bid him good night before leaving the tent to observe the rest of the circus. An hour of searching revealed nothing of import. Sarousch knew how to keep his nose clean, alright. Phoebus gave up for the night and headed in the direction of home. He would have to confer with Clopin on the next step to take—and probably also have to deal with a cranky son who would most likely still be insisting on being allowed to go to the circus.
As Phoebus mounted Achilles and spurred him into a trot, he completely missed the blonde girl headed into Sarousch's tent to deliver her report.