In the morning, Giovanni sat on the steps to his house and stared out at the very big barn, the stables, the workhouse, the tents, the wagons, and the animals that covered the property. He did not know if he was ready to run a circus. It was a big undertaking for an eighteen-year-old. He honestly did not know what to do. He feared he might lose the circus to Corriden if the people decided not to take directions from a boy, as he thought of himself. Fortunately, the feeling did not last long as he heard from Lady Alice of Avalon. She spoke directly into his mind from wherever she was, in the universe, out of the universe, in the past, or in the future. She said, “Just do your best. That is all we can ever do.”

Deep inside his heart, Giovanni reached out to the many lives he lived in the past and the future. Perhaps they reached out to him in his time of grieving and need. He remembered becoming the Nameless god to confront the Flesh Eaters in the north. It was an interesting experience, to be a different person for a while, though in a sense it was still him. He lived Nameless’ life a couple of thousand years ago. He died and moved on from him into the next life, and the next life, and the one after that. It was also interesting that Giovanni was able to reach back in time and borrow that life for his need. Up until that point he had no idea he could do that—trade lives with other lives he once lived. He thought maybe Nameless kind of forced himself on the ten-year-old boy. Nameless was a god. He could do that. But just as well, Giovanni thought. He imagined it would not have been safe to face the Flesh Eaters as anything less than a god. Right now, though, he needed someone who knew something about running a circus.

Giovanni reached down to his feet and pulled up a handful of grass that grew there. He easily held the clump of grass in his hand, like it was all grass and all one, but when he opened his hand, the individual strands of grass blew away on the wind, all going in their own direction, all headed back to the ground from whence they came.

Giovanni remembered most of the lifetimes nearest his own time, with only a few gaps in that memory. He remembered Greta, the wise woman of Dacia in the time of Marcus Aurelius. Festuscato Cassius Agitus, who called himself the last senator of Rome, and Gerraint, King of Cornwall, who hung out with King Arthur, Percival, and the rest of the round table. Margueritte, Margravine of the Saxon March actually grew up on the border of Brittany in the time of Charles Martel, and she got followed by Genevieve who became the Margravine of Provence under Charlemagne.

He remembered Genevieve had to deal with space alien Apes, the sworn enemies of the Flesh Eaters. The Apes were a kind and gentle people, and vegetarian. It was in his next life, Elgar the Saxon, where he first had to deal with Flesh Eaters. He could not let them live. They tried to start a colony and would have multiplied at an alarming rate. Anyway, after that, he lived as Kirstie before Yasmina, two girls who only had minor inconveniences with the Apes and Flesh Eaters. And now, Giovanni.

He wondered why he thought through all that. None of them knew anything about running a circus.

Giovanni turned his thoughts to the future… Well, some future and some past. There were six lifetimes in particular that always seemed to be available no matter what life he was living. Lady Alice of Avalon showed up in his lives on a regular basis, and the Captain, her male counterpart showed up often enough. Alice and the Captain were what they called genetic reflections, which was like identical twins of the opposite sex if that made any sense.

He remembered the Princess from the past and the Storyteller from the future. They went together for some reason, kind of like partners in time. Then there were their two genetic reflections. Diogenes of Macedonia went with the Princess. Doctor Mishka who fought in both world wars in the twentieth century went with the Storyteller who was lucky not to have to fight in any war.

Giovanni paused. He thought the good doctor could have come. He could have traded places with her through time and she could have cured his father. He started to get angry again until he heard from Mishka, speaking down through time and into his head.

“Not authorized to do that,” Mishka said. “I am sorry about your father. We all go through that. But anyway, there is no magical-medical cure for being stabbed to death.”

Oh yeah, Giovanni thought rather sheepishly. He wondered if he had a genetic reflection somewhere in time. He imagined she must be in the future somewhere. No idea where or when. Anyway, these lifetimes did not know any more about the circus than the others, though Alice keeping Avalon running was a bit like a circus. She had to deal with all those fairies, elves, goblins, dwarfs, and sprites of the air, water, and fire, and what a confusing mess that could be. He let out a small laugh when Corriden, with Porto and Damien of course, came to face him. He saw some of the others hovering around in the background, in particular Berlio the magician and his wife Priscilla.

“We took a vote,” Corriden began. “We decided we are not going to take orders from a boy. I’m sorry about your father, but we have to think about our future.”

“What do you intend?” Giovanni asked. For some reason, this did not come as a surprise.

Corriden paused to glance back at his supporters. “I will be running the circus. If you are good, you can continue as ringmaster, but all the decisions and money will be mine to control.”

“You understand the big tent, the circus tent, in fact, all of the tents, the booths for the midway, the wagons, the things in the workshop and barn and all of the animals belong to me. I am the Don Giovanni now and as the only son of my father, I own it all. You understand?”

Corriden nodded but his words suggested otherwise. “They all belong to the circus.”

“Wrong.” Giovanni shouted and stood on the step so he looked down on Corriden, Damien, and Porto. “They are my property and all of it stays here with me. And for that matter, this whole swamp, the buildings, the fishing village, and all is my property, and right now you are trespassing.”

Corriden nearly growled. “This was not unanticipated.”

“Nor was this,” Giovanni said. “I’ll tell you what. You can take the two wagons Father said would have to be replaced for the new season, and I’ll be generous. You can have two oxen to haul them. Then I want you and every one that is going with you to pack your personal items and be off my property in two hours.”

“That is not right,” Corriden complained. “That is not nearly enough time.” He pulled a knife.

Giovanni called out and became dressed in the armor of the Kairos, complete with a sword at his back. He pulled the sword, not that he knew exactly how to use it, but pointing it at Corriden’s throat was all he needed to do to make the point. “I am not asking,” he said, doing his best to control the anger in his voice and the tears in his eyes. “Two hours.”

Corriden did growl, but he put his knife away. He turned to walk off and Giovanni yelled. “And if you take any of my things, I will come with the watch and have you arrested as a thief and thrown in jail.”

Corriden waved that he heard before he began to shout. “Get your things, just personal items. We are going to the farm. Porto and Damien. Get two oxen for these wagons and get them ready to go.”

It took six hours for everyone to leave but by then, Giovanni had gotten four men from the fishing village to watch and make sure the deserters did not take anything more than their personal items. Many appeared to be having second thoughts, but the thrust of the crowd was to follow Corriden, so they left. The cook was the last to leave, around sundown. She cooked for the circus for ten years, and cried a little, though some of those tears may have been for what Giovanni now called the chuck wagon. She had to leave her wagon and portable oven behind, and all the food with it.

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