After the show I was, needless to say, incredibly proud of myself. Nothing a little vocal hypnotism couldn't do to work wonders with the Admiral, and next time, I'd actually get to see Nixie's lions perform! I got excited just thinking about it.
As for the rest of the night well, I went back to my coach and swept out the dust and cracked open a window for some fresh air before turning down the bed and unpacking the rest of my things, brought from my old apartment. This was my home now. I lay down on the thin mattress of the bed, ready to fall asleep, but something was bothering me. More specifically, a hard something with corners, tucked under the mattress was bothering me. Rolling off the bed, onto the floor, I lifted the mat and looked underneath, to see a smallish, battered notebook. It wasn't fancy, it just had a simple cardboard cover decorated in the same blue and silver stars that decorated the rest of the car. Inside was filled, cover to cover, margin to margin, in thin, spidery, and not particularly neat handwriting.
After a staring at the first page, decyphering the letters, I realized it was a journal. Reading a few of the entries, I came to the conclusion that it was a really boring journal, written by the magician who used to live here, describing his day to day activities. The man seemed to have been very old fashioned. Still, after the first few entries, detailing his own entry onto the circus scene, were finished, the magician began to add a few words at the bottom of each page, like magic words;
!ecanema a si eH
Was written after a very long entry about Wiseacre's hospitality, and how he provided each and every member of the troop with a home on his train.
!Nacu oy elih wepacsE
Came after a long description of a disappearing act involving several large mirrored boxes, which I'd been unable to find in the wreckage of the man's many props.
!namuh ton eray ehT
This message followed an entry that was darker than the others, and involved a meeting with Wiseacre himself discussing the use of other troop members in his act, then the magician had been led back to his car by two men in colorful suits that revealed nothing of their identities.
.enod nu maI
The entry above this one was short, describing how the magician had tried to discuss leaving the circus after nearly a full year on, but the Admiral refused, and later sent a message via the same mysterious men who had escorted him to his car some nights before. The magician said it would be his last night in the magic business, and the message cut off quickly.
I flipped through the pages, and while I couldnt yet make sense of the nonsense words, I was sure they meant something. I tucked the journal under my pillow and decided to show it to my new friends in the morning.