“Capital cities of nations which share no borders with other countries.”
 
“Roseau,” Azazel told the TV set.
 
“Glasgow?” said the contestant.
 
“Jeez!”  She threw a popcorn at the screen.  “Glasgow?  How can you dress yourself in the morning, idiot?”
 
There was a knock on the door.  “I’m watching Winner Takes All!” she shouted.  They all knew quiz shows were sacrosanct.  They had no right to be knocking at her trailer during a show.  The intruder knocked again.  Azazel rose from her bed, adjusted her robe and stomped over to the door.
 
“There had better be a major fire, otherwise there’s going to be one in a minute,” she yelled.
 
She flung open the door and scowled down at the people who had disturbed her.  Jack shrugged an apology up at her.  The other man was a stranger, falling backwards at her entrance,
 
“Winner Takes All!” she shouted.
 
“Aizee,” said Jack.  “This is Mr. Anderson.  He’s from the AVGA.”
 
“That’s not my fault.  Why do I have to miss my show?”
 
The stranger recovered and stepped forward.  “Um, Ms. Az – Az – Um, Ms. Aza -.”
 
“Jeez, call me Aizee or I’ll miss next week’s Winner Takes All as well.”
 
Mr. Anderson nodded gratefully.  “Ms. – um – Ms. Aizee.  I’m from the, um, Sentient Non-Human branch.  My card.”  He held the card as far away from himself as he could.
 
“Yeah, yeah, the dragon squad.  If I miss the end of my show I will eat you, so spit it out.  What?  My fees are late?  I’m showing too much leg?  What?”
 
“No, no, nothing like that, Quite the – Wait.  Eat me?”
 
Aizee lowered her head until it was on a level with his.  “You think we eat people?” she asked, in a low voice heavy with menace.
 
“No, no, not at all.  Only you said –“
 
“It’s that sort of racist crap you’re meant to protect us from, isn’t it?”
 
“Yes, yes, but it’s just that you said –“
 
“Aizee,” said Jack, with a sigh.  “Play nice.  Let him certify you, we get to keep rolling and you get back to your quiz show.”
 
“You know about my quiz shows.  You know what I’m like when people interrupt.  You know I’m being nice, considering.”
 
“Try being – nicer.”
 
Azazel held up a talon, withdrew her head and shut the door.  The she opened it again.
 
“My, two gentlemen callers,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.  “How delightful!  How may I help you, sir, in order that you can piss off and let me watch my show in peace?”
 
“That really is her being nice,” Jack told Anderson.  “Do whatever it is you have to do, quick as you like, while she’s in a good mood.”  He glanced up at Aizee and winked.  “As good as you can hope for, anyway.”
 
“Well, we at AVGA are duty-bound to ensure that you are treated well and with dignity.”
 
“Yep and yep.  Can I get back to my show now?”
 
Anderson glanced at Jack.  “We prefer, um, we prefer interviews to be unsupervised.”
 
Aizee pulled her robe closer to her chest.  “You want to be in a woman’s bedroom unchaperoned?  What happened to dignity?  I have a reputation to uphold, you know. “
 
“Nononono.”  Anderson loosened his collar.  “It’s just we like to make sure there’s no duress.”
 
Aizee feigned shock.  “You want me to take my dress off?”
 
Jack chuckled and shook his head.  “I need to make sure front of house is set up.  Aizee, seriously, be nice.  We need his certificate.  Mr. Anderson, come dig me out again when you’ve finished and I’ll give you a free ticket for the seven o’clock.”  He turned and walked away.
 
“I’m not taking my dress off, though,” Aizee called after him.
 
Anderson cleared his throat nervously.  “Honestly, we’re here to protect your best interests.  You would not believe what some unscrupulous owners do.”
 
“Firstly,” said Aizee, holding up a talon, “do you honestly think I need anyone’s help to protect myself?”
 
Anderson looked at the talon and shook his head vigorously.
 
“Secondly,” she held up another talon, “Jack doesn’t own me.  No one owns me.  I’m not a Shih Tzu.”
 
“Nonono.  I meant, circus owners.  Circus owners.”
 
“You think anyone would own this circus if it wasn’t for me?”
 
“Honestly, I meant circus owner.”
 
“Hmm.”  Aizee treated him to a suspicious look.  “Because I really don’t like patronising bleeding hearts telling me what I should do to protect myself.”
 
“Nonono, I can see that.”  Anderson flicked sheets of paper over the clipboard.  “Um, I think we can skip most of this.”  For some reason he seemed to be in a hurry to finish the interview.  “Um, wages?  You get paid enough, right?”
 
“None of your business.  But I get a bigger cut than anyone else in the show.  I’m the star.”
 
“Good, good.”  He flicked more sheets over.  “Um – um – “
 
Aizee sighed and glanced over her shoulder at the TV.  She’d already missed the first round.  The show was a write-off.
 
“Mr. Anderson, think of a bandaid.”
 
“Excuse me?”
 
“You’re frightened to ask me something.  Just do it.  The show starts in two hours.  I don’t want to be standing here all night.  Just rip it off.”
 
“Your act.  Um, on the posters – “
 
“Yes?”
 
“It shows you riding a bicycle.  Um, naked.”  He blushed bright crimson.  “That seems a tad exploitative.”
 
“Exploitative?”
 
“A tad.  Not very dignified.”
 
“Wait one.”  Aizee withdrew her head and shut the door.  Then she slid the side of the trailer aside and stepped down onto the grass.  “Follow me.”  She walked towards the back yard, nodding a greeting to the artists, agents, butchers, clowns, flyers and general kinksters.  At the rear of the big top an area was fenced off, full of trunks and paraphernalia.
 
“Hey, Leon, how long till come-in?” she called.
 
“An hour,” answered a tall man.
 
“Good to have a five-minute practice?”
 
“Sure.  But put the bike back where you found it.  I can’t spare four men to clean up after you.”
 
Aizee stuck her tongue out at Leon and walked over to a huge bike leaning against a trunk.  It had to be a bike, because tanks didn’t have two wheels.  She grunted as she pulled it vertical and pushed it towards the back door of the big top.  “Come on,” she called over her shoulder.
 
The big top was almost empty.  A couple of teamsters were hammering at a bench.  A few youths were pushing brooms.  High above, a team of aerialists swung on the trapeze.
 
Aizee stopped just inside the ring.  “Look at this,” she said, indicating the bike.  “Custom made, of course.  Not by anyone here.  We had to commission it special.”  She tapped the crossbar with a claw.  “Not a tube.  Solid steel.  Weight’s not really a problem, see?  And the shocks, they got those from a scrapped truck.  The wheels are off a Toyota.”
 
“Very, um, very impressive.”
 
“Too right it’s impressive.  It would have bankrupted any other show.  It costs more than my trailer, and that was a custom job too.  Does that sound as though I’m being exploited?”
 
“Well, no, not in that sense.”
 
“In what sense, then?”
 
“Well, it’s hardly natural.”
 
Aizee shook her head.  “You ever see a bicycle tree?”
 
“Excuse me?”
 
“You know, bicycle tree.  Where bicycles grow.”
 
“Um – “
 
“Because a human being on a bicycle is such a natural phenomenon, right?”
 
“Okay.  Fair point.  But the dignity…”
 
Aizee looked around.  “Damn, no clowns.  Okay, you’ll have to take my word for it.  Toni, he gets water poured down his pants and his head stuck in a bucket of flour paste every day, twice a day at weekends.  Is that dignified?”
 
“I –“
 
“And Carlos gets kicked up the ass a dozen times a show.”
 
“But that’s different.  They’re – “
 
Aizee roared.  It was her showtime roar, guaranteed to send a scream through the audience.  Anderson almost fell over backwards.
 
“Be very careful how you finish that sentence,” she said.  “Because if it implies I have any less choice than a human, you and I will fall out.”
 
“Nononono.  Point made.  Point made.  But surely, even though you have every right, every choice, surely you must see that a dragon riding a bicycle, well, it’s exploitative.  Like lions being made to sit up and beg, or elephants balancing on balls.  It’s just a spectacle.”
 
Aizee laughed.  “A spectacle?  You know this is a circus, right?  And you’re making that judgement without ever having seen my act.  You think I’m just another elephant?  Oh, and for the record, I don’t do it naked.”
 
She shrugged off her robe.  Anderson spun around, blushing even more.
 
“Really?” she said.  “We’re not even the same species.  Look, I’m wearing pants.”
 
Anderson turned.  She was indeed wearing pants.  The lights in the big top reflected off thousands of sequins.  They managed to look skimpy, while at the same time being big enough for two people to bivouac inside.
 
“Um – you’ve forgotten –“  Anderson waved vaguely at his chest.  Aizee sighed.
 
“We lay eggs.  We don’t have nipples, never mind boobs.  Jeez, if you were any tighter you’d snap.  This is the circus.  Look.  Daniella up there.  She wears three sequins and a smile.  It’s called show business for a reason.”  She threw her robe to the side and mounted the bike.  “You might want to step outside the ring,” she said.
 
She stood on the pedals, her claws wrapping around them like a bird on a perch.  There was no saddle, Anderson noticed.  She started to pedal, slowly at first, with the occasional wobble before she started to build up speed.  How heavy was it, he wondered.
 
She rode close to the ring’s edge, moving anti-clockwise around the whole arena, gradually building up speed.  After the third circuit she must have been close to thirty miles an hour.  Then, with an audible snap, she flicked out her wings.  He ducked as she passed, despite the wings being six feet over his head.  It was, he had to concede, not on a par with an elephant balancing on a ball.  It was achingly graceful, as though she were flying.  She gave a flap and the bike accelerated.  And then she brought her wings down so hard she left the ground.  She kicked and the bike spun 360 degrees below her as she held the handlebars.  She landed on two wheels and accelerated again.  The next flap took her even higher and she spun the bike twice below her before landing.  She cornered tightly, cutting across the ring and cornered again, sawdust flying under her rear wheel as she started clockwise circuits.  She skidded to a halt, then pulled back on the handlebars.  The bike reared and she hopped on the rear tyre, her wings spread to form a magnificent backdrop.  She cycled forward, her front wheel still in the air, then braked.  The front wheel thumped onto the ground, throwing up the rear.  She balanced there, hopping on the wide front tyre.  Finally she put both wheels on the ground and accelerated around the ring.  As she reached top speed she cut across the ring directly at Anderson, sliding sideways and covering him with sawdust.
 
Anderson stared at her, his mouth open.  She waited.  He continued to stare.
 
“Well?” she said at last.
 
Anderson continued to stare.
 
“There’s other stuff in the full routine, but – “
 
Anderson dropped his clipboard and applauded.  Aizee dismounted.  “I’ll let Jack know we can eat this week,” she said, as she pushed the bike towards the back door.  “And you owe me a Winner Takes All.”