"Can't be more than 200 feet," Maire said without looking up.
At least, Philomena figured the first was Yair and the second Maire. Even those who'd been with the circus a lot longer than she had trouble telling them apart. But then, that was their stock in trade. Mysterious disappearances and reappearances, mostly, and variations thereon. And, for the special higher-paying customers, the mysterious Man-Woman Yaire Barraclough, changing sex not quite before your very eyes...
Nobody was quite sure about them. Some people thought they were twins, and didn't think too much about the noises coming from the tent they shared, at night; others thought they must have gotten surgery, but if they could afford that, what were they doing with a two-bit circus?
"Better get under cover," she told them. "They get any lower, they'll be able to see you two, and all it'll take is one glimpse of the pair to spoil the whole act."
Maire--she was sure it was Maire--smiled impishly. "Let's go, then." No mistaking the glint in her eyes. The two dashed off into the camp.
Philomena didn't have Maire's talent for guessing, but the mine couldn't be much more than fifty feet off the ground by now. Darcy had made the landing large enough, she saw with relief. She glanced down at herself, adjusted her skirt slightly, and made ready to welcome the night's marks.
Based on the words: Altitude Coalmine Circus Double
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The Den of Ubiquity/ Aaron V. Humphrey / email@example.com