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‘It’s too noisy. How can decent people get any rest out here with that sort of racket? It’s like someone filling a bin with coins. This damn heat too,’ Misu whined, her fingers now violently scratching through unkempt hair. ‘My kingdom for some sleep. Or your kingdom. I would sacrifice every one of these pretty carriages for some shut-eye. Just so you know how desperate I am on that front.’
‘It’s hotter in the Sand Sea.’
‘Yes but it’s so humid out here. I feel like I’m turning into water! You best put a jug underneath me in case I melt for good.’
Franco snorted. ‘It’s too hot for that sort of effort. If the unfortunate event occurs I’ll fetch the mop. You have my word.’
‘Funny, funny bastard.’ She smirked, fanning herself. Her eyes drifted to his game.
‘That’s new. What is it?’
‘Solitaire. Some people call it patience.’ Franco shimmied a card from one stack to another.
‘It looks boring,’ Misu dismissed, wiping her brow before fanning herself with Franco’s notebook.
‘On the contrary. Like its namesake it teaches patience and focus. Most of all, though, it pitches you against the greatest opponent you’ll ever face off against.’
‘Which is …?’
Franco married a red-suited ace into a line for completion.
‘Yourself,’ he stated, finally taking his eyes from the table and watching her wave his notebook back and forth for relief. ‘People weave in and out of a person’s existence. Roles change. A friend can become a nemesis in the blink of an eye. Many believe that your greatest competitor is the one inside. I happen to subscribe to that notion. If you can overcome yourself, then you can take on the world. Also, I need that.’
‘I bet you do.’ She passed the notebook back over, keeping her cheeky smile. ‘For keeping track of your genius no doubt. How long are we up north for? The views are pretty but among getting bitten to pieces by the insects and enduring it raining half the time, its charm is seriously waning. Not that the alone time with you isn’t joyous.’
Franco leant back from his game, quite done with staring at card faces for this evening. ‘We can’t go back as we are. The Gambler’s Den was far too well known and if we just try and perform like nothing’s changed, it’s going to be pretty obvious that you and I, for all intents and purposes, didn’t die. Even your change of hair colour won’t be able to sway that. And that’s the crux of it all.’
He leant forward, sterner, the words quite weighty with seriousness.
‘Wilheim Fort is out there. If it’s all the same I would like him to continue thinking that we are bones in the sand. If he ever thought differently, there’s a chance –’
‘There’s no guesswork here,’ Misu interrupted, now just as serious. Her fingers skimmed the glass lip in circles. ‘He would come for us. He would hunt us down. Be relentless. He’ll do things that you couldn’t possibly imagine.’
‘You think so?’
‘I know so. I was the one who carried those punishments out at times. People who wronged him simply didn’t expect the angle he came from. Friends, family, acquaintances … He’ll know them and he’ll exploit them. They’ll be broken. Then, finally, you’ll be left to rot as an example to others.’
She suddenly blinked in horror, as if quite surprised at her candid confession, a mixture of the alcohol and sleep deprivation loosening her lips.
‘It’s okay,’ Franco stated, swigging again and feeling the light breeze that wafted through the window. ‘We’ve all done things we regret. We change. You’ve changed, clearly. I figure there’s a difference between who a person was and who they are in the present if they desire to change. You’re not that person now, are you?’
* * *
‘Not at all.’ Her eyes scrunched to a close. She was unsure whether this was even the truth. But it sounded good. It sounded like what needed to be said at this time.
‘There you go then.’
Misu paused before speaking what was next on her mind, wondering if it overstepped the mark. She did so anyway, seeing as they had come this far. What was the worst that could happen?
‘Did the thought ever go through your head – and I’m not suggesting anything; I’m just discussing the possibility … You have the train, some money. You don’t have to do the show is what I’m getting at. You could go off and live your life away from the limelight. You have an entirely new one to live, one you’ve earned, free from people like Wilheim doing the things that people like him do. Sometimes I struggle to understand why you would want to jeopardize that. Did you ever consider cashing in this second chance? Leaving all this behind?’
Franco narrowed his eyes and drank again, heavily. ‘Let me answer your question with a question,’ he replied, wagging the bottle. ‘After what happened, why are you still here, with me, aboard this here train? The way I see it you have an opportunity yourself yet you’re squandering it with me. Explain that one.’ He took the bottle to his lips once more.
Misu clasped her hands together in thought. ‘I guess … No, I mean, I …’ She struggled with forming the reason and instead fell on the only words that made any sort of honest sense. ‘I felt compelled. That’s the only way I can describe it.’
More accurately, she sought redemption. She was committed to make amends for the wrongs that her treachery had caused. To the girls. To the train. To him.
Not that she could say that of course. Pride made sure of that.
‘There you go.’ Franco placed the bottle down. ‘I feel compelled too. I don’t question why I’m drawn to this lifestyle. I don’t spend hours analysing it for some grand revelation that will make my life all the more complete. I am compelled, as are you.’
That was all that was said on the matter.
Misu subconsciously twirled her dyed blonde hair around a finger, mulling over the predicament. The Morning Star had to be considerably different. What they did previously was unprecedented, which made things all the more difficult.
‘So what is it that we actually need? Has all this thinking helped you come to a conclusion yet?’
‘We need to be bigger and better,’ Franco confirmed, offering to refill her glass, though she declined by covering it with a hand. In response he took a mouthful from the bottle itself in lieu of a glass. ‘We need to up the ante in every sense. We become unique enough that nobody makes the connection between the Star and the Den. We pride ourselves on our show. Let’s give them the biggest one the Sand Sea has ever known. Bigger fireworks, better performances by those we hire, an occasion to assault the senses! Right now, though, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something lacking. Something that punctuates the spectacle. We need … we need …’
A fox and its cubs yelped noisily through the bush, their calls totally alien to the pair, who watched them slink through the foliage, orange brush strokes upon a green canvas. The mother fox stared with haunted glowing spheres before continuing onward to their destination.
Misu snatched away the notepad feverishly, scrawling onto a page with the pen before tearing it out roughly.
‘Stay with me here,’ she excitedly exclaimed. She poked holes through in two points, scribbled shapes with the pen and held it level with Franco’s face so it covered the top half. When convinced, she turned it around for him to take. Immediately his face lit up with delight. It had crudely drawn ears and a nose but despite the lack of artistic talent, it clearly resembled a fox.
Masks.
To secure their safety and create mystique they would wear masks.
* * *
‘You know, I always wondered how that came about,’ Corinne declared.
‘You never thought of asking?’ Misu watched the streaks of water on the glass shift in direction as the Morning Star took a corner.
‘I felt there was no point. What you say goes. Or what he says goes more accurately – you know what I’m getting at. I’ve learnt never to question the boss.’
‘You learnt never to question Franco. I’m not him.’
‘You have his mantle though.’
Quickly, Misu changed the subject, turning away from the windows as a prolonged fork of lightning reflected her appearance back to herself for far longer than was comfortable.
‘We have a day before we pull in to our next event. Are all the preparations made?’
‘The call-aheads have affixed posters and energetically spread rumours on our behalf. Apparently people are very receptive to our arrival.’
Misu popped a brow. Whenever a destination was set, she would send word ahead that anybody who would put up their promotional material and fan the excitement would be reimbursed in coin.
‘Receptive? Really?’
‘Their word.’
‘They’re mistaken if they believe that using big words to label their work will shake a bonus out of me.’ Misu flicked through the papers, withdrawing a couple of sheets of calculations.
‘How are we when it comes to finances?’ Corinne asked.
‘Good. Surprisingly good actually. Better than the Gambler’s Den at least, so we’re already marks up on that front. Apparently, from what I’m told, people adore the mystique of our disguises. They’re more magical.’
‘We don’t do magic. Nothing of the sort.’
‘No, but let them believe what they want. It makes the punters more …’ She clicked her fingers, attempting to remember the specific word.
‘Receptive?’ Corinne offered.
‘Yes. That.’
‘I suppose I should have a talk with the others about tomorrow.’ Corinne lifted herself from her seat with a hearty grunt. It would have been a fine place to waste the next couple of hours but duty called. ‘Is there anything you need me to discuss on your behalf?’
There was plenty. Katerina needed to ensure the bar didn’t run out of hot spirits being that it was a trend out this way to light their shots on fire before downing them. Colette had been slightly missing her cues on the 9 p.m. performance – just enough to be noticeable. Some of those serving drinks needed to cosy up to the more inebriated patrons as they tended to tip better. But most importantly, Misu wanted everybody to stay away from Car Six for the evening like their lives depended on it.
Because it did.
‘No. I leave it in your capable hands,’ she lied, giving a false smile in appreciation. Corinne went to leave before remembering a titbit of information that her manager might appreciate.
‘Which reminds me … I’ve spoken to Elizabeth personally. She will be performing tomorrow, which is nice. I’d figured she would have been bedridden for another week but I’m glad to be wrong on that. It’s been too long since we’ve seen what she’s capable of.’
‘The girl does have plenty to prove,’ Misu added.
‘She’s up to the task. You have my word on that.’
Chapter 5 (#ub482d68b-e776-5ad6-ae28-0eac347173b1)
The drop
It was not unknown for the Morning Star to perform twice, maybe three times a week, depending on how close each location was. Putting on a show that encompassed the day before and lasted until the following dawn could be a logistical nightmare, but with the dedication of the staff, the entertainment ran without trouble.
Mostly.
It’s why Misu had to fight the urge to micromanage every event, even when she had allocated others to do the job for her. Previously, on more than one occasion, those behind the bar had been sent into disarray by conflicting requests from both her and Corinne. It was not a matter of trust, but more one of control. Of course Misu trusted those beneath her to do their jobs; she just felt the urge to witness it personally.
The staff worked around this, more than aware that the fluid nature of their roles required on-the-spot thinking. At least most of them did.
The most recent addition to their menagerie was just finding this out.
Her grumblings were listened to, but not acted upon, as her upbringing had made her boisterous and her attitude grating. Many a time she vented to anyone who would listen about how she would run the show and how improvements could be made. She was trouble from the outset.
Misu endured this, as no matter how irritating the little platinum blonde thing became, her talent was desirable. Maybe it wasn’t desirable to anyone else in the region, as respected skills normally equated to fence building and cattle herding, but for the Morning Star, it was ideal. The little farm girl picked up in the middle of nowhere had become the show’s secret weapon and not without cause. Now recovered from the illness that had plagued her, she was scheduled to be the next act of the night.
Misu looked at her watch, noting how much time, or specifically how little, remained. Tonight would be close, too close in all honestly, but that was a moot point now. The Hare took to the carriage rooftops and confidently strolled along, capturing everyone’s attention. Her appearance brought two spotlights mounted on the platform itself to illuminate her stroll across with the beam. Those who were dancing tonight had run inside two of the carriages for a costume change. Their music had been blaring from conical horns that straddled carriage roofs, music that chattered from a phonograph. Those who gambled at the tables slowed. Those who drank lowered their glasses in unison.
Brilliant blue coat-tails flicked behind with every step, shimmering gold accents all picking up the light and emitting it back. Misu counted under her breath, reaching her mark.
As the music reduced and the lights faded to a single beaming spotlight, silence enveloped the crowd. Misu played the quiet, just enough to captivate those before her. The Hare drank in the gazes upon her.
‘Ladies and gentlemen, your attention please – a moment of your time!’ Misu sharply clapped, strutting across the carriage roof with top hat in hand, demanding everyone’s attention. She needn’t have done so. The sea of faces had already turned from their drinks, their games, and gave it.
‘We have something quite special for you tonight. Each one of those in my employ has talents. They’re talents that I respect and ones that I nurture. Most importantly of all, these are talents that we share. In the last month, I found quite the remarkable desert rose, whose voice carries most beautifully in song. Alas, I’m sad to say she has an affliction of shyness.’
The audience roared in amused objection.
‘I know, and I assure you that her voice is beyond measure. Why, it makes my own sound like a pack of dogs howling. While I am her employer, and have asked her to perform for you here, our little Songbird falls flat on my words. A crime, my friends, a crime in every sense of the word.’
‘Mutiny in the ranks?’ A voice drifted up among the collective, encouraging a ripple of belly laughter. Misu strolled along the carriage rooftop, pointing the man out with a gesture of her cane.
‘Mutiny is punished on land, on a boat or indeed on a train, friend, but I cannot force her to perform for you, though to perform is my deepest wish. My fair ladies do not respond to orders, for that is not how we run things on the Morning Star. You do not beg a bird to soar, nor a fish to swim. Rather, you put them in an agreeable environment and watch them revert to their nature.’
Again, she thrived on the silence, gesturing with her fingers in faux thought. Every word was delivered with sincerity, false sincerity maybe, but sincerity all the same.
‘Though a notion have I, and a kind one at that. I think your affection will change her mindset. Encourage her wings, even! Yes, I am sure that that your encouragement may coax her performance. If you would be so kind as to oblige.’
On cue glasses were lifted and calls of approval rose up before dissipating fast.
‘How warming! Do you think that will be enough? I’m doubtful.’
With a rise of her arms, the crowd cheered once more, louder this time.
‘Oh, this is pleasant for certain, though maybe just a touch more may curb her fickle mind.’
The audience roared into the night sky, laughing cheers on the tail end of a crescendo of noise.
‘Unbelievable.’ Misu pressed her hands to her chest, surveying those before her intimately beneath the animal visage. ‘Quite unbelievable. You all warm my heart, my kind, loving people. That most certainly will quell any nerves. Please, do not let the demeanour of our little one fool you. After all, a snake harbours fangs and a wasp conceals its sting. In this instance, our splendid addition sings beautifully. So, without any further pause, I present to you, the Songbird of the Morning Star!’
As the lights set on the Morning Star dimmed, the single snap of a spotlight broke out from an interior window. It was moved forward until the oval luminescence settled upon a lone figure at the opposite end of the carriages. Every head turned. Every pair of eyes was fixed in attention, eyes that now paid no mind to Misu, which was exactly what she intended.
A woman, short and fair, stood in luminescence. In this brilliance, she stood with head slightly bowed, with brilliant blue eyes ever so slightly hidden from the spectators. A frizzy shock of platinum curls framed the porcelain-like face, pale and smooth, broken only with glimmering peach lips.
The mask upon her face was that of a small bird, true to her namesake, with the beak small and pointed and the eye sockets wide. Its edges were feathered in a few layers but gave the illusion of considerable lustre. A multitude of beads hung at different lengths, made from stones few could correctly identify, plunging down the collar of a showgirl’s azure outfit of lace and frills with no permutation. Thin fingers reached to the microphone stand that stood before her and they enveloped it with utmost tenderness.
With a delicate inhalation, Elizabeth began to sing.
I’m lying next to a charlatan,
Yet I’m still thinking of you,
I see your face when he touches me,
Can’t do the things that you do.
