Bane and Shadow

by Jon Skovron

  Hope remembered how uncomfortable Filler, Nettles, and even Red had been when they went to Hammer Point to meet Big Sig. It hadn’t seemed all that much different to her, but they’d acted like they were going to a foreign land.

  “But I see a lot of people here from Hollow Falls.” Hope pointed to a group of young, well-dressed, orange-powdered lacies in spotless coats and gowns. “You never ventured down here for a play or concert? Did you know that your aunt’s artwork was recently on display at one of the most renowned galleries in the empire?”

  “I confess I’ve never really had much appreciation for the arts,” Alash said sheepishly.

  “As similar as you look, it’s amazing how different you and Red are,” said Hope.

  “Both in artistic talent and charm, I fear,” Alash said gloomily.

  Jilly ducked behind Hope and punched Alash playfully on the shoulder, then quickly moved back to her own side. “Come on now, you salthead. You’re not bad on the gander. You just lack confidence. Mollies like a tom who’s pat, that’s all.”

  “What would you know about such things?” asked Hope.

  “Oh, I know all about toms and mollies. I’m nearly a woman myself, after all.”

  Hope smiled. “Is that so?”

  “Sure. Sadie says I’m due for my first bleed anytime now.”

  “And that’s what you believe makes a woman?” asked Hope.

  “Well, what else?” demanded Jilly.

  “You’re a bit short,” Alash said.

  “Nettles is short,” said Jilly. “Nearly as short as me when you put us side by side.”

  “I suppose that’s true,” said Alash. “She seems taller, due to her… eh… personality. And anyway, she has other womanly attributes.”

  “So you’re saying I either need to be taller or have big tits to be a woman?”

  “Not exactly…” Alash’s face was beginning to redden.

  “See, this,” said Jilly, “is the point where you should stop talking and just look pretty.”

  “And now I’m getting advice from little girls,” muttered Alash.

  “If the shoe’s already on, lace it.” Jilly skipped over and gave him another punch.

  “What does that even mean?” Alash rubbed his shoulder.

  Hope found it interesting how Jilly had begun to change during her time aboard the Kraken Hunter. Much of her military manner had faded away to reveal a clever, talkative girl who reminded Hope pleasantly of Red.

  “Becoming a woman has little to do with your body,” she told Jilly. “It is a state of confidence and strength you reach over the course of many years of both success and failure.”

  “When did you become a woman?” Jilly asked, then added, “Teacher.” Since Hope had begun the initial stages of Jilly’s Vinchen training, Hope had decided she should use the traditional form of address.

  “I think that the process is still ongoing,” Hope said. “But perhaps it began when I chose to step away from the path of the true Vinchen and make my own way. We are all faced with choices that, for better or worse, define our lives.”

  “Like how I chose to join your crew?” asked Jilly.

  “What was the other option?” asked Hope. “To remain behind on a ship of the dead and one lone survivor who hated you for being a girl?” Hope shook her head. “Not much of a choice, was it?”

  “I guess not.” Jilly looked disappointed.

  “Don’t be in such a hurry to grow up,” said Hope. “Learn from me and Brigga Lin. I’m sure even Alash here has things he could teach you.”

  “Me?” Alash looked surprised.

  “Of course. Imagine a Vinchen biomancer who embraced your mechanical sciences.”

  “That would be a nice change,” Alash admitted.

  Hope turned back to Jilly. “Learn all you can from anyone who will teach you. Then, when the time comes for you to truly take command of your destiny, you will be ready.”

  Jilly nodded, her face serious.

  “You know,” continued Hope, “the woman we’re going to see now probably has a few things she could teach you.”

  “Really?”

  “Old Yammy taught Red a great many things, including his uncanny ability to talk himself into and out of trouble.”

  “Are we almost there?” Jilly’s eyes were suddenly eager.

  “Nearly,” said Hope.

  But when they arrived at Madame Destiny’s House of All, it was boarded up.

  “Strange.” Hope frowned as she stared up at the darkened spot on the lintel where the sign once hung.

  “Perhaps she moved?” said Alash.

  “I suppose. But it doesn’t seem likely. This has been her shop for a very long time.”

  “Maybe something happened to her,” said Jilly.

  “That’s what I’m worried about,” said Hope.

  “Let’s ask around,” said Alash. “Perhaps one of her neighbors knows what happened.”

  Before Hope could stop him, Alash walked over to an old man sitting on a nearby stoop. The man was grimy and bleary-eyed, and didn’t look to Hope like the sort of person who noticed things.

  “I say, fronzie!” said Alash.

  The man flinched and seemed to withdraw into himself. “Begging your pardon, your lordship. I ain’t done nothing wrong.”

  “Drown all that,” Alash said impatiently. “We want to know what happened to the woman who owned this shop.”

  “I ain’t got nothing to do with it,” he said quickly.

  Hope approached more slowly, so as not to alarm him any further. “Do you know Old Yammy? I’m a friend of hers.”

  The man looked at her suspiciously. “Maybe I know her. Maybe I don’t.”

  Hope held up a coin between two fingers with a slight flourish, just as she’d seen Red do it. “Does this help you remember?”

  His old face curled up on either side, one big wrinkly smile. “Now that you press on the matter, I do remember a kind, neighborly sort who sometimes went by that name. Used to give me a bite to eat on a bad winter day.”

  “Do you know what happened to her, then?”

  “A couple of imps came one night. Made such a noise it woke me up. They put her in a wagon and took her off.”

  “Do you know why? Or where they took her?”

  “Not sure, but I might remember a little more to help you along your way.” He looked meaningfully at the coin. “If pressed a bit further.”

  Hope pulled out another coin, not bothering with the flourish this time.

  The man’s face lit up again. “Ah yes, well, I don’t rightly know the whys or the ways, but I reckon her friends across the way might.”

  He pointed to a small theater on the other side of the street. The building looked shabby, with peeling paint and a dingy sign that read:

  Honey Street Players present:

  New shows nightly!

  Poetical perils! Tragic terrors! Rollicking romance!

  Featuring that shining star of Silverback, the Luscious Lymestria!

  “Her friends live… there?” asked Alash.

  “Or work there.” Hope tossed the coins to the old man. “Thanks, old wrink. Don’t drink yourself to death with it.”

  As they crossed the street, Jilly asked, “Why do you use words like a proper wag sometimes, teacher?”

  “A good question,” said Hope. “I’m not really sure. It just seems the right word to use at that moment. Maybe I’ve heard it spoken around me so much that it’s become a part of my language as well.”

  “I reckon it’s the spirit of the original Dire Bane coming into you more every day,” said Jilly.

  Hope smiled. “Perhaps.”

  It was only midafternoon, well before most theaters opened. Hope knocked on the door with her clamp. They stood silently for a moment, but there was no response, so Hope knocked again, this time much louder.

  Finally the door opened to reveal a tall, shirtless man with a vast, hairy belly and a long full beard. He wore an odd hat that loo
ked like the top of a seal head, so it seemed like two sets of eyes glared down at her.

  “House don’t open for three hours,” he said roughly. “Come back then.” He began to close the door.

  “I’m looking for my friend, Old Yammy,” Hope said quickly.

  The door paused.

  “Do you know what happened to her?” asked Hope.

  The door slowly opened again. “Old Yammy never mentioned having a Southie friend,” said the hairy man.

  “I don’t know her very well,” admitted Hope. “But she helped raise a good friend of mine.”

  The man’s bushy eyebrows rose. “Raised him, huh? What’s the name of this good friend of yours?”

  “His full name is Rixidenteron, but he usually goes by—”

  “Red!” The man’s whole demeanor changed. He stood straighter, his voice no longer harsh but clear and booming. He put his thick, hairy hands on her shoulders and looked pointedly at her. “You know Little Rix?”

  Hope sighed. “If he owes you money, I’m sure we can work something out.”

  The man chuckled and patted her shoulders, then released her. “You know him, alright. Wonderful! Come in! Come in!” He herded them into the dim lobby and closed the door behind them.

  “This is Alash, from Hollow Falls,” Hope said. “Alash is Red’s cousin.”

  The man grabbed a lit candle that guttered on the ledge of the box office window and held it up to Alash.

  “Damn it to all the hells, but they could be brothers! I can’t believe I didn’t see it right away! But where are my manners? I am the Great and Mysterious Broomefedies!” He bowed low, spilling wax onto the floor from the lit candle he still held. “But most people call me Broom.”

  “This is Jilly from Paradise Circle,” said Hope. “You may call me Captain Dire Bane.”

  Broom’s eyes narrowed. “Dire Bane, is it? A bold moniker.” He continued to gaze at her for a moment, then suddenly smiled. “Come! We must drink together to the health of Old Yammy and Little Rix!”

  He turned to a set of large double doors and shoved them open dramatically. If Red spent part of his childhood with this man, she was beginning to see where he got his flair for showmanship.

  “Well,” she said to Alash and Jilly. “I think we’ve made a new friend.” Then she followed Broom into the theater.

  It was a modest space of about two hundred seats with wooden backs and threadbare cushions. A gaslit chandelier hung overhead, festooned with strips of blue and green fabric. The stage was on a steep rake and scattered with rocks that had been painted to look like coral. One person was painting with old sponges to make the textured look of coral, and two others were hanging additional strips of fabric around the stage. All three wore seal-head hats like Broom’s.

  Broom gestured to the stage, his round belly bouncing slightly. “A new design we’re trying for our current production.”

  “It’s very pretty,” said Jilly, looking impressed.

  “What’s the play called?” asked Alash.

  “Ah! It’s called The Rape and Ignominious Death of Lady Porsepine. What do you think?”

  “I suppose the title gives us everything we need to know,” said Hope.

  Broom’s high spirits suddenly plunged. “Yes, a tawdry affair hardly worthy of being called a play.” He scratched at his gut, his expression gloomy. “Times being what they are, it’s the only sort of thing that brings ’em in. I tell you, there’s no appreciation for true artistry on the stage anymore.” Then he slapped his belly, the sound reverberating through the theater, and his grin returned. “But that’s the way of things. My old theater master said the same to me, and whichever poor bastard I pass my legacy on to will say it as well. Now, how’s to a drink!”

  He picked up a large, flat plank of wood and dropped it on top of the seat backs. Then he placed an earthenware jug on the plank and gave them a wink. “I always say that a table is wherever I put my drink!” Then he sat down in one of the theater seats.

  Hope and the others awkwardly positioned themselves around the plank as well.

  Broom hefted the jug. “To bad luck and better days!” He took a swallow and passed it to Hope.

  “It seems as though you know Red very well.” Hope placed her captain’s hat on the table, then took a sip from the jug and winced. She had no idea what was in the jug, but she thought perhaps it might be a solvent or cleaning solution of some kind. She handed the jug to Alash with a look she hoped communicated caution.

  “Know him?” asked Broom. “There were times we couldn’t get rid of him! When he was very young, maybe about three or four, his father would sometimes appear in our plays. He was not a great actor, but you can never have too many pretty people onstage, and he was about the most handsome man I ever saw.” He sighed, his eyes growing distant. “And that Gulia… she knew how to throw a proper party…”

  Alash began coughing and gasping. He stared down at the jug as if afraid he’d just ingested poison and might die at any moment. He held the jug out to Broom.

  “Hey, what about me?” asked Jilly.

  “I’m not sure you would enjoy it,” said Hope.

  Jilly grabbed the jug from Alash. “Two years in the imperial navy. I could drink more than both of you put together.” She tipped the jug back and took a large gulp. She let out a wheeze and wiped at her watering eyes. “That’s some quality drop, my wag. Where’d you get it?”

  Broom beamed. “We make it ourselves down in the cellar.” He took another swallow and wiped at his own eyes. “An artistic mind needs trimming now and then,” he said to Hope with a hint of defensiveness. “Otherwise it grows heavy with adornments and affectations.”

  Hope smiled. “I am not overly artistic myself, so I will trust to your good judgment on the matter.”

  Broom returned her smile. He scratched at his shaggy beard. “Now where was I…”

  “My aunt Gulia gave great parties?” asked Alash.

  “Ah yes. And so, with them in the community, so to speak, Little Rix was always underfoot. Practically the company pet for a while. You wouldn’t believe how the cast would dote on him. Then of course Gulia started to have some troubles. I told her to lay off the coral spice. That stuff will eat the brains right out of your skull, I said. But you know how it is.” He shrugged helplessly. Hope didn’t really know how it was. It was the thing about Red’s childhood she struggled with the most. His mother didn’t sound like a stupid woman. She had seen what the drug had done to her child. Why did she continue to take it? But Hope had never struggled with addiction or had the mixed blessing of an artistic mind. Perhaps it was something she would never understand.

  “Anyway,” said Broom, “she took offense to what I said, stormed out, took her family with her, and that was the last I saw of them. Heard from Old Yammy that his parents passed on and that Little Rix had disappeared. Years later he came back, as handsome as his dad and as feisty as his mom. Paradise Circle was a little too hot for him right then, so he decided to lay low with Yammy awhile. He stayed with her, learning whatever strange things she had to teach during the day. But at night he’d come over here and help out.”

  “He acted in plays?” asked Hope.

  “He surely did!” said Broom. “Natural talent for stagecraft. I even tried to get him to stay on as my apprentice, become the theater master when I’m too old and fat and drunk to do it anymore. But of course he had more… dangerous aspirations.” He took another drink and belched loudly. “What can I say? Thievery pays better than theater.”

  “Broom, you goat-pricked ass-tosser!” A penetrating female voice rang through the theater. A moment later, a woman with long flowing hair swept onto the stage. She wore a red-and-black-checkered gown that covered almost none of her large bosom.

  “Ah, Lymestria!” said Broom. “You look lovely!”

  “Don’t lovely me, you aging, has-been cock-dribble.” Lymestria walked to the foot of the stage and glared at him, her fists on her hips. “You are ruining my
career!”

  “Oh, piss,” muttered Broom. Then louder, “Whatever do you mean, oh treasure of New Laven theater?”

  “I’m talking about this new play in which my character is raped to death onstage by a pack of seals! It’s an outrage! I won’t do it!”

  Broom gave Hope an apologetic smile. “Won’t you excuse me a moment?” Then he stood up and sidled out into the aisle. He pulled the seal hat off, revealing a shiny bald dome with a fringe of long curly hair. “My darling Lymestria, I promise you, this play will save your career.”

  She folded her arms across her chest in a way that pushed her large breasts even further out. It seemed to Hope that they were almost like a defensive weapon of some kind.

  “I should be playing Archlady Ramfist! Or the Madwoman of Walta! Real roles in real plays!”

  Broom reached the foot of the stage, but instead of climbing up to stand next to her, he remained below and reverently took the hem of her gown in his hands. “I couldn’t agree more, brightest light in Silverback. You are without a doubt the greatest actress of our age and it is a privilege to work with you.”

  He tenderly kissed the hem of her skirts and her expression softened somewhat. But then she took a deep breath, her bosom rising to new heights. “Well, then, shouldn’t I have the roles that befit my talent?”

  “You should!” he said vehemently. “It is an outrage that you do not have the opportunity to truly spread your wings as you were meant to do. But…” He sighed heavily. “The times being what they are…” He sighed again. Hope wondered if he felt dizzy from all the sighing. “People don’t appreciate the classics anymore. Nobody will pay to see a master-piece like The Madwoman of Walta these days.” He held up his seal hat and glared at it. “This, oh jewel of the empire, is what they want to see. And what I want, more than anything else in the world, is to have a theater full of your fans every night. Isn’t that what you want?”

  “My fans…” Her voice faltered and she placed her hands over her bosom. “I must… give them what they want. Mustn’t I?”

  “It is your choice entirely, my darling.”