Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  “Died in prison six months later.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “It happens,” I said and suddenly felt a strong urge to get going. “Well, I need to get to the ship,” I said. I polished off my tea as I rose. Fishing a couple of coins out of my pocket, I set them on the table. My eyes caught sight of the tea leaves in the bottom of my cup. Again, I spotted a swan. I pushed the plate with my unfinished scone across the table to Arthur. “Enjoy mine too. Sorry I can’t help,” I told him.

  “Lily,” he said, rising. It seemed he did not know what to say. “Thanks anyway. Congratulations, by the way, on second place yesterday.”

  “Thanks,” I said, tossing on my cap. “Good luck, Arthur,” I said and exited the teahouse.

  Chapter Four

  Rather than heading directly to the towers, I turned toward Hungerford Market. Walking briskly, I found myself in the middle of the busy market less than fifteen minutes later. I passed the fish mongers, fruit carts, and butcher stands on my way to the back.

  Though my stomach felt better, my head still ached. Giving in at last, I stopped in a dark corner between two stalls and pulled out the small bottle of laudanum Byron had given me. I took one drop. I leaned against a beam, closed my eyes, and let it work. I took a couple of deep breaths, and soon my head began to clear.

  I resumed my course to the back of the market. There, in the dim light, I found Tinkers’ Hall. The tradesmen were hard at work. The fireworks vendors, clock makers, jewelers, and other gadgetry vendors were huddled into one end of the market. It was easy to find their section. A ten foot clock tower, an exact replica of Tinkers’ Tower at the Palace of Westminster, which had been a gift from the London Tinkers’ Society to Queen Anne, sat at the entryway of their stalls. A bell struck sharply at the top of every hour. The smell of sulfur from the fireworks makers burned your nose. A chorus of hammers struck metal, filling the place with a sound you could feel. Row after row of vendors displayed unique gadgetry, clothing, and mechanical parts.

  I wove toward the back. Unlike the front stalls, here no one screamed out their wares. Old men with thick, white moustaches and bushy eyebrows looked up at me from behind monocles, their stalls filled with an assortment of gears and parts. I waved at Budgie, a vendor from whom I often bought spare parts. He had been working on a gun of some sort, adjusting the small gears with a very tiny tool. He had his jeweler’s monocle wedged into his eye socket. He removed it when he spotted me.

  “Lily? Didn’t break a part yesterday, did you? I didn’t see Angus—”

  “No, we’re good. I’m headed to see the Italian.”

  “Ah, good, good,” he said with a wave then turned back to his work.

  The Italian. It’s how everyone referred to Salvatore. While Angus and Jessup called him that too, he was a good friend to me. His always had new, ingenious ways to improve the Stargazer or remarkable contraptions, like the clockwork bodice, for me to try. He was also incredibly attractive.

  When I reached his stall, he was not in the front. He had his lanterns burning, but he was nowhere to be seen. I leaned across the counter to look at his workbench. He had several small gears and screws laid out as well as coils of copper wire and magnets. Sitting under a plate-sized magnifying glass was a small device with the tiniest clockwork gears I’d ever seen. The door to his workshop behind the stall was open. I hopped over the counter and headed back.

  “Sal?” I called, knocking on the door. I looked inside. I didn’t see him anywhere. “Sal?”

  A hand dropped on my shoulder.

  I jumped.

  “Miss Stargazer, are you snooping?” he whispered in my ear as he gave my backside a soft squeeze.

  I turned to face him. He had his long, silver-streaked black hair tied at the nape of his neck. His glasses had been pushed up onto his head. His steel gray eyes looked piercingly at me. “Hi Sal,” I said, giving him a soft, sweet kiss.

  “That’s all?” he asked. “Well, I guess it must do for now. Please,” he motioned me inside.

  I went within and sat down.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I want you to look at something. Something…secret,” I said in a whisper. My eyes darted quickly back to the aisles outside.

  Sal closed the workshop door. He went to the pantry and pulled out a bottle. He poured us two small glasses of grappa. He handed one to me. I could smell the sharp spirit. My mouth watered.

  “Salute,” he said.

  Clinking glasses, we drank. He refilled mine; I drank again.

  “Now, what does my Lily have that is secret?” he asked.

  I pulled the kaleidoscope out of the bag and handed it to him. He unwrapped the device and looked closely at the markings on the outside. He lifted the kaleidoscope, aimed it at a nearby candle, and turned the dial.

  “She’s beautiful,” he said, lowering the kaleidoscope again.

  “What are these markings? Do they mean anything?” I asked, pointing to the images engraved on the sides.

  Sal lowered his glasses. “Flora, fauna, some geographical markers. But there is something else here,” he said. He took off his glasses then pulled on the thick pair of goggles he’d had hanging around his neck. He peered intently at the kaleidoscope. When he looked up at me, his eyes seemed ten times their size. “It’s ancient Greek.”

  “Can you read it?”

  “Of course. That is why you came to me, no?”

  I grinned.

  “It is like a poem: ‘Celestial queen with the kaleidoscope mind, come to me once more,’” Sal recited as he read the words. He lifted the kaleidoscope again and looked within. “There is something special in the glass. I cannot tell what unless I take it apart.”

  “Oh no, please leave it as it is,” I said quickly.

  He lowered it again and looked at the symbols engraved on the outside. “Some of these seem random, almost decorative: flowers, doves, apples, shells, swans.” He pulled off his goggles. “It is very beautiful. Where did you get it?”

  “Someone died to get this to me.”

  Sal raised an eyebrow inquisitively then handed me the kaleidoscope. He then picked up the cloth covering to pass to me as well. When he did so, however, the wrapping caught the light. For a brief moment, I saw something on the fabric.

  “Did you see that?” I asked, grabbing the cloth.

  I held it back up to the light. There, just barely visible in the bright light, was the outline of a swimming swan holding a flower in its beak.

  “Now, that is interesting,” Sal said and took the cloth from me. He looked closely at it and then smelled it. “It is drawn with a very light water and oil mixture. If this cloth is washed, the image will fade. Clever.”

  I looked at the cloth. “What kind of flower is that?”

  Sal looked closely. “It looks like an anemone.”

  I stared at the image then wrapped up the kaleidoscope and stuck it in my satchel.

  “Do you like Venice?” I asked him.

  “Ah, Venice. Oh yes. Very much.”

  “Good. Then you’re coming. Be at the airship towers tomorrow at dawn.”

  “Coming? To Venice?” Sal asked hesitantly.

  “Yes, to Venice,” I said then stood.

  Sal leaned back, put his hands behind his head, and exhaled deeply. He looked me over from head to toe. “You’re looking so beautiful today. Why are you in such a rush?”

  I grinned at him. “Well, I’m late to get to the Stargazer.”

  “If you are already late, what does another half an hour matter?”

  “Only half an hour?” I smiled wryly at Sal and then, setting my bag down, slid onto his lap. Sal reached over and grabbed the bottle of grappa. He took a small sip and then pulled me into a deep kiss. The sharp spirit spilled between our lips, burning my mouth.

  He gently pushed the shrug from my shoulders and slid the suspenders off. He then pulled my blouse up over my head and set it aside.

  “My Lily, what is this?”
He gently touched my breasts. I looked down to see that both breasts had dark fingerprint bruises.

  “Byron,” I replied.

  “Ahh,” Sal said, gently kissing the bruises, “someone must teach the great poet to be gentle with delicate things.”

  “He did like your corset.”

  “Well, he does have good taste.”

  I unbuttoned Sal’s shirt and rubbed the thick hair on his chest. Pushing his shirt off, I kissed his neck and shoulders, my hands roving across his muscular frame. I could smell the light scent of sandalwood on his skin. Sal stroked his hands across my back as he gently kissed my breasts and neck. I rose and removed my shorts.

  Sal stuck his hands between my legs and caressed me gently. “Tiger Lily,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss me through my lace underwear, feeling my breasts and backside. He leaned back and unlaced his pants. I slid my panties off, and he pulled me back onto him. Moments later we were flying.

  Sal was not like Byron, but his moves were not tepid. He was fluid and skilled. He was precise in the way he touched me, knowing what would arouse me. Perhaps twenty years my senior, it was not surprising that Sal knew what to do. He loved women, but he rarely left Tinkers’ Hall long enough to engage in any kind of real relationship. He was a perpetual bachelor, married to his craft before anything else. In this, and many other things, we were kindred spirits. And, I adored him. I enjoyed every sweet moment together. In fact, I was so lost in him that after both Sal and I reached release, I dozed off peacefully, nestled snugly against his chest.

  Lost in the void of sleep, I jumped when the clock tower at the end of the hall chimed eleven o’clock.

  “Oh, I’m so late. I need to go,” I groaned. I grabbed the bottle of grappa and took a large swig.

  “So soon?” Sal asked sleepily as he smoothed my hair.

  “The boys are waiting,” I replied. I could already hear the earful I was going to get from my crew. I took another drink.

  “Ah, well, then you should go.”

  “You’ll be there in the morning?”

  “Of course.”

  I kissed Sal, who was looking very drowsy, then hurriedly got dressed and headed toward the airship towers. On the way there, I braced myself for a scolding I probably deserved. It would not be the first, and no doubt, it would not be the last.

  Chapter Five

  “Lily, where in the hell have you been?” Jessup demanded the moment I reached the Stargazer’s platform.

  Angus was leaning against the hull of the Stargazer looking like he was trying to decide whether or not to be angry.

  My head had already started to ache. Assembled outside the Stargazer were Angus, Jessup, Byron’s secretary, who was holding a large package, and an impatient looking constable.

  “I—”

  “Lord Byron’s secretary has been rerouting our fares all morning. What the hell is going on?” Jessup complained.

  The constable opened his mouth and stepped forward, but Byron’s secretary motioned for him to be silent.

  “Miss Stargazer,” Byron’s secretary interrupted, “I did let your crew know I had rearranged your passengers’ flight plans with your approval.” He cast an exasperated glance at Jessup. “Now, I have a couple of items my Lord has asked me to pass to you, and I’ll be on my way.”

  I felt sorry for the man, not because he had endured my caprice, as I am sure caprice was something he was used to, but because he’d had to hear Jessup and Angus bitch all morning.

  The secretary removed a small metal bank box from a cloth bag and handed it to me. “My Lord said you would know the combination,” he told me.

  I nodded affirmatively. “Please send my gratitude.”

  “Ah, Miss Stargazer, nothing pleases my Lord more than being your sponsor,” the secretary replied.

  Jessup and Angus exchanged glances. Jessup’s anger seemed to leave him at once, and his eyes shone excitedly. He grinned from ear to ear. Angus nodded knowingly and slid over the rail and onto the Stargazer.

  “He also sent you this package,” he added, handing a large box to me.

  “What is it?”

  “That, I don’t know. Lord Byron passed me the package this morning. Can I be of any further service to you, Miss Stargazer?” Byron’s secretary asked.

  “No. Thank you. Please give Lord Byron my thanks.”

  The secretary nodded politely then made his way down the platform.

  I felt the package with curiosity. I was about to open it when the constable cleared his throat. I had forgotten he was there.

  “Miss Stargazer, my Captain asked me to come see you regarding the harlequin.”

  “I already told your Captain I don’t know anything,” I replied, irritated.

  The constable nodded. “Actually, he wanted to share some information with you. We learned something more about the man. After some research, they discovered that it was your adoption records that were stolen yesterday. The Captain thought you might wish to know; he was concerned for your safety. You’re leaving town? Perhaps that is for the best until this matter clears up.”

  “My adoption papers?”

  “Yes. Where are you headed so I can inform the Captain?”

  “Italy.”

  “Very good. Have a safe trip. Congratulations, by the way, on second place yesterday. Cutter got lucky,” the constable said and left.

  I closed my eyes. Why would someone steal my adoption papers? And why was my head pounding again already?

  I took a deep breath and boarded the Stargazer.

  “All right, Lil, what’s going on?” Jessup asked.

  “We’re off the transport circuit for a bit. We’ll be taking a little trip,” I replied.

  “And where are we going?” Angus asked.

  “Venice.”

  “Venice!” Angus and Jessup both declared at once.

  I laughed. “So we need to get the ship ready. I want to leave by dawn tomorrow. Can we manage it?”

  “Of course we can manage it. We can even leave tonight if you like,” Angus said.

  I shook my head. “That’s okay. We’ll go in the morning.”

  “Why Venice?” Jessup asked.

  I pulled Angus and Jessup into a huddle and told them about the harlequin’s kaleidoscope.

  “Are you sure you want to get mixed up in this? There might be a mess waiting in Venice,” Angus warned.

  “I won’t let it become a problem. And if it does, then to hell with it. Let’s just consider this a little break. I think we all deserve one, don’t you?”

  Angus inhaled deeply and looked at his hands. His eyebrows arched as he mulled it over.

  “I’m happy to oblige Byron and his coin, but Venice?” Jessup said. “You don’t even speak Italian. How are you going to—”

  “I have that covered.”

  “Covered?”

  I nodded.

  “Oh bloody hell. No,” Angus said and looked at Jessup.

  “She wouldn’t.”

  Knowing what was coming, I looked away from them.

  “No. No, Lily. You didn’t,” Jessup said.

  I didn’t look at him.

  “Ahh, Christ, she did,” Angus grumbled.

  “Lily! The Italian? You know we hate that guy,” Jessup said.

  “He’ll be giving us advice across the Channel and back,” Angus said.

  “My friend, why don’t you use silk line rather than twine rope,” Jessup said in a mock Italian accent.

  “Grease it a bit more, Scotsman. If you set it counterclockwise it will get better pull,” Angus jibbed.

  “Come on, gents, he’s not that bad,” I told them with a grin. I had fully expected it. Not only was I late, but I knew they wouldn’t be happy to hear Sal and his useful advice were coming. Angus and Jessup were masters at what they did; people came to them for advice, not the other way around. They just didn’t understand Sal the way I did.

  “Not only that, but we’ll have to listen to Sal fucking you the whol
e way,” Angus added.

  “Lord Byron isn’t bad, Lily, but Sal—” Jessup said.

  “Mind your own business and get the ship ready,” I said with a laugh and sent them on their way.

  Once they had gone, I sat with my back along the bulwark of the Stargazer and opened the package Byron had sent. The brown paper wrapping on the package crinkled under my fingers. I pulled open the lid of the large box. Inside was a light yellow satin and chiffon gown. It had a scooped neckline with lace trim and puffy sleeves. A pair of dainty white leather shoes with rosettes had been stuffed into the bottom of the box. I also found a small ladies’ top hat. Inside was a note: “No one doubted on the whole, that she was what her dress bespoke, a damsel fair, and fresh, and beautiful exceedingly. Wear a gown or the Venetian women will hate you. George.” I stroked the soft chiffon and whispered a prayer of thanks. What fortune I’d won to have Byron in my life.

  I leaned over the rail and looked down to where the harlequin had fallen. Why had he stolen my adoption records? And why had such a young man killed himself? And why had he passed the kaleidoscope to me? Moreover, what was its significance? I could only hope my trip to Venice would bring some answers.

  Chapter Six

  When I returned to my flat to prepare for the trip, I found the place in shambles. Everything had been tossed around; my clothing had been heaved out of drawers, the kitchen cupboards, still embarrassingly bare, were flung open, and my tool box had been torn apart, the tools strewn everywhere. They had even cut open my mattress. They had not taken anything, not even the trophy. They were looking for the kaleidoscope. Clearly, someone had not believed the lies I had told. For a moment, I envisioned Father “Arthur” Magill ripping my flat apart, a desperate expression on his face.

  As I stood in the middle of the mess, I felt violated. Someone had made themselves privy to my private world. One of my opium pipes lay on the floor, the small supply of dried opium sprinkled on the old carpet. I tried to tidy up. I picked up my clothing to put it back in the wardrobe, but the thought of unknown hands on my clothes made me feel sick to my stomach. Maybe Angus was right. Maybe I had no business in this mess, but a man had died to pass the kaleidoscope to me. People only sacrifice their lives for a few reasons: love, religion, or money. Unless I went to Venice, I would never know why he had died. I threw the clothes into a heap in the corner, collected just a few of my belongings, and headed out. I bolted the flat shut and went to spend the night on the Stargazer. There, with the tower guards on patrol, I would be safe.