Den of Shadows

by Christopher Byford

  ‘Shocking. Is it valuable?’ Katerina enquired.

  ‘It’ll outfit you girls with pretty dresses three times over.’

  ‘Really? How many would you say you’ve, uh, acquired in your time?’

  ‘I’m not sure. Over twenty artefacts maybe, if I had to guess.’

  Katerina’s mouth moved as she made a conservative estimate of the total. Her eyes widened. ‘Wow. With all that, you could,’ the showgirl barked in excitement, ‘you could buy this train!’

  ‘Suppose so. It’s all going to be sold off soon. Buyers can be tricky to come across but we’re in luck here. Windberg has a decent market for such things, surprising given how hard the law is coming down. It’s always best to flog the lot as you never know when the next opportunity may arise. Case in point: we have a sheriff sniffing around like a dog in heat.’

  ‘And the money? That’s a considerable amount.’

  ‘Goes in the bank where I can’t misplace it.’

  ‘Any plans with it?’

  ‘I have debts to pay, especially to your boss,’ Wyld reflected. ‘As for the rest, I’m sure I’ll be able to find a use for it one day.’

  ‘But why the Holy Sorceress fixation?’

  ‘Why what?’ Wyld’s brow arched.

  Katerina pressed her lips together, concluding a common theme in what had been acquired. ‘All museum pieces from what I heard. Sorry, but the news on the wire gives it away. I read the papers too. Every place we’ve been, you hit the same sort of joint. Everything you go for is religious. Do you only steal those sorts of things? Is that your niche?’

  It was a fact. Every single item was an effigy, no matter the medium or size, and they all depicted the same subject. Every trinket, every piece was a relic, something that Wyld knew full well. She had just never expected to be quizzed as to why. It wasn’t coincidence, despite being passed off as one, but to elaborate on the reasoning would be just asking more questions, the likes of which would be nauseating to converse about.

  ‘They’re just more valuable,’ Wyld dismissed with a half-truth. ‘Age is indicative of worth.’

  ‘Not if my father is anything to go by.’

  They both sniggered in unison.

  With her bottle now empty, Katerina coaxed a refill from Wyld’s, sniffing the rum before letting its warmth slide down her throat.

  ‘You live an uncertain life – not that there’s anything wrong with such a thing. It sounds pretty charmed by all accounts though personally I would struggle with the regular illegality.’

  ‘A sense of normality wouldn’t go amiss admittedly. A life like this lacks security. I’m living every day back to back without real guidance. The wind blows me in the direction that I guess to be correct. Half the time I just need answers.’

  ‘What to?’

  ‘Plenty of things.’ Wyld callously took a mouthful.

  ‘What if you could get those answers? What then?’

  The bottle slowly popped from her lips and she tilted her head in curiosity. ‘I don’t follow.’

  Katerina waited on her words for a moment, giving consideration as to how to structure them appropriately. She moved a hand to the lacy folds of her dress, reaching into a pocket and wrapping her fingers around the shape inside.

  ‘There is a prerequisite to being hired for the Gambler’s Den. We’re required to perform, showcase our talent as it were. We’re not just pretty faces despite what the punters may believe. Everyone has their niche. For example, Misu breathes fire –’

  ‘In every sense of the word from what I’ve established.’

  ‘Corinne parades the art of ventriloquism.’

  ‘What might that be?’

  ‘Tossing one’s voice in different directions. Yours truly has a couple of talents but one of the more peculiar ones is this.’

  Katerina removed a box of cards from her person, playing cards at first glance, until the adorning artwork revealed their true nature. Its simple cardboard sleeve was draped with arcane impressions of the night’s sky, cluttered despite being tasteful. These were for anything but play.

  ‘Fortune-telling? Where did you learn that?’

  The cards were removed from their housing and sliced repeatedly in cuts as she divulged the answer. ‘My dear old mother. Sit down, she would say, and she’d teach me under the oil lamp. To my understanding it was a family tradition, one she was keen to keep alive. All things come and go in a lifetime, but curiosity about one’s future never wanes. That’s what she used to tell me. Money and fame can be found in such a thing, if both were your fancy.’

  ‘It’s an old practice …’ Wyld drew at her chin in concern.

  ‘You sound sceptical. Tell me you’re not one of those who calls it blasphemous.’

  ‘Not at all. I knew a street vendor who did told fortunes on the side to earn bread money. Though I’m unsure as to this format you’re using. They were all chicken bones and crystal balls. I put it down to his settler blood.’

  The cards were placed down on the carriage floor and fanned out with a wave of the hand. With another they slinked back together just as quickly. Apt hands worked their magic to create a spectacle of the cards being presented yet this was just for show with the design to easily impress.

  ‘What you encountered was a charlatan. Those displays are just for roping in passers-by. This, on the other hand, is an art handed down from time immemorial.’

  Wyld scoffed and though she meant no offence she had deeply rooted opinions on the matter. ‘Cards?’

  ‘I could give you their long, proper name but yes, for want of a better term, these are cards.’

  Wyld leant over her hammock, ensuring that she didn’t move her weight to send her falling out, a feat easier said than done considering how much she had drunk.

  ‘What’s this imagery? All I see are stars.’

  ‘Close,’ came the reply. ‘They’re constellations. See, these cards in this part of the deck contain the constellations we can see in the night sky. It’s a widely held belief that they tell a story as a whole, but separately, the order in which they appear can be indicative of an individual’s life.’

  Wyld flexed a finger to a point. ‘Why has this one got the moon in it?’

  ‘Those with the moon are part of the major set. Those cards are, for want of a better word, a little more noteworthy. By the formation of the cards and what we present, we can build up a picture. Get some of those answers.’

  Wyld took a sip of courage. ‘Okay then, you’ve convinced me. I’m game. Even false hope is better than no hope at all.’

  ‘If you would please cut the deck and hand me three.’

  Wyld obliged, passing them over face down. Katerina drew a handful more, placing them in various spaces between them, some overlapping one another, forming a distinctive cross pattern. As the first card revealed its secret design upon flipping, the opening revelation was uncomfortably precise.

  ‘You’re looking for someone.’

  Wyld wrinkled her nose. ‘What if I said I wasn’t?’ she tested. There was still a chance all this was going to be a deception – no matter how pleasant the company.

  ‘Then I have to say I don’t believe you.’

  ‘And if I insisted?’

  ‘I would ask why you were lying to me.’

  ‘Then you may be correct. Maybe there is someone,’ she finally confessed.

  ‘Elaborate. Tell me about them.’

  ‘Isn’t that your job while we do this?’

  Katarina chuckled. ‘That’s a common misconception for a reading of this kind. It just helps, is all. I’m not trying to prompt you to give me information if that’s what you are suspicious of. It greases the wheels. Makes it all go smoother. Any qualities that I can envision of this mysterious person?’

  ‘Opening up isn’t something I do well. I’m not drunk enough for this.’

  ‘That makes two of us.’ Katerina reached over and filled her gl
ass once more, taking in its scent. ‘So it’s clearly a man. That’s painfully obvious given your reaction.’

  Wyld leaned back, taking a bigger mouthful. She nodded. ‘Complicated. Handsome.’ She paused. ‘Lips of an Angel.’

  ‘Handsome is good enough for me.’ Katerina smiled. ‘Good enough for plenty of women out here.’ She took another swig from her drink, coaxing another refill with a shake of the glass. As Wyld leant forward and poured, Katerina’s face fell somewhat. She analysed the collection of cards in their particular order. On one, a crested moon straddled the sky above five stars – the furthest one to the left much brighter than the others.

  ‘You’re looking for this man. You’re not searching for him in the conventional sense though; that’s the curiosity. There’s more to it than that. You’re tracking him like one tracks a wild beast. It’s what brought you here, to us.’

  Wyld reflected on the accuracy of this accusation. She shadowed his footsteps in whatever hole he passed through; offered bartender and stallholder coin in exchange for insight. Scraps of information were procured from those who claimed sightings – some greatly embellished for personal gain. After all, his presence set many tongues wagging. Someone hauling around a reputation as large as his made it almost impossible to remain incognito.

  Maybe she had resorted to tracking him much like a hunter would stalk their quarry. So what? Maybe there was no other way. She began scratching at the bottle label with her fingernails, peeling it from a corner until enticing a rip.

  ‘You lived together, years back. The bond was close, very close in fact. You trusted him. There was a time when you relied on one another to survive. Together the world wasn’t so harsh. You were a compass to one another, pointing to personal serenity.’

  Katerina spread two cards apart, calculating their meaning. Her voice lowered a shade. ‘You loved him.’

  Wyld blinked momentarily as the words cut through her.

  ‘But, I’m sorry to say, he loved you as one would have loved their sibling. That is a shame. But it is still love and that is a blessing in itself. It is still a bond.’

  Wyld tried not consider this as an insult. Despite wrestling with her own conscience for months now, she still came to the same conclusion that Katerina had voiced. Was she not attentive enough? Had she not tried to ease his restless mind when he spoke of troubles and burdens of duty?

  Had she not provided him with enough reasons to stay?

  ‘You’re angry at him too.’

  ‘You need the cards to see that?’ Wyld tossed down a mouthful, hissing through her teeth to relieve the liquor’s sting.

  ‘Of course not, but what you harbour is not rage. It would be quite easy to confuse it as such given the nature of this situation. It’s the pursuit of answers. A desperation I suppose it could be called.’

  ‘Is there anything in all this that at least gives me direction?’

  The crossed arrangement of cards slowly revealed themselves with every question.

  ‘You’re on the right track according to this. He was venturing north, far north in fact, very much alone and with regret. Leaving you wasn’t a decision taken lightly.’

  Another flick of the wrist. Another three cards turned over to reveal themselves.

  ‘You’re missed. Very much so. Despite what you may think, your time together was something that fulfilled you both. It’s rare that two people stumble upon one another and find what they need. Compassion. Direction. Things that make us whole.’

  ‘Will I find him?’ Wyld’s hand trembled around her drink as she tried to steady her voice. ‘Is all this for nothing?’

  Cards turned and sighs were offered. Wyld dissected each facet of the cards as she saw them in the hope of gaining hint as to their meaning.

  Katerina delivered a slew of disappointment. ‘If I tell you that you will, it’ll incite you not to drive yourself onward as hard as you have done up until now. If I tell you that you won’t, you’ll be inclined to give up. So on that front, I cannot say.’

  ‘Can’t or won’t?’ Wyld wrinkled her nose, finding her temper to be shortening. It would be cruel to yank away this hope now, even if it was false.

  ‘Pick one. But know that what I’m saying is for the best and not to be difficult. A line has to be drawn somewhere and I’m afraid it has been decided that this is yours.’

  Katerina took the last card between her fingers, spinning it around for Wyld to see. A new moon surrounded by seven stars with three sporting grand depictions in yellow. It meant nothing to the observer though was impressed with its ominousness.

  ‘What’s that one?’

  ‘The Mithany, more commonly known as The Flower. This card and ones like it mean the end to what we discuss. Past this point things are unsettled, but it also infers something else. This card right here offers hope. Maybe hope for the future in general. Maybe hope in your endeavours that you will catch this man. Hope, maybe, that you will be at peace with your past.’

  It was offered over and claimed by Wyld who examined its face.

  ‘You can keep that.’

  ‘Won’t it mess up your deck?’

  Scooping the cards back together and sliding the pack into its decorated sleeve, Katarina scoffed. ‘No. I’ve got like a hundred of them. Makes things personal for the reader. People love that little touch of a souvenir.’

  Letting the atmosphere defuse, Katerina allowed Wyld to wipe her eyes and process what had been said. The glass was refilled but this time only to its equator. The bottle finally had run dry.

  ‘How was that? Are you okay?’ Katerina enquired, watching Wyld delicately nurse her spent bottle.

  ‘Accurate. Scarily so. You’re very good.’ Wyld was rattled.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to … you know. This.’

  ‘He was a bastard to leave me,’ Wyld confessed, blowing out air. It had been the first time she had spoken with anyone about all of this and frankly it had been a relief to share. ‘But bastard or no, I’ll find him. And I’ll get him to explain why he did so.’

  Katerina cheered boisterously and a little too loudly. ‘Now that I will happily drink to. To fleeing men!’ She struck the bottle with her wine glass in a toast. ‘Doesn’t sound like any man I’ve ever known. All mine have been focused on settling down, fathering many babies. Nobody wants an adventure nowadays. The world is too dangerous they say. It’s a trial to keep safe, to keep ends met. Why anyone would want to complicate that by wandering is hard to understand.’ Katerina raised her glass. ‘But I get it. And it’s not beyond you. I hope you find him soon. May your journey reach a fortunate conclusion, Miss Wyld.’

  And in thanks, Wyld toasted back with her empty vessel.

  * * *

  Windberg’s evenings were opposite to its days. Streets remained mostly empty as the effects of toil were sedated with drink and revelry performed behind closed doors. Even the docks that were usually a frantic stream of wholesale traders and cargo pullers were deserted, waiting for the chaos to begin all over again at the dawn of the morning sun.

  Of all the districts, it was unsurprising that Redside – with more taverns and inns than people at points – was more active. Situated a good fifteen-minute walk downhill from Windberg Central Station, business was always good from the constant turnover of travellers passing through, so meeting someone here would raise no suspicion.

  Or, at least, that’s what Misu hoped.

  For the unawares, the hangouts were all the same. The district was dilapidated in parts, well kept and spacious in others, a patchwork of enterprises no less. If you were informed enough on the city’s criminality, those who wished to remain hidden, or protected, could be found.

  Misu wasn’t oblivious to her followers during the daylight. A woman in her profession was familiar with some of the more unwanted attention garnered over her service, so when her travel through the markets during her day-to-day routine was observed, Misu always ensured she was never alo
ne. She had company and, at some times, welcome protection in the form of Jacques.

  But this time, just for tonight, she lacked any such luxuries. She headed to places she’d sworn never to return to. Ghostly footsteps from long ago caused a shudder to run down her spine.

  And there, in the gloom, she found what – or more accurately whom – she was looking for.

  * * *

  Flenn counted his blessings. For him, it was by pure chance that they saw one another, especially after their blunt conversation during the show. It was their visit that haunted the woman, perfectly, he believed, as per his instructions. Luckily for Flenn, Donovan accompanied him, cold and just as pleased, congregating in the alleyway between The Sand and Track – for reasons known only to themselves. With rapt attention, each watched her approach. She stayed away from the street gaslight and was dulled by the moonlight, bathed in shadows.

  ‘I’m not a believer in fate and the like,’ Flenn announced with arms outstretched. ‘But I’ll say that our encounter must be one of chance. Would you not agree, Mister Donovan?’

  ‘That it must,’ Donovan acknowledged, sauntering before Misu and inhaling her scent. ‘Opportune indeed.’

  ‘I’m not blind. I know you’ve been watching me and I’m telling you to stop,’ she stated, firm in tone, though with a fissure to her voice.

  Their response was a chuckle between them, sharing unspoken amusement at such brashness.

  ‘I’m also here to tell you,’ Misu tried to demand, ‘that I won’t do this any more. Tell Wilheim that the deal is off and he’s never to come near me again. Or you. It’s that simple; we’re done.’

  ‘Oh, done are we?’ Flenn loudly spat between then. ‘And you can make this decision, can you? This is your final word on the subject? I could tell him, but I know what he would say.’

  ‘He wouldn’t like it in the slightest,’ Donovan added.

  ‘Not a bit, I would think,’ he agreed. ‘It wouldn’t be sensible to tell him such a thing.’

  ‘Do you know what he would want?’