‘Very much so.’
She drew once more, slower now, calming her racing mind, and smiled for the company. ‘Then you had best keep her behind a locked door else I’ll spell her away for employment.’
A ripple of nasally laughter made its way through the room. It did nothing to put the woman at ease. The sociable mask remained, hiding a bevy of responses that Misu could quite happily administer. All that mattered was the image: the firm smile, the confident stroll, all the things that convinced present company that she belonged. These people were a product of their own endeavours. Sure, there was a degree of respect that these men commanded – officials, heads of industry and the like – but Misu knew of the dangers that were associated with this mingling. Words would be said, some polite, some not. Suggestions could be veiled threats.
Misu knew, painfully well, that wolves hid in the company of decent men. Sometimes they acted alone. Other times, they congregated in packs.
As much as they had each observed her, Misu had assessed the men themselves. Which showed the signs, the body language that gave away their true intentions?
Misu lowered her smoke once more and breathed out the nerves from her chest. The mask remained upon her, very much secure.
‘How long have you been running?’ someone else asked, a stocky man, presumably in his forties judging by the lines on his face and the thickness of his curled hair tied into a ponytail, coupled with a salt and pepper beard.
Misu had noticed Evans patiently observing her before he pitched his question, giving her no doubt: he was the owner of the Riverjack House and much more besides. His chair was close to the others, though had enough distance to reflect a position of importance. The seating was of perfect distance between fireplace and bar, angled to a view of the décor and positioned with utmost precision. He seemed genuine enough but a wolf took time to bare its fangs to prey.
‘Long enough to know better. Not enough to realize we should charge more for what we do.’ Her eyes travelled skyways to the flamboyant painted murals that covered the ceiling. A thick tapestry of images depicting, among other things, the Holy Sorceress loomed overhead. It was, of course, impressive, but the design was a straight reproduction from a cathedral in Eifera. The capital of the northern grassland was littered with this sort of style, though the brushwork was more refined. A cheap imitation, Misu concluded. Evans had commissioned the piece clearly to make a statement though made the opposite one than intended. To those who wallowed in such styling, this was a fanfare of money.
To Misu, it was gaudy at best. ‘Looking around here I’m sure purse strings can afford to be relaxed a little more.’ Another series of chuckles. Evans leant back, contentedly.
‘Now, tell me, little one, how does one come to be in your line of work?’ another man enquired, squat and balding with a pitted, bulbous nose.
‘Good fortune mostly. The good fortune of those whom we serve and who enjoy our services, and it’s my good fortune that they seem so happy to gamble so frivolously.’
The man sat back, beaded pupils sheltering behind bagged eyes. He unbecomingly spat every word. ‘Fortune is fickle I have found. It shares a bed with that whore deceit, and the pair sleep until noon.’
Misu stubbed her cigarette down before draining her glass to a quarter full. ‘Then I suggest you invest in better company, sir.’
Stifled guffaws emanated from the bellies of those around her. The company of such a brazen woman was alluring, exciting even to the clique, though it was abruptly halted. From back inside the bar, raised voices began to drown out pompous banter before suddenly swallowing all attention. From the shrill burst of shattering glass, Misu knew exactly what the noise was a prelude to: trouble.
The men muttered in disdain, though were requested to remain seated by the flustered staff. Voices became louder, brash and demanding.
‘In all Her name, what is that commotion?’ Evans set his drink down and called to one of the servers who looked just as perplexed. ‘What goes on out there? Move, boy, bring me word right away!’
The nearest scurried out to check, whilst Evans’s backside remained firmly unmoved. Misu showed no such restraint, and took to her feet and marched out to witness what exactly had brought such discord. Bar brawls were nothing out of the ordinary – they were an unwelcome necessity of her trade – but this sounded far more disturbing.
Stepping out, Misu witnessed a clear division in the bar. A collection of rowdy locals had spilled inside, barring the door, a pair brandishing knives. From a cursory glance, Misu assumed their motives were monetary but soon corrected herself. Each intruder was smartly dressed and neatly shaven, certainly not resembling the vagrants passed on the way here. Equally, there were too few of them to hold the establishment up for money, confirmed by a lack of firearms. They stood on edge, seemingly unsure as to how to progress, as if it was a decision pursued on a whim and had passed the point of no return.
But Misu recognized something abnormal about the men that worried her more than the knives they brandished.
It was the eyes. Twitchy, bugged, each one of them flicked their gaze around seemingly at random. One chomped as if his mouth accommodated chewing tobacco, yet he spit nothing out. There was something unnervingly peculiar about the behaviour. It was like they were overcome with an incredible thirst, as if they were looking to set upon an oasis in the desert. Something wasn’t right by a long shot and she knew exactly what.
Without further warning they all charged forward, crashing into those nearby in carnage. Cries of panic erupted from those who sought shelter, whereas those brash enough tried to repel the discord. The weapons drew innocent blood.
The masked showgirls were scattered near the back wall, attempting to congregate together with Ferry already up and ready for the fight, but clearly even the speed of these individuals amazed him. They moved against the fleeing bodies with abnormal haste, lashing out without care or even focus, as if flailing limbs and torsos were simply targets. People heaved and pushed for their escape out all around but Ferry retained his composure throughout – for the sake of the showgirls.
‘They heard the girls were here!’ he called to Misu, noticing her emerge. ‘The rat-like one in the middle demanded they went back to provide some private entertainment!’
Attempting to corral the showgirls fully behind him, Ferry held his arms out, making himself a sizeable target for anyone stupid enough to try their luck.
‘Back off, you animals, or I’ll break you!’ Ferry roared, swinging at those who dared to skip forward. The rat-like one, brazen enough to challenge this, slipped under the first thrust, only for an iron hand of a punch to collide against his skull and launch him rolling over a tabletop. Glass shattered. Wood splintered under his weight. Another leapt at Ferry with a broken bottle but instead of meeting flesh, he received a sizeable boot to the stomach. The attacker tumbled back from the impact but while he did so, a small paper packet was ejected from his pocket and found itself at Misu’s feet.
She stared at the torn paper wrapping before looking around herself to see if she was being watched. A tangled, dry mass of rust-coloured plant, just a sprig, poked from its housing – contraband that could worryingly be discovered. Secretly, she dug the flat of her boot over it, knelt and scooped it into her pocket, ensuring the evidence would remain hidden.
Chaos had erupted around the party in the form of scrappy brawls. Bodies soon became tangled in the melee. Some scrambled for shelter, sliding under tables or cowering behind shields of pottery or wood. The more spirited launched into the fray, swinging fists wildly.
In the midst of this, Katerina scurried on all fours to join her friends. Elizabeth had already weaved past a nearby couple who flailed their fists wildly, attempting to pull Katerina to them, though she remained out of reach as the scrappers fell back and forth. She skimmed over tipped chairs and stools, her hand slipping in spilt liquor. Hopping to her feet, she dashed to Ferry though instead was yanked away by a grip to her wrist.
Kate
rina yelped, and Elizabeth called out for her by name. Naturally she struggled, dragging her nails down the face of the one who restrained her. He stared back hot-blooded and enraged, as if the wound hadn’t even registered upon his person. In retaliation he drove his fist into the mask, shattering it to pieces. The woman hung limp.
This was more than enough time for Ferry to have advanced forward. With grit, he wrenched the detaining hand away from Katerina’s own and thundered a fist into the culprit’s ribs before tossing him over the bar and into the shelves of bottles behind. They burst in an almighty crescendo, raining down in a shower of glass and alcohol.
As Misu finally joined her entourage, the bar doors crashed open, with over a dozen Bluecoats entering the fray. Their calls for order from the local law went unheeded, so the request was punctuated by the firing of a sidearm. Folks finally backed away from one another, assessing their injuries.
The only exception to this was one of the architects of this mess who sprung forward, only to receive a bullet to the leg. When this failed to stop him, the accompanying limb met the same fate, finally rending the troublemaker immobile.
‘That’s better,’ the captain stated. He holstered his revolver, before arrests were made.
* * *
Misu and the gaggle of showgirls were accompanied through the streets back to the local station. They returned in silence, flanked by law, to where the Morning Star waited patiently for them. What was supposed to be a routine stop had become a farce.
Inside, Elizabeth dabbed down Katerina’s swollen eye with a soaked flannel, administering a concoction consisting mainly of iodine. She whispered in soothing terms as Katerina flinched at every dab, slouched in one of the lounge car seats.
Misu scowled at the guests inside, the local sheriff and Evans. The owner of the Riverjack House remained quite composed given the circumstances. The sheriff babbled his way through an apology, one that was quite ignored by their host.
‘Disaster, an absolute disaster,’ she began in an intense scalding. Evans recoiled at the volume as Misu continued. ‘Do you two have any idea of the impact this will have in our line of work? The takings? Please do let me know how many people wish to gain the attention of someone with a shiner! Show it to me again!’
Katerina craned her head at an angle, letting her manager survey the damage. ‘Outrageous! Simply outrageous that this was allowed to happen!’
Words began to form between Evans and the sheriff, the latter clearly unable to provide the security that he once promised at their arrival. The town was supposedly free of any such disturbances. His lies were discovered at a cost.
‘We have not had trouble of this variety for a long time I assure you. Red Root has been outlawed for nigh on –’
The sheriff was shut down with a raise of Misu’s palm.
‘Don’t even bother. I don’t want to hear a single excuse out of your mouth.’
She began to pace the floor, biting her nails. ‘What of our takings? Am I to assume that we’ll get compensation for this inconvenience? I may well be down a girl for the next few shows!’
Elizabeth froze in her place at Katerina’s feet, and their gazes met. Money. That was all it came down to, once again. Elizabeth’s crystal blue eyes fell between a frown and with the slightest of motions Katerina suggested that such a concern shouldn’t be raised – not now of all times.
Evans squirmed, fumbling into his pocket. ‘Our apologies, this is an isolated incident in our establishment. I’m sure we could provide some recompense for your troubles.’
‘The hell you can, little man! I severely doubt that your kind could compensate the score that we take!’
Evans produced a chequebook and scribbled onto a page with a fine, gold-plated pen. When done, a slip of paper was torn out and offered between them.
‘Maybe that is true, though I hope this contribution helps keep this matter under wraps. And that it doesn’t tarnish your perceptions of the Riverjack House nor its good people for the next time you pass by. It would be regrettable if it affected you all negatively, if you get my understanding.’
Misu took the paper and scanned the line of numbers in impeccable handwriting. Clearly Evans’s guilt played a factor in the offer of compensation. Keeping her poker face, the cheque was pocketed.
‘It’s a start,’ she flatly stated.
* * *
The Morning Star ventured out into the Sand Sea following one of the straighter routes northward.
It would be a few days before they reached the next show destination, which presented a little time for the occupants to relax. Some took to the observation car to make use of its considerable number of windows to sunbathe. Some read from the train’s expansive collection, lost in the pages of literature where life for the characters therein was considerably simpler. Others simply whittled the time away practising their show routines in designated spaces so as to not cause an annoyance for their colleagues.
Elizabeth was resigned to singing in one of the stock cars where the acoustics were more appropriate. Corinne sharpened up her knife throwing where she could do no damage, oddly finding the train’s rocking perfect to practise with. Katerina, on the other hand, left the residence car and passed through each in turn.
Upon reaching the end of the carriages, she took the outer walkway past the tender and into the engine cab, her shoe heels slipping as she was caught by an unpredictable crosswind that caused a staggered step. When sheltered by the engine cab she breathed a quick sigh of relief and announced herself.
‘Knock knock,’ she called.
Ferry stood at the pipes and valves and levers: the complicated guts of the locomotive’s controls being quite alien to any onlooker, but to someone as mechanically minded as he, it was a beauty of construction. It had been built with considerable love, with a driver in mind, without confusingly positioned gauges or the need to reach something with an awkward twist.
‘This is a surprise. Come on in.’
‘Thank you.’
‘How’s the eye?’ Ferry prodded the air with a thick, greased finger.
Katerina brushed her hair back behind one ear, turning the injury away from sight, feeling quite conscious of it. The flesh was still quite swollen.
‘Sore. Hurting. As one would expect.’
‘I’m sorry I didn’t get to prevent that.’ He rested a bear arm across a length of floor levers that had been locked into place. His voice was sincere and guilt-soaked.
‘It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you by any stretch.’
‘I was there,’ he rebutted.
‘Please don’t feel responsible for that. It’s not why I’m here, well, I mean it is and it isn’t.’ Katerina stepped inside, presenting a square parcel wrapped in butcher’s paper in her hands. ‘I wanted to say thank you for intervening when you did. It’s not much but I figured that you might be hungry so I made up this in the kitchen.’
Ferry took the gift into his hands and unwrapped it with curiosity. Inside was a thickly cut beef sandwich complete with salad garnish. He gave a grateful smile. The train’s wheels juddered and the sound of the clickety clacking became significantly more hollow as it began to cross an arched bridge connecting dunes.
‘You’re a kind soul. That’ll do quite nicely, thank you.’
‘It’s no trouble at all.’
He sat in the driver’s seat and tucked in, savouring each bite. Katerina glanced at the controls and to its driver who had alarmingly stepped away from his post.
‘Don’t you need to, I don’t know, steer this thing or something?’ Katerina asked.
‘Don’t have to out here. There’s never any debris on the track. Nobody would be stupid enough to try and board us on a bridge. It’s quite boring actually.’
‘May I?’ She gestured to the cab window.
‘Be my guest.’
The warm desert air was bearable with the breeze caused by the train’s momentum. The clearest blue sky was decorated with cotton puffballs of
cloud, and the brilliance of the high-rising dunes, sometimes a good hundred feet high. Out this way was nothing but the sand. It had its own serene beauty about it, untouched and unclaimed by human hands.
‘Hell of a view,’ Katerina stated.
‘Don’t look down though,’ he warned.
Unable to resist, Katerina glanced straight down at the tracks. Their previous solid construction was now forgone with distinct gaps between the sleepers. Her vision alternated between solid and an abyss, the shadow-drenched sand canyons that the bridges in this region straddled. Her vision was imprinted with the deep gulf beneath the passing slats.
She pulled herself back inside the cab, hair now windswept and given considerable volume.
‘I looked down,’ Katerina said, seating herself heavily on a folding chair.
‘I warned you about that.’ He made it halfway through his food, before waving it back and forth in question. ‘What do you make of Misu’s decisions?’
‘You mean recently or in general?’
‘Probably both; however, the most pressing on my mind is the poor choice not to employ some decent protection for this joint.’
Katerina thought for a moment. It wasn’t particularly sensible, she agreed, but it was equally not her place to question the more important decisions made about the show’s operation.
‘I think her reasoning is that because we’ve looked after ourselves all this time, it’s not strictly needed.’
‘Yeah, but you had some once, right?’
‘Once, yes.’ Katerina shrugged, reminiscing over their once capable head of security. That was, until Jacques became a drunk liability. She wondered what became of him, quickly hoping that harm had not befallen him.
‘So the requirement is obviously there.’
‘I don’t pretend to know what Misu is thinking. I learnt long ago that is a folly.’
‘It’s a shame you can’t do your trick to change her mind.’ Ferry finished the last of his sandwich and gave thanks.
‘Trick?’ Katerina asked.
‘Read the future and whatnot. What you do in the show.’
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