The Songbird had been under the impression that the Morning Star was an upmarket affair, straight-laced and legitimate. It was the presiding factor when she joined in the first place. She gazed at the earmarked photographs pinned above her pillow: a herd of bald red buffalo jostling for attention near a fence, a view from a hilltop looking over the ocean.
Life was simpler back on the farm, or it was until the bailiffs began to put the pressure on her parents. The debts they specified were nothing more than bullish tactics by their landlord to force them surrender the property that they had built up over decades. Because it was desirable and more importantly profitable, the landlord had sent his goons to terrorize them in any way possible. Crops were burnt. Animals were frequently roaming after paddock fences were mysteriously broken overnight.
When threats were made on their lives, she may have hid from the thugs that broke inside that fateful night but her parents didn’t. When the screams abruptly stopped, crawling out from a cubbyhole, she found them both stretched out on the porch. In her haste Elizabeth insisted that Misu employ her in an effort to get as far away as possible. It was lucky she had a talent to showcase. Without it, Elizabeth didn’t dare to think what could have become of her.
Colette made her way down the hall with a small metal watering can. She doused each of the potted green ferns in the hallway, careful not to over or under water the subjects. Dry leaves were daintily picked off and their overall health inspected. This was all done with a whistling tune that bobbed and rose in tone along with her observations.
Elizabeth called her name as she passed the doorway.
‘Who is this woman we’ve picked up?’ she asked, still chewing at her digits.
‘That? That’s Wyld.’
‘There’s something about her I don’t like. The way she talks – it’s as if she’s …’
‘A criminal?’ Colette interjected, quite comfortable with the revelation. ‘I suppose she’s one of sorts, yes. Wyld tagged along with us in days gone by. From what I was told she was something of a thief who Franco took a shine to. I wasn’t here long when it all happened.’
‘We have on board someone painfully dangerous and everyone acts like it’s the norm. No question. No up in arms.’
‘It’s not our place to be outraged. The boss has a plan and her word is law. It’s the way things go. We are each blessed to be aboard. Why does it bother you so much?’
‘I have a problem with those who deem themselves above the law!’ Elizabeth scowled, the loss of her family still raw. ‘I’ve seen the results of those who take what they want, hell I’ve lived it! And the more I ride with you all, the more I’m convinced Misu is tuning everybody on board into criminals!’
Colette gave a loose shrug. ‘We all pay for our passage one way or another.’
‘Did you?’ she asked.
Abruptly, Colette turned on the spot and shimmied down the strap of her top. Where the material once covered and upon her otherwise flawless skin was the pitted recess of discoloured flesh, a scar from a wound long since healed.
‘I caught a bullet defending the Gambler’s Den. I wasn’t the only one neither. I knew full well what I was getting into. I was at peace with the possibility that when I picked up a gun to defend my family on board, it may be the last breath I ever took. If that makes me an outlaw or something in your eyes then so be it.’ Colette resettled her clothing and tightened the strap. ‘Out here things are not so black and white. What you consider bad goes hand in hand with our survival. We walk a line that’s a shade of grey – big deal. You’re the only one fretting about it. So while you’re questioning things at every turn, annoying those around you who have paid their way, stop and ask yourself: when are you going to pay yours?’
Colette went back to her business of watering the plants, leaving Elizabeth to reflect on what had been said.
Chapter 18
Who took you in?
The Morning Star trundled its way back to Esquelle, all the while chasing the setting sun back to the station. The oil lamps within the carriages were lit, banishing the black in a comforting glow. The showgirls went about their own business congregating for drinks, or exchanging stories.
Colette spent time practising her show routine, which she confessed needed a little more improvement. Her mentalism, where she could seemingly engage in mind reading with audience members was functional and only once did she stumble when her suggestions ended up inadvertently causing a drunk patron to decide her to be in league with evil spirits. She read through her books – teaching material really – while Elizabeth silently kept herself to herself in a chair in the corner.
Wyld was invited into Misu’s carriage, or Franco’s more specifically though she was spending more and more time in it. The door locked behind for nothing untoward but caution. Wyld took a tour around the room’s circumference, paying special attention to the rarer trinkets on display, mentally calculating the prices they could get.
Situated on a wall hook was an animal mask, that of a stag, a brilliant black with silver circular trails climbing around the mask’s edges. The outstretching symmetrical antlers were a bright and stunning silver, giving the illusion that they were made completely of solid metal. She stopped at the line of wooden masks, focusing on one harbouring splashes of yellows and reds upon its whitewashed surface, a bevy of fiery gradient feathers attached as a headdress.
‘See anything you like?’ Misu asked, placing a couple of items from dresser to drawer in an attempt to tidy up. A handful of empty liquor bottles still stank of stale drink, quite telling of her nightly routine. She embraced a steaming cup of rich, black coffee, something offered but declined by her guest.
‘Plenty. I’m surprised some of this is even in your possession considering the distance it would have travelled. It takes a significant amount to impress me but here we are.’
Misu leant on the dresser, turning her head aside after catching a glimpse of herself in the opposite window.
‘Not my things, sadly. This is all Franco’s collection. When we took possession of the Morning Star, he insisted we travelled for a couple of months. He said it was to break the train in. I just think he wanted to indulge the bug for treasures that you instilled in him. He gathered up every scrap he could find of this stuff.’
‘That couldn’t possibly be my fault. He’s his own man. You of all people know that his mind couldn’t be swayed from whatever he cooked up.’
‘That’s a fact.’
‘There’s ample amounts of money to be made if you were looking to get rid of it all. I know that’s tasteless. I mean no disrespect but should financial troubles manifest, do consider me. You know I wouldn’t undercut you.’ Wyld tried her best to not sound insincere.
Misu glanced around the room as if what she wanted to say was nestled in its corners.
‘Are we done with the small talk yet?’ Wyld asked. She went to sit on the bed but found it distasteful, instead parking herself on a lounger pressed up against the carriage side. Its seats were firm and the frame was carved from some wonderful rich wood that glittered in its seams, a well-made piece worth a substantial amount.
* * *
The lounger Wyld sat on was one of Franco’s favourite items – not that Wyld knew it. Misu knew it. Misu daren’t sit on it herself and found Wyld’s doing so just as vulgar as the unmade bed. She upturned her nose but withheld an outburst, getting to the matter in hand.
‘We pulled in to some piss-ant town, the last stop just before a show. The Star needed water and the girls and I needed to stretch our legs. The last few shows were monumental affairs, big cities, rowdy locals, that sort of thing. Franco was working himself far too hard and got sick, so I had been pestering him to take a break with the next show. Hah, I practically begged.’
She took a sip of the coffee, amused at the absurdity. ‘Imagine my surprise when he agrees. I mean he believes it’s a good idea. We go through the girl’s routines, timings, lighting cues, everything I knew alre
ady but entertained for the sake of it. The show comes and Franco spends his time in this here car. He insisted on dressing himself up in his performance gear, just in case he’s needed, he says. Everything goes smoothly, perfectly, even. After the show I knock on his door and I find it swings open. The place is just how I left it sans him. Franco’s nowhere to be found. This, on the other hand, is.’
Misu swiped a length of folded paper from the dresser and passed it over. Wyld cautiously scanned the contents. When done it was limply handed back. She was clearly disturbed at the repeated name within it.
‘Wilheim?’ Wyld asked for confirmation in disbelief.
‘Yes.’
‘Wilheim Fort.’
Misu repeated herself: ‘Yes.’
‘The same Wilheim Fort who very almost got the lot of us killed? Who I pointed a gun at and liberated you from?’
‘The same.’
‘You’re utterly insane, you know that?’
‘That too,’ Misu murmured, the flash of her face all too apparent in the surface of her drink.
‘He’s blackmailing us to haul his cargo for him. The route is pre-planned and the contacts already waiting. All we have to do is turn up and make the drops. If we deviate from the plan, Franco gets sent back in pieces.’
‘You,’ Wyld corrected, her eyebrows brought closer together.
‘Excuse me?’
‘Wilheim’s blackmailing you, you said us. I doubt you even consulted with those beneath before you decided to implicate them in this mess, am I right?’
Misu closed her eyes momentarily.
‘As I thought.’ Wyld continued, ‘How many are going along with all this?’
‘Most. A few are … uncomfortable with the circumstances. I’ve told them they can get off at whatever stop beforehand if they so wish.’
‘But they won’t. That’s the problem with family. Even when they drag you into a debacle such as this, they’ll stand by you.’
Misu nodded slowly with guilt.
‘This may be a surprise but I’m something of an expert at chasing someone around the Sand Sea. How many drops do you have to go?’
Misu hoisted herself up and unlocked the dresser door with a key. It swung open revealing the map of Surenth, compete with scribbles and calculations. Wyld rose and took it in, tracing her finger over the pencilled zigzag route.
‘Six.’
‘Where’s the last? Here?’ She prodded past the desert, up through the bottlenecking mountain range and out into the upper lands.
Misu nodded, confirming its name: ‘Eifera.’
Wyld whistled slowly. ‘You’re going that far north? When do you have to be there?’
‘Eleven days.’
‘You’re not going to make it. I’m telling you now. That’s far too close to do, even if you pulled out after every show, there’s still resupplies to think of. Even if you somehow pulled this miracle off, what then? Will Wilheim just let him go and things will be forever peachy?’
Misu retreated into herself, attempting to dissect reason from her actions. Wyld was correct. This was a monumental mess. They had been sent on a foolish errand and Misu wasn’t blind to this fact, quite the contrary. She had known from the beginning but what choice was there?
‘Look,’ Wyld attempted to sympathize, ‘I get that he’s out there and that this thing you’re doing is very noble … but we both know how savage Wilheim is. Do you honestly think you can get all this delivered before your time is up?’
‘Of course not. I’m not stupid; I know what it is to have the odds against you. Like I said though, I don’t have an alternative.’
‘So what has all this been?’
Misu replied honesty, leaving the drink on the surface and placing herself heavily on the bed’s edge. Her buttocks fell into the satin, which almost swallowed them whole.
‘Buying time,’ she confessed. ‘I figured I could come up with a plan on the way.’
‘And how did that go?’
‘I’m planless.’
‘So you’ll just wait for time to run out? Shrug and say that you did your best when he’s returned in a box? That’s going to go down well.’
‘I don’t know, okay? I don’t know. Everything is just …’ Misu blurted in frustration, before stopping herself. A thunderbolt of a thought interrupted things. ‘Wait, how did you know? You said back in the yard that you knew what we were hauling. How?’
‘I have a couple of contacts who are involved in this sort of thing.’
‘What sort of thing?’
‘Wilheim’s dealings. I mean he’s underground but he still has considerable reach in these parts. Men like that don’t just give up what they’ve been doing for a lifetime. The money is too good and the power far too seductive.’
‘How involved are they?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, would any of your contacts be close enough to Wilheim now to be privy to where he’s hiding out these days? Would one of them be in a position to talk?’ Misu expectantly watched with wide eyes, attempting not to be overtaken with excitement.
‘Talk willingly? Never. I couldn’t say for a certainty that they would know exactly where he tucked himself away.’ Wyld cracked a devilish smile, amused at such a roguish suggestion. ‘But I love the way you’re thinking. I think I know a guy who can help us.’
* * *
With a pained grunt, the Morning Star aligned itself with the station platform. Umbra and Wyld said their goodbyes to the women who hung from the windows, waving excitedly. Katerina was the only one who stepped off with them, giving a warm hug to the woman. When they withdrew, Umbra went on ahead with his luggage of tools, leaving Wyld on the platform with Misu saying her final words. Birds that congregated on the rooftops sang their dusk chorus to one another, watching the pair awkwardly pick at scraps of conversation.
But as Wyld turned to leave, she was restrained by Misu’s hand around her wrist.
‘Come with us. We need all the help we can get and you’re handy with a gun. I’ve seen as much. You can even bring your man along. If he’s as good as you say he is, then you’ll both be decently reimbursed.’
Wyld snatched her hand away, hardening at the accusation.
‘It’s not about money, Misu, don’t even … You see, this is why people don’t trust you! You swing like a pendulum and people don’t know where they stand. One minute we’re talking like civilized people and then you’re throwing that at me? I don’t care about the money when lives are at stake – these women who are under your care, who trust you! If you spoke honestly, if you trusted these people you ride with, you may just be surprised. They’re supposed to be family, right? Treat them as such.’
‘Its hard.’ She swallowed, stopping short at telling her just how difficult trusting others was. After all she had done and what had been done to her, it wasn’t something so easily accepted or given. She withdrew her hand from the space between them.
‘I know. You’ve got the name of my contact. Don’t go easy on him. I wish you luck.’
Misu called, ‘You’re right. It’s out of control, this whole thing is on a knife edge and I can’t do it alone. I can’t! It’s a big fat mess and it’s dangerous and I have no idea which way it’s going to go. But I need someone who I can trust.’
‘Trust?’ Wyld turned with a fiery glare. ‘Was I trusted when I rode with you? No. I was treated like an outcast. Nobody spoke to me, nobody wanted to be around me, I was practically lynched when Franco was arrested. The latter being your cause if you remember. Trust. Seriously. Hell, where do you think Franco even got the money for this train? Think on that for a moment. I’ve paid my dues.’
‘He took you on. He accepted you and so did I! I never suggested throwing you off. I wanted to hear your excuses and see what brought you to us. I’m not saying you owe us, Franco, or whoever … I’m doing this with or without you. I’m doing it alone if I need to, suicide or not. That’s a given. But with you … I know that I’ll have
a better chance of pulling this off. You can help me save him and that’s the only thing that truly matters.’
Misu felt tears begin to uncontrollably spill down her face. She shook with every word, baring everything in desperation.
‘I’m an evil person, Wyld. I have done despicable things, things that I will never be exonerated for. I caused the destruction of the Gambler’s Den. I’ve stabbed every single person who I called friend in the back. I’ve schemed and planned black things to either further my ambitions or to gravitate me from harm. I did all this willingly, resolute and with no misgivings. There’s no redemption for people like me. I’m at peace with that, but just this once I want to do something that’s right. So when I’m judged at the end of all things I can say without needing to lie: I’m not all bad.’
Misu finally exploded into a bawl. Years of secret keeping and scheming erupted to the surface, unrestrained and violent.
* * *
Wyld froze, her lips open a slit. She had never heard Misu speak so candidly. She was stripped of her authority, baring herself in this half-lit station. The woman was painfully desperate. She slowly wrapped her arms around her in an embrace, holding her tightly. Misu cried and cried and cried, gripping on to Wyld and soaking her jacket with guilt and grief. Finally after no short amount of time the tears were stopped and a decision made.
The birds had fallen silent and neither of them had noticed.
* * *
Back at the Deadbolt Gunworks, as was routine, Umbra was lost in the study – a pokey excuse for the word – with piles of books that took up significant floor space. The most relevant were scattered upon a simple table, opened at various positions detailing incomprehensible lengths of old text and confusing diagrams that made no sense. An oil lamp with a green shade kept Umbra’s pursuit illuminated as he hunched over the tomes feverishly flicking between pages. Somewhere deep in the pages of a language most had forgotten, let alone could read, was a solution. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would find his personal salvation; but given the crimes he had committed that seemed quite a stretch.
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