Wyld wrapped her knuckles gently on the already open door, announcing her entrance. It was either ignored or unheard. She considered manoeuvring through the mountains of literature thought it was best to leave them undisturbed. She watched him, the considerable distance between them becoming more and more apparent by the day. He would notice her any minute now, raise his head and give one of those bewitching smiles that struck her when they first met.
Umbra scribbled some notes down with a pencil, turned a page, and continued.
Wyld spoke. ‘I need you to look after the shop for me.’
Umbra withdrew from his current reading material, finally noticing the figure in the doorway. ‘Why? Where are you going?’
‘I’ve got a favour to fulfil. It’s also not the sort of favour you can just ignore neither. I know you appreciate the importance of something of that nature so I won’t ask you to understand. Besides, you’re busy with …’ she paused, waving her hands towards the monumental clutter, recognizing a few as ones she herself had secured for him ‘… all of this. I’ll be back before you know it.’
Umbra scooted his chair back, watching the grim flicker of his lamp sending his shadow dancing across the irregular towers between them. ‘Is this going to be dangerous?’
‘Somewhat.’ She shrugged, placing a hand on the doorframe. It took an eternity for him to say something of substance. Wyld was unable to tell what he was thinking despite attempting to. Previous attempts had proven that it was an impossible task and whatever Umbra decided upon would normally be against the norm. Finally he offered himself, politely, though the gesture was unintentionally hollow.
‘Do you want me to come with you?’
It was immediately dismissed.
‘There’s no need. It’s not your fight. Like I said, you’re preoccupied and you’ve got more than enough to concern you. Just remember to lock up and keep us stocked. I’ll be annoyed if I come back to find us down in takings.’
Of course she wanted him by her side. When he took up arms nothing stood in his way. She had witnessed this first-hand, a furious ballad of destruction to which death followed every twist and turn and flick and pirouette. Umbra was a killer – a simple unavoidable fact – and when others are out to take your life there would be nobody better to enter that danger with. He had done so for money. He had done so for fame and for duty.
But he had never once fought, nor killed, to protect Wyld.
It was always, always, for someone or something else.
‘Are you sure?’ he asked.
‘I’ll be fine, you big lug,’ Wyld lied, her nails shaving the doorframe’s paint to curls. He turned back to his myriad of work, putting the pencil between his teeth, foolishly oblivious to her silent cry.
‘If you insist.’
Chapter 19
Jackdaw
Esquelle’s long-awaited show was vibrant and full of splendour, as was expected from the cavalcade of delights that the Morning Star offered. Elizabeth currently wooed the crowd, seducing all with her set, drowning the train station platforms in dulcet melodies. Captivated, the audience applauded when she bowed, hung on every word spoken and kind comment made.
Inside the train was quite the different story. Misu sat at a large rosewood desk, centring herself at its end to see the full length of the carriage in question. It had been signposted as out of bounds to prevent any wayward revellers from accidentally stumbling inside. The showgirls were, of course, informed to reprimand anybody who may ignore this advice.
Ferry was chosen to stand guard inside should any trouble break out. Wyld insisted on being present being that it was her contact with her reputation at stake with both parties. Colette was tasked as being on hand if pleasantries were needed. Behind her painted smile and skirt folds was a weapon strapped to her hip, she was briefed to be ready to spring into action if needed. This role would have gone to Corinne normally though given recent events a substitute was decided as a better course of action.
Misu checked her watch and then a clock mounted on the wall. The times were identical, much to her disappointment.
‘He’s late.’
‘He’s not late,’ Wyld pointed out, ‘he’s right on time.’
‘He’s ten minutes late.’
‘Because he wants you to wait. He wants you to know who’s in charge. It’s how he does things. He leaves you waiting and you’re on the dangle knowing full well that he calls the shots. It’s how it’s done. Give him the illusion of control. We know the truth.’ Wyld fidgeted at the desk beside Misu, trying not to be infected with her cynicism. ‘Trust me, he’s not late.’
‘That’s something I’m uncomfortable with.’
Wyld rolled her eyes. The mask set upon Misu’s face did little to settle nerves, with its blackness and ornate embellishments giving her an uncomfortably mystical quality. With it on, some could swear that it was a different individual who wore it.
‘Yes and I’m sure that get-up of yours is really going to put him at ease. I suggested against wearing that thing remember?’
‘I know. It was noted,’ Misu flatly stated, ‘and ignored.’
‘You worry too much. Everybody knows somebody around here and that somebody is never particularly nice. Seeing you converse, people won’t bat an eyelid, I assure you of that.’
Five slow knocks rapped on the door. A set of fireworks flashed through the windows. Wyld’s contact made his way inside.
* * *
Jackdaw smiled, quite sincerely but it was indirect, for his eyes wandered around the space, taking in the surroundings. As well as assessing the worth of the carriage from top to bottom, showing particular favour to the gold-plated candelabras that ran its entire length. A well-trimmed goatee was the colour of hay, matched with a parting of equally well-kept hair. Glasses squatted on the ridge of his nose, the lenses reflecting the lights of the interior as his head moved this way and that. He took in the sight of Ferry first who remained motionless. Then Wyld – to whom he nodded – and finally, Misu, dressed in her show finery.
Jackdaw was not alone. With him was a pair of individuals clearly brought for his own safety. One could not be too careful when dealing out this way and there was no such thing as too much security. He had been caught out once before, suckered by a kind word and a promise – a mistake he vowed never to be repeated.
He was smartly dressed – though most hustlers out this way were, parading their style around as if they were the ones who invented it. Unbeknown to them a good-fitting suit and smart shoes never went out of fashion, even in Surenth and Jackdaw’s was a doozy. Granite-speckled trousers were held up with chestnut braces, matching his leather shoes. His jacket was a shade darker than the trousers, encompassing an open-collared black and sandy two-tone shirt.
Jackdaw was well known in these parts, thanks to his association with Wilheim Fort. He was given his nickname for his favour of carrying out jobs under the cover of darkness, as per the pitch-black of the bird that was his namesake – that and a desire to relieve people of their expensive and shiny trinkets. Here tonight, though, he had to make an exception for one of these traits.
‘The Hare. Well now, this is a pleasure.’
* * *
Misu rose and offered a hand out in front of her. She spied the couple who flanked the door behind. One was gruff and tall, seeing a good many years, his hair of salt and pepper. One of his eyes was behind a black patch, the trace of a scar indicating the cause of his robbed eyesight. The other was a woman, darker-skinned, settler-born most likely, patient but keenly on the lookout for the situation changing quickly. Her hands were folded behind her back, but the revolver hanging from her hip offered a reminder that they were there to do business.
‘Please, be seated. Can I offer a drink for you and your entourage?’
Jack thumbed to his cohorts behind. ‘They don’t need a thing; they’re quite happy to stand quietly. I, on the other hand, will take three fingers of brandy. House’s choice.’
&nb
sp; ‘The same,’ Misu requested. One of the showgirls standing in attendance bowed politely and scurried off.
Jack leant on an elbow. He fingered the air up and down in Misu’s direction.
‘What’s with the mask?’ he asked.
‘Theatrics.’
‘Each to their own.’ Jackdaw shrugged nonchalantly. He had no doubt seen much more peculiar traits out here.
Misu assessed the pair at the door, wondering how efficient they were in their work. The man, despite his greying hair, seemed apt at all manner of causing a ruckus. The woman beside him was a concern too, quite ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice.
‘You brought protection?’
Jackdaw welcomed the drink placed in front of him a thanked the bringer appropriately. ‘I brought assurances. Can’t be too careful in this line of work – not that I need to preach that to you. Now that’s not to be saying that you would be trying to pull the dirty on me. You’re vouched for by Wyld here and that tickles me somewhat. How exactly did you come to know Wilheim’s dropper, girl? You do surprise me.’
A second glass was placed before Misu, which she acknowledged.
‘Like I told you, Jack –’ Wyld tipped her head ‘– you’re my best customer. That comes with its perks. I’ve crossed paths with these people some time back. We talk. It’s all you need to know – that and they’re on the level.’
Jackdaw sipped on his drink, apparently quite surprised at the quality of the liquor presented. He smacked his lips in agreement. ‘So let’s talk business. I was told that you had a proposition for me that was best kept secret until I was in your company. I’m already due some of that Root that you’re carrying so I’m wondering what else could be done.’
Now it was Jackdaw’s turn to be patient. Misu hoisted her legs up and laid them across the table, nodding both head and foot to the musical rhythm that played outside to the punters. She tapped her fingers in time to the beat, picking up the tones of Elizabeth’s voice as she serenaded the crowd. Finally she addressed him.
‘Your boss Wilheim. There may be complications with further drops of the Root and if trouble descends then nobody is going to get a share. I figure I could offload a percentage in your direction. Discreetly, like.’
‘Undercutting the big man, huh? How much are you wanting for it?’
‘No money. Just information.’
‘In exchange for how much of your cargo?’
‘Another eight bales.’
Jackdaw sipped again. He was obviously considerably impressed and tempted. Yet someone didn’t try to buy favour like this unless they were desperate. ‘You must want this information pretty bad.’
‘Somewhat. No point lying about it – we wouldn’t be talking if that wasn’t the case now would we?’
‘And what makes you think that I would agree to this? Why wouldn’t it be better for me to tell Wilheim myself what you’re planning and let him deal with the consequences?’
‘Don’t even try with that.’ Wyld waved her hand, in no mood for games. ‘We both know this deal is too good to pass up. There’s a good amount of money to be made on the extra Root and those eight bales would be pure profit.’
‘As long as Wilheim himself didn’t find out. I would have considerable troubles if he was to be made aware.’
‘Fortunately the people here are the very model of discretion.’
‘I’m struggling to work out how you, in particular, will benefit from this.’
Wyld chuckled, almost amused he hadn’t worked that out himself.
‘I’m sure a little of the profit that you make on this will be put my way. You always need my services and I always appreciate a loyal customer.’
‘Shrewd. Admirable though.’
Jack rubbed his chin in thought, pinpricks of hair from his goatee spiking his fingers time and time again.’
‘Exactly what information is it that you’re after?’ he probed.
Misu played her hand coolly. ‘I want to know where Wilheim Fort is hiding.’
Jackdaw’s lips curled to a smile. ‘Sweetheart, you might not want to go about kicking that rock over. It’ll be a heap of trouble for your pretty head.’
Misu took a mouthful of brandy, relishing the warm flood that trailed down her throat. ‘I’m expecting trouble, which is why we came to you. Do you know where he’s hiding out?’
Jackdaw leant back until his chair creaked, swirling the glass tumbler in his hand. ‘Me personally? No. I tried for sure, asked around, but he tends not to trust everyone beneath him. Paranoid fellow, that. Maybe with good reason now that we’re having this chat.’
‘Then the deal’s off.’
‘Hold your horses,’ Jackdaw exclaimed, sliding his glass atop a coaster. ‘I said I didn’t know where he was. That is to say, I know someone who does.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘I think we can do business; though before we go any further, I should stipulate that I will require something else in return.’ Jackdaw nodded, pressing his glasses up his nose. ‘Provided, of course, this goes no further than the room. Trouble would come for all parties if word got out of my involvement.’
Misu scoffed. ‘What else could you possibly desire? Is a nice stash to sell on the side not enough for this deal? I’m practically throwing it at you.’
‘You are. That’s the rub. The way I see it, you came to me in desperation. I don’t have to elaborate as to how dangerous this all is, and the risk to me is minimal in comparison, which puts me at something of an advantage in our little negotiation here.’ Jackdaw picked at the accumulated dirt beneath his fingernails in sequence.
‘State your intention. What do you want?’
‘I require … a favour,’ Jackdaw said, reflecting on future ambitions. ‘Outside of the Root, you have nothing I could possibly want and I am of the impression that should you find where Mister Fort resides, things will become considerably noisy. On the off chance that you do, somehow, survive whatever carnage you are bringing upon your heads, I’ll be impressed. I need people who impress me. They’re a rare commodity these days. If we enter this agreement then I will call upon you, just the once, for your assistance. You will not be able to decline said request, no matter the form it takes.’
‘That’s scarily ambiguous,’ Wyld stated. This was a move she had never predicted Jackdaw to contemplate, let alone make. If she had, Wyld would have warned Misu of the possibility in advance.
‘Isn’t it just? So think for a moment, talk it over between yourselves if you need to. I’m in no rush … It’s a lot to weigh up, given the –’
‘I agree.’ Misu didn’t need to think. She didn’t need to discuss this among the others like it was some damned committee. There was barely a pause before she agreed to the terms and bound herself to a verbal contract between them.
Jackdaw looked a mite surprised.
‘Oh, I’m sorry,’ she continued, almost amused. ‘Did you want me to dwell all flustered?’
Jackdaw smiled broadly at her and nodded in delight.
‘The man you’re after is Ivan Falkner. He lives just west of here, a rundown little place called Ranmill. From what I know, he’s had a couple of excursions to see Wilheim personally since he went to ground. He’ll be the one to discuss this with, though be warned … he’s not exactly the talkative type.’
Misu glanced to the woman beside her, verbalizing what they had both concluded. ‘Ranmill. It’s our next stop.’
‘Then that’s perfect, isn’t it? It’s almost as if it’s fate.’
‘What is Falkner to you? You seem very keen to throw him to the dogs,’ Wyld put forward. What she said overstepped the mark, but her inconsideration of boundaries worked in her favour.
Jackdaw laughed boisterously. ‘An inconvenience. With him out of the way my life will become that little bit easier and opportunities a bit more forthcoming. We all could use more space in our affairs and he takes up plenty of mine.’ He beckoned to the woman behind him to step
forward. She did so as if on parade. ‘If we’re done with the chit-chat. Alvina here will fill you in on the details of your new friend whilst we unload our delivery. I already have someone with a cart standing nearby. Is that agreeable?’
Misu tilted the mask. ‘Not entirely. Just to ensure that we don’t get stiffed on this deal, I would be more comfortable if you came along to Ranmill. If your man says who he is, then your part will be complete when we have Wilheim’s location.’
‘That sounds fair,’ Jack agreed, clearly feeling it best to give a little in this discussion, considering he had been pushing most of the demands.
‘Wonderful. Ferry, if you would be so kind as to help these gentlemen take what’s theirs from Car Six and the extra that we have agreed.’ She removed the key from her neck and tossed it towards him. It was caught with a heavy grasp. ‘Do it quickly and do it quiet. Our Songbird has almost finished but I’ll get her to perform a double set. The spectacle will draw eyes away. You’ll have around seventeen minutes, give or take.’
‘Yes, boss,’ Ferry said gruffly, leading Jackdaw and his partner out through the door.
* * *
The woman who remained took to the empty chair and crossed a leg over her other thigh. Alvina watched the Hare with the utmost suspicion, a product of her bloodline, which was difficult to shun given her turbulent history. Settler blood ran through her veins, her skin a number of shades darker than most in the region who had migrated from the north. She declined the offer of a cigar from an open case and instead watched the Hare light one herself and exhale its contents calmly.
‘To business then?’ Alvina asked, her voice thick with the uptick of a regional accent.
‘To business,’ the other woman agreed, leaning back in her chair, casually folding the tips of her fingers together. ‘Let’s talk about Mister Falkner, shall we?’
Chapter 20
Painting a target
Den of Stars Page 24