Franco was touched, beckoning the noise to lower with his better arm.
‘I thank you. I truly do. It has been too long and I have suffered to be here. Now firstly, I wish to address the rumours that have floated around these few days. You may have all heard of the difficulties that I faced, read about it in the papers, or heard the stories of bravery via gossip.’ Franco changed his tone. ‘I’ve heard the tales spoken among you myself. The fantastical dealings. The unbelievable feats of heroism, even the ones that are seemingly impossible. I can confirm that they are, in fact, all true. All of them.’
A hearty laughter rippled out from where he stood.
‘But while I would like to take credit for this affair, I cannot. Just as I cannot singularly accept your praise for tonight’s entertainment – to do so would be dishonest, and let nothing else be said of me than that I am an honest man. To explain, I hand you over to the co-owner of the Morning Star. You know her better as the Hare. I introduce to you, the no longer deceased Misu Pontain.’
The spotlights on the platform swung to the roof of carriage five. Everyone turned to the new figure illuminated before them.
Misu strolled along the opposite rooftop, tossing her hair aside with an extravagant flick. She bowed to the audience, then to Franco in turn, before turning back to the audience to address them. The Hare presented herself quite proudly with a slant of the hips.
‘Franco is indeed correct. His return was ensured by all of us. The women you see tonight can be mistakenly assumed to be merely servers, game keepers, and money holders, but they are so much more.’
Corinne hid a smile as she folded a pack of cards into itself at the blackjack table. Katerina placed a magnum of wine into corresponding glasses for a seated table, attempting to cover her blush with the serving tray. Elizabeth lined up a series of glasses on the bar, turning to glance at her manager above. Misu more than anyone else knew the sacrifices the showgirls made, all of them who busied themselves and strived to make the Morning Star the best it could possibly be. Those who waited on the tables felt the urge to bow or curtsey, shyly attempting to continue their roles unhindered.
‘And they should never feel the need to hide behind a mask.’ Her arm spread out, encompassing the length of the showgirls who stood at their designated positions. Misu yanked away the visage of the Hare and dropped it before her. She stared at the hollow eye sockets, her own face warped from the curvature of the features and the gloss of its finish before bringing her foot down upon it.
The showgirls looked to one another and removed their masks candidly, unsure as to how to continue with this deviation of the normal routine. Upon doing so, each was met with cheers and jubilation. They accepted it with perfect grace though some expectantly felt overcome by the outpouring of affection.
Misu’s voice was close to cracking under the weight of emotion.
‘Little spirits such as those before you are capable of grand feats so please do not underestimate them. People have done them wrong. I, in particular, have even done so. Those who rode the Gambler’s Den were family and this tradition is continued on the Morning Star. So I beg you all tonight: never underestimate your family, even if they are not of your blood.’
Misu warmly smiled, strolling closer to Franco. He reached out a hand, helping her across the gap between carriages as best he could. Franco was indebted to her, something he would previously only admit in private though made it no less genuine. He brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, her eyes falling to a close. Misu’s mask had been taken away, her mouth curving to a warm, genuine smile, devoid of any professional falsehood. She patted his good arm, letting her fingers linger on his jacket longer than she noticed before continuing.
‘Money is fleeting my friends. It can come to you in a downpour, and soak you with extravagance. The next, you can be dry and left wanting. It is our business to deal with wealth and we are apt at it. We hoard it. We exchange it. We pay it out. But true value is not in the circumference of a coin, nor within the folds of a note. The love you have for your friends, your family, and one another is what makes you truly rich in this life. Treasure this – and despite any urges, do not gamble with it.’
She gave Franco an enduring look. It was one of compassion and genuine relief.
‘For its loss is far too great to endure.’
The last few months had been painful to bear, causing Misu to shun so much. She had suffered what few should suffer, worried more than was possible, embattled the rubbishing of her reputation, and almost destroyed her deepest of friendships.
Though as difficult as things had been, families seldom leave their own to the mercy of wolves.
The fireworks glittered in the dark sky. Music swallowed the silence. Patrons drank and cheered and gamed to their fill. The Morning Star gave the show of a lifetime. The pair regaled the story of how they escaped death at a hair’s length, of how Franco was captured and Misu forced into service and the climactic, dramatic rescue. The audience gasped and cheered at the right moments, quite taken at every revelation.
Naturally the mention of the Red Root was omitted, for that was pushing their luck and with Marshal Juniper himself in the crowd, the specifics of his assistance was still secretive. Still, when it was revealed about the sacrifice that the heroic Bluecoats made, he too was affectionately cheered for and those beneath him who perished were remembered in a moment’s silence.
When the last of the patrons staggered home in song, the train platform was bare once more. Bottles lay empty and chairs stood without their occupants. Coloured confetti paper laid a patchy, garish decoration covering tile and concrete.
Franco limped out, assessing the scope of the clean-up required. He wearily sat himself on the nearest chair with a pained groan and humbly reflected on his position.
‘Good night, huh?’ Misu draped her arm around his shoulders, surveying the remains of a job well done. It was possible that she had enjoyed a couple of drinks herself in celebration and felt the effects of inebriation.
‘Very successful. We took a lot in tonight. With the truth about what happened, maybe the papers can publish that instead of the fiction that they’re peddling.’
‘That wasn’t what I was referring to.’
‘Yes.’ Franco rose to her question with a warm smile. ‘A very good night indeed.’
‘You made the right decision you know,’ Misu stated, ‘to carry on.’
Franco turned away momentarily. ‘Yeah, well, it would be cruel to take what we do away from the punters. I’m thinking we can keep this show going on for a little bit longer. Besides …’ he shrugged ‘… it’s not like I’m good at anything else, am I?’
Without warning Misu placed a kiss upon his cheek, firm enough to take him by surprise, but delicate enough to not cause him discomfort. Franco would have been seen to be blushing, if it was possible to spot the pale parts of his face turning red in between the beaten blotches.
‘That, my dear, is the smartest thing I’ve ever heard you say.’
* * *
The Sand Sea had few legends that withstood the austerity of time, but the recovery of Franco Del Monaire by the hands of those who loved him was firmly set into the ages. Children would spy approaching trains on the horizon, cheering in excitement in the hope that the trail of steam from an approaching engine was that of the travelling show.
Teenagers who felt bad-handed by life coined the phrase: one day I’ll gamble far from here as a defiant adage, an affectionate tribute that passed from mouth to ear.
Towns and cities welcomed them grandly, sometimes begging for an appearance, the show treated with an almost royal reception. In thanks the Morning Star thrived with new vigour and fame, the latter opening doors of opportunity that its inhabitants had never dreamed of. Every show increased in spectacle and splendour. The showgirls upped their repertoire, performing feats both amazing and daring to onlookers, winning plenty of admirers. The money of course was more than they all dreamed.
Franco preached that their experiences should underpin the show as, in his words, the present show could be their last. It was a sentiment echoed by Misu who educated new employees in the trials that the Morning Star had endured, not that this was needed. At every significant stop, the co-owners were approached by those desiring to be taken on, flaunting their talents in interviews for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, well aware of the train’s standing. To be a part of the Morning Star became a very sought-after thing.
Surprisingly, even roaming bandits paid their respects, pulling their posse away when recognizing the Morning Star’s prominent colours. Anybody who brought about the downfall of Wilheim Fort was dangerous to cross indeed.
It would be easy to envision this being the end of Franco and Misu’s tale, where they performed show after show aboard the Morning Star until old age caused the venture to change hands to a party younger and more capable. It would be fanciful to picture them retired, sharing memories and stories over cider, their looks ravaged by age whilst they reminisce over the glory days. And who knows, if fate chose differently, maybe this would have been the outcome.
But Jackdaw inadvertently ensured this would not be the case.
Chapter 35
The letter
Franco & Misu,
Congratulations on returning to the world of the living and expelling Wilheim to the world of the dead. I’m impressed. The occasional excited word reaches me about your show, people who speak eagerly and at length about how breath-taking it is. Despite my doubts, I suppose miracles can happen.
I’ll get to the point. I know you’ve both settled into a routine and the show is everything; but, Misu, you and I did business to get you to where you are today. If you recall, that business came with an agreement that I would call upon you when required.
That time is now. I’m calling in your debt.
I have a window of opportunity that I am keen to exploit, for a job that critically needs to succeed. We need to be ready to depart from Esquelle in five days exactly and the Morning Star will be essential to the plans. Don’t worry, there will be no danger for yourselves. Your pretty train will be quite safe so you can breathe easy.
Being a kindly sort, let me assure you both that all will benefit from the outcome. Maybe more so than even you both can imagine. Wouldn’t that be quite the thing?
You’re welcome.
Cordially,
Jackdaw
Don’t miss the next instalment in The Gambler’s Den series, Den of Smoke, coming soon …
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Copyright
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
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First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2017
Copyright © Christopher Byford 2017
Christopher Byford asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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E-book Edition © October 2017 ISBN: 9780008257491
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