Albert Todd was a tall man. He was taller than Simon by a few inches at the least, with an anatomy that echoed a former career in the military. He had wheat colored hair, lighter than his son’s, with green eyes and a cleft in his chin Simon had envied all his life and felt slighted for not inheriting. He was wearing a midnight blue suit coat when he entered the kitchen. A ruby cravat spilling out the neck of his collar. “Simon,” he said with a slight inflection in his voice, looking at his son from top to bottom through one eye, his other having been lost years ago. Almost cautiously his father removed his brown bowler.
Simon Todd smiled awkwardly in greeting, noticing that the lens of his father’s ocular monocle device had been changed from violet to green. It was attached via a chain to his right earlobe and hooked over the bridge of his nose, similar to a pair of spectacles. He had a mask in one hand which he promptly set on a counter behind him. It was slightly tinged yellow.
“Hello, Father,” Simon replied, standing up as straight as he was able.
Albert nodded, moving around him to inspect the stove before going to his wife and greeting her with a kiss to the cheek. “You didn’t say that you were coming.”
His mother beamed as he pulled away, asking if he desired a piece of pie to which he replied no.
“I was in town a bit…unexpectedly,” Simon lied, pivoting on his heel to regard him. “I haven’t had a lot of time to write I’m afraid.”
Albert nodded. “Business then?” he asked, pulling at the moustache that wrapped around his angular face.
“Yes.”
“Oh Berty, isn’t it nice? Simon is here!” Marigold stepped forward, embracing her husband’s arm as she gazed at her son affectionately. “You’re in time for pie, Simon! It should be ready by now,” Mari stepped away, going to the stove and opening it with a frown.
“Well, I thought I baked a pie…”
Simon exhaled, glancing at his father with a look of concern before taking her by the arm. “You did, Mum. We’ve already had a slice.”
“We did?” Her eyes were wide and bright. “Did you like it?” she asked.
Simon couldn’t help but chuckle at his mother’s sunny disposition. “It was delightful, Mum. Same as always.”
The older woman stood up straight, glancing towards her husband who had since placed the paper wrapped butcher’s meat on the table.
“Will you be staying long?” he asked?
“I should make up the spare room!” His mother perked up. “I’ve always insisted we must have a spare room unless Simon comes for a visit. Right, Berty?”
Albert nodded, sitting down at the table as he began to loosen his cravat. “Yes, dear.”
Simon nodded again, trying not to appear as awkward as he felt. “That would be lovely, Mum. I’ll probably stay only night or two at most, but it would be nice to visit awhile.” He regarded his father.
She clapped her hands together. “Alright. Will just take a moment.”
Simon watched as she floated away, her skirts flowing behind her as she departed for the upstairs. Since they had left Darlington a few years ago, very little had changed about either of his parents, Simon noticed. Aside from his mother’s memory.
Taking a seat, and thankfully remembering to compose himself before doing so, Simon stared at the table a moment, and at the half eaten piece of mince pie his mother had forgotten she baked.
“You look well, Simon,” his father said, regarding him through one green eye and one emerald lens. Simon thought the sentiment was funny considering the effort he was currently employing to stay corporeal.
“Well enough,” he said.
“How’s Darlington these days? Keeping the house in good order?” Albert Todd inquired.
Simon nodded, feeling like his father would be proud of the state the house was in. “Everything is tip top.” Then he remembered the silverware and how he hadn’t been able to polish them in a dog’s age. “Though once I’m back I think the fence could use a coat or two.” He should have just brought the whole set of kitchenware with him, he mused, feeling sour.
Albert removed his jacket, setting it on the chair and forking himself a piece of pie from Mari’s plate. “Mr. Hershal was here for a visit as well a little while ago.”
Simon thought that was likely. The old man consistently popped in from place to place to keep affairs in order.
“He told me Rebecca Baxter died a little while ago.”
Simon pursed his lips together, regarding his father as he looked up inquiringly.
“Yes,” he said, steeling himself for what was to come.
But his father only nodded, having another bite of his mother’s pie. “That’s too bad.”
His father’s reaction was a bit surprising to say the least. Part of the reason his parents had moved from Darlington had been due to the Baxter’s relocation next door. Though Simon’s mother was mostly impartial, his father, and in fact most of the Frelish military hated wizards for the power they exerted over the royal family.
Simon could understand it. He could sympathize. But Simon didn’t entirely share in his father’s hatred. Rebecca had been a lovely woman when she was alive, and though some may say he was a lovesick, brain addled idiot when it came to Miss Baxter, Mr. Todd was certain that both mother and daughter had good hearts. Penelope wanted to change Grimguild, follow in her mother’s footsteps. Simon believed it wholeheartedly.
“Anyway,” Simon always found it difficult to continue conversations with his father. Especially since he knew the man hated small talk. “Is…”
“Albert, is that you?” Both men paused, looking up at the ceiling as his mother’s voice echoed down the front stairs. His father, taking in another mouthful of pie, swallowed with a shake of his head.
“Yes, Marigold,” he hollered back.
“Who is it you’re speaking to?”
Simon looked at his father who sighed, and placed the fork back on the table beside the now empty plate.
“I’m speaking to Simon. Remember he—”
“Simon’s here?” she asked, her voice increasing in pitch.
Albert pressed his lips into a thin line, avoiding his son’s gaze as they waited for her return to the kitchen. After a moment the older man stood, retrieved the package of wrapped meat he had fetched from the butchers shop and moved to place it in the ice box.
Again she called from upstairs. “Is that why I seem to be making up the spare room?”
His father smiled as he turned back towards the table, two cups and saucers in hand. “Yes, dear,” he replied again, signalling to Simon an offer for a cup of tea.
“Oh well that makes sense then.”
Albert sat back down, pouring himself a cup of Frelish Breakfast with a cube of sugar in it.
One more time, his mother hollered from the upstairs. “I’ve a pie in the stove! Be a dear and offer Simon a slice, won’t you, Berty?”
“Only if you promise to make another later,” he said, voice flat, stirring at the steeping brew.
“Oh, you devil!”
Albert chuckled.
Simon felt a bit awkward sitting in the kitchen, listening to his mother and father ignore the obvious elephant in the room. It had been awhile since he had seen them both, but it was obvious that the rate in which she was forgetting things was much more rapid than it had been before.
Summoning up his courage and clearing his throat as he watched his father indulge in, what Simon thought to be, a rather nasty brand of tea, he inquired as to his mother’s disposition.
“Is it getting worse?” he asked, looking upstairs to indicate his question.
His father’s eyes followed his son’s as he took another sip and sat back. “The doctor said it’s only short term memory loss at the moment and that we shouldn’t worry about it developing further right yet.”
Simon watched him inhale deeply, eyeing the designs of his wife’s porcelain teacups.
“Your mother’s obviously aware of her condition, she
handles it like she does everything else, but if you’re worried about her then coming to visit more often would help.”
Simon lowered his head, feeling quite ashamed of himself.
“An epistle every now and then would do wonders.”
Simon nodded.
“That way she can squirrel them away. Read them later. Write back. It’s harder to lose paper.”
“I will.” Simon smiled, balling his hands into fists upon the tabletop. “I’ll write until she’s sick of me,” he said.
To that, his father chuckled. “You’ll need another job to keep you in supply of ink in that case.”
“Let me see you!” His mother returned to the kitchen with open arms. “I think you’ve gotten smaller! Are you eating? Didn’t you offer him a slice of pie?”
Albert stood from the table, hands up defensively. “I did.”
“It looks like you’ve helped yourself!”
It was good to see his mother laugh again. Simon had forgotten how catching his mum’s happiness was, and how much it fueled his father.
The young accountant stood up from the table, his chair scratching against the floor. “If it’s not entirely unmannerly of me, I do need to stop by the bank today.”
“Mr. Hershal has you working his financials now?” his mother asked.
Simon inhaled, shaking his head. “I’m his head accountant now,” he said again, glad his mother seemed even more pleased then when she had heard it the first time.
“I brought that boar meat back from the butchers, Mari. Why don’t you cook it up for supper?”
His mother’s eyes widened. “Oh you will be having supper with us, won’t you Simon?”
He nodded. “Of course, Mum. I shouldn’t be too long, perhaps by mid-afternoon.” He thought about how he had told the others that he’d meet them in the evening. Did he have enough time to let them know he wouldn’t be able to join them? Simon wasn’t entirely sure how far away Mr. Dashing’s temporary residence was.
“You go get your work done, dear.” Marigold started, kissing him on the cheek as she began leading him to the door.
“A-are you sure, Mum?”
“Absolutely!” She laughed, waving as he began to descend the stairs. “Hurry back! See you in a little while!”
Simon waved, turning on his heel towards the wrought iron fence and pausing. “D-don’t forget!”
His mother giggled. “Never, dear! See you soon,” she said, watching as he disappeared down the urban streets back towards the Gray Train.
“Dear,” Marigold called back to her husband as she moved to shut the door behind her. “Could you check the pie for me? I think I smell it burning.”
Chapter 33
This Is Getting Teadious
It hadn’t taken Mr. Todd long to update the books once he’d located the Hershal Bank. The longest wait had been gaining access to the financial records initially. It turned out that the Ebonguard branch of the institution was also the most heavily secured, which Simon supposed made sense considering the amount of money that regularly passed through its vaults on a day to day basis. Mr. Todd not only had to supply them with his accountant ID related to the Hershal corporation, but was required to answer a series of complex questions regarding his person. Simon hadn’t even been aware that the bank was in possession of the majority of that information, but delivered it nonetheless in order to get on with business and update his rather cumbersome ledger, which he did with plenty of time left over to go wandering about looking for the others.
The day had evolved into something resembling a smoggy overcast as he made his way through the busier streets of Ebonguard. Long tiered buildings with hundreds of paned windows overlooking the paved streets like blurred mirrors gave the city an eerie appearance, one intensified by the long coats and canister adorned gasmasks of its denizens. Simon felt oddly out of place as he walked along the damp, black cobbles, face uncovered and free of the soot and dirt that seemed to shadow everyone else. He had left the ledger and case with the bank when he had left, promising to come back in the morning to retrieve it.
It was a relief to not have to carry it around. However, his ghostly form didn’t hold onto the dirt floating about the city air like it did when he was corporeal, and that meant he looked quite a bit cleaner than the rest of the pedestrians going about their business. He wondered if anyone would really notice.
After a little while of searching for Mr. Dashing’s address, Simon heard noises from down the street. The sounds of the clarinet, accordion and bass all collected into some kind of eerie carnival melody that drew his attention from the tiny address scrawled onto the Milkbath business card.
Mr. Todd followed a few other curious individuals, listening to the sounds of the music and stopping once or twice when he thought he saw something uncanny at the corner of his eye. A girl wearing a brown, leather mask that obscured the entirety of her features kept staring at him every time she managed to catch up beside him. She was wearing a lacy dress of ivory and yellow with long ballroom gloves that concealed her arms. Upon her head was a bonnet.
Simon gave her a nod when she endeavored to catch up again, pausing in his pursuit of the music. She had an incredibly large bustle he noticed, and looked entirely too dolled up to have her gown ruined in the ash ridden streets of Ebonguard.
“Can I help you?” he asked, looking up the road where a crowd had gathered. The Cinderstone Ziggurat was large and ornate in the distance, and the tinted sun was just beginning to hover at its crest through the clouds.
The girl paused, looking over at him and cocking her head. “I…” she began, her voice as soft as fleece, “I’ve never seen a carnival before.”
Simon looked back. “Is that what it is?” It seemed to him like a lot more, like it was calling to him.
The girl nodded.
“Well, me either,” Simon smiled, “not a performing one at least.” He was getting eager to see it, which, to be honest, he thought rather odd. Circus acts and carnivals weren’t really the type of things Mr. Todd tended to look forward to.
“Then shall we go together?” she asked. Simon found himself a bit startled when she jumped forward, clasping him about the arm. More so in fact when she didn’t actually go through him.
He stared at her arm entangled about his for perhaps longer then may have been deemed necessary, but as she tugged for him to proceed towards the ever increasing crowd, Simon allowed for his pursuit of curiosity to overwhelm his turgid sense of propriety. They joined the others after another moment and watched with rapt disbelief as tumblers and clowns and joy hoppers all congregated along the backside of one large, exhaling elephanti.
“They said they weren’t coming to Ebonguard!” Simon found himself hollering, but the music consumed his voice as Manny himself stepped out from the maw of the automated pachyderm, adorned in black and white, starry stripes.
“Ladies and Gentlemen!” He laughed. Cherie tossed herself dramatically from the top of the elephant’s brow to dangle from a trapeze about its chin. “May I present to you lovely denizens of the Ebony City, the Circus of the Exhaling Elephanti!” His voice echoed about the city square that yawned out deeply from the meandering cobbled streets of downtown. Only one of his steaming elephants were present, Simon realized, but more so did he notice that from the top of the machinated animal, where the carousel was spinning, the skeletal horses from before began to float away. They flew through the air like demons, among the audience members, carrying away some to prance about the sky.
“Well, that looks like a laugh,” Simon said, hoping one of the equine undead might stop to offer him a ride. He felt the arm about his hold tight when he endeavored a step forward. Looking back to his new found acquaintance, Simon was surprised when he espied Mr. Dashing and the others in the distance.
“Mr. Dashing!” Simon called, preoccupied at the moment with the appearance of his comrades. The gunslinger seemed to pay him little heed however as he rushed through the crowd, calling Cherie�
��s name. Simon suddenly felt quite embarrassed to have a young girl, whose name was still unknown to him, wrapped about his person as the others approached him with inquiring eyes.
“Oh Simon!” Miss Baxter said at once. “You ought to plug your ears, Mr. Todd! Manny’s calling souls to him.”
So that was the way of it. Simon frowned in reply, nodding his head solemnly from a few meters away within the crowd. He saw Fae tapping Mr. Darcy on the shoulder as he turned about. She was giggling at the sight of Mr. Todd with a young lady on his arm.
“My compatriots seem to be here,” Simon said, trying to point backwards when some other individual began to step into the space his form was currently occupying. Simon felt rather offended. Sure, he was presently a ghost and it may have been easy to simply stand in a man’s space, but he didn’t really like the idea of another gentleman’s head currently poking out the side of his chin.
“Excuse me,” he said, trying to get the man’s attention, scowling at his own finger when it disappeared into the gentleman’s shoulder.
“Now to open my nickelodeon of curiosities,” Manny declared as the chest of the elephanti yawned open, “and introduce the Oddity Jesters!”
Simon squinted past the crowd as the woman on his arm gasped. Half a dozen willowy young women dressed in orange fluorescent leotards with teal spots somersaulted out of the elephanti, moving erratically among the crowd in pairs. They were wearing ornate gas masks which lent an otherworldly appearance to their already strange costumes. As one began to dance and jump about the air, another bent to catch them, contorting at angles that looked more than painful. They weaved through the crowd as though the spectators were water.
“Oh!” The lace adorned woman gasped again through her own mask.
Simon shook his head, still a bit preoccupied with the man intruding in his space as he began to re-solidify himself in an attempt to push him away.
“Sir, you’re missing it,” she said to him as Mr. Todd was forced against her in order for his body to accommodate the right amount of space.
The Curious Case of Simon Todd Page 36