Mariah Mundi and the Ship of Fools

by G. P. Taylor

  Shanjing was about to tie her hands again when there was a tapping at the door. He looked surprised and anxious.

  ‘You’ve been found. Surely the Great Shanjing could have seen the future?’ Biba said, her words cutting.

  ‘Keep quiet if you know what is good for you,’ Shanjing replied. ‘Only one man knows I am here – pray it is him.’

  Shanjing opened the door slightly and looked out.

  ‘Is she here?’ asked a man. His voice was deep and caustic. ‘Charity is looking for her with the boy – we could set a trap. I have to have Mariah Mundi.’

  ‘Would be too easy – they would think it strange. I have had an idea,’ Shanjing replied courteously as if he was in fear of the man.

  ‘It can’t go wrong. The Carasbandra is lost. Without that vessel we have no way off the Triton. We need another way of escape,’ the man said.

  Shanjing whispered something that Biba DeFeaux couldn’t hear.

  ‘Midnight tonight,’ answered the man. ‘Everything has to be ready for then.’

  ‘Mr Markesan, please, will there be time?’ Shanjing pleaded.

  ‘For your sake and mine I hope so,’ the man said.

  Shanjing closed the door and turned to Biba. He stared at his hands and rubbed them together as if he looked for the answer to a question. The answer did not come.

  ‘Why do you need a way from the ship?’ Biba asked. ‘We will be in New York and you can escape then.’

  Shanjing shrugged his tiny shoulders and folded his arms. He looked like a small child that time had forgotten.

  ‘I have to be quick in what I need to do,’ he said as his mind raced. ‘How much money does your father have in his safe?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ replied Biba.

  ‘Does Vikash have a key?’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, knowing the reason for asking. ‘You’ll get as much out of him as you can and then leave the ship.’

  ‘You should be a mind reader,’ Shanjing replied. ‘With my last breath before I leave I will tell him where you are, alive or dead … Now I must go, I must go …’

  Shanjing rushed through the door and left Biba alone. She could hear the lock being turned and a bolt slid quickly into place. For a while there was silence. In his haste, Shanjing had left her hands untied. Biba quickly removed the binding from her feet and wondered what to do next. She knew she would have to find Mariah and warn him of what was planned. There was something about the voice of Markesan that was familiar. It was as if she had heard it before.

  She thought of Vikash and wondered what he would do. It would be easy for him to have her killed so he could have everything. The cost would doubtless be just a proportion of all the wealth he would inherit. Until that moment she had never really thought of money. It was only when it was valued against her life that she realised what power and importance it had. Biba had never wanted for anything that money could buy. Now she wanted that which was free but so hard to find. She had seen how Shanjing’s eyes had flamed whenever he spoke of money – his voice quickened, he came alive by the mere mention of its name. Perhaps, she thought, if she was poor then she would think differently about it. But now, the love of money could bring about her death.

  Yet, Biba hoped that there was something within Vikash, some pity or even love for her, that would prevail against any greed. He had been kind to her, she thought as she looked for a way out. If he had wanted her dead he could have just watched the bear kill her at Jacobshavn. No one would have known – he could have said he found her on the beach – well, what was left of a carcass picked over by a bear. Vikash had always protected her, even from her own mother and all that she did in the dark and secret nights when Biba’s father was away.

  ‘He won’t see me dead,’ Biba said in a whisper as she ran her hands around the doorframe, looking for a hidden key. She found a box on the floor covered in vanishing handkerchiefs. She pulled back the silks and there, neatly arranged as if they had just been used, was a compendium of magical tricks. There was a knife with a trick blade, a pack of large playing cards and a juggler’s baton.

  Suddenly, there were footsteps outside. Small, neat, dancing steps – it was Shanjing. Biba began to tremble.

  The bolt slid back. The lock was turned. Biba held her breath. Shanjing opened the door. Light flooded in.

  ‘I almost forgot,’ he gleefully said and then stopped. Shanjing could not see Biba.

  Biba didn’t hesitate. She took the juggler’s baton and lashed out blindly as she screwed up her eyes. There was a thud. Shanjing moaned. He stumbled to the floor, falling across a hessian sack. His small legs with even tinier feet blocked the door. She pushed them out of the way with her feet. She didn’t want to touch him. To her, Shanjing was haram, impure. It was as if by touching him she too would be sullied.

  He moaned loudly but couldn’t move. Biba pushed him further out of the way and then opened the door. Above her she could hear the dancers hoofing on the stage. It was time for their rehearsal. Biba knew that if she could get from the room she could soon find her way out. She took several slow steps from the room. The corridor was narrow and low. It was as if it was made just for Shanjing. She hunched forward, stooping. Walking was difficult and slow. Ahead she could see another door. She feared it to be locked. But when Biba twisted the handle the door opened. There was a scraping of steel. A knife was drawn in the darkness.

  ‘How far did you think you would get?’ Shanjing asked, somewhere near.

  Biba looked back over her shoulder. Shanjing was three feet away, holding a long-bladed knife like a Saracen’s sword.

  ‘Just let me go and I won’t tell anyone,’ she said as she edged her fingers around the door.

  ‘Too late for that, my dear.’ Shanjing said as he came towards, her ready to strike. ‘I may have let you go eventually – but now I think not …’

  Biba looked again. Shanjing wasn’t there. Suddenly the knife flashed by her face. Biba pushed against the door, which opened into the passageway below the stage. Shanjing stabbed at her again. The knife glanced her shoulder and then was embedded in the wall. The dwarf hung from the stiletto. He kicked against the wall to pull it free. Biba got to her feet and slammed the door. She slid the bolt on the outside as she rested against the wall.

  ‘Must find Mariah,’ she said as she gained her breath.

  There was a splitting of wood – the knife burst through the wall. It sliced through her coat, against the side of her skin. Biba could feel the blade touching her, cold and hard. She didn’t move. The blade came again and this time, the knife cut through the boards above her shoulder. She fell to the floor and looked up as the knife was smashed again and again through the wood. Shanjing was cutting his way out. He stabbed and stabbed like a madman. Biba could hear his shrill voice screaming damnation.

  ‘I’ll find you, Biba DeFeaux,’ he screamed. ‘You will never be safe – not even on Deck 13.’

  Biba was petrified with fear. She attempted to get to her feet but was frozen to the spot. She could feel her stomach turn as she began to sob. Tears filled her eyes. She wanted her father, wanted Vikash, wanted Mariah. She screamed as she finally forced herself to move. Biba stumbled as the wooden wall splintered and tore and the dagger ripped and ripped. It was as if it slashed through bone.

  ‘Mariah!’ she shouted. Her words echoed down the empty corridor.

  Shanjing burst through the wall, knife in hand. Blood trickled from his leather fingers.

  ‘I’ll find you – no matter where, Biba DeFeaux,’ he said as he threw his voice so that it came at her chillingly from all sides.

  Biba ran. Her body trembled. She looked back. Shanjing pursued her like a demented child. He would only give up when he had caught her. Biba ran faster. She could see the door at the end of the corridor and prayed it would not be locked – prayed she would not be trapped.

  The door opened easily. There was a spiral of dark stairs without any light. She fumbled upwards a tread at a time. It was fam
iliar. The smell of lime and greasepaint filled the air like an autumnal bouquet of wet leaves, and she could hear the sound of dancing. Feet clattered against boards as the whir of a hurdy-gurdy droned on and on.

  Biba could see the outline of a door edged in light and pulled frantically to open it. The door was locked. She ran even higher. Far behind her, the sound of miniature footsteps padded on relentlessly. They drew closer. Slowing in speed, as if tiring, they still came. Shanjing would not give up. It was as if he could scent her presence and her only escape would be in death.

  [21]

  The Eloquent Captain Ellerby

  ‘I HAVE searched everywhere,’ Vikash said as he met with Charity and Mariah by the doors of the Saloon Theatre. ‘Biba is nowhere to be found.’

  ‘How did she get from the room?’ Mariah asked, having kept watch at the steam elevator whilst Charity and Vikash had searched the ship.

  ‘We can only presume she was taken,’ Charity replied as crowds of passengers milled by whilst taking their afternoon walk. ‘The lifeboats are all in place, so I don’t think she has left the ship.’

  ‘It could only have been Shanjing. There must be a place where he has taken her,’ Vikash said.

  ‘I questioned Charlemagne. He says he has not seen the dwarf since he vanished. He knows of no place where he could be hiding,’ Charity replied.

  ‘Then I will go and ask him,’ Vikash said, cracking the knuckles of his fingers. ‘I am sure he will talk for me.’

  ‘A conspiracy?’ asked Ellerby, suddenly appearing in his crisp and neat captain’s uniform. ‘Is there something I should know of?’

  The three looked at each other and no one spoke. Ellerby smiled at Mariah.

  ‘You have an appointment. In fact you are already late. I came to Deck 13 and you were gone. Did you forget?’ he asked.

  ‘I came to tell Captain Charity that Lorenzo Zane had invited me to see the engine room. I’m sorry,’ Mariah said as he stared at Charity.

  ‘Then we shall depart. We cannot keep Zane waiting,’ Ellerby said as he gripped Mariah by the arm.

  ‘I too shall enjoy the visit,’ said Charity.

  ‘It is just for the boy – not for you. He comes alone,’ Ellerby replied.

  ‘But –’ protested Charity to no avail as Ellerby walked off holding Mariah.

  ‘I will keep him safe and bring him back to you, don’t fear,’ Ellerby said.

  Neither of them spoke as Ellerby took Mariah out onto the deck of the Triton. The sea was thick and icy-black. A bank of Newfoundland murk had overcast the morning sun. It spread like a dark hand from the far horizon. In the distance Mariah could see the tip of an iceberg the size of a mountain. It seemed alone and out of place, slowly dying as it drifted south. He pointed to it with his free hand.

  ‘How far is the iceberg?’ he asked.

  ‘Many miles. We shall be out of its way and safe in New York by the time it has drifted this far to the south,’ Ellerby replied.

  ‘Did you see the lights to the north? I heard it was the result of an experiment,’ said Mariah.

  Ellerby shrugged his shoulders as if he didn’t care and kept on walking towards the stern of the ship. A small doorway set in a bulkhead was surrounded by empty deck chairs and neatly folded blankets. There were no passengers here. A red cord rope barred entry, but Ellerby stepped over the rope and opened the door. Mariah followed.

  ‘Not many people have been allowed to see this,’ he said as he walked down a narrow flight of steps lit by a chain of electric lights. ‘Lorenzo Zane must think you are very special.’

  Mariah could feel the air getting warmer as they walked. There was a smell of oil and boiled tea. The stairway was claustrophobic and grew smaller the deeper they went. He could see nothing ahead of him as Ellerby blocked his view.

  ‘Much further?’ he asked as the narrow stairway turned into a corridor.

  ‘Through the next hatch and we shall be there,’ Ellerby replied as he opened the hatch and stepped through. The bright light blinded Mariah. It burnt like a sun as it scorched through the hatch. ‘Wear these,’ said Ellerby, handing Mariah a pair of spectacles with black lenses. ‘You will need them until we pass through the next hatch.’

  Mariah put on the glasses and walked on. The light was intense. He held out his hand and was sure he could see the bones under his skin.

  ‘What is it for?’ he asked Ellerby.

  ‘A means of security – anyone trapped in here would never escape,’ he replied.

  Ellerby opened the other hatch and took the glasses from Mariah. They were now in a small sterile room with steel walls. Mariah could hear the sound of the engine louder than he had ever heard it before. Ellerby slid a handle on the wall and to Mariah’s surprise the wall opened.

  There before him was the gigantic engine room. Three galleries surrounded two vast steam pistons. A large steel tank with gold riveted bands was connected to a boiler that stretched up high above them. Lorenzo Zane stood on a raised dais in front of a control panel of wheels and dials.

  ‘Good to see you, Mariah,’ he said as he beckoned him over. ‘This is the Zane Generator. Impressive, isn’t it?’

  Mariah nodded, lost for words.

  ‘I have to go,’ Ellerby said. ‘The Bicameralist is returning to signalling distance.’

  Zane nodded and turned to Mariah. ‘I wanted you to see this. My son has no interest in engines. In fact he is quite boring. He likes to play cricket and pull the legs from cockroaches. For once in my life I want to share all I have done with someone other than those who have aged and lost their vision of wonder.’ Zane held up his arms as if he beheld a god. ‘This is my greatest invention and yet …’ His words faded into a sigh.

  ‘It is beautiful,’ Mariah said as he stared up at the monster of steel and chrome that towered above him.

  ‘A good word, Mariah, a good word. An engine can be beautiful. And yet you saw the one flaw in my whole design,’ Zane said.

  ‘I did?’ asked Mariah.

  ‘When you were in the skyship you noticed that one engine had failed,’ Zane said as he bit his lip anxiously and pushed back his thick black hair. ‘There was a mishap. One of the crew fell inside the Steam Generator. That engine no longer works and I was wondering …’ Zane stopped and looked Mariah up and down. ‘You see, Mariah, I need someone adventurous to go inside and retrieve something for me. You are just about the right size – would you be willing?’ he asked nervously.

  ‘What do you need me to get?’ asked Mariah uncomfortably, knowing one man had already died.

  ‘An instrument of great worth. Small, delicate, irreplaceable, incredibly valuable and in the pocket of the idiot who got himself killed,’ Zane said as he picked a fleck of dust from Mariah’s shoulder.

  ‘How did he die?’ Mariah asked.

  ‘Heart failure,’ Zane said, avoiding the truth. ‘That is really of no importance. He is stuck – jammed – and blocking the outlet pipe valve. Once I have the Thannometer I can flush him from the system. You would like to help me, wouldn’t you, Mariah? I even think I know where I could find Biba. I heard she had vanished – in a cloud of smoke?’

  Mariah thought for a moment. ‘Why me?’ he asked. ‘You must have many men who could go inside.’

  ‘I do,’ Zane replied. ‘But I am sure they would end up the same way. I need someone youthful, dexterous and anxious to please.’ Zane handed Mariah a white silk overall that had been hanging over the back of the chair. ‘I think this is your size.’

  Mariah looked at the overall. He realised he would have to do what Zane wanted. Mariah hated to be patronised, especially by someone like Zane. Taking the overall he slipped it on quickly and buttoned up the front.

  ‘The Thannometer – what does it do?’ Mariah asked.

  ‘It measures units of force and balances them against their resistance. It is quite a wonderful thing. You can’t mistake it. Bring it back and you will be well rewarded,’ Zane said eagerly. ‘Just take the stepladder.
’

  Zane pointed to a brass ladder set in the side of a large steel cylinder. At the top was an open brass hatch that appeared to lead into a long funnel. Mariah looked up. It seemed so far away. All around the machinery whirred and churned. He saw no other men apart from Zane. It was as if he was the only one running the ship.

  ‘How does the ship get its power?’ Mariah asked.

  Zane looked surprised to be asked such a question. He grinned malevolently. ‘That is a great secret, but one that I will share with you … Ice fusion – but I do not expect you to understand. I have created a device that burns ice so quickly that it creates a dense steam under intense pressure … the Thannolater. It then creates ice and so the circle continues – perpetual motion … Perhaps you have seen the emerald tinge to the steam coming from the stack?’ Mariah shook his head. He hadn’t noticed at all. ‘Don’t worry, Mariah, once inside the flask there are treads that will take you to the right place. Bring back the Thannometer and you can go, I promise. But first I will stop the engine. The momentum will keep the ship moving for several miles. No one should notice.’

  Zane spun a dial on the board. The engine grew still, the room silent. He gestured for Mariah to go, pointing to the ladder and smiling.

  Mariah turned, took hold of the ladder and began to climb. He was soon at the top, but didn’t care to look down. It seemed pointless. All he could think of was what was ahead – taking the Thannometer from a dead man’s pocket and then getting out of the engine room with his life. He had no reason to believe that Zane would have him killed, but this was a secret place, a place that Mariah should never have seen.

  He climbed on and just as he reached the brass hatch the door opened below. Ellerby came in, removed the dark glasses and went to Zane. They appeared to wait until Mariah was inside the flask. He lingered out of sight and tried to listen to what was being said.