Den of Stars

Misu kept her performance perfect. A query with no hint of sarcasm was delivered. ‘Oh? And what would that be? You can inspect inside if you so wish. I assure you, we have nothing to hide.’

‘There’s a, er …’ The man hesitated before leaning in closer. ‘There’s a tax in these parts for this particular type of vehicle.’

Misu sighed. ‘A tax.’

‘Right.’

‘Let me guess. A very specific tax for only vehicles of this very specific type. Correct?’

He nodded.

‘Meaning only mine.’

The nod was repeated.

‘How much?’

‘Around four hundred should cover it.’

‘You’ll get three,’ Misu countered, tossing the pleasant impression aside. ‘And I won’t hear a single objection. You’re pushing your luck out here. A bribe is not extortion. Learn the difference.’

Reluctantly she handed over a bundle of worn notes and waited for him to finish counting. When he was done, the money was inserted alongside the notebook for safekeeping.

‘I’m starting to wonder how a businesswoman like myself can ever make a profit out this way. Ask for that much from everyone and nobody will want to pass through.’ Misu scowled.

‘I’m sure anyone with a competent vocation can recoup this meagre amount in no time.’

The travel documents were stamped with the checkpoint’s seal and handed over. Misu snatched them back into her possession.

‘Besides, if you have difficulties on that front there are other ways to recoup your losses.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Sure you do,’ he repeated in a purr, reaching forward and leaning against the carriage. In any other situation Misu would have vigorously insisted that his hand was immediately removed. On a bad day she would be more inclined to break it. But there was no need for hostility yet. ‘You have the means here to make plenty of coin on the side. I think all you need is someone to broker the deals and you could live tidy. I can think of plenty.’

‘I sure don’t like your tone. Nor do I like what you’re implying.’

‘I could spell it out but the words I would use may not be suitable for delicate ears.’

Misu seethed. ‘My business is not perverted on the whim of the desperate. You’re not the first to suggest such vulgarities so I will tell you with no room for misinterpretation: I haven’t got this far just waiting for a man to corral us into a better life. We don’t need saving. We don’t need your management. All we need from you, right now, is to get out of the way.’ Misu moved her eyes to his intrusive limb. ‘Now get your damned hand off my train before I remove it myself.’

He shrugged in easy defeat as Misu began to climb the steps to the engine, encouraging the bulk of a man waiting inside to hold his tongue. Ferry was keen to intervene, vocally at that, but was silenced with a sharp swipe of her hand in the air. Instead, the driver returned to checking the various dials and gauges in the engine cabin, ensuring that they were ready for departure though not without a small amount of muttering. This was a colossal waste of everyone’s time and the sooner they left the better.

‘Nothing I could do to make you reconsider?’ the checkpoint hand yelled up to the woman as she issued orders to the driver to prepare to release the brake. The Morning Star gently throbbed into life, puffing out small jets of steam from its chimney.

Misu hung out of the cab to deliver her response. ‘Not in the slightest. Raise the barricade and tell your friend to step aside otherwise he may be pulled under our hefty wheels. We wouldn’t want that now, would we?’

Misu stubbornly brushed past Ferry and yanked on the whistle cord in two sharp bursts, impatient at having to endure any further interruptions. She would set them off herself if she had the knowledge though instead had to wait patiently for Ferry to do what he was paid for. He grunted after letting Misu have her moment before patiently heaving back the throttle and locking it into place.

The barricade was raised with the checkpoint hands waving the Morning Star away and out into the wastelands. Then, and only then, could Misu finally breathe a sigh of relief, but she knew full well that there still was plenty to be concerned about – and time to make up.

Chapter 4

Attempts at small talk

The end carriage of the Morning Star was an observation car. It sported large windows, quite ornately decorated – much like the rest of the train – with walnut panelling, symmetrical bound curtains and flowered glass oil lamps connected to the carriage sides. The observation car was split in half, the first accommodating two lines of large leather chairs with side tables for each. The rear end of the car was domed, with two tiers of windows that provided a splendid panoramic view for those in motion. When in show, it became the locomotive’s smoking lounge.

It was here that Misu tucked herself away.

The windows were lashed with a shock of rain that trailed in thin rivers as they moved at speed. The cloudburst covered the sky in deep greys, built up from the region’s uncompromising heat. When rain fell in Surenth it had a tendency to fall hard and this was no exception. The cool wet breeze wafted through the car’s brass vents. Thankfully the deluge was little consideration to the Morning Star, which puffed on regardless. On the horizon a crack of lightning split the sky, landing somewhere on a hillside, its accompanying boom taking its time to reach the train.

Misu looked both at the window and through it, her eyes sometimes focusing on her reflection that seldom looked as tired as she felt. Quite the opposite in fact. The perfect duplicate seemed to stare back, even when Misu gave the slightest of squints as lightning fell once more.

‘Here you are. I’ve been from one end of the train to the other looking for you. Wait, do my eyes deceive me or are you actually relaxing?’

Misu snapped her attention away from the window as Corinne strolled inside. If it wasn’t for her announcement it was possible that she would have been totally oblivious to the company. Misu gestured to the paperwork on a smoking table beside her chair, accompanied by a plate of cake and a white china cup of pink tea seated on a dainty saucer. ‘Evidently not.’

‘What do you call the sweet, then?’ Corinne seated herself beside Misu in one of the high-backed leather chairs with unusually large armrests. It, and the others in the observation car, held people comfortably upright for taking in the view when the locomotive was in motion. Corinne often likened the chairs to a large hug. A couple of the shorter employees referred to feeling as if they were trying to eat them.

‘I call it a welcome break before the carnage is brought before me.’

‘You’re exaggerating.’

Misu pointed once more to the inch-high pile of paperwork she needed to review before reaching their destination. The train’s manifest was double-checked for accuracy, ensuring their last purchases matched what was on board. It was a painfully numbing experience and no way to entertain a few hours. A single detail out of order could spell disaster when checked, given that it was travelling over territorial borders regularly. The Morning Star could be refused entry, impounded, or worse. She didn’t know exactly how much worse things could get than the train being impounded but Franco once threatened it was somehow possible.

‘Trust me, the Star doesn’t run on kind wishes. There’s plenty to busy myself with.’ She leant forward and took the first portion of the dessert onto a silver fork and placed it into her mouth.

‘And that’s why you’re our manager. It comes with the role.’

Misu breathed through her nose, rolling the cake around with displeasure. It wasn’t terrible by any means, but nowhere up to the quality she had been accustomed to the last few years. It was begrudgingly swallowed and the fork placed upon its accompanying plate.

‘Talking of coming with, I honestly thought Kitty would rejoin us. I miss having a decent cook.’

Corinne took the fork as her own and poked the slice, scrutinizing the uneven wobble.

‘What is that?’

‘Colette’s attempt at coffee cake.’ Misu washed away the taste with some sweet pink tea. ‘Try some.’

Corrine obliged, taking a larger piece and mulling it over. When done, she went for a second. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that.’

‘We have different tastes. Mine are clearly superior.’

Corinne drew the cake plate towards herself. ‘You can’t blame Kitty for deciding not to come along. That restaurant was her life’s dream. It was a perfect package with us working there. Some people settle down and take root like plants. She’s one of them. It would have been cruel to take that away from her.’

‘You’re right. I know.’

‘They’re also not accustomed to seeing dead people stroll in through the door.’ Corinne waved the fork in the air. ‘You both damn well gave us heart attacks.’

‘Actually that wasn’t my idea. That was Franco’s. My suggestion was to do things subtly but he’s not one to take my advice. I remember a few of you needing to sit down.’

‘I remember Kitty bloody fainting! When she came to the poor girl thought she had died. That probably had something to do with her decision to pursue different avenues of employment.’ Corinne laughed with a mouthful, scattering a couple of crumbs. Misu took to the windows once more. The thunder rode through the clouds, making the glass windows shake in their frames.

‘It would have been easier if we died in that explosion. For everybody I mean. I’m not being morbid; it would have just made things … smoother.’

‘Smoother.’

‘Yes.’

Corinne finished the last of the cake and slipped the plate upon the side table, careful not to nudge the papers.

‘I think you should stop envying the dead and focus more on the living. You’ve got a long wait until the Angels take you somewhere bright and you don’t want your talk to speed up that process. I suppose the big man would take objections to that. Talking of which, have you had any word from Franco yet?’

A flash of light danced from the sky, striking the rock-littered wasteland. The rain kept up its barrage. The drumming on the car rooftop built and waned with the will of the wind. It was as if it wanted to lift the vehicle from the tracks and hurl it into the air.

‘Yes.’ Misu’s voice faded as she stared outward. ‘Recently, in fact.’

‘Is he still in Eifera?’

‘See for yourself.’

Misu reached inside her jacket breast pocket and removed a plain envelope with her name upon its face. The single slip of paper was removed. Upon its header was the company logo, a lightning bolt across a mountain surrounded by trees and the name of the provider – Post Haste Communications – in large, capital lettering on either side. Beneath, emboldened and underlined, read the word telegram. A heavy red stamp of authenticity marked the communication. Corinne read the typed document aloud.

TO: THE HARE, BY WAY OF THE MORNING STAR #1129

INSPIRING PLACE FOR PERFORMERS. HAVE PLENTY OF IDEAS RE: MSTAR TO DISCUSS ON RETURN. AM SPENDING TIME IN GOOD COMPANY. GOING WESTWARD WITH NEW FRIENDS. YOUR THOUGHTFULNESS APPRECIATED. NO DATE ON EXPECTED RETURN. GLAD TO HEAR TAKINGS ARE UP. GIVE ALL MY BEST.

F.D.M.

PS: KEEP MSTAR TIDY

‘That’s the last wire I’ve had from him. He said he didn’t know when he was intending to return but told us not to fret. Everything was under control, I said.’ Misu leant her head back in the chair.

‘When did you get this?’ she asked.

‘That last checkpoint we went through.’ Misu glanced to the windows for a second.

Corinne interlinked her hands after placing the telegram to the side. ‘I suppose he’s off having a jolly. Never could keep that one down in one place, but at least he was gracious enough to give you stewardship of this here train. It’s a proud undertaking.’

‘It is,’ Misu muttered. Lightning flashed once more, much closer this time as the Morning Star careered around the edge of the storm. The blazing dart of fire was reflected in her eyes in the window.

‘But I don’t see you smiling,’ Corinne added.

Misu glanced at her, suddenly realizing that she had been well absorbed in her own thoughts, momentarily absent from the conversation. She had even become oblivious to the pounding rain that suddenly rushed into audible focus. She hissed air through her mouth, blinking herself back to reality. She reached out, retrieved the correspondence, and stuffed it back into her pocket.

‘Nobody told me that being bright and shiny was a necessity of the job.’

‘I’m here if you need to delegate more work. Take a break maybe. I’m not blind to you rushing around. I doubt that you’re sleeping well given all this.’ Corinne waved her hand up and down. ‘Even Franco made the sensible decision to take time off. You should consider the same.’

Yes, and look where that got him, Misu thought to herself.

‘I’m not saying traipse away for weeks like he has,’ Corinne continued, ‘but a couple of days’ rest could do you good. We can handle things while you wind down. It wouldn’t be an effort on our part, honest.’

Misu cringed in her seat. A break was what had caused this mess in the first place, unbeknown to the others aboard. It was a lapse in judgement under the guise of rest that was burying her.

‘Even better,’ Corinne exclaimed excitedly, ‘why don’t we join him? We have plenty in the coffers to finance the journey fourfold. We could do shows in Eifera – that’ll be a change of pace. I heard they’re considerably richer northwards and the girls will surely love the change in scenery.’

‘I’ve been there. You’re not missing much.’

‘We haven’t. I only have your word to take on that. Hell, you both spent months up in the grasslands and you’ve never spoken about it. Not even to me.’

‘There’s nothing to talk about,’ Misu lied.

‘Ah now, that I don’t believe. Come on, what happened between you two while we were playing house? All I know is that you took your sparkling new train, went up there, and then came back. There’s a gap, like, this big.’ Corinne held her arms out as wide as she could. ‘I think you owe me a story.’

Under such pressure and if for no other reason than to get Corinne off her back, Misu relinquished the details she craved. Admittedly, it felt therapeutic to discuss but whenever she spoke of Franco, the slightest tone of sullenness entered her voice.

* * *

Franco drew upon his drink until the tumbler ran empty. The night air was humid, filled with a multitude of insects, scores of which decided that the man would make the perfect meal. The night chorus of life was a far departure from the Sand Sea, where mammals silently prowled beneath the blazing moon. Here in the grasslands, things were considerably different. The thickly dressed redwood trees that surrounded them were borderline claustrophobic, hiding all manner of alien creatures that yelped and squealed.

In the Sand Sea, one could look in any direction and see for untold miles. Over the border in Eifera you’d be fortunate to see a single mile down the track, let alone your entire surroundings. It was a good deal colder than they were used to, though tonight was an exception and was stifling, mainly due to the uncomfortable humidity, forcing him to sit shirtless. An owl called out, silencing the panicked screech of something in the forest.

Franco laid cards out before him in lines. Solitaire wasn’t a particular favourite of his, but it wasn’t as if he was concentrating much on the game in hand. A small notebook beside him was half-filled, its pages briefly added to in between turns when inspiration struck. He had done this for the last week since the ideas to further the business had become stagnant. The pages were laden with thoughts on performances, concepts for decorations, lighting, music, design, all of the specifics that one needed to worry about in achieving what the Morning Star was destined to.

Misu staggered through the carriage, her black silk robe loosely tied over one hip, hands rubbing at her eyes. She slumped in the seat opposite, tossing her head back in annoyance. Franco slid over his bottle of spiced rum, filled his tumbler halfway and passed it over. Misu caressed it, taking the occasional sip.

‘Can’t you sleep?’ Franco asked, slipping a red seven of hearts between two black suited cards of ascending and descending value to the one he had included. He ignored her pointing to the half open window beside him.

‘It’s too noisy. How can decent people get any rest out here with that sort of racket? It’s like someone filling a bin with coins. This damn heat too,’ Misu whined, her fingers now violently scratching through unkempt hair. ‘My kingdom for some sleep. Or your kingdom. I would sacrifice every one of these pretty carriages for some shut-eye. Just so you know how desperate I am on that front.’

‘It’s hotter in the Sand Sea.’

‘Yes but it’s so humid out here. I feel like I’m turning into water! You best put a jug underneath me in case I melt for good.’

Franco snorted. ‘It’s too hot for that sort of effort. If the unfortunate event occurs I’ll fetch the mop. You have my word.’

‘Funny, funny bastard.’ She smirked, fanning herself. Her eyes drifted to his game.

‘That’s new. What is it?’

‘Solitaire. Some people call it patience.’ Franco shimmied a card from one stack to another.

‘It looks boring,’ Misu dismissed, wiping her brow before fanning herself with Franco’s notebook.

‘On the contrary. Like its namesake it teaches patience and focus. Most of all, though, it pitches you against the greatest opponent you’ll ever face off against.’

‘Which is …?’

Franco married a red-suited ace into a line for completion.

‘Yourself,’ he stated, finally taking his eyes from the table and watching her wave his notebook back and forth for relief. ‘People weave in and out of a person’s existence. Roles change. A friend can become a nemesis in the blink of an eye. Many believe that your greatest competitor is the one inside. I happen to subscribe to that notion. If you can overcome yourself, then you can take on the world. Also, I need that.’

‘I bet you do.’ She passed the notebook back over, keeping her cheeky smile. ‘For keeping track of your genius no doubt. How long are we up north for? The views are pretty but among getting bitten to pieces by the insects and enduring it raining half the time, its charm is seriously waning. Not that the alone time with you isn’t joyous.’

Franco leant back from his game, quite done with staring at card faces for this evening. ‘We can’t go back as we are. The Gambler’s Den was far too well known and if we just try and perform like nothing’s changed, it’s going to be pretty obvious that you and I, for all intents and purposes, didn’t die. Even your change of hair colour won’t be able to sway that. And that’s the crux of it all.’

He leant forward, sterner, the words quite weighty with seriousness.

‘Wilheim Fort is out there. If it’s all the same I would like him to continue thinking that we are bones in the sand. If he ever thought differently, there’s a chance –’

‘There’s no guesswork here,’ Misu interrupted, now just as serious. Her fingers skimmed the glass lip in circles. ‘He would come for us. He would hunt us down. Be relentless. He’ll do things that you couldn’t possibly imagine.’

‘You think so?’

‘I know so. I was the one who carried those punishments out at times. People who wronged him simply didn’t expect the angle he came from. Friends, family, acquaintances … He’ll know them and he’ll exploit them. They’ll be broken. Then, finally, you’ll be left to rot as an example to others.’

She suddenly blinked in horror, as if quite surprised at her candid confession, a mixture of the alcohol and sleep deprivation loosening her lips.

‘It’s okay,’ Franco stated, swigging again and feeling the light breeze that wafted through the window. ‘We’ve all done things we regret. We change. You’ve changed, clearly. I figure there’s a difference between who a person was and who they are in the present if they desire to change. You’re not that person now, are you?’

* * *

‘Not at all.’ Her eyes scrunched to a close. She was unsure whether this was even the truth. But it sounded good. It sounded like what needed to be said at this time.

‘There you go then.’

Misu paused before speaking what was next on her mind, wondering if it overstepped the mark. She did so anyway, seeing as they had come this far. What was the worst that could happen?

‘Did the thought ever go through your head – and I’m not suggesting anything; I’m just discussing the possibility … You have the train, some money. You don’t have to do the show is what I’m getting at. You could go off and live your life away from the limelight. You have an entirely new one to live, one you’ve earned, free from people like Wilheim doing the things that people like him do. Sometimes I struggle to understand why you would want to jeopardize that. Did you ever consider cashing in this second chance? Leaving all this behind?’

Franco narrowed his eyes and drank again, heavily. ‘Let me answer your question with a question,’ he replied, wagging the bottle. ‘After what happened, why are you still here, with me, aboard this here train? The way I see it you have an opportunity yourself yet you’re squandering it with me. Explain that one.’ He took the bottle to his lips once more.

Misu clasped her hands together in thought. ‘I guess … No, I mean, I …’ She struggled with forming the reason and instead fell on the only words that made any sort of honest sense. ‘I felt compelled. That’s the only way I can describe it.’

More accurately, she sought redemption. She was committed to make amends for the wrongs that her treachery had caused. To the girls. To the train. To him.

Not that she could say that of course. Pride made sure of that.

‘There you go.’ Franco placed the bottle down. ‘I feel compelled too. I don’t question why I’m drawn to this lifestyle. I don’t spend hours analysing it for some grand revelation that will make my life all the more complete. I am compelled, as are you.’

That was all that was said on the matter.

Misu subconsciously twirled her dyed blonde hair around a finger, mulling over the predicament. The Morning Star had to be considerably different. What they did previously was unprecedented, which made things all the more difficult.

‘So what is it that we actually need? Has all this thinking helped you come to a conclusion yet?’

‘We need to be bigger and better,’ Franco confirmed, offering to refill her glass, though she declined by covering it with a hand. In response he took a mouthful from the bottle itself in lieu of a glass. ‘We need to up the ante in every sense. We become unique enough that nobody makes the connection between the Star and the Den. We pride ourselves on our show. Let’s give them the biggest one the Sand Sea has ever known. Bigger fireworks, better performances by those we hire, an occasion to assault the senses! Right now, though, I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something lacking. Something that punctuates the spectacle. We need … we need …’

A fox and its cubs yelped noisily through the bush, their calls totally alien to the pair, who watched them slink through the foliage, orange brush strokes upon a green canvas. The mother fox stared with haunted glowing spheres before continuing onward to their destination.