Mariah Mundi and the Ship of Fools (20 page)

‘I was talking in my sleep,’ she said.

‘But –’ Mariah began and then stopped as he saw her gesture for him to be silent. He felt as though he was being watched.

‘Vikash should not tell tales. I am quite all right – no one could hurt me here,’ she said angrily as she opened her eyes widely and looked to the door. ‘I think you should go and let me sleep. You always do this to me. Lozzy would let me sleep. Go away, Mariah.’

‘Well, I will – I’ll leave you to it then,’ Mariah said as he stepped back and closed the door behind him.

The room fell dark again. Shanjing stepped from the shadows behind the door.

‘Well done,’ he whispered as he took another pace. ‘Just what I –’

The door flew open. Shanjing was knocked from his feet towards the bed. The light from the corridor fell on his face.

‘Shanjing!’ screamed Mariah. ‘It was you …’

Shanjing jumped to his feet and brandished the knife.

‘Mariah Mundi – meddlesome Mariah Mundi,’ he said as he danced towards him, kicking out as he spun on his toes.

The knife glanced across Mariah’s chest. The Spiderweb held fast. Shanjing leapt at him once more and struck out
again. Mariah felt the stab in his side. The dwarf pushed him out of the way as he ran for the door. Footsteps came down the corridor in answer to Mariah’s scream.

‘Shanjing!’ yelled Charity. ‘Vikash, quickly …’

Shanjing leapt from the room with Mariah close behind. He turned and slashed at Mariah again. Mariah kicked at his hand, knocking the knife to the floor. Charity ran towards them and Shanjing took flight, running as fast as he could.

‘Steam elevator,’ Charity screamed as Vikash appeared from his room as the dwarf ran towards him.

‘Don’t stop me, Vikash,’ Shanjing screamed. ‘It’ll be more than your face which is scarred …’

Vikash stood his ground. Shanjing charged him, followed by Mariah and Charity gaining ground. Shanjing reached into his pocket as he ran and threw a handful of dust towards Vikash. As it touched the floor it exploded in bright blue sparks that hissed and smoked. It stank of sulphur and hogweed. Smoke billowed from the carpet as if it were ablaze and Vikash grasped his throat, choking on the fumes. In the pall of acrid smoke as thick as a London fog, Shanjing vanished.

‘Get Biba from her room,’ Vikash coughed as the burning tears poured from his eyes. ‘She cannot be left alone.’

Mariah returned to the room. Biba was gone.

F
ROM the sound of the engine, Biba knew she was far below Deck 13. Wherever she was being held prisoner, it was dark, warm and smelt of roast nutmeg. How she had got there was a complete blur. She could vaguely remember stumbling out of her door through a cloud of smoke. It was as if she was part of a flamboyant magician’s trick – Biba felt that she had been magicked from her bed. There was a memory of her eyes burning, then she could remember falling through a small doorway and down a tunnel. From then, she had stumbled along a narrow black corridor until she had felt a door close behind her. She knew she had slept for some time, but was not sure as to how long.

Biba opened her eyes, fearful of what she might see. Her hands and feet were tied and her mouth was bandaged with a rough gag that cut into her face. Her makeshift bed was made of hessian sacks stuffed with silk. In the dim light the shadows of the room pressed in on her. Hanging from the walls were countless masks. She had seen them before – they had been used by the dancers on the
Ketos
and transferred when her father had bought the
Triton
. There too were the costumes and
props from the magician’s performance. There was a stuffed donkey that would explode to reveal the magician’s assistant. Next to that were the empty cages for the pigeons. From this she realised she must be in a theatrical store. In its own way the room was quite alluring, everything having been laid out and arranged for beauty rather than convenience.

In her memory Biba had a vague recollection that she had been brought here by Shanjing. It was as if she had woken from an interrupted dream. All that had taken place was disjointed, mixed up, and somehow out of time. Biba could not stop asking herself why she was there. She wondered what curse was upon her family that her parents should be sent off in a balloon and she herself captured by an obviously mad mannequin.

It was not long after waking that Biba heard the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside. They were gentle and light, almost a dance. She knew it to be Shanjing.

The door opened slowly. Shanjing looked into the room.

‘Sleeping?’ he asked with a smile. ‘Shanjing has brought you some food.’

Biba stared at him and grunted a reply.

‘I will take off the mask – please don’t scream, no one will hear you and it will just hurt my ears,’ Shanjing joked as he put down a small bag and raised stiff little fingers to his face.

‘Why?’ she asked as she gasped heavily.

‘Always why,’ he replied. ‘If you had come to see me instead of jumping on the lifeboat then you would have known why. Instead you run off with Mariah Mundi and get into trouble.’ Shanjing sounded like a concerned aunt. ‘Sometimes it is better for you not to know what is the reason for things.’

Shanjing sat on a sack in front of her and stared at her for a moment. Biba stared back at him. ‘You’ve kidnapped me and I didn’t want to be kidnapped. I’ve just lost my parents so who’ll pay a ransom anyway?’ she asked.

‘Ransom?’ Shanjing asked as he rubbed his leathery face. ‘I have brought you biscuits and scones and – a sandwich,’ he said as he made them appear from the bag like magic. ‘If I were to untie your hands, you wouldn’t try to hurt me, would you?’

Biba nodded as she tried to scowl at him. She was hungry. Whatever he had used to make her fall asleep had left her feeling ravenous. ‘I promise,’ she heard herself saying reluctantly.

Shanjing untied her hands and offered her a buttered scone. She took it and ate it quickly. It was the first time she had seen the mannequin so clearly. She hadn’t realised before that what covered his face was not skin but an intricate mask. Made of the finest leather without a stitch visible, it formed to the contours of his face and circled his lips. It was obvious that these had been painted with red lead to cover the join twixt skin and leather. It was the same with his eyes. They were outlined in jet-black kohl.

Shanjing realised that Biba was looking at his face as she greedily ate the scone.

‘I thought you would wonder what I am,’ he said slowly. ‘People don’t usually see me this closely.’

‘I knew you weren’t a mannequin. I saw you walking late one night when you performed on the
Ketos
,’ she said as she finished a mouthful of food and picked a sandwich from the bag.

‘I wasn’t sure I had been discovered. It is hard to spend your life in a wooden box. Charlemagne is not the best of company. After all, how much can you talk about with someone from Wigan?’ Shanjing asked.

‘So it was all pretence, everything. Even the mind reading?’ Biba asked.

‘Not everything. It is true I am not a mannequin. But I can see the future – well, sometimes,’ he replied.

‘Have you always worn a leather mask?’ Biba asked.

‘Not always,’ he said as if the thought were a sad memory. ‘You would not wish to see what is beneath. The mask protects me – but it also protects you.’

Biba thought for a moment, wondering if she should take the question further. Shanjing sat cross-legged on the hessian sack. He seemed to be no threat to her, nor to wish her harm – or so it seemed as they broke bread.

‘How did you get that way?’ Biba asked eventually when she had been silent long enough for it to become uncomfortable.

‘It was an accident – an explosion. My face is badly burned. The scars have not yet healed.’ Shanjing touched the mask and then held out his hands. ‘That is why I wear gloves. This is a necessity and not a disguise. My ailment caused me to leave my old life. I had a very wealthy employer, an American, until this happened to me …’

Biba felt she could ask him no more. She could sense from his voice that he was still pained by the memory.

‘And this is where you have been living? It’s a beautiful place,’ she said as she looked around the ornate storeroom.

‘It was the same on the
Ketos
. I had a hiding place there also. I was on my way to it when you saw me. I love beautiful things and the theatre is a place of great beauty.’

‘So will you let me go?’ she asked abruptly, her words not fitting with the conversation.

Shanjing stood up and brushed the front of his silk robes. He stood out of arm’s reach and leant against the door as if ready to escape.

‘Would you like the truth?’ he asked.

‘Of course,’ Biba replied.

‘Your parents are gone. It had nothing to do with me,’ he insisted, ‘but because of that things have changed. If they are dead then you are one of the richest girls in the world. If you are dead then Casper Vikash will be one of the richest men.’

‘Casper?’ asked Biba quite surprised. ‘Why should my death make him rich?’

‘He will inherit everything. Casper Vikash is your brother – didn’t you know?’ Shanjing giggled as if he enjoyed breaking the news to her.

‘
Brother?
’ asked Biba furiously. ‘How?’

‘How else do we have brothers, sisters, birds, bees?’ replied Shanjing mockingly as he rubbed his leather chin. ‘It is well known – and has even been heard from your father’s lips. Casper Vikash is your half brother. There is a document in the Bank of Paris. It explains everything. It is signed by your father. A deed of trust, or should I say
mistrust
?’

Biba sighed and lay back against the sack. Suddenly everything made sense. No mere servant would be so loyal to their master. No servant would risk their lives so often. No servant would have been so kind to her.

‘He would read me stories as a child. When mother was busy.’ Biba paused. ‘I feared a monster under my bed. Casper would always look underneath for me and tell me there was nothing hiding. Now I realise why he was so kind.’

Shanjing squealed as if in pain. Biba saw his eyes change. They burned blood red and were full of anger.

‘Kind?’ he asked venomously. ‘Kind? I intend to ask him if he wants me to kill you. Don’t you realise with you out of the way he gets every penny of your father’s great wealth? Strange, isn’t it, that your parents should be cast adrift in a balloon leaving you alone on a ship like this. Casper Vikash will either pay for you dead or pay to have you kept alive. Either way I will be rich.’ Shanjing stopped and looked thoughtfully at her. ‘I think I will make it cheaper for him to have you killed rather than kept alive. That way you will see if he really is a loving brother.’

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 …’