Mariah Mundi and the Ship of Fools (22 page)

‘Don’t do this!’ Mariah shouted, his words unheard under the deafening sound of the hurricane that now hurtled through the pipes towards him.

The crewman slowly began to disappear down the outlet pipe. His feet began to melt as what was left of the air got hotter and hotter. Beads of sweat trickled down Mariah’s face as a burning wind filled the chamber. The man melted faster as he was sucked away. Then, like a bullet blasted from a gun, there was a sudden explosion and the man disappeared in a cloud of fragmenting ice.

Mariah was thrown towards the outlet pipe. The wind surged around him, lifting him from his feet as if he were straw and pushing him towards the outlet where the crewman had disappeared.
From deep within he could hear the churning of the blades far below. They cut like sabres through the hurricane.

He glanced back as he spun around and around, lifted in a vortex of air. Zane peered into the chamber and laughed as Mariah was sucked into the funnel. The steel sides closed around him. The air rushed by – it pulled at his skin and jowled his face. He thought his eyes would burst. Mariah put his hands out to steady himself as he went deeper and deeper.

There was the sound of crunching and smashing as the steel blades span faster, and Mariah knew what was to come. He stretched out in an attempt to slow himself down. The steel funnel tore against the Spiderweb of his coat. It held fast. Strands of hair were torn from his head by the force of the vacuum. Mariah reached into his pocket and took hold of the pistol. He fought against the wind as he pressed the gun against the metal wall and aimed it at the approaching blades.

Mariah closed his eyes as he pulled the trigger again and again until he had emptied the magazine of all but one last shot. The blades that had cut up the frozen mariner shattered and broke off, spinning down the tube. They splintered, one after another, as the machine disintegrated.

Mariah held fast to the wall as the air slowed to a breeze. He pressed the gun to the metal and fired the last bullet. It burst through the steel. There was a violent hissing like a thousand snakes as the pipe tore open. The Zane Generator groaned like a dying creature without breath. The lights of the
Triton
flickered and then dimmed. Mariah was spat out of the funnel and onto the floor of the engine room. As he lay in a pool of blood and ice, he could hear Zane screaming, screaming to find and kill Mariah Mundi.

S
TILL fleeing Shanjing, Biba stumbled through the hatch door and on to the stage of the Saloon Theatre. It was in complete darkness. The heavy curtain was stretched across the high arch and she could see nothing at all. It was thick, musty black as if she were blind. But unexpectedly she could sense people near. At first she thought it to be Shanjing. Then she realised that whoever was there was all around her.

Biba heard the tap, tap, tapping of impatient feet. Someone pushed her out of the way but said nothing. She heard the tin
kle of beads close to her, and suddenly the curtain opened. Music began to play. Lights burst through the blackness. The audience laughed. She gasped. All around her were dancers. Each was garbed in silver with a tall feather hat and a plumed skirt. They glared at her to leave. Biba looked to the side of the stage. There was Shanjing, hiding in the shadows, waiting for her. He smiled, knowing there was nowhere for her to go.

Biba stood quite still as all about her tall Amazons danced and swirled with grace. They seemed to ignore the girl in the tattered and torn fur coat. Her forlorn smile ebbed as she peered at the laughing faces of the men in the first three rows
who shouted and sneered as the band played on. A man to her right, standing in the wings, shouted at her. His words died in the sound of thumping feet and shrill violins.

‘Get off! Now!’ he said again as she stood petrified by the limelit faces.

‘This way, Biba …’ Shanjing said, taunting her.

No one seemed to be able to see him. He had wrapped himself in the stage curtain, with only the leather skin of his face visible. His red eyes appeared to glow in the crisp white light as he cackled like a miniature madman. Then with no warning and not caring as to his revelation, he sprang from the curtain to the stage.

It was as if the devil had appeared. The dancers, who had seen Shanjing as a puppet in the arms of Charlemagne every night, screamed.

‘He’s alive,’ shouted one as she threw her feather boa to the floor, turned and dived into the audience.

The effect of his appearance as a sentient creature was dramatic. The orchestra stopped playing, threw down their instruments and ran. Shanjing became more excited. It was as if he no longer cared.

‘You are going to die!’ he screamed as they fled. ‘All of you … You shall play as the ship sinks.’

The audience surged from their seats, screaming. They tipped tables and chairs as they ran to the doors. They too believed that Shanjing had been transformed from a mannequin to a man. Just as Biba dived from the stage a passenger pulled a small dandy pistol from his pocket and fired at Shanjing. The bullet bounced off his coat and fell to the floor like a squashed fly. The sight of Shanjing repelling the bullet added to the terror. As a cacophony of horrified screams filled the theatre, Shanjing stood on the stage like an old master and held his arms in the air as if he were about to part the sea.

‘Get the Captain,’ shouted a man. ‘The doll is possessed!’

‘Possessed?’ asked Shanjing as he looked at the terrified man. ‘It shall be you who is possessed – possessed by fear as you see the
Triton
sinking beneath your feet and the ocean biting with icy teeth at your body.’

The man fainted with fear. He fell back against a small table, knocking the candle to the floor. Biba tried to hide as the mannequin paced the stage looking for her. The audience ran in terror from the theatre, trampling one another to get through the doors. They howled and screamed as Shanjing barked prophe
cies from the stage like a dog at the Wailing Wall.

‘It is meant to be … I am Shanjing – a man, not a puppet!’ Shanjing screamed at them as they fled. ‘Listen! Listen to me!’

Biba slid quietly to the side of the room. She hid by the stairway door behind the abandoned instruments of the orchestra. The room emptied quickly and Shanjing stood silently with no one to listen to him. His curses became a whisper until he was finally silent.

Biba slowly turned the handle and opened the door. If the ship was designed like the
Ketos
, she knew she would be able to slip through the door, go down several flights of stairs and come to the circus. From there, she knew she could get the steam elevator back to Deck 13. Her hands felt stiff, her fingers were cold and numb with fear. She could see the shadow of Shanjing stretching across the floor, lit by the limelight candles. Faces stared in through the round glass windows in the saloon doors. No one dared enter. She could hear the crowds outside. Shanjing lowered his arms and nodded his head very slowly. It was as if he were listening to a silent voice telling him what to do.

‘Yes, yes, that’s it,’ he said over and over. ‘I know what will be …’ Shanjing turned his head towards where she was hiding as if he had been told where she was. ‘Biba – come out.’

Biba turned the handle further and opened the stairway door as quietly as she could. Crowds pressed against the entrance to the saloon, trying to peer in to see what Shanjing would do next. Biba slipped slowly into the blackness of the stairwell and closed the door behind her.

There was a loud crash as the wooden door split and a juggler’s spear flew past her face. It had burst through the door, sending shards and splinters into the air. The spear cut through her fur coat, pushing her back. Biba screamed with surprise.

Without thinking she turned and with one hand slipped the latch of the door. It was just in time. Small hands pulled against the handle on the outside. She could hear Shanjing yelling dementedly.

‘I’ll have to kill you – it is a matter of principle!’ Shanjing screamed.

Again there was a splintering of wood as another spear smashed through the door. Biba ducked down as it shot above her head and wedged itself in the opposite wall of the narrow landing.

‘Leave me be!’ she shouted instinctively, as if ridding herself of a demon inside.

‘I am Shanjing,’ said the voice as if it were to take her soul. ‘I cannot do that …’

Biba slipped quickly under the shaft of the spear and ran down the dark stairway. She could hear the churning of the ship’s engines. The sound seemed different, slower, laboured, as if they struggled to turn and turn.

Behind her, small hands beat against the door. She knew it was Shanjing. He beat his fists against the door and Biba feared it would give way. She ran further into the gloom. The wall lights were dim, faint and dying. They cast shadows along the corridors and dimmed the sound of her running. Her fur coat
caught on a doorway. She pulled, and the coat tore as she ran on. From far away she heard the door open and then close quickly.

She knew Shanjing was now behind her in the relentless chase. Biba ran faster, desperate to get to the circus and then to the steam elevator. She hoped there would be people. They would protect her. But something made her worry, a nagging feeling in her heart that told her Shanjing now cared nothing about what he would do. The secret of him being alive would be about the ship. In her mind she could see him being hunted and chased just as she was.

The hatch to the circus soon came. Biba had run and run until her lungs were bursting and she could run no more. She sobbed, knowing he was behind her. In her heart she wanted to give up, to sit down where she was in the darkness and allow herself to be caught. It was pointless, she thought as she opened the door. He would find her.

The door to the circus opened easily. She could smell the animals and sawdust but when she looked all was dark, empty and silent. No one was there. Biba closed the door and spun the wheel on the hatch as tightly as she could. Her mind raced, wondering where everyone had gone.

‘Mr Blake … Mr Blake,’ she said in a loud whisper, hoping he would be at the door where he always was.

‘Biba,’ came a voice from the darkness. ‘I thought you would come here …’

It was as if the words were icy hands that gripped her tightly. Shanjing was close by. Biba could sense him near to her. She stood silently waiting. It was as if she knew he would pounce from the darkness like a cat.

‘Come on then, Shanjing. I can run no more,’ she said loudly, out of breath, her voice trembling angrily. ‘Here and now. I will fight you here and now.’

A sudden breeze lifted the sawdust about her feet. Biba stumbled forward.

‘I know you are near,’ said Shanjing as if he were close by.

Biba edged her hand along the side of the tiger cage. She could hear the creature sleeping in the compartment at the far end.

‘Rollo,’ she whispered quietly. ‘Rollo …’

The tiger purred as it stirred in its dark-eyed sleep. She knew it to be Rollo. Eduardo the man-eater was deaf and couldn’t hear her calling.

‘The tiger won’t protect you,’ Shanjing said from inside the cage. ‘I am already here and he is nothing but a pussy cat.’

The voice was in her face – then a hand darted from the blackness like a shadow and took hold of her hair. It pulled her to the cage. Biba dropped instinctively to the floor. Shanjing lost his grip as she screamed. Biba ran and found the steps of the next cage. She slid the catch from the door and slipped inside. Trying to hold her laboured and fearful breath, she waited in the darkness.

There was the sound of the striking of a tinderbox. A light burnt in the darkness. Shanjing stood outside the cage. In each hand was a juggler’s knife with a burning handle. He held them by the tips of the blades as he waved them back and forth. By his feet were several more burning knives, neatly stacked upon the juggler’s rack.

‘Do you think I am mad enough to follow you into Eduardo’s cage?’ he asked. ‘That beast is still chomping on the bones of Max Arras. I am only a breakfast morsel for one so great as Eduardo.’

Shanjing spun the blades as if he had done it countless times before. They burnt circles of fire in the darkness and illuminated the man-mannequin like a ghost. He laughed as he stopped, flicked one knife in the air, caught it and then threw it at the
cage. It slammed into the trailer board like a fiery razor. The knife dripped fire to the floor below.

‘Come out, Biba … The cat will wake and eat you,’ Shanjing taunted her as he prepared to throw another knife.

‘I would rather be eaten alive than allow you to kill me.’ Biba shrieked in fear as Shanjing threw another blade. It spun like a fire-wheel and slammed into the wood. The knife juddered the cage. Eduardo the tiger growled in his sleep.

‘Then I shall wake the beast and watch in my delight,’ he scoffed as he picked up another blade from the ivory stand.

Then another voice – ‘Biba! Biba!’ – as the far doors opened and Mariah rushed in.

Biba turned. Mariah stood by the door of the circus. The burning knives cast long shadows that flickered and danced across the roof.

‘Shanjing is here – beware!’ She shouted the warning as Mariah ran across the circus ring towards her. Biba turned. Shanjing was gone.

‘Where is he?’ shouted Mariah. ‘We must go. Lorenzo Zane and Ellerby are searching for me. Zane tried to kill me.’

‘Zane?’ cried Biba as the tiger growled loudly.

‘Stop there!’ Shanjing shouted as he appeared from under a tiger cage carrying a flaming knife. ‘I will happily kill you, Mariah Mundi.’

‘You should stick to sitting in the laps of old men, Shanjing. You’ll never get off this ship,’ Mariah said as he walked slowly towards him.

‘You are either brave or foolish, Mariah Mundi.’ Shanjing threw the knife, just missing Mariah. Then he was gone, disappearing yet again into the darkness.

‘Get out of the cage,’ Mariah shouted to Biba. ‘We have to get to Deck 13 before Zane finds me.’

Biba edged her way to the door of the tiger cage. She pushed
on it and it opened slowly. Eduardo growled in his sleep. He was old and tired and although he looked much younger, his twenty years had taken their toll upon him.

‘I can’t see Shanjing,’ she said as Mariah walked towards her, still wary of the dwarf ’s presence somewhere nearby.

As she stepped from the cage, a hand grabbed her leg. It gripped her tightly, taking her off balance and pulling her through the gap in the steps. Biba screamed as she fell. Mariah ran to her. Shanjing leapt into his path. He kicked at Mariah and knocked him to the floor. There was a dull thud and Mariah groaned as blood trickled from his ear. Shanjing appeared at the foot of the steps as Biba struggled to her feet.

‘I suggest you come with me,’ he said calmly as if it were a pleasant invitation.

Biba scrambled backwards. She pulled open the cage door and crawled in.

‘I won’t go with you,’ she said, sobbing and hoping Mariah would wake.

‘Then you leave me no choice,’ Shanjing said as he climbed the steps towards her and began slowly to untie the leather mask from his face. ‘I want you to see – need you to see – who I really am.’

Eduardo groaned sleepily in the hutch at the back of the cage. Shanjing stepped inside and took off his mask.

‘It is a shame Mariah Mundi cannot see this as I am sure he will recognise me.’

Biba stared at the grotesque face of the man-mannequin. The only part untouched by flame were his eyes. The burnt skin was crinkled like a crocodile’s, tightly stretched and translucent over the bones. Small pulsing veins ran across the cheeks of a face that had no lips.

‘Who did that to you?’ Biba asked in horror as she crawled further from him.

‘I was left for dead,’ Shanjing said as he dropped the mask to the floor and took the gloves from his hands. ‘Come with me Biba – this is not the right place.’

Biba looked to Mariah. In the faint glow of the tallowed knives she could see him slumped on the ground. He didn’t move. She looked to the floor, knowing her eyes would give away the secret thought that came to her.

‘Very well,’ she said as she got to her feet and held out her hand to Shanjing. ‘Just help me …’

Shanjing reached out to her. Biba took his hand. She felt the dryness of the burnt fingers against her skin.

‘You know it has to be this way?’ Shanjing asked in a melancholic way.

‘Yes,’ she said slowly as she tightened her grip on his fingers and stared at the floor of the cage. ‘This way and no other.’