Mariah Mundi (16 page)

He leant into a shadow and listened warily, then snuffed out the candle and placed the holder upon the step before striding out to the stairway. Mariah couldn’t look back. He grabbed the door to the stairs and rushed through, keeping his eyes to the dimly lit floor for fear of seeing anything other than carpet and stone. Taking the steps two at a time he ran as fast as he could until he reached the top landing and the door to his room. The steam elevator chugged higher, hissing and bibbing as it drew near. He pushed the door and quickly stepped into the moonlit room. The he took the chair and pressed it against the door handle so that it could not be opened from the outside.

Mariah sighed as the moon beat in at the window, having scattered the clouds and sea mist. The door to the steam elevator rattled open and then came the scraping steps that he had heard before. Slowly and stealthily they took the three laborious paces from the open lift to his room. He waited, expecting to hear a knock or tap at the door. Mariah could feel the presence of someone outside.
Isambard Black
, he thought to himself as he stepped to the bed and sat on the coarse blanket.

The door handle slowly turned. Someone pushed against the door. Mariah saw the wood move in the frame. He jumped back further on the bed, grabbing the rough pillow and clutching it to his chest. The door moved again. The handle turned faster. He looked to the window, thinking of a way to escape. A gentle tap, tap knocked against the wood. He couldn’t speak, his voice frozen.

‘Mariah,’ came a whisper. ‘Mariah, let me in …’

He didn’t reply. Then there was a sudden kick against the door and the chair fell from its place, releasing the handle. Slowly and forcefully the door was pushed open and the chair
brushed to one side, scraping across the boarded floor. Mariah clutched the privy pot that was by the bedside, holding it by its thin handle, ready to strike at whatever creature came upon him.

‘Mariah,’ came the voice again. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to return …’

A cloud crossed the moon like a thin black blade as a figure stepped into the room. Mariah looked up as he drew back his arm ready to strike –

‘Sacha?’ he asked as he stared at the dark shape before him. ‘Is it you?’

‘’Tis I,’ she said as she struck the match and lit the lamp by the door. ‘Where have you been? I got rid of my father and came straight here. Been waiting by the back door for ages and you never came. I met Isambard Black and he told me he’d seen you in the theatre so I came to your room. Surprised to see me?’

‘Surprised?’ he said quickly. ‘Sight for sore eyes. When you went, I was chased by the Kraken – found by Captain Charity – met a crocodile – and then Isambard Black appeared and then vanished again. Not the most normal of evenings, I would say.’

‘So you met Cuba. She’s nothing but a big lap dog. He found her on the beach, you know,’ Sacha said, hoping to fill in any gaps left by Charity. ‘And the Kraken, you say?’

‘It’s real, Sacha. I’ve seen it with my own eyes.’

‘So says many a man on a Friday night on the way from the Three Mariners,’ she said curtly as she brushed the dark hair from her eyes.

Mariah told her every detail of the night. Fried fish, Mister Grimm and the meeting with Charity. He showed her the coin in his pocket with its worn face and clipped corners and how the Kraken had attacked.

‘The trouble is … the trouble is,’ he said slowly as he
reached under the bed, ‘I felt more fearful of Isambard Black than the Kraken. It was as if it wanted to speak to me and do me no harm. Black wants something,’ he said, looking nervously around the room. He reached for the box of Panjandrum cards that he had hidden. ‘I think he knows I have
these
.’ Mariah held out his hand. Resting on his palm and glowing in the moonlight was the pack of cards, still neatly enclosed in the box. The Joker stared out, his eyes glowing softly as from inside the box a hidden light glowed through them.

‘A fine and fancy deck of poker cards,’ Sacha replied as she stared at the pack of playing cards, the golden braid that encircled the box shining boldly with an incandescent light.

T
WO dirt-black chairs were jammed against the door, their spindly legs pressed into the hard wood of the planked floor that ran seamlessly from wall to wall. Against them was wedged the small cupboard with its bowl and wash pot, full to the brim with cold water, all wrapped in a threadbare towel. The last part of the barricade was the bed, which now spanned the narrow room like the spar of a metal bridge, squashing everything tightly against itself. Sacha peered over Mariah’s shoulder as he knelt in the firelight and unpacked the Panjandrum from the safety of the taut box. The cards were wrapped in a stiff piece of white paper, neatly folded at each corner like the pleats on a well-made bed. He slipped his finger beneath the flattened red wax seal and slowly folded back the wrapper. It burst open with a sudden crack, giving out a shower of tiny blue sparks and filling the room with the musty odour of old damp books. On the inside of the paper was a fine line drawing of a tower of cards, each one placed against the other until it formed a tall column. To one side was a list of instructions, giving the name of each card and how they were to be placed together. 

Mariah looked up at Sacha. She nodded to tell him to go on, the flickering of the flames dancing across her face as she tried to read the dark etched words that glowed through the folded paper. She pressed one hand against the cold damp wall, her palm sinking into the pattern of the paper as she looked on.

‘Is it a game?’ she asked quietly, looking at the heavy drops of rain that fell from the clear sky like crystals of fine ice tapping gently upon the panes.

Mariah said nothing as one by one he placed the cards together, following the plan written out before him. Each piece of crisp card clicked firmly to another, as if they were waiting to be joined together and by some strange means became one solid piece. King followed Knave, wands linked with pentacles, as quickly each suit came together until the tower grew and grew in the firelight. Finally, Mariah held the last two cards in his hands and stared at the crossed-eyed Jokers. One smiled back, the other grimaced with one eye closed and a hand placed over his mouth as if he would never speak.

Sacha tapped Mariah on the shoulder to bring him from his dream and finish the tower that was now twelve cards in height. He placed the Jokers on each side of the final span, their faces staring to each wall as he sat back and looked at the tower that sat firmly upon the wooden floor.

It was then that a tremor shook the hotel. It rattled the whole of the Prince Regent, juddering the steam elevator, sending a shower of dust cascading from the ceiling. The window of the room rattled in the frame, then cracked across the glass pane as if twisted too far. The tower of cards didn’t move. Mariah looked at Sacha and then to the scrawled commands etched in the paper. He read the words, which looked as if they had just appeared on the page. ‘
Once the tower is complete – then
amaze your audience with its magical fortuities. Chi – Samekh –
 
Digamma
.’ Mariah read the words aloud in one long breath with a voice that came from another place.

There came the faint sound of whispering. Sacha looked about her, sure that the voices came from outside the room and that the barricade would not hold against whoever was upon them. She looked to Mariah, hoping he could hear the shy murmurs that irked her soul and spoke gentle whispers from the high corners of the room.

‘Can you hear …?’ she said as the muttering grew louder in her mind.

‘
Chi – Samekh – Digamma …
’ Mariah said again as if he hadn’t heard a single word. He sat spellbound by the miniature but spectacular event taking place before him.

‘Where is it coming –?’ she shrieked as the clamour vibrated in her head.

‘Don’t say a word,’ Mariah said, his face fixed in a deep stare as the Panjandrum burst into life and began to hover above the floorboards. ‘Sacha … Take my hand,’ he murmured as if he could see something in the cards. The tower spun faster and faster, each card blurring into the others as the manifestation whirled in the deep firelight, sparking with every turn. ‘Can you see it?’

Sacha stared, unsure that she should believe her eyes. ‘It’s a trick,’ she said quickly, not wanting to believe what she saw. ‘Just like what Bizmillah would have done.’

‘Not a trick,’ Mariah said, his stare fixed upon the spinning cards. ‘This is more like magic. Now I know why Perfidious Albion gave them to me. Look!’ He gasped as the tower unfolded to form a living, framed depiction of jostling images. It glittered and sparked as each card melted and transformed into a single image. There, unfurled before them, was a London street made up of tiny fragments of the Panjandrum. They swirled and changed with every second to form a moving picture in
which dark figures walked back and forth. Striding boldly along the pavement was Perfidious Albion, who pulled his collar up against the driving rain, his floppy hat tugged across his face. The bright sign of Claridges Hotel lit the scene, as close by two men followed on behind, trailed by a hansom cab, its horse decked in funeral black plumes and a rain-wet running coat.

The Panjandrum raised itself higher into the air as the scene began to change. Inside the frame of spinning cards, Perfidious Albion stepped upon the stone threshold of the entrance to the hotel. In his hand Mariah could see the postcard that he had sent, the painting of the Prince Regent twisted in his grip. Without warning, the dark-clad followers that lurked behind grabbed Perfidious roughly by the arms and lifted him from his feet. Turning him to the road, they bundled him quickly into the awaiting carriage. There in the corner of the picture, lurking as if not wanting to be seen, was a grey-faced figure who brushed the steps with what appeared to be a long black broom. When Sacha and Mariah stared even harder into the picture they saw the man begin to walk the pavement, and here and there as he went along he tapped a rain-soaked pedestrian gently upon their forehead with the tip of a long gnarled finger. With every unseen touch he left behind a blood-red mark that set them aside from those passers-by who went on their way unchosen.

‘What is it?’ Sacha asked, more intrigued at the spectacle than frightened by its miraculous appearance.

‘Whatever it is, it’s wrong – I can feel it. This shouldn’t be happening,’ Mariah replied, and he edged further away from the Panjandrum as they spun into another scene. ‘We have to stop it.’

‘Stop it?’ Sacha replied. ‘This is amazing. Look, Mariah – who would have thought, moving pictures.’

‘But Perfidious Albion, what happened to him?’

‘Doesn’t mean it was true, could be a trick of the cards,’ she argued.

‘He had the postcard I sent to him, I saw it in his hand.’

It was then that three dark letters edged in bright gold appeared in the corner of the shimmering card frame. In the soft glow from the fire they spoke the letters together as a word appeared: ‘
A – S –K
’.

‘It wants us to ask something, Mariah. What shall we say?’ Sacha spoke quickly, her heart excited as she fumbled her words.

‘Say nothing, I don’t like it. It’s not good,’ Mariah cut back quickly, not knowing how to stop the cards from performing their trickery.

‘You’re just a stupid boy frightened of his own shadow. If it is a trick, it’ll do us no harm. If it can see the future than we have something that’ll make us rich …’

‘Rather die poor than have this chasing me forever. It can’t be good – it’s not right.’

‘Right or wrong, it’s dancing before our eyes and it wants us to ask it a question.’ Sacha thought for a moment and tried to edge Mariah out of the way of the cards that danced before them. ‘Is Felix alive?’ she blurted before Mariah could stop her.

The Panjandrum shuddered. One by one the cards fell from the air and landed in a neat and growing pile on the floor. A final card hovered above the floorboards as if suspended by an invisible piece of string or magician’s charm. Mariah wafted his hand above the card, hoping it would snag against that which caused it to dance in the air. And then the deck burst into life – several cards leapt from the floor, chasing each other higher into the room like a flock of geese that circled the ceiling. More and more began to dance this way and that, like an army brought to life, before they too leapt high in the air and flew to become one large mass that blanketed the ceiling.

Mariah looked up: it was as if the night sky had crept inside the room and pinned itself to the coving of the lime-plastered roof above. Deep blue stars twinkled and winked brightly, and a glowing moon slowly crossed the firmament. Then, without any call or expectation, all grew dark again. The far side of the ceiling began to glow with a bright red light. Steam billowed crisp and white as far away a young boy took shape, one of many hunched and sweating in a long dark hole, the floor strewn with a covering of milky pearl-stones. From beneath a mantel of matted hair, two bleary, tired eyes stared out as blue, bloodless lips mouthed silent words.

‘It’s Felix!’ Sacha shouted. She leapt to her feet and jumped towards the apparition above her. ‘I can see you Felix – you’re alive.’ The boy didn’t reply; his stare was fixed, lips mumbling, deaf to her words. ‘Where are you?’ she asked impatiently, her voice whining.

The words jarred with Mariah. He saw from her eyes that she thought the boy to be special, and that in some way he occupied a sincere place in her heart. ‘He’s a million miles away from here, can’t you see?’ he shouted back at her as he pushed her away. ‘I want this to stop. Felix is dead and this is a lie. Look at him – sat on a bed of pearls and looking half starved. If that isn’t a wicked trick of these cards then what is? Should never have taken them from Perfidious Albion. I want them to stop, NOW!’

‘Tell me where he is,’ Sacha said urgently, ignoring Mariah as she spoke to the cards. ‘
Please
,’ she pleaded. ‘TELL ME!’

‘NO! Stop it now!’ Mariah shouted above her as he pushed her out of the way. ‘We don’t want to know. Felix is gone. Never to be found.’

The cards twisted their shape, imploding with each second to the shape of a golden orb that pressed closer and closer.

‘It’ll crush us,’ Sacha shouted as Mariah dived to the floor and scrambled to find the box of instructions.

‘Stand back and say nothing more,’ he shouted, and he rolled under the bed with one hand clutching the sheet of paper.

Sacha stood alone. The orb hovered in front of her, sparking blue and gold flecks of bright light that danced like the candles on a Christmas tree. Through the thin veneer of gold, she looked down upon the world as if she were a swirling corbie, brooding from its nest. Far below she could see the sunlit rooftops of the Prince Regent. As if cracked like a gigantic egg, the building was split open as floor by floor was revealed to her eyes. She was taken deeper and deeper. Spiralling down, she circled until the black rocks of the deep foundations opened up before her. There, nestling in the hollow earth, was a dark cavern, the floor littered with oyster shells and creamy droplets of pearl, and in a sunken corner was a gathering of children, huddled together as a dark beast flicked its scaled tail back and forth, swishing a rain of sparkling shingle.

From beneath the shielding of the bed, Mariah clung to the commands that were etched in black upon the sheet of paper he had plucked from the floor. It struggled and twisted to free itself from his grip as if it had a mind not to be read. The black etching now appeared to smear itself within the paper, each word slowly beginning to smudge beyond recognition. Quickly he came to the final three words that faded before his eyes: ‘Za-yin – Za-yin – Za-yin!’ He shouted them aloud as they melted out of sight.

A crack of lightning cut through the air to the heart of the orb. The vision exploded, throwing Sacha against the wall as she still stared deep into its heart. The Panjandrum fell from the air, the cards scattered like gale-blown leaves across the floor.

Mariah heard her muffled scream and looked up from his hiding place. Sacha struggled to gain her breath as the Joker smothered her nose and mouth, clinging to the contours of her
face like a grasping hand. Several cards held her tight against the wall, piercing her clothes and pinning her to the plaster as if they were a conjuror’s daggers. Her arms were tethered tightly, locked by a cluster of cards on each wrist that shackled them to her. He could see the life draining from her as she fought against the smothering, her lungs about to explode.

Like a springing cat he jumped to his feet and pulled at the Joker. It melted through his fingers, sticking to Sacha’s face, squeezing her mouth firmly shut. Mariah saw a look of panic radiating from her eyes. She began to slump down the wall, held only by the embedded suit of Spades that stuck her like iron nails to the wall. He pulled at the Joker again. It stuck to his fingers, holding his hand fast against her skin.

‘Za-yin – Za-yin – Za-yin!’ he shouted again and again as he tugged at the card with his other hand. Sacha’s eyes rolled to the back of her head and she slumped forward, unable to breath, her lungs crushing her heart as the veins in her soft white neck visibly pulsed with its penultimate beat. ‘Za-yin – Za-yin – Za-yin!’ he screamed the command, pulling frantically against the liquefying card.

With a sudden and ear-splitting squeal, Sacha gulped at the air. Mariah fell back towards the small fireplace, his hand clasping the now stiffened Joker. It grinned at him, teeth clenched and eyebrows raised. One after the other the suit of Spades fell from their holding places and tiny spirals of plaster dropped to the floor.

‘Quickly!’ Mariah shouted as he attempted to grab with his hands as many of the Panjandrum cards as he could. ‘Catch them before they can do more harm – the box is the only safe place for them.’ Sacha looked on as Mariah scurried about picking up the cards and pushing them into the stiffened case, then wrapping them in the sheet of commands. ‘Help me!’ Mariah snorted as he gathered the cards, got to his feet and placed the box beneath the bed.

Sacha didn’t move. She gripped to the wall plaster with her fingernails. ‘Old Scratty …’ she said slowly, her eyes fixed to the wooden chair that lurked in the shadows in the far corner of the room. ‘She’s here …’