Dark Humanity

by Gwynn White

  A tavern girl came to our table. The girl wore heavy black eyeliner and had thick, black hair that fell to her waist. She wore a metal choker with a large glass evil eye pendant. She looked decidedly exasperated.

  Sal took her gently by the hand and whispered to her in low tones. He worked his magic on her. She left with a smile. After a few minutes she returned with two large trays: four heaping plates of food, two ales, and two decanters of wine. She set every item down with the ease of someone who knows her trade. Sal slid her some coin, whispered something in her ear, and she left smirking.

  “Are you always so successful with women?” I asked him as I eyed my plate.

  “When I choose. My only thought was to make sure my Lily had the best cut of meat and the finest wine. And, I have been successful,” he said as he poured me a glass from the decanter. He set it down and kissed me on the earlobe.

  It was my turn to smile.

  “Aye, well, I don’t know what you said, but this is fucking delicious,” Angus said, his mouth already full, as he shoved in a second bite.

  We all laughed.

  I downed the glass of wine and poured another. While my eyes took in the spectacle, I also noticed traffic moving in and out of a room in the back of the tavern where, no doubt, opium could be found. I felt relieved. I picked up a slice of bread. It was still warm from the oven. The tang of the sourdough filled my mouth. The bread was golden and crunchy on the outside, but the soft bread tucked within melted in my mouth.

  We finished our meal, rehashing again the incident with the Burning Rook, and soon we were all drunk and feeling very sated. Like two mother hens, Jessup and Angus chided me for not eating enough. They then headed back to the Stargazer to keep watch. In London, we knew and trusted the airship security. Zurich, however, was another matter.

  Sal and I sat at the table relaxing, but curiosity got the better of Sal and soon we were standing at the bar. I ordered an absinthe while Sal asked the bartender about the clockwork contraptions at the spit and the tap.

  “You have come on the right night,” the bartender told Sal in English with a heavy German accent. “Master Vogt is the tinker. That’s him,” he said, pointing to a very old man sitting by the tavern window.

  Sal smiled at me. “I’ll only be a moment,” he said. And while I am sure that’s what he intended, I knew better.

  I tipped my cap at him then watched as he approached the old man. After a few pleasantries, Sal joined the tinker at his table. I eyed the patrons coming in and out of the back. There was an old woman sitting just by the door. One would barely notice her. She was dressed in all black, her hair covered, her face deeply wrinkled. Each patron spoke to her as they entered, passing her some coins. I popped one more sugar cube, finished off the sharp spirit, and went to the old woman.

  “May I?” I asked, gesturing toward the back.

  She nodded and held out her hand. I pressed two coins therein. She looked them over then motioned for me to enter. Once I was in the room, the smell of opium filled the space. Others with the opium habit were sprawled on cots. A naked girl who looked like the tavern maid led me to the back where there were a few private, curtained cots. As we passed, I saw all manner of people enjoying the pleasure of opium; some sat in silent stupor, others lay back toking sweetly, one man was being serviced by two beautiful young women, and a man and woman were in the heat of full-on fucking as I passed by. No one paid me any mind. Wordlessly, the girl brought me a pipe and an enormous supply of opium. She smiled at me, motioning to a small bell at the bedside, then closed the curtain and left. I filled the pipe, a dark wood and bronze piece, and lay back. Moments later, I was drifting.

  My head felt hazy, and the passage of time seemed to slow. My body had been aching since we left London. Now, I felt fine. In fact, I felt great. I was giddy, and the colors of the kaleidoscope, which safely stowed in my bag, spun in my imagination. I tapped my foot to the callioflute music coming from the tavern and drifted away.

  In my mind, a vision of a woman all in gold appeared: her hair, her clothes, her jewels, and even her skin were golden hued. I’d seen her once before, in the kaleidoscope. She danced now to the callioflute music. She spun quickly, trailing colorful veils around her. She spun and spun, her beautiful body bending erotically with the music. Then, at once, she stopped. With a sly grin, she lowered herself to the ground and crept toward me, her back arching catlike. When she neared me, she stroked my cheek and peered deeply at me with her striking multicolored eyes. “Lily,” she whispered. “Wake up!”

  Startled, I awoke from my opium stupor. When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see a man leaning across my body. Was he trying to rape me? A second later, however, I realized he had his hand on my bag: the kaleidoscope.

  “Well, mother fucker,” I exclaimed, surprising him.

  The man, who had thus far been sneaking, made a grab for the bag. I pulled one leg free and kicked him toward the end of the cot. He tumbled then righted himself, pulled a knife from his belt, and lunged toward me. His greedy hand aimed for my satchel. I slid sideways and with a fist, hammered him hard in the side of the head. His knife hit the pillow. He rolled, grabbing at the bag once more. I jumped backward out of the cot, knocking over the bell the attendant had left.

  I stood in the hallway. I was trying to pull my sidearm out of my satchel, but my head was spinning; everything was a muddy haze. The man burst forward. The cot curtains twisted serpentine around him, snagging his arms and legs. He fought them off as he grabbed for me.

  Finally pulling my gun from my bag, I was just taking aim as a figure appeared behind the man and dropped a very large mallet on the thief’s head. The man wilted under the blow. Clutching his bleeding head, he turned and fled out the back door.

  I ran to the doorway and raised my gun. Though injured, the thief disappeared into the darkness before I got off a shot. I lowered the weapon.

  “Are you hurt?” someone with a very thick French accent asked.

  Shaking with rage, I could not answer.

  “Mon dieu, Lily. Are you all right?” the person asked again, setting their hands on my shoulders.

  I turned to find myself face to face with Etienne Souvenir, the French airship racer. “Etienne?” I asked. I thought I might be seeing things. The opium did that to me at times. I stuffed my gun in my bag, put both hands on Etienne’s cheeks, and eyed the Frenchman over. Etienne had long, soft looking strawberry blond hair which was pushed back by his goggles. He was fair; his features were petite and sophisticated. His frame was lean and muscular. He wore tan leather travel breeches and a navy colored jacket, its buttons undone, with a blousy white shirt underneath.

  Etienne laughed. “Oui, c’est moi. I think I just saved your life…or at least your satchel. You owe me a drink.”

  “I’m not sure what the hell just happened.”

  “I was in the cot next to you. I heard a noise, looked out, and found Lily Stargazer in a knife fight in an opium den in Zurich. But I was not surprised,” he shrugged and laughed.

  I chuckled, but my stomach had pulled into a knot. I felt angry. Was the man just a thief or was he after me in particular? Did he know what I carried? Would someone kill me for the kaleidoscope? I didn’t even know what the bloody thing was! The sooner I got to Venice the better.

  I pulled myself together and followed Etienne back into the tavern. It seemed that no one else was alarmed by the commotion in the back. Such disturbances must have been commonplace. We joined Etienne’s crew at the bar. I smiled nicely and tipped my cap at them. The French team was not a bad racing crew. They usually placed fifth or sixth. Their problem was they were too hesitant, playing the race too safe.

  The tavern was still very busy, but Sal was nowhere to be seen. Though I was pretty sure I knew where he’d gone, I was worried.

  “Where did the man I was with go?” I asked the bartender.

  “With the tinker,” he replied, sliding a glass of water toward me.

  “Thank you. By
the by, I was just in the back and someone tried to kill me.”

  The man nodded nonchalantly but said nothing.

  I laughed at the absurdity and ordered Etienne a drink. The tavern keeper set a glass of chartreuse down in front of him.

  “I did not see you when I came in,” Etienne said, lifting the drink.

  “You rarely see me, Etienne. I am always too far in front of you,” I said with a sly smile as I took his drink from his hand and sipped.

  “Ah, she plays with me, no? And after I just saved her life,” he said to his crew with a laugh, taking back his drink. “So why is someone trying to kill Lily Stargazer?”

  “That was just an act to see if you would save me,” I said playfully. “I wanted to see if the French are still chivalrous.” I grabbed at his glass for another drink.

  Etienne laughed and swiped the glass away from my grasp. “As you can see…to a fault. Why are you in Zurich?”

  “I am headed to Italy. Why are you in Zurich?”

  “I am here for work on my ship. Eh, you know how it is, constant improvement. I was supposed to meet a tinker here, but I find no one.” While his green eyes sparkled, I noticed he had dark rings underneath.

  “Was it Master Vogt?” I asked.

  “Quelle surprise,” Etienne said. “How did you know?”

  “I think my companion ran off with him,” I replied then turned to the bartender. “Where can we find the workshop of Master Vogt?” I asked.

  “Turn left out of the tavern. The building with a clock.”

  “Shall we?” I asked Etienne, motioning to the door.

  Etienne exchanged a few words with his crew. I exchanged a few words with the old woman and nabbed a supply of opium for the road.

  The air outside was cool for a summer night. Etienne and I walked through the fog toward the workshop. The opium made me feel equally foggy. While I relished the giddy and blissful relief of opium, the drug also made my mind dull and muddy. My eyelids felt heavy, and I strained to focus. When I did, I noticed that Etienne’s mood had shifted. He was sulking. It was not like him. Witty and sardonic, he was one of the few other racers I honestly liked. At every race we managed to find a way to exchange a few jabs. The fact that I was one of the few other racers fluent in French helped. We always made fun of the others, especially Cutter.

  “It is not like you to eat opium,” I said. “What’s wrong? Love sick?”

  “Eh, your jest, unfortunately, is correct. Do you remember Benoit? He broke off with me before I left Paris.”

  “Oh Etienne, I’m so sorry.” It was just like me to say exactly the wrong thing.

  “Perhaps I should try to win him back…I don’t know.”

  “I’m not the best person to give advice on love.”

  “You? The whole world knows you are the lover of Lord Byron.”

  “It is one thing to be a lover and another thing to be loved.”

  “That is my problem. I always want to be loved. It never works for me.”

  “That’s why I gave it up.”

  “I thought you were a romantic. No husband in your future? No children? No domestic life for Mademoiselle Stargazer?” he jested.

  His comments silenced me. If I continued like I did, what would be my end destination? The answer to that question was not pretty. I’d stopped asking it long ago.

  Etienne noticed my silence. “Now I have made you sad. Pardon, Lily. You must not worry. A woman like you will burn for a time and then cool. No doubt someone is already waiting for that to happen.”

  Was he right? “Well, it’s not happening tonight,” I replied with a grin and elbowed him in the ribs.

  Etienne chuckled. “Ah, here it is,” he said, looking up at a building with a clock tower.

  The clock face was flanked by clockwork figures holding mallets, ready to chime the hour. I knocked on the door. After a few minutes, the old man appeared.

  “Ah, Etienne…Fräulein Stargazer,” the old man said and motioned for us to come inside.

  The front of the workshop was dark, but I could make out a myriad of shapes. There were huge piles of metal, gears, wheels, and various clockwork figures in heaps everywhere. Etienne and I followed the tinker through a path in the clockwork labyrinth. I tried not to knock over anything. Light poured in from an open doorway in the back. Once there, I found Sal gazing at the gears of a machine lying on a workbench.

  “Lily, you should see this. It is amazing,” Sal told me, distracted. I wasn’t sure if he realized I hadn’t been with him the entire time.

  I snickered. “Sal, you should meet Etienne Souvenir,” I told him, “the French racer.”

  Sal looked up. He had a faraway look in his eyes, his brilliant mind distracted by the machine in front of him.

  “Monsieur, my pleasure. Salvatore Colonna,” he said, shaking Etienne’s hand before turning back to the clockwork on the bench.

  “Tinkers,” I whispered to Etienne who chuckled.

  “Eh, what is this, Master Vogt?” Etienne asked.

  “A metal man,” the tinker replied, “designed to replace your galleymen,” he added, looking from Etienne to me.

  At that moment, I was very glad Angus was not there. Etienne and I came closer to the workbench as the tinker explained how the clockwork man would have the strength of three men. Such new and illegal modifications were rampant amongst pirates. The racing league kept tight restrictions on the design of airships and the composition of their crew, but there was a strong call for the allowance of double propulsion such as the Burning Rook used.

  “And look at this,” Sal said, pointing to a model balloon hanging from the ceiling.

  “The balloon has a semi-rigid structure,” Master Vogt told us. “It will keep buoyancy better and be easier to navigate. It is a prototype.”

  I gazed upward but said nothing. I suspected I was seeing the future.

  “But, I do have business with Monsieur Souvenir for which I am late. It has been a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Colonna,” Master Vogt said.

  I could see the crushing disappointment on Sal’s face.

  “My thanks, Master Vogt, for showing me your creations. They are genius.”

  The old man smiled. “Please, stop again on your way back to England. There is more!” the old man said happily.

  I looked up at Etienne. “See you in Valencia,” I told him and pulled him into a hug. “Don’t despair. As they say, the course of true love never did run smooth,” I whispered into his ear.

  He kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you, mon amie.”

  With that, Sal and I left the workshop and headed back to the Stargazer. Sal was lost in thoughts of the clockwork man, but he had wrapped his arm around my waist and kept me close. Coming down from my opium high, I was left with mixed emotions. I was confused, afraid, and angry. Was someone really following us or was the thief just looking for easy pickings in the opium den? It wouldn’t be the first time someone had lifted my belongings while I was out cold, but it angered me all the same. I’d accepted that the trip to Venice might entail unpleasant interruptions, but I wasn’t expecting someone to try to stab me. I needed to be more careful and to keep my sidearm a bit handier.

  I also thought about Etienne’s words. They left me feeling confused. Would my life only consist of an endless string of lovers? Why was I so unable to allow myself to really connect with anyone? Even I knew I was a ridiculous mess. At least I was having fun, wasn’t I?

  I sighed heavily. It shook Sal from his thoughts.

  “Are you all right?” he asked.

  I smiled at him. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Who can say no to an adventure with Lily Stargazer?”

  We stopped. The moonlight shone down on us. Sal put his hand on the back of my neck, stroking the nape. I gazed up at him. His steel colored eyes glimmered. He pulled me into a kiss. It was a soft, warm, but passionate kiss, the kind of kiss that left you feeling dizzy and seeing stars. I didn’t remember him kissing me like that before.<
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  “Italians…you are so passionate,” I said with a grin.

  “Indeed, you give me much to be passionate about. Come,” he said, and we headed back to the Stargazer.

  Chapter Nine

  Jessup and Angus were already sleeping in their hammocks. They had even been nice enough to string up mine. I led Sal to my hammock, and we lay down for the night. I snuggled into Sal’s arms and no sooner had we lain down then Sal was asleep. At first I was surprised, but then I remembered that Sal was much older than me, and it really had been a long day. Perhaps I had tired him out.

  From below, the sounds of a fight drifted upward. I listened as the two men swore at one another in German. Their argument was heated; both men shouted loudly. Soon I heard the grunting sounds of physical fighting. The sound took me back to my days at St. Helena’s.

  “You say that again, and I’ll do you like they did Mary Queen of Scots,” I threatened Maggie, another girl at St. Helena’s, sliding my finger across my throat as I stared the doe-eyed girl down. We were about six years old, and she had just told me for what seemed like the hundredth time that day that I was a piece of rubbish.

  Maggie gritted her teeth and lunged at me.

  I picked up a handful of dirt and threw it in her face. She screamed, the dust burning her eyes. I took the opportunity to punch her in the gut. Crying, she fell to the ground. After she was down, I gave her a solid kick in the side of the head, the other girls cheering me on. Suddenly Sister Margaret was standing over us. Her towering shadow cast a gloomy pall.