by G. P. Taylor
The lift rattled upwards. It was slower than usual, as if the power was not as great. And then Mariah noticed that the lights inside the ship had dimmed. They were not glaring as bright as they had been the day before. He realised something was wrong with the power of the ship. It was as if it were a leviathan of the sea that was slowly dying.
The elevator stopped at Deck 13 and the doors opened automatically. There was a fresh smell to the air. The flowers that were brought each day from the cold storage room far below had just arrived. He stepped outside and there, on the round table in the vast entrance room, was a vase of pure white lilies. Their red stamens stuck out like tongues of fire. Everything here seemed to be crisp and clean.
Mariah called out for Vikash, but no one came. He walked through the rooms and along the passageway that ran the length of the top of the ship until he reached the door of his own room. Before going inside he had the desire to see Biba once more. Mariah turned and took several paces back to her door. He knocked gently and turned the handle. Biba was on the bed, wrapped in her fur coat. She looked like a Viking girl ready for burial. She was sleeping.
Closing the door, he made his way back down the corridor until he got to his room. The door opened for him. Charity stood there, his hair pushed back, his eye badly bruised from the blast.
‘I wondered where you had got to,’ said Charity. ‘I hear we have had another accident.’
Mariah reached into his pocket and pulled out the two bolts and handed them to Charity. ‘It looks as if they have been cut through. The capstan had been sabotaged.’
Charity looked at the bolts. Mariah wondered why he hadn’t mentioned him leaving the ship. He wanted to ask him but felt it best that he should keep silent.
‘Tell me Mariah,’ Charity said, and Mariah knew what words would come next. ‘What happened on the other ship?’
Mariah sat in the armchair with a sigh. It was as if he was back at school and had to explain away some misdemeanour. He looked up at Charity and began to tell him everything. The words came easily as he spoke of Cartaphilus and how they had escaped from the ship. Mariah talked for half an hour and Charity listened intently, never interrupting, and making a note in his mind of everything Mariah had said.
‘What’s more,’ Mariah said, ‘when I travelled back on the skyship I could see that only one engine of the Triton was working and I noticed just now that the lights in the elevator were on half power.’
‘I fear we will not reach America,’ Charity said. ‘This ship is doomed.’
‘I heard a man say that on the deck. He insisted that it is cursed,’ Mariah replied as his mind raced.
‘Is is not a curse that will take it to destruction but someone who does not wish the Triton to win the Great Race,’ Charity replied. ‘Though the gold is no longer with us there is still a prize to the person who wins and many gamblers have already placed bets. This event will make some people very rich. It is in their interest for the Triton to lose. The only way they can be sure of this is if the ship is at the bottom of the Atlantic.’
‘I think Zane is lying,’ Mariah said.
‘That is obvious,’ Charity replied. ‘I don’t think that the Triton would have been capable of winning the race even if both engines had been working. The Marquis expressed this to me last night.’
‘And now he is lost in the sky,’ Mariah replied.
‘Conveniently,’ Charity added. ‘With the Marquis and Captain Tharakan out of the way it leaves Lorenzo Zane in charge of the ship.’
‘He appointed Ellerby as captain. He told me on deck,’ Mariah replied.
As they talked on, neither heard the rumbling of the dumb waiter in the corridor outside. It rattled from the butler’s larder on the deck below and then stopped quietly. The small doors opened and Shanjing stepped out.
He was confident and silent with his step. He listened to Charity talking to Mariah. He smiled to himself and twisted his long rat-tail moustache in his fingers. Within a few paces he was at Biba’s door. He slowly turned the handle and stepped inside just as Vikash came from his study.
Vikash knocked on the door of the room and then went in. Biba was asleep on the bed. He shook her gently.
‘Biba, you must wake soon – it will not be good for you to sleep so long,’ he said softly. She opened her eyes and looked at him. Vikash could see that she didn’t want to speak. ‘I think you should eat something. I will have the butler bring some soup.’
Biba nodded and pleaded with her eyes for any news of her parents.
‘Still no word,’ he said as he turned to leave. ‘I will be back in the hour with some food – rest until then.’
He closed the door behind him and Biba was once again in darkness. She felt alone, more so than she had ever felt before. Now her father was not there, she had no one. All attachment to her mother had left her that day on the ice at Jacobshavn. She had closed her heart and mind to her. Biba knew that her mother felt more for Lorenzo Zane than she did for her father. That was obvious. Her mother changed when in Zane’s company. She would laugh and smile, a demeanour which was absent when alone with the Marquis.
Biba pulled the fur coat around her and tried to wake up. She was caught in a world between sleeping and waking. It allowed her to dream with her eyes wide open. She looked about the cabin. It was drained of colour by the lack of light. It reminded Biba of her heart.
It was as if her bed and the warmth of the fur coat wouldn’t let her sit up. She lay for a while listening to the sounds of the ship and the sea beyond. Biba wondered about her parents – if they were still alive. She knew she could not give up hope for her father.
The door of her small dressing room opened slightly. Biba heard the handle click. At first she thought it was the movement of the ship and she rested gently, half asleep, half awake. The door opened further. A light footstep touched the wooden floor. Then another. It was more of a dance than someone walking to her. Biba lay still, hoping the sounds were in a dream and that she was alone, but some ancient instinct within her told Biba that someone was near. All was silent. The room was dark.
In the half-light, Biba opened her eyes. She searched the room for some trace of who was there. She could see nothing. The door to the dressing room swung gently with a tremor of motion. Biba relaxed back into the covers of the bed and pulled her fur coat tighter about herself.
‘You did well to escape from the ship,’ a voice said, as if from inside her own head. ‘Don’t scream – we are old friends.’ Biba couldn’t move. Fingers of fear gripped her to the bed. She looked about her to see who it was who spoke. ‘I would like you to come with me – I have much to tell you.’
She felt a word come to mind.
‘Shanjing?’ she asked in a whisper.
‘That is one of my many names,’ he replied as he stepped from the shadows so he could be seen in the gloom.
‘Why are you here?’ she said as she gripped tightly to the coat.
‘I need your help,’ Shanjing said. He pulled a knife from the belt around his narrow waist. ‘Just a token from you as proof. A lock of hair, a fingernail – something more perhaps? I need you to come with me. I have a secret place on the ship.’
The door opened suddenly. Mariah stood in the corridor. He looked at Biba.
‘I heard you talking to someone. Vikash came and told us you were sleeping. I was just passing,’ he said as he looked about the room.
‘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.
[20]
Shanjing
FROM 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.
‘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.’
