Den of Stars. Christopher ByfordЧитать онлайн книгу.
was becoming tiresome. At every stop they made, the owner of the Morning Star would retreat like this, paranoid over some unseen threat that stalked them. No matter how many times Corinne insisted that there was nothing to worry about, new excuses were made to the contrary.
‘Your chances mean that you’ll be stuck in bed, and my days will be spent bringing you nothing but soup. We have to be awake in four hours. That’s not a lot of time to get some sleep, especially if we’re to stick to this overly busy schedule of yours that you’re so keen on pushing.’ Corinne glanced at the illuminated city gates down the tracks, barely visible, but still noticeably barred. ‘According to Ferry, the gates won’t be open until nine at the earliest. There’s a curfew in effect, something about random trouble. I don’t know. It’s all very sudden.’
This was enough for the Hare to finally look down to the platform.
‘What sort of trouble? Do we know?’ she asked, quite concerned.
‘No idea. Whatever’s happening, nobody is telling. The law refuses to whisper notions, though I did try to sweet talk them when they were hanging around trying to bum drinks. We have no option but to sit and wait it out I’m afraid. We are going nowhere, dear. You’d best get comfortable if you’re staying up there.’
‘I’m used to the waiting – that’s not of concern. I just don’t necessarily like it.’
‘Don’t like the boredom?’ Corinne asked.
‘I don’t like being trapped,’ the Hare muttered flatly, resting her chin on her forearms.
Again, there was silence.
Corinne finally spoke. ‘Are you sure I can’t convince you?’
‘I’m sure,’ came the reply, though this time she turned again and made eye contact. The pair watched one another until Corinne relinquished with a shrug.
‘Well, if you insist. Wait here. Not that you’re doing anything else of course …’
* * *
Corinne stormed along the platform and into the warm glow of one of the few illuminated cars. There was a good couple of minutes where there was nothing. There was no noise, there were no interruptions, only the perfect stillness of the city night. Landusk had seldom seen such tranquillity and whilst it may only last a scant few hours, it was something quite wonderful to treasure.
Then Corinne returned.
‘If you’re not coming for food, then the food’s coming to you.’ Corinne’s voice floated from over the carriage side, joined by the striking of shoe on ladder. The woman hoisted herself up, balancing two flower-decorated bowls with protruding spoons. One was placed before the Hare and the other was set aside temporarily. ‘Compliments of Katerina. Come on, take that stupid thing off – the show’s over.’
Corinne reached to relieve her manager of her mask, though she was met with immediate hesitation. In truth the Hare had forgotten that she still wore the showpiece. Its presence was so invisible that it felt as natural as her hand or foot. The flinch given was telling, though her eyes softened momentarily, allowing for Corinne to it relieve her of its burden.
* * *
Beneath the mask, the woman gave a long exhalation, patches of skin red from the mask’s pressure. Pits of black eye shadow reduced her eyes to a pair of dulled gems in a lagoon of make-up, hiding tell-tale signs of insufficient rest and obsessed troubles. Her lips, glossed slick, had worn a fake smile all night but this too had been removed, leaving a thin stoic line. Misu’s eyes softened in thanks.
The disguise was placed carefully beside her and just out of reach to ensure it wouldn’t be accidentally kicked aside. Corinne made her best effort to coax a smirk with one of her own though this was sadly ineffectual. Admitting defeat, she offered the food, relieved when it was finally accepted.
‘Here. It’s good for what ails you.’
‘Thank you,’ Misu said, cupping the bowl in her hands. She stirred the contents. Meat and vegetables bobbed around, suspended in a thick, pungent gravy. Its smell was a distinct comfort, a musky, woody aroma with the tang of onion.
‘Don’t mention it.’ Corinne crossed her legs and began to take spoonfuls of stew to her hungry mouth. A carrot dissolved to nothing as it rolled around on her tongue. A cube of meat required more chewing than she was comfortable with, but despite these flaws they contributed to a substantial meal.
Corinne wagged her empty spoon about.
‘I see why you like it up here. It’s pretty peaceful.’ She surveyed the darkened gothic buildings that sandwiched the train tracks. Barely any windows accommodated the glow of candle or oil lamp with most of the city’s occupants in their beds, unsurprising given the hour. ‘We don’t have much of that these days given the circumstances. I wouldn’t have imagined it could be so quiet being smack in the middle of such a big city.’
* * *
Misu changed the subject immediately, knowing full well when someone was probing for answers to challenging questions. ‘It’s a nice city, this. I wouldn’t mind returning sometime soon. There are good people with deep pockets. The takings were fine, or at least from what I’ve been told so far.’
‘Elizabeth says this place is all too claustrophobic. Doesn’t like that everything is built on top of itself. Tight streets and all that.’
Misu began to scrape at the remains in her bowl, taking the last few mouthfuls. ‘That’s a normal country girl reaction. Big cities don’t suit ’em. How is our songbird coping? We could have used her tonight. The punters were receptive. Could have brought in a lot of extra money if she did her set.’
‘She’s resting her voice. It won’t be long until she’s fully recovered. The worst is behind her or at least that’s what she insists. The girl has practically been living on sweet tea. I’ve been told she’ll be fine for the next show. Despite that, it should be said that she still manages to muster complaints.’
‘I have to confess, she’s a complainer that one,’ Misu stated with concern. ‘Always with something to say, rarely good.’
‘Nerves I’m sure. Do you think she’s trouble?’
‘Hard to say. What I know is that we need her on form and quickly. It’s been a month and she’s only done two performances.’
‘Come now, you can’t blame her for falling ill. That’s just bad luck.’ Before her manager could respond with a rebuttal that would sour the conversation, Corinne placed her bowl down on the rooftop and scrunched up her face in thought. ‘You’re right you know.’
‘Huh?’
‘The stew could be better.’
Misu finally gave a small smile, the first one witnessed tonight outside of the performance. Corinne took the bowls and stacked them atop one another. They both leaned back on the carriage.
‘You’re not going back in?’ Misu asked.
‘And leave you alone out here? That’s just not right in my book. No, you get my company – and no objections.’
‘No objections, boss,’ Misu corrected.
‘As you wish. That’s still difficult to get used to.’
‘You and me both, but these are the times. It’s strange days when you’re being dragged from place to place by, technically, a dead woman.’ Misu snorted in amusement, glancing to her mask that held a subtle hint of her reflection. The ruse created to conceal her identity fit in well with the natural theatrics that the Morning Star thrived on.
Nobody cared that the show was a copycat – if they did it was never brought up in her company, but out here in the far south of Surenth, where the Gambler’s Den never travelled previously, the locals found it refreshingly new.
Despite the dangerous