Darren Craske - The equivoque principle

LIKE A WHISPER ON the wind, Madame Destine heard a voice calling her name in the darkness. She blinked hard, and when she reopened her eyes, she was blinded. She waved her fingers in front of her face, feeling the breeze against her smooth, porcelain cheeks-but she still couldn't see. It was as if she were in a windowless, wall-less void, surrounded by reams of black curtains, frozen to the core of her being, too scared even to move. Suddenly, she felt herself grabbed by her shoulders. Someone was there in the blackness with her.

'Madame Destine! Madame, please wake,' said a very anxious voice. 'It is me…Butter. Please wake up.'

Something stirred inside Destine, and it was as if she was drowning, but the voice was giving her buoyancy, something in the distance on which to focus her attention. She gritted her teeth and pushed with all her might through the folds of black silk that encapsulated her, breaching through the material, into the real world, gasping for air. She rolled her pale blue eyes, searching the room for a recognizable face. Finding Butter, she fell limply into his arms, and he guided her gently to a seat, laying a crocheted shawl across her shoulders.

'Madame, are you all right?' Butter asked.

Destine eyed Butter's bruised face and split lip. 'I could ask you the same thing.'

'I arrive not five minutes past and found you lying on floor, face twisted in terrible pain. You weep. Only a few moments ago you awoke,' said Butter, caressing the Frenchwoman's hair. 'You fainted perhaps, Madame?'

'It's nothing to be concerned about,' Destine lied. 'It was just a bad headache. But what on earth has happened to you?'

'I am well now, Madame, it looks worse than it is.'

'I doubt that. Got into some trouble, did you? And how is Cornelius? Don't tell me he's gone and got himself killed?' Destine asked, half-jokingly.

'Not yet, but tomorrow is another day,' said Butter.

'So? Tell me what happened.'

'We were in search of Prometheus. Fish market. Heard noises, and were beaten by many unknown assailants, Madame. We became locked in large…er…the boss call it "ice box". But we survive. Prometheus arrive in the nick of the time!'

'Prometheus? You found him? Oh, thank God! Is he all right? Where is he now? I must see him,' said Destine excitedly, as she tried to rise from her seat.

'Rest, Madame, is to be your first action, I think,' said Butter, gently easing her back down again. 'You do not look so well. Get back your strength.'

'I am fine, mon ami. I have survived much worse than this.'

'The boss has asked me to take you to him; they hiding at circus in Hyde Park until we get there. The boss desperately seeks you for what options to take. Seems lots of bad men in that Crawditch…one even know name of the boss. It is very late now, but in the morning time we shall leave.'

'Of course, let me just get up.' Again Destine tried to stand, and this time her legs gave out beneath her and she fell clumsily into the high-backed chair. 'I think that headache took more out of me than I imagined.'

'But that is uncommon, is it not?' asked Butter.

'Very. Although recently, getting more frequent, perhaps the older I get.'

Butter cocked his head to one side. 'Madame…it was a vision, yes? We spoke earlier of your worry over their clarity.'

'I cannot hide anything from you, my friend,' admitted Destine. 'Sometimes, if I experience a particularly intense vision, my senses simply cannot cope with the overload-and my mind shuts my body down. I collapse.'

'And this is what occurred today? May I ask…what was it about?'

'It was…something that I wish to keep private for the moment,' Destine answered, teasing her bottom lip with her teeth. 'I am sure it was nothing.'

Butter did not remove his stare from her form. The concerned expression that engraved itself upon his face was obvious to Destine. She turned her head away to hide her own apprehension.

'Do you think this vision is to come true?' the Inuit asked. His innocent, almost childlike grasp of the English language made it difficult for Destine to ignore.

'Let me answer your question with another question, Butter,' she said, a mask of dread swamping her features. 'Would you betray the trust of someone you loved if you knew it was the only way to keep them alive?'

BRIGHT AND EARLY the next morning, the lethargic daylight filtered through every window of Dr Marvello's Travelling Circus train, gilding the occupants in a golden hue. Madame Destine rose silently from her bed, her head still heavy from the previous night's premonition. She had never experienced one so real, so penetrating that it felt like she would be swallowed by the darkness, consumed by the void. She could still see the image of the grey-blue face when she closed her eyes, and it horrified her, just as the realisation that she recognized him-of that she had no doubt. She was sure that he was aware of her presence in the vision also, and that was possibly more terrifying to the Frenchwoman.

Usually, when Destine experienced a glimpse of the future, it was as if she was the only audience member in an empty theatre, watching a show designed purely for her viewing. The vision she had experienced the previous night was entirely different. Aside from being more real than she had ever previously felt, it was as if she was an unwilling participant in the unfolding performance. It was as if she was sitting in the front row of the theatre, inches from the stage. It was an unsettling feeling, as if she had somehow taken a step into a much darker, much more uncertain domain, and her confidence was in tatters-not least due to the face of the man. It was a face she knew only too well, but had buried deep inside her memory.

A loud knock rapped upon her cabin door, and Butter darted his head around the frame. 'Bonjour, Madame! Are you soon ready for leaving?' he asked.

'What time is it?'

'Nearly six o'clock, Madame,' Butter chirruped, with a smile.

'It is unforgivable of you to be so happy at this hour, mon ami,' Destine teased, stifling a yawn. 'So, how are we to get to Hyde Park?'

'I have spoken to station manager. There will be horse-cab waiting after one hour's time at front entrance. I will come for you in minute forty-five, Madame, and knock upon your door.'

'Excellent,' said Destine. 'I shall need at least that long to look presentable.'

'Nonsense, Madame,' Butter said, slowly making his exit from the room. 'I shall engage breakfast straight away and deliver just here outside your door. Eggs, toast and hot tea will be ready soon.'

As Butter had promised, everything had proceeded according to his precise timetable. The man's organisational skills made him indispensable to the more lackadaisical Cornelius Quaint. The horse-drawn Hansom carriage took nearly forty minutes to reach Hyde Park from Grosvenor Park station, and Madame Destine felt every bump in the road, and every stone underneath its wheels. It was a welcome, if slightly uncomfortable distraction from the myriad thoughts racing through her mind. Once she was away from the station, the fog began to clear from her eyes.

With Butter to aid her, Madame Destine stepped down from the cab gracefully onto solid ground, decorated with a blanket of brown and green leaves upon the grass. She took a long sniff of the fresh winter air, and was instantly reminded of her home in France. There was a familiar scent on the wind. A crisp breeze skipped playfully around the hems of her long, billowing dress, but it was not something to darken her mood. Destine was safe now, amongst friends, and soon she would be by Cornelius's side-to her, the most safe and secure place in the whole world.