Christopher Byford - Den of Stars

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Are you willing to gamble with your life?Some debts can’t be repaid. The Gambler’s Den lies in ruins, its staff scattered across the Sand Sea, all but a memory of the minds of its past patrons. But when the Morning Star appears, ruled by a mysterious figure known only as the Hare, the comparisons can’t be helped. Who is this larger-than-life character? Why do the showgirls wear masks? What are they hiding? The answer…they should be dead.Franco and Misu were safe only in their anonymity, but with Franco gone Misu must find him – jeopardising all they have built. In order to save the man she trusts Misu must put her faith in the villain.Wilheim does not forget disobedience lightly, and Misu’s was a great betrayal, so now he will call in his debt, and his revenge on the staff of the Morning Star.Who will win? Who will survive? Who will the odds favour?

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‘Good morning,’ he greeted from his seat, fresh-faced and unusually buoyant. Being stuck out here was enough to cause the onset of depression, Misu assumed, though it was good that someone was able to stave this off – unlike his sour-faced colleague. He watched, flicking debris away from a toothpick.

‘Good morning, gentlemen. A pleasure to be in your company.’

The senior got to his feet and stretched. ‘Kind words. I like you already,’ he stated, attempting to relieve Misu of any concern. Checkpoints were difficult places for all involved. Half were populated with unsavoury types on the take, with the other half a toxic mix of young upstarts who did everything vigorously by the book. Either way, anybody transporting goods normally spent more time at each one than was necessary – or comfortable. She accompanied him along the platform side, his stroll to the front engine slow and patient, as if work was a blight on his person.

‘How are the travels?’

‘Very well, all things considered.’

‘Considered?’ He paused, looking over the carriages that gleamed in the brilliant sun.

‘I don’t need to explain the difficulties to yourself out here, sir. The damned heat is the least of our worries. Little company. Rising costs. It’s a difficult life to be sure.’

‘Ah, yes, now that I can relate to.’ He began marking numbers down in a small notebook. ‘The Morning Star, right?’

‘The very same.’ Misu smiled. Their reputation had grown sufficiently, though in some places this could be unwelcome. Attention could be a curse if it came from the wrong circles.

‘Well I’ll be. For a moment I mistook you for that other one of your kind. What was it.’ He clicked his fingers over and over. ‘Ah! The Gambler’s Den!’

‘That, we are not.’ Misu kept a polite smile on display. ‘I can assure you of that.’

‘No, no you are not, a trick of the heat I imagine. The Morning Star, my word, oh yes. I’ve heard about you, a friend of mine caught a show not too long ago. Said you were the best thing he had ever seen. A circus of pleasure I believe were his exact words.’ He took the last of the carriage numbers down and turned the page in his notebook, giving a series of rapid ticks in a series of columns. Too quick for Misu’s liking.

‘How flattering. It’s nice to know we are enjoyed,’ she stated.

‘Been in any trouble? Any tampering of any sort while you were pulled in anywhere? People sniffing around, the likes of which you haven’t seen before?’

‘Perish the thought. We have someone to deter such things. People would be foolish to even try.’ It was a veiled threat with honeyed words, but a threat nonetheless.

‘Smart move. You can’t be too careful out here. We’ve got bandits rattling around the desert like damned ticks. You don’t have anything on you that you shouldn’t have? Contraband, unlicensed weapons, that sort of thing?’

Misu produced a bundle of well-sorted papers enclosed in leather straps. Every licence had been sorted by type, then sorted alphabetically for ease of inspection. They were received and scrutinized, though it was somewhat more lax than she was used to. Paperwork was stamped and signed before being handed back, with only the travel documents outstanding.

His partner was sniffing around the carriages and almost on cue, a couple of the showgirls slid down a window and began cheery small talk. They cooed and batted their eyelashes, ensuring he was sufficiently distracted. They were young, one a small blonde waif younger than most, the age quite noticeable alongside the freckled red-haired siren who hung on his every word. Misu remarked on this immediately.

‘Don’t be scaring them now,’ Misu called to the guard who quite clearly was pushing his luck. ‘My girls there, they’re fragile things. They’re no use to me spooked.’

The older man ruffled his top lip, sending a greying moustache into motion.

‘I don’t suppose we could convince you and your entourage to step out for a drink, could we? Like you said, company is fleeting around here and we’ve been starved for anything resembling fun.’

‘Sweet, but we must decline. We’re on something of a tight schedule, and punctuality is a forte of mine. I’m sure you understand.’

The senior made the last of his notes and tucked his notebook into a breast jacket pocket.

‘Well, I would say we’re all good here, miss, though there is something still outstanding.’

Misu kept her performance perfect. A query with no hint of sarcasm was delivered. ‘Oh? And what would that be? You can inspect inside if you so wish. I assure you, we have nothing to hide.’

‘There’s a, er …’ The man hesitated before leaning in closer. ‘There’s a tax in these parts for this particular type of vehicle.’

Misu sighed. ‘A tax.’

‘Right.’

‘Let me guess. A very specific tax for only vehicles of this very specific type . Correct?’

He nodded.

‘Meaning only mine.’

The nod was repeated.

‘How much?’

‘Around four hundred should cover it.’

‘You’ll get three,’ Misu countered, tossing the pleasant impression aside. ‘And I won’t hear a single objection. You’re pushing your luck out here. A bribe is not extortion. Learn the difference.’

Reluctantly she handed over a bundle of worn notes and waited for him to finish counting. When he was done, the money was inserted alongside the notebook for safekeeping.

‘I’m starting to wonder how a businesswoman like myself can ever make a profit out this way. Ask for that much from everyone and nobody will want to pass through.’ Misu scowled.

‘I’m sure anyone with a competent vocation can recoup this meagre amount in no time.’

The travel documents were stamped with the checkpoint’s seal and handed over. Misu snatched them back into her possession.

‘Besides, if you have difficulties on that front there are other ways to recoup your losses.’

‘I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Sure you do,’ he repeated in a purr, reaching forward and leaning against the carriage. In any other situation Misu would have vigorously insisted that his hand was immediately removed. On a bad day she would be more inclined to break it. But there was no need for hostility yet. ‘You have the means here to make plenty of coin on the side. I think all you need is someone to broker the deals and you could live tidy. I can think of plenty.’

‘I sure don’t like your tone. Nor do I like what you’re implying.’

‘I could spell it out but the words I would use may not be suitable for delicate ears.’

Misu seethed. ‘My business is not perverted on the whim of the desperate. You’re not the first to suggest such vulgarities so I will tell you with no room for misinterpretation: I haven’t got this far just waiting for a man to corral us into a better life. We don’t need saving. We don’t need your management. All we need from you, right now, is to get out of the way.’ Misu moved her eyes to his intrusive limb. ‘Now get your damned hand off my train before I remove it myself.’

He shrugged in easy defeat as Misu began to climb the steps to the engine, encouraging the bulk of a man waiting inside to hold his tongue. Ferry was keen to intervene, vocally at that, but was silenced with a sharp swipe of her hand in the air. Instead, the driver returned to checking the various dials and gauges in the engine cabin, ensuring that they were ready for departure though not without a small amount of muttering. This was a colossal waste of everyone’s time and the sooner they left the better.

‘Nothing I could do to make you reconsider?’ the checkpoint hand yelled up to the woman as she issued orders to the driver to prepare to release the brake. The Morning Star gently throbbed into life, puffing out small jets of steam from its chimney.

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