leant back. That old cocksure smile he saved for special occasions used to fill Corinne with dread as it was an introduction to something genius, or something foolish being shared. He didn’t even need to speak. She was on to him.
‘Oh hell.’ Corinne strangled an exhausted, disbelieving chuckle. ‘This is a recruitment drive, isn’t it? You want us back, don’t you?’
‘Franco is planning on creating a new venture.’ Misu attempted to field the question but Colette interrupted.
‘You’re doing the same thing as before?’
‘Not exactly.’ He nudged Misu beside him who suppressed a smile of her own. ‘Our goal will still be entertainment, only … bigger. Better.’
‘There would be new contacts, the terms flexible and open to discussion for both the individual and the group.’
‘And what would your role be in all this, Misu?’ Corinne asked, getting directly to the point.
‘I’ll be fulfilling the same role. Everybody who accepts the offer would be reporting to me directly. I’ll manage all the day-to-day running, just like on the Gambler’s Den.
Kitty scrunched her face up to its fullest extent. It was an expression seen on two occasions before. The first was when she thought about what to name the restaurant and spent far too long obsessing over it. The second was when she mixed up the peppers in a dish and didn’t expect her soup to almost melt her tongue to nothing.
‘I’ve got a question. If you’re doing the same thing, won’t people notice the similarities to the Den and start asking questions of a why-aren’t-you-dead nature?’
That old sparkle danced across Franco’s face, a tell-tale giveaway as if he knew a secret that was not to be shared.
‘I promise you, what the Morning Star will be providing, nobody will be able to make that comparison. The Den was just a prelude to what people are about to witness. We were spoken about before. Excited rumours and so forth. But this … What we will be doing will go down in literal legend. That I can promise each and every one of you. Now you’ve asked us questions that I have entertained, so I’ve got one for you all.’ Franco leant forward and folded his fingers together, sweeping his eyes across the faces before him. ‘Who’s in?’
Out of the gates
There were occupational hazards when living nomadically in this region. Firstly, good food, hot water, and a warm bed were difficult to find so when possible, one should indulge in them. Secondly, those with money will always be sought by those without it, so one must always be wary.
And lastly, as was the rule of the desert, despite vigilance one will always be caught off guard.
Leaving Landusk behind it, the Morning Star travelled the arid landscape, which the sun baked and the rainclouds shunned. The train puffed along quite happily to its new destination, where a new show would be performed and profit made.
Before this was to happen, before the splendour and pomp could be supplied, they would need to pass through one of the many checkpoints that interconnected the various territories throughout the region. They ranged from well-funded operations to ramshackle outposts, their effectiveness normally in direct correlation to their budget. The idea was that contraband could be seized and any unscrupulous types could be arrested, ensuring the flow of traffic was in accordance with the law. Sadly those who maintained these outposts were so far from decent settlements that they were practically a law unto themselves.
Crossing out into the Sand Sea corridor, the large lawless expanse that ran from north to south would require passing through these points from the main rail routes and were, for the most part, unavoidable.
Misu stepped out of her private carriage, locked the door, and checked the handle, twice. There was normally no reason to be so meticulous with security but recent events ensured that this had to reviewed. Misu could do without any unnecessary complications. She trusted her employees, that was certain, but she would hate for curiosity to get the better of them.
She ventured through each carriage in turn, nodding hellos to those she passed who gave equal gestures of respect. The variety of carriages all had luxury in common, outfitted with heating that ran from the train’s own boiler and oil lamps. The sleeping car that acted as the showgirls’ own private residence was immaculate as always, with every bunk pristinely made, a routine she vigorously enforced. The dining car entertained a number of women enjoying downtime, or the closest thing to downtime they enjoyed. Some played cards, some read books from a makeshift library that lined a wall, containing tomes of every type including poetry, history, and fiction.
From there Misu crossed to the engine cab and stuck her head out of the cab window. The checkpoint was a good couple of miles away, a squatting wooden collection of buildings with a rather bulky red painted length of wood acting as a barrier positioned across the rail line. Warning signs whipped past demanding anyone approaching to lower their speed.
The driver, Ferry, rested his girth against the cab side, occasionally spying down the track and making changes to the train’s approach accordingly, flicking his strained eyes to the woman opposite. Misu wasn’t ignoring him. She was so absorbed in her own thoughts that it gave that impression.
‘For a moment I figured you wanted to sit this one out. I’ve got no problems getting us through here if you want to stroll on back and close your eyes. We all know that you need it,’ he gruffly offered though a thorny black bush of a beard. It was a polite offer that was made out of genuine concern though he seemed all too aware what the answer would be. When she finally paid him attention, it was given with an expectant sigh.
‘Are you insisting I need rest?’
‘I’m insisting nothing. I just thought it polite that I make the suggestion. I know better than to tell you what to do.’
Misu scanned the bleakness, watching the sight of a sand ship manoeuvring over the landscape, its colossal caterpillar tracks kicking up large drifts of dust. This one was a few hundred feet high and immeasurably long – a mobile village effectively.
‘Ever thought of driving on of those things?’ Misu asked Ferry who took his attention from the track to peer out the window.
‘Not these days,’ he returned. ‘Too many hijacking attempts. There’s been three in the last month alone. Whoever they paid to protect those things must have been in on it. That’s the problem when you contract security groups at port. You don’t know who you’ll get. Who you can trust. I don’t fancy getting stabbed in the back by one of my own. As odd as it may seem, this is a much safer gig.’
‘Figured the size of those things would be off-putting,’ she exclaimed, watching it fall behind a cliff side and out of view.
‘Not this far out in the Sand Sea. They’re turned into bandit nests and stripped out in the Badlands. Before I joined your brigade I did a few crossings through there – at speed may I add. There’s a graveyard around every mountain.’
‘You mean just the stripped ships, right?’ Misu cocked a brow.
‘The
