"The Eleventh Plague" - читать интересную книгу автора (Craske Darren)

CHAPTER VI

The Parting Shot

BY THE TIME Cornelius Quaint and Prometheus returned to Grosvenor Park station, the party atmosphere had long since ceased. All that was left on the platform were some discarded banners and streamers – as well as Jeremiah, surrounded by empty bottles, snoring like a hibernating grizzly bear. The conjuror and the strongman retired to their bunks, with Quaint contemplating where the night's discovery had taken him, and how much further he would need to go before he saw its end.

The following morning, Quaint and Madame Destine were up before the lark, and were packing to be ready for the long voyage. Butterflies swarmed in Destine's stomach, and unremitting tears stained her soft cheeks as she said goodbye to her friends, flittering from one cabin to the next. Quaint was his usual insular self. The woes of his mind had yet to lift from the previous night's foray into London's backstreets.

Out on the station platform, the company of circus folk lined up alongside the steam train. Quaint spoke to them each of them in turn, striding down the line with his hands linked behind his back like a sergeant major inspecting his troops. He shared a wink with Jeremiah, a tug of Peregrine's beard and a warm smile with Yin and Yang. Quicker than he anticipated, he came to the final three performers in the line – the three he had dreaded bidding farewell to the most: Butter, Prometheus and Ruby. He spoke to them all at once, spreading his gaze between them, never letting his eyes linger long before switching to another, keeping one step ahead of his emotions.

'Well…this is it,' he said, tilting on the balls of his feet. 'Butter…I leave our family in your very capable hands. They can be a rowdy bunch, but I have no doubt that they will continue to function as exemplarily for you as they do for me.' Quaint cupped a hand to Butter's ear. 'If the clowns get out of hand, just threaten to set Rajah on them – that's what I do.' Butter sniggered into his hands as Quaint turned to Ruby. 'My dear child, it is with my sincerest apologies that I was forced to miss the send-off that you so thoughtfully organised on my behalf last night. An urgent situation arose that commanded my full attention, but know that if there were any way that I could have avoided it, I most certainly would have. You are a very special young woman, my dear. You make me, and your old mentor Viktor, most proud.' He leaned closer and pecked the knife thrower on the cheek, sending a crimson flush to Ruby's cheeks. Quaint took a deep breath as he gripped Prometheus's great hand. 'And as for you, my friend…it'll take some getting used to, you know, turning around expecting you to be watching my back and yet finding you absent. Fear not, though, the Madame has offered to step in and be my brawn should the need arise…of which there is a high probability, it must be said.' Quaint took a step back, raising his voice to address the entire troupe. 'Madame Destine and I will only be away for a couple of months at the most. In that time, I expect each and every one of you to pull together like the family you are, and continue to do what you do best – namely, put on the best damn circus that this country has ever seen, bar none!' Quaint lowered his head. 'You may disperse to your duties.'

As the rabble broke ranks and rushed to shake Quaint's hand and hug Madame Destine, the fortune-teller felt a great twinge inside her heart. The conjuror had made a vow that he would come back home to their family. She only hoped it would not become a vow that he was forced to break.

A short time later, Quaint was alone in his office onboard the circus locomotive, packing a large canvas bag. There was a gentle tapping against his door, almost too faint to be heard. The door opened slowly, Butter's wizened faced poking gingerly around it.

'Am I not intruding?' he asked.

Quaint smiled. If ever there were something to lift his spirits, it was Butter's cheerful demeanour. Although the cloud hanging over his head could not be ignored indefinitely, perhaps Butter might succeed in pushing it aside for a while.

'No, Butter,' replied Quaint, a trifle confused. 'I mean, yes, Butter. That is to say: no, you are not intruding. Come on in.'

Butter entered, seating himself upon the edge of Quaint's bunk. He pulled down the hood of his sealskin parka and fixed his dark eyes onto the conjuror's like a hound awaiting a scrap at his master's table.

'Something on your mind, Butter?' enquired Quaint.

'I wish to speak prior to your departure. Is that agreeable to you?' Butter asked, in his usual childlike fashion.

'My Inuit friend, it is most agreeable to me,' said Quaint, 'as long as you don't mind my continuing to pack as you talk. The Madame and I leave for Dover within the hour.'

'Indeed, and it is of your journey far that I wish to speak,' said Butter, toying with the fur trim of his sealskin parka, stoking his courage. 'You say I now take care of circus whilst you are gone away, yes? I wish to know how long please?'

'As long it takes,' replied Quaint gruffly. 'That poison could be halfway to Egypt by now, and my best bet is to try to stop it at the source. The Hades Consortium is a crafty pack of buggers, they'll have covered their tracks. Thankfully, I know the country well. I spent a lot of my time there back when I was with…' Quaint's eyes dimmed as an old reminiscence passed through his mind. 'Well…I mean, when I was a younger man.'

'And what am I to do whilst you are gone, boss?' the diminutive Inuit asked.

'You carry on as normal, of course. You're my deputy, Butter. I'm relying on you to hold the troops together in my absence.'

'But…what if I cannot live up to your example, boss?' asked Butter.

'I wouldn't expect you to,' smiled Quaint, with a pat on the Inuit's head. 'But you'll be perfectly fine. You won't be on your own. Ruby and Prometheus will be about if you need them, and there's always Yin, Yang and Kipo too. And then of course if you get really desperate you can always rely on the clowns…although for the life of me I can't imagine for what.'

Butter cocked his head. 'But why must Madame Destine go also?'

'To keep me from making a fool of myself, keep me on the right track, and to stop me from getting myself killed,' Quaint said, with a grin. 'Although, not necessarily in that order.'

Butter rose from the bunk and threw his arms around the conjuror, his stature bringing him just past Quaint's waist. The tall man looked down in surprise at such an unexpected display of affection.

'I think that I will miss you much, boss,' Butter sniffed.

'As I will you, my Inuit friend,' replied Quaint softly. 'As I will you all.'

'You will promise me something, yes?' Butter asked, looking up at Quaint eagerly.

'Anything!'

Butter gripped his fists tight together. 'Numbers one, you come back alive.'

'And number two?' asked Quaint.

'Numbers two, you punish the Hades Consortium for their bad plot.'

'You have my word, Butter,' said Cornelius Quaint, 'on both counts.'