The Bandalore Read online

  ‘You’re behaving rather strangely,’ Jane seated herself at one end of the couch, patting the space beside her. ‘What ails you, aside from liquor, Mr Mercer? I believe you were a raging success last evening. I felt quite assured leaving you on your own, though I probably should have told you of my intentions.’

  ‘Yes, you bloody well should have,’ he blurted, startling himself, but soldiering on. ‘What ails me, you ask? Where do I begin with such a list? Aside from the simple fact you appear to have no shadow which is disconcerting to say the least, there is the small issue of my being raised from the dead. And for what purpose no one will give me a clear answer. You abandoned me last night to frolic with your paramour—’

  ‘If I’d known you so wished to join in—’

  ‘I certainly did not wish to join your tryst, Miss Handel,’ Silas glowered. ‘I required your assistance last night and you were not there.’ He raised a hand to her protests. ‘Allow me to finish.’ Quite where this righteous indignation was coming from Silas did not know but it powered him. ‘Last night I believe I saw an apparition, a barely human thing. It found me in the library, where I spoke with a man who believes himself possessed, or mad. He is leaning towards the latter. Which perhaps describes my state as well for the duress my mind is under. I found myself promising this poor man I would attend the home of his friend, to see to their ghost issue, though I have no clue what that entails, and I fear that no one seems interested enough to educate me, least of all you.’ His chaotic thoughts jumped from one troubling thing to another. ‘I’ve become a member of an Order I know next to nothing of, and virtually held captive by it. I am perplexed as to how I can be fed and clothed by an invisible caretaker, I do not understand how you were strong enough to lift me last night when we danced, or how you can set a man to sleep with a blown kiss.’ He jabbed a finger at the ceiling for greater effect, quite caught up in his diatribe. ‘I most certainly do not understand how it is that I am certain that I am indeed dead, and yet walk around in this great suit of flesh and bone with no memory of the life I have lost. You, Miss Handel, are asking me to believe such things as nymph and daemons exist, indeed that an entire world of supernaturals exist right under my very nose and seem quite astonished that it has unsettled me. I dare say I may become addicted to the drink, for it seems to be all that stops my thoughts from driving me quite mad. There. That is what ails me, so far. I’m sure by supper I’ll have added more items to the list.’ He snapped his mouth closed. His voice had risen with each word until he all but shouted at her.

  Jane suddenly stood up on the couch, and darted at him, planting a kiss upon his cheek before Silas could blink. ‘Silas Mercer, this is wonderful. Your eyes are opening. That ball was worth every dull moment.’ She glanced at the ceiling. ‘Give or take a few moments of delight. Our lady was right, as per usual, that if left to your own devices your true nature would find its way.’

  ‘True nature?’ Silas regretted not eating at least one slice of the bread in the basket on his doorstep. ‘What does Lady Satine know of my nature?’

  ‘All in good time, dear Silas, however much of that you may have.’

  ‘However much?’ he asked, slow and low.

  ‘What? Did you suppose yourself immortal now? You truly are quite sweet.’ She laughed, and sprang away from him, though she did not leave the couch. The leather protested her dancing about. She hair was dishevelled, her cheeks dark, as though she still wrestled with her lover. ‘Now, let us trace back to things of greatest import. Look at me, truly look. Tell me what you see.’

  Still reeling, and not a little unsettled by her reference to his limited time, Silas was not quick to answer.

  ‘Come, come.’ She urged. ‘Look closely, what do you see?’

  Perhaps he was as prudish as Jane assumed, for what came to mind would never cross his lips. With her tousled hair and sheer clothing, she appeared as a woman who had just cried out beneath the bedclothes as she summited her pleasure. Silas lifted his shoulders with a disconsolate shrug. Jane gestured at the candles on the mantle, and they lit at once. Flames far larger than such a slender candle could demand.

  ‘Tell me what you see, Silas.’ she repeated.

  It was unnerving enough to stare at a woman in a state of undress, even more so when that woman was studying him with ferocious intent, a viper about to pounce on his reply. He cleared his throat.

  ‘I…it is what I don’t see. Your shadow does not exist, as though the light doesn’t notice you. Perhaps my eyes are failing me?’ He touched his face. ‘Is there a chance that I am…unwell…physically, I mean? Mr Ahari did speak of some possibility that I might, ah…dissolve…or…leak.’

  She clapped her hands together, dancing in a quick step upon the cushioned seat. ‘You are an adorable giant oaf. No, you are not falling apart, if that’s what concerns you. I do believe you are safe from that worry now. Enough time has passed that Mr Ahari no longer considers it a possibility. You are stead farce in your skin.’

  ‘I suppose that is reassuring.’

  ‘Not everyone is suitable for reanimation, of course. It is quite an undertaking, as you can imagine.’

  He preferred not to imagine. Moving along swiftly, Silas asked, ‘Then it is as it appears? You cast no shadow?’

  ‘Indeed. Nor do any of the supernatural persuasion. All those like you and me. But that detail is evident only to others of our kind. Those of the ordinary world see nothing untoward.’

  Silas sank onto the couch. ‘So I am truly no longer of the ordinary world.’ He’d not realised till that moment a small part of him still harboured hopes all the strangeness was but a dream.

  She rested on her knees beside him, the robe threatening to expose far more than her thighs. The scent of jasmine was softer but still evident. ‘I’m afraid not, Mr Mercer. That time has long ended.’

  His voice was very small when he spoke. ‘When do you think I might learn what is expected of me, for I do not think I can bare the suspense much longer.’

  ‘You are already on your way. Your sight has emerged, and that can only be a positive sign. I will inform the Lady Satine immediately.’ A coy smile played at her lips. ‘Well, as soon as I have seen to the Earl, which I will do as soon as you tell me more of the apparition.’

  ‘I may have been mistaken.’ A sense of dread came over him, sweeping with it the sense that last night marked the start of a great change, one he was not sure he was prepared for. He ran his hands through his hair, wishing, quite ludicrously that he had declined the Lieutenant’s invitation to converse. As though the poor delusional man had something to do with all this.

  ‘You know you were not mistaken.’ Jane watched him closely. The room’s silence blanketed them, the candles still burning bright. ‘Tell me.’

  Silas brushed his fingertips against the fabric of his trousers. ‘I first noted a few odd movements in the library, while I spoke with Lieutenant Charters—’

  ‘And he is the man you believe mad?’

  Silas grimaced. ‘I am not fit to diagnose him obviously, but he himself believed unwell. That he was…possessed. Certainly his nerves were frayed, he seemed terribly tired. It is why he sought out my company, to call on my supposed expertise, as a member of the Order. The poor man could not have made a poorer choice.’

  ‘I’m sure you were delightful. I don’t believe I know of the Lieutenant.’

  At that moment Silas remembered the calling card Edward had pressed into his hands.

  ‘I have his card.’ He dug into his trouser pocket pulling out the crumpled card. ‘He wished to see me again.’

  ‘Naked, I presume?’ Jane took the card from him, her smile ripe with suggestion. ‘Well done, Silas. A vigorous seeing too might alleviate your stress.’

  ‘Must you truly be so vulgar?’

  Jane held the card so it caught the brunt of candlelight, reading its inscription.

  ‘Must you be wound so tight?’

  Blinking, Silas retorted. ‘Were you not
listening to me earlier? I believe I have every right to be wound tightly. The Lieutenant asked about an appointment.’

  ‘Oh well done, Mr Mercer.’ She glanced at the card. ‘I do so like to see that you have regained some of your spark. Perhaps Mr Charters had a good effect on you, I shall be certain to follow up on the appointment.’

  ‘It is not for him though. His friend the Baron Feversham believes there is some issue in his London residence and Mr Charters would like to offer the Order’s services as a birthday gift.’

  Jane rolled her eyes. ‘I do so love it when the Order is treated like a rare treat purchase from Harrods. A folly to be enjoyed with wine. They are oblivious, most of them, to what it is they are serviced with.’

  ‘I’m afraid I’m as in the dark as the next man.’ Silas was conscious of the dryness of his mouth, and suspected his breath was less pleasing than it should be. ‘You said the Order maintains a balance, between supernatural and mundane. Is there truly such a threat, or is it just…’ Uncertain how to phrase it delicately, Silas did not phrase it at all.

  ‘Part of the show?’ Jane laughed. There was always a tinkling quality to the sound, as though crystals brushed against one another. ‘Why Mr Mercer, if I were a different sort of person I might be insulted by your suggestion that we are little more than charlatans. In truth, I wish it were so, but the supernatural are no different to humans. Some are good, some are decidedly not.’ She staved off his question before he’d opened his mouth to speak it. ‘Let’s return to your evening, please. Tell me of the apparition.’

  Silas shifted his weight to the edge of the couch, eager for some distance from the swell of Jane’s breasts beneath the delicate fabric. ‘It was certainly human in shape but I couldn’t make out any features. I am certain that it watched me though.’ He looked down at his fingers. ‘There was a strange tingling in my fingers, a coldness in the room that belied the enormous fire there. A ridiculous size really.’

  She nodded. ‘The apparition?’

  ‘The fire.’

  ‘Tell me of the apparition, Silas,’ she sighed.

  ‘I’ve done so. We gazed at one another, wordlessly, then it slid up the walls and vanished. I’m not certain it wasn’t the copious amount of brandy—’

  ‘It was not the brandy.’ Jane gestured at the candles and the blaze of light snuffed out, descending the room back into its original gloomy depths. ‘Allow yourself to believe, Silas.’

  They sat in silence a while before Silas gathered himself enough to speak.

  ‘May I ask…what…you are, Jane?’

  She gave him a gentle smile. ‘That is not an unreasonable request, I’m sure even the Lady Satine would agree. I am a sylph, an elemental of the air. In fact the humans like to name my kind air spirits, and I suppose they are not far wrong. I am borne of the breeze and wind, its whimsy made flesh. I’m rather old, though it must be said you certainly cannot tell. Am I correct?’ She framed her face with her hands, batting her eyelids. ‘Silas? You’d do well to agree.’

  Silas stumbled over himself to reply. ‘You look, very well.’

  A woman in her prime, her skin supple, desirable. And so very far from human. Silas bit at his tongue.

  ‘Good gods man,’ Jane declared, rising to her feet. ‘Is that the sort of compliment you use to lure women to your bed? If so, I rather imagine you were a virgin when you died.’

  Silas’s jaw tightened. He had enough of conversing for one day. He stood, dwarfing Jane in stature but feeling immensely small alongside her. ‘I think perhaps I will take my leave.’

  ‘I have upset you.’ Jane finally adjusted her robe, covering her sylph self more entirely. ‘Do you recall something of your life? Something I hit upon with my comment?’

  An ache stretched across his chest as he considered a reply. ‘I remember nothing of it at all.’

  Jane rubbed his arm, causing him to flinch. ‘I’m sorry, Silas. This must be difficult for you, but you are doing very well. Keep your spirits up. Lady Satine will be most pleased with our conversation.’ She moved away from him, bringing their intense conversation to an end. But Silas ventured one last question.

  ‘You will tell me before her Ladyship returns, will you not?’

  ‘Are you anxious about your meeting?’

  He toyed with his undershirt, embarrassment mingling with his unease. He was no more suitably dressed than Jane. ‘I’ll say that I am, yes.’

  ‘Well I shall ensure I am with you, Silas.’ She did not, he noted, tell him his concerns were unwarranted. ‘And I’ll most certainly inform you as soon as I too am aware of her return. Her ladyship is not much one for communication or deadlines I’m afraid.’ She drew her hair over one shoulder, the sleeve of her gown sliding free with the movement. ‘Now go and relax, Silas. I’ll send word to Mr Ahari of your advancement, and have him arrange the particulars of the appointment with Baron Feversham. He’ll be delighted I’m sure.’

  With a wiggling of her fingers, Jane waved him a goodbye and with her lightness of feet, returned to her slumbering earl. With no option but to take his leave, Silas stepped out into the sunshine. A welcome brightness after the confines of Jane’s abode. The scent of jasmine disappeared the moment he set foot beyond main door. Outside the gentler waft of cut grass mingled with roses. It was as though an age had passed since he’d stormed out of his cottage, demanding an audience with Jane. Silas rubbed at his face, and set off back across the green, far more drained than when he’d set out. His boots crunched up the gravel pathway to his door. With the things he’d learned rolling through his head like wayward marbles Silas almost collided with the impossibly short man who stood on his front steps. He wore a peaked cap, and held a small parcel in his hands.

  ‘Excuse me.’ Startled, Silas stumbled back. ‘Can I help you?’

  ‘Well, that’s about bloomin time then, isn’t it. You’ve got the eyes now, then.’ The man thrust the parcel upwards, he barely reached Silas’s waist. ‘I’m to give you this. Her ladyship’s orders. Consider it a welcome gift.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Silas worked hard not to stare. He knew of such small people but had never laid eyes upon such a person. He was a robust chap, with pale hair cut in a somewhat unrefined side part and eyes set deep in his skull. He was also the first living soul Silas had seen in the Village in three weeks, aside from Jane…and her companion. Silas’s gaze shifted to the gravel at the small man’s feet. Though he stood in the full sun, there was no shadow. ‘You say the Lady Satine sent this for me?’

  ‘Done already said it, ain’t saying it again. You’re a bit slow, ain’t ya?’ he said gruffly.

  ‘No,’ Silas said, somewhat taken aback.

  ‘Yeah, you are. Been delivering your food every day for three weeks, but you was too blind to see. Almost stood on me a week ago and you ain’t exactly a slender fellow.’

  ‘You’re the one preparing the food?’

  ‘My mistake. You’re a genius. Hey, don’t look so bloody shocked at the idea.’ The man sniffed. ‘Cook and deliver. And without a word of thanks, might I say.’

  Silas toyed with the string wrapped around the plain brown parcel. ‘I’m sorry. Thank you. I wasn’t aware that…well you see, I wasn’t entirely sure—’

  ‘You couldn’t bloody see me. I know. But you do now, so a thanks will be expected in future.’ He touched a finger to his cap. ‘Good day to you, Mr Mercer.’

  The man trundled off, his short legs slightly bowed and his gait swaying his entire body side to side.

  ‘What is your name?’ Silas called. ‘So I…might…thank you properly.’

  ‘Gilmore.’ The man replied, before disappearing in behind the trestle of white roses that grew along the east side of Silas’s cottage. Silas stood still for several breaths, considering the oddness of his day so far, before he reentered his cottage. The air inside was actually cooler than without, he would need to stoke the fire, but first, he determined to discover the contents of the mysterious package. Direct from the La
dy Satine herself. He entered the diminutive study, situated across the hall from the parlour. The room had been furnished with all he might require, were he a man in need of a writing desk, book shelves, and a window seat on which to contemplate his studies. At this time of day it took in the full sun, which highlighted the dust lying atop everything. Silas laid the package on the empty desktop, and tore into the brown paper wrapping. A crudely made pine box lay within. He noted a brownish stain upon the lid as he removed it. Its insides were stuffed with straw. There was something mildly familiar about the box, though it had no label or markings to differentiate it from any other. Digging into the depths Silas found the content of the box readily. A rounded lump of wood. He pulled it from the straw, though the strands insisted on clinging, ensuring that the desktop became awash with lengths of pale gold. Silas surveyed his gift with a twist of his lips.

  ‘What am I to do with this?’ He peered at the rounded disc, carved from box-wood with a fine swirl of grain at its heart. A thin length of string was wound into the deep groove around the edge of the disc. A bandalore. A frivolous device meant for amusement, the intended goal being to release the disc down the length of string, and pull it back to ones hand with a perfectly timed flick of the wrist. He knew with certainty what it was, but whether or not he could utilise it was beyond him. With some amusement, Silas poked his finger through the rounded loop at the end of the string, and set the bandalore free. He fully expected it to clatter to the ground with his ineptitude, but he was set for a surprise. His motion was perfect, his tilt of wrist just so, and the disc fled down the length of string at great speed. Without consideration Silas adjusted his hand once more, and just as the disc looked certain to strike the floorboards he reversed its motion. The wood rushed into his grasp with a slap against his skin.