Mariah Mundi by G.P. Taylor Page A

Slowly Mariah got to his feet. He peered out of the secret place and watched Isambard Black checking every row of seats.
    The huge chandelier grew dimmer by the second, as if it were starved of the gas that gave it light. Far to the right came a sudden flash that caught his eye – a door jumped open and before anyone could notice quickly closed again. Blacksearched on, his head down, a sullen grimace upon his face as he slid his hand underneath each seat.
    Then Mariah saw Sacha, sneaking quietly along the row getting closer and closer to Isambard Black, who was unaware of her presence.
    ‘Lost something?’ she said in a loud voice that startled Black, causing him to twist around in surprise and then fall backwards to the floor.
    ‘I … I …’ Black said, unable to think of what excuse he could make.
    ‘I can help you look if you want,’ Sacha said cheerfully, as if this sort of thing happened every day. ‘What are we looking for?’
    ‘A … cufflink,’ he said without thinking. ‘Great sentimental value, belonged to my brother, actually …’
    Isambard Black got to his feet and looked at Sacha. She smiled benignly, then took hold of his sleeve and pulled the cuff of his shirt. ‘Like this one?’ she asked as she grabbed the gold link that tightly squeezed the cuff of his crisp, starched shirt.
    ‘No, quite different,’ Black said plainly as he stepped back from the girl, unsure of how she had managed to find him. ‘What business is it of yours what it is like?’ he said, his voice changing as he screwed up his face.
    ‘Just want to be helpful, Mister Black,’ Sacha said innocently. ‘I work here and often find many things the guests leave behind. I know how painful it can be to lose something of value and not find it again.’
    ‘Yes, painful,’ Black replied as he took two paces back and looked her up and down. ‘You work here, did you say?’ he asked as he rummaged in his pocket. ‘Well, if you work here then perhaps you would keep a lookout for what I search for?’ Black held out his white-gloved hand. ‘These were once a pair, but sincecoming to the Prince Regent I am unable to find the other. I know my brother will be most disappointed should I have lost it.’ Black held out a small golden skull. Two green jewelled eyes stared at her, twinkling in the light from the vast chandelier. Its jaw dangled open, set on the tiniest hinges she had ever seen.
    ‘What is it?’ Sacha asked, enthralled by its beauty.
    Black saw the look on her face. ‘You admire that which is well made and you have a good eye. Find the other and there will be a five-pound note, crisp and new, for you to spend on whatever you want,’ he said. He took the skull and dangled it before her eyes.
    Mariah saw the skull, the match for the one hidden beneath his bed. Charity had been right: it did belong to Isambard Black.
    ‘A lot of money for the ransom of a cufflink,’ Sacha said as she prodded the jewelled eyes and flicked the hinged jaw with her finger.
    ‘A special pair, the only one of its kind, never to be made again – and more than that, they were my brother’s favourites.’
    ‘Must be special, your brother,’ Sacha said as she sat on the seat and looked up at the domed ceiling.
    Isambard Black said nothing. He turned and slumped into a seat four places from Sacha and looked up.
    ‘What do you see?’ he asked quietly as the dim flickering of the enormous crystal lamp danced off the golden dome.
    ‘A night sky, angels dancing …’ Sacha replied.
    ‘That’s a good thing,’ Black said as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and dipped the crisp white corner into his eye. ‘I came here to rest and yet I haven’t yet found any peace in this place,’ he said melancholically.
    ‘My mother said that peace and contentment is found on the inside and not the out. Just going somewhere different won’t change your heart,’ Sacha replied.
    ‘Then she is a wise woman,’ he said curtly. He got to his