Free Mariah Mundi and the Ghost Diamonds by G.P. Taylor Page B

stage. More often than not I just hear things of what will come, like distant whispers.’
    ‘Are you talking to the dead?’ Mariah asked. He had once seen a man on the corner of Garibaldi Street who said that those who had died told him everything. They never spoke to him of the horse and cart that had killed him the next day.
    ‘Never speak to the dead. What do they know? Best listen only to that which will bring life, young Mariah,’ Titus replied as he finished the last piece of cheese.
    The kettle and tray were soon empty and the fire in the stove dimmed. Mariah sat back in the leather chair.
    ‘I thought you to be a wicked man, but you’re different from that,’ he said as Titus took a handful of sea-coal and stoked the fire. The flames flickered on the chiselled wall of the cave. Mariah looked about him; he liked the place with its threadbare rug and old leather chair. It was warm and smelt of the sea. It was everything he had never had and reminded him of a night he’d once spent with his father as they camped by a fire on Hampstead Heath.
    ‘We’re all different underneath, Mariah. I heard things about you – but you’re not the lad they said you would be,’ Titus replied. ‘Jack Charity will be wondering where you are, you best be off. Next time you come in here through that door – shout my name and I’ll know it’s you. Keep away from that octopus. Nasty beast, would kill you if it got the chance.’
    ‘So I can go?’ Mariah asked.
    ‘Unless you want to swap that room of yours for a bed in this cave?’
    ‘Can I come back?’ Mariah asked.
    ‘Whenever you want. My special guest.’ Titus got to his feet and shook the cold from him. ‘Not many people like speaking to me. Like you they have listened to too many stories of what I am supposed to be like. I just wish they would find the truth. Judge not lest you be judged, Mariah. That’s what it says in my book and that’s how I live, me and my house serve that and always will. A fine principle for life.’ Titus stopped speaking and listened. It was as if he could hear something that only he could hear. He looked as if he were staring through the rock and into the night sky. ‘Sure you don’t want to stay until morning? I have a feeling, Mariah. All is not well with this world and you’re in danger.’
    ‘Have you seen something?’ Mariah asked.
    ‘No lad, just heard it. I heard a child crying as if they were locked away in a dark room without any light. Someone has got them and they’re afraid. They were calling out – calling your name.’
    ‘Who was it?’ Mariah asked as Titus listened again and stared like before.
    ‘Not a good thing, Mariah. Don’t go near the castle. I can see its shadow cast across your life. Stay away from the ship in the bay.’
    ‘What can you see?’ Mariah asked, sure that Titus Salt wasn’t telling him everything that was in his vision. Titus stared at the roof of the cave, his eyes flickering like the flames of the fire. He seemed to be watching an invisible performance played out in mid-air. He followed the meanderings of his imagination with the tip of his finger as he drew their movements in the air.
    ‘There’s a fog coming, a mist you can’t see with human eyes. It’ll cover everything and everyone. There are two people who want to see you dead. Each for a different reason.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Be careful. Visions don’t tell you everything. They’re like a dim mirror. If we talk too much about them we fill them with our own words and not what we’re given – best leave it at that, Mariah. Watch yourself, I can do nothing to help you. You’d better get going. Keep to the lit streets. Tell Charity you met old Titus Salt and lived to tell the tale.’ Titus spoke quickly as he tried to push Mariah through the door and into the Pleasure Palace. ‘Can’t be staying here all night. You’re dry now and the octopus didn’t kill you. You’ll have to go and go quickly.’
    ‘You’ve seen