Cabaso's Hat: Part II

The thing about the market was, there weren’t many places to run but away, and away was a short trip across a dangerous gorge at regularly scheduled intervals. Not that Cabaso wanted to get away, but it was a good thing to keep in mind.

He had no intention of leaving his hat behind but his natural impulses were pushing him toward the dock where illegal rides across the gorge could be bought at outrageous prices. Outrageous for others. Cabaso was sure there was a ferryman or woman that owed him a favour, or two. Once man and hat were reunited, they would make their way across the gorge and into the rest of the tunnels and away from the market.

There was a bit to be done before then.

Something he had been warned about, by a former member of a squat party in a market on the other side of town, after helping the former member across the gorge with one of his favours and thus earning himself two more that would, unfortunately, never be collected (the market on the other side of town was vastly different from the market Cabaso currently enjoyed; denizens from one almost never experienced long life when shifted from one to the other), was the tendency for squat parties to adopt people from the market. Adoption was not a legal action, or even a trade. It was that they took all of your fears and reinforced them, then pushed them until you believed they were all something they were not. When they could manipulate your fear, it was easy to make you believe they were the only answer to it.

Cabaso was trying very hard to recall that he knew this, mostly because he could not stop being afraid in that moment.

The fear had come on him so suddenly that he did not know he was frightened until he saw someone who could relieve the fear. He was frightened of being alone, and here was someone, in a wrecked old vest and trousers, to alleviate his fear. He was surprised at how easily the man took his arm and led him toward the cellar door of the building next to Mr.Castle’s pawn shop. He was very glad not to be alone, and to see that there were other faces in the cellar.

“Another one!” someone said.

Another! Which meant there were several before him! Cabaso climbed down into the cellar. What was he doing here? What were they all going to do here? He hoped they were not going to leave the cellar. If they were to get lost, to lose one another- how horrible alone they would all be.

The squatters made a home for him in their nest of blankets. The blankets smelled old and damp, like dough that had been left to rise and do nothing else, and he sank into them with a happy sigh. “You know,” Cabaso said, “I did not even know what I was looking for until just now. I’ve only just found it.”

“That’s lovely,” said his neighbour, wrapped in another blanket. There was something strange about her eyes. They were colourless in a way Cabaso’s mind did not want to see. “I bet you don’t want to leave it, do you? Never leave this place, eh?”

“Never,” Cabaso agreed. It seemed the most basic of things, the simplest truth, that he should never want to leave. What help appeal outside the squat party? And, locked deep down inside of him, if there was a voice protesting or questioning, it was easily ignored.

Time passed, but Cabaso would not have sworn that it did. They did not sleep, just let more of the dough smell collect around them. Someone on his other side shifted occasionally and made small, unhappy noises as their skin changed. It was like dough rising, like the smell, smoothing out all the cracks in his face. Perhaps it was painful, but Cabaso would not know. He did not move in the swelter of blankets. Someone moved across the floor above him. Someone else left to wander through the tunnels that ran under the houses and shops of the ridge, then came back, empty handed. Which was disappointing. It would have been so good, Cabaso thought, to expand the party. There could never be too many squatters.

When he shifted again, after some time, someone else brushed his arm. They smelled distinctly human, and like heat, not like the damp that settled into the cellar and his bones. They were trying to attract his attention, shifting in the mass around them. How irritating, and rude, Cabaso thought. He frowned at the man.

“Don’t give me that look,” the man said. “You know why I’m here. Oh, this is a bit of a mess. I know you would have rather I left you alone. Know that circumstances forced my hand.”

Cabaso tried to recall what circumstances those were, and if he were in any circumstance that would force the man’s hand. He did not think so.

“We’ll get out of here through the tunnels,” the man said, “Once you’ve woken up. Oh, that better be soon. Come on, Cabaso. Please make it soon.”

But Cabaso was awake. He had been awake for a while now. Sometimes the scenery of the cellar changed, which was how he knew that time had passed. More faces had become mountainous and dough-like. The woman beside him was hardly recognizable anymore, except for the blue shawl tied under her shapeless chin. It was a sight. The strange man was distracting him from it, and he tried to put into words why he found it so irritating to move or be spoken to at length. “This is where I belong,” Cabaso said.

Something next to him that could have been a person nodded. It was like watching an unbaked loaf of bread bounce.

Cabaso tried to ignore the strange man, and not to move. These things both proved difficult, since the strange man was right in front of him. The strange man moved about the cellar, pushing aside Cabaso’s squat party as he reached for Cabaso. He tugged on Cabaso until he stood. Cabaso was put out to find himself travelling through the tunnels, away from his squatting territory and his party. He was sure he was meant to stay with them. This man was leading him toward a place he would be quite alone.

“This is not-” Cabaso broke off because the man had stuck something in his mouth. Cotton balls or cloth. It was in between Cabaso’s teeth and made his words into sloppy noises.

“You know me,” the man said. There was light shining down through the floorboards, on the man’s dark skin. “Algernon. Come now, Cabaso. The squatters got you. If Castle decides now’s the time to check for squatters in his shop, you’re caput.”

He tugged Cabaso along. They bumped into chairs and tables together. Cabaso turned around, to go back, but he was walking backward, because the strange man was still pulling him. When Cabaso glanced upward, he saw a knot in one of the floorboards, and through it, it looked like Mr.Castle had gone to meet his neighbour. Cabaso did hope Mr.Castle would not check for squatters, or disband or dismember their squatting party.

“Oh, dear,” the strange man said. He looked up through the knot. Mr.Castle was wearing lots of finery for his visit. Cabaso thought it was nice. He thought his party must be getting worried about now. The smell of dough was fading, and his head felt very large, a balloon about to pop, filled with helium. He wanted to take hold of it to make sure it didn’t fall off his shoulders.

The strange man dragged him a few more feet away from the squat party. Cabaso should have been infuriated by this. He should have turned around and reclaimed those feet.

“He is gone,” Mr.Castle said, agitated and hateful. “Just disappeared. Cuffs open. Well, he’s no thief, just a con artist. If you see him, though, you can still cut off his hands.”

Cabaso’s cranium swelled even more. He would have to poke it with something to deflate it, soon.

Mr.Castle moved again, into Cabaso’s full vision. Through the knot, he was an attractive shape, if a little large at the stomach. He looked exactly the Mr.Castle that had tried to drown him in a metal container a week (several days? A month?) ago, except for the addition of a remarkable piece of clothing that did not mean to sit on his head. The hat was like all the shadowed shades of colour.

Cabaso did touch his head, then, because he thought this thing in it might burst. He was only prodding his anger, he realized. Like prodding an animal only half-stuck in a trap. He looked fiercely at the hat on Mr.Castle’s head.

It was elegant. It was sophisticated and mysterious. It shone like a wet street. Something about Cabaso gave a little snap like a “twing”. 

“My hat,” he said.

It irritated Cabaso slightly that Algernon noticed the exact moment he woken up and did nothing about it. It would be a mistake for them both to run, right now. There was still a party of squatters in the bowels of these houses. They had no advantage except for being awake, and they were on vastly different pages. Algernon wanted to get away, only. What Cabaso wanted was on Mr.Castle’s head.

There was the matter of getting from the bowels of this house, to the ground level of Mr.Castle’s house.

“Excuse me, Algernon,” Cabaso said blandly. “I’ve just remembered what it is I’m here for and that I’m in perfect control of the situation. I should be getting along with it, actually.”

Algernon said, “Cabaso. Oh, dear brother, you don’t seem to understand exactly what’s going on. It’s a little more complicated than all that, I’m afraid.”

Cabaso, understanding exactly how complicated it was and how complicated it was not, said, “I am sure that if you would rather stay here, behind, you are welcome to. There are some very nice people in the other room that will welcome you with open arms. I, however, had something of extremely important business to attend to.”

“I’ve got this,” Algernon said.

Cabaso, who believed Algernon had, at the moment, nothing, wandered past him, into the cellar of Mr.Castle’s room. It was much easier to see how the squatters were really one entity from outside the party. They were all so incredibly dough-like. Mr.Castle, it turned out, was very bad at pest control, because they were very close to growing between the cracks of the floor boards. Cabaso had to be very careful about edging around them, toward the stairs that led up the ladder. Algernon was a little less careful, on account of trying to reach Cabaso before he revealed them both, but he was too slow. And anyway, Cabaso was good at big reveals.

He made a very flashy one in Mr.Castle’s store. Perhaps not the best of places to reveal himself. His coat, flung open dramatically and devastatingly, knocked over a couple second-hand lamps. And his delicate, dark fingers, outstretched for show, scraped one of the shelves. A nail broke. Cabaso tried not to let it affect his entrance.

“Oh, that’s very rude,” Mr.Castle said. He was holding a gun in Cabaso’s direction and though the hammer was cocked, Cabaso still felt worried at its presence. He did not like barrels pointed at him. Having Algernon climb up after him did not help.

“Hello again,” Cabaso said. “I’m afraid I haven’t the time to be almost drowned again. I have to be getting on. And you are actually a primary function in my getting on. Don’t try anything with that gun, now. They’re permanent, you know.”

“I do know. Where exactly do you plan to go next?”

Cabaso lifted one shoulder. The hat was in the same room as him, just on a devastatingly wrong head. “I could show you. If I had a map. And time. But you can’t expect me to stay, really.”

“I can, really. There’s a map there, on the counter. I want you to tell me where it is you think you’ll be going before I actually do kill you. Pick it up and unfold it, carefully. There you go. Come on. Hurry up. You, behind him, stop leaning over. I want to see- ah.”

Mr.Castle came forward to look at the map. The gun was still pointed at Cabaso. Through the floorboards below them rose the scent of dough. Cabaso held the map open before Mr.Castle. “This is a shame. I’d rather hoped you would put down the gun when you came to look. I also hoped I would have a more interesting route to show you, but it’s looking more and more like we won’t be getting very far. Just out of this room, isn’t that right, Algernon?”

Mr.Castle opened the one flap of the map that Cabaso hadn’t unfolded. He stepped on a floorboard that should have creaked, but took a moment too long, because the creak was coming from the floorboard being pushed in the wrong direction. Dust was dislodged from the grooves of it. Cabaso felt a slight pressure beneath his boots.

“I am going to enjoy killing you,” Mr.Castle said, pressing the gun into the side of Cabaso’s head. “And this time I won’t wait for you to drown. Directly at my hand, you see.”

Cabaso did see. He was also edging slowly toward the door, so slowly he was nearly holding his breath. The barrel of the gun pressed lightly into the side of his head, then not at all. What he needed, was to not be in this room, very quickly. He hoped that Algernon had been listening and that he was also aiming to be out of the room very quickly. There was the hat, which didn’t need to listen, but needed to be out of the room with them, very quickly. He would soon have to actually grab it.

Cabaso took a full step backward. Mr.Castle pulled the hammer on the gun back, eyes narrowed. He was tilted, a little, because the floorboard beneath him was. He bared his teeth at Cabaso. Cabaso noticed that Algernon was matching his pace in going backward, except perhaps he was moving a little more quickly. Cabaso hesitated, made a decision, and stumbled back several paces as though he’d lost his balance. Mr.Castle raised the gun, but did not shoot. Cabaso heard Algernon breathe in, very quickly.

“What is happening?” Mr.Castle said. His mouth was stretching sideways in the shape of dismay. The floorboard beneath his feet appeared to be buckling. He took a step back as well. The hat followed him.

“Your squatters are getting bigger,” Cabaso said. “I thought they would, if you were not careful. And you never seem to be. Algernon, you’re quite ready?”

He saw Algernon nod in the corner of his eye.

Mr.Castle aimed his gun again. They were unfortunately very close, and his aim was very accurate. “You are going to die today,” he informed Cabaso.

“Oh goodness, darling,” Cabaso said, pressing a hand to his heart. “Lies do not become us.”

And it was at this moment that the first of the squatters burst up through the floorboards, and broke several of them in the process. Because the first of the squatters was atop the rest of the squat party, and had become the rest of the squat party. They were no more than a rough collection of fingers and an outline of limbs that was melded somewhat into the rest of the party. They ballooned upward, white and thick and squishy, throwing Mr.Castle back.

Cabaso leapt upon the heap. It was an unpleasant heap to be atop, even for a second. The sour smell of dough filled his nostrils and every crevice of his head. The only forgiving thing was the feel of the hat’s brim between his fingers, then the hat in his palm, then the hat on his head as he fell back and made for the door, Algernon on his heels.

It was not unusual for people to run from the squat party, so the squat party had realized that it could stretch itself out in an effort to catch the runners too. It stretched toward Algernon and Cabaso as they flung themselves through the door and onto the ridge. It stretched on the ground floor and in the tunnels, and so there was not quite enough of it to stretch. They stretches not-quite hands toward the both of them and came up empty. They pulled back together, lest they accidentally sever part of themselves. It was frightening to be alone, anyway.

No one noticed Algernon and Cabaso running into the market, away from the pawn shops, toward the main ferry docks of the gorge. They slowed to a jog between the stalls, and when the space grew cramped and crowded, they slowed to a leisurely stroll to catch their breath.

“That was quite the risk you just took,” Algernon said, as the ridge wall fell away behind them. “Are you entirely sure it was worth it?”

Cabaso heard him only partially. He was inspecting the hat for damage and finding none. There was a bit of dough on the brim but he flicked it off and stepped around it on the ground. Let the market deal with it when it began to grow. He would be long gone. “Entirely.”

They walked deeper into the market, both looking over their shoulders for Mr.Castle and unwilling to admit they were looking. Cabaso had dusted the hat off long enough; he put it on.

It fit as it had before. Which was to say that it fit perfectly. The man beneath it looked a little fantastic. He was all cast in colours of shade, like you could not see him properly, even looking head on. Like he was meant to be cloaked in shadow. The twinkle in his eyes was darker than the twinkle in others eyes. The hat was magnificent on him, shining like wet pavement.

Cabaso adjusted it, just so, to be able to see out from beneath the brim without making the curve of the brim look like an invitation. He turned around and found that Algernon had performed a trick of vanishing enigmatically and mysteriously away into the crowd, without a goodbye, without a hint of his leaving or having been there in the first place.

It sounded like something a charismatic character would do in a story. Cabaso realized it was one of his pet peeves.

A lady in a stall beside him was giving him a look. He was not interested in the look right now, unless he could make its owner owe him a favour, but he wasn’t sure of the market’s future, and he definitely did not want to be a part of it, with Mr.Castle possibly still floating around somewhere, and a ball of dough squatters definitely floating about somewhere. So he tilted the hat to her and the hat took the gesture and turned it into something elegant, stately, regal, and charmed her with it, so that she would never forget the man in the shadowy hat with the charismatic smile. She did not know Cabaso, but she knew he was like no one else she had ever met.

Cabaso turned away, toward the gorge and his ride out of the market. There were some thoughts lingering around him, like the stray threads of a cobweb, about what was going to happen to the person under the hat and about whoever that might be, and about the people around him. Then he tilted the hat down and performed a trick of vanishing enigmatically and mysteriously away into the crowd, without a goodbye, without a hint of his leaving or having been there in the first place.

Text by Lucie MacAulay

Art by anonymous