City of Masks (10 page)

It was a bitter realization that took some of the joy out of making the fireworks, but as the morning wore on, Lucien became absorbed in what he was doing. A lot of it was what he would have described as science even in his world, mixing gunpowder with various chemicals that would produce different colours when ignited. But for the set pieces, Rodolfo used techniques that were much closer to what Lucien would have called magic.

On his workbench were glass jars containing all sorts of glittering substances in unearthly colours and strange objects, which only a magician would have in his possession. Lucien watched in amazement as Rodolfo unstoppered a jar that seemed to contain a miniature skeleton of a dragon and muttered words over it. It crumbled instantly to a fine green powder, which Rodolfo tamped down into the shell of the firework they were working on, adding a swirl of red and gold glitter which moved in his hands as he poured it in.

He glanced up at Lucien’s face, amused. ‘A cheap effect, but it always goes down well with the crowd,’ he said. ‘Now, let’s take a break before the next one.’

Lucien dragged his mind away from the world of night-time explosions and fire in the sky.

‘Did you find out anything about Doctor Dethridge?’ he asked, as they stepped out into the roof garden.

‘Not yet,’ said Rodolfo. ‘I have sent messages to my fellow-Stravaganti in Bellona, Remora, Giglia, all the big cities. It took all yesterday. I wished I had your magic to do all this by the cables you told me about. But I had to use the science of mirrors instead and it was a tedious search. Everyone is now looking for evidence of a man without a shadow, but there is no news as yet.’

‘Rodolfo,’ asked Lucien suddenly. ‘Why did you bring me here?’

Rodolfo looked surprised. ‘I didn’t bring you here, Luciano. I merely left the talisman. I did not know who would find it. The talismans have a way of finding the right person.’

‘But why then?’

‘Every month at full moon I use various methods of divination. A few months ago I was reading cards and casting stones to see if I could see into the future and a pattern emerged which I didn’t understand. It involved the Duchessa and danger and a young girl. It also showed a book and I had already chosen your notebook to be the next talisman. It seemed as if it might be time to take it to your world.’ Rodolfo did not mention the Death card.

‘And why did you take it there, so close to where I live and go to school?’

‘I didn’t know anything about you at the time. I went back to where Doctor Dethridge lived, in Barnsbury. In his time it was a country village. Now it seems to be part of North London. The site of his house and laboratory are unrecognizable. I saw what I now know must have been your school, but I did not know what it was then. It was big and full of people, so I left the talisman in a house next door and hoped it would be near enough.’

‘But how did you get it into the house?’ asked Lucien.

‘I pushed it through a rectangular hole in the front door,’ said Rodolfo.

‘I still don’t understand why you bring talismans into my world, though,’ said Lucien. ‘I mean, is it to make more Stravaganti?’

‘In a way,’ said Rodolfo slowly. ‘That was how Doctor Dethridge did it in the first few years. But there have been only a few visitors from your world since him. It seems as if they come only to help when we have a crisis.’

‘Are there a lot of crises?’ asked Lucien.

Rodolfo sighed. ‘Too many. The di Chimici want to rule all Talia. Oh, they call it a Republic now, but you can be sure that once it is all in their grasp, it will become a Kingdom, an Empire even, as in the old days when Remora ruled over all the Middle Sea and beyond. But Bellezza resists them.’

‘They want you to join?’ asked Lucien.

‘They want the Duchessa to sign a document committing Bellezza to join their Republic,’ said Rodolfo. ‘They have been trying to annex the lagoon for nearly a hundred years.’

‘But you’re not at war with them? I mean, the Reman ambassador is here and
he’s
a di Chimici,’ said Lucien.

‘Not at war, no,’ said Rodolfo. ‘There has been mutual hatred between us ever since the night of the glass mask – I think you’ve heard that story? – but we have been very civilized about it. Poisonings there may have been, the odd stabbing. But not all-out war. That’s not the way the di Chimici like to work. They have grown strong in Talia by plotting, political marriages and stealth.’

‘Is it true that the Duchessa poisoned the Glass Master and then killed the Reman Prince?’ asked Luciano.

Rodolfo shrugged. ‘Possibly. It’s the sort of thing a Duchessa might do. Duchesse are dangerous enemies. They are fiercely protective of their city. Silvia would have no mercy on anyone who tried to take Bellezza from her.’

‘But the Prince was only dancing with her,’ protested Lucien. ‘I mean with the other Duchessa.’

‘And perhaps tripped her while she was wearing the glass mask?’ suggested Rodolfo.

‘But the Glass Master? He didn’t mean to hurt her – he made that mask on her orders. Why did she poison him?’

‘His work damaged her beauty. And she was Bellezza. It was like blowing up the cathedral,’ said Rodolfo. ‘All Bellezzans think that way. They wouldn’t have been shocked.’

‘But you don’t approve, do you?’ asked Lucien.

‘Not really,’ said Rodolfo. ‘He was my ancestor, you know. I base a lot of my fireworks on his glass designs. Now, it’s time we worked on the centrepiece of the Maddalena’s display.’

*

Rinaldo di Chimici was running out of patience. He had been visiting Bellezza for months and was tired of it. Every journey was uncomfortable; he had to leave his carriage on the mainland, because of the ridiculous Bellezzan laws about horses, and then take a boat, which made him feel sick.

His apartments were sumptuous but just being in the city made him ill. He kept a scent-soaked handkerchief pressed to his nose almost the whole time, because of the smell from the canals, and he had all his food tasted for him before he would touch it. He did not trust the Duchessa. And he did not think he was going to prevail against her by argument.

So he had sent, reluctantly, for a tall red-headed young man with a merlino-blade hidden under his cloak.

‘Why can’t she just sign?’ the Ambassador complained, thinking aloud. He was trying to justify his next course of action. The Duchessa was a woman, after all. ‘What is so special about this overgrown swamp village that she insists on keeping it independent?’

Guido Parola remained silent. Remora was paying him handsomely for what they wanted him to do. But the Duchessa was Bellezza and Bellezza was his city. Large sums of money might persuade him to strike it down, but no one could pay him enough to criticize it – that would be treachery.

‘Anyway, you know your orders. The Feast of the Maddalena. Ignore the Duchessa that the crowd will be applauding. The real one will be in the State mandola. There won’t be room for guards – just a waiting-woman or two. And, according to my information, Senator Rodolfo, who hardly ever leaves her side, will be busy with his fireworks.’

Parola nodded. It would be easier if there were two Duchesse. Easier to succeed and easier to convince himself that the real one was out there on the bridge of boats and the one in the mandola was just an ordinary, middle-aged woman.

*

‘Now, with this one, we will work together,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Then you can make some more of the Reman candles and rockets by yourself tomorrow.’

He uncovered a huge wire structure in the corner of the laboratory. It was in the shape of a woman, with long hair.

‘Here she is,’ said Rodolfo, ‘our patron lady and saint. The hair is the most important part. You know the story of how she anointed the Lord’s feet and dried them with her long hair?’

‘I know that’s what Mary Magdalen did in my world,’ said Lucien. ‘At least I know there’s that story in the Bible.’ He still had no idea what the Bellezzans believed in. Their churches seemed such a strange mixture of his world’s Christianity and an older, pagan religion.

‘Maria Maddalena,’ nodded Rodolfo. ‘It is the same story. Our saint was once a sinner, who served the Lord. She was redeemed and became almost as important in the Middle Sea as our Lady goddess. Have you heard the story of how she destroyed the dragon by weeping over him? Now, hand me that jar.’

They worked for the rest of the morning in companionable silence. By lunchtime the framework of the body was filled with packets of explosives and minerals which would outline it dramatically against the sky.

‘Now for the hair,’ said Rodolfo.

Lucien remembered something. ‘In my world, I think Mary Magdalen has golden hair, but you don’t think much of gold in Bellezza.’ Rodolfo looked surprised.

‘Golden hair is unusual in Talia, but we wouldn’t disprize it – it is not the element, after all. Still, it doesn’t arise with the Maddalena. Our patron lady had black hair,’ he said. ‘But you’re right that there is a problem. Black hair doesn’t show against the night sky. He went to a high shelf and took down a glass flask they hadn’t used before. It shone in his hands, sending prismatic colours dazzling through the laboratory. Lucien had to shield his eyes.

When he could focus again, he saw that the jar was full of rainbows. Rodolfo smiled at his apprentice’s amazement.

‘We shall wreath her hair with moonbows,’ said Rodolfo. ‘It will be full moon on the night of the Maddalena’s feast, and the silver light will shine through each arc of colour. And every red-blooded Bellezzan will dive into the canal to find the real pots of silver at the end of each lock.’

That was the moment that Lucien decided he would be in Talia for Rodolfo’s firework display no matter what it cost him.

Chapter 9

Twelve Towers

The Duchessa had spent the morning presiding over her Council. The two hundred and forty Councillors found it difficult to reach a consensus on the seven criminal charges brought before them and the Duchessa had found it even harder not to yawn.

Perhaps I’ll invent a special new large mask for Council meetings, she thought, one that covers the mouth as well as the eyes. She could hardly use a substitute for such important criminal proceedings, where she sometimes had to give a casting vote and always proclaimed sentence.

Only one convicted criminal had been led off across the Bridge of Sorrow to her dungeons today. ‘I must be getting soft in my old age,’ the Duchessa said to no one in particular.

‘Surely not, Your Grace,’ said her youngest waiting-woman, who then put her hand to her mouth, fearing that she had been rude. ‘I mean, milady, that you are not old, not that you are not soft, I mean...’

The Duchessa chose to be amused. ‘What is your name, child?’

‘Barbara, milady,’ said the young woman, curtseying.

‘Well, Barbara, aren’t you the one I sent to find out about the girl in the Piazza? Is there any news?’

‘Yes, milady. There is a man waiting to see you downstairs.’

‘Then why hasn’t he been sent up?’

‘Milady, your dressmaker is waiting to give you a final fitting of your gown for the Maddalena Feast,’ said another of her women. ‘We did not think you would want to postpone that.’

The Duchessa thought for a while. ‘Very well. Send down to make sure the messenger is well entertained and I’ll see him as soon as the dressmaker has gone. I hope she has made both dresses.’

*

Arianna couldn’t wait to see Lucien again. Ever since the incident on the boat, she had been dying to talk to him about it. As soon as they were on their own, exploring the back streets of Bellezza, she said, ‘What happened? Did you get into trouble?’

‘Almost,’ said Lucien. ‘It was a close thing.’

‘We mustn’t ever let that happen again,’ said Arianna seriously. ‘I mean, we were lucky to be out on a boat in the middle of the lagoon, with hardly any others on the water. Or you could have caused a sensation and word would have got back to the di Chimici.’

Lucien hesitated, then decided to take Arianna into his confidence. ‘Of course we mustn’t let it happen by accident. But I’m going to try and stay a whole night on purpose.’

Arianna stopped walking and stared at him.

‘How are you going to manage that? And why?’

‘I’m going to persuade my parents to leave me on my own. And I’m going to be here. I’m not going to miss the festival. I’ve been making fireworks for it all morning.’

‘Does Rodolfo know?’ asked Arianna.

‘I’m not going to tell him,’ said Lucien calmly, although he didn’t feel altogether comfortable about this decision. What if Rodolfo detected his presence still here on Bellezza, like last time? He was sure the magician would not approve.

*

The dressmaker had remembered to make two dresses, although she had no idea that one of them was for the substitute the Duchessa would use for her appearance at the feast of the Maddalena. She believed, like all the other dressmakers in Bellezza, that the Duchessa was extremely vain. The second dress, like all the ones worn on important occasions, would be preserved in a room in the Palazzo that was open to the public. The dressmaker understood that it must have a tiny waist and fall in slender folds about the hips. She never went to festivals herself, so she would not see how youthful the Duchessa would look as she stepped lightly from boat to boat, over the improvised bridge of boats across the Great Canal to the new church.

The dress and its companion were beautiful. Indeed the Duchessa’s gown was only one size larger than her substitute’s, though no one would mistake her for a young girl any more. She didn’t use a substitute out of vanity, although she had that in abundance. She had started the practice more than fifteen years ago, for good reasons of her own. Now she found she rather enjoyed the risk of being discovered.

Silvia was restless. She had been Duchessa for two and half decades and she longed to do something more active for her city than wear beautiful dresses, particularly now that it was under such threat from the di Chimici. Still, this one was rather fine; the violet satin matched her eyes, which shone from the lavender mask, decorated with silver sequins and trimmed with purple feathers, that she would wear with it. She looked like an exotic bird as she preened before her looking-glass.

‘Excellent! Help me out of this now though. I am anxious for my next appointment.’

The dressmaker was ushered out rather hastily but was mollified by the cakes and wine she was plied with in the outer room. She was curious as she watched the Duchessa’s next visitor enter her private apartment in his rough working clothes. He didn’t look like a mask-maker, or a hairdresser or any of the other dozens of people dedicated to the Duchessa’s beautification and adornment.

‘Come in, come in,’ said the Duchessa, adjusting her plain green silk mask, for which she had changed the State one as soon as the dressmaker had gone. ‘Tell me about the girl.’

‘Why don’t you and Dad get back to normal?’ suggested Lucien. ‘I’m so much better now. You could go back to teaching in the schools, Mum.’

Vicky Mulholland was a violin teacher. She visited several schools in the borough and, after school and in the holidays, she taught pupils in her own home. But ever since Lucien had been so ill, all this term, she had almost stopped working.

‘I don’t know,’ said his mother. ‘Isn’t it a bit soon to leave you?’

‘Don’t be silly, Vicky,’ said his father. ‘Perhaps Lucien is trying to tell us, ever so tactfully, that he’d like to spend some time on his own or with his own friends. There’s no need to mollycoddle him, you know.’

Lucien was grateful. The old Dad wouldn’t have noticed something like that.

‘As a matter of fact, I was thinking of spending some more time with Tom,’ he said. ‘We still have a lot to catch up on. But I’ll be fine on my own too. I know I’m not ready to go back to school but it’s nearly the holidays and I can amuse myself for a week or two.’

‘Well, as long as you always have my mobile number and call me the minute you feel worse,’ said Vicky.

‘Mum!’ said Lucien, in an exasperated tone, though he felt guilty about the deception he was planning. ‘I’m not made of glass, you know. My last check-up showed I’m stable and the tumour’s gone way down. The doctor even said I could go back to school after the holidays. Surely I can spend my days vegging out at home without you worrying?’

His mother sighed. ‘You’re right. I fret too much, I know.’

She smiled and ran her hand across his fuzzy head. ‘But I’m going to write my mobile number on the noticeboard all the same.’

When Lucien returned to Bellezza, Rodolfo was in a state of high excitement and it was clear that all thought of firework-making had gone out of his head. He was dressed for travel, in leather boots and a cloak, and had prepared a similar outfit for Lucien.

‘Good, you’re early. We have a good few hours’ journey ahead of us,’ he said as soon as Lucien materialized in the laboratory. ‘We’re going to Montemurato – I think I’ve found Doctor Dethridge.’

There was no time to ask questions. Alfredo sculled Rodolfo’s mandola up the canal and past the Scuola Mandoliera, to the far end of the island where a boat waited to take them to the mainland. As they cut through the water, Rodolfo filled Lucien in on developments.

‘One of our brotherhood did see Doctor Dethridge in Bellona about two years ago and it must have been after the last time I saw him. But since then he has not made contact with any other Stravaganti. However, news has reached one of our number in Remora of an Englishman living in Montemurato. It is worth investigating.’

‘And where is that?’ asked Lucien, feeling adventurous in his pantomime boots.

‘About an hour’s ride once we get to the mainland,’ said Rodolfo.

Lucien swallowed. He had never sat on a horse in his life. But he couldn’t bring himself to admit it. Still, once they had disembarked and he saw the huge animal waiting on the quay, Lucien’s heart sank. There was no way he could pretend to ride something like that.

When an ostler came forward with a wooden mounting block, Lucien opened his mouth to explain, but Rodolfo spoke first.

‘I’ll mount and then you can sit in front of me. This beast is strong enough to carry both of us. Just hang on to the front of the saddle and you will be quite safe – even if not comfortable.’

Lucien was so relieved that he wasn’t too frightened, even though Rodolfo did ride extremely fast. The horse was very powerful and yet Lucien was sure that Rodolfo had whispered some sort of spell into its ear before they set off. No ordinary horse could have travelled so fast; the landscape blurred as they rode through it.

Then gradually their surroundings seemed to slow down and clarify. Lucien saw a hill in the distance with a walled town on top of it. As they got nearer, he could see that in among the walls were set many towers.

‘Montemurato,’ said Rodolfo, reining the steaming horse in to a walk. ‘The walled mountain. There are twelve towers altogether surrounding the city. Each one is a watchtower – a very safe place for someone hiding from a death sentence, wouldn’t you say?’

The watchtowers were evidently occupied, since guards suddenly appeared at the gate below the nearest one. Rodolfo dismounted lightly, helping down the stiff and aching Lucien from the horse’s back. It was his job to hold the horse by the reins, while Rodolfo explained their errand to the city watch.

‘We are looking for an Anglese,’ he said. ‘A learned man, a scholar, with a white beard. No, I don’t know what he was calling himself. Guglielmo, perhaps, with a family name beginning with D.’

‘Don’t know anyone of that name and description,’ shrugged the guard. But if it’s a scholar you’re after, you’d better try the university.’ He made a mark on a scrap of vellum and gave it to Rodolfo. ‘This allows you and your companion to stay in Montemurato till sundown. After that you’re in breach of the law.’

‘Thank you,’ said Rodolfo, with a reassuring look at Lucien. ‘We’ll be gone long before that. Now I need stabling and provender for my horse.’

The guard told him where to go and the travellers walked up the steep cobbled street into the city. They stopped and bought a flask of wine, some bread, olives and peaches from a wayside stall. Then they sat and ate their lunch on a stone bench under a fig tree outside the door of the university.