City of Masks (11 page)

Scholars came and went, in robes, some splendid, some patched and grubby. One or two had white beards, but in the full midday sun they all clearly had shadows. Lucien pulled himself further into the shade of the tree, feeling conspicuous again. Rodolfo frowned.

‘This doesn’t feel right,’ he said. ‘I don’t think he’s here.’

‘Couldn’t he be inside?’ asked Lucien, ‘giving a lecture or conducting an experiment?’

‘It is perfectly possible,’ said Rodolfo in a low voice, ‘but we Stravaganti can usually tell when another of us is in the vicinity. We are drawn to one another, just as my mirror was to you. You would probably have found your way to me even if I hadn’t sent Alfredo to fetch you. Come, you are a Stravagante yourself – can you sense another of the brotherhood nearby?’

Lucien had to admit that he couldn’t. Rodolfo stood up and as he did, a bell struck one. That was the time when Lucien usually finished his morning lessons in the laboratory.

‘Arianna!’ he said now, suddenly aware how late it was. ‘She’ll be expecting me!’

‘There’s no need to worry,’ said Rodolfo. ‘I sent a message to her aunt that we had been called away today. Now come, we must look for our quarry elsewhere.’

As they set off through the town, Lucien smiled. He could imagine how frustrated Arianna would be to miss this trip. Fond as she was of Bellezza, she loved the idea of travelling and there didn’t seem to be much scope for girls to do that in the lagoon.

Montemurato looked like a film set to Lucien. The streets were all cobbled, the houses tall and crooked, the whole town dominated by the formidable bulk of the twelve towers that encircled it. It was easy to imagine swordfights, assignations in the dark, treachery, chivalry and intrigue. He noticed that the ordinary houses had two doors: one massive wooden affair with iron hinges and knockers and a smaller, newer one set higher in the wall, about three feet square. He asked Rodolfo about it.

‘The smaller ones are the doors of death,’ said Rodolfo, matter-of-factly. ‘A lot of people put them in during the Great Plague twenty years ago. They are for the coffins.’

Lucien shuddered in the warm sunshine. Someone walking over my grave, he thought. People were so practical about death here in the sixteenth century. It was all so hushed up somehow in his own world and time. He tried to shake off his morbid thoughts as they searched for Doctor Dethridge.

They tried the university library, the museum, the many churches and the small observatory at the top of one of the towers. No one had heard of anyone like the Stravagante. As it got later, Rodolfo reluctantly turned back towards the tower at which they had come in.

‘I’m sorry, Luciano,’ he said. ‘I seem to have brought you on a wild goose chase.’

‘It’s OK,’ said Lucien. ‘I don’t mind. It’s been very interesting.’

As they went to retrieve the horse, Rodolfo suddenly clutched Lucien’s shoulder. ‘It’s him,’ he whispered.

A white-haired but cleanshaven man was grooming a horse out in the stableyard, hissing through his teeth in a companionable way. He wasn’t old by Lucien’s standards, only a bit older than his own parents, but he was stooped and his teeth were crooked and discoloured.

‘That can’t be him,’ Lucien whispered back. ‘Look!’ He pointed at the stable floor. The afternoon sunlight slanted across the yard, casting shadows of horse and man clearly across the straw and cobbles. But Rodolfo advanced towards the groom anyway.

‘Dottore,’ Luciano heard him say softly, and the man dropped his brush in surprise. A minute later the two men were embracing and the ‘doctor’ was brushing a none-too-clean shirtsleeve across his eyes.

‘But what are you doing here?’ Rodolfo was asking. ‘We looked for you up at the university.’

Dethridge, for it did seem to be him, looked anxiously at Lucien.

‘Nay, al that is behinde mee,’ he said in a strange old-fashioned-sounding tongue, with a country burr.

Rodolfo looked round quickly, to see if they were alone.

‘Do not worry about the boy; he is one of us. Come, Luciano, step into the sunshine. See!’

Lucien felt shy as he stepped forward. He heard the Englishman gasp and felt hideously exposed standing there without a shadow – it was like being naked in front of a stranger.

Dethridge shook him by the hand, solemnly. ‘Well met, yonge mann. And wel ycome to the Brethrene. Me thought not to mete anothere suche as my selfe.’

*

The Duchessa was hungry for information, though the man in the rough clothes told her little that she did not already know. She was aware of the girl’s family circumstances already and just wanted to check that Arianna was who she thought she was.

‘They went to the islands, you say? She has brothers on Merlino, grandparents on Burlesca and her father is curator of the museum on Torrone? You are sure about all this?’

‘Absolutely sure,’ said the man. ‘And she is staying here on Bellezza with her aunt Leonora, in the house with the fountain off the campo San Sulien.’

‘Leonora,’ mused the Duchessa. ‘That must be Gianfranco’s brother’s widow.’

‘Signora Gasparini,
sì
,’ said her informant.

There was a silence. ‘Milady?’ he asked hesitantly. ‘Shall I continue to find out more?’

The Duchessa gathered herself together. ‘No. Thank you. I have all I need. You have been very helpful.’

And she gave him a purse, heavy with silver.

‘So,’ she said to herself, after he had gone. ‘A new piece has entered the game. One I have been waiting for ever since that night Rodolfo came to me with his strange readings. Will she be a pawn or a queen? We shall see.’

*

Rodolfo, Lucien and Doctor Dethridge were in a tavern. They had little time to talk before Lucien had to stravagate back and no one understood that better than the Elizabethan. But he wouldn’t go back to Bellezza with them.

‘I canne not,’ he said. ‘Bicause this Citie pleaseth me and kepeth mee sauf.’

It was strange; Lucien supposed he must have been speaking Talian like all the other people he had met in this world. He had no more trouble understanding the old man than he had listening to Rodolfo or Arianna. But he definitely sounded as though he came from four hundred years ago, even though he was living in the same time that Lucien was visiting. And, when he thought about it, Dethridge seemed to be speaking an old form of English, rather than Talian. Lucien shook his head; it was too difficult to analyse. He just concentrated on what the two men were saying.

‘But tell us what happened,’ Rodolfo was asking. ‘How have you become a citizen of Talia?’

Dethridge was obviously fearful. He looked over his shoulder before speaking in a low voice. ‘I was condemned to dye by fyre. They sayed I had mayde Magicke and was in converse with Devyls. There was noe waye to escape and so I stravayged to Bellona. What happened to mye erthly bodie I doe not knowe.’

He drank some wine with a shaking hand.

‘I had to hide my selfe in the Citie. I hadde no moneye and noe worke and I was stil afeard for mye life. So I travelled here and toke a lowly job and kept mye selfe hid, lest any one should see my Conditioun. Then my shadowe riturned to mee. On that daie I knew that I moste bee dede in mine olde Body and translated here for alwaies.’

He looked at Lucien. ‘You are of goode fortune, yonge mann. You may cum and goe bitwene the Worldes by the waie I opened. But I may travel that road no more. This is my onlye worlde now.’

Chapter 10

A Bridge of Boats

Lucien was more disturbed by meeting William Dethridge than by anything else that had happened to him in Talia. Until that moment, he had always been able to half pretend to himself that the time he spent in Bellezza was a fantasy – a kind of waking dream. His two lives were so different that it was easy to go along with each without thinking about the other. But meeting another Stravagante who travelled in the same direction as himself was a big shock. And not just any Stravagante but the man who had created the whole process more than four centuries ago. And now that man was stranded for the rest of his life in another world.

The time before the Maddalena Feast passed swiftly in both worlds. ‘Luciano’ made fireworks, talked obsessively to Rodolfo about Doctor Dethridge and continued his afternoon wanderings with Arianna, who was consumed with envy about his trip to Montemurato. Lucien used all his remaining energy to behave as much like his old self as possible, so that his parents would get used to leaving him on his own during the day.

But there was a problem in Talia too. Lucien was sure he was being followed. He had seen the man in the blue cloak several times on his explorations with Arianna and had not thought much about it. But he was sure he had glimpsed him in Montemurato too, and after that he had been keeping an eye out for him.

At the moment it made him no more than slightly uneasy, but being trailed was like having a mouth ulcer; he couldn’t ever be unaware of it. He wondered whether to say anything to Rodolfo about it, and when. He still hadn’t told him about meaning to come back for the Feast.

On the day of the Maddalena, Lucien woke up tired after spending the whole of his night helping Rodolfo set up the firework display on a raft at the mouth of the Great Canal. The larger set pieces, like the Maddalena herself, had been removed from the laboratory by a mixture of magic and hard labour, Rodolfo having shrunk them enough to get them through the laboratory door and down the stairs. Once on the waiting barge though, he had returned them to their monumental size.

Lucien had agreed with Arianna that he would collect her from her aunt’s house as soon as he had left Rodolfo and stravagated back to his home to check on what day it was there. Leonora had given approval for the two young people to go alone to the Feast. Although she had been told about Lucien’s belonging to another world, she had never referred to it and seemed to think him a very suitable companion for her niece.

It was a Sunday in his own world and Lucien was worried that his parents wouldn’t go out, but he persuaded them to visit a stately home with a fine garden. Now he struggled to keep his eyes open and fixed an animated smile on his face all through breakfast, while they took ages eating grapefruit and croissants and even reading the newspaper. At last they were gone, and he crawled back to bed to sleep for an hour. In order to convince his mother that he wouldn’t be alone all day, he had phoned Tom and invited him over later that morning.

The Reman Ambassador was nervous. It was his job to accompany the Duchessa across the bridge of boats to the Chiesa delle Grazie, knowing that the sylph on his arm was some peasant with a pretty figure. There would be no conversation because of the noise of the fireworks and that would also help to keep his mind off what was happening in the State mandola.

When Enrico called at the embassy to give his regular report, the Ambassador was glad of the distraction. He hadn’t taken the spy into his confidence but he was a useful tool; without him tonight’s plot would never have been conceived.

Now he could see the man had information he thought was going to be worth silver. He was big with it, like a woman in her ninth month.

‘All right, man, spit it out. I can see you have something to tell me,’ he said.

‘It’s the boy, Excellency, the Senator’s apprentice. I have been following him on your orders ever since that day I saw him go into Signor Rodolfo’s palazzo. There are things about him that can’t be explained.’

‘Take a seat and tell me more,’ said the Ambassador, pouring Enrico a large goblet of wine.

‘Well, they say he’s from Padavia, a cousin or something. But no one there has ever heard of a Luciano in the Rossi family. I checked it myself. Then, he’s never around after dark, only by day.’

‘These things are of mild interest I suppose,’ said the Ambassador coolly, ‘but not inexplicable. I expect he goes to bed early. Senator Rodolfo must be an exacting teacher.’

‘How about this then?’ said Enrico. ‘I followed him when he went out on a boat with his little girlfriend. They went to the islands, saw the glass museum, chatted to some fishermen, visited the cathedral on Torrone...’

‘Fascinating,’ said the Ambassador, ‘but I don’t see...’

‘With respect, Excellency,’ said Enrico, ‘if you’ll just let me get to the point. It was when they were coming back from Torrone. It was dark and the boy was in a bit of a state. It was the only time I’d ever seen him out in the evening and I was watching him carefully. Then suddenly he wasn’t there any more. It was only a few moments but he definitely disappeared. Then he was back, just as if he hadn’t ever been away.’

The Ambassador looked bored. ‘Is that it? I mean, it’s all very interesting but it could have been the light playing tricks on you. You can’t have been very close if you were in another boat. And you’ve admitted it was dark.’

‘Maybe,’ said Enrico. ‘And maybe I wouldn’t have noticed it. But there’s something else odd about the boy. He has no shadow.’

The effect on the Ambassador was electrifying. He sprang out of his chair, all appearance of indifference gone, and grabbed Enrico by the throat, showing surprising strength. The spy spluttered, dropping his wine and falling out of his chair.

‘What did you say?’ hissed the Ambassador. ‘Are you trying to play games with me?’

Enrico struggled to speak.

‘Please ... Excellency ... no games ... ’s true ... no shadow...’

The Ambassador released him. ‘You had better not be making this up,’ he said, pouring more wine for both of them. Enrico gulped his thirstily, massaging his bruised throat. But though his neck was hurting, he felt secretly elated. This had to mean good money.

When Tom rang the doorbell, Lucien was still asleep. He came down the stairs rubbing his eyes, but at least he was feeling more human.

‘Hey!’ said Tom. ‘I thought you were feeling better.’

‘I am, honestly,’ said Lucien, though he now felt bad about what he was going to do to Tom. At least they had a few hours together. Tom had brought lots of CDs and some photos of the disco. He was very chatty, because he had taken Katie and they were now an item. It was lucky that Lucien didn’t have to say much, because his mind was still on Bellezza, anticipating the night’s revels.

If you’d asked him a year ago whether he’d be more interested in a disco or watching fireworks with a lot of adults wearing masks, there would have been no contest, he thought. And there was no contest now.

The Ambassador was pacing his room in high excitement. It was all within his grasp now – Bellezza, the Kingdom, and now the key to the mystery that the di Chimici family had been pursuing for years. Then he, Rinaldo, would be one of the most important members of the family. Perhaps he would even become head of it? His ambition was without limit. A vision of a silver crown floated before his eyes.

*

‘Who is it this time?’ asked the Duchessa, but immediately became bored with the subject. ‘No, don’t tell me. Just put her in the dress, wind her up and set her off across the boats.’

She adjusted the lavender and silver mask, and went to meet the Reman Ambassador in her most formal audience chamber. It was lined with glass and mirrors and had been designed to confuse visitors. Thus, Rinaldo di Chimici found himself bowing to a reflection of a gorgeous vision in violet.

‘I’m over here,’ said the Duchessa mockingly, and at that moment the Ambassador was so furious at her treatment of him that he didn’t care any more about what was going to happen to her. By the end of the evening he would have Bellezza in the palm of his hand and a much greater goal within his reach.

The Ducal party walked the short distance to the Piazzetta, where the black and silver State mandola was moored, with an only slightly less ornate one behind it. Di Chimici handed the Duchessa formally into the first vessel, where she was instantly engulfed in a flurry of silver brocade, which was then tightly drawn around the cabin in the middle. Then he stepped into the second mandola and the two boats moved out towards the mouth of the Great Canal.

Lucien and Arianna were on the near side of the water, waiting for the fireworks. The Duchessa would step on to the bridge of boats and then, escorted by the Ambassador, walk across it to the new church and declare it open. At that moment the fireworks would begin. While the consecration service was being performed by the Bishop of Bellezza, the State mandola would glide across the canal to collect the Duchessa and bring her back to the square. A feast would be waiting in her Palazzo, for all the dignitaries of church and state. The people, in the usual manner of lagooners, would hold their own party in the Piazza.

‘I can’t wait to see the fireworks!’ said Arianna excitedly. ‘Aren’t you thrilled to think you made some of them? What’s the best one going to be?’

‘It’s a secret,’ said Lucien, ‘You’ll have to wait and see.’

He was as jumpy as a cat with new kittens. He kept thinking that any minute now, Rodolfo would realize he hadn’t stravagated back to his own world and come striding through the crowd to dispatch him home. He was also sure he had spotted the man in the blue cloak in the mass of people thronging the canalside.