by Mary Hoffman
‘Who are they?’ asked Arianna, as the couple moved to the start-point.
‘They look like Zinti,’ said Rodolfo. ‘The wandering people. They come here for the festival of the Goddess. It happens on the same day as the race.’
They watched as another impromptu race began. The big grey won by a neck, carrying the two riders as easily as if they were one. As they dismounted and the woman led the man out of the Campo, Arianna gasped.
‘He’s blind!’ she said.
‘Zinti have more ways of seeing than other people,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Isn’t it time you were asleep?’
‘I couldn’t,’ she said. ‘Do you think we were right to come here?’
‘I think it will be perfectly safe, if that’s what you mean,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Whatever the situation might have been before, I think Niccolò is too distracted by his son’s illness to arrange any kind of trouble.’
‘What about the trouble he’s already arranged?’ asked Arianna.
‘You mean Gaetano?’ said Rodolfo. ‘Is he giving you trouble?’
Arianna shrugged. ‘It’s been harder than I thought it would be. I really like him and now he’s terribly upset about his little brother. It will be hard to refuse him.’
‘You think his heart is in this courtship?’
Arianna was silent.
‘I saw Luciano this morning,’ said Rodolfo.
‘How was he?’ asked Arianna eagerly.
‘Very anxious,’ said Rodolfo. ‘He wants to see you. But he doesn’t want to come here. Duke Niccolò has got it into his head that Luciano and the new Stravagante are involved in his son’s suicide attempt.’
‘But that’s ridiculous!’ said Arianna. ‘Luciano wouldn’t do that.’
‘I thought that you might like to meet him somewhere neutral,’ said Rodolfo. ‘I’ve suggested to Gaetano that he should take us on a visit to Belle Vigne tomorrow. Luciano will meet us there.’
Georgia was finding it hard to fill her days in London. She spent a lot of time asleep, catching up on all the hours she lost in Remora. Already she was thinking, as Luciano had the summer before, that she wouldn’t be able to keep it up when she went back to school in September. And that made her very sad. Talia would be an occasional treat, to see Cesare and his family. Luciano would surely go back to Bellezza with Arianna and Rodolfo after the race and she wouldn’t be able to visit him there. Her talisman would only get her to Remora and you couldn’t get to Bellezza and back in a day from there. Gaetano and his family would return to Giglia once Falco had died and the same applied to that city although it was closer than the City of Masks.
She had only a week left to enjoy her time in the Talian city with all her friends and enemies still there. Now that the Stravaganti were all together, at least all the ones she knew anything about, there was a feeling that a crisis was approaching. But Georgia didn’t know what it was. Would it be because of danger threatening Luciano and her?
Georgia wasn’t too afraid for herself; she could always stravagate back home as long as she had her talisman. But Luciano could be killed in Talia if Duke Niccolò decided to avenge his son’s death in that way. And then she would have lost him twice.
And then she would remember that Luciano had been captured before and his talisman taken from him; he had told her that story now. And if that happened to her, she would be as Falco was in Remora now, as Luciano had been when he was still Lucien and his parents had agreed to having the life support system switched off.
Such thoughts left her in a cold sweat and she became all the more impatient to get back to Remora and find out what was going on. She was dying to ask about the Duchessa. If Silvia was the person Duke Niccolò was supposed to have assassinated, what was she doing coolly turning up in Remora? And what was her daughter doing ruling Bellezza?
The Bellezzans’ carriage was all ready to leave when Georgia next arrived in Remora.
‘Get in,’ said Luciano, waving. ‘We’re going to Belle Vigne.’
Dethridge was inside the carriage in a jovial mood.
‘Well come, young George,’ he said. ‘We are going to paye a visit to the ruins of a Rassenan settlemente. And mayhap we shalle fynde othires making the same journey!’
Luciano was smiling in his corner of the carriage and Georgia felt her heart sink.
And there indeed at Belle Vigne their carriage drew up next to one with the Giglian di Chimici crest on it – the lily and the perfume bottle. As Georgia climbed up the grassy hill she had last seen with Gaetano and Falco, she made out some figures at the top. Rodolfo, Gaetano and a slim and elegant young woman who could only be the Duchessa.
Georgia hung back at the top as Dethridge went forward to embrace Arianna. Luciano was right behind them but the greeting he gave the Duchessa seemed a lot more formal and there was some constraint between them. Luciano nodded at Gaetano, then turned to draw Georgia into the group.
‘And this is Giorgio,’ he said.
Georgia was surprised that he used the male form of her name, then noticed that there was another member of the party. As she gave Arianna her hand, she was aware that Gaetano was introducing Dethridge and Luciano to his older brother, Fabrizio. But it was difficult to think of anything else while observed by those violet eyes. They were surrounded by a light turquoise silk mask, the first Georgia had ever seen in Talia, which perfectly matched the Duchessa’s elegant dress.
She had the same effect on Georgia that her mother had, making her feel awkward and clumsy. But she was friendly enough.
‘Giorgio,’ she said. ‘I have heard much about you.’
‘So have I,’ said Fabrizio, coming forward to take Georgia’s hand. He was like his father, much more so than Gaetano was. Tall and broad with black hair and a strong intelligent face, he looked every inch the Duke he would one day be. ‘I hear you are very close to my brother Falco.’
‘I am,’ said Georgia. ‘He was – is – a good friend.’
‘And yet my father tells me you can shed no light on this terrible act of his?’
‘I can only say what I have already told the Duke – that Falco was depressed about his injuries.’
Gaetano came to her rescue. ‘Leave the lad alone, Fabrizio,’ he said. ‘He can only tell you what you already know. Falco found his pain hard to bear – that and his inactivity.’
‘But these things he had lived with for two years,’ protested Fabrizio, and Georgia could see he was really distressed. ‘Why give up now?’
‘Because Father had plans for him that he could not face perhaps?’ said Gaetano quietly.
‘What plans?’
‘You must ask Father.’
Rodolfo came to show Fabrizio and Gaetano some find of his and Dethridge linked arms with Georgia. She could see what the whole outing had been arranged for – to give Luciano and Arianna some time alone together. She tried not to look in their direction but she was acutely aware of their voices behind her and found it difficult to concentrate on Doctor Dethridge’s kind attempts to engage her attention. In the end he stopped and peered closely at her.
‘Yt wille not doe,’ he said, shaking his shaggy grey head. ‘Sum thinges can not bee. Ye wol ende up lyke poore yonge Falcon if ye can not make up your minde whatte worlde ye live in.’
Georgia started. Did Dethridge know what Falco had done? Or was he just comparing her to a pale and lifeless boy because that was what her feelings for Luciano had reduced her to? You could never tell with him; he was the only person apart from Luciano who had ever made that dreadful permanent transition from one world to another so he might suspect something. Still, what he did know was bad enough.
‘I know,’ she said quietly. ‘I know it’s a hopeless case. But I can’t help it.’
Dethridge patted her hand.
*
‘How was your journey?’ asked Luciano.
‘Very interesting,’ said Arianna. ‘I saw Volana and Bellona and Giglia. And now Remora. What a fascinating place!’
&nb
sp; ‘We don’t need to make small talk now, Arianna,’ said Luciano. ‘The others can’t hear us. I missed you. I hate it that we can’t be together without all these people around.’
‘Duchesse don’t spend much time alone, as you are well aware,’ said Arianna.
‘And do Duchesse have so much company that they don’t miss their friends when they are away from them?’ Luciano persisted, smiling.
She smiled back. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not so much as that. But you haven’t been exactly a hermit. You seem very friendly with the new Stravagante. Has it been pleasant for you to be with someone from your old world?’
‘Not altogether,’ said Luciano. ‘She has brought some painful associations with her.’
Arianna froze beside him. ‘She?’ she said disbelievingly.
‘Yes. Didn’t Rodolfo tell you? Georgia goes to my old school and I used to know her.’
‘So that is how girls look in your world!’ said Arianna with a mixture of curiosity and scorn.
‘Not all, no,’ said Luciano, nettled. ‘Georgia’s a bit different from most girls. And because she wears her hair so short, we decided to pass her off as a boy.’
‘And a good job you made of it,’ said Arianna bitterly. ‘You must have learned that from me.’
It brought back vivid memories of their first meeting in Bellezza, when Arianna was dressed as a boy and furiously angry with Luciano – as she seemed to be again now.
‘Come,’ she said. ‘I must not neglect my hosts.’ And she spent the rest of her time being charming to Gaetano and Fabrizio di Chimici.
*
Georgia and Luciano were both in poor spirits when they returned to the Ram. They had not had much to say to each other in the carriage and Doctor Dethridge had appeared to sleep for most of the journey. Some time after their return there was a furious knocking on the door.
Rodolfo strode into Paolo’s kitchen, not looking stooped at all now. His eyes were flashing and he appeared furious. Georgia found him quite terrifying, just as formidable as the Duke.
But at least his anger seemed to be directed mainly at Luciano.
‘What have you done?’ he asked. ‘No, don’t tell me. I know what you have done. Befriending a damaged boy, spending every day and some nights with him. And then he falls into a mysterious sleep after apparently taking poison.’
‘This you knew before,’ said Luciano quietly.
‘But now I have seen him,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Fabrizio took me to meet his father in the hospital, since the Duke would not come to me. And I saw the boy. Did you think I would not know the body of someone who was away in the other world?’
He rounded on Georgia. ‘And you, you must have brought a talisman from your world. Have you any idea how dangerous that is for an untrained Stravagante?’
He strode up and down the kitchen.
‘You I can understand,’ he said to Georgia. ‘A newcomer impressed by the demands of a sick boy. I suppose you have taken him there to cure him. But Luciano – after all I have taught you. How could you be so reckless?’ He turned again to Georgia.
‘There is only one thing for it. You must bring him back immediately!’
Chapter 20
Flying Colours
Georgia woke up in her own world in a state of panic. She had almost expected Rodolfo to stravagate back with her, he was so furious. The idea of the black-velvet-clad figure turning up in her room and having to be explained if Russell bumped into him on the landing made her hysteria rise. But then she relaxed. Rodolfo was not here and, even if he had been, he would have been more than a match for Russell. It might almost have been worth seeing.
She hurried through the morning routine, anxious to get to Falco, but as she got near his house, she realised that she didn’t know what to say to him. How could she persuade him to go back to Talia now that he was on the waiting list for his operation? And how would the Mulhollands be able to bear it if another boy was lost to them?
She respected Rodolfo but she didn’t think he was right about this. Still her heart sank at the thought of defying him. Caught between him and the grief-crazed Duke, both wanting Falco back, Georgia couldn’t visualise how it could possibly work out. Had she completely misunderstood her mission to Remora?
‘Hi, Georgia,’ said Falco, letting her in. ‘How’s everything?’
He was already looking better than he ever had in Talia. He was eating well and enjoying being part of an ordinary family. In fact he was rapidly becoming a twenty-first-century boy.
‘Not good,’ said Georgia. ‘Can we talk?’
‘Vicky is out,’ said Falco. ‘She has gone to a friend’s house to practise in her string quartet.’
‘Rodolfo has found out what we helped you do,’ said Georgia.
‘And he is not pleased?’
‘That’s putting it mildly!’
Falco looked scared, even though he had never met Rodolfo. ‘He’s not coming here, is he?’
‘I don’t think so,’ said Georgia. ‘Not if he didn’t last night. He was so mad that I thought he might do it then.’
‘What for, though?’ asked Falco. ‘What could he do?’
Georgia hesitated. ‘He wants you to go back.’
Falco turned ashen. ‘I won’t do it,’ he said fiercely. ‘I haven’t done all this just to go back.’
‘Perhaps you should think about it,’ said Georgia. ‘No, let me finish,’ she said, because Falco was already protesting. ‘You don’t know what effect this is having on your family. They’re all there in Remora – Gaetano and everyone – and your father never leaves your bedside.’
Falco stared at her, the tears starting in his eyes. ‘But I can’t,’ he whispered. ‘It was too hard to do the first time. It will be worse for them all, especially Father, if I go back and then translate after that.’
‘Rodolfo wants me to make you go back for good,’ said Georgia.
‘Then you must destroy the talisman,’ said Falco firmly.
Georgia looked at him in astonishment.
‘Take the ring and melt it down – or throw it away,’ he insisted.
‘You are amazing, you know,’ said Georgia. ‘Are you serious? I thought you might want me to hang on to it in case you changed your mind.’
‘I don’t want to be able to change my mind,’ said Falco. ‘And if you get rid of it, I won’t be able to.’
In the early morning Cesare was ready down at the track with Arcangelo for the second heat. He had been nervous at the first one the night before and the Ram had come in ninth. But today was different. He felt clear-headed, energetic and ready to ride.
He was wearing the red and yellow colours of the Ram and all around him were other jockeys wearing the colours of their own Twelfths. Some of the horses had been decided on only after the moonlight races and some of the jockeys even later. So Cesare had an advantage, because he and Arcangelo had been riding at the practice-track together for weeks.
‘That’s the one to beat,’ said Enrico to Riccardo, the Twins’ Horsemaster, as Cesare manoeuvred Arcangelo between the ropes.
‘You think so?’ said Riccardo. ‘He wasn’t very fast yesterday.’
‘Just feeling his way into it,’ said Enrico. ‘Trust me – that’s the best combination in the Campo.
‘Surely nothing our Silk can’t beat?’ said Riccardo.
All the jockeys who had ridden in a Stellata before had nicknames. The Twins’ man was Silk and the Lady’s was Cherubino. Paradoxically he was the oldest jockey there, having ridden in fifteen previous races. He was thirty-three, though he still had the fresh baby-face which had given him his soubriquet. Two other jockeys besides Cesare were first-timers, waiting to acquire their own nicknames; they were running for the Lioness and the Water-carrier.
Emilio, Horsemaster for the Lady, was watching with Enrico and Riccardo in the wooden stands that now encircled the Campo. He was inclined to agree that the Ram had a strong combination this year, though reasonably confident that the pa
cts he had made would secure a victory for Cherubino and the Lady. Unless the Twins had laid out even more money on their pacts, of course.
In the last twenty years, the Stellata had been won by the Lady or the Twins fourteen times. But even the most elaborate and expensive pacts couldn’t be sure to secure a victory, and other Twelfths, not so supportive of the di Chimici family, had managed to win on the other six occasions. The Ram, however, hadn’t had a win for a generation. And the last time it had been won by Paolo.
The omens were looking promising for the Ram. They had a good mount and a jockey who was son of their last victor. And they had a secret augury of good fortune, which only the Horsemaster’s house knew about – the birth of the winged horse. Cesare held on to that thought even though Merla was now missing. He tried to forget that this was the time the Ram should have brought Merla out and vaunted their good fortune to the whole city.
The horses were lined up and ready to start. The twelfth horse, the Rincorsa, which in this heat was the horse for the Scales, entered the ropes at a gallop and the race was off to a flying start. The Scorpion was first away and led the first lap but Cesare overtook their jockey Razzo on Celeste halfway round the second lap and remained in the lead to the end.
He was beaming with joy as Paolo came up to embrace him at the finish. All the Twelvers of the Ram escorted horse and rider back to the Twelfth, singing and chanting. While Arcangelo was walked round a small paddock to cool off, Georgia arrived.
‘Oh I missed it!’ she said, disappointed. ‘How did you get on?’
‘He won,’ said Paolo proudly.
‘It doesn’t mean anything,’ said Cesare modestly. ‘Everyone knows the heats don’t count. It’s only the race itself.’ But he was still grinning from ear to ear.
*
‘It’s a shame that the Duke hasn’t got his mind on the race,’ said Enrico, who had retreated with Riccardo to a tavern.
‘You can’t blame him,’ said Riccardo. ‘He’s flesh and bones like us and they say the boy’s going to die.’