The Undrowned Child

by Michelle Lovric

  Lussa’s laugh tinkled scornfully around the cavern. “Of course, that Pompous Monkey knew Nothing of Us! Given What had happened, We agreed—our only ever Agreement with Him—that it was safer for Teodora to be taken away from Venice, at least for a While. We even approved of his sneaksome Plan to let the Flowering Plants grow over the Graves of Marta & Daniele Gasperin. For That hid from View the Fact that their Daughter had been found and was Alive.”

  Renzo exclaimed triumphantly, “So I was right—the mayor wanted to get rid of Teo, and even the memory of Teo, to avoid bad publicity for his precious tourists!”

  Teo’s voice trembled, “And that’s why I felt strange when I saw the House of the Spirits. I had been here before. But it feels like someone else’s life. I don’t remember the nuns … I don’t remember my parents.”

  “Your Parents adored You, Teodora. Then the Nuns loved You,” recalled Lussa. “You could not have been more loved, or more tenderly taken care of. You were here with the Nuns for some Time, the only Baby who had ever lived in that Great House. I shall not soon forget how They cried when it was Time to send You away. But They understood Why. It was not safe here in Venice.”

  Renzo observed, “And now you’ve saved her life a second time!”

  Lussa replied somberly, “Teodora’s life is still in Danger, and so is Yours, Lorenzo, and so is That of Every Human in Venice as long as the Spirit of Bajamonte Tiepolo is abroad. But Yar, Teodora was saved for a Reason. Because she Herself will be Instrumental in saving Venice, according to the Prophecy.”

  “The poem in the book is a prophecy?” asked Teo.

  Lussa nodded.

  Chissa explained, “You two childer are short-spliced now.” She plaited two tresses of her red hair together to show them what she meant. Renzo scowled.

  “Can … can a ghost save Venice?” asked Teo. She was tired of pretending to herself, and to Renzo.

  “But you are not a Ghost, Teodora. Poor Child, have You been worrying about That? Nay, You are not Dead. You have just gone between-the-Linings for a While.”

  Teo’s knees and arms felt milky with sweet relief.

  Renzo demanded, “What’s that—between-the-Linings? Why didn’t you answer me when I asked about it before? Teo, what are you smiling about? What do you know about this?”

  Lussa explained patiently, “Then was not the Time. Now Lorenzo, You should know that Those who live between-the-Linings are Beings who have stepped out of Time for a Space. They are invisible to Human Adults. Children can see Them. Animals can see Them. They breathe, eat, sleep and have Bodily Functions like Everyone Else. But They cast no Shadows, leave no Fingerprints and Whatever they write is also invisible to Others. To Adult Humanfolk, the Air feels a little colder around Them. ’Tis a State that usually falls upon People in Times of Crisis, to protect Them from their Enemies, Including Enemies who are Ghosts in-the-Meltings.”

  She turned to Teo. “You see, Child, ’Twas once again Necessary to take You away from your Old Life, and from the Supervision of your Adoptive Parents, in order for You to do what is now required of You. So We put You between-the-Linings.”

  “How did you do that?” asked Renzo.

  Lussa explained serenely, “We sing People into that State.”

  Teo remembered the singing she had heard in the hospital, before she fell unconscious and woke up in the graveyard.

  Teo, who had not cried when the sharks closed in, or when she saw her real parents’ grave, now burst into undignified tears. “So I can’t tell my parents, I mean my Naples parents, that I am safe? They think I might be dead. You can’t imagine how they suffer.”

  “I regret not. We must wait till This is over before You can appear to Them again.”

  Renzo looked disgusted. “So you thought you were a ghost, Teo? Is that why you risked my life, jumping into the water like that? Because you had nothing to lose? Because you were already dead?”

  “Hush, Lorenzo!” Lussa’s voice was firm. “There are Many Matters that You do not yet know about Teodora, indeed that Teodora does not know Herself. Remember, this is hard for Her. She has been Most Mournfully Lonely between-the-Linings—and I daresay, even before That. ’Tis a Lamentable Truth that Children who are Marked Out by Destiny are generally sadly Alone.”

  “That is exactly it,” reflected Teo, remembering her solitary walks around Venice. Most Mournfully Lonely.

  “You must stay Secret & between-the-Linings, Teodora,” Lussa repeated. “For your own Safety. It will be harder for Bajamonte Tiepolo to find You there.”

  “But why … why would he be looking for me?” asked Teo, in a shaking voice.

  “You are a Gasperin, Teodora. Bajamonte Tiepolo likes not to leave any Unfinished Business. And of course the Old Prophecy will be in Il Traditore’s Mind. If He knew that the Undrowned Child had come back to Venice, He would be looking for Her,” said Lussa simply. “That is why You must keep Yourself away from his Little Henchwoman Maria, who might lead Him to You.”

  She concluded firmly, “Now That is all You need to know at this Time. We have frightened You enough for Today, I believe.”

  She asked Renzo to take Teo back to her “cabin” at the hotel. Renzo’s anger had evaporated. He looked as frightened as Teo felt. A light aperture in the roof of the cave showed that the moon had gone behind a big black cloud. How could they walk back through the city without light?

  Renzo, with a wary eye on the parrots, explained, “Our lanterns keep dying.”

  Lussa nodded, and clapped her hands. A pair of slightly oily mermaids, whose apron pockets were bulging with tools, now appeared. They held aloft two tattered old kites in the shape of plump red and blue fish made out of lacquered paper.

  “Tested and in full working order, Your Majesty.” The engineer-mermaids bowed to Lussa, and then handed one to each of the children. The fish jerked upwards on their strings. They bobbed in the air, their eyes blank and their mouths open.

  “Kites?” observed Renzo dubiously. “Children’s kites?”

  “Tie Them to your Wrists,” Lussa suggested. “Ask Them nicely.”

  Feeling self-conscious, Teo spoke softly to her fish, “If you please, give us light.”

  Inside the kite a jeweled candle burst into life. Suddenly the eyes of the fish glowed with alert intelligence.

  “Now snap your fingers, Teodora.”

  The flame extinguished immediately. Renzo and Teo climbed up the stairs, wading through the seaweed, out of the chapel and through the garden, where all the ghosts were silent now, watching them pass with a sort of respect that suddenly made the children more nervous than before. After hauling themselves over the wall and the row of boats, they found someone waiting for them on the path at the water’s edge.

  For some reason her lamp hadn’t gone out but shone a bright dirty yellow.

  Maria whistled when she saw Teo. “Ain’t you in trouble! Wait’ll I tell your parents! I shouldn’t like to be in your shoes when they hear about this.”

  the first glimmerings of dawn, June 8, 1899

  Renzo and Teo regarded her in stupefied silence while Maria chattered like a budgerigar.

  “Te-Odore, where did you get those stupid old kites? Very dainty you look, I must say. What happened to your skirt? It’s all torn! Have you been swimmin’? Ugh, you stink like a canal! And have you been eating curry? Ugh! But who’s your friend?” Maria simpered. “Where did you find him? And by the way, Dora, I’ve seen you two together these last few days, lookin’ in that crazy old book.… I should think your parents are going to kill you,” she added happily. “Their Little Miss Perfect has really gone off! Upsettin’ them like that!”

  All the while Maria twisted the emerald earring in her ear, which had visibly swelled and was now discolored with a black and yellow bruise.

  Renzo looked at Maria with fascination, as if she was a particularly repulsive spider. And indeed, while Teo watched Renzo watching Maria, a large brown insect crawled out of Maria’s pocket, unseen by h
er, and scuttled off.

  With relief, Teo realized that Maria herself was not really interested in The Key to the Secret City, or what they’d been doing. The thing was that Renzo was a boy. For the first time Teo noticed that Renzo, even wet, injured and in a state of shock, was probably what most girls would describe as handsome.

  Teo thought, “Well, at least Maria isn’t in love with Bajamonte Tiepolo, if she’s trying her so-called feminine wiles on someone else. That’s one good thing.”

  Maria’s face was plastered with rouge and she was wearing high-heeled boots that made her lurch from side to side like a baby giraffe. She obviously believed she looked like a fashion-plate. But her skin was a strange greenish color under the rouge, and there was something wrong with her shoulders. It couldn’t just be the ruffles of her bodice. Maria was also wearing more crests than ever, and they were all the same—red, yellow and blue.

  Renzo continued to stare at Maria, who was making great big eyes at him. Renzo bowed like a courtier and formally requested permission to see “you delightful young ladies” back to the hotel. All the way, Teo endured Maria’s squeals and giggles, wondering how Renzo could be so blind as to respond so gallantly to them. Maria was a Napoletana—not a Venetian. Why was Renzo treating her like a princess? Maria’s inane flirting rattled Teo’s nerves. At the door to the hotel, Maria announced that she was going inside for her “beauty sleep.”

  “Not needed at all!” purred Renzo with an approving smile.

  Maria gave Teo a half-lidded triumphant glance that announced I got him.

  Renzo bowed. “It has been the greatest of pleasures to meet you, Signorina Maria. Naturally I trust we can count on your discretion. Given the delicacy of the situation, it would be advisable not to mention to anyone that you have, as it were, encountered young Teodora. I’m confident you comprehend perfectly.…”

  “What?”

  Teo practically snarled, “Sorry, Maria, Renzo doesn’t speak baby-talk. Let me translate. You’re not to tell anyone you’ve seen me. Did that sink in?”

  Renzo looked daggers at Teo and beamed at Maria. “If you would be so kind, dear girl.”

  “Who? Dora? I’ve forgotten her already! That’s not hard!”

  Maria gave Renzo a coquettish wink and flounced indoors.

  As soon as Maria was gone, Teo—although she’d sworn that she would deal with this in a cool, collected manner—simply could not stop herself.

  “How could you?” she hissed. “Carrying on so disgracefully with Maria! She’s not a great lady, and you’re certainly not a courtier. Not only is she mixed up with Bajamonte Tiepolo but she’s nothing more than a stupid flirt. With the inner life of a hairbrush, or maybe a comb …”

  Teo did not stop for breath. There was so much to spill, so many incidents, so many slights in those eleven long years of being forced into Maria’s company because of the friendship of their parents. At the end of her recital, Teo felt empty but also somehow dirty and ashamed, even though it had been Maria whose character and intellect she had just torn to pieces.

  Renzo met her outburst with silence.

  “Well?” she challenged, leaning back against a lamppost with her arms folded. “Do you disagree with me?”

  Renzo looked astonished. “Oh, Teo, I’m no more captivated by Maria than you are.”

  Teo’s face blazed like a sunset. She was grateful for the cover of darkness.

  “Though clearly she’s not such a consuming subject for me, ahem! Don’t you see? We have to keep Maria ‘sweet.’ We don’t want her running to Bajamonte Tiepolo, to tell him about her two friends wandering the town at night, do we? Given the prophecy, I’d say her friend Il Traditore might be quite interested to hear of a pair of children, an orphan girl and a rather clever, that is to say, studious boy.…

  “And before I, er, worked on her, she was also threatening to tell your parents that she’d seen you,” Renzo continued in his lecturing voice. “Your parents would be devastated. They would think you’d been playing some kind of cruel game of hide-and-seek. By being polite to Maria, I’ve persuaded her to promise not to tell them either. Now, isn’t that better than the alternative?”

  Teo was forced to admit that Renzo had been clever. But a sliver of leftover resentment made her say, “Still, aren’t Maria’s clothes unbearably ridiculous?”

  Renzo surprised her. “At least she makes an effort with her appearance. It may be misguided, but an effort is always appreciated here.”

  Teo looked down on her damp dress, crumpled pinafore and scuffed shoes. Remnants of seaweed bandage trailed from her bloodstained leg. Her hair was surely standing on end: her curls always frizzed up when she swam. For the second time she noticed that Renzo, even a little chewed up by sharks, wet and exhausted, still had a kind of elegance in his appearance.

  Renzo said benevolently, “Well, if you’re to be a proper Veneziana now, there are some things you must learn, Teo. We Venetians hate the way tourists wear seaside-holiday clothes in our churches and museums. Men walking around with their cravats untied, as if they were at a bar in a seedy port.”

  Teo protested, “But some people cannot afford nice clothes. You can’t be such a snob. Just because someone doesn’t dress well doesn’t mean that they’re Venice’s enemy.”

  “It’s a question of respect! Look at how Venice dresses for us! So beautiful, every day, every hour. We Venetians try to keep up appearances. There’s so few of us now that it is even more important. We’ve lost half our citizens in the last fifty years.”

  “If they love it so much, then why are so many Venetians leaving?”

  “Love her so much. Venice is always referred to in the feminine, Teo. You must learn that now.” Renzo sighed. Educating Teo to be a proper Venetian clearly seemed an enormous job of work to him.

  Teo persisted, “So why are the people abandoning her?”

  “It breaks their hearts. But now the salt is eating the ground floors of the buildings, so you just can’t live in the cheaper housing. It’s too bad. The damp gave my father bronchitis.… The steam ferries drench the gondoliers ten times a day.”

  As if to reinforce his point, at that moment a gondola passed by on the other side of the canal, and the gondolier gave a hacking cough into a white handkerchief.

  Renzo flinched but continued, “Even young people get rheumatic illnesses. Listen.…” He stretched out his arms and turned them around. His shoulder joints clicked loudly.

  “Oh! Does that hurt?”

  “Not yet. But so many of the real Venetians, who stay on, grow ill. It’s like a tax on their health. And diseases spread like wildfire here, because we live so close together. The bubonic plague killed a third of the population. But no one wanted to leave.”

  Renzo wrinkled his nose. A whiff of something rotten had floated in off the canal. Teo decided it was safer not to remark upon it. Renzo might take it as an insult to Venice. Instead, she exclaimed, “So if you are loyal to Venice, you’ll suffer for her? Even the bubonic plague?”

  Renzo said warmly, “Teo, you are …” Then he shoved his hands in his pockets. He pulled out his hand with a wry expression; it was still full of gravel from their fall in the garden of the House of the Spirits. He tossed the stones in the canal.

  So deep were they in conversation that neither Renzo nor Teo noticed that, just where the pebbles had fallen, the water was starting to stir in circular motions. Behind Renzo’s back one of the striped poles began to quiver. Then it flexed upwards and slowly spiraled down into the water. The foul stench immediately disappeared.

  Teo offered shyly, “I would suffer for Venice, if I had to. If I could help her.”

  A splashing noise drew Teo’s eyes to a sudden blur of movement behind him.

  “Renzo!” she screamed. But it was too late. The tentacle that had pretended to be a palina surged out of the water and wrapped itself around Renzo’s left leg. A second, more slender feeler slid forth to take his neck. Renzo toppled over, screamed and pulled at h
is throat, around which the living noose was tightening. The two tentacles started to drag him towards the water.

  Renzo could not utter a word, but his agonized eyes implored Teo for help. She threw herself on the ground and wedged her own ankles around the lamppost, at the same time grabbing Renzo’s right leg and clinging with all her might.

  “Take my arm!” she cried. His trembling hand reached and gripped her elbow.

  The larger tentacle was thicker than Teo’s waist, and powerfully muscled. But it was not expecting resistance. Or attack.

  With her free hand, Teo pulled The Key to the Secret City out of her pinafore and struck out again and again with the book’s sharp corners. The small tentacle recoiled and slid back into the water. The larger one released its grip for a moment, and then grabbed the fabric of Renzo’s trousers at the ankle. This was its mistake. With a retching noise, the flannel came away to the knee, and Renzo kicked himself free and rolled over on his back.

  Teo dealt one final blow to the striped tentacle. This time the corner of the book pierced the slimy skin, and a reeking ooze of yellow and black slime exploded over Renzo’s shin, bare from where the fabric had torn away. Renzo screamed as his skin fizzed and smoked, as if acid had been thrown on his leg.

  But the tattered tentacle at last withdrew back into the water.

  Renzo, barely conscious, lay on the paving, gasping shallow breaths. Teo dragged him back to the lamppost and propped him up against it. She ran into the hotel and snatched a jug of water from the deserted kitchen. Back by the canal she rinsed the slime off Renzo’s leg, revealing three angry raised blisters, each the size of a small egg. Her own lip burned; a drop of the stinking viscera had splashed onto her mouth. She could taste its rottenness. She upended the jug over her face, so the dregs of the water washed away every trace of it. Then she spat repeatedly into the canal.

  Renzo spluttered back to life and into tears of unashamed pain and relief. Teo quietly wiped his eyes with the corner of her pinafore, and held his hand until his sobs subsided.