City of Ships

by Mary Hoffman

  ‘From what I can tell, it usually seems to be about saving this Luciano,’ said Isabel. ‘But I really don’t know what I can do that a whole bunch of Stravaganti there can’t. And why would he be involved in a naval invasion?’

  ‘I think,’ said Matt, ‘that we should sort of pool resources.’

  ‘You mean come to Talia and help me?’ said Isabel hopefully.

  ‘No, our talismans wouldn’t get us to Classe,’ said Georgia. ‘But I think Nick’s right. We could make a sort of – I don’t know – dossier or something, and put in it every single thing we can remember about Talia.’

  ‘You can’t take anything from here to there,’ said Sky, ‘but you could study it here and it might help.’

  They were excited about this idea and would have started there and then if they’d had any paper. As it was, they divided up tasks – Nick was to make a di Chimici family tree, Matt a list of Stravaganti in both worlds with all the facts he could think of about them, and Sky would draw a map of Talia and all the cities they had visited.

  Isabel agreed to review her research notes on Ravenna and try to map it on to the Classe she had seen so far.

  ‘What will you do, Georgia?’ asked Sky.

  ‘I think I’ll work on stravagation itself and the talismans,’ said Georgia. ‘And I can draw up a list of questions for Bel to ask Luciano and Rodolfo and Flavia and any other Stravagante she comes across.’

  ‘You’ll have to memorise them,’ said Sky. ‘And the answers.’

  Isabel realised that her new adventure had just turned into a huge subject, involving coursework, homework and four very demanding teachers. She hoped it would prove worth it.

  In a tavern in the harbour at Classe sat a man being inconspicuous. This was difficult because he was a very striking figure. He was about thirty years old and only average height, but he had jet black hair to his waist and two silver teeth where his upper canines should have been. Now he had tied his hair back and was keeping his mouth closed as much as possible.

  This was also difficult because normally he loved to talk. But today he was looking and listening. A hat pulled low over his brows and a dull red cloak over his black clothes completed his disguise. From the tavern window he had a good view of the entire harbour, which was organised like a smaller city in itself.

  The war fleet was kept anchored in a special dock of its own at the end of the northern curve of the bay. The merchantmen lay at anchor in deep water, with smaller boats plying back and forth between them and the quays, carrying portions of cargo for delivery or sale on the spot. Then, bobbing closer to land, were all the smaller craft, the fishing boats, the pleasure ships owned by the gentry and the caravels of opportunistic sailors who would take passengers up and down the coast as far as Bellezza to the north and right down to the big island in the south – for the right fee.

  Life on the quay itself was as busy and varied as life on the water. Fishermen took turns mending nets and selling their silvery cargo, bedevilled by the ever-present screaming gulls, merchants inspected goods and loaded up wagons, sightseers ambled inconveniently among them, tripping over coils of rope, and sellers of food and drink called out their wares to anyone who would buy them.

  The inconspicuous man was watching a middle-aged woman in a russet dress and a young girl in a green one. This was the second time he had seen them together and what he wanted was to get the girl on her own and find out who she was; he knew the woman perfectly well.

  He couldn’t believe his luck when a messenger came picking his way through the detritus on the quay and engaged the older woman in earnest conversation. He had sent the messenger himself but didn’t know that he would find Flavia at this moment and with her unknown new friend.

  Swiftly, he left the tavern, skulking round the harbour till he was within feet of the girl, who had obligingly moved away to look at one of the caravels. It was a beauty of a ship and, as luck would have it, it belonged to the inconspicuous man. It took only seconds for him to whistle to the mariner on duty and remove his red cloak and throw it over the head of the unsuspecting girl.

  She was slightly built but fought like a wildcat, clawing and kicking. But her screams were muffled by the cloth and the man had her in the ship’s cabin before anyone on the quay noticed. He threw the bolts on the door and took a small dagger from his waist while the furious girl disentangled herself from the cloak. By the time she was free, he was leaning against the door flashing his silver smile at her while the ship got slowly under way.

  ‘Scream all you like,’ he said politely. ‘No one will hear you above the gulls. But wouldn’t it be much nicer if you sat down and had a glass of wine with me? I mean you no harm.’

  *

  Luciano rode into Classe with the light heart of a careless truant. He had escaped from a particularly uninspiring series of lectures on grammar and he was on his way to see the love of his life. He couldn’t wait till the remaining months in Padavia were over and he could return to Bellezza and take up the life that was to be his future.

  He had never been to Classe before and was charmed to find that it was like Bellezza in miniature – a much smaller city but also built on land that had once been swamp and was now threaded with canals. Unlike in the City of Masks, horses were allowed in Classe and, after stopping for directions, Luciano soon found himself in the Piazza del Foro, which seemed to be the heart of the city.

  The oblong piazza was surrounded by handsome buildings of different periods, some colonnaded, some with triangular pediments, some more like the palazzos of Giglia. In the south of the square were two tall columns with decorated bases and between them and all around the piazza were stalls selling goods and traders calling their wares.

  It was clearly a prosperous and well-organised city. On the far side of the square a flag bearing the image of a sailing ship told Luciano that he had found the Ducal Palace. He was able to ride right up to it and a servant took his horse while another announced ‘The Cavaliere Crinamorte of Bellezza!’ through the corridors of the palazzo.

  He found Duke Germano in his salon and it was agonising to go through all the necessary courtesies before he was shown into a smaller room to wait for Arianna. But after an age, a flurry of skirts burst into the room, the servants were dismissed and they were together at last.

  It was a long time before they could disentangle themselves and think of anyone else and by then Arianna’s mask was off and her hair tumbled down round her shoulders.

  ‘So where is this new girl from my old world?’ asked Luciano at last. ‘I haven’t seen a twenty-first-century girl for ages.’ But he was smiling.

  ‘You’re not going to make me jealous again,’ said Arianna. ‘I know you like sixteenth-century ones better.’

  ‘Only one,’ said Luciano, kissing her again.

  There was a knock at the door. Arianna hastily tied her mask back on and did some ineffectual hair-tidying. But it was Rodolfo, who was almost as pleased to see Luciano as she had been. He clasped his old apprentice in a warm embrace.

  ‘Well met,’ he said. ‘But in an ill hour, I fear.’

  ‘I heard there was trouble brewing,’ said Luciano. ‘That’s why I came.’

  ‘And more than from the sea,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Flavia is here with bad news. The new Stravagante is already missing.’

  *

  ‘What is your name?’ asked the man, who was no longer trying to be inconspicuous.

  ‘Isabel,’ said his captive. She saw no point in withholding the information. Though it should have been terrifying to be grabbed and bundled on to a ship and kidnapped, she was astonished to find that she was not scared; she was spittingly angry.

  ‘Isabella,’ said the man, savouring the four syllables. ‘Bella, bella, Isabella. That is a Talian song, you know. Well, of course you do. That is if you are Talian, beautiful Isabella.’

  He was looking pointedly at the cabin floor, where Isabel was clearly not casting any shadow.

  She stayed quie
t. No one had ever called her beautiful before but she couldn’t trust this man, who had behaved so badly to her. Still, she filed it in her mind for future reference. ‘Bella Isabella’ did have a nice ring to it.

  ‘Let me introduce myself,’ said the man, pouring two goblets of red wine and smiling. Isabel saw to her alarm that he had two silver teeth. He looked like a pirate. ‘I am Andrea.’

  He said it with the stress on the ‘e’ so that it didn’t sound like a girl’s name. And he flashed his silver teeth at Isabel.

  I can’t stand men who think they are God’s gift to women, thought Isabel. Perhaps that’s why I like Sky. He’s so gorgeous but he doesn’t seem to know it.

  Andrea looked a bit disappointed by her obvious immunity to his charms. Women were usually a bit more impressed by him. He gave her a goblet of wine and Isabel drank. It was rich and warming and gave her even more confidence.

  ‘Why have you kidnapped me?’ she asked. ‘I demand you let me go immediately.’

  Andrea shrugged. ‘We are in deep water already but only a few hundred yards from the coast. There is nothing to stop you swimming back if you wish.’

  Something in her expression showed him the truth.

  ‘Unless of course you can’t swim?’

  ‘Why should I swim?’ said Isabel bravely. ‘You have no right to take me away from land on this boat, which I expect you have stolen.’

  Andrea looked injured. ‘This is my own ship. I just wanted to talk to you. I’ll take you back to the harbour very soon.’

  ‘You wanted to talk to me?’ said Isabel. ‘What’s wrong with “Hello, can I have a word?” I’d like to know?’

  ‘You certainly have a lot of spirit,’ said Andrea. ‘All right, I apologise for my unorthodox methods but I know no better. I’m a pirate.’

  Did he really just say that? thought Isabel.

  ‘Why don’t you tell me who you are and what you are doing here in Classe with Flavia?’ said Andrea. ‘And then I’ll take you safely back to land.’

  ‘You know Flavia?’ asked Isabel.

  ‘I should think so,’ said the pirate. ‘She is my mother.’

  *

  ‘One minute we were walking on the quayside,’ said Flavia, ‘and then she was gone.’

  ‘But who would have taken her?’ asked Luciano. ‘Stravaganti from my world have been captured before – including me – but it’s usually the di Chimici. How could they know about Isabel already? There aren’t any in the city, are there?’

  ‘I don’t think it’s the di Chimici this time,’ said Rodolfo. ‘Does Isabella know about stravagating home before dark?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Flavia. ‘I did at least teach her that on her first visit.’

  ‘What happened just before she disappeared?’ asked Rodolfo.

  ‘A messenger came to tell me I could buy back my stolen silks for a small sum,’ said Flavia.

  ‘Your silks?’ asked Arianna.

  ‘I lost some of my most recent cargo to pirates,’ said Flavia.

  ‘There is something you are not telling us,’ said Rodolfo, looking at her intently.

  Flavia sighed. ‘I should have known I could not keep anything from a fellow Stravagante,’ she said, ‘but it was never relevant before. I don’t know if it is now.’

  Duke Germano passed her a glass of wine and she took a sip.

  ‘My son, Andrea, is a pirate,’ she said, ‘to my shame. I think it was his ship that boarded the Silver Lady and took my silks. My own son stole my goods and will now sell them back to me at a bargain price. I am supposed to be grateful he didn’t take the whole cargo,’ she said bitterly.

  ‘You are estranged from him?’ asked the Duke sympathetically.

  ‘How can I not be?’ asked Flavia. ‘I am a respectable trader and he is outside the law. If he doesn’t steal from me, he is stealing from someone like me. That’s his trade, if you can call it that.’ She looked serious and sad, as if she was not telling them the whole story.

  ‘I am very sorry for you,’ said Rodolfo. ‘But you are right – it doesn’t seem to help us with what has happened to Isabella.’

  ‘Could she just have got lost?’ asked Arianna. ‘I mean, she hasn’t had time to get to know the city very well. Maybe she just missed you in the crowds down at the docks and then went to find you?’

  ‘She knows the route between the harbour and my house,’ said Flavia quietly. ‘And I have had people searching the streets and buildings of Classe for hours. No, I am sure she has been abducted. I just hope that whoever has taken her has not robbed her of her talisman. I could not forgive myself if she failed to return home.’

  Arianna flashed an anxious glance at Luciano, but his face was impassive.

  ‘Rodolfo,’ he said, ‘she is a Stravagante and we have three more here including ourselves. Can’t we combine our powers to locate her? I haven’t met her but I saw her through your glass. Perhaps if we all linked minds and concentrated on her image, we could at least see where she is.’

  Rodolfo, Flavia and Luciano moved close to one another, but before it could be discovered whether Luciano’s plan would work, a servant entered and announced that ‘Signorina Isabella’ was outside and wished to be admitted.

  So the first sight of the new Stravagante that Luciano had was of an excited and dishevelled girl rushing into the room and coming to a halt when she saw him.

  Chapter 7

  Matchmaking

  ‘Isabella!’ exclaimed Flavia. ‘Where have you been? We’ve been so worried.’

  Isabel noted that Talian adults were exactly like their other-world counterparts in one respect: when they were relieved, they sounded cross.

  ‘I was kidnapped,’ she said, relishing the drama. ‘But it was OK. It was your son who did it.’

  Luciano stopped Flavia’s protests by coming forward to introduce himself.

  ‘Isabella,’ he said, ‘I’m Luciano who used to be Lucien. I suppose it’s Isabel really?’

  ‘Yes, Isabel Evans,’ she said. ‘But everyone here has decided I’m Isabella.’

  ‘Something similar happened to me,’ said Luciano. ‘I’m sorry but I don’t remember you from school.’

  ‘No one ever does,’ said Isabel. ‘But you probably know my brother, Charlie.’

  ‘Charlie Evans?’ said Luciano. ‘Wasn’t he on the swimming team?’

  ‘Excuse me, Cavaliere,’ said Flavia, ‘I need to know what my son has done to Isabella and why.’

  ‘Do they all know about Andrea?’ asked Isabel slowly, looking round at the company.

  Flavia bowed her head. ‘They do now,’ she said. ‘You can say what happened.’

  ‘Well, he captured me and took me out to sea on his boat,’ said Isabel. ‘But he wasn’t unkind. He . . . he said he was a pirate.’

  Rodolfo stepped forward and held up one hand. ‘This is obviously a personal matter. Let us leave it for private discussion. What matters is what happened to Isabella and what relevance it has to her mission as a Stravagante.’

  ‘But that’s just it,’ said Isabel. ‘Andrea knows something that might be useful to us. He knows about the Gate fleet.’

  *

  Filippo of Bellona would have been annoyed to receive another summons from the Grand Duke so soon after getting back from Remora, but in fact he had nothing better to do and he was anxious to keep on good terms with his illustrious cousin. So he ordered up the royal carriage again and headed for his sister’s palazzo in Giglia.

  Francesca di Chimici had been married to her cousin Gaetano for less than a year but she already thought of Giglia as home. The palazzo in the Via Larga was where Gaetano had grown up with his sister and brothers and he still talked fondly of those days. His parents and two brothers were now buried in the family chapel but both Francesca and Gaetano knew that one of them was alive in another world.

  Filippo was Francesca’s only brother and he was causing her some worry. He had turned up last October and just as suddenly disappeared. Now there w
as a message to say that he was visiting them again. And she knew that he had been involved in a murderous plot in Padavia.

  ‘What do you suppose it is this time?’ asked Gaetano.

  ‘He says that Fabrizio wants to see him,’ said Francesca. ‘That’s what he said last time and we know what that led to. Your brother wanted mine to kill Luciano.’

  ‘Fabrizio’s like a dog with a bone,’ said Gaetano. ‘I don’t think he will ever get over his hatred for Luciano.’

  ‘He seems to have inherited it from your father,’ said Francesca. ‘But it isn’t reasonable to pursue this vendetta after death in a duel, particularly when your father had tried to rig the outcome.’

  ‘I know, my love, but Fabrizio is obsessed.’

  ‘I thought he had been less vengeful since Bino was born,’ said Francesca. ‘Thinking more of the future and less of the past. I know that’s what Caterina wants.’

  ‘The trouble is,’ said Gaetano, ‘the future and the past are all bound up for him. He feels he has to take on Father’s plans for the family and bring other cities in Talia under our family’s rule.’

  ‘But why do you suppose he wants Filippo to help him?’ asked Francesca.

  ‘That I don’t know, but perhaps he will stay longer this time and we can find out.’

  They didn’t have long to wait. Filippo’s carriage arrived soon afterwards and a liveried servant from the Grand Duke invited them all to dinner at the great residence south of the river that was still known as the Nucci palace. Matteo Nucci and his family had never lived in it and it had been confiscated when he was sent into exile, but the design and conception was his and Gaetano always thought it ill-omened. It was where he and Fabrizio had recovered from their wounds after the massacre and their father had died on the terrace outside, choking on his own poison.

  But Fabrizio and Caterina seemed happy enough there, thought Gaetano. He wasn’t so sure about Beatrice though. She seemed very quiet that evening.

  ‘You are all very welcome at my table,’ said Fabrizio, raising his glass in a toast, ‘and especially Cousin Filippo. We don’t see you in Giglia often enough.’