City of Ships

by Mary Hoffman

  ‘I do,’ she admitted.

  ‘Then who are they?’ asked Vicky. ‘Are they even . . . human?’

  ‘Very human,’ said Nick wryly. ‘But they live in another world.’

  ‘That’s what you said about Lucien when you first came here and saw his photo,’ said Vicky. ‘And that man at his funeral said the same.’

  ‘That was Rodolfo,’ said Nick. ‘He looks out for Luciano, I mean, Lucien, in this other world.’

  ‘He’s a wonderful person, with great powers,’ said Georgia, ‘only a bit scary till you get to know him. And even then he’s scary if you do something he doesn’t approve of.’

  ‘Like a strict parent?’ asked Vicky.

  ‘More like a teacher,’ said Georgia. ‘But Lucien does have foster-parents.’

  ‘Are they Nick’s original parents? Can it really be that neat?’ said Vicky.

  ‘No, nothing like that,’ said Nick. ‘My first mother died years ago and my father . . . my father died in a duel nearly a year ago.’

  ‘Lucien’s foster-parents are much older than you and David,’ said Georgia hurriedly, feeling they were in dangerous waters. ‘They’re called . . . William and Eleanor,’ she said, rapidly translating in her head the names of Guglielmo and Leonora Crinamorte. ‘They’re really nice.’

  ‘And where exactly is this?’ asked Vicky at last. The 64,000-dollar question.

  ‘It’s a parallel world,’ said Nick matter-of-factly. ‘In a country called Talia, which is like your Italy.’

  ‘You might as well ask when it is,’ said Georgia, who had noticed that ‘your’.

  ‘When?’ asked Vicky.

  ‘Over four hundred years ago,’ said Nick.

  ‘So that’s why he wears those clothes,’ said Vicky, almost to herself. ‘So he’s not really dead?’

  ‘I’m afraid he is,’ said Georgia. ‘In this world anyway. It’s just that he has this other life in Talia. It’s really difficult to explain.’

  ‘Try,’ said Vicky. ‘Tell me everything.’

  Georgia swallowed. ‘You need to know about Arianna,’ she said.

  When Isabel next stravagated, Flavia took her straight to the Ducal Palace. To her alarm, Arianna and Luciano were playing with a huge cat, maybe a cheetah. But he turned out to be very gentle.

  ‘This is Vitale,’ said the young Duchessa. ‘I have his parents and three other kittens, but I brought this one for the Duke.’

  ‘Kitten?’ said Isabel. ‘But he’s enormous.’

  ‘He’ll be bigger,’ said Luciano, ‘and his brother already is. That’s the one we’re keeping.’

  ‘I’m glad you came today,’ said Arianna. ‘I am going back to Bellezza soon.’

  ‘And I must leave today,’ said Luciano. ‘I’m going to be in so much trouble for cutting classes at the University.’

  ‘Does this mean there’s no more danger?’ asked Isabel.

  Arianna laughed. ‘I don’t think that will ever be true in my lifetime. But I’m used to it. No, it’s just that the Duke has agreed to join fleets with us. I must go back and commission more ships to be built before the spring really starts.’

  ‘We are safe for a couple of months,’ said Rodolfo, entering the room. Isabel saw that he bent to greet Vitale as if they were old friends.

  ‘The Gate people won’t attack in this weather,’ he said. ‘And if I have your permission to take up your son’s offer to bring us information, Flavia, we will have the edge on them. We will at least know whether their attack will come here or in Bellezza first and then the other city’s fleet can take to the sea straight away.’

  ‘Of course,’ said Flavia. ‘It is a strange thing to say about someone with my son’s reputation – and goodness knows we have had our quarrels in the past – but you can trust him. Once he has made his mind up about which side he is on, he will not turn traitor.’

  Isabel wondered again how the respectable merchant could have a son who was so outside the law.

  ‘We will grant him safe conduct and immunity from prosecution in Bellezza, since he will help us against the Gate people,’ said Arianna, glancing at her father. Rodolfo nodded.

  ‘I will get a message to him to find you in Bellezza,’ said Flavia. ‘Thank you, Isabella – you have already helped with the invasion and the threat to Talia. And maybe done something to bring my son back to me.’

  *

  Beatrice knew what it meant when Fabrizio called her to his private office in the Palazzo Ducale. She realised as soon as the servant came what the summons signified; if it had been anything about household matters, her brother would have come to see her in her own little room in the Palazzo Nucci.

  She walked slowly through the corridor across the river, the liveried servant following behind, putting off the moment that was to come. But when she entered the room overlooking the River Argento, which had once been her own parlour, she was relieved to see that Fabrizio was alone. The servant was soon dismissed and the Grand Duke himself settled her into a visitor’s chair.

  ‘You are well, Bice?’ he began, although they had breakfasted together not more than two hours earlier.

  ‘Very well, brother,’ she said.

  ‘Good, good,’ said Fabrizio. He seemed nervous, as if he were about to propose himself.

  Which in a sense he was.

  ‘Our cousin Filippo has asked me to speak to you on his behalf,’ he said. ‘I’m sure you will guess why.’

  Beatrice did not trust herself to speak. She inclined her head slightly, which encouraged her brother to go on.

  ‘He has quite rightly come to me first with his proposal, since I am not only your older brother but head of our family.’

  The princess wondered when Fabrizio had become so pompous. And she would have smiled at the notion that Filippo had put the request for her hand to her brother, rather than the other way round, if her situation hadn’t been so serious.

  ‘It is a good match and I was happy to tell him that it would have my blessing,’ said Fabrizio quickly, noting that the princess had still not said anything. ‘You do like him, don’t you, Bice?’

  There was a pleading tone in his voice. And Beatrice really wanted to please her brother. It would make her life so easy to marry Filippo, to remain a di Chimici princess and live in Bellona, the City of Dreams. But it was not her dream. Still, her brother did have authority as head of the family and it was unbearably hard to stand up to him.

  ‘I do like him,’ she said softly. ‘He is my cousin and I have known him all my life. Of course I like him but, as a husband . . . ?’

  ‘I understand,’ said Fabrizio eagerly. ‘It is a big step. But look how well it has worked for me and Caterina, and for Francesca and Gaetano. And remember Alfonso is happy with Bianca too. It is best for us to marry within the family. No one outside can possibly understand what it means to be a di Chimici in Talia. And you would continue to be loved and cherished in the kind of style you are used to.’

  ‘But you and Caterina love each other,’ said Beatrice. ‘As do the others. I do not love Filippo and I don’t think I ever will.’

  ‘But love will come,’ said her brother, getting up and taking both her hands in his. ‘I promise it will. Once you have his children you will feel differently.’

  He dropped her hands and looked serious. ‘And there is more to be considered here than girlish fancy. Filippo will be Prince of Bellona and need heirs to that title. Who better to give them to him than a di Chimici princess? The di Chimici princess, I may say, since you are the only daughter of the family’s leading branch. He is very well aware of the honour you would do him by accepting.’

  Beatrice had gone to this meeting braced to refuse the offer and secure in the knowledge that Gaetano and Francesca would give her a home if Fabrizio cast her out. But she felt her resolve was like a castle under siege and that her brother was bombarding her with engines she could not resist for ever. Its walls were weakening and beginning to crumble.

  ‘We must ha
ve more di Chimici children,’ said Fabrizio. ‘It’s what Father wanted when he arranged last year’s marriages. It was the only thing that would console him for Falco’s death. And then we lost Father too – and Carlo. Our family was shrinking. But now we have Bino, and I’m sure Gaetano and Francesca will have their own children soon. You could join us in filling Talia with babies that will carry the di Chimici name and the di Chimici blood.’

  He had tears in his eyes and Beatrice was not unmoved. An appeal to the names of both her adored younger brother and little nephew in the same speech was having a powerful effect. It was as if the siege-engines had been removed and an ambassador in silks and satins had been sent through the breach in the wall with a basket of delicacies to negotiate terms for surrender.

  ‘Promise me you will marry Filippo,’ said Fabrizio, putting all the emotion he felt into one last plea.

  Beatrice closed her eyes. ‘I will marry Filippo,’ she said. ‘Or I will marry no one.’

  The next day Isabel got a text from Nick saying ‘Vicky on way. Knows everything.’ But before she’d had time to work out what that could possibly mean there was a ring at the doorbell and her puzzled brother let Vicky Mulholland in. He’d assumed she was here to see their mother, who was out at the supermarket. But she’d asked for Isabel, and Charlie couldn’t understand why.

  He knew who she was; lots of students in the school orchestra had been taught by her. But Bel had never shown the slightest interest in the violin. Then he heard Vicky say something about Nick and it all clicked. She was the fencing guy’s mother. Or adoptive mother or something. She must have come round with a message from Nick. Though as Charlie went back to his room and left them to it, he puzzled over why Nick hadn’t just rung.

  Isabel had never been alone with Vicky before and couldn’t imagine what the woman wanted. She looked dreadful – tired and drawn.

  ‘I’ve been talking to Nick and Georgia,’ she said. ‘They’ve told me about Talia.’

  Light began to dawn.

  ‘You go there, don’t you?’ said Vicky. ‘They told me you are the current – what was it? – Stravagante. Do you see Lucien when you go there?’

  ‘I have met him,’ said Isabel. ‘But I didn’t know him before, you know . . .’

  ‘Before he died? No, I didn’t think so. But you’ve seen him in this other world. How is he?’

  ‘He . . . He seemed fine,’ said Isabel, realising how inadequate that sounded. ‘He’s at university in Pad— . . . somewhere.’

  ‘Padavia,’ said Vicky. ‘It’s like our Padua. I’ve looked it up.’

  Another person doing homework, thought Isabel.

  ‘That’s right. Only I saw him in Classe – that’s like Ravenna.’ Isabel thought she had better not tell Vicky that Luciano had been skiving off his studies: she was a parent, after all.

  ‘And did you see this Arianna person?’ asked Vicky. ‘Georgia told me he was engaged to her.’

  ‘She’s really lovely,’ said Isabel. ‘Really good-looking but warm and friendly too. Only, she’s this sort of duchess.’

  ‘I heard that,’ said Vicky. ‘And if my son marries her, he will be a duke.’

  She ran her hands through her thick curly black hair, which was now streaked with silver.

  ‘Lucien a duke?’ she said. ‘I can hardly believe I’m saying it. And to be married? He’s only nineteen – I mean, eighteen. He told me there’d been a time-shift of a year here, so to him it feels a year less that he’s been away.’

  She made it sound as if she still thought he might come back.

  ‘I think things are a bit different in Talia,’ said Isabel cautiously. She didn’t want to get into the whole shorter life-expectancy thing the others had told her about. ‘They seem to get married much younger. Arianna’s the same age.’

  ‘But what would a duchess see in my son?’ said Vicky.

  ‘They’re definitely in love,’ said Isabel. ‘I’ve seen them together.’

  ‘Will you do me a favour?’ asked Vicky. ‘Will you take him a message from me?’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Mulholland,’ said Isabel, ‘I would but I’m afraid he’s left Classe and gone back to Padavia.’

  *

  After Vicky left, Isabel went to the café, where she was pretty sure she would find at least Nick and Georgia.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nick straight away. ‘I tried to stop her and then I tried to warn you.’

  ‘It’s OK,’ said Isabel. ‘I got your text. But you can buy me a coffee. It was quite hard core.’

  She was telling them about it when a distraught-looking Sky joined them.

  ‘What’s up?’ asked Georgia. ‘You look awful.’

  ‘It’s Alice,’ said Sky. ‘She’s dumped me.’

  Isabel’s heart leapt and then she felt ashamed; Sky seemed really upset.

  ‘No! She didn’t say anything to me,’ said Georgia. ‘But I know she was a bit fed up with all the time you’ve been spending with us.’ Her eyes swivelled to Isabel, who was concentrating on not blushing by stirring her cappuccino vigorously.

  ‘Yeah, that’s what she said,’ said Sky. ‘It was a sort of me or them ultimatum.’ He sank despondently into a chair. Alice had been his first girlfriend.

  ‘And you chose us?’ asked Nick quietly.

  ‘Looks like it,’ said Sky. He tried to smile. ‘Better get me a double-strength latte.’

  Nick went back to the counter; he seemed to be buying for everyone today. So he got a plate of blueberry muffins too.

  ‘Here,’ he said. ‘We all need sugar. Bel’s had a shock too.’

  He told Sky about Vicky.

  ‘That’s a complication,’ said Sky, frowning. ‘Is she going to be on our backs all the time?’

  ‘She’s not like that,’ said Nick defensively. ‘But you can’t blame her for wanting to know about her son.’

  ‘She wanted me to take him a message,’ said Isabel. ‘She was really upset when I told her he’d gone back to Padavia. She didn’t really understand why I couldn’t just go there from Classe.’

  ‘But doesn’t it make her the only person in our world who knows about Talia without being a Stravagante?’ asked Sky. ‘Is that safe?’

  ‘Well, Ayesha knows,’ said Isabel, ‘and she’s never been there. And didn’t you say Alice had only gone once? That hardly makes her a Stravagante.’

  ‘David knows too, don’t forget,’ said Nick. ‘And I’m sure Vicky will tell him everything she’s found out from us.’

  ‘Alice is the one I’m worried about,’ said Sky, moodily tearing up his muffin. ‘She’s so negative about the whole business. Supposing she tells Ros?’

  ‘Who’s Ros?’ asked Isabel.

  ‘My mum,’ said Sky gloomily. ‘She’s in a relationship with Alice’s dad.’

  Isabel thought this sounded extremely weird but didn’t say anything.

  ‘She wouldn’t believe her,’ said Nick. ‘Vicky and David only believe it because they’ve seen Lucien since he died – and Rodolfo.’

  ‘And Ayesha saw Filippo, though only for a moment,’ said Georgia.

  ‘Ros met Sulien and Giuditta,’ said Sky.

  ‘Yes, but she doesn’t remember it, does she?’ said Georgia. ‘Sulien did something to her mind. It was like what Rodolfo did to Niccolò when Falco died.’

  There was an awkward silence while everyone looked at Nick and Georgia put her hand over her mouth.

  ‘Shall I get some more coffees?’ said Isabel.

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Sky, jumping up quickly so that they could leave the other two together.

  ‘It must be really awkward having a boyfriend who’s sort of dead,’ whispered Isabel while they waited at the counter.

  ‘I wonder if Arianna thinks so,’ said Sky.

  Grand Duke Fabrizio was pleased with his morning’s work. He hummed as he walked back through the corridor to his home. He had spent a profitable hour with the Ambassador from the Gate people, signed off some further details
on the anti-magic laws and had a very satisfactory meeting with his younger sister. It would soon be spring and then the fleet from the east would attack one or both of the independent coastal cities; everything was going his way.

  He arrived to find the palace in confusion, with servants hurrying back and forth and his wife in tears.

  ‘Whatever has happened, my love?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s Bice,’ sobbed Caterina.

  ‘What about her? I saw her only this morning in my office and she seemed perfectly all right.’

  ‘Oh, what did you say to her, Rizio?’ wailed Caterina. ‘She’s gone.’

  ‘Gone where?’ said Fabrizio stupidly.

  ‘Away,’ said Caterina. ‘No one knows where. She has taken her things and disappeared!’

  Chapter 9

  Runaway

  Filippo Nucci was designing a mosaic – his first. It was supposed to be a portrait of the goddess, the ancient deity worshipped throughout the Middle Sea centuries earlier. She was still actively prayed to by many people in Eastern Talia, particularly in the Bellezzan lagoon, and was the deity of the nomadic people known as the Manoush.

  He was trying to depict her as the moon, but the face was turning out to have a strong resemblance to Princess Beatrice di Chimici. And work as he might, the mouth had a sad expression. Filippo sighed.

  ‘What is it, Lippo?’ asked his mother.

  He was drawing in the salon of their palazzo, where the light was good in the mornings.

  ‘I am having difficulty with my design,’ he said. ‘And until I get it right on paper, Fausto says I can’t move on to placing the tesserae in a frame.’

  Graziella came to look. And looked closer. She gave a sniff. ‘It’s the di Chimici girl, isn’t it?’

  ‘It is the goddess of the lagoon, Mother,’ said Filippo. ‘But yes, it does look a bit like Princess Beatrice.’ And he sighed again.

  ‘Why do you think of her?’ said Graziella. ‘Her family are our worst enemies.’

  ‘I know that,’ said Filippo, fingering his scar. ‘None better. But not Beatrice. She saved my life.’

  ‘Well, it was probably that monk who did that,’ said Graziella. ‘But I agree she’s different from the rest of them.’