The Shadow Lantern

by Teresa Flavin

  One by one the men around them came to life, resuming conversations in a jumble of languages and drinking from their mugs.

  Corvo’s double continued. “Your Majesty, in a moment you will learn how il Corvo travelled alone from Venice to Prague over many days, hoping to deliver three enchanted paintings to you. Do not be afraid of what you see in this shadowland, Your Majesty. Follow me, then come back to this place and you will return home safely.”

  “Uh, thank you,” Sunni said hastily. “We are not the Emperor but we are friends. We do not want Fausto Corvo’s paintings. We want to help protect them.”

  The double straightened and his eyes flicked back and forth.

  “Come on,” Blaise muttered to Sunni. He pushed his way onto a stool at the table and motioned for her to join him. She plonked herself onto a chair beside him and looked expectantly at the double.

  Before he could speak, a man with skin like wrinkled paper sidled up to the double’s side. In his palm was a tiny bird’s skeleton in a glass bottle. But all Sunni noticed were the man’s hideous fingernails. They were so long they had become monstrous yellow curling claws.

  “You are new here, sir,” the man said to the double. “See my phoenix relic. A gift for you at a special price.”

  Corvo’s double nudged him away and sat down, never taking his perplexed eyes from Sunni and Blaise. “No, I do not want it.”

  Another man pressed forwards and offered him a mummified human ear in a small jewelled case, while a third spread out a cloth and dropped crystals of varying sizes upon it. Sunni was slightly nauseated as they leaned in closer with their fetid breath and crazy eyes.

  “Surely you must desire something, sir,” the first man wheedled.

  A ratlike man fanned out a deck of strange playing cards. Another slid a small sketch onto the table and Blaise peered at it with a look of puzzlement. Two more men came up behind Corvo’s double, sharp and predatory. Soon a dozen men were crowded round the table, thrusting trinkets and amulets at him, and many more stood behind.

  “No, put away your rubbish,” the double said. “I seek information.”

  The men murmured.

  “I wish to deliver something to His Imperial Majesty Rudolf,” he said. “I must speak with him in person.”

  “Oh ho, in person!” someone guffawed. “You will be lucky to get past the palace guards.”

  “That is,” said another, “if they let you cross the Stone Bridge to get to the palace!”

  Corvo’s double said, “When I tell them how important and precious my delivery is, they will give way.”

  A few laughed knowingly.

  “We’ve all thought that before,” said the man with the crystals. “Who sent you?”

  “No one,” said the double. “But Emperor Rudolf is expecting my gift.”

  “So you have papers to prove it,” he replied. “Or a letter to introduce you.”

  “No. I did not expect to be delivering the gift myself.”

  “Good luck then,” the crystal seller smirked, folding up his wares. “You are just another of many men with gifts for the Emperor. Go and join the queue if you don’t mind waiting weeks or even months.”

  One by one the dealers withdrew from the table.

  Blaise whispered to the trader who had put the sketch on the table, “Where did you get this?”

  The man ignored him.

  “Who made it?” Blaise insisted, noticing that Corvo’s double was now watching him closely.

  But the trader swiped the sketch away and vanished into the crowd. Only one hawker remained at the table, close by the double’s side.

  “From a centaur,” the man said, holding up the mummified ear. “It will cure leprosy.”

  “Take it away from me,” the double said, not noticing the hawker’s other hand creeping under his black cloak.

  Sunni jumped up. “Watch out!”

  Corvo’s double caught the man’s wrist and squeezed until he dropped a small brass-coloured disc. Before the double hid it again, Sunni recognised it as the object she had seen glinting in the clone’s hand on the quay. She had no idea what it was, with its letters engraved round the edge and a red stone at its centre.

  “Thief!” Corvo’s double pushed the man away and tugged his long satchel close. As he turned to leave, a man in a tattered velvet hat pressed a scrap of paper into his hand.

  “This will show you the way to the castle, my friend,” he said in a low voice and bustled back into the crowd.

  With a curt nod, the double pushed through the tavern. Sunni and Blaise hurried after him, ducking out through a low door into a cold dusk.

  When the door had banged shut, the double commanded, “Go back inside and leave this shadowland. You are trespassers.”

  “We only want to help protect Corvo’s paintings. We think they are safe,” said Blaise. “We met Fausto Corvo inside The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia and saw the three enchanted paintings there with him.”

  The double’s eyes had a faraway look as they flicked back and forth.

  “You must know the other enchanted painting, The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia,” said Sunni hopefully. “It’s in Blackhope Tower where Sir Innes Blackhope once lived.”

  After a moment he answered, “I do not.”

  She searched his face for a sign that he was lying but it showed no expression.

  “But you do know where Fausto Corvo hid the enchanted paintings?” Blaise asked.

  “Yes,” said the double. “But that is only for the Emperor to know and you are not he.”

  “So you’re saying the paintings aren’t inside The Mariner’s Return.”

  “I say nothing to anyone but His Imperial Majesty.” The black eyes narrowed as he pulled his cloak back to reveal the rapier. “Leave now or you will feel the blade.”

  Blaise swiftly opened the tavern door and pulled Sunni inside. After a few seconds’ wait they dashed outside again. The double was hurrying away along the dim cobbled street, studying the paper scrap and checking people and doorways he passed.

  “Sorry, clone,” said Sunni, breathing out frosty clouds. “I’m not going home yet.”

  “Me neither, but just one thing.” Blaise pointed at the rotting sign that hung over the tavern entrance. The name was in a language she could not make out, but she knew the mythical creature with the cockerel’s head whose long lizard tail wound around the letters.

  “A basilisk,” she said. “We’d better remember that because we’ll need to get back here. Don’t know what that name is though.”

  Blaise stared up at the letters, looking puzzled. “How can that be?” he asked slowly.

  “Come on or we’ll lose the clone.” She rubbed her chilly arms and set off. “We can look at it later.”

  Prague stank even in the cold. Rotting food, animal manure and worse, the smell had not been masked by the shreds of hard frost that lingered at the corners of the ramshackle houses. The sun had gone in, if it had even been out that day, and the crooked lanes were bathed in an icy blue light.

  “The clone knows where the paintings are hidden,” Sunni said, her teeth chattering. “And they’re not in Arcadia.”

  “Or he’s lying.”

  “I just don’t know any more,” she answered.

  Panting and shivering, they chased after the double. They crossed a huge square dominated by two lofty church spires at one end and a tower at the other. The air was suddenly filled with the distant sound of bells tolling five. Two high windows opened in the grey tower and a succession of carved figures moved across them to the peal of a golden bell. Below this odd spectacle was an elaborate clock with a small dial within a large one, decorated with astrological symbols and markings around the edges.

  Corvo’s double veered out of the square and through another tangle of streets until he came to a wide river and a monumental arched bridge with a stone tower at each end. Beyond it was a hill crowned by a huge castle, majestic and icy-looking, its spires sharp in the frigid indig
o sky.

  The double paid a toll collector at the stone tower and darted onto the bridge.

  “Now what?” muttered Blaise. “We don’t have the right money.”

  “Look!” Sunni pointed through the stone tower’s archway, where she could make out the double, half-lit by a nearby torch.

  Corvo’s double was slowly walking backwards, his rapier raised. Two men loomed before him, one in a mask covering the top half of his face.

  “The one in the mask,” said Sunni. “He was in the tavern!”

  “It’s Soranzo’s spies, Zago and Magno.”

  Suddenly Zago pounced and the double knocked him to the ground. Before Magno could put a hand on him, he sheathed his rapier, bolted away to the side of the bridge and climbed onto the stone wall. He pulled the long satchel off his own back and, with a low cry, flung it over the side. Then, to Sunni and Blaise’s horror, Corvo’s double threw himself into the icy river, his cloak flapping at his back like a pair of raven’s wings.

  Chapter 10

  “Let’s get out of here!” Blaise put his arm around Sunni’s chilly shoulders. They briskly walked away from the bridge where Soranzo’s two spies had hung over the wall, shouting and staring into the black water before they ran off into the night.

  “That was horrible,” Sunni murmured as they navigated the alleys and into the huge square they’d passed through before.

  “Yeah,” said Blaise. “Corvo went through a lot to protect those three paintings. Hope it was worth all the trouble.”

  Prague’s church bells tolled seven and again the two dim windows in the strange clock popped open, revealing the carved figures moving across, lit from behind by lanterns.

  “It’s already seven o’clock?” Sunni asked, gawping at it over her shoulder.

  “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  They picked their way down the shadowy lanes until they found the tavern with the basilisk sign. Blaise stared at the lettering once again.

  “Hang on a minute.” He fished his small sketchbook from his pocket and showed her a page inside it. “I thought I’d seen that gobbledygook before. It’s the same as one of the ships in Venice.”

  VYLNLUG LUVUHOM GUULN

  “That’s odd,” said Sunni. “Unless it’s a message. The clone said there were clues for the Emperor in the shadowlands.”

  Blaise put away the sketchbook. “Maybe it’s a code. But we need a way to break it.”

  “And the clone isn’t ever going to tell us,” said Sunni. “because we’re not the Emperor.”

  She pulled the tavern door open. The tavern was teeming and even more rancid-smelling, which may have had something to do with the various exotic animals and birds being carried around by smiling dealers. As he was taller than most, Blaise came face to face with a shivering monkey and a solemn parrot whose cages were being paraded above their owners’ heads.

  Sunni was at his side, then pushing ahead of him. Someone yanked his arm, pointing towards a table covered in animal horns and shouting about unicorns. A hand was feeling around his waist, sliding towards his pockets.

  “Whoa!” He slapped the hand away. “Oh, no, you don’t!”

  “Go on, Blaise!” Sunni was now pulling his elbow and shouting at the people pressing in on them.

  “Out of my way!” With his hands shoved into his pockets to ward off the thieves, Blaise waded through the throng, kicking stools out of the way. He practically hurled himself towards the wall where Sunni and he had first appeared. She was already there, waving her arms to get Munro’s attention back at the Mariner’s Chamber.

  “Munro!” he yelled. “Get us out of here now!”

  “What is going on?” asked Lorimer Bell.

  Blaise was still shaking when, after a sharp knock, their art teacher unlocked the Mariner’s Chamber door with his key and switched the overhead light on.

  Sunni was on the floor too, looking like she’d been dropped there, while a surprised Munro batted away a curl of smoke rising from the Oculus.

  Lorimer shut the chamber door firmly behind him, his eyebrows knitted together. “Blaise! Sunniva.”

  “Mr B.” Blaise couldn’t remember the last time Lorimer had called her Sunniva, and he saw her wince as she got up.

  “Munro?” Lorimer turned to the spirit photographer. “What’s going on here?”

  “They were just doing a bit of an experiment with the projection from this magic lantern,” said Munro. “It’s all absolutely fine, Lorimer.”

  “What, making shadows with their hands or something?” Lorimer asked. “How did they end up on the floor?”

  Blaise rolled over and got to his feet, still slightly unsteady. “We just lost our balance, Mr B.”

  “Lost your balance doing what?” Lorimer looked pointedly at his pupil.

  Blaise brushed some dust off his shirt and jeans and gave Sunni a sidelong glance. “It’s a little complicated.”

  The art teacher looked at his watch. “I’ve got time. Let’s hear it.”

  Blaise shot Sunni a glance and she nodded. There was no way they could keep this from him. “Well, first off, this isn’t Munro’s fault.”

  The spirit photographer gave them a grim smile.

  “We convinced him to let us try it,” said Sunni. “And it worked.”

  “For heaven’s sake,” said Lorimer. “Try what?”

  “Going into the projections,” she said brightly. “We’ve gone into Fausto Corvo’s painted slide projections. Each one is a different world…”

  Lorimer stared at them in disbelief. “You’ve been able to come and go into projections on a wall?”

  They nodded.

  “We found out how to do it by accident. I just stepped into the Oculus’s light,” said Blaise. “It feels funny and it takes a few seconds to feel your normal self afterwards, but it works.”

  “And you stood by and let them do this?” Lorimer turned on Munro, incredulous. “Do you have any idea what these two went through last winter in this very room?”

  “Yes, I know.” Munro’s face fell. “I didn’t think it was a good idea at first but they insisted. And, look, they’re back fit and well!”

  “We’re okay, I swear,” Blaise said. “And it’s not the same as being inside The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia. You can get in and out much more easily.”

  Lorimer crossed his arms over his chest. “I’m not happy about this, Blaise.”

  “But we even had a back-up plan,” he replied. “If we didn’t get back in a certain amount of time, Munro could come after us with help.”

  “Which I didn’t need to do,” said Munro with a slightly injured air. “Because it’s all fine.”

  “Well, Munro,” sniffed Lorimer. “It’s not all fine in the Mysteries and Curiosities marquee. Aurora sent me to find you because people have been asking for you. You really should be down there between your Oculus shows.”

  “Oh right, sorry.” Munro looked at his pocket watch. “Tell Aurora I’ll pop by later.”

  “No.” Lorimer frowned. “You can go and tell her yourself. If you don’t mind.”

  “I need to be here—”

  “You’ve got time before your next show. I’ll lock the door after I’ve had a chat with my pupils,” said the art teacher.

  Munro reluctantly picked up his top hat and patted it onto his head. “Don’t let anyone touch the Oculus,” he warned.

  “I don’t intend to,” said Lorimer. “Goodbye, Munro.”

  The spirit photographer gave Sunni and Blaise a wink as he left with Lexie in his arms.

  “All right,” said Lorimer, sitting in one of the chairs. “Explanation please.”

  Sunni took a breath. “Corvo painted three glass slides for the Oculus,” she said. “They look ordinary if you project them on a wall, but if you go inside them you see the story of where he went after he ran away from Soranzo in 1582.”

  Lorimer’s jaw dropped. “Why would he do that?”

  “To send a message to som
eone important.” Blaise picked up the third slide from the wooden table and handed it to his teacher. “The Oculus and these slides were meant for an emperor called Rudolf in Corvo’s time.”

  “So were his three lost magical paintings. They were going to be gifts,” added Sunni, as Lorimer held the slide up to the overhead light. Blaise noticed she was looking over her shoulder and brushing something away with her fingers.

  “But we don’t think they ever made it to the Emperor.” Blaise took the slide back and laid it carefully next to the Oculus. “They’ve been lost for centuries.”

  “You told me you’d seen them with Corvo when you were in Arcadia last winter,” said Lorimer.

  “We did,” said Blaise. “But now we’re not so sure.”

  Sunni jumped in. “The Emperor was supposed to receive the Oculus and the slides and go inside each projection like we just did. There’s a clone of Corvo in each one, put there to tell the Emperor where the paintings are. And the clone told us the Emperor never showed up. He thinks the paintings are still out there somewhere.”

  “Wait,” said Lorimer, shaking his head. “A clone of Corvo talked to you?”

  “Yes,” she said, twitching her shoulders and frowning. “I know that sounds weird. The projections are like a video diary with the clone acting out Corvo’s story.”

  “This is too much.” Their teacher let out a long breath. “Astonishing.”

  “All the real Corvo wanted to do was protect his three magical paintings,” said Blaise. “And we’ve got to help him do that.”

  “So you want to keep hunting for them?” asked Lorimer.

  “Yes,” said Sunni, still fidgeting. “We hope we’ll find the answer in the last projection.”