“Oh, no, have I upset you?” Angus puffed. “Again?”
“You’re supposed to be rescuing us!” Dean exploded.
“What a shame that Marin hasn’t finished your portrait and I still have to listen to you!” He nodded a greeting at the seething apprentice.
“He’s not going to finish it!” shouted Dean.
“Congratulations.”
“Bellini.” Marin’s face was a rigid mask of anger. “The boy Blaise has done nothing wrong. Release him immediately.”
“I disagree,” said Angus. “He’s got stolen property in this bag.”
Blaise choked out, “Wha —?”
“The map, mon ami, the map.”
“It’s not stolen. I found it!” Blaise shouted.
“It belongs to Lady Ishbel,” said Angus.
“Where is she, then? Did you dump her overboard?”
“She’s around. Somewhere.”
Marin took one half step forward. “It is my map. It was meant for me. But you may have it in exchange for the boy.”
He moved quickly toward Blaise and retrieved the map from the messenger bag. Angus snatched it and crushed it into his trouser pocket.
“Well, there goes your bargaining chip. I look forward to seeing what’s so special about this map.” The painter peered over his shoulder at the mural. “Now, let’s take a closer look at this drawing.”
Never taking his eyes off Angus, the apprentice said nothing.
Angus dragged Blaise toward the mural. “If I’m not mistaken, this is il Corvo’s workshop in Venice. And the two boys are very busy. What’s the younger one doing? Ah, of course, boiling linseed oil to mix with the pigments and thicken them to perfection.”
Marin glanced at Sunni and Dean, dabbing one finger to his temple.
“He’s mental all right,” agreed Dean in a whisper.
“Pay attention! You’ll learn more here than in all the lessons my cousin Lorimer could ever give you,” Angus said. “Look, the other boy is grinding nuggets into powder to make paints. Lapis lazuli, verdigris, malachite, umber, ivory . . .”
As Angus peered at the boy with the pestle and mortar, a man with a short dark beard and hooked nose appeared in the mural, taking his place in front of a huge easel. He contemplated a picture of a ship being attacked by a giant whale.
Marin gasped.
“The Raven himself,” whispered Angus. “The master who can turn paintings into miracles.”
As if on cue, Corvo briefly looked in their direction, but by the way he looked through them, it seemed he could not see them.
“I regret that the Raven is oblivious to us. Is there no way to communicate with him?”
“No,” Marin said. “He is beyond us while in the mural.”
Angus’s smile twitched. “That’s a terrible shame. Is this mural your doing? Did you put Corvo and the others into it? I imagine your drawing style is much like the Raven’s, since you learned from him.”
Marin said icily, “This is not my work. It is the work of my master himself.”
“And what’s this I see?” said Angus, squinting at the mural. “So many paintings in the workshop. So many new masterpieces.”
He walked slowly along the wall, dragging Blaise with him, his eyes trained on the mural. Then suddenly, he stopped. A grin spread over his face. “That painting there, hanging behind Corvo’s easel, the one with the dead stag at the bottom of the cliff and the men on horseback. What’s that painting called?”
“I do not know,” said Marin.
“Really?” Angus raised an eyebrow. “It matches the description of a lost painting I read about called The Chalice Seekers. See? It even has the chalice floating in the sky.” Sunni sucked in her breath. The magical paintings Hugo talked about.
“I’ll wager that the two paintings next to it are The City of the Sun and The Jewel of Adocentyn,” said Angus, breathless. “The three missing canvases, found at last! It’s the perfect hiding place — paintings within paintings within paintings. Genius. Now all we need to do is get them out of there so I can see them.”
Marin folded his arms over his chest.
“You seem to be a clever lad, Marin. You know how to trap people in your drawings. It stands to reason that you can remove them, too. Objects should be even easier to transport in and out,” said Angus. “So, there’s a good chap. Bring those three paintings out of the mural.”
Marin did not move.
“I’m not asking you. I’m telling you.” Angus smiled but his eyes were steely. “And if you do not do as I say, what happens next will be your fault.” The knife glinted in his hand as he pushed it against Blaise’s throat.
“I cannot remove what my master has drawn there. It is impossible.”
Angus considered this. “But you could transport a person into this mural. Yes?”
The apprentice’s face fell for a split second, and Angus pounced.
“Aha, it can be done. A simple proposal, then. I want you to draw me in.”
“It is too dangerous. I do not know how you would ever get out again.”
Angus hesitated. “All right. Send the girl in. Let’s find out how dangerous it really is.” He leered at Sunni. “You can fetch them for me, can’t you, Sunshine? You’re a strong lass — I reckon you can carry all three in one go.”
“No, I c-cannot be responsible . . .” stammered Marin. “What if something were to happen to her?”
“Matey, you’ll be responsible for what’s going to happen to him in a minute.” Angus tightened his grip on Blaise. “And don’t tell me you’ve suddenly developed a conscience after trapping people in your little sketches. Now, get on with it.”
Blaise struggled as he tried to wrench himself from Angus’s grasp, but the dagger nicked his skin and a scarlet pearl of blood appeared on his neck.
Sunni screamed and took a step toward him. Marin put a hand on her arm.
“What guarantee do we have that you will hand back the boy once you have the paintings?” he asked Angus through gritted teeth.
“None!” Sunni said. “His guarantee isn’t worth anything!”
“Well,” said Angus, “if you feel that way, we can’t do business.” He grunted into Blaise’s ear, “Your fair damsel won’t help you. I’m afraid it’s all over, my friend.”
Blaise spat out a defiant, “Good!” but his eyes were terrified. Angus traced the dagger across Blaise’s throat, lightly, his eyes fixed on Sunni.
Sunni’s heart beat so hard it ached. “Draw me! Marin, just draw me!” she cried. “I’ll do it!”
Angus relaxed his grip slightly and smiled. “Ah, she’s all heart, that girl. It would bring a tear to a glass eye.”
Marin brought his face close to Sunni’s ear. “Are you certain? You are willing to risk this?” He squeezed her shoulder and said in a low whisper, “Do you trust me?”
Trembling, she breathed out, “Yes.”
With an almost imperceptible nod of his head, Marin let her go.
“I will draw the girl there.” The apprentice pointed at a blank area of the wall, away from the Raven and the other apprentices. He opened his satchel and rummaged about for a stick of charcoal.
“Very good,” purred Angus.
Marin stood Sunni in the position he wanted. Dean scampered close to them and said, “I’m right here, Sun.”
Angus heaved Blaise nearer so they could watch Marin draw. “We’re about to watch a miracle happen.”
Sunni saw the fear in her friend’s eyes once more and said, “It’s all right, Blaise.”
Marin stared at her, his charcoal stick poised to begin. He was studying every detail, from the width of her nose to the length of her foot, and it made her shake.
His hand began flying across the wall, furiously sketching and rubbing out, cursing in Italian. From the corners of her eyes, Sunni watched herself take shape, scarcely breathing.
When the drawing was finished, Marin began murmuring something in a monotone voice. He drew str
ange swirly symbols above Sunni’s head, then dropped his hand to his side.
Sunni’s fingertips dissolved first and then her hands. It was as if she were being dunked into a vat of invisible ink.
Angus exploded with gleeful laughter.
The sound was odd, muffled, as if she were under the sea. She tried to scream, but nothing came out.
Her feet prickled with pins and needles. The burning spread up her legs, and she could not move. When her eyes finally focused, Sunni was in a strange room, warm with golden light and reeking of pungent oils. Corvo and the two boys were hastening toward her, their startled faces full of suspicion, their hands reaching out to seize her.
She opened her mouth and wailed, “Help us!”
Suddenly all Sunni could see was streaks of color and light as the room dissolved again before her eyes. The three figures faded, and everything went gray.
Sunni was only in the mural for a matter of seconds. Her feet reappeared on the floor of the round room, quickly followed by the rest of her body. Complete once again, she staggered back against the mural.
“It didn’t work!” Angus shoved Blaise aside and lunged at Marin. “You filthy —”
The apprentice kicked out and sneered, “Bellini, you and all your ancestors are dogs!”
“My ancestors? What are you babbling about? You snide little toe-rag!” bellowed Angus, circling Marin, the dagger brandished before him.
“That devil Maffeo!” Marin roared. “He ruined my life!”
He leaped at Angus, fists flying, sending the dagger clattering across the room. The startled painter grappled with Marin, attempting to wrestle him to the floor. “You’re crazy!”
The others hurled themselves at the pair, trying to haul the painter off Marin.
“Villain!” shouted Marin.
All at once, Angus released the apprentice and lunged at Sunni, crooking a thick arm around her neck.
“Stay away!” he cried. “Or Sunshine here gets it.” He backed toward the mural, dragging Sunni with him.
Suddenly, a hand clamped onto Angus’s shoulder. He froze, then turned his head slowly to see who had appeared behind him. It was one of the apprentices from the mural.
“What the —?” gasped Angus as the other apprentice materialized, seizing his other arm. He released his grip on Sunni, then flailed wildly, trying to throw the boys off. Blaise and Dean rushed forward, and together the four of them pinned Angus to the ground in a messy scuffle.
Panting and sore, Sunni looked over toward Marin. His face was white, streaming with tears, and his shoulders trembled. His eyes were fixed on something behind them.
“What is it, Marin?” Sunni panted.
“Signore,” he croaked. Gesticulating wildly, he began chattering in Italian.
A dark figure moved softly across the room and regarded Marin with crow-black eyes.
“We will speak English, Marin,” said Fausto Corvo, gesturing toward the heap of bodies on the floor. “For our guests. Now, what in heaven’s name is happening, my son?”
“Master,” said Marin. “Can this be? I cannot believe I have finally found you. . . .”
“One thing at a time,” replied Corvo. He examined his apprentice’s portrait of Sunni. Then he smudged his forefinger across the symbols above it.
“This is how you attempted to transport the girl, Marin?” He knit his brows together. “Small wonder it did not work in my mural! This is the wrong formula. Like pouring oil into water — they will not mesh.”
“I know, master. But I thought she might appear for long enough to attract your attention.”
“And she did,” said Corvo. “For how long have you been able to transport beings in this way?”
Marin lowered his eyes. “A — a long time. I have been capturing your enemies. They are all here in my satchel. I will show you —”
“Not now.” Corvo rubbed the magical symbols out with the palm of his hand, then turned to the captive on the ground. Angus looked up at him in wonder.
“Maffeo Bellini,” Corvo said with weary distaste. “After so many years.”
“I am Angus Bellini, sir,” the painter said. “It is an honor to meet you. Please — release me, I’ve done nothing wrong.”
“This descendant of Maffeo has hurt and killed in pursuit of your magical paintings,” Marin said with feeling. “I present him for your judgment.” He hung his head. “And myself also.”
“I will hear your story later, Marin,” said Corvo. “And who are these children?”
“Innocents who wandered into Arcadia and are trying to return home to their world. They are Bellini’s victims, too.”
“I don’t have any victims!” Angus protested. “Is it a crime to be interested in your work, Signor Corvo? I only sought the paintings because I wanted to share your genius with the world!”
“Indeed?” asked Corvo. “And why do you think it is that I have given up Venice — my friends, my family, everything I love — and hidden myself away for so many years? The world must not learn the secrets of my work — it has been my greatest challenge to keep them hidden for this long.”
“I beg you. Let me go.”
“There is but one remedy,” said the Raven.
He pulled a piece of parchment from under his short black cloak and cradled it in the crook of one arm. He gave Angus a pitying look and, while muttering something, began scribbling on the parchment with a piece of charcoal.
A flash of realization crossed Angus’s face. “Get off me!” he howled, but the apprentices held him rigid.
Sunni and Dean huddled together nearby. Blaise stood by their side, his mouth slightly ajar as he watched the magician’s hand.
“He — he’s going to trap Angus,” stammered Dean. “That’s just what Marin nearly did to me.”
As he drew, Corvo crooned in a low voice as if he were soothing Angus with a lullaby. He sketched and corrected, hardly taking his eyes from his subject. At last he held the drawing out and turned it to show his three apprentices. “Have I captured Bellini’s likeness?”
Marin, Dolphin, and Zorzi smiled at their master.
Angus panted, “No, no!”
Then Corvo showed the drawing to Sunni, Dean, and Blaise. He had caught Angus’s hard eyes and sneering mouth, the gouges in his cheek and the tangle of his hair.
“That’s amazing, sir,” Blaise managed to whisper.
Sunni gulped. “It is.”
Dean said nothing, daunted by the fierce look in the magician’s eyes.
Corvo nodded and scrawled something across the top of the drawing to finish. “So you want my secrets, Bellini? Impossible!”
He flung the drawing across the room.
Angus started to blur around the edges, his face fading and his body as indistinct as a wisp of fog. Last to vanish were his outraged eyes, as the parchment floated to the ground.
The three apprentices got to their feet and hugged one another.
The Raven retrieved the drawing and held it up for them to see. Angus was squirming and shouting to be released, his stringy hair flying around.
Dean retched, his face drained and damp with sweat.
Sunni’s bottom lip trembled. “Are you going to draw us?”
“No, I am not.” Corvo wondered at these three staring, white-faced children. “But I do not understand. Are you sorry I trapped this man? My apprentice says he is your enemy, yet you are upset at his fate.”
“He was our enemy,” said Blaise quietly. “But I don’t think he deserves a living death inside a drawing.”
“He — he can’t even move in there,” Sunni murmured.
The Raven gestured to Dean. “Do you agree?”
“Yeah.” Dean wiped his face. “That could have been me. I don’t wish it on anybody else.”
Corvo stroked his beard. “Then what would you have me do with Signor Bellini?”
“Put him on a really faraway island,” ventured Dean, “where he can’t do anything bad.”
T
he magician’s eyes lit up. He turned Angus’s drawing over to the blank side, drew an island, and held it up. “A new home for Bellini. What will he do there?”
“Be a farmer,” Dean said.
“Ah!” Corvo chuckled. “Very good. I will give him two pigs and some chickens.” He drew these onto the island.
“Shall I give him a wife?”
“Please don’t,” said Sunni. “I’d feel really sorry for her!”
“Wait until you see the wife I will give him.” The magician’s eyes twinkled. “Then you may feel sorry for him.”
The apprentices burst into laughter, and the children grinned.
“No, you are right. The pigs and chickens are company enough for Bellini at the moment.” Corvo finished the sketch and bowed to the children. “I thank you.”
He whistled a lilting tune, and in a few moments a raven swooped into the room and perched itself on his shoulder. “My friend will take Bellini and his new home far out into the sea, beyond the knowledge of my sailors. There he will be released to make a life on his island.”
“We could take the drawing home with us, sir, and release him in our world,” said Sunni. “Wouldn’t that be better?”
“You do not possess such powers.” Corvo shook his head in a kindly way. “Bellini is a violent thief. It is best for him to stay with us. He will not have a bad life on his island.”
“It won’t exactly be Paris,” Blaise said to Sunni, “but at least Angus will be alive.” He looked hopefully at the magician. “And maybe someday you’ll let him come back to our world.”
Corvo shook his head and patted the raven’s feathers. “I have decided that you must close the labyrinth in Blackhope Tower when you return. It is time to bring peace to Arcadia. Will you do this for me?”
“Yes, sir. But how?” asked Blaise.
“When you leave us, continue along the path. It will take you to the top of the island — finis terrae, the land’s end. Find an amphitheater with a labyrinth within it. This labyrinth will take you back if you say ‘chiaroscuro’ as you walk.” Corvo smiled. “As you entered, so you will leave. And, most important, the last of you to arrive in the Mariner’s Chamber must walk that labyrinth backward from the center, repeating the password. This will close the entrance forever.”
The Blackhope Enigma Page 18