by Webb, Holly
A lady in a pretty feathered mask, who had been gently pointing out the names of the different islands they could see in the lagoon, smiled at her and murmured, ‘That is His Grace’s brother, Signor Girolamo. A very great man.’
Rose nodded, still trying to shake off the feeling of fear that Girolamo had left behind. Why did the duke’s brother seem so much more alive than the ruler of the whole city?
‘Did it go well, sir?’ Freddie asked, as they were ushered out of the audience chamber, but Mr Fountain glared at him, and waited until they were being let out of the door of the palace, and Lord Lynton had gone off to meet another English acquaintance, before replying.
‘Really, Freddie, you are the most idiotic boy. We were surrounded by servants and courtiers – did you really think I would discuss it with you there?’
Freddie looked crestfallen. ‘I should think if the duke wanted to hear us here, sir, he easily could. There was so much magic in that palace, probably lots of it leaks out. There might be listening spells all over the city.’
‘I wouldn’t be at all surprised.’ Mr Fountain sighed. ‘Do you know what that building is? There, look, joined onto the palace with the strange covered bridge?’
Freddie looked over at the bridge, and the others turned to stare too. It was a delicate structure, ornamented with fanciful curls and pierced screens, and it led from the swooping arches of the palace to a squatter, hulking, grey-stained building across the narrow canal.
Freddie frowned. ‘Another part of the palace? The servants’ quarters? It doesn’t look as grand as the other side.’
‘It’s dirty,’ Rose agreed.
‘It’s a prison.’
‘Next to the palace?’ Rose asked doubtfully.
‘For easy access.’ Mr Fountain shrugged ruefully. ‘What have you heard about Venice so far?’
‘Just that it’s full of magic. And devils, according to Lynton, but he’s just soft in the head, isn’t he?’ Freddie sniffed scornfully.
‘And it’s rich,’ Bella put in.
‘Somehow they’ve managed to keep themselves out of the hands of the Talish,’ Rose added. ‘So it’s clever magic.’
‘Clever. Deceitful. Money-grubbing. Suspicious. Vengeful. You could call it all of those. But the prison is next to the palace for when the duke takes a sudden dislike to one of his courtiers and decides to have him thrown in chains. Look. See that lion, carved into the wall of the palace? Lord Lynton was telling me about those last night. They’re all over the city.’ He stroked the comical little carving – the lion was cheerful-looking with a wild mane and smirking jaws. ‘They connect up to the palace, all of them, with a series oftubes, and they lead to an office in the cellars, the office of the denouncements. They’re for people to post accusations into, if they think their next-door neighbour is plotting against the duke. Or maybe if they themselves are, and they want to throw off suspicion.’ He looked around, and waved a handdelicately in a strange pattern, making the air suddenly shift and shimmer all around them.
‘What was that?’ Rose reached out to see if she could touch it, and found that her fingers changed colour as she slid them through the invisible barrier. Inside, everything was a faint, bleached silver.
‘A hiding spell. I need to teach it to all of you. I’m sure Freddie is right, that the whole place is carpeted in magical spies. And we mustn’t use this for too long; I can’t think of any surer way to attract attention. But it may be useful.’
‘So, no one can see us?’ Bella asked thoughtfully. She turned to look at a grand Venetian lady passing by,accompanied by a tiny shivering greyhound, who seemed to dislike the spell intensely, and stared at it with a sharp little bark. The lady sailed past, her elaborate silken gown trailing the paving stones, and seemed not to notice them at all, merely tugging her little dog away, even when Bella stuck out her tongue.
‘Miss Bella!’ Rose snapped, as she was sure Miss Bridges would expect her to, but actually she thought it was rather funny.
‘Quite,’ Bella’s father murmured. ‘We will learn it tonight. We must not forget lessons, after all. Frederick, do not make that face. Yes, you see, I knew you would. Strive not to be predictable, dear boy.’ Mr Fountain stroked the inside of his protective spell, gently. ‘I cannot guarantee our safety here. The duke was charming, but he denied all knowledge ofGossamer and Venn.’ He sighed. ‘Something isn’t quite right. It seemed as though he hardly heard me, some of the time.’
‘Did you ask him about the mask?’ Freddie whispered, looking over his shoulder at the brilliant bubble of the spell.
Mr Fountain frowned. ‘No. No, I had meant to, of course, but somehow, it didn’t seem the right time…’ He shook his head, as though shaking off a dream.
‘Sir, the duke’s brother…’ Rose paused, unsure what to say. I didn’t like him seemed too silly.
Mr Fountain gave her a sharp look. ‘You saw it too? I had wondered if it was only the effect of that foul mask.’
‘It felt almost as if he was stronger than the duke,’ Rose suggested hesitantly.
The master nodded, his eyes half-closed. ‘I shall have to go back, see if I can untangle it a little more. This place is like a spider’s web, and if we tug on the wrong strand of silver silk, the fanged creature will be coming to kill us.’ He looked round at their horrified faces, and smiled, rather hollowly. ‘I don’t mean to frighten you. But you have to understand. This place makes me feel like a young student again – a wonderful feeling, but terrifying, too. The stones are steeped in power, and I wouldn’t be surprised if the water’s contaminated. Such a strange, alien magic. It’s all tied up with the duke, and his ancestors. As though his family were made out of the dust of the city, and the waters run in their blood. I don’t understand it.’ He rested one hand against the palace wall. ‘And it feels as if the buildings are alive,’ he whispered.
Rose looked around at the shining stone of the palace, and the glimmers of red brick and marble reflected in the deep and swirling waters further down the canal. She was sure he was right. The city reminded her of her first days in the Fountain house, when she had felt the walls seething and bulging with magic, and the stairs had swooped and twisted under her.
Mr Fountain smiled, and snatched at the air with his hand to break up the spell. ‘But one very good thing came of my little chat – it was Gus’s doing, I think – the duke took a particular fancy to him. I have been officially invited to Sunday’s masquerade, and the duke suggested that I should bring the charming children as well, by which I assume he meant all of you.’ Mr Fountain raised his eyebrows at them.
‘The masquerade? You mean, the ritual?’ Rose whispered. ‘We’re going to it?’
Mr Fountain nodded. ‘Gossamer will have to show himself then, if he wants the ritual to help him control the mask. Please God, we will have found him before Sunday, but if not, the masquerade will be our final chance.’ He shook himself, and added, as though he were promising a great treat, ‘I have been told we must all have costumes, and most especially masks.’
Rose shuddered. ‘Must we?’
Mr Fountain stared down at her in surprise. ‘I would have thought a new dress would be a good thing?’
Rose looked around, to see if anyone was listening – she couldn’t help it, even though it was probably useless. ‘It isn’t the dress. I don’t like those masks. There were so many people in the palace wearing them, and they make my skin crawl, sir. They must be wood, or, I don’t know, paper perhaps, but they moved! I’m sure they did. The duke’s brother, Girolamo, I saw his mask frown. I don’t want to think about what he looked like underneath,’ she added in a whisper. She remembered Fiori’s book, and his strange, nightmarish ideas about the magic-laden masks.
Gus rubbed himself around her legs. ‘I didn’t like him either. Slippery, slimy sort of fellow. Not so devoted to his dear brother, either, I’d be ready to swear.’
Rose crouched down to stroke him gratefully. She had hoped she wasn’t being feeble.
Mr Fountain was frowning. ‘Still, I’m afraid we must. Obviously we must be there. If we can’t find Gossamer before then, it’s the one place we’re sure he’ll be. I shall be most interested to see the ritual, anyway, and the custom is to wear masks. Lord Lynton has told me of a little shop – we are to go back to Francesco and ask him to take us to the Alley of the Bleeding Windows.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, that is what he said –surely it must have some strange explanation…’
*
The mask-maker was sitting at a long table, surrounded by pots of paint, brushes, and piles of glaring white masks, in hundreds of shapes. Finished masks hung from the walls in shining rows, gleaming with varnish, and twitching strangely in the water-light.
‘Oh, look! A little mouse!’ Bella pointed delightedly, but the mask-maker sprang up and snatched it from her reaching fingers, pouring out mouthfuls of tangled Venetian, and patting her cheek affectionately. Bella turned in confusion to Francesco who spoke a little English.
‘He says no, little miss is not a mouse.’ Francesco smirked. Even after a day, Bella’s character was well known in the embassy.
The mask-maker seized Bella’s hand, and walked with her around the walls, humming to himself and clicking his tongue. ‘Ah-hah!’ He lifted a mask down from the wall, and held it out to her, smiling and nodding to show she must try it on. It was a double mask, the sun on one side of the face, and the moon on the other, both exquisitely painted and smiling.
‘The light and the dark.’ Gus stared fixedly at themask-maker. ‘He is clever, this one.’
Luckily Bella admired the gold and silver paint, and was flattered by the pretty pink cheeks and rosy mouth of the sun side, and readily agreed for it to be hers, once it had been restrung to fit her. With similar speed, the mask-maker chose a widely-smiling mask for Mr Fountain, a bear’s face for Bill, and for Freddie a face that frowned over a hooked nose like Mr Punch.
Rose had been hanging back, almost pressing herself into a display of cloaks, until the mask-maker beckoned her forward. His hands on her face were warm, and though there was a low hum of magic in his fingers, it did not feel dangerous, merely questing.
At last, though, he shook his head, and waved towards his table, holding up two fingers.
‘He says he doesn’t have the right one. He will have to make it special for you,’ Francesco explained. ‘He says come back in two days.’
Rose nodded reluctantly. However pretty the masks were, they still made her shiver.
Worn out by learning the hiding spell, and feeling strangely transparent, as if she hadn’t brought all of herself back, Rose took the amazing luxury of a sleep after their lunch. They had been served the most English boiled mutton she had ever tasted, though accompanied with Venetian side dishes, such as artichokes and more strange fishy things.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to actually go to bed, but had instead curled up in her clothes on the horse-hair stuffed sofa in her room. She woke to find Bella sitting next to her, shaking her shoulder.
‘Oh, do wake up! Rose! What is the point of staying penned inside this gloomy house. I want to go and explore!’
Rose sat up, stupid with sleep, and swallowing massive yawns. ‘Where is everyone else?’
‘All sleeping too. It’s such a waste. Please come with me, I don’t want to go far, just for a little walk along the quayside, to see everything. Francesco said it’s carnival time, this week before the masquerade. There might be all sorts of pretty things to see. Please?’
It was the addition of please that made Rose shake off the last remnants of sleep, and fetch her best cloak. Bella wasn’t given to asking nicely, and Rose had some strange instinct that she ought to be rewarded for it.
The whole house seemed to be sleeping, and indeed, as they let themselves out of the front door, the whole city seemed quiet, with only a few gondolas poling slowly past, their men leaning lazily on the oars.
‘Does everybody nap here?’ Bella asked disgustedly.
‘Perhaps it’s the magic,’ Rose suggested, staring round at the light mists floating across the water. It was already growing grey, the January afternoon drawing in. ‘Maybe they’re too worn out not to.’
Bella sniffed, but as they paced down the quayside she turned to look down one of the many little alleyways, and squealed with delight. ‘Oh, look! Do let’s go and see!’
Floating in a stately manner along the canal at the end of the alleyway was a richly decorated barge, half-covered in flowers, and with masked girls sitting all over it, chatting and laughing to each other, and eating little cakes.
Bella pelted off down the alley, and Rose dashed after her. But by the time they reached the little stone ledge at the other end, and Rose had seized Bella, who was leaning perilously out over the water, the barge had disappeared round a bend. It left only a smell of rose petals, and a lingering dance tune from the band sitting on top of the flowers.
They wandered sadly back to their quayside, admiring the odd little shrines dotting the sides of the houses, and were within sight of the Grand Canal, when there was a strange sort of scuffling behind. They turned to see a gang of boys – quite small boys – creeping along at their heels. It would have been funny more than frightening, except that they were all masked.
‘Run!’ Rose seized Bella’s arm and dragged her along, and Bella ran gasping, but her little heeled boots weren’t made for chases, not over rutted cobbles, and she kept slipping. At last Rose pulled her close and turned round, glaring at the boys, who had several times come close enough to grab at her cloak. She hugged Bella tightly to her side, and pushed her other hand into the little hanging pocket where she kept the doll version of herself. Holding the china Rose made her feel braver. She stared at their dark eyes, glinting through the slits in their masks. They were all animals, she realised, a sick, sour taste rising in her mouth. Ugly, brownish creatures – rats, and a fox, and a cat who wasnothing like her darling Gus.
The thought of Gus brought her voice back.
‘What? What do you want? We haven’t any money. Leave us alone!’ She knew they couldn’t understand her, but it felt better than being silent.
The boys crept closer, their masks eerie, all the more so for being battered and dirty instead of gorgeously painted. It looked like they lived in them. People who never take them off, Rose thought, her heart beating in sickening thuds. What do they look like underneath? Horrible images of blackened, rotted flesh crept unbidden into her mind.
‘Oh, Rose, Rose, they’ve got knives and I’m too frightened to scream!’ Bella whispered, clutching Rose’s cloak around her too.
The knives were held in front now, shining and vicious, and Rose closed her eyes for a second in fierceconcentration, summoning her picture magic.
The blades were at once covered in shimmering visions, and Rose shuddered, seeing what she had created. She hadn’t meant them to drip with blood, but perhaps that was what the metal remembered. She hoped it was only from hunting rats, and nothing larger.
Two of the boys screamed, and flung their knives down, haring off back down the alley, but there were still three left, and one of them, the ringleader, only smiled at his bleeding blade – indeed he looked as if he rather liked it. He stepped even closer, waving the blade like a weaving snake’s head in front of Rose and Bella, and laughing, the noise so much worse coming from under his pointed fox mask.
Rose thought frantically through the spells she had learned so quickly at the king’s palace, when she was being trained as the princess’s bodyguard. But she had no firelight to fling at them, and the crumbling grey stones were so much more theirs than hers that she couldn’t think how to use them. At last she seized on the mist insinuating itself in wisps along the darkening alley, and cast it as ghost streamers swooping around the boys’ faces. Then she ran again, hauling Bella with her.
They were almost at the mouth of the alley when Rose felt one of them grab at her cloak again, and this time she simply turned and hit
out at him angrily, seizing the side of his ugly mask and pulling.
‘I shall report you to the British Ambassador!’ shescreamed. ‘And the duke. You shan’t hide behind that horrible mask!’ And she tried to tear it off, wrenching at it with her nails under the side. But the boy howled in agony, dropping his knife and raising his hands to scrabble her away, and then dropped back, still crying.
Rose fell back against the wall, shuddering in disgust, and Bella leaned over her anxiously. ‘Rose, what is it? They’ve gone, you sent him running.’
‘It wasn’t a mask,’ was all Rose could whisper. ‘It was fixed. It was grown on, Bella. I was trying to tear away his face.’
‘Girls!’ It was an English voice, and Rose lifted her head. ‘Are you all right? Did those young ruffians hurt you? Is she fainting?’ she added to Bella.
‘No, no, I’m not.’ Rose levered herself away from the wall, her limbs shaking, and looked over to the mouth of the alleyway, where an elderly lady was signalling them from her gondola. She began to climb out, carefully leaning on her umbrella, and hurried towards them, trailing long black silk skirts. She was dressed in a rather outdated fashion, with a lace fichu and mittens, and a little cap under her bonnet. But there was something about her that made Bella curtsey very promptly, and even Rose managed to bob her shaky knees.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you, ma’am, we’re quite all right,’ she stammered.
‘You most certainly are not,’ the old lady stated. ‘Come and sit down in my gondola, it’s quite comfortable, and I have some butterscotch. Clearly you need something.’ She leaned down to peer short-sightedly at something on the ground. ‘Did you drop that paper, dears? Is it something important?’