Rose 3: Rose and the Magician's Mask

by Webb, Holly

  Gossamer looked up at last, and smiled, a triumphant, knowing smile, and with insulting slowness he waved his companions through a door at the end of the gallery. Girolamo stepped out obediently, like a trained dog. Venn’s chair glided like a gondola after him, smooth on greased wheels. Roseshuddered when Lord Venn’s dreadful rolling eyes caught her own as she raced the last few steps to catch them. He looked desperate.

  And the door swung shut with a satisfied little click.

  ‘What was that thing?’ Freddie asked, as they sat leaning against the door, panting.

  The door had remained obstinately closed, however hard they rattled the handle, and even after Freddie and Bill tried to charge it, and fell over each other.

  ‘It was nasty.’ Bella shook herself. ‘It was part of him – like that boy’s mask, Rose,’ she added – reluctantly, as if she didn’t want to remind her.

  ‘How did it move?’ Rose asked. She was huddled close between Bella and Bill, and Gus was sitting on her lap, leaving hairs on her good cloak, she noted wearily.

  Freddie shrugged. ‘Magic. I don’t know which spell.Something linked to his mind, I suppose. I don’t think he could move for himself.’

  Gus snorted. ‘I’m not sure he had much mind left, either. He was half-dead when you poured your power into him before.’

  ‘Rose did for him good and proper.’ Bill sounded smug, but Rose gave him a horrified look.

  ‘You think I wanted him to be like that?’

  ‘Better like that than running around kidnappingprincesses, I reckon.’ Bill shrugged. ‘Looked to me like that Signor Girolamo is hand-in-glove with Gossamer now.’

  The door opened suddenly, making Bella squeal, and a scandalised lady-in-waiting peered down at them – four children and a cat, sitting on the best oriental carpet.

  They scrambled up, and Freddie tried to explain that they were looking for Signor Girolamo, but she refused to listen. Instead she escorted them back to the room where they’d been left, bristling with disapproval.

  Lord Lynton blinked at them through his eyeglass, asthough he’d almost forgotten they were with him. ‘Oh. Where did you get to? Do come along, the duke has sent the most interesting proposition about the trade treaty, and I must go and draft a dispatch at once.’

  ‘But, what about Papa?’ Bella asked, catching LordLynton’s hand, and staring up at him in confusion. ‘What did the duke say about Papa?’

  ‘Oh, yes.’ Lord Lynton blinked again, and frowned. Then he nodded happily, and a strange slow tone came into his voice. ‘I didn’t see the duke himself, but I spoke to several of the most influential courtiers. Apparently the duke was very surprised to hear that your father had not returned – they met yesterday, and Fountain left the audience room after an hour. Don’t worry, my dear. I’m sure he’s just busy,’ theambassador told her vaguely, tucking her hand in his arm, and walking on like a benevolent grandfather out for an excursion. ‘Signor Girolamo mentioned that they had a most interesting conversation yesterday. He was quite complimentary.’

  Rose’s eyes widened at the mention of the duke’s brother, and Bella was about to argue, when Freddie shook his head. ‘No point. Can’t you tell? He’s been spelled. Made to forget, somehow. He won’t even hear you talking about it.’ He sighed. ‘Look how cheerful he is. It’s not like him at all. It must have been when he was talking to Girolamo.’

  It was true that Lord Lynton had lost his mournful,homesick air. He practically chortled as he sauntered down the palace steps towards the quayside.

  ‘I don’t mind spying around the palace when the other side are going to enchant the British Ambassador,’ Rose muttered. ‘I suppose if Lord Venn can’t even speak, he isn’t a great deal of use as an accomplice. Bill’s right. Gossamer’s using Girolamo instead.’

  Gus picked his way down the steps delicately. ‘I should think Signor Girolamo would do anything for a magician who told him he could take his brother’s place. I shouldn’t think it’s all that exciting to be only the brother of a duke.’

  ‘He’s going to replace the duke with Girolamo?’ Rose nearly fell down the steps.

  ‘I doubt it…’ Gus sniggered, and stared up at her. ‘But he probably told Girolamo he would.’

  ‘We should warn the duke,’ Freddie said anxiously.

  Gus nodded, his eyes wide and shining. ‘Of course! Because it was so easy to get in and talk to him just now. And we can lift the enchantment on him without the slightest difficulty.’ He stared out across the lagoon, his tail twitching with scorn.

  Freddie scowled. ‘Well, what do you think we should do, then?’ he snapped. ‘Come on, Lynton’s calling us.’

  Lord Lynton was beckoning them over to the gondola. ‘Have you picked up your masks for the ball yet?’ he asked hospitably, as they clambered aboard.

  Freddie shook his head. ‘No, sir. He did say today, but with Mr Fountain not here…’

  ‘Oh, stuff!’ Lord Lynton waved this away. ‘You must be ready for tomorrow night, all of you.’

  ‘Surely we can’t go to the ball without Mr Fountain,’ Rose began, but Bill hushed her.

  ‘Now isn’t the time for company manners, Rosie. And them masks might be useful,’ he whispered. ‘Disguise, see.’

  Freddie gnawed his lower lip, and nodded, but Rosecouldn’t bear to think of putting on one of those masks. She wondered how many of the servants and courtiers they’d seen today had been able to take theirs off.

  Was it something special about the boy’s mask? Had the ugly brown fox mask done that to him, or was it something he himself had done? And how many others had done it too? It had to be linked to the ceremony at the heart of the masked ball.

  The mask-maker’s shop looked welcoming, with a light burning through the tiny windows on such a dull day, and glimmering in the water that ran beneath them. Rose still had to force herself to step inside.

  The mask-maker sprang up, clearly delighted to see them, and he handed Bill a large box to carry. Rose made a move to go, but the man swooped round in front of her, and shooed her, chattering the whole time, into sitting in a little black chair in the centre of the shop. Rose looked around twitchily, realising that she had been placed as the star of the show, and the others were gathered as an audience, eagerly – jealously, in Bella’s case – watching.

  With a triumphant twirl, his tattered apron swinging, the mask-maker brought out a delicate little mask. It was a half-mask, painted a soft silver, and edged with glittering gems. At least, they looked like gems. Rose was sure they were only paste, but she didn’t care in the least. She had never seen anything so pretty, much less owned it. She reached out a hand, and stroked one of the jewels with a loving finger. She wanted desperately to put it on, but she couldn’t help remembering the boy in the alleyway, and the courtiers at the palace, whose masks had looked skin-tight and so very comfortable.

  The mask-maker’s voice took on a wheedling tone, and he pressed the mask into Rose’s hands so that he could reach something swathed in a calico bag on the wall. He uncovered it with a flourish, shrugging and gesturing apologetically. It was a dress, made from some sort of rich brocade, woven in shades of violet on a blue background, and covered with a misting overskirt of cobweb silver lace. Rose blinked, dazed with longing, and Lord Lynton gave a disapproving sniff.

  ‘He says that his sister is a dressmaker, and she saw the mask, and happened to have some stuff which would match it, so she has made you this, Miss Isabella having mentioned when you were here before that you were in need of a dress. You are under no obligation to pay the man for it, Miss Rose. He is taking a liberty, and I daresay the dress is an unwanted commission, and they are very glad to be rid of it.’

  Rose hardly heard. In that dress, wearing that exquisite mask, who would ever believe she had so much as seen the inside of an orphanage? She would look like the most petted, adored little miss. She would be a lady. She wanted it.

  She had forgotten her dread of masks. In this one, she was sure, she woul
d be the real Rose.

  ‘Sir, Mr Fountain did leave some gold with you, did he not?’ she whispered. ‘I do not have a dress for the ball, and he wanted me to buy one here. Do you think you could pay the man, if he sent a bill?’

  Lord Lynton shrugged. ‘Oh, very well. It is tolerably pretty, I suppose.’

  The mask-maker bristled at his dismissive tone, even if he didn’t understand the words, but Rose patted his hand, and smiled gratefully at him. Then she picked up the mask, enjoying the rough feel of the gems under her fingers. She could feel them sparkling, and they sent a little thrill of happiness fizzing into her blood.

  It was cleverly made, with a place to put a stick to hold it by, but he had fitted it now with long silver ribbons to tie around her head. Rose closed her eyes as she lifted it in both hands, feeling the soft silken ribbons weave themselves lovingly, perfectly, around her fingers. The mask seemed to jump in her hands, as though it was desperate to be worn, and Rose brought it up to her face with a glad little sigh, settlingit on the bridge of her nose – oh, it fitted so well, like a second skin—

  Then suddenly it was snatched away. Rose screamed, in shock and anger, and gazed up at the mask-maker, her eyes blurred with tears. How could he do this? It was her mask! He had said so. He had made it for her. He couldn’t take it away!

  But he was shaking it at her, his black eyes snapping, and a stream of furious Venetian pouring from his mouth.

  ‘What is it? What is he saying?’ she demanded of Lord Lynton, half-sobbing. Bella had flung her arms around her, and Bill was hovering by her chair, fists clenched.

  The ambassador shook his head in disgust. ‘These fellows are all full of superstitious nonsense. He says, would you believe, that he will not sell you the mask, if you are so eager to put it on. He says that if you wear it with your heart open, as it was’ – here Lord Lynton rolled his eyes – ‘then the mask will grow into your heart, and one day you will no longer be able to take it off.’

  ‘But you must go, my dears.’

  Miss Fell was sitting bolt upright on Lord Lynton’s striped silk sofa, eyeing Rose, Bella and Freddie with surprised disapproval. She had arrived that morning to find Lord Lynton still unusually cheerful, and Gus and the children rapidly running out of hope. ‘If Aloysius has disappeared – which frankly doesn’t surprise me in the least, he always was the most careless and lackadaisical child – then you cannot pass up such a wonderful opportunity to find him.’

  ‘You knew Papa when he was little?’ Bella asked, fascinated.

  ‘Of course.’ Miss Fell raised one narrow arched eyebrow. ‘I must be your cousin, some several times removed. Certainly we are related in some way.’

  ‘Oh.’ Bella eyed her a little anxiously. Miss Fell looked like the very worst kind of relative – far too observant, and a stickler for good manners. Except in the case of gatecrashing masked balls, evidently.

  ‘Miss Fell…’ Rose hesitated. Should they tell her about the mask? Miss Fell already knew about Gossamer and the princess, but Mr Fountain and the king had been so anxious to avoid a panic with the news of the mask. Rose eyed the little old lady, her hands in their lace mittens neatly folded on the silver head of her stick. She did not look like the sort ofperson who panicked.

  ‘What is it, child?’

  ‘It isn’t only Gossamer. Or rather, it is, but…’

  ‘Don’t mumble, dear. Come to the point.’

  ‘He stole something from the king’s palace, when he was in London. A mask, one that came from here a long time ago.’

  Miss Fell’s piercing blue eyes fixed on Rose, and she leaned forward, her sharp nose giving her a sudden hawk-like look. ‘You mean Gossamer has the magician’s mask?’

  ‘Ye-ees…’ Rose wilted under Miss Fell’s glare.

  ‘Good gracious. How on earth did Aloysius let that happen?’

  ‘It wasn’t Papa’s fault,’ Bella said sulkily.

  Miss Fell gave Bella a very aunt-like look, and Bella shut her mouth with a snap. ‘This puts a different complexion on things,’ Miss Fell murmured. ‘I had been relying on you children to retrieve Aloysius yourselves – you seem perfectly capable, and I do not go about in company a great deal these days, it’s simply too tiring.’

  Rose exchanged a glance with Freddie. Miss Fell looked to them like one of those indestructible little old ladies who goes on for ever, bullying generations of her distant relatives.

  ‘Really, why Aloysius had to go meddling at the palace, I just don’t understand. But then he always was an inquisitive little boy.’

  ‘We were worried that the duke had been bewitched,’ Gus told her bluntly, only the twitch in his tail betraying how worried he really was. ‘He seemed…clouded. And then when we went to look for him yesterday, we saw Gossamer with the duke’s brother, Girolamo…’

  Miss Fell’s delicately arched brows drew together.‘Venetian history is full of the most shocking family feuds. But could Gossamer really…? Well, that settles it. I shall have to tell Maria to get out my heliotrope silk. The duke always invites me to this ridiculous affair, but usually I decline. But if Gossamer is going to be messing about with masks, I shall make the effort. I will be quite prostrated for the next week, of course, but there. I cannot go searching through the palace, like you young things, but there are other ways I can help. And I shall most certainly speak to His Grace.’

  The children stared at her doubtfully, but Miss Fell gave a small, sly smile. ‘Old ladies have their uses. They won’t dare refuse me an audience, my dears.’

  ‘But I still don’t see how we can go at all! The invitation for tonight was to Mr Fountain,’ Rose protested. ‘How can we just arrive at a palace ball without him?’

  ‘Rose, you must try not to be excessively worried over trifles. You are Lord Lynton’s guests, you can very well go with him.’ Miss Fell glared at Rose severely, and then she sighed, and gazed thoughtfully at the ceiling, as if she were trying to think what to say. ‘My dear, the duke’s parties have a – reputation. There will be a great many people milling about, and by the end of the evening, many of them will be somewhat the worse for wear.’ She closed her eyes in distaste. ‘No one will notice you combing the palace for Aloysius, you will just have to be careful not to trip over the sleepingrevellers in the passageways.’

  Rose raised her eyebrows – it did not sound like a duke’s party to her. ‘How very odd.’

  Bella made a strange little noise in her throat, looking from Miss Fell to Rose and back again.

  ‘What is it?’ Rose frowned at her.

  ‘Nothing. At least – no, nothing…’ But she was frowning at Miss Fell as she said it.

  Miss Fell smiled back at her, another strange, complicitous little smile. ‘Hmm. Yes, quite so, Bella dear.’ Her sharp blue eyes flicked back to Rose. ‘A most marked resemblance,’ she murmured softly.

  Rose was about to ask her to explain, when the old lady suddenly shook her head, and was all briskness again. ‘Even if it were a dreadful thing to do, needs must, Rose my dear. Aloysius must be in that great prison-hulk of a palace somewhere. You will never have a better time to search for him.’ Then she closed her eyes for a second. ‘It pains me to say this, but I must. If Gossamer has the mask, then he will surely be at the palace tonight, and you will have to stop himtaking part in the ritual. Somehow. He cannot be there at midnight. That is even more important than finding Aloysius.’

  Bella gasped, and Gus let out a tiny hiss. Freddie stared at Miss Fell, wide-eyed with shock.

  Rose swallowed painfully. Three days ago, after the boys had attacked her and Bella, she had said herself that Gossamer couldn’t be allowed to use the mask in the ceremony. But she had never thought it would come to a choice between stopping Gossamer and finding Mr Fountain.

  Miss Fell nodded, and said gently, ‘You know that it’s true. Of course I devoutly hope that you will rescue Aloysius, and then you will all deal with Gossamer together. But it may not be that way, and you cannot let Gossamer becom
e even stronger. That man, and that mask…’ She sank back against the sofa cushions, suddenly looking very, very old. ‘I have seen the ritual before, and I know what it can do. Only for a very few of those there, but…’

  ‘So what exactly does it do?’ Gus growled. ‘I’m tired of hearing stories about it.’

  Miss Fell’s voice was thin and whispery. ‘It does what it was always meant to do. It strengthens the magic in the city. It shows the duke’s love for his people. But – it’s very strong magic. Old magic that’s been built up over the centuries, and sometimes it works too well. The more you wear a mask, andthe more you love it, the harder it is to take it off. Theceremony makes it even more so. It can bind the mask and the wearer together, if they want it. It strengthens any magic the person already has, and it seals the spells that are on the mask into their skin.’

  ‘I thought so. That’s why they don’t come off?’ Rosewhispered faintly. ‘That boy’s mask had grown onto his face.’

  ‘I don’t see why anyone would want to do that.’ Freddie was frowning. ‘Aren’t most people here magicians anyway? It sounds horrible. Why would you want to wear a mask all the time?’

  Miss Fell smiled. ‘Venice is a city of secrets, Frederick. Some people only want to show a painted face.’

  Rose gave a nervous little gulp, and then burst out, ‘The mask-maker we went to didn’t want to let me take my mask. He said I wanted it too much, and if I put it on when I felt like that, one day I’d never be able to take it off. He let me have it but I had to promise him I’d never put it on because I wanted to be someone else. Does that make me a terrible person?Like Gossamer?’

  Miss Fell reached out a hand and gently stroked Rose’s cheek. The lace was scratchy, and smelled of lavender, and Rose shivered. ‘Rose, if you were like Gossamer, you would have snatched the mask, and left the man dying in his shop. There is nothing wrong with wanting to pretend a little, here and there. But the man was right. You must be proud of who you are.’