The Dark City

by Imogen Rossi

  Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes and Bianca wiped them away. She knew he was dead. That the one person who’d always given her his time and respect and – and yes, friendship, in his own way – was dead and buried in the cemetery of Santa Angelica.

  But she still felt like he might come back to fix his flying machine.

  They don’t read wills for people who are coming back.

  She shook herself, pulled on the thick heatproof gloves and seized the red-hot soldering iron and a length of copper wire.

  That means it’s up to me.

  Bianca puffed and fumbled with the last few laces on the sleeves of her dress as she jogged along the corridor to the small dining room where her breakfast was laid out. She’d overslept, exhausted after a long afternoon and evening trying to fix the flying machine. She couldn’t wait to tell Marco about her progress – it wasn’t quite ready for another flight, but she’d found out how it worked: something to do with the air pressure in the steam chambers.

  She burst into the dining room, expecting to see the tables crowded and buzzing with conversation and the tinkle and clank of plates and cutlery. But instead, they were barely half full, and the atmosphere seemed oddly subdued.

  Bianca frowned. She was late, but not so late that she’d expect everyone to have finished. All the palace stewards and secretaries and the Duchess’s lady’s maids were there as usual, dressed in their neat, simple jewel-coloured suits and gowns – but Marco and the other entertainers from Master Xavier’s troupe were nowhere to be seen.

  Bianca went to the end of the table where platters of sliced breads, fruits, bowls of scrambled eggs and smoked meats were laid out, next to a huge steaming pot full of dark bitter coffee that was drunk from tiny black porcelain mugs.

  Lady Amanita, the Duchess’s private hairdresser, was just pouring herself a cup. She gave Bianca a friendly smile. Bianca liked Amanita – after all, they were both in the business of trying to get Duchess Catriona to sit still.

  ‘Morning, Amanita,’ Bianca said, picking up a plate and a crusty bread roll. ‘Have you seen Marco?’

  The smile faded from Amanita’s lips. ‘Oh my dear, didn’t anyone tell you? The troupe is leaving.’

  Bianca dropped her plate. It rattled on the table, and the bread roll fell off and bounced across the floor. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘The courtyard,’ she said.’ You’d better run if you want to catch them.’

  Bianca turned and bolted out of the door.

  She heard the commotion before she actually reached the courtyard – rattling boxes, creaking carts, stamping horses’ hooves, the muttering of a crowd – and the Duchess Catriona’s raised voice.

  ‘No. I forbid it!’

  Bianca stumbled out through an arch into the blazing sunshine and blinked, trying to get her head around the scene in front of her. It was true. Crates and trunks and boxes spilling over with costumes and props were being loaded onto seven carts emblazoned with Master Xavier’s Harlequin Troupe in curly golden lettering. Master Xavier himself stood by the largest and grandest of them, politely defying the Duchess.

  ‘My most heartfelt apologies, Your Highness,’ he said, one hand clutched over his heart. ‘But you have to understand – I run a travelling troupe, we must travel!’

  Marco was sitting on the edge of the cart behind him, his shoulders hunched. He looked up and saw Bianca, sprang off the cart and ran across the square towards her.

  ‘Is it true? Are you really leaving?’ Bianca asked, dismay ringing in her voice.

  Marco shrugged miserably. ‘Father says this has been coming a long time. He set up the troupe to see the world, and that’s what he plans to do – or at least some of the country outside La Luminosa. He doesn’t want us to lose our edge and turn into lapdogs. Or something.’

  ‘I … I don’t want you to go.’ The words seemed to tumble over each other all at once. ‘You can’t just go … you’ll come back, right?’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Marco.

  ‘I will never invite you to the palace again!’ yelled the Duchess, stamping her foot.

  ‘I hope that isn’t true, Your Highness,’ said Master Xavier, calmly. ‘Marco,’ he called. ‘Come along, it’s time.’

  Bianca walked with Marco over to the cart. Master Xavier smiled at her.

  ‘We’ll be performing around the city for at least a few days,’ he said kindly. ‘And after that we’ll take our act out to the vine country. Perhaps you could come and see us there.’

  Bianca nodded, pressing her lips together, not quite trusting herself to speak.

  Marco had helped her solve the mystery of di Lombardi’s death. He’d been the one person she could tell all her secrets, when she couldn’t even trust Rosa or the other apprentices who she’d lived with for years. Plus, he’d even forgiven her for accusing him of being an assassin.

  What’s more, he was … like her. He was normal. It was oddly flattering to think that when he left, her best friend in the palace would be the Duchess, ruler of La Luminosa … but it was daunting, too. Bianca would never be Catriona’s equal.

  Bianca grabbed Marco and pulled him into a tight, brief hug and then pushed him away towards the steps of the cart. Marco climbed up with a grin. ‘See you soon,’ he said.

  Bianca nodded.

  Master Xavier climbed up too and swept a low, theatrical bow to Duchess Catriona. ‘Goodbye, my Duchess.’

  Duchess Catriona’s face was pink with anger and she set her jaw, sullenly silent. Then one of the troupe struck up a cheerful march on a trumpet. The driver urged their horse forward, and the cart began to move off. The Duchess seemed torn for a second, her frown softening. Then she picked up her skirts and ran forward, calling after the cart. ‘Come back soon, Master Xavier. You’ll always be welcome here!’

  Marco’s father bowed again, and one by one the tumblers’ carts rattled across the courtyard and out of the gate. Bianca ran to the edge of the bridge and watched as Marco’s cart crossed the Grand Canal and vanished into the sparkling city.

  The Duchess was calling to Bianca from behind her, but the sound seemed lost in the din of the morning markets and the glare of the bright bustling canals. It felt wrong that this should be just a normal day for all these people, going about their everyday business while Bianca’s world had been pulled from under her. For a second, all she was aware of was the dull thumping of her heart. But then the full, catastrophic realisation hit her. Marco was gone.

  Her best friend had left her.

  Chapter Four

  Bianca walked slowly across the courtyard, feeling as if her shoes were weighted with lead.

  The Duchess stepped forward and took Bianca’s hands in hers, squeezing them tight. ‘I’m so sorry. I tried to forbid them to leave,’ she said.

  ‘I know.’ Bianca nodded. She met the Duchess’s eyes and gave the best smile she could muster. ‘I just wish … I mean, first my master, and now … ’ She swallowed and shook her head. ‘We’ll see them again. They’ll come back soon, won’t they?’

  Duchess Catriona nodded. ‘I’ll make sure they do. And you can go into the city to see them any time you like. In the meantime, you must see the other apprentices more often. You miss them, don’t you?’

  Bianca smiled, and this time she meant it. It was true – she hadn’t had a chance to see Rosa, Cosimo, Domenico or Sebastiano since she moved to the palace.

  ‘Your Highness,’ said the thin, creaky voice of Secretary Franco. Duchess Catriona pulled a sour face as if she’d swallowed half a lemon and then turned to watch the Secretary hurrying across the courtyard. ‘Do you wish to change and prepare, before the reading of Master di Lombardi’s will?’

  ‘What are you trying to say?’ asked Duchess Catriona, tossing her loose hair over her shoulder and smoothing down the ruffles in her skirt. ‘I am perfectly prepared, thank you.’

  ‘Then we should begin,’ said Secretary Franco, and stood aside to let the Duchess lead the way inside. Bianca wanted to gra
b Catriona’s hand and beg her to tell her all about the will reading afterwards, but she didn’t want Franco to have any more reason to think of her as a disrespectful peasant. She stood back and looked down at the floor.

  ‘Are you quite ready, Miss Bianca?’ Secretary Franco croaked.

  ‘Er … ready?’ Bianca blinked at him.

  ‘For the will reading. You should have received a summons as well.’

  This came as a complete shock. Why would Bianca be asked to the will reading?

  Duchess Catriona squeezed Bianca’s arm. ‘How wonderful! Master Annunzio has left you something!’ she said. ‘I wonder what it’ll be?’

  Bianca forced a smile, and let the Duchess lead her inside, but her heart thumped nervously in her chest. She knew that she wasn’t Master di Lombardi’s least favourite apprentice … she’d grown up in his house, abandoned on his doorstep. She didn’t remember living anywhere else. And he’d always been very kind to her, in his gruff, grumpy way.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ Bianca said, lowering her voice. ‘He only gave me the paintbrush key because I happened to be there. I was just an apprentice!’

  ‘And a cheeky one, too,’ grinned Duchess Catriona as they ducked through the cool archway, flustered servants and courtiers stepping aside with bows and curtseys. ‘He was always talking about some liberty you’d taken, how you wouldn’t listen, how he didn’t want you to grow up thinking natural talent would be enough … ’

  Bianca flushed. ‘I disappointed him.’

  ‘No … don’t you see?’ the Duchess went on, her voice softening. ‘He was always talking about you.’

  Bianca hadn’t realised it was possible to blush deeper, but her cheeks were burning hot now. Perhaps di Lombardi had left her something. A few spare paints, perhaps? Not that she wanted anything. She had the secret passages and his own workshop, even if that was an accident – it was more than any apprentice could ask for.

  But it would be nice to think he had spared a thought for her at some time.

  The throne room doors swung open as if by magic when the Duchess approached – really Bianca knew that there were footmen standing on the other side, listening for her footsteps – and she swept in without breaking her stride. The small crowd inside broke off their conversations and knelt down, their hands over their hearts.

  Bianca’s spirits lifted as she saw that all of di Lombardi’s other apprentices were there too. And so were Angela the kitchen maid, and Mistress Quinta, di Lombardi’s cook and housekeeper. Bianca’s blush faded and her grin grew wider as she realised that her master had included all his loyal servants in his will. She felt silly for thinking she was the only one. Of course, the fate of the studio concerns all of us!

  Duchess Catriona swept up the steps to the golden throne in a rustle of silk while Bianca went to stand beside Cosimo, di Lombardi’s head apprentice. There was a buzz of excited chatter as the apprentices greeted Bianca. Cosimo smiled and squeezed her hand, and Rosa pushed past him to gather Bianca into a hug.

  ‘It’s so good to see you,’ Bianca whispered to them all. Sebastiano and Domenico grinned hugely over Rosa’s shoulder.

  The Duchess clapped her hands. Everyone fell silent and got to their feet.

  ‘Master Cuocco,’ said Duchess Catriona, settling on the throne. The Master Lawyer hurried to the foot of the steps and bowed, his thin white hair fluttering around his head like a halo. ‘Let us begin,’ she commanded.

  Master Cuocco nodded, turned and accepted a scroll of paper from Secretary Franco – and then another, and another. He set them down on a table by his hand and coughed.

  ‘On this day, the thirty-first of her eternal majesty’s blessed reign, we the assembled gather at the Palace of La Luminosa, in the city of La Luminosa, to hear the final wishes of Master Annunzio di Lombardi. We gather in the sight of Her Eternal Majesty Duchess Catriona Sebastienne Cleolinda Vienna Regina da Luminosa … ’

  Bianca caught Duchess Catriona rolling her eyes and grinned. If this was the sort of thing where the Duchess was referred to by her full royal name, they were obviously going to be here for quite a while before anything really happened. She shuffled closer to the other apprentices and risked a wave over at Angela, who waved back.

  ‘How’s life at the palace?’ Domenico whispered.

  ‘Oh, it’s … it’s great,’ Bianca said. ‘It’s kind of weird, though.’

  ‘Weird?’ Rosa gasped. ‘Living in the palace, spending all your time with lords and ladies and walking arm in arm with the Duchess? I think you mean fabulous.’

  Bianca smiled, but the wistful look in Rosa’s eyes made her a little sad. Rosa would make a much better Royal-Artist-In-Residence than her. She wasn’t, Bianca had to admit, a better artist – but she’d be better at enjoying the lavish lifestyle.

  ‘I do have an amazing bedroom all to myself,’ Bianca said. ‘My bed is bigger than our whole room in Master di Lombardi’s house!’

  Rosa, Domenico and Sebastiano all groaned jealously.

  ‘Lucky,’ said Sebastiano. ‘We’re still in Filpepi’s old house, sleeping in the dormitories with his apprentices.’

  ‘It’s better than before,’ Rosa added hurriedly. ‘They’re all being much nicer. Poor things – to find out your master was a traitor! Such a shock. Still … ’ She leaned closer, with the intense gaze that Rosa always got when she had some really juicy gossip to pass on. ‘They’ve been telling us terrible things about the way he ran his studio. No wonder they were all so on edge when we arrived.’

  Bianca nodded, though she wasn’t sure the other apprentices’ behaviour could all be blamed on having a bad master.

  Across the room Master Cuocco read out di Lombardi’s gift to Mistress Quinta – a retirement fund that would keep her in comfort in her old age. The housekeeper fanned herself and turned away, trying to hide the tears that sprang into her eyes.

  ‘And Cosimo and Lucia have even been working together!’ Domenico went on.

  ‘Well, it’s our duty, as head apprentices,’ said Cosimo sternly, though Bianca thought she caught the faintest hint of a blush. ‘We have to keep everything working, until we know what’s going to happen to our two studios.’

  Rosa opened her mouth to speak, but then the words ‘To my youngest apprentice, Bianca … ’ rang out across the throne room.

  Bianca spun around to face Master Cuocco, who raised his eyebrow at her and then went back to reading.

  ‘ … I leave my favourite paintbrush.’ Master Cuocco looked up at Bianca. ‘I presume you know which one that is and can collect it for yourself?’

  Bianca’s stomach twisted and she nodded.

  It’s the one in my pocket.

  But what did that mean? Did he always plan for her to find the secret passages? Why her?

  ‘Good. Ahem. And I also leave her this letter and package.’ Master Cuocco reached into a leather bag and pulled out an envelope and a small package, about the size of Bianca’s fist, wrapped in thin black paper and tied with bright blue string. He held them out to her.

  Bianca stepped forward and took them gingerly, almost afraid that they would crumble or fly out of her hands. There, in Master di Lombardi’s handwriting, was her name. She blinked back tears – inside this envelope there was a letter from Annunzio di Lombardi directly to her. She met the other apprentices’ curious gazes and shrugged. She had no idea what he could want to say.

  ‘Finally, and most importantly, my house and its contents, including my studio, unfinished works, the care and responsibility for all my current apprentices and servants, and the office of running my studio to the financial and creative benefit of the owner and the crown, are all left to … ’ Master Cuocco hesitated, and his eyes flickered to Duchess Catriona. ‘Umm … my former apprentice … Master Piero Filpepi.’

  A tense drawing in of breath echoed around the throne room, more like a hiss of collective pain than a gasp of shock.

  Duchess Catriona got to her feet. ‘Piero Filpepi is a traitor to the c
rown,’ she said in a low, slow growl, ‘and as such, he cannot ever own any property in the city of La Luminosa.’ She took a theatrical look out over the crowd. ‘I declare that Master di Lombardi’s studio and apprentices and … all of that stuff Master Cuocco listed … are now property of the crown. As Duchess, I will decide who will run them.’

  There was a sigh as the assembled people let go of the breath they’d all been holding. Bianca grinned at the other apprentices. Thank goodness – now the Duchess could pick someone who could actually run the studio and get things back to normal.

  ‘And I have made my decision,’ said Duchess Catriona, with a broad smile. Bianca looked up. Already? But who would it be? Most of the other artists in the city didn’t have experience running a studio … they needed someone who already knew how it all worked, who’d been in charge of apprentices before.

  ‘There is someone here who, while young, has certainly proved themselves.’

  Bianca looked up at Cosimo. Cosimo had held them all together when their master had died. He’d kept the studio going when first di Lombardi and then Filpepi had gone.

  ‘The studios will be run by someone who has worked hard to be worthy of inheriting Master di Lombardi’s position.’

  Cosimo’s chest started to swell as he took a long breath. He deserved this.

  ‘I refer, of course, to my court Artist-In-Residence. Bianca.’

  Bianca was speechless. She gaped at the Duchess, who winked. Bianca could only blink dumbly back.

  Master of the studio? Me? Bianca cast a look at the other apprentices and swallowed. They were all staring at her as if she’d turned into a frog in the middle of the throne room.

  Cosimo looked like he’d been cast in stone. He spoke through gritted teeth, forcing a smile. ‘Congratulations, Bianca. You’re the Duchess’s favourite.’

  Bianca spun to face the Duchess. ‘Your Highness,’ she stammered, ‘I can’t … it’s an honour that I don’t … ’

  ‘It is my desire,’ said Duchess Catriona, narrowing her eyes at the courtiers, who were looking just as shocked as the apprentices. ‘And in case you’ve forgotten, my desire is your command. Now … please join me in congratulating Bianca.’ The Duchess nodded solemnly in Bianca’s direction. Master Cuocco bowed, and the bobbing motion swept through the rest of the crowd as one by one everyone bowed or curtseyed to Bianca.