The Dark City

by Imogen Rossi

  Master di Lombardi, help me. Should I go back? I didn’t tell Edita where I was going; won’t she worry? But I didn’t tell Catriona where I was going, either. Or Cosimo, or Rosa, or Master Xavier.

  Even Marco’s angry with me.

  ‘I’ve made a huge mess of all of this,’ she muttered. She knew she didn’t belong in La Luminosa, but everything she loved was here. And she wanted to belong in Oscurita, except nobody but her mother seemed to even want her.

  Bong, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong, bong.

  Bianca shivered as the bell from the Via del Orologico rang out the time.

  Ten o’clock.

  There was just one place she could go to get her head straight, somewhere that didn’t feel like it belonged to either Catriona or Edita.

  Master di Lombardi’s private studio.

  She hurried along the corridors, partly remembering and partly feeling her way, until she turned down a dim corridor to find the door into the studio. Stepping into the bright room, she felt a little calmer as she looked at the paintings and contraptions she’d been working on. She might not feel completely at home in either city, but this place in the no-man’s-land of the passages was hers, as surely as it’d been di Lombardi’s.

  Bianca’s eyes fell on a charcoal self-portrait she’d begun a few days ago, and she hesitated, surprised by how much it looked like her mother, and not herself at all.

  The picture seemed to call to her. It wasn’t magic – it was something even more powerfully tempting. It was the urge to draw something. Anything.

  Maybe if I finish this quickly I’ll feel better, she thought. She’d certainly be able to strike ‘perhaps I’m not even an artist any more’ off her growing list of anxieties.

  I’ll do this, and then I’ll go back to Oscurita and let them know I am safe. She seized a stick of charcoal and started to sketch in more lines, adding just a few small wrinkles and changing the shape of the hair to make it look all the more like her mother. I’ll put everything right in both cities, she thought as she worked. She’d apologise to her mother for running off like a child. Then she’d apologise to the Duchess Catriona for abandoning her too. She’d search Filpepi’s studio for proof of his evil deeds, then go back to Oscurita and show it to her mother. She could write the definitive work on magical paints while she was living in her mother’s palace and give it to Cosimo when it was done.

  She found herself smiling as she filled in a shadow beneath her mother’s lips. That actually sounds like a plan.

  Just as she was raising her charcoal towards her mother’s eye … it blinked.

  Bianca dropped the charcoal.

  ‘B-Bianca?’ the picture said, in a voice that was like her mother’s but had a strange rasping tone like the sound of charcoal being dragged over paper. Bianca took a step back and stared as the picture came to life, bit by bit – first the eyes, then the lips, then the rest, until it was as if her mother was looking out at her. She gasped and her lips trembled. ‘Bianca! Thank goodness, you’re there!’

  ‘I’m here. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you where I was going,’ Bianca said. She stared into her mother’s dark eyes as they blinked at her. ‘I … I didn’t even use any magic!’ she gasped. ‘How are you doing this?’

  The drawing of Edita smiled sadly. ‘The bond between us is strong, my love. But there’s no time, I can’t keep this up for long. I need your help!’

  ‘What? What’s wrong?’

  ‘I’m so sorry, darling – you were right about the Baron, and that traitor Filpepi!’

  ‘I knew it!’ Bianca clenched her fists, wishing she could reach into the drawing to embrace her mother. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘No.’ Charcoal tears sprang to Duchess Edita’s eyes. ‘They came in the night. They’d poisoned my guards and bribed my ladies-in-waiting. I’m not badly hurt, but they’ve thrown me in the dungeons and they … they say they’re going to execute me!’

  ‘No!’ Bianca cried. ‘I won’t let them!’

  Duchess Edita sucked in a deep breath. ‘Bianca, I wish I could tell you to stay there, where you’re safe. But the truth is, you can help me.’

  ‘How? Anything!’ Bianca gasped.

  ‘Bring me the medallion,’ Edita said. ‘If I had it I could –’ She froze, and then the charcoal lines juddered into their original position, like a badly painted animare going back to the beginning of its cycle.

  ‘Mother?’ Bianca touched the paper gingerly, but it felt completely ordinary. ‘Mother!’ she shouted. The drawing stayed still. Her mother, the Duchess, was gone.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Bianca burst through the painted greenhouse into the Rose Gallery of the Duchess Catriona’s palace and charged down the corridor towards her rooms. She shouldered past a group of courtiers, who gasped and clutched at their fans. She couldn’t stop to think about what they thought of her, or where they thought she’d been for the last few days – she swore to herself if she could just sort out the Baron and Filpepi for good, she’d make explanations later. But first, she had to save her mother!

  She banged through the door to her bedroom and pulled the bottom drawer from the chest so hard it slid right out and clattered onto the floor.

  As soon as she looked into it she felt a horrible twisting in the pit of her stomach, as if she were standing on the parapet of the White Tower and looking down. Something was wrong. She couldn’t put her finger on it … but something wasn’t as she’d left it. Her heart pounding, she tugged out her apron and unrolled it.

  The medallion wasn’t in the pocket.

  ‘No!’ Bianca groaned. ‘No, come on, come on … ’ She pulled out everything from the drawer, unfolded the clothes, shook them, thrust her hands into the pockets so hard she split one of the seams. But there was nothing. The medallion was gone.

  Someone had to have taken it. But who?

  Who in La Luminosa hates me?

  The answer was obvious. Lucia.

  Bianca sprang to her feet, buoyed up on a wave of rage.

  She was willing to bet Lucia had stolen the cathedral’s painting, no matter what Cosimo said. Lucia had dedicated her life to making Bianca miserable. Of course she’d move on to taking Bianca’s private things. Especially if she had any idea how much the medallion meant to Bianca. How much she missed di Lombardi and longed for a family of her own.

  An image of her mother in a dank dungeon, facing death at the hands of the Baron, sprang to Bianca’s mind and she sniffed back tears. She wouldn’t let this happen. She’d get to the studio, and she’d make Lucia tell her where the medallion was.

  She re-entered the passages through the painting in the Duchess’s drawing room and ran all the way to Filpepi’s study, but when she stormed down the stairs and into the studio the place was deserted. She stood in the doorway, breathing hard. Where were the apprentices? Had they all left? Was the studio shut down until the new master had been chosen?

  Then Bianca slapped her forehead in frustration. Of course – the competition! It was happening right now.

  Gasping in a deep breath, she ran back up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and sprinted through the passages to one of the paintings that hung in the Museum of Art. She threw open the door without even checking if anyone was on the other side. The room she stumbled into was empty, but she could hear the sounds of hushed, excited chattering echoing through the huge, high-ceilinged galleries.

  Her breath rasped in her throat and her knees were shaky from running, but she followed the sound until she came into the central hall of the museum. A crowd had gathered and Bianca elbowed her way through to the front. A towering statue of Catriona’s great-grandmother – the Grand Duchess Angelica – dominated the room, and at her feet three easels set up with paintings were being worked on by the three competitors.

  On the left and right, two adult artists Bianca vaguely knew were hard at work. Laura Dexteris was painting a rather good portrait of Duchess Catriona, and the other one, a man who Bia
nca couldn’t name, seemed to be trying to replicate one of di Lombardi’s landscapes. But neither had any magic paints, and both looked worried as they glanced at the middle easel where Cosimo and Lucia were working together.

  Their painting was truly stunning. They’d created a softly rolling landscape of green hills under a night sky bright with stars. On the closest hill, two trees grew, one silver and one gold. White flowers bloomed on the silver one, stirring in the breeze, and the golden tree’s leaves shone out like a cool flame in the starlight.

  Bianca was struck dumb for a second by its sheer beauty, almost forgetting Lucia’s treachery.

  Wait a second – have they done all this with the magic paints I left behind?

  No, there was no way there could have been enough. The painting was obviously heavily enchanted. There was light, movement, space … Bianca even thought she could hear a low heartbeat, calm and steady, measuring the time between each cycle of growth and death.

  They’ve used a cuore. That’s not even a recipe I’ve used before!

  A gong sounded, and all four artists stepped away from their paintings. The two adults laid down their paintbrushes with sagging shoulders and shook their heads.

  ‘It was a good effort,’ said a lady beside Bianca, smoothing down the fur trim on her gloves. ‘But who could beat the heirs to di Lombardi’s secrets?’

  ‘Looks like they’ve inherited his talent, too,’ said the short man who stood next to her. ‘Very promising.’

  Duchess Catriona stepped forward and presented a signed and sealed contract to Cosimo and Lucia with a broad grin. The two new masters took the document with one hand each and bowed to the assembled crowd, who cheered and whooped. Bianca shrank back, her face flushing. She hoped she could get the medallion from Lucia, rescue her mother and return to La Luminosa without having to explain herself to the Duchess.

  Catriona took a step back and the other apprentices broke from the crowd and ran over to Cosimo and Lucia, congratulating them with loud cheers. They all started to move off. Where were they going? Back to the studio? Bianca moved to follow them, determined not to lose sight of Lucia in the milling crowd.

  ‘Bianca!’ Duchess Catriona’s shriek cut through the chatter and the applause like a hot knife through butter. Everyone in the room turned to look at the Duchess. Bianca briefly considered turning and running, but then the Duchess shouted again, ‘Bianca, come here, at once!’ and she couldn’t make herself disobey. She tried to remember a little of her regal deportment lessons and not skulk or look ashamed as she walked over to where the Duchess was standing.

  ‘Your Highness,’ she said, curtseying low. ‘Duchess Catriona, I’m sorry –’

  ‘Oh, you’d better be sorry!’ Duchess Catriona snapped. ‘Where have you been? First you ignore your duties, and then just when you’ve promised me you’d fight for your position, you vanish! I thought you might have drowned, or been kidnapped! And now you come too late to compete … and don’t even speak to me!’ Catriona shook her head. ‘How dare you curtsey to me as if you were just some servant – I thought you were my friend, Bianca, but it’s been three days without a word! Tell me, where in the name of Saint Philip’s beard have you been?’

  Bianca trembled under Catriona’s onslaught. Hot tears of guilt and shame stung her cheeks. The entire crowd, the entire city, seemed to be waiting for Bianca’s answer. But how could she give an honest one with all these people listening?

  And what was worse, the apprentices had already vanished, and the longer she stood here under Duchess Catriona’s iron gaze, the further she got from the medallion that could save her mother.

  ‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She seized her skirt, turned and ran out of the room.

  Sure enough, when Bianca got back to the studio the apprentices were gathered inside, drinking champagne from chipped mugs and laughing with Cosimo and Lucia. She threw open the door, and they all turned and stared at her.

  ‘Bianca?’

  ‘We’ve been worried sick!’ yelped Rosa.

  ‘We’re sorry we were so horrible,’ said Francesca. ‘Aren’t we?’ She elbowed Gabriella, who grunted vaguely and took another sip of champagne.

  ‘Lucia, where is my medallion?’ Bianca said simply.

  ‘Your what?’ Cosimo frowned. ‘Bianca, if this is because of the competition … ’ He set down his mug of champagne. ‘We all know you didn’t actually want to be the master. Did you?’

  Bianca shook her head. ‘This isn’t about that. I just want my medallion. Master di Lombardi left it to me in his will, and I left it in my room, and now it’s gone.’

  ‘Why do you think I took it?’ Lucia said, her lip twisted with scorn. ‘One of the maids probably stole it – and who can blame them? We all thought you’d run away! I suggest you run off back to the palace and –’

  ‘Shut up, Lucia,’ said a voice. Bianca blinked. It was Francesca. Her knuckles were white and her hands were trembling, making the champagne slop about in her mug, but she met Bianca’s eyes steadily. ‘She’s lying to you, Bianca. She did take the medallion – I saw her with it.’

  Lucia snarled at Francesca. Bianca turned on Lucia – and so did Cosimo. He spoke before she could.

  ‘Why would Francesca say that, Luce?’

  Lucia’s expression turned sour, but she sighed. ‘Because … because I did take the stupid thing.’

  ‘What?’ Cosimo gaped at her. ‘Luce, why? That was Bianca’s personal property – you had no right! It wasn’t even to do with the studio, not like –’ He broke off.

  ‘Not like the painting for the cathedral?’ Bianca asked.

  Cosimo’s shoulders sagged. ‘I’m sorry, Bianca. I was just so angry … ’

  Bianca shook her head. ‘I don’t care, Cosimo. Maybe you can make it up to me later. But right now, I need that medallion. Where did you hide the painting?’

  Cosimo’s face flushed and he walked over to one wall of the studio. Reaching behind a cabinet full of tools, he slid out the canvas, with its rolling hills and little group of pilgrims. The medallion was hanging from one corner. It fell and landed on the tiled floor with a damning clatter. Cosimo stared at it, and then looked at Lucia, hurt and confusion in his face. Bianca ran over and picked up the medallion, cradling it to her like a fragile creature.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ she said.

  ‘Where are you going now?’ Cosimo said again.

  But Bianca held up her hand. ‘I can’t explain.’ She started to walk out, but stopped in the doorway and turned back to meet Cosimo’s eyes … and Lucia’s. ‘Congratulations, that painting was … it was easily as good as one of Master di Lombardi’s.’

  She walked out, too anxious to feel anything but relief about finding the medallion. Now she had to save her mother.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Bianca hurried into the Piazza del Ferranti and saw Master Xavier’s troupe still had their stage set up at one end, complete with the fateful tightrope strung between the roof and the tall pole. It was too early for them to be performing, but at least they hadn’t moved, or left La Luminosa altogether.

  She pushed through the curtain into the master blacksmith’s shop. Only Olivia and another woman were there, dressed in their ordinary clothes. They were going through one of the trunks of props.

  ‘Um, hello,’ said Bianca. ‘Is Marco here?’

  ‘He’s out back,’ said Olivia, gesturing to a doorway beyond the furnace. ‘Just through there.’

  ‘Thank you!’ Bianca hurried through the door and found herself in a little yard outside the blacksmith’s shop. Marco was taking costumes out of a big bucket, wringing them out and hanging them up on a line strung across the yard. He looked up and dropped the tights he’d been holding back into the bucket.

  ‘Bianca?’

  Bianca grinned weakly at him. ‘Hi,’ she said.

  ‘You came back,’ said Marco. ‘Is everything all right?’

  Bianca tried not to actually sink to the floor with
relief and gratitude. ‘No!’ she said. ‘Something’s gone terribly wrong. The Baron and Filpepi have attacked my mother and thrown her into her own dungeons. She told me to fetch the medallion to help her fight them off. Now I need the map to find my way back.’

  Marco instantly ran over to one of the trunks and fished out the parchment.

  At the sight of her best friend dropping everything to help her, Bianca felt like weeping. ‘And I need you too; I can’t do this by myself, please … ’ She gasped for breath.

  Marco shrugged. ‘You and me, defeating the Baron and Filpepi – it’s just what we do, isn’t it? It’s like a hobby. I’ll be back in time for the matinee.’

  Bianca couldn’t help but smile.

  Marco unrolled the map and took in the maze of lines. ‘We want to get back into the castle, right? I think if we run to the Chapel of Santa Pinta, that’ll be quickest.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Bianca panted.

  The Chapel of Santa Pinta was deserted, though the sound of slightly out-of-tune singing echoed around the stone arches.

  ‘Must be having choir practice next door,’ Marco whispered. ‘Quick, let’s get in the passages before they finish.’

  Bianca winced as the singing abruptly broke off and a woman’s voice started to berate the choir for their dull vowel colours. ‘Doesn’t sound like they’ll be finishing any time soon!’ she murmured.

  The mural of Santa Pinta blessing the Duke di Angelo’s horses was in the alcove right behind the altar. Bianca pulled out the paintbrush and muttered the magic words.

  ‘Can I see the map?’ she asked Marco. Marco handed it to her, taking the key and repeating the magic words as he turned it in the lock on the stable door. It swung inwards. Bianca unrolled the map a little way so she could find the chapel and trace the line that would get her back into the castle.

  ‘I hope it’s safe to come out in my drawing room,’ she muttered. ‘There could be another way, a bit closer to the dungeon. But it’ll have to do.’

  She handed the map back to Marco, and he reached out to take it.