by Anna Hoghton
Rodolfo’s eyebrows rose. ‘Because you’re what?’
She swallowed and looked down at her soggy boots. The words came out of her mouth before she could stop them. ‘Because I’m strange.’
When she looked up, Rodolfo was smiling. ‘Do you want to know the secret about being a misfit? You’re never the only one. You just haven’t found where you belong yet. You are no stranger than me, than the rest of us. You are a Cannovacci, Aribella.’
‘A what?’
‘A person with powers. I’m one too. A star-reader.’ He held up the starry mask.
‘A star-reader? What does that mean?’
‘It’s rather complicated and this must be overwhelming. Don’t worry, everything will be explained in due course. First, however, we need to get your friend home. I’m assuming he hasn’t got any hidden talents?’
Theo gave a loud snore and murmured, ‘Pretty boat, my boat . . . boat.’
Theo’s boat! Aribella looked around. It must have sunk to the bottom of the lagoon. Her stomach twisted with guilt. Theo had loved that boat more than anything in the world and his papa would never be able to afford to replace it, especially now there were so few fish to catch.
Rodolfo put his star mask back on and slid the gondola’s long, single oar back into the oarlock. The gondola turned in an elegant circle. If they’d been able to do that in Theo’s boat, they might have got away from that awful spectre . . . The rising dead . . . She shivered and pushed the thought away, only to have it replaced by another: a Cannovacci . . . a person with powers . . . What did that mean?
The movement of the gondola was swan-like and serene, a world away from the clunky motion of Theo’s boat. Soon they were flying across the lagoon, gathering so much speed that Aribella’s knotted black hair flapped behind her and her breath was snatched from her throat. Goosebumps rippled across her skin. The wind was icy but exhilarating, and even in her state of turmoil, Aribella felt thrilled at the speed of the air rushing by. She’d thought gondolas were fast but this was something else. How was it possible to move so quickly? She wished Theo had been awake to experience it.
In hardly any time at all the familiar shape of Burano appeared ahead of them. The little cottages looked fragile against the darkness now that Aribella knew awful creatures like the spectre were lurking on the lagoon.
Rodolfo slid the gondola up to a mooring post. Aribella climbed out, shivering.
‘Here, put this on.’ Rodolfo unbuckled the clasp round his neck and held out his star cloak. ‘You’re going to need it on the way back.’
Way back to where? Reluctantly, Aribella took the cloak and put it round her shoulders. It was much too long and heavy so she had to be careful not to trip, but it was surprisingly warm and soft and a welcome relief from her damp clothes.
Rodolfo lifted Theo over one shoulder. ‘Lead the way!’
She took him down the empty streets to Via Fortuna and Theo’s cottage, wondering what people would think if they looked out of their windows. But no faces appeared, and they reached Theo’s cottage unnoticed.
Rodolfo laid Theo on the cobblestones outside his door. Warm light spilt out from the kitchen window and over Theo’s face. The yellow bruise remained on his temple, but the black mark was almost gone. Only a dim circle remained under his skin, like a shadow.
Theo’s eyelids fluttered. ‘Ari,’ he murmured.
‘We should go,’ Rodolfo said.
‘Can’t I say goodbye?’ Aribella pleaded. She didn’t want to leave Theo without an explanation.
‘It’s best he wakes up alone. The healing of the Four Thieves Vinegar is deep. The last few hours will vanish like a dream and he’ll be better off without those memories. Don’t worry, you’ll see him soon.’
Aribella was not sure she believed this, but she wanted to protect Theo. Rodolfo gave Theo’s front door two sharp raps then retreated, gesturing for Aribella to follow. With an aching heart, Aribella joined him in the shadows. They were still in plain view of the doorway.
‘But won’t they see us here?’ she asked.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that.’ Rodolfo tapped his starry mask. ‘My mask makes us unwatchable when necessary.’
‘Makes us what?’
‘Unwatchable,’ Rodolfo replied, a little impatiently. ‘But not unhearable, so please shush.’
Aribella fought down the questions that leapt to her tongue as Theo’s door swung open and warm light poured into the street. Relieved exclamations from Theo’s papa, brothers and sister carried into the night air. Aribella wanted to cry out to them, to run into their arms too, but their hugs weren’t meant for her. So she remained silent beside Rodolfo. No one seemed to see them, as he had said.
The last thing she heard before they took him inside was Theo exclaiming, ‘Papa, what’s going on? How did I get here?’ Then the door closed and the street was dark once more.
Goodbye, Theo. Aribella’s stomach twisted. Would she ever see him again?
‘Come on,’ Rodolfo said. ‘If you want to help your papa, we should get back to the Halfway Hotel and tell the others what has happened here.’ He turned back towards the harbour.
The Halfway Hotel? Was that some cruel nickname for the prison? And what others?
It could still be a trick, but Rodolfo had completed his part of the bargain and taken Theo home. Taking a deep breath, Aribella turned away from Burano, from everything she knew, and followed Rodolfo.
Her heart was full of worries for her papa, fear for what her future might hold and sadness that she hadn’t said goodbye to Theo. But underneath was the strangest flutter of excitement, like a tiny bird flexing its wings, growing stronger with every step towards the harbour. She felt as if she had been waiting her whole life for something to happen, something that would show her who she was – and this, bizarrely enough, felt like it might be it.
Indeed, something about stepping back into the gondola felt like the start of an adventure.
The gondola moved so smoothly away from the harbour that it took Aribella a moment to realize Rodolfo had started rowing. As it gathered speed once more, the ferro dipped like the neck of a racehorse. The wind whipped back Aribella’s hair and sent the borrowed star cloak flapping about her shoulders. It was as if they weren’t even on the surface of the water any more, but gliding through the air.
They soon left Burano far behind. All around was nothing but water, the shadows of distant islands, the moon and stars. The lagoon was beautiful and glassy, full of silver reflections. It was magical and peaceful, and hard to believe that this was the same lagoon on which the horrid skull had appeared less than an hour ago. The night sky was clear and mist-free, and the stars looked so close and crisp that Aribella felt she could reach out and pluck one right out of the sky and wear it as a jewel. There were no other boats out and the beauty of the lagoon seemed to exist for Aribella’s eyes alone.
From behind her came the first notes of a tune, and Aribella turned to look. Rodolfo’s tall and wiry frame was silhouetted against the moon, and he was singing one of the folk songs of the gondoliers, she realized, recognizing it. She and Theo had heard them haunting the lagoon their whole lives. The sound always unlocked something deep inside Aribella, something she didn’t fully understand. Rodolfo’s singing seemed to echo further across the lagoon than seemed possible, almost as if he were sending a message, and it soothed her frayed nerves.
Soon, the main island appeared, its domes and spires duplicated upon the surface of the lagoon, so that it seemed as if there were two cities – a city of the water and a city of the air – shimmering with dual possibilities. Aribella had never seen the main island at this time of night before; it was strange and ghostly without the usual daytime crowds. The gondolas outside the palace were motionless at their posts and a brooding stillness settled over everything. A spike of fear returned to Aribella’s heart as she looked at the winged chimeras, angels and gargoyles engraved in the palace walls, at the Lion’s Mouth and the palace prison .
. . Was Papa already there? Her imagination filled with subterranean chambers and torture devices. Few knew what the palace prison was like inside, as those that crossed the famous Bridge of Sighs rarely returned.
Rodolfo must have caught the direction of her gaze. ‘Don’t worry,’ he called, ‘we’ll help your papa. But there’s somewhere else we need to go first.’
He swung the gondola into the Grand Canal. The boat began to rock for the first time, not clumsily like Theo’s boat but as if it was rearing, and Aribella again had the strange sense that it was alive.
‘She doesn’t like the canals as much as the open water,’ said Rodolfo. ‘They make her feel trapped. I understand how she feels sometimes.’
Another bizarre statement, but with everything else going on Aribella didn’t question it. Especially since a small black bat had just flown out of the darkness and landed on Rodolfo’s shoulder. It folded its leathery wings and looked at her, its beady eyes shining in the lantern light. Aribella wasn’t sure how to recognize one bat from another, but she was somehow sure this was the same bat she had seen on the lagoon.
‘Aribella, this is Io,’ announced Rodolfo.
‘That bat is your pet?’
‘Companion,’ Rodolfo corrected her. ‘I’m more his pet than he is mine – hold on!’ he added as the gondola rocked again.
They continued to move down the Grand Canal, taking the route Aribella and Theo always took to the pescheria, heading towards the heart of the floating city. But when they reached the Rialto Bridge, the gondola slowed and, instead of passing underneath, to Aribella’s astonishment, they slid up to the jetty of the dilapidated palazzo she’d always loved.
‘We’re here!’ Rodolfo announced cheerily.
The yellow paint was still peeling, the windows were dark and empty, and the ancient jetty had several boards missing. Was this supposed to be the Halfway Hotel? Surely, Rodolfo had made a mistake.
‘I’ll just tie her up. You can go on inside.’
He fastened the gondola to one of the splintered mooring posts and ushered her on to the broken jetty. Aribella had to be careful where she put her feet so she didn’t go right through the boards. Rodolfo’s expression was hidden behind his star mask but she wondered if he was teasing her. She was cold and tired and not in the mood for jokes.
Feeling unsure, she waited while Rodolfo knelt and stroked the gondola. It hummed in a way that reminded Aribella of purring but must surely be vibrations from the water. All of a sudden, the gondola began to sink into the canal.
‘Signore, your boat!’ she cried out.
‘It’s perfectly fine, don’t worry. She’s off to bed. Well, go on in!’ Rodolfo urged, nodding towards the entrance.
Aribella had no idea what was going on, or why Rodolfo was so unconcerned that his beautiful gondola had just sunk to the bottom of the canal. She turned to the palazzo. What if he’d been lying and the Doge’s guards were waiting for her? But then why wouldn’t he just have taken her to the prison?
She didn’t know where the doors of the palazzo would lead her but she knew she had to go through. If there was even the smallest chance that by stepping inside she would find out why so many strange things were happening to her, then she had to do it.
Taking a deep breath, Aribella picked her way across the missing boards to the doors. The orange-and-purple stained glass must have been beautiful once but now it was so smashed you could hardly tell.
Gingerly, Aribella pushed open the doors and peered inside. The lobby must also have been grand once but now it was just as dark and neglected as the exterior. The stone floor was cracked from flooding in the high tides of the acqua alta, and the soot-blackened fireplace looked as if it hadn’t been used for centuries. The sweeping staircase had too many stairs missing to be useable, and the sagging ceiling beams looked as though they might collapse at any moment. Pigeons had made an untidy nest in the corners of the room and a mournful coo echoed through the empty chamber, along with the dripping sound of a leak. The smell of mould clogged her nose and she could hear the scuttling of rats.
‘You’ve got to go all the way in or else you won’t see,’ Rodolfo called from behind her.
Aribella gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to tell him he was crazy. The palazzo was obviously abandoned. But as soon as both of her feet crossed the threshold, everything changed. Aribella blinked in amazement.
The pigeon nests disappeared, the walls covered themselves with plum-coloured wallpaper, and a soft orange carpet unfurled beneath her damp feet. Gleaming mahogany coffee tables appeared – complete with soft lampshades and vases of sweet-smelling peonies. Sofas materialized out of the air, piled with plump cushions. The previously empty fireplace filled with a roaring fire. Candlesticks flew through the air to land neatly at either end of the newly fixed mantelpiece. The staircase repaired itself and a huge reception desk sprang up in front of it.
Aribella stepped back out on to the broken jetty in alarm, only the jetty wasn’t broken any more either! It looked freshly polished and good as new. The mooring posts were no longer splintered and rotten, but striped like candy cane with gleaming golden rings.
Aribella’s jaw dropped further as she gazed up at the palazzo’s facade – the canary-yellow paint was no longer dull and peeling but bright and cheerful, and the windows that had been dark and empty now glowed with warm candlelight. Stained-glass diamonds on the entrance door sparkled merrily in the light of lanterns on either side. The door handles had reshaped themselves into golden winged lions, like the one painted on Rodolfo’s boat. And in swirling letters above the doorway, a sign read: Welcome to the Halfway Hotel.
‘But . . . how . . . ?’ Aribella exclaimed, struggling to speak.
Rodolfo laughed again, as he had done on the lagoon, light and bright. He held up three fingers and counted them off one by one. ‘Never judge a book by its cover. Never judge a person by their mask. And never judge a hotel by her facade. Most people are so preoccupied with how things appear on the surface that they never find out what they’re really like. The Halfway only shows her beauty to the Cannovacci who step over the threshold.’
Aribella continued to gaze up at the hotel in wonder. She’d always loved the palazzo but now it was easily the most beautiful building on the Grand Canal. Theo would not tease her for liking it if he could see this . . . Her chest tightened at the thought of him.
‘This . . . this is the Halfway Hotel?’
‘What were you expecting?’
Something more like the palace prison. ‘Why is it called the Halfway Hotel?’ she asked, reaching for anything she could make sense of.
‘Because it’s halfway along the Grand Canal, of course,’ Rodolfo said. ‘Come on.’ He held the door open for her. Io flew off his shoulders and into the lobby.
Aribella followed the bat, allowing herself a tiny flutter of pleasure at the thought of how furious Gian would be if he knew just where his note in the Lion’s Mouth had got her.
Now that she was no longer in a state of complete shock, Aribella could see that the new lobby was both cosy and elegant, and she loved it. The large reception desk in front of the staircase now had a vase of white roses at either end and rows of golden keys on hooks behind it.
A lady stood behind the desk, her silver-grey hair immaculately coiffed in a bun. She was wearing bright red lipstick and a matching crimson evening gown. She looked very glamorous and Aribella was suddenly acutely aware of her scruffy, damp clothes and the squelch of her boots. The familiar feeling of being out of place tugged at her, and she chewed her lip.
But the lady smiled warmly. ‘Buona sera!’ she called.
Io landed on the reception desk and the lady gave him a little stroke behind one ear.
‘Buona sera, Rosa!’ Rodolfo removed his star mask and bowed. ‘Aribella, meet Rosa, the Halfway Hotel’s key keeper.’
‘I got your message,’ Rosa replied. ‘This must be our new guest. Welcome, Aribella.’
When had Rodol
fo sent a message? Aribella wondered. But then she remembered Rodolfo singing, and her strange sense that it could travel further than seemed possible . . . Had the song been a secret message? The thought made her head spin even more than the lobby’s transformation.
‘What a frightening experience you’ve had tonight. Poor petal,’ Rosa said kindly.
Aribella was not used to kindness, especially from glamorous ladies like Rosa. She smiled back shyly and shuffled her feet.
‘I’m sorry we couldn’t get to you before your father was taken. But we haven’t found a new Cannovacci through the Lion’s Mouth for years. It was quite exciting, wasn’t it, Nymeria?’
Something moved near the foot of the staircase, half hidden by the desk – an enormous golden creature, which yawned and shook out its mane. It was a lion, Aribella realized, an actual lion! Just like the ones on the door handles and the gondola, except for the wings. She’d never seen a lion in real life before.
Rodolfo went over and tickled Nymeria behind the ear, as if the beast was nothing but a house cat. ‘No need to be alarmed, Aribella. Nymeria is here to warn us if Venice should ever be in danger. But she is a gentle soul. Unless you get on her wrong side, of course, much like Rosa here.’
‘Careful, Rodolfo.’ Rosa tutted but her eyes shone.
‘See what I mean?’ Rodolfo winked.
Aribella was still trying to make sense of it all. This hotel had been ruined and now it was beautiful, and there was a key keeper who kept an actual lion as a pet – or companion or whatever it was Rodolfo had called his bat. This was crazy. It was unbelievable.
‘Nymeria is the Lion’s Mouth,’ Rodolfo explained, adding to Aribella’s confusion.
‘Actually she’s the Lioness’s Mouth, even though she does have a mane!’ Rosa interrupted. ‘Men are always taking credit for ladies’ work.’
Rodolfo nodded soberly. ‘I can’t argue with that.’
It seemed to Aribella that they were both rather missing the point. ‘But . . . how? Are you saying this lion – this lioness – is connected to the stone Lion’s Mouth on the wall of the Doge’s palace?’