by Anna Hoghton
She was right. Bathing suits and towels were laid out ready for them to use and it was great fun splashing around in the mosaicked pool. Seffie was a great swimmer. Aribella didn’t have a mask so she couldn’t breathe underwater for long but she watched in awe as Seffie put on her mask and didn’t resurface for almost ten minutes. The sooner she could get her own mask the better.
After an hour, Aribella and Seffie, with fingers like pickled cucumbers, emerged back into the lobby. Their hair dripped with water and they were wearing matching grins.
Rosa called out, ‘Oh, there you are, Aribella. The meeting’s finally over – Rodolfo will be out in a minute to talk to you. In the meantime, here’s something for you.’
She handed Aribella a thick white envelope. On the front, Aribella’s name was written in swirling gold ink. Aribella had never had a letter addressed to her before, let alone one that looked as exciting as this. She turned the envelope over and examined the mask stamped into the purple wax seal. Her heart skipped.
‘Go on, open it!’ Seffie urged, bouncing up and down. There was a gleam in her eyes.
Eagerly, Aribella prised open the seal and read the card inside:
Dear Aribella,
You are cordially invited to your mask fitting.
Please be prompt.
Tardiness is not tolerated.
Distinti saluti,
The Mask Maker
Aribella’s stomach swooped with joy. She couldn’t believe it. She was getting a mask, a mask made just for her. A mask that would make her unwatchable and help her control her power and breathe underwater, and so many other marvellous things.
She read the letter again and frowned. ‘It doesn’t say when the fitting is.’
‘That’s because it’s now,’ Rosa announced cheerily. ‘Are you ready to go?’
‘Wh-what?’ Aribella didn’t feel at all prepared to have the fitting right this minute.
‘He’s like that, I’m afraid, sweetie.’ Rosa turned the corners of her mouth down apologetically. ‘Oh, don’t look so worried, you’ll be fine. Rodolfo said he’d take you. Do you have your room key there? You have to hand it in whenever you leave the hotel, remember.’
Aribella nodded, dimly recalling that this was one of the rules from Rosa’s list. She pulled the heavy gold key out of her pocket. At least it meant she wouldn’t lose it.
Rosa took the key and hung it back on a hook. Her fingers lingered on it for a moment, as they had when she’d first selected it, and Aribella wondered if there was something about the room that was bothering her.
Rodolfo emerged from the lounge with a tension to his jaw.
‘Good news,’ he said, though he didn’t seem to fully believe this. ‘I’m to have an audience with the Doge at the end of next week, so I can ask about your papa then.’
‘Next week?’ Aribella was unable to hide her disappointment. A week was too long for Papa to spend alone in a prison cell.
‘I’m sorry, Aribella, I really am. If it was up to me . . .’ Rodolfo shook his head. ‘But it’s the best that can be done for the time being. The Elders are very firm on Inbellis matters. Everything must be done the proper way.’
‘Rodolfo did all he could,’ Rosa added. ‘Honestly, Aribella. A week isn’t that long – relatively speaking,’ she added quickly, seeing Aribella’s mouth opening to protest.
Aribella fell silent, trying to quell her frustration. She felt so guilty for being in this luxurious hotel, receiving gifts, when he was locked up.
‘We’re going to get him out,’ Rodolfo said firmly. ‘That’s the main thing. For now, try to put it from your mind. Concentrate on your fitting. I will take care of your papa.’
Aribella knew it was good advice. Maybe once she got her mask she could sneak into the prison to visit Papa. She could even take him some pastries.
‘Jacapo has suggested I take her, Rodolfo,’ said Ursula, appearing from the lounge behind him. ‘He says you’ve got enough on your plate, what with all the star readings.’
Rodolfo frowned. ‘Surely you need to rest, Ursula? You’re the one who fainted.’
‘Oh, I was just a little shocked. Don’t know what came over me. Always been a little . . . squeamish. Anyway, the fresh air will do me good and I’d love to get to know our new guest.’ Ursula smiled brightly. Her pale blue gown matched her eyes. It had a white fur collar that Seffie was staring at angrily.
As Aribella met Ursula’s gaze, she felt a nudging in her head. It was an unsettling sensation, as if someone was poking around in her mind.
‘Oh, you’re so worried about your papa,’ Ursula said. ‘But you mustn’t be. Rodolfo will soon make sure he’s safe.’
Aribella blinked in surprise. How had Ursula known? Was it that obvious?
‘And Seffie, you can stop wishing me death threats over the fur – it’s an heirloom.’
Rosa frowned. ‘Ursula, you’re not supposed to read the minds of Novices without their permission . . .’
So that explained the nudging feeling. Ursula was a mind-reader.
‘Sorry, sorry. A bad habit.’ Ursula turned to Rodolfo and the nudging stopped.
Rodolfo laughed. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to read my mind either, Ursula.’
‘If only I could. I might have stopped you getting in trouble last night. But you’ve always been good at blocking me, Rodolfo.’ Ursula sighed and turned to check her hair in a mirror.
‘It’s not as easy now I’m getting older.’
‘Aren’t we all?’ Ursula gazed at her reflection and winced. ‘Time is so cruel. Well, we’d better get a move on, Aribella. The Mask Maker values punctuality. And as he only sees people with an appointment, we don’t want to risk missing your slot.’
Aribella hesitated. She wanted Rodolfo to take her, but Rodolfo did look tired and it was kind of Ursula to offer – just so long as she didn’t try to read Aribella’s mind again. Anyway, it didn’t seem as if she had much of a choice.
‘I’ll meet you later,’ Seffie whispered. ‘Can’t wait to see what mask you get.’
Aribella nodded, smiling nervously.
Ursula put on her mask at the entrance doors. It was a half-mask with a mirror-like surface and a series of rings that crossed at different angles and met at the centre of the forehead where there was a painted eye. Aribella watched, carefully noting how Ursula tied the black ribbons, in case there was some knack to it that she might be tested on later.
‘You’ll have your own one soon enough,’ Ursula said, pushing the doors open.
They stepped into the crisp autumn day. Ursula’s heeled shoes clicked as she crossed the jetty to one of the striped mooring posts. Ropes were tied round the post, trailing into the water. Ursula grabbed hold of one rope, wrinkling her nose.
‘I wish there was another way to do this,’ she muttered. Then humming a tune Aribella half recognized, she tugged on the rope.
Instantly, the water below the post churned and a black gondola emerged. Aribella remembered how Rodolfo’s gondola had sunk into the canal last night and thought at first that this gondola might be the same one. But while it had the same winged lion emblem painted on it, this gondola had both cushioned benches and an elegant-looking central cabin. Silver swirls were painted over its hull and there were pink cushions everywhere. The gondola shook off the last of the glittering water droplets and when it finally rested on the surface it was bone-dry.
Ursula laughed and Aribella realized that nudging feeling in her head was happening again. She blushed.
‘Oh, don’t be embarrassed. It’s fun seeing it all again through your eyes. I remember when I first arrived at the Halfway. Everything was amazing for me then too. Age makes you so jaded . . . One of its many perils.’ She sighed. ‘Anyway, get in, get in!’
Aribella climbed aboard awkwardly. She decided not to use the cabin and opted instead for the front bench so she could get a good view and feel the air on her face.
Ursula untied the mooring rope and pu
shed the gondola away from the jetty. Aribella wondered if it would go as fast as Rodolfo’s, but it quickly became obvious that wasn’t going to happen.
The Grand Canal was busy, and although Ursula’s mask made them unwatchable, they had to move slowly to avoid bumping other boats and giving the people on board a shock. The gondola bucked and jolted, as if it found the slow pace tedious.
Aribella’s thoughts drifted between Papa and Theo. What were they both doing now? Were they thinking of her? As soon as she got the mask she’d visit them, she promised herself, Elders’ permission or not. She glanced nervously back at Ursula, hoping she hadn’t read this thought.
The gondola soon turned off the Grand Canal on to a smaller canal lined with colourful mask shops. Aribella and Theo had once idled away an afternoon rowing past these shops, stopping to pick out their favourite masks from the jaunty arrangements in their windows, knowing they’d never even be able to afford even the ribbons. But here Aribella was now, about to get a beautiful mask of her own . . . A fresh bubble of excitement rose in her chest. She made a game of guessing which shop belonged to the Cannovacci Mask Maker. But while all the masks in the windows would have impressed Aribella yesterday, today they looked flat and plain compared with the masks she’d seen at the Halfway Hotel. Indeed, Ursula skulled past all these shops without giving them a second glance.
Instead, she headed directly towards another side canal. This one was so narrow that it seemed impossible the gondola would be able to turn on to it, but the elegant craft skimmed round the bend without pause or bump.
The canal was dark and cold, and there did not seem to be any shops here at all, just dingy houses with boarded-up windows. Perhaps Ursula had made a wrong turn? Remembering the Halfway’s transformation, Aribella tried to reserve judgement. Maybe these houses changed too once you were inside. But it was hard to believe. The Halfway, though it had appeared dilapidated, had always had a charm that Aribella had been drawn to. These houses just made her feel afraid.
Ursula stopped the gondola outside the most rundown house of all. The windows were painted black, and so was the door. Aribella noticed two grey ovals painted in the centre of the door, like eyeholes, and the symbol of the winged lion underneath.
‘You have to go in alone,’ Ursula said. ‘I’ll be here when you’re done.’
Aribella nodded and swallowed. Ursula wouldn’t need to read her mind to know she was dreading it. She tried to pull herself together, and stepped out of the gondola on to the jetty. Would she be asked to demonstrate her power? She hoped not, her fingers were still sore from this morning’s mishap at breakfast. What if she tried to use it and it got out of control? What would the Mask Maker think if she accidentally burnt down his shop?
‘You’ll be fine,’ Ursula said. ‘Go on.’
Steeling herself, Aribella knocked tentatively.
There was no reply. She felt a flutter of both relief and disappointment. Maybe he wasn’t in and she’d have to come back another day . . . She glanced back at Ursula, who just nodded and waved Aribella on.
Aribella took a deep breath, turned to the door again and pushed it open, blinking into the gloom beyond.
‘Hello?’ she called. The room inside was dimly lit and filled with incense. She stepped in and the door closed softly behind her. Aribella tried to keep her breathing steady. Slowly her eyes adjusted. Shelves covered the walls, filled with rows of masks. This display was nothing like the merry mess in the windows of other mask shops. These masks were propped up delicately on stands, carefully arranged, and each looked as exquisitely made as any at the Halfway. These were Cannovacci masks.
Aribella gazed up at a hundred silent faces in awe. On a lower shelf was a mask covered in butterfly wings. Next to it, another had a crown made from golden feathers that couldn’t have come from any bird in Venice. The higher the shelf, the more extravagant and strange the masks became. On the top shelf, only just visible in the darkness, was a mask made of razor clams next to another with steel slits for eyes and a cruel grate over the mouth. Aribella shivered. What powers were connected to those masks? There was something eerie about the way the masks seemed to watch her. A bone-white beaked mask in the corner gave her a particularly odd feeling . . .
In the middle of the room was an age-spotted mirror. Its patina was almost entirely clouded. On the brass stand next to the mirror several odd-looking instruments had been laid out. Aribella was just about to examine them when she noticed that the wall behind the mirror wasn’t really a wall but a black curtain.
Her first thought was that the Mask Maker must be on the other side. But as she moved over and pulled the heavy curtain back, she had another sensation. As if she’d seen the curtain before, in a dream perhaps . . . But that couldn’t be right. On the other side was a small room that was entirely empty, except for an empty mask stand.
‘No one is to go into the bonding area without permission,’ boomed a voice.
Aribella dropped the curtain as if it were red-hot, spinning round to see the beaked white mask flying across the room. Her mind flashed back to the spectre and she nearly jumped out of her skin – then she saw that the mask had a cloaked body attached to it, a body that, until now, she’d mistaken for shadows.
‘You’re lucky there wasn’t a mask in there,’ the white-beaked man continued crossly, ‘or you’d have ruined the whole process. A new mask must be seen by no one but its future wearer and the Mask Maker during the first hours of its creation.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Aribella stammered. ‘I was just wondering where you were. I’m Aribella. You invited me.’ She pulled her card out of her pocket defensively.
‘Yes, yes. The new girl.’ The Mask Maker waved one hand as if he was already bored. He barely looked at her. ‘Tell me, girl, what do you think of my masks?’
Worried this was a test, Aribella hesitated, searching for the right word to sum up the strange mix of feelings the masks gave her, one that wouldn’t offend the Mask Maker. What did she feel? Awe? Fear?
Thankfully, the Mask Maker seemed to think speechlessness an appropriate response. ‘It’s the finest collection there is,’ he said proudly.
‘Whose are they?’
‘Mine now. They were once the masks of Cannovacci. But just as our bodies return to the star dust that formed us, all masks return to the Maker in the end.’
Aribella shivered. So, it wasn’t a gallery, it was a mausoleum. The thought made her feel strange, as if she was looking at the faces of the dead.
‘Did you – did you make them all?’
‘Of course not. How old do you think I am? Some of these masks are centuries old. They are the work of previous Mask Makers and their apprentices.’
‘Who’s your apprentice?’ Aribella asked. Was it a Novice at the Halfway? she wondered. Or perhaps an Elder?
‘I do not have one currently. The one I had . . . disappeared,’ the Mask Maker said in a thin voice. ‘Most . . . unfortunate,’ he added, and Aribella got the unsettling feeling that his words brushed over some secret. He gave her a hard stare, almost as if he was seeing her for the first time then appeared to come to a decision. ‘We must not waste time thinking of the past. What is done is done. Let us see what you can do.’
Without warning, the Mask Maker grabbed Aribella’s arm. His fingers were like icicles, and it took everything Aribella had not to pull away, especially when he dragged her to the brass stand and picked up one of the strange-looking instruments. It was like a measuring compass, with two sharp prongs connected by a hinge. She tried not to wince as he placed the instrument against her forehead and adjusted it. The ends were sharp.
‘Do not move.’
Aribella stayed absolutely still as he measured her forehead, the distance between her eyes, the length of her nose, mouth, ears . . . He even measured the distance between her nostrils, which made her want to sneeze. It was extremely difficult not to flinch, especially with the Mask Maker peering down his beak at her. After each measurement, he held
the prongs against a ruler and noted the numbers in a small black notebook.
Finally, he snapped the instrument closed. ‘Stand in front of the mirror.’
Aribella wondered what looking in the clouded glass would show the Mask Maker that he couldn’t already see, but she did as he said.
As soon as she stepped before the mirror, however, the patina cleared and flames swirled where Aribella’s reflection ought to be. Aribella tried to step away, but the Mask Maker held her shoulders firmly, watching intently as Aribella’s outline appeared in the mirror beneath the flames. The flames reformed and centred around her hands, and a sudden feeling of warmth rose inside Aribella, dissolving all her doubts and fears. She felt powerful, strong. For a moment, she felt as if she was exactly where she belonged.
Then the Mask Maker pulled her away from the mirror. The flames disappeared and the glass clouded over once more. Aribella tried to hold on to the edges of the feeling that had passed through her, but it ebbed as rapidly as it had arrived.
For the first time, the Mask Maker seemed excited. ‘The mirror shows what’s hidden inside us, an inner strength or perhaps a weakness that we’re afraid to claim,’ he explained. ‘In your case it is a strength, a great strength. We have not had a fire Cannovacci for centuries. And so strong already . . .’
He started moving around the room, pulling boxes out from the bottom shelves that were full of all sorts of things: feathers, pieces of silk, buttons . . . and stranger things too. One box contained crystal monocles, another nothing but teeth. The Mask Maker held up a bronze disc and a dead beetle.
‘It will be difficult to craft something good enough,’ he continued, examining them, ‘but there is nothing I love more than a challenge.’
Out of the corner of her eye, Aribella caught a flicker in the top corner of the room – way up on the highest shelf, like a bat or a bird fluttering its wings. Io? But it wasn’t either of those things – it was something dark and curved. A mask. And it wasn’t fluttering, it was falling now, hurtling past the shelves . . .