Mask of Aribella

by Anna Hoghton

  Aribella’s hands opened. With an instinct that surprised her, she caught it squarely between her palms. She’d barely moved at all: it was almost as if the mask hadn’t fallen but jumped . . . But that couldn’t be right.

  The mask was full-faced yet incredibly light. A cloud of dust drifted away as Aribella turned it over to see the face. She recoiled instantly. It was hideously disfigured. There were deep gashes across either cheek, as though someone had deliberately cut into it, and a thin jagged line sliced across from top to bottom. It didn’t look as though it belonged with the rest of the collection at all. Even the most frightening masks on the top shelves had a kind of beauty. This mask was just ugly.

  ‘What are you doing? You’re not to touch the masks!’ The cold fury in the Mask Maker’s voice made Aribella start. She looked up to see him glaring. He seemed even angrier than when he’d caught her looking behind the curtain.

  ‘I didn’t mean to. It fell.’

  ‘Cannovacci masks never fall.’

  It was Aribella’s turn to glare. ‘Of course masks fall . . . This one just did.’ Why was he so angry with her? She’d just saved his mask from breaking. He should be thanking her.

  She tried to hand the mask back but the Mask Maker recoiled. ‘I don’t know what trick you’ve used but if you can hold that mask it is now yours.’

  ‘But I don’t want it. Please take it back.’

  ‘I can’t. It is your mask now.’

  This couldn’t be happening. ‘But it’s not made for me. It won’t work properly.’ Not to mention the fact that it was ugly and horrible. ‘I want a proper one,’ she whispered pathetically. How had she messed this up?

  ‘It makes no difference what you want. Turn the mask over and read the name inside.’

  Aribella did as the Mask Maker said and her stomach dropped. Inside the grey lining a name was being scratched out, already illegible, but above it, in fresh golden writing, another appeared: Aribella.

  Aribella had the sudden, sickening feeling that she was going to cry. She’d been so excited about getting a beautiful mask, one that she could be proud of, like Seffie’s. A mask that belonged to her, that would make her fit in at the Halfway and let her sneak off to visit Papa and Theo. This ugly second-hand mask wouldn’t do. And what if it didn’t work?

  ‘Please,’ she begged. ‘I need one like everyone else’s.’

  The Mask Maker looked at her squarely. ‘Yes, I saw that in the mirror – that desperation to fit in. Tell me, why are you so determined to be like everyone else when what makes you different is your strength? True power comes when we let go of false masks and accept ourselves as we truly are.’

  And with that, the Mask Maker shoved Aribella out his shop and slammed the door.

  The sunlight was harsh and blinding after the gloom.

  ‘Mask Maker,’ Ursula called out, hurrying up the jetty. ‘I wondered if I could ask—?’ She pushed the door but it did not budge. ‘Oh dear, I suppose not . . . Why do you look so sad, Aribella?’

  ‘It’s nothing,’ Aribella said firmly. But when she looked up at Ursula’s beautiful mask she could feel hot tears springing to her eyes.

  She jumped into the gondola and hid inside the cabin, shoving the hideous mask under a cushion. What would she tell Seffie when she asked about the mask? Aribella never wanted to show it to anyone. It felt like a symbol of her failure, her inability to fit in – even in a hotel full of misfits. If she didn’t belong with them, then where did that leave her?

  Aribella suddenly felt so lonely. She longed to confide in someone – someone who really knew her, who could understand and comfort her. But who could she talk to? Papa was in prison, and it had been a long time since he’d been able to comfort her anyway. Her best friend Theo probably feared her now. Rodolfo and Rosa still felt like strangers, and while Seffie was kind, she probably wouldn’t want to be Aribella’s friend when she saw the mask.

  No, Aribella knew whom her soul longed for. It was the deepest and most painful longing of all, one she had tried always to suppress for fear of getting lost in it and drowning. But now, as Ursula rowed them quietly back to the Halfway – kindly not asking questions or reading her mind – Aribella allowed herself to long for her mama.

  The following week passed surprisingly quickly. Aribella had expected it to drag but, despite all her worries over Papa and her hideous mask, she enjoyed her time at the Halfway. It was hard not to, when she ate pastries for breakfast and clam spaghetti for dinner, slept on feather pillows and silk sheets at night, and had friends like Seffie who was the best company Aribella could have asked for. Rosa had returned her old clothes – cleanly laundered, mended and folded – but Aribella couldn’t face wearing them around the elegant hotel so had shoved them deep in the back of her wardrobe and chose a new dress every day.

  The one part of hotel life Aribella dreaded was her training.

  Following her disastrous fitting, she’d arrived back at the Halfway to discover that a new training room had appeared on the second floor with a fire symbol on the door and steel, flame-retardant walls inside. This was temporarily exciting, until Aribella discovered that her new mask was not only ugly and embarrassing but did not seem to help control her power at all. Seffie and Fin had both been very kind when they’d seen the mask but she could tell they’d been shocked; Seffie’s feathery mask was so beautiful, while Fin’s – a vivid fuchsia mask, with opals and amethysts swirling across the cheeks, and a headdress of gold leaf – was gloriously bright. Rodolfo had also seemed surprised but insisted that it would work, and offered to help with her training.

  ‘It is still a Cannovacci mask,’ he repeated during her sessions, as Aribella tried and failed once more to make the flames appear on command. ‘It is your mask.’

  ‘The Mask Maker didn’t give it to me,’ Aribella repeated. ‘I told you, it fell. He didn’t seem happy about it.’

  ‘It is still yours.’

  ‘Because of my name inside it?’

  ‘Not just that. Here.’ Rodolfo took off his starry mask and held it out to her. ‘Try to take it.’

  Aribella stared at the beautiful mask and felt strangely reluctant. She thought she was just being silly until she reached out and touched it.

  ‘Ouch!’ It was as if she had been stung by a bee.

  ‘Sorry, it was just easier to show you than to explain.’

  ‘You could have tried explaining first!’

  ‘Now, imagine trying to wear my mask. There’s no way you could without your entire face blistering. So you see, if you can wear that mask then it’s yours. Now let go of your doubts and believe.’

  She often left training feeling worse than when she started.

  At night, she rubbed a balm Marquesa had given her into her sore fingers. They seemed to be constantly in pain these days for, while the power wouldn’t come when she wanted it to in training, it still came when she didn’t want it to – twice during breakfast, once setting the edge of Rodolfo’s star cloak alight, once when she was having a nightmare about the spectre – and it hurt. Rosa left buckets of water beside her bed and said it didn’t matter but, as Aribella bundled up the singed sheets and tablecloths, she felt ashamed.

  News reached the Halfway that the Doge’s health had taken another turn for the worst, and he was missing more State occasions than ever. Aribella desperately hoped for his recovery and that his illness wouldn’t mean Rodolfo couldn’t meet him to discuss Papa’s release. It should be any day now.

  Not only that, the water was higher than ever and the banks of the Grand Canal were overflowing. Whole sections of the city were now underwater, according to Seffie who had been brought news by the birds. Could it be connected to what had happened at the blood moon? There had been no more news of spectres and that was a relief. Still, she worried about Theo constantly: was he all right? Did he miss her? Was Gian being kinder to him now she was no longer there? She’d looked out of her window every morning since she’d arrived at the Halfway, but she ha
dn’t seen his papa’s boat yet. Aribella wondered if the fishing families were still struggling to catch fish.

  She was distracted from her worries by Seffie, who wanted to play endless games of hide-and-seek. Fin would join in whenever he wasn’t in the reading room, and sometimes Julietta and Bruno would play too, although they were a little older so mostly spent time with each other. Fin liked hide-and-seek as his ability to walk through walls made him hard to beat, but Seffie would often get Nymeria or Io to tell her where he had gone. Helena would sometimes catch Fin appearing through a wall, or Seffie growling at Nymeria, and threaten to tell the Elders, though she never actually did. Aribella still had no idea what Helena’s power really was. Fin said he thought it was something to do with mind control, while Seffie swore it was just ‘being annoying’.

  The night before Rodolfo’s meeting with the Doge Aribella fell into a fitful sleep and dreamt about the curtain at the Mask Maker’s shop. In the dream, it billowed ahead of her, drawing her to it. A sound was coming from the other side, a voice . . . Was it Theo’s? Someone was calling her name. She was just about to wrench the curtain back when something woke her. Luna was pawing her face.

  The cat had been returning to Aribella’s room most evenings via the balcony, and Aribella was grateful for the reminder of Burano. ‘Ouch, get off, you silly thing.’ She reached up to pull the cat into her arms, but Luna jumped off the bed and started to paw at the window.

  Foggy-headed, Aribella crawled out of bed. Luna didn’t usually ask to be let out until Aribella went down to breakfast. It was very early still, and the light outside was grey.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, expecting to see a mouse or bird on her balcony. But there was nothing. ‘Why have you woken me so early?’

  Luna meowed.

  Curious, Aribella pulled open the glass doors, shivering as the cold air froze her bare toes. She was about to retreat back inside and fetch her slippers when she heard a swish of oars and a voice she recognized.

  ‘Theo, we’ve been over this.’

  Theo and his papa!

  Nervously, Aribella hugged her arms round herself and crept to the balcony’s edge, knowing the hotel would make her unwatchable. Luna followed her, curling around Aribella’s cold feet, warming them. Aribella ducked down and peered between the railings. Her heart leapt – there he was! Standing on his papa’s boat, looking the same as always, his scruffy clothes flapping in the breeze, his curly hair flopping messily into his eyes. How good it was to see him! She wanted to shout out a greeting. But was she allowed? What would she say? And if Theo looked up, it would be like hearing a ghost. It was safer to keep quiet, though it hurt to do so.

  Theo seemed uncharacteristically agitated. There weren’t many other boats around at this time so his words carried clearly. It didn’t take her long to realize, with a small tug on her heart, that he was talking about her.

  ‘You don’t really believe all they’re saying, do you? We’re still struggling to catch fish and now we’re getting this flooding too. If Aribella was the cause—’

  ‘Don’t know, son. Some folk think the water’s going down.’

  ‘Well, it’s not. And the fish are still gone. If Aribella was the reason, and she’s been put in prison, how do you explain that?’

  ‘I don’t know, Theo. But there’s lots being said about what she did at the market.’

  Aribella felt a flush of shame. Her fingers tingled and she quickly clenched her fists. Luna pressed herself closer to Aribella’s feet.

  ‘You think she’s a witch, don’t you, Pa? You’re just a superstitious sucker like the rest of them.’

  ‘Watch your tongue, and keep your voice down. I don’t know what I think.’

  ‘Well, I do. She’s my friend.’

  Their boat drifted under the Rialto Bridge and the rest of Theo’s words were lost. The Grand Canal was empty again. Aribella felt empty too. Even though she knew she should have anticipated Theo’s papa’s words, they still felt like blows. He’d always been so kind. Now it seemed he distrusted her too, like all the other fishing folk.

  And poor loyal Theo thought she was locked up and suffering. It wasn’t fair on him. She had to let him know she was all right. She looked back into her bedroom and her gaze fell upon the empty eyes of her hideous mask. There was no more time to waste on doubts.

  Second-hand and ugly or not, she was going to make it work.

  Aribella dressed quickly and slipped out into the corridor. There was still an hour before breakfast and the hotel was quiet, apart from the faint swish of oars on canals, and snores coming from behind bedroom doors. There was some odd quality to the quiet, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was.

  She hurried down to her fireproof training room on the second floor, crept in and closed the door softly. She put on the mask and tied the ribbons. As usual, it felt hot and uncomfortable. Her warped reflection looked back at her in the four steel walls. She immediately felt as hopeless as always. But then she thought of Theo and Papa, and knew she had to keep trying.

  She thought of all Rodolfo had taught her and all that the Mask Maker had said. She remembered the warm feeling she’d had looking in the mirror at the Mask Maker’s shop. She met her own gaze and tried to summon this feeling once more. She tried to think of the good fire could do – that it could cook and warm and guide someone home on a dark night. She tried to like her power, to understand that it was hers and hers alone. At first, her attempts felt useless, but then – as she practised – a surge of heat thrummed through her. It was not the sudden snap of heat that heralded the flames but a warm glow that spread down her arms and into her hands, making her feel powerful and strong.

  Her fingers started to tingle and she looked down at her hands. A surge of pure joy went through her. Flames danced across both her palms, as they had in the shop – only this time they weren’t just in her reflection. This was real. There was no pain, no fear. Instead, the flames felt like old friends – familiar, as if they were part of her and always had been.

  Aribella had no idea how long she stayed there, holding fire in her palms: it could have been minutes or hours. Eventually she closed her hands and the flames extinguished. She stepped back, panting. Her fingers did not hurt . . . She’d done it. She’d actually done it! She’d summoned her power.

  The mask vibrated against her skin, almost happily, as if it was purring.

  Triumphantly, Aribella untied the ribbons of the mask and pulled it off more carefully than usual, no longer detesting it as much. She turned the mask over and looked at the scratched-out name under her own, trying to work out what it said, but it was no good. She looked at her own name. It didn’t matter whose mask this had been, it was hers now, she told herself, starting to believe it could be true.

  When she crept back out into the hallway, she was met by the delicious smell of cooked garlic and heard the murmur of voices coming from the floor below. She realized everyone must be in the dining room for lunch. Was it that late already? With a rumbling tummy, and still reeling from her success, Aribella hurried towards the stairs. She couldn’t wait to tell Seffie and Fin about her morning.

  A voice from behind one of the training doors made her stop.

  ‘Almost . . .’ It was Helena’s voice.

  The door was ajar. Aribella peeped through. Helena must have decided to put in some extra practice too.

  The room had been set up like a classroom, with a blackboard, chairs and desks, and four clocks, one on each wall. Helena was watching one of the clocks. Her spiky hair stuck up behind a full-faced copper mask that was covered in hundreds of small cogs. She did not seem to be doing anything at all.

  For several minutes, Aribella watched as Helena remained in the same position, still staring at the hands of the clock. Aribella started to get bored, until she noticed that a vase of flowers had moved from one end of the room to the other. She blinked. The next second a line of writing appeared on the blackboard. Had Helena done that? Fin thought her po
wer was connected to mind control. Maybe she had the same power as Rosa and could make things appear out of nowhere. But why would she hide that? Wait. Now Helena was at the other end of the room. How had that happened? Julietta was the one with speed.

  The next second Helena appeared by the door . . .

  Quickly, Aribella ducked behind a large statue. It was a tight squeeze, and something sharp dug into her shoulder. A portrait frame was sharing her hiding place.

  She waited, heart racing, until Helena had passed safely by and her footsteps had faded. Then she shuffled out, and turned back to pull out the portrait. The subject was a lady with long dark hair, wearing a green dress that matched her eyes. Her glittering mask was covered in flowers, birds and silver fish. The plaque underneath read: Clara.

  Aribella started, remembering the conversation between Rodolfo and Jacapo in the lounge that first morning. Clara! So this was Zio’s murderer. That explained why her portrait had been removed from the walls. Why hadn’t it been destroyed though?

  Hearing more footsteps, Aribella slid the portrait back into its hiding place, and hurried to the dining room.

  She found Seffie and Fin at a table of their own. Bruno and Julietta were sitting together on another table. Helena was nowhere to be seen. Some of the Elders were there – Ursula, Marquesa – but Rodolfo was absent. She hurried across to the buffet table and helped herself to a large plate of risotto.

  Seffie raised an eyebrow at Aribella as she sat down. ‘Where’ve you been?’

  ‘Practising,’ she replied. Between mouthfuls of hot, creamy risotto, she told them about her morning.

  ‘Well done, Aribella!’ Fin said, clapping her on the back and looking impressed.

  ‘Yes, well done, Ari,’ Seffie agreed. But she seemed distracted and not nearly as happy about her news as Aribella had expected her to be. Aribella gave Fin an enquiring look.