Mask of Aribella

by Anna Hoghton

  Fin just shrugged. ‘Dessert fixes most things. Back in a minute.’ He went to the buffet table.

  ‘Seffie, what’s wrong?’ Aribella asked gently.

  Seffie’s lip trembled. ‘It’s the birds!’ she said, bursting into tears. ‘They’ve g-gone.’

  ‘What? Where?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Seffie wailed. ‘They didn’t tell me. They didn’t even say goodbye! This morning, I tried to call to some of them on the roof but none replied. I’ve looked for them everywhere but all their nests are empty. They’ve just vanished.’

  Aribella thought back to the odd quietness this morning and suddenly understood what had been missing. There’d been no birdsong.

  Fin returned to their table and passed round three generous slices of cherry tart.

  ‘I heard Theo on the Grand Canal this morning,’ Aribella said. ‘He says the flooding is getting worse.’

  Seffie rubbed her eyes. ‘Even during acqua alta it’s not this bad.’

  ‘It’s strange that the fish have gone too.’

  Seffie sat up. ‘Really?’

  Aribella nodded. ‘They’ve been scarce for months.’

  ‘Do you think it’s connected?’ Fin asked thoughtfully, his spoonful of tart paused in mid-air.

  ‘It could be. I don’t know . . .’ Aribella admitted. But she had a very bad feeling. ‘What about the blood moon?’ she said hesitantly.

  Silence followed her words.

  ‘Rodolfo said that the blood moon signalled that the boundary between the worlds of living and the dead is weak,’ she went on.

  She had told Seffie and Fin what had happened to her, and what had been said in that first meeting with the Elders. But as nothing further had happened on the lagoon, the Elders seemed to have relaxed. Was that a mistake?

  ‘The books in the reading room might be useful,’ Fin mused. ‘I’ll check.’ He got up and left, still clutching his spoon of uneaten tart.

  Aribella and Seffie hadn’t touched their tarts either.

  ‘Should we tell the Elders?’ Aribella whispered, glancing towards their table. ‘Do you think they know already?’

  ‘We should talk to Rodolfo,’ said Seffie. ‘He’s the only one who seems to care.’

  ‘He might have seen something about it in the stars too,’ Aribella agreed. ‘In any case, we have to warn the islanders that the lagoon might not be safe. And if the flooding continues the whole of Venice will soon be underwater – Burano too.’

  Aribella and Seffie headed to the roof to find Rodolfo. However, as they reached the landing of the third floor they heard voices from the landing above. It was Jacapo and Rodolfo.

  ‘How many times must I remind you that it is forbidden to interfere in the affairs in the Inbellis without approval of the council, Rodolfo?’ boomed Jacapo.

  ‘I’m not a Novice, Jacapo,’ Rodolfo replied, ‘so please do not talk to me like one.’

  ‘I’ll stop talking to you like a Novice when you stop acting like one.’

  ‘What difference does it really make if I visit the poor man or not, Jacapo? I’m assuming you know because of Ursula,’ Rodolfo went on, ‘which accounts for the awful headaches I’ve been having lately. Isn’t that against Cannovacci rules?’

  ‘She’s acting in everyone’s best interests, Rodolfo—’

  ‘“Everyone” being who exactly?’

  ‘Venice, of course.’

  ‘Venice’s best interests?’ Rodolfo spat, and for the first time it sounded like he was losing his temper. ‘An innocent man is in prison, alone and afraid, and you will do nothing to help. The water is rising and you continue to ignore it. There is a spectre on the lagoon, a spectre that attacked an islander and a Novice, and you ignore that too. And this morning there are no birds – and still you act as if nothing is wrong. Our duty is to protect Venice – Cannovacci, Inbellis and animals included. Not to hide in a palazzo with our heads in the sand.’

  ‘We are meant to maintain an appropriate distance.’

  ‘The boundary between worlds is under threat – when will you start listening? Another blood moon is coming, Jacapo. Soon. I have seen it. And when it does, the Island of the Dead will rise and darkness will come for us all unless someone stops it.’

  ‘We have just had a blood moon and there was no darkness, just one spectre, or so you and your new Novice would have us believe—’

  ‘Just one that night,’ Rodolfo cut in. ‘But the next time there could be hundreds.’

  ‘Hundreds? Come on, Rodolfo,’ Jacapo said. ‘The boundary can’t be destroyed to that degree. Who would be capable of that?’

  ‘You both know who I think is behind this,’ Rodolfo replied coolly.

  ‘I will not have any more of this slander. Zio was murdered!’’ Jacapo roared. ‘By Clara!’

  ‘The evidence is not conclusive—’

  ‘That is enough. It’s time you put the Cannovacci first, Rodolfo.’ Jacapo’s voice shook with fury. ‘You are breaking the sacred oath. I shall call an emergency meeting of the Elders to see that you are forbidden from leaving the hotel, and if you disobey I shall suggest you are checked-out from Halfway and your mask seized!’

  Aribella’s stomach dropped. Next to her, Seffie cursed quietly.

  ‘You cannot leave Venice so vulnerable.’ Rodolfo’s voice had risen.

  ‘I’m protecting Venice. From you! Your lack of judgement may cause the city and the Cannovacci great harm. It is clear we can no longer trust you. If you leave the hotel again, I will see to it that you are checked-out before tomorrow.’

  Heavy footsteps stomped down the stairs towards Aribella and Seffie. They quickly hid round the corner as Jacapo strode past, more red-faced than ever.

  Once he had disappeared, Aribella and Seffie hurried upstairs and found Rodolfo still on the landing, deep in thought.

  ‘Rodolfo,’ Aribella called.

  He blinked as if coming back to the present. ‘Aribella, Seffie, why are you—?’

  ‘We heard everything,’ Aribella blurted. ‘Can you really not visit the Doge?’

  Rodolfo shook his head grimly. ‘Jacapo will have the rule of the council behind him. He’ll be seeing to that now.’ His blue eyes were full of apology. ‘I’m sorry, Aribella.’

  ‘Can’t you just make yourself unwatchable and go anyway?’ said Seffie.

  Rodolfo shook his head. ‘Not now. I can’t risk losing my mask. I need to read the stars more than ever.’

  Aribella swallowed the lump in her throat and shook her head. ‘It’s my fault. I asked you to help.’ Tears of frustration sprang to her eyes.

  Rodolfo looked back at her so kindly. His eyes were shining strangely. ‘I wish I could think of a way to send someone to the palace in my place,’ he murmured, ‘but no other Elders will go. I’ve always thought younger voices were better heard anyway. And I’ve always given permission for anyone to take my gondola as long as their intentions are good. Maybe that person, or persons,’ he added pointedly, looking from Aribella to Seffie, ‘could inform the Doge about the possible dangers on the lagoon too, so that he could warn the Inbellis islanders not to be on the lagoon at night . . . Here.’

  He reached into the pocket of his cloak and pulled out a tiny wooden gondola, no bigger than his palm. He handed it to Aribella.

  ‘What’s this?’ Aribella asked, looking down at the beautiful little craft. It was an exact replica of Rodolfo’s gondola in miniature. Every detail was perfect, from the ferro to the oarlock, from the threadbare cushions to the symbol of the winged lion on its hull.

  Seffie’s eyes were wide. ‘It’s his permesso. It means you can use his gondola. But Signore, I thought Novices weren’t allowed to use the gondolas?’

  ‘Since when have you cared for rules, Persephone?’ Rodolfo said. ‘Sometimes they must be broken, if the reason is important enough.’ He sighed and looked at Aribella intently. ‘Please believe that whatever happens, you must trust me. And above all, trust yourself.’

  ‘Wha
t’s that mean?’ Seffie whispered, as Rodolfo turned away, heading towards the roof.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Aribella frowned. ‘Do you think Jacapo will really exile Rodolfo from the hotel?’

  Seffie shook her head. ‘Let’s hope Rodolfo can persuade the other Elders to support him.’ She nodded towards the little gondola Aribella held in her hands. ‘But right now, we’ve got a journey to make. Let’s go!’

  ‘It’s all very well Rodolfo giving us his permesso,’ Seffie puffed, pulling the mooring rope, ‘but what use is that if he doesn’t tell us how to get the gondola out of the canal?’

  Aribella rubbed her mask to hide her own frustration. It was hot and annoying but she didn’t dare remove it in case it made her visible to passing barges. They’d been out on the jetty for ages, taking it in turns to tug on Rodolfo’s mooring rope, while the other person watched the windows, in case an Elder looked out. Luna was lying near the hotel entrance, one eye open.

  ‘Oh, lovely rope,’ said Seffie, ‘please, please, pretty please – MOVE!’ She heaved, but nothing happened and she lost her grip, almost tumbling into the canal. ‘That’s it. I’m getting Bruno. If he can’t pull the gondola out, no one can.’

  ‘No, Seffie, the fewer people who know the better,’ Aribella said. ‘I don’t think it’s about strength. Ursula didn’t have to try very hard. There must be something else we’re meant to do . . .’ There was a sound like a pair of leather gloves flapping and a small black shape flitted across her vision. Io landed on the mooring post, curling his wings round his little body.

  ‘Io!’ Seffie exclaimed happily. ‘Rodolfo must have sent him to help us.’ She started making clicking sounds. To Aribella, she explained, ‘Bats make sounds that are two or three times higher than humans can hear, so all you’ll hear is clicks. It’s really difficult to master and I’m not quite there yet, but hopefully I can understand.’

  Io made a few quiet clicks, and Seffie frowned.

  ‘What is it? What did he say?’ asked Aribella impatiently.

  ‘I don’t understand. It sounds like he’s . . . but he can’t be.’ Seffie shook her head.

  ‘What?’ Aribella pressed, feeling left out.

  ‘It sounds like he’s . . . singing or something. Do you think he’s winding us up?’

  Io made a few more clicking sounds.

  ‘Of course!’ Aribella picked up the slimy rope and hummed the same tune Ursula had sung when she took her to the Mask Maker, all the time tugging gently.

  ‘Not you too,’ Seffie groaned. ‘What is this about?’

  But the next second, Seffie’s protests died in her throat, for a curved ferro emerged from the canal water, followed by the body of a sleek black gondola, shaking water from its hull. The winged golden lion painted on its side gleamed.

  ‘You did it, Ari!’ Seffie squealed, slapping Aribella on the back.

  Aribella glanced up at the Halfway’s windows. No one was watching. Eager not to waste more time, she untied the rope and they jumped in. A thrum of excitement filled her chest as she stood on the crescent-shaped stern. She pocketed the permesso and took up the heavy oar. Its wood was smooth and slippery. She gripped it tightly, afraid it would slide right out of her grasp. Her fingers tingled and she felt excitement rush up inside her. She had never been allowed to steer any boat before, let alone a gondola.

  Theo would be so impressed . . . and envious.

  Io settled on the ferro, apparently coming with them. Aribella was pleased. They could use all the help they could get. Luna stayed where she was on the jetty, both eyes open now.

  ‘To the palace,’ Seffie called.

  Aribella lifted the oar into the lock. It took a few attempts – Aribella teetering as she tried to keep her balance – but finally, after some jimmying, the oar slid into position. It then took a few tries to get the boat moving. On her first stroke, the oar came crashing out on to the deck.

  ‘Sorry, Sef!’ She shoved both her mask and the oar back into place, and threw all her weight into the next stroke. This time the wrong part of the blade hit the water and a curtain of spray showered them both.

  ‘Gentler, Ari,’ Seffie whispered. ‘Gondolas are like animals. You have to be kind.’

  Aribella did as Seffie suggested and held the oar as if she was holding Luna, without gripping or fear. The feeling she’d had that morning in training came rushing back to her and she felt the hull of the gondola vibrate and her mask tingle, both of them responding to her.

  The oar slipped easily through the water and the gondola slid forwards.

  Seffie cheered and soon they were skimming along the Grand Canal as if Aribella had been rowing gondolas her whole life. It felt amazing to be good at something so instantly, almost as if she’d been born to do it, and very quickly they reached the Palace entrance. She had been scared her mask wouldn’t work outside the hotel, but Seffie had no such worries and they floated past the guards unseen and moored among the palace gondolas, which, on closer inspection, weren’t half as impressive as the Halfway’s.

  Unwatchable, they crept up the stone steps and into an inner courtyard. An enormous marble staircase led up to the floor above, flanked by two male statues at the top. One man held a fish, and the other a very sharp-looking spear. Aribella gazed up at them, allowing herself a moment to marvel that she was here, inside the palace of the Doge. Her mask was still tingling.

  ‘The Giants’ Staircase,’ Seffie whispered. ‘Those two are Neptune and Mars, representing Venice’s history of sea and war . . . What?’ she added quickly, when Aribella shot her a look. ‘Sometimes I listen when Fin’s talking. Race you!’

  Aribella followed her as quietly as she could. At the top of the staircase was a set of oak doors. Seffie turned the heavy iron handles and the door screeched. A long corridor extended in both directions.

  ‘Where do you think the Doge is?’ Aribella asked, looking around, but Io was already fluttering down the corridor, leading the way.

  Aribella and Seffie hurried after the little bat, occasionally losing sight of him in the shadows, only to spot him again ahead. The long corridor was full of statues, ornaments, drapes and dark paintings. It smelt of lemon and dust.

  Aribella was glad Io was here to lead the way. The palace was like a maze.

  Her mask wasn’t tingling any more – it was stinging her, not quite as badly as Rodolfo’s had when she’d tried to take it from him. But strong enough to make her untie the ribbons and pull it off.

  ‘What’s the matter, Ari?’ Seffie whispered, pulling off her own mask in concern.

  What was going on? Was the mask only now deciding that she wasn’t its owner after all? But no, her name was still there, written inside it. Except . . . was that her imagination or did the letters beneath it look less crossed out?

  ‘My mask – it stung me,’ she managed before a voice barked from behind them.

  ‘What are you two doing in here? How did you get in?’

  Aribella looked up, full of panic. Three guards were approaching. Quickly she shoved the mask into the pocket of her clock.

  ‘Please,’ she said desperately, ‘we have an appointment with the Doge. Our master sent us in his place.’

  The guards looked at them sceptically, and one said gruffly, ‘We’ll soon see about that.’

  ‘A likely story,’ another scoffed.

  ‘It’s the truth!’ Seffie said fiercely.

  ‘Then why did you not announce yourselves at the gate? Come on, we’re taking you for questioning.’ He grabbed Aribella’s arm. Her fingers itched and it took all her concentration to stop her power rising up inside her.

  She heard doors opening at the end of the corridor.

  ‘What is the meaning of all this?’ said a thin voice.

  Aribella spun round and saw a glittering mask and snow-white robes. Her breath caught.

  The Doge of Venice!

  At once, the guards bowed.

  ‘We just found these two sneaking around the palace, Serenissimo
Principe,’ said the first guard, who was still holding Aribella tightly. ‘They claim they’re here to see you. But we’ve no idea how they got in.’ He glared at one of his companions, who must have been on guard duty.

  ‘We’ve come on behalf of Signore Rodolfo Foscari, Serenissimo Principe,’ Aribella burst out, before the guard could silence her. ‘About one of your prisoners. A lacemaker from Burano.’

  ‘On behalf of Rodolfo, you say?’ For a moment, the Doge remained unreadable, but then he opened his arms wide. ‘Well, any friend of Rodolfo’s is a friend of mine. Unhand my guests, please. Come, let us discuss this in my chamber.’

  Aribella and Seffie, still flanked closely by the guards, followed the Doge through the doors into the most enormous room Aribella had ever seen, bigger even than those at the Halfway. The ceiling was as high as two houses and every inch of wall was covered with dark frescos in gilt frames. Even the ceiling had a fresco so vast and detailed it made Aribella’s eyes water.

  Searching for something to look at that wouldn’t give her a headache, Aribella found her gaze drawn to the top border of the chamber walls, where there were faces painted. She recognized the distinctive cone-shaped crowns painted on their heads. Every Doge that had ever ruled Venice must be painted here, she realized, to watch over the Republic’s affairs for ever. Aribella noticed a small, winged shape hanging upside down from the border. Io! She knew he could look after himself.

  ‘Leave us,’ the Doge said to his guards, who seemed reluctant but nevertheless obeyed. Seffie blew a very loud raspberry at the man who’d been holding her, and Aribella’s body sagged with relief. She rubbed her sore arms. Soon it was just the Doge, Aribella, Seffie and, in the top corner, Io.

  ‘Forgive the hostility,’ the Doge said kindly in his thin voice. ‘My guards are just being protective. But they don’t know about the Cannovacci or their wonderful masks.’ He gazed appreciatively at Seffie’s beautiful animal mask, before tapping his own with a gloved finger. It was encrusted with so many diamonds that it sparkled wonderfully in the lamp-light, but still looked oddly flat and plain compared to the Cannovacci masks. ‘I’m an admirer, you see . . . Do you have one too?’ he asked Aribella.