The outfit made Sofia feel safer, and she understood for the first time the strength Ghino took from no one noticing you. She shook her head. She had to stop thinking about him. She wished he’d never existed.
‘Nearly there,’ she whispered to Ermin, pointing towards the steps ahead.
‘We’re going the wrong way,’ whispered Ermin. ‘The entrance is—’
‘We’re not going in the front,’ said Sofia. ‘Come on.’
She led them past the jut of the nave, the shunt of the antechamber and up the steep, slick steps at the back of the cathedral. Gargoyles and stone saints loomed above them, their white stone shifting as clouds scudded across the bright moon. Sofia was careful not to look any of them in the eye. They were so lifelike, she was worried they would move.
Finally, they reached the small, wooden door at the back of the cathedral – the one Mamma had led her through years before. She pushed it gently open. The moonlight stretched across the mosaic floor, and the relic room sat quiet and curved.
Sofia paused, thinking the sight of these shelves, now full of Mamma’s reliquaries, would soothe her. But instead, she saw nothing. She must have gasped aloud, for Ermin pulled at her arm.
‘Sofia? What’s wrong?’
But she could only point. Every shelf of the curved room was empty. The relics were gone.
Ermin peered in. ‘What?’
He hadn’t seen it as it had been, couldn’t understand the shock she was feeling to see the cathedral’s treasures ransacked.
‘Sofia?’
She found her voice, tiny in her throat. ‘Come on.’
It was almost pitch black in the transept, like being back underground. Sofia led Ermin towards a meagre glimmer of light. One votive candle burned solidly in the darkness and Sofia felt her way towards it, feeling beneath its metal stand to find more which she lit from the first.
The reach of the light grew and stretched into the vast space of the cathedral; the quartz floor shot through with shining crystal, shimmering like veins beneath their feet, stretching up a massive font of stone. The walls were crowded with painted figures dressed in robes, staring stern as judges down at them.
The entrance to the tower lay ahead, but before Sofia could lead them any further into the nave the huge doors at the back of the church were thrown open, flooding the cathedral with moonish light.
Sofia dragged Ermin behind the font, peering past the cloth as Capitana Rosa strode inside with – Sofia’s heart beat faster with rage – Ghino. But he was being hauled, protesting, his feet dragging on the floor. Their voices carried through the cavernous space, bouncing off the walls.
‘I found them, Capitana—’
‘Shut up, thief.’
‘But I told you, the doctor said he would help me—’
‘I doubt he said anything,’ snapped Capitana Rosa. ‘And wasn’t the deal you would deliver the bone builder’s children to me?’
Ermin gripped Sofia’s hand so hard it hurt, but she didn’t pull away.
‘That wasn’t my fault—’
‘Hush! You better hope the hair is enough to convince the bone builder.’
Sofia cringed as Capitana Rosa held out the hank of Sofia’s curls that the massive magpie had taken. She rubbed the sore spot, wondering where the bird was now, as Capitana Rosa pulled Ghino into the antechamber – and soon the voices faded.
Sofia and Ermin looked at each other. ‘Mamma,’ breathed Ermin. ‘Are they going to Mamma?’
‘I think so,’ whispered Sofia.
Ermin pocketed Corvith, the crow’s head swivelling as Ermin ran after the capitana and the thief, bent low between the pews. Sofia followed, heart thudding louder than her footsteps on the flagstones.
Ermin had already slipped into the room ahead, and, full of relief at hearing no shouts of alarm or alert, Sofia hurried after him. She entered a room full of colour, but there was no one inside but her brother and their crow.
‘Where’d they go?’ hissed Ermin.
The room was lit by candles and was only slightly larger than Mamma’s workshop at home. The walls were lined with maps, glistening blue and gold and green from glass cabinets. They passed a star chart, spangled in gold and the dotted rotations of the constellations, and a vellum map that looked like an original plan for the cathedral.
Sofia scanned the walls, walking a fast loop round the paper-covered room. She could see nothing out of place, nothing out of the ordinary.
She came to a halt before a huge stretch of parchment, lining almost the entirety of one wall. It alone was uncovered by glass and the design was strange, so Sofia did not at once understand what it was.
The edges were black with channels of white running through them like a termite’s nest, twisting and looping strangely. Through the centre ran a trail of brilliant blue, a snake-like curve undulating through the black.
Sofia traced the blue. ‘The hidden river,’ she murmured. ‘Ermin, this is the river we crossed.’
The river Ghino drowned in. Drowned, and yet did not die.
‘Sofia,’ whispered Ermin. ‘Look.’
He brushed the bottom edge of the map. One corner was loose and flapping, as though caught in a breeze. Sofia lifted it. A small wooden door with a bone keyhole, was concealed behind it. She tried the handle, but it was locked.
‘Your locket,’ said Ermin, but Sofia had already placed it into the keyhole. Pushing the door open, she saw a set of stairs leading not down, but up as far as she could see. Where the palazzo tower had been square, this was circular – an infinite-seeming snail shell, thankfully free of magpies.
Corvith cooed softly, awake now, as Ermin came to stand beside her. ‘Do you really think Mamma’s up there?’
Though she could not be certain, could not even allow herself to voice the possibility, hope burned bright and painful in Sofia’s heart. Ermin slid his hand into hers and squeezed it briefly before moving past her, on to the stairs.
‘Come on.’
The staircase was structured round a stone pillar. It was cool to the touch and there seemed to be something inside it, something whispering and bubbling. Water? Sofia frowned. It made no sense for there to be water here, when the city wells were dry.
Sofia’s legs burned, and her breath came hot and tight in her lungs. They reached a little landing and Ermin stopped, panting and pale. Corvith nuzzled his cheek.
‘What’s . . . that . . .’ gasped Ermin between great, sucking breaths. He was pointing at a dull wooden door. It, too, had a bone lock, and Sofia looked from it, to the locket.
‘Do you think?’ Ermin asked hopefully, but Sofia was certain it would not be so easy. Mamma could not be here, behind this door? But just as she was about to shake her head no, they heard a small voice come from behind the wood.
‘Hello?’
Sofia had to clap a hand over Ermin’s mouth to stop him from crying out.
‘Hello?’ The voice came again. It wasn’t Mamma, or a guard, or even a grown-up. It was a girl’s voice. ‘Who’s there?’
Sofia pressed her eye to the keyhole, but she couldn’t see anything. She pressed the locket into the lock, and the door swung inwards.
There, sitting on the bare floor of a tiny dark cell and looking more like a dormouse than ever, was Carmela. Sofia gaped at her, her shock mirrored in the girl’s face. Ermin hurried forwards, helping Carmela to her feet. She swayed, unsteady.
Sofia could only think of stupid questions. ‘What’re you doing here?’
‘What’re you doing here?’ echoed Carmela. ‘How did you escape?’
‘Escape?’
‘They’re keeping us here. Sister Rosa. And I’ve seen other nuns, the priest too. They’re all soldiers.’
Fear roiled in Sofia’s stomach. ‘Why?’
Carmela trembled. ‘I don’t know. But we get moved up through the floors.’
‘There are more of you?’
Carmela nodded miserably. ‘I’ve heard them bringing more children. A boy went past just now.�
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‘Ghino,’ murmured Ermin.
Sofia could not allow herself to think about what all this meant. This wasn’t about Mamma alone any more. She needed to get Carmela and the others out.
‘Carmela,’ she said. ‘Do you have somewhere you can hide?’
‘I don’t have a home,’ said Carmela.
‘The grove,’ said Ermin. ‘Our olive grove. It’s dark. She can make it.’
A plan knitted together in Sofia’s mind. It was patchy and full of holes, but they had to help the children.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Carmela, take the eastern route out of the city. You know it? Good. Follow it to the highest hill. There’s an olive grove there—’
‘I don’t want to go on my own,’ Carmela said, lip trembling.
‘Corvith,’ said Ermin. ‘Our crow can take you.’
Sofia reached up instinctively to the crow. She didn’t want him to go.
‘We’ll be all right, Sofia,’ said Ermin. He sounded like the big sibling, not her. ‘And we can free the other children on the other floors, and they can all go together and hide while we figure this out.’
Sofia didn’t think it would be so easy, and Carmela looked as though she might faint as it was.
‘You should come too,’ said Carmela. ‘It’s not safe.’
‘Our mamma is here,’ said Sofia. ‘We have to find her.’
‘If I had a mamma, I’d stay too.’ Carmela’s cold hand found hers. ‘Be careful. And thank you.’
They didn’t waste a moment more. Leaving Corvith with Carmela, and filled with new urgency, Sofia and Ermin ran as quietly and as fast up the stairs as they could. Soon they reached another landing, another locked door. And sure enough, a boy was behind it.
He blinked at them, astonished. ‘Who are you?’
‘No time to explain,’ said Sofia. ‘Take the stairs down, follow the crow.’
She repeated this a further six times, finding a further six wide-eyed, terrified children, before at last, the stairs stopped. They had reached the final landing.
Two doors faced them, both with bone locks. From behind one, voices came low and inaudible through the thick wood. She reached for the handle, but Ermin shook his head. She knew he was hoping Mamma was behind the silent door, that their trail hadn’t led them into a room full of guards with no hope of rescuing her.
Though Sofia feared the worst, she opened the other . . . and her mouth fell open.
At first glance, Sofia saw nothing but white. White ceiling, white floors, white walls. It was the white of brilliant sunlight, so bright it stung her eyes. At first, and even third, glance it looked like the inside of a cloud.
But the longer she looked, the more details emerged.
The room was not painted, but built of polished bone. It was like their home, but larger and more ornate. The walls were braced with femurs, the ceiling a latticework of pelvises. Spines curved at the corners, and the shelves were formed from ribs. The massive, dawn-tinged windows were edged with latches of finger bone. The floor was a series of interlocking knee bones. All the corners curved, lending everything a soft edge, a gentleness. There are no straight lines in the body. And there, lining the walls, were the relics that she’d noticed were missing from the cathedral below – each in a brilliant box of bone. She could see Saint Catherine’s thumb, mounted in its golden lattice of knuckles and the arm of Saint John, cradled by linked femurs. Each piece was obviously crafted by Mamma, the work too fine to have been made by anyone else. But why had the relics been moved here? Had Mamma brought them?
Sofia clasped the locket in her palm, feeling the familiar pulse of strength bone always gave her. She moved into the white room. It was disorientating, lit by hundreds of lamps so nothing cast shadows. Though the bones were unyielding under her feet she felt more than ever like she walked through a cloud, picking up her feet too high.
At the centre was a well, set flush into the floor like the saint’s spring. Sofia peered down into it, surprised to see the water high enough to touch, almost level with the bone-tiled floor. She had been right about the stone column being full of liquid. It was strange to see such a thing so high up, but then Sofia supposed it was the same pressure that meant their hill well could funnel water from the depths. But how could there be so much water here, when just outside the city’s wells stood empty? She dipped her hand into the full bucket beside it. It was cool and fresh, recently drawn.
Along another wall, on a table covered in a spotless tablecloth that trailed almost to the floor, lay some glinting instruments so fine she could only just make them out against the pale surface. There were small needles and white thread, soft cotton swabs, and . . .
Her hand trembled. There, amongst the strange objects, was something very familiar.
Mamma’s final reliquary. The one she had shown them on the day of the Palio. It was set apart from the others, its hinge clasped.
Sofia slipped her locket into her pocket and reached out to it, barely breathing. But before she could pick it up, the door handle turned.
Sofia did the only thing she could think of and threw herself beneath the spotless tablecloth, dragging Ermin with her. They pressed themselves along the wall, Sofia on her belly so she could just make out the room beyond.
She watched the bottom of the door as it opened, and four people moved inside. Sofia could see Capitana Rosa’s boots, two pairs of bare feet and one pair of shoes as light and fine as lace. Sofia caught the scent of mint.
The stranger. Instantly Sofia was hauled into the past, crouching beneath their table at home, as the stranger left, leaving Mamma changed.
Capitana Rosa had not worked alone. The stranger was here.
‘Wait outside, Orsa,’ said the stranger, and Sofia heard an answering, abrasive caw. The massive magpie who had snatched at her hair. ‘And you, kneel by the well,’ said the stranger.
Sofia recognized the muddy feet obeying, the skin rough from the tunnels.
Ghino.
‘And you can watch, from over there,’ the stranger continued, and Sofia saw a figure struggling against Capitana Rosa, dressed in short skirts that skimmed their ankles.
‘What are you going to do?’
Ermin could not suppress a gasp, and Sofia clapped a hand over his mouth. That voice! As the figure was dragged past the table, sending the cloth flapping, the scent of lavender overpowered that of mint.
Mamma.
Sofia wanted to cry with relief and fear. Motioning for Ermin to stay where he was she pulled herself forwards a little, using the sounds of Mamma being dragged along to mask it, and peered through the gap to get a better view.
The sun was coming up now, the whole room turning pale gold. And there was Mamma, her dark hair wild and matted without her pin to tame it, her clothes dirty, her eyes large and angry. Relief flooded Sofia’s body as she realized Mamma was unharmed, fighting strongly against Capitana Rosa as she restrained her.
Ghino was kneeling beside the well, his scarred face no longer wrapped. He looked tense but excited. And standing over him, was the stranger Sofia had seen at their home. The woman who had begun Mamma’s sadness. Her green eyes pierced the scene and were framed by thick pale lashes. But the rest of her face was obscured by a shimmering silver veil, falling like water over her cheeks and mouth, held in place by a delicate silver chain at the centre of her forehead and looping over her ears.
‘Is he coming?’ asked Ghino excitedly. ‘I was promised a cure.’ He gestured at his face, its pocked skin. ‘A cure when I brought the children.’
‘But you didn’t bring them, did you?’ said the veiled woman.
‘I brought others, plenty of children to the orphanage—’
‘But not the children I specifically requested. You failed when I needed you to succeed most of all.’ She had a very precise way of speaking: a calm that seemed to hold a limitless depth of danger like an ocean, or a thinly covered pitfall. ‘You let them get away. I had to rely on Rosa to find them.’
Ermin grasped at Sofia’s arm. The woman was lying about Capitana Rosa catching them.
‘Please,’ said Mamma. ‘I told you, we cannot do what you have promised him—’
‘Shut up,’ said the stranger dismissively.
‘But the cure,’ said Ghino. ‘Please, won’t you fetch the doctor?’
The stranger laughed. ‘The doctor is already here.’
Ghino looked around in confusion.
‘Rosa,’ said the stranger, and Capitana Rosa crossed to her. She unlaced the coronet from the woman’s head and undid the thin chains holding her veil in place. At last Sofia saw the woman’s face.
It was pitted with deep, red holes, raw and angry-looking. There were scars patterning from her neck to her cheeks, leaving only her forehead and the skin about her eyes unmarked, a reminder of her once creamy complexion. But still, Sofia recognized her. The green eyes and the long, silky golden hair. The woman had survived the disease, but her good looks hadn’t.
It was Serafina Machelli. The duchessa.
‘That’s better,’ said Duchessa Machelli. ‘I can barely breathe with that on.’
‘Then why wear it?’ snapped Mamma.
Duchessa Machelli laughed. ‘Because appearances are everything, oh great bone builder of Siena. Most people don’t care what’s under the skin, don’t care if your heart is true, or your bones strong, as you do. Only how you look on the outside. Especially when you’re a Machelli.’
Ermin squeezed Sofia’s hand, only just catching on. He widened his eyes at her and she nodded in answer to his silent question.
‘You’re . . .’ Ghino paused, seemingly fascinated by Duchessa Machelli’s face. ‘You’re like me.’
‘I am nothing like you,’ sneered the duchessa.
‘Maybe the doctor can help you, too,’ said Ghino, and Sofia recognized pity in his voice. ‘He’s going to fix me.’
‘You don’t need to be fixed, child,’ said Mamma softly. ‘Don’t you understand what you’ve done, bringing children to her?’
‘Silence!’ snapped Duchessa Machelli, but a moment later her voice was melodious again as she turned to Ghino. ‘You are right, child, that the doctor is doing everything they can to help. That is why you are here.’
A Secret of Birds & Bone Page 11