City of Ships

  Unlike Fausto’s, Filippo’s mosaic did not have a patron who had commissioned it. But his parents allowed him to have it inset in the wall of his room. A portrait of the goddess was not against the law in Classe, as it would have been in a di Chimici city. Such an ornament was more likely to be seen as appropriate defiance of the repressive anti-magic laws. A defiant fist shaken in the face of Talia’s dominant family.

  And yet for the young man it had a private meaning that had nothing to do with hating the di Chimici – in fact, the very opposite. As he walked home, Filippo thought about Beatrice and wondered if he would ever see her again. An unpleasant smell broke into his thoughts and he was aware of a scruffy little man coming to walk beside him.

  ‘Salutations, Signore,’ said Enrico. ‘You liked the cat picture?’

  ‘The mosaic? Yes, very much,’ said Filippo. ‘Fausto is teaching me. But do I know you?’

  ‘Enrico Poggi,’ said the man, sticking out a grubby hand. ‘Here on business for the Cavaliere Crinamorte.’

  Filippo wondered what business the elegant Cavaliere of Bellezza could possibly have with this unprepossessing man. But politeness was part of his upbringing.

  ‘I was in Giglia last year,’ said Enrico chattily. ‘At the Church of the Annunciation.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Filippo. A frown creased his brow. ‘I’m afraid I have no memory of that.’

  Enrico believed him. He did not sound like a cold-blooded murderer and Enrico had known some in his time.

  ‘But you remember the di Chimici?’ he said. Enrico had decided this scarred young man would be an ideal ally in his mission to oppose the Grand Duke’s plans.

  ‘How can I ever forget them?’ asked Filippo bitterly. ‘They have destroyed my family.’ Then he added, ‘But they are not all bad.’

  ‘No,’ said the spy. ‘That Princess Beatrice now – she’s a good one.’

  This chimed so well with Filippo’s feelings that, on an impulse, he invited him in to see his mosaic, even though the little spy was an unlikely visitor in the Nucci’s elegant palazzo.

  ‘But that’s remarkable,’ said Enrico. ‘It is Princess Beatrice to the life.’

  ‘You think so?’ said Filippo, pleased. ‘It was supposed to be the goddess but somehow it has turned out to resemble the princess.’

  ‘You know she’s in Bellezza?’ said the spy.

  ‘No!’ said Filippo, looking at Enrico as if he were the oracle. ‘I imagined she was still in Giglia, from which I am exiled. But I thought Bellezza was Giglia’s enemy.’

  ‘The Grand Duke’s maybe. But Beatrice and the Grand Duke have had a falling out. The princess and I used to be quite close,’ said Enrico importantly. ‘You could always go and visit her there at the Ducal Palace. Bellezza’s not far away.’

  The English Stravaganti were completely puzzled by Isabel’s discovery. It made no sense. Now they came to think about it, there was no more reason why Matt’s talisman would transport a Talian to this world than the fake book Rinaldo had taken from Luciano.

  ‘Shall I fetch it?’ asked Matt.

  ‘It’s getting late,’ said Nick, looking at his watch. ‘My parents have some people coming for dinner and I promised I’d eat with them. Let’s meet tomorrow morning and bring our talismans. And we should all try to work out what happened with Filippo.’

  No one was very confident of coming up with an answer but Isabel, being the most recent Stravagante among them, was a bit fresher in the way she looked at how they made their journeys.

  She thought about it all the way home.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ asked Charlie when she let herself in.

  ‘Round at Nick’s,’ she said.

  ‘Again?’ he said, rolling his eyes.

  ‘What’s it to you?’ asked Isabel. ‘You have your friends.’

  ‘Sure,’ said Charlie. ‘But I don’t spend every waking hour with them. You see far more of those guys than you do of your family.’

  ‘Ah, do you miss me?’ said Isabel, trying to recapture the lightness of tone that used to be part of their relationship.

  ‘Yes, I do, actually,’ said her brother. ‘I don’t like the way you are these days.’

  That smarted; Isabel was shocked by his seriousness. Then she just felt annoyed. Charlie was jealous. Fine. Let him feel a tiny part of what she had been putting up with for seventeen years.

  ‘You mean you don’t like it when I’m not just a clone of you,’ she said. ‘When did you ever ask me to go out with you and your friends? All I’m doing is having a life of my own.’

  ‘What are you two rowing about?’ said their father, coming out of the living room.

  ‘Nothing,’ they both said simultaneously. This was not twin-telepathy, just teenage solidarity in the face of parental nosiness.

  ‘Oh good,’ said Tony Evans. ‘Then perhaps you could go and argue about nothing further away?’

  ‘I don’t think he’ll ever make a mosaicist,’ Fausto told the Duke as they watched Filippo limp away from the ceremony, accompanied by a small man neither of them recognised.

  ‘No?’ said the Duke. ‘That’s a pity. He seems to love the work so much.’

  ‘He has made a good piece,’ said Fausto. ‘But one good piece is not enough. It was a straightforward portrait, like the one I’ve made of your cat, Your Grace. That’s just painting using tesserae. It takes more than that to design a floor or wall mosaic.’

  ‘Poor soul,’ said Flavia, who had come up beside them. ‘He so wants to be useful, to find how to make his way in the world. And he doesn’t care for banking.’

  ‘He told me he really wanted to be in your fleet,’ Fausto said to Duke Germano, ‘but he realises that his injuries make that path impossible.’

  ‘It’s true that he can’t shin up a mast or be nimble on deck,’ mused Germano. ‘But there are other tasks in my navy and he is an intelligent man. Let me see what I can find for him to do. If you think his father would approve.’

  ‘I think his father would be glad to have him usefully employed,’ said Flavia. ‘He would prefer him to follow him into the money business. But he sees how unhappy the boy is and knows he would be better off doing something he enjoys.’

  ‘I wonder if he has any talent for diplomacy?’ mused Germano.

  Isabel had missed seeing Vitale’s house opened. She had her usual long sleep on Saturday night and when she did get up on Sunday she prepared to go back to Nick’s. Charlie saw her just as she was stuffing the talisman into her pocket.

  ‘What’s that?’ he asked.

  Isabel felt very reluctant to tell him but could think of no reason not to. She drew the red velvet bag back out of her jeans pocket. It sat innocently on her palm, giving nothing of its magical properties away.

  ‘What’s in it?’ asked Charlie, prodding it with his forefinger.

  ‘Silver tesserae,’ said Isabel truthfully. ‘You know, the little blocks mosaics are made from?’

  Charlie immediately lost interest. ‘Oh, one of your Art things,’ he said.

  ‘That’s right,’ said Isabel, shrugging her jacket on.

  ‘You off again?’ he asked. ‘Back to Nick’s? As if I didn’t know. Honestly, if the whole school didn’t know about his thing with that girl in our year, I’d definitely think you two were an item.’

  ‘Georgia,’ said Isabel. ‘She’s called Georgia. And she’s going to be there too. You’ve got a one-track mind.’

  ‘Oh, are you going out again?’ asked their mother, who was on her way in through the front door with her arms full of the Sunday papers. ‘Will you be back for lunch?’

  ‘Yes, I’m study-buddying over at the Mulhollands’ place,’ said Isabel.

  Charlie snorted. ‘And why do you need those tessy-things for that?’

  Isabel was stumped for an answer. But her mother stepped in.

  ‘Sky Meadows is going to be there, isn’t he?’ she said. ‘I bumped into Rosalind at the newsagent’s and she told me. And he’s doing A level
Art, like Bel.’

  Isabel flashed her a grateful smile and escaped.

  She was the last to arrive at the Mulhollands’ and the others had already set their talismans out on the coffee table. Isabel had read Georgia’s list, like the others, but it was different seeing them all there – the black flying horse like Merla, the quill pen, the blue perfume bottle and the leather-bound spell-book. Shyly, she took out the velvet pouch and laid it beside them. The only England-to-Talia talismans missing were Doctor Dethridge’s copper dish and Luciano’s marbled notebook.

  Sky moved up to make room for her next to him on the sofa and no one but Isabel noticed. It felt so right and natural to squeeze in beside him.

  ‘So how far have you got?’ she asked.

  ‘Nowhere,’ said Sky. ‘We waited for you.’

  The sense of belonging was overwhelming; Isabel felt so lucky. If she hadn’t found the talisman – or it hadn’t found her, as Dethridge would say – she would never have found this degree of acceptance in the group. It was amazing how they had opened up and let her in.

  ‘I wonder who will be next?’ she said, without realising she was speaking out loud.

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Georgia.

  ‘Sorry,’ said Isabel. ‘I mean, who will be the next Stravagante? It’s always someone from our school, isn’t it? It’s probably someone we know already.’

  ‘I can’t get my head round that at the moment,’ said Nick. ‘It’s hard enough understanding about the Stravaganti we’ve got already. Have you had any ideas about Filippo’s stravagation?’

  Isabel had to admit she hadn’t.

  ‘Can I touch the talismans?’ she asked.

  When they all agreed, she picked up each one in turn. There was nothing that could be concealed about them, until she reached Matt’s book. Perhaps that was a clue? She unwound the leather strips carefully. And then she opened the book.

  ‘Where’s the counter-spell for the evil eye?’ she said.

  ‘There,’ said Matt, leaning over and pointing. ‘There’s a bookmark.’

  Isabel stared at him and then so did the others.

  ‘A bookmark?’ asked Georgia. ‘You mean like an ordinary paper bookmark from this world?’

  Matt looked quite comical, with his mouth open.

  ‘That’s it, isn’t it?’ he said at last. ‘I did it. I opened the gate for Filippo by putting a bookmark in the spell-book. It wasn’t my talisman that sent him to our world at all.’

  Isabel held up the bookmark, which advertised Mortimer Goldsmith’s antiques shop. Such a flimsy little thing to have brought a di Chimici prince through the portal to their world, even if only for a few seconds.

  ‘Wow!’ said Sky. ‘I thought only really advanced Stravaganti could do that – could make a talisman from our world.’

  ‘Well,’ said Georgia, ‘I did it when I brought Nick here. He used my eyebrow ring.’

  ‘I remember that ring,’ said Sky. ‘You haven’t worn it for a while now.’

  ‘I destroyed it,’ said Georgia.

  ‘I asked her to,’ said Nick. ‘I didn’t want to be tempted to go back.’

  ‘But you have a new talisman?’ asked Isabel.

  ‘I’ve had two,’ said Nick. ‘Brother Sulien gave me the quill pen to take me to Giglia, but Georgia gave me Merla’s feather before, to get me to Remora. I had to swap.’

  ‘Then it’s Georgia who’s the powerful Stravagante,’ said Isabel. ‘You’ve made a talisman in both directions.’

  ‘Well, at least we’ve solved the mystery,’ said Georgia, embarrassed.

  ‘I’ll tell Flavia tonight,’ said Isabel. ‘And I’ll ask her what hers is – maybe she can tell me about the others’ talismans too?’

  But when Isabel arrived in Classe there was no time to ask Flavia anything. Andrea was at her palazzo, burning with news.

  ‘It’s only three weeks till the attack,’ he said. ‘I’m just off to tell them in Bellezza.’

  ‘How do you know?’ asked Isabel. But even as she asked she knew Andrea would not let them in on everything he knew and how; it was part of his image to be mysterious.

  Three weeks! Her first thought, incongruously, was that it would at least be happening in the Easter holidays in her world. If she had to take part in a sea battle, it would be pretty hard to go to school the next day. The very thought was absurd; what could she do in a battle of any kind? But perhaps that wasn’t what her task would be. Isabel had thought about this for so long that her mind was weary.

  ‘Come with me,’ said Andrea impulsively. ‘Come to Bellezza.’

  ‘Me?’ said Isabel, startled.

  ‘Why not?’ asked Andrea. ‘Flavia tells me you can come and go as you please now.’

  He never says ‘my mother’, thought Isabel. And he knows I’m a Stravagante.

  ‘Do you think I should go?’ she asked Flavia.

  The merchant shrugged. ‘You might as well. There is nothing more to be done here. And it isn’t as if you need to come back here by nightfall any more – you can stravagate home from Bellezza. I’ll tell Rodolfo you’re both coming and then go and talk to the Duke.’

  Andrea walked Isabel briskly down to the harbour and on to his caravel. They could easily make the whole journey to the lagoon city that way, he said.

  As she looked over the side at the rushing waves, Isabel realised that she was no longer afraid of the water. She wondered if it had anything to do with her swimming lessons at home.

  ‘What are you thinking?’ asked Andrea.

  ‘I can swim now,’ she said, turning to him with a smile. ‘Oh, not far and I’m not a very strong swimmer. But I wouldn’t sink if you chucked me over the side now.’

  ‘You know I would never do that,’ he said reproachfully, then grinned, flashing his silver canines. ‘It wouldn’t be any fun if you can swim.’

  ‘Do you really think the Gate people will attack Classe in three weeks?’ she asked, looking back at the familiar shape of the city’s harbour as the caravel rapidly left it behind.

  ‘I know they will,’ he said calmly. ‘They think I will help them lead the attack.’

  ‘What?’ said Isabel.

  ‘I offered them my services,’ he said.

  ‘So you’re a . . . double agent?’ said Isabel. ‘Isn’t that incredibly dangerous?’

  Andrea laughed. ‘I’m a pirate, Isabella. It’s what I do.’

  There was such a contrast between being alone with him on deck in the middle of the water, quietly contemplating Classe receding behind them, and this fantastic revelation of Andrea’s dangerous double life. It gave her the courage to ask again what she had always wanted to know.

  ‘Why do you do it?’

  Andrea looked at her for a long time and then clearly made a decision to tell her.

  ‘When I was young,’ he said, ‘I killed a man.’

  Isabel was shocked but she didn’t interrupt. She knew if he didn’t tell her everything now, when they were away from everyone else they knew, he never would.

  ‘It wasn’t an accident,’ he said, looking out to sea. ‘I planned it. He was my father.’

  Isabel was glad he was looking away from her. She didn’t think she could have kept her expression neutral. But still she kept quiet.

  ‘He was a villain,’ Andrea went on. ‘He led my mother a terrible life – drinking, womanising. Always had. He took any money she made out of the business and gambled it away. And then he started beating her. Even that he got away with, until I was old enough and big enough to defend her.’

  He clenched his fists on the ship’s rail.

  ‘And then she took on an assistant, Anna Maria. She was seventeen and very beautiful. How old are you, Isabella?’ He didn’t turn round.

  ‘Seventeen,’ she said.

  ‘I thought so. You remind me of her, you know. I don’t know why Flavia didn’t realise the danger. She thought she was doing the girl a favour. I was eighteen and supposed to be going to the University in
Bellezza. I fell in love with Anna Maria. She felt the same way about me and I didn’t want to leave her. But she insisted I should go and get an education. I was going to be a teacher. Can you believe it?’

  It was a question that didn’t need an answer. Isabel realised she was holding her breath.

  ‘The first time I came back from Bellezza, everything was different. Anna Maria was very quiet, couldn’t look me in the eye. It was Flavia who told me. I don’t know to this day if she knew what I’d do. She was just anxious to get Anna Maria away. When my father got back from his drinking bout that evening, I was waiting for him.’

  The silence on the deck lengthened.

  ‘I didn’t take any chances,’ Andrea continued at last. ‘I told him what I thought of him and then I cut his throat.’

  Isabel put her hands over her mouth to stop herself from crying out.

  ‘Both the women went mad. They said I’d be put away for ever. But I didn’t care. Then, when my blood cooled, I regretted what I’d done. Oh, not to him, before you ask. I’d do it again in the blink of an eye for what he did to Anna Maria. But to them.’ He sighed deeply.

  ‘Flavia managed it all. No one knew I was back – I hadn’t told them I was coming. She smuggled me out, told me to run and keep running. Then she would raise the alarm and tell the city watch when they came that an intruder had killed her husband for his money. She would break into the money-chest and hide the contents. It was all her money anyway.’

  Isabel had to speak. ‘But why did you have to stay away if no one knew it was you? Couldn’t you have just come back from university and pretended you didn’t know?’

  Andrea turned round and looked at her.

  ‘I didn’t go,’ he said. ‘It was a good plan but I couldn’t leave Anna Maria. She was pregnant.’

  ‘With your child?’ whispered Isabel.

  The hatred on his face was terrifying. ‘No. I had treated her with respect. I wanted to marry her. The child was the result of rape.’

  He turned back to sea.

  ‘Flavia never managed to tell the guards anything. They caught me with blood on my clothes still loitering outside the house, unable to go away. They dragged me in while she was still screaming. One look at me and she knew it was useless to pretend.’