Astolfo turned to me. “I must inform you, Falco, that lately such exotica of greenery has dropped from fashion. You will recall Ser Marchiotti, who prided himself on his great collection of noxious plants. He hath fallen prey to a peculiar, miasmic lily and his health is much shaken. The exotica mania may be running its course.”
“Have we then no buyers?” asked Torronio.
“Have you any wares?” Astolfo inquired.
“We shall have within three days or fewer such oddments of nature that even the most jaded of the Green Knights and Verdant Ladies will vie anxiously for them,” I said. “These specimens follow behind us by messenger.”
I did not say that the messenger was Mutano and that I had stationed Sneakdirk, Crossgrain, and Squint a half league above Tardocco on the Via Auster to waylay him and once more lighten him of his precious burdens. I counted upon my delusive map to bring him down from the mountains by the Via Auster and not the Via Boreas to eastward.
“Perhaps you overvalue this cargo,” Astolfo suggested.
“I think not,” I said, and went on to describe the character of some of the plants we were bringing forth. The march from the mountains had made us dusty, weary, and footsore, but its tediousness had given me time to think on our travails in the Dark Vale and upon the things we found there. I recalled the silence that was thicker than silence, with the whispery sibilance at its heart; I recalled the mucid, velvety leaves and blooms of the shrubs and how they rubbed upon our clothing and how the vine tendrils sought for our patches of bare flesh. I pondered the fetid gum that clung to us and sublimed to white powder in sunlight and thought long upon the black adders that changed their forms to become hard roots and vines.
“I believe the flora and fauna of that valley to league in convolvement together,” I told Astolfo. “Their mainstay food is the shadows of animals, though they doubtless derive some nourishment also from rain and soil. It is not that they eat shadows as donkeys munch down hay. They take into themselves the shadows they capture and within them are preserved the living shades of passersby—of the troops and caravans and robber bands and solitaries who come that way. Undoubtedly, they also hold captive from early times the shadows of bears and boars and deer and suchlike. All these shadows are interwoven into a single entity through the roots and vines underground and above. It is a thing like—like a fisherman’s net.” I’d almost said, Like the leaf-net that Mutano dropped upon us from treetop, but bit my tongue in time. “They propagate by means of an evil-smelling slime that blind snakes exude, crowding amongst ’em. And all this dark herbage, together with the serpents and some invisible flying creatures like black moths, make up, all of them at once, a single intelligence, darkly knowing, ravenous in its need for animate shadows.”
As I was speaking, Astolfo closed his eyes, the better to comprehend my meaning. He was silent a long time. Then: “All this matter, if’t be true, will be a discovery to the world. Such plants would have a value beyond any price that might be set.”
I agreed.
“But,” he continued, “there are dangers attending, known and unknown.”
Again I agreed.
“If one of these plants, be it set in soil and nurtured, grow to maturity, may it not snatch away the shadow of its possessor or of some other?”
“It may.”
“Will this taken shadow join to the great knot of them?”
“I know not. The Vale is far.”
“Yet the nighttime covereth all the world.”
“I take you not.”
“The sea hath its currents, as do the river and the lake. Fish and other water creatures know and traverse such flowings. Midnight owns its currents also, which these umbraphagous plants must know and utilize.”
“How so?”
He fell silent. Then: “I do not know. ’Twill be a matter of constrained study.”
“You imply that our plants are too dangerous for human possession.”
Sighing ruefully, he shook his head. “The peril only makes ’em the more precious to those of a certain cast of mind. We shall not lack buyers, but we must be at pains to inform them how to ensure their safety.”
“We!” said Torronio. “How are you concerned with the selling?”
“Our expedition was undertaken at the maestro’s commission,” I said. “He hath vested coin and the labor of his servants, mine and Mutano’s.”
“If so you say.” He took the news with ill grace, feeling deceived.
“Fear not,” Astolfo said. “My interest here is more philosophical than monetary. There is an unthought-of world to be known of these plants, if indeed they come into our hands. And it may be that Mutano will return with an entirely different store of specimens and a different history.”
“That may be,” I said, keeping my laughter silent. “Meanwhile, Torronio and I must go to look after our own.”
“Well, then.”
* * *
This time it fell out more easy.
Torronio, Sneakdirk, Squint, and Crossgrain accosted Mutano and his pack animals on the Via Auster a league above the western gate of Tardocco. He offered but puny resistance, Torronio reported. His long and fruitless wandering had sapped strength of body and vitality of spirit. He drew his cutlass but threw it down when the four raised their points toward him. He handed over the reins with the air of an aged prince abdicating a weary throne.
I did not make my presence known to him until I had overlooked the cargo and ascertained it was in good order. I performed certain experiments with lamps, mirrors, and sheets of fine-wove linen and was satisfied.
Our trio of confederates could not enter the precincts of the city on pain of apprehension by the civil guard, so Torronio and I presented ourselves with the containers of roots, blossoms, and so forth before Astolfo and then requested that Mutano be sent for.
When he entered and saw me there, he showed no surprise. He must have understood that in following the circuitous, perplexing routes my false map laid out he had fallen into a ruse. He eyed me with silent resignation, but I heard from his throat, or perhaps from his mind, a small feline growling that promised retribution.
I must keep watch on him, I thought.
Yet he did not go without reward, for Astolfo promised to apportion him a small share of whatever profits might accrue. It would be my duty to study these materials and to turn them to trade. Meanwhile, Astolfo advanced a fat pouch of eagles to share out with Torronio and his comrade exiles. There would be sufficient coin to buy off the bounties that had been set upon them. He suggested also that this little band of former exiles had accrued skills and experience that might be useful to the city in times of crisis, and he advised them to keep current with one another.
“Mrrir mrrir?”
“Mutano inquires,” I told Astolfo, “about what might happen if I fail to find profit in these specimens.”
“Then the materials will be placed in his charge,” he answered, “to see if he may do better.”
At these words, Mutano grinned cheerfully, and that grin, more than the prospect of coin, gave spine to my resolve. I would research these black plants and their husband serpents and make experiment. I would bring their secrets to light.
As if in answer to my thoughts, the adders fell into a commotion in their leathern bag, tumbling and thumping, and a small, quiet, sourceless music sounded in the room.
Astolfo looked a question toward me.
“Some errant pilgrim has wandered into the Vale,” I said. “His shadow is his no more.”
VI
Maze of Shadows
Where was he? Mutano had been absent for two days and nights and no word had come from him or concerning him. I was peevish upon his absence, for it meant that all the chores connected with our Nighthouse, the converted stable where we were cultivating the shadow-eating plants taken from the Dark Vale, fell to me. Worse still, when we were summoned by Maestro Astolfo to receive reprimand, I had to bear all by myself the brunt of his displeasure.
“You have told me,” Maestro Astolfo said, “that you and Mutano made safe the emptied château of the baron, Tyl Rendig, that you mounted shadows in his halls and disposed them along his corridors and hung them about his stairways and massed them in cellars and storerooms. You wagered a gold eagle that no thief could get into the innermost room and take what was placed there. Do I recall your words aright?” He gave me a severe and piercing regard.
“You do,” I said.
“And do you recall the valuable that you set upon the marble chessboard in the center of a close, dim room?”
“A ring of silver, it was, with an onyx stone in a pierced setting.”
He stepped to the door of this, the smaller library, and opened the door. There entered a tall, long-faced, gaunt man with a scanty white beard. In his right hand he held a worn hawthorn staff that stood to the height of his ear and his left hand rested upon the shoulder of a girl. She appeared to be about fourteen years of age and was pale as the winter moon. They were dressed in beggars’ threadbare robes, the girl wearing an undershift of coarse white linen. The old man wore sandals; she was barefoot and visibly cold. Her expression was strange and haunted, her dark eyes large in her pale face. Whatever her glance rested upon she gazed at fixedly, as if trying to comprehend its meaning.
“You have heard me speak in time past of my friend the Signor Veuglio and you know of his skills in ministering to diseases and ruptures of mind and spirit among the wealthy and the indigent of the city. I have told you of the many kindnesses he has performed without reward. Friend Veuglio, wilt’ou please show to my man Falco that bauble?”
The girl disengaged and stepped before me, gazing wide-eyed into my face. Veuglio reached into his sleeve, withdrew the object, and held it in his open palm. When I raised my eyes to his, I saw that they looked past me, not responding. They were gray, clear and bright, but the man was blind.
“Tell me, Falco,” the maestro said. “Doth he present the ring that you and Mutano hid away?”
I hardly glanced, knowing the answer. “It appears very similar.”
“Take it up. Examine closely. Let us try to be certain.”
I sighed and took the ring from the old fellow’s steady palm. This nettlesome prelude was designed to shame me. If the ring were not the same, this exercise would have no point. “I believe it to be the same.”
“How can it be? You and Mutano claimed to have set in place a maze of shadows no intruder could penetrate. Yet Signor Veuglio saith he entered the château, walked almost directly to the ring, and came away with it. Is that not so?”
“It is.” His voice was firmer and more vibrant than I could have expected in so old a man.
“And so, Falco?”
I said, “Shadow mazes are designed to deceive the eyes. Signor Veuglio, being blind, must have developed faculties that enable him to evade such entrapments. That would not be the case with your ordinary thief.”
“Ordinary—meaning that other thieves will possess the use of eyes?”
“The most of ’em,” I said.
“Yet may not a person having sound eyesight so discipline himself as to acquire such abilities as our guest possesses? If so, then he too could find his way.”
I thought. “Perhaps so,” I admitted, “though this feat would require a long and arduous course of discipline. The thief must not be impatient to come at his prize.”
“Do you think that you and our other man, Mutano, could acquire such abilities?”
“Mutano is missing from our villa for two days now,” I said. “I do not know where he is and I shall not venture to answer for him. As for myself, I think that with time and proper instruction I might attain some of these skills, though never any so keenly honed as Signor Veuglio’s. He must have been without sight for many a season.”
“Only three years sightless,” Veuglio said. “Even so, you would not pay so dear a price. Three years blind seemeth a much longer term.”
“Let us make trial,” Astolfo said. “Falco, come forth to the signor so that he may examine you.”
I stepped to the blind man and he ran his fingers lightly over my face and along the sleeve of my dun tunic. He touched my right hand and then withdrew his. The whole time of his touching me did not consume the space of ten breaths.
“Tell us somewhat of Falco,” Astolfo said.
“He is a well-formed jack,” said Veuglio, “though not so young these days as he pictures in his fancy. He trims his beard closely so that it will show a little less gray. He carries a brawn that bespeaks the labors of the field and his accent still bears a rustic note. He has been in your employ here in Tardocco for a longish period, arriving directly from a farm southward. He will disport him in expensive finery; only the tailor Gambe-Casserta keeps such close-woven bolts in stock. Yet though he dresses bravely, he keeps company in low taverns and stews, as the smells upon him declare. His bearing is easy and confident; I do not hear him shift about in his boots or twitch his fingers in the air. So I conclude that he is a swordsman of no common practice.”
“Falco?” said Astolfo.
“His describing is just,” I said, “insofar as I can judge of myself.”
“Essay a little further,” Astolfo said.
Veuglio paused for a moment, then spoke hesitantly. “There is a certain contradiction in the timbre of his voice. It seemeth complaisant, but beneath sounds a subdued hint of mockery. I might name him as one who desires the learning that his master Astolfo has gained and yet is skeptical of its final value.”
“Falco?”
“I cannot know how close is the accuracy of what the signor says,” I replied. “Yet I shall not deny his account, for I felt a little abashed as he spoke. He must have pointed up a truth or other I do not wish to own up to.”
“Very good,” Astolfo said. “Now give me back my silver ring before you lose it again.”
I handed it over, thinking how he had risked a costly ring merely to display my shortcoming.
The maestro rose from the big soft-leather chair by the fireplace. He was dressed in his wonted outfit of a green jerkin over tan trunks supported by his broad belt with its leopard’s-head buckle. He hunched his shoulders and flexed his hands, then slid the ring into an inner pocket. “Our guests are to sup with us this night,” he continued, “so I had better acquaint you. Veuglio I have known for many a season. We have undertaken a number of ventures together, during which I learned a great deal. You will find him a man of various skills and acute probity. His assistant we call by the name of his daughter Sibylla.”
The tall, bony man made a slight, grave bow. When he took his hand from Sibylla’s shoulder, she bobbed an awkward, childish curtsy, never shifting her gaze from my face. I bowed too, though I judged the gesture lost on a blind man, and muttered a polite acknowledgment.
“It will be well for Mutano to dine with us also,” Astolfo said. “I believe that he and thee have much to learn from our guests.”
“I know not where he may be,” I replied. “As I say, he is two days absent. He must have some private affair in hand.”
“Our meal is six hours distant,” Astolfo said. “See if you cannot search him out. I will have the servants show our guests to quarters and I will speak to our surly cook in regard to the meal. I take it, friend Veuglio, that you still abstain from the eating of flesh?”
“My diet is spare,” he said, “but I think that Sibylla may well have tired of roots and herbs and pulse and may welcome a fatter refreshment.”
She did not respond to this comment. All this while, she had been staring at me and Astolfo in a most fixed manner and her gaze did not waver when her name was spoken.
“I will have a word with Iratus, who prides himself on his sallets as well as on his haunch steaks.”
“We are obliged,” said Veuglio.
“I too have some business in hand,” Astolfo said. “And so, fare well until that hour.”
As he left the library, a maidservant entered t
o escort the blind man and the girl through the corridors to the east wing of the villa and I went away to wander the town.
* * *
Drawn on a map, the city of Tardocco presents a shape something like a chestnut leaf with stem upward. This main stem might represent the River Daia, flowing from various sources in the northward Molvoria Mountains through pastured plains below and into the center of the town, which spreads from it in all directions. The veins that trace out from the main stem might represent the streets and avenues, while the tiny veinlets might figure as the web of alleyways and narrow corridors through which donkey carts and handcarts and barrows transport stuffs from the loading docks, where ships of every design ride at anchor.
Along the upper edges of this figurative leaf will be the graceful, tree-lined avenues where the houses of the grand perch upon the rise that looks down upon the less peaceful parts. The houses become none so prosperous as one descends, and in the center of the town a network of busy streets is interrupted at points by spacious plazas, many of which encircle small green parks attractive to lovers and to nursemaids with their charges. The nethermost area is an extended belt which sweeps alongside the bow-shaped harbor, and here lie the fiddlers’ greens, the greasy taverns, the cockpits and bullrings and fighting-dog kennels, the brothels and flea markets and warehouses and tun cellars. Here there be snatchpurses, ratkillers, coney-catchers, footpads, cloak-twitchers, and drunken soldiers and their chuckaroos.
There is one large area a little westward of the center of the city where wide, crossing boulevards enclose tall-treed estates, and at this point of the city stands Astolfo’s villa, as proud in its posture as are the houses of the wine merchants, counting-house proprietors, and well-eagled military commanders which are its neighbors. I held it a matter of some pride that this villa was built upon the traffic of shadows and hoped that my life in the trade would be similarly well rewarded.
I had only the barest suspicion where Mutano had betaken himself. In late days he had become more and more despondent, sinking into dark moods that allowed him little of his accustomed cheeriness. I supposed that his disposition might have soured because our enterprise with our shadow-devouring plants was not thriving. Then there was the problem of his voice. He had lost his own voice to the machinations of a foe and it had been supplanted with the voice of a cat. For two long seasons now he had been confined to a cattish dialect. I had learned to comprehend much of it, though I could speak little. The meowing and growling and purring which rose from his throat were bound to try his patience most sorely and the burden of the feline tongue must soon undermine his naturally sanguine temperament.