What shall we do with the Baja-Menta?
Early in the Morn-ing?
We’ll spew and vomit Baja-Menta
We’ll hurl and barf Baja-Menta
We’ll puke and chunder Baja-Menta
Early in the Morn-ing
Heave-Ho Up It Rises
Heave-Ho Up it Rises
We’ll bare our Guts of Baja-Menta
Early in the Morn-ing
“Repulsive!” remarked Teo, grinning
“Yar,” agreed Lussa. “That is indeed the Concept.” She turned to the mermaids. “Good, Ladies! You may also improvise with the Harmonies if You so wish.”
The choir resumed singing with gusto, enthusiastically miming the relevant gestures.
“But …?” began Teo and Renzo in unison.
“Now They shall swim up into the Goldfish Pond in the Garden, lift the Booby Hatch to the Upper World and sing. The Echo in the Garden shall carry their Song all over Venice.”
“Won’t the people get hysterical?” asked Teo.
“Will they even believe it?” worried Renzo.
“With Ordinary Humanfolk, We must work as We do with the Sharks. There’s no Explaining to Them in Rational Ways. Instead, this Song will penetrate their Inner Minds without their knowing that It has entered their Ears. They shall not even need to talk about It. They shall simply stop eating the Ice-cream, for It will taste Repulsive to Them. Weigh your Anchors, Singers! Go take the Wind out of Il Traditore’s Sails!” cried Lussa.
The mermaid choir swam off eagerly.
Lussa turned back to Renzo and Teo. Her face was somber. She was holding a calendar.
“Undrowned Child & Studious Son, do You happen to know the Date?” she asked.
So many nights turned into days—Teo could not be certain. “June twelfth?” she murmured uncertainly. Renzo nodded tentatively.
Lussa opened the calendar to show them. Instead of beginning with January 1, this calendar showed the year starting on June 15. Vinceremo was written in old lettering on the cover: “We will win.” Then the date was repeated, this time illustrated with the Tiepolo crest.
Renzo exclaimed, “The anniversary of the conspiracy! That is when he plans to seize power again!” He pointed to a line at the bottom of the page. “Look, this was printed by the Ca’ Dario Press. That’s what’s been going on at night in that so-called haunted palace. That thumping noise is the printing press churning out this rubbish!”
A host of garish paper objects dropped out of the calendar. Bajamonte Tiepolo was so sure of his victory that the Ca’ Dario Press had been set to printing maps, little flags and even postcards, all decorated with his crest. Renzo picked up a map of the city which, ominously, showed all the walkable streets gone.
“Some of the poorer parishes have disappeared entirely,” he fumed. “What will happen to the people? And why doesn’t Bajamonte Tiepolo understand? If he makes the water deeper around Venice, then we are vulnerable to invading fleets. It is only the shallowness of the water that has protected Venice from being attacked over the centuries. Big ships couldn’t get in. Otherwise the Ottomans, the Serbs, the pirates, the … Oh no, I see, he wants our enemies to have easy access to us!”
Teo exclaimed, “And the ‘Incredible New Exhibition’ about him opens in San Marco that day! No doubt on an upper floor—so it won’t be flooded! He’s ready to rewrite history and already preparing the story! For those who survive.”
Teo shook Renzo’s sleeve. “Remember when we saw the tusks arriving at Ca’ Dario? The Brustolons’ eyes are made out of ivory, aren’t they? That’s what the tusks are for. The smell of sawdust—that was the Brustolons being carved. That smell of varnish around them—it’s because they’re not antiques—they’re freshly made.”
“And you know where the blood comes from, for their leeches? It comes from the Vampire Eels! When they’re done, and he’s put the leeches in their mouths, he sends the statues out all over Venice, to wait for when he has his strength back.”
“Then he’ll make them come alive, and not just for a few seconds either.”
Renzo stared despairingly at the calendar. “So we have three days to stop Bajamonte Tiepolo.”
The mermaids listened seriously as Renzo and Teo explained their flimsy plan: that the children of the gondoliers take to their fathers’ boats to hunt down the Creature and destroy it.
“We’re not sure how yet,” finished Renzo, lamely. “By night, obviously, but …” He ground to a halt.
It sounded pathetic even as he said it. How could three hundred inexperienced children overcome so much evil? And how could they destroy the Creature without making its poison spread over the whole lagoon, killing every fish and every mermaid and poisoning the water for the human beings?
The younger mermaids were not impressed. Someone shouted from the shadows, “Da Common Dog Factor is lacking here!”
“I am Afraid,” Lussa spoke gently, “the Ladies think that more Good Sense should be applied to solving this Problem. Your Stout Hearts are to be commended …”
“But?” pleaded Teo.
“More Help shall be needed. Remember, Bajamonte Tiepolo is not Alone.”
all through the night of June 11–12, 1899
The mermaids of the Seldom Seen Press were speedily set to printing a handbill that would explain the situation and the proposed plan, which involved “liberating” a number of gondolas from their posts by night.
Renzo explained, “I’ll speak personally with the oldest child from each stazio—every area of Venice has its own station for its gondolas, Teo. That child’ll be responsible for distributing the handbills secretly to the others in their stazio. I know! They can put the instructions inside the capitelli—those tower-shaped lamps by the jetties.”
“Will they believe this?” Teo asked. “Modern children can be so skeptical.”
Lussa said, “Lorenzo, I hope that Sons & Daughters of Gondoliers shall listen. We have always thought the Gondoliers believed in Us, even as Adults, for They pass so much Time in our Company, by which I mean, upon the Water, though We are not Visible to Them. Among Adults, only the Incogniti can behold Us and parley with Us. Of course, the Children of the Gondoliers can see Us, until They are Thirteen or Fourteen, when They lose that Capacity.”
“I’ll make them believe.” Renzo spoke fiercely.
Lussa had embraced the children’s plan, but she had added to it as well. Each one of the gondolas was to carry ghosts to the battlefield in the lagoon. It would be Teo’s and Renzo’s next task, Lussa explained, to go around to all the haunted places in Venice and explain the crisis to the city’s ghosts and ask for their help.
“Just ghosts in-the-Cold, of course,” said Renzo confidently. “We shan’t be bothering with the in-the-Slaughterhouse ghosts, will we? They won’t want to …”
Lussa replied serenely, “They should All be given a Chance to save Venice, and then afterwards, if We succeed, They too may rest in Peace.”
“How shall we find them all?” asked Teo.
Lussa smiled. “I believe You have a certain helpful Volume.”
“Actually, I have another one too. The Best Ways with Wayward Ghosts.”
“An excellent Tract that shall give You some admirably good Advice as to how to handle Them. One of Professor Marìn’s finest.”
Professor Marìn again!
Teo had one last question, one that she found hard to frame. “The ghosts,” she asked. “Is it possible that my real parents might be roused up too? … You know, to help?”
“So that you can meet them,” Renzo spoke softly.
Lussa answered, “Nay, Teodora, I am afraid not. Your Parents died with their Consciences at Ease. They shall rest forever in Peace.”
Teo bent her head so that no one could watch her struggle to absorb her disappointment. She muttered, “And …”
“Your Nanny Giulia also died at Peace, Teodora, and not in Venice, as You know. But the Little Children shall help Us—Those Murdered by the plague S
pores of Bajamonte Tiepolo. They are now among the Cherubim, and You shall see their Sweet Faces borne by Wings in the Battle. They shall have a Special Role there. And of course the human Incogniti shall help us.”
Teo picked up one of the handbills: Venetians! Foreigners! Remember 1866. Who can tell what will happen now? Not the mayor—he lies out of both sides of his mouth at once. Leave the city while you can.
Silence enveloped the chamber.
“But what was 1866?” asked Teo in a very small voice.
The mermaids raised a turtleshell and showed Teo heartbreaking scenes of a Venice almost submerged under fast-running black water. It swirled around the basilica, and made a dark turbulent lake of San Marco. The turtleshell changed to a bird’s-eye view of the flooded city. From above, the scene at San Marco was repeated all over Venice: black waves beating against buildings, people fleeing, their mouths open in terror and distress. The corpses of rats and dogs floated down swollen canals. Everywhere, murky water was rising and rising.
Renzo explained, “On November third, 1866, there was a violent storm, causing the river Po to flood. The surge hit Venice in the night, and filled the city with water two yards above the normal level of the sea. The water should have gone down with the next tide, but it did not, because of the wind and the floodwaters of the Po. Two more tides pushed in.…”
The turtleshell showed the aftermath: even after the water eventually sank away, it left black oil everywhere, shipwrecked gas-lamps, ruined houses. In the dismal light of evening, a solitary father, up to his thighs in water, carried his weeping child across the square of San Marco.
“Venice was crippled for months: churches, hospitals, homes. It took ten years to repair all the damage. Some houses could not be saved.” Renzo heaved a sigh. “Lussa, are you telling us that Bajamonte Tiepolo had something to do with that?”
“It was his first Attempt to get Revenge upon the City. He took Advantage of the Flood & the Wind. He had by that Time begun to exercise an Influence over the Creature in the Lagoon, purely with the Force of his Disembodied Intellect. The Creature briefly stoppered up the Natural Flow of the Tide when It wanted to Recede. Il Traditore could not keep the Tide in Venice for more than Two Phases of the Moon. In fact, his Artificial Flood served Him ill, because It drew to Venice the Attention & Sympathy of Humanfolk from all over the World.”
“Yes, the money poured in,” agreed Renzo, with a cynical look on his face. “And the politicians. And the scientists. With ideas on how to prevent it happening again. People like your adoptive parents, Teo. And big ideas, like a tidal barrier, in case of another surge. The trouble was, everyone had a different idea.”
“But have they actually done anything to protect the city from that kind of storm?” asked Teo anxiously.
“Nay,” replied Lussa. “For naturally, They are still at Loggerheads about how to go about It, Tens of Human-Years later. That’s Humanfolk for You. Many Sovereign Nations have given Moneys to save Certain Buildings beloved of their Particular Citizens. But there’s little Point saving the Buildings One by One if They are All to be swallowed up by One great Flood.”
Silence fell again. Renzo pointed up at the mortars-and-pestles, symbols of the old lady who had broken Bajamonte Tiepolo’s conspiracy back in 1310 by throwing a humble household object at his dwarf.
“An ordinary Venetian saved us once before,” he asserted defiantly. “Let’s go, Teo. We’ve got a Ghost army to raise.”
Nevertheless, it was rather slowly that Renzo and Teo climbed up the stairs to the garden of the House of the Spirits.
“We could practice our recruiting speech on the ghosts here,” suggested Teo.
“Good idea. If they don’t give us a fair hearing then no one will,” agreed Renzo. “These garden ghosts are only in-the-Cold, so they actually want to redeem themselves. It’s the other ones we have to worry about.”
So, to those Garden ghosts, Teo and Renzo gave their first performance of a speech that was supposed to rally an entire supernatural army.
Their first attempt was a humiliating failure.
The ghosts waited until the children had stammered to a standstill, and then booed them roundly. The ghosts complained about their delivery, nitpicked their grammar and jeered at their lack of eloquence.
“Venetians! The pair of you!” scoffed an old miser. “You’d never think it to hear you mumbling and fumbling and rambling off into the raspberry bushes! You must stay with your point! And you must above all impress us!”
“I am new at being a Venetian,” said Teo defensively. “Instead of criticizing, why don’t you teach us how to do it properly?”
The ghosts relented then, and for half an hour Teo and Renzo were drilled in all manner of rhetorical tricks. They were taught how to pause dramatically, how to raise just one eyebrow, how to lower their voices so that the audience would lean forward to catch every last word.
“And you, young Master Windbag.” The miser poked a freezing finger at Renzo. “Learn that less is more!”
Finally the children delivered a rousing speech, and the ghosts awarded them a vigorous round of applause.
“But will you help us?” asked Renzo, carefully economic with his words. “Will you fight Bajamonte Tiepolo?”
“Of course, you stupid boy, we were persuaded the first time. But you’ve more important and far more difficult ghosts than us to convince, and you must be ready for them.”
Teo and Renzo climbed back over the wall and out into the Sacca della Misericordia.
“Renzo!” exclaimed Teo. “Do you notice what’s missing?”
“The striped poles! All the boats are floating away!”
Not one of the striped poles remained standing above the water. The Creature had pulled all its tentacles down under the water, all the better, no doubt, to make its sudden concerted attack.
In three days’ time.
a quarrelsome dawn, June 12, 1899
“I’m off to speak to the gondolier children. Better you don’t come, Teo. I’ll see you tonight. For the ghosts.”
“It’s too complicated to tell them the truth about me, I suppose?” she muttered resentfully. “Who I am? Or maybe you can’t be bothered?”
“It’s supposed to be a secret,” he reminded her baldly.
“And you want to play the hero, saving Venice all on your own.” Teo regretted those tart words before she had even finished uttering them.
Ignoring them, Renzo said quietly, “And I must make an appearance at home. I don’t want my mother to get anxious.”
“Or your father …?”
“He died five years ago. There’s just my mother and me.”
Teo stared. “Why didn’t you mention that before?”
“Well, it’s not something I’d say casually, is it? It’s not as if …” There was a catch in his voice.
Teo swallowed. This explained Renzo’s seriousness, the way he seemed so much older than his years. He’d had to be the man of his family all this time. She remembered that Renzo had told her about his father’s bronchitis—the night the creature’s tentacles nearly took him. He had flinched when the gondolier passed by with that terrible cough. But he had not revealed that his father’s illness had been fatal. Even when Teo had discovered the truth about her own parents, he’d said nothing about being half an orphan himself. Until tonight, Renzo had always been so distant with her. He had shared almost nothing about his life. And she’d just been hideously mean to him again, driving him further away.
She said contritely, “I’m so very sorry for your loss, Renzo.” Seeing his face pinched and closed, she quickly changed the subject. “I need to study The Best Ways with Wayward Ghosts. It’s back at the hotel.”
“Meet you there when it gets dark? So we can start on the ghosts?”
Teo was relieved that he was not going to hold a grudge. She nodded and smiled. After so much time with Renzo, it would feel odd to be on her own again. He leant towards her, as if he was going to kiss her go
odbye. But at the last minute he jerked his head away, blushed and muttered gruffly, “For Maria’s sake, hope that I don’t bump into her in the meanwhile!”
It would be too awkward to walk with him down to San Marcuola now. Teo set off in a different direction, forcing herself to pause and look in shop windows so she didn’t accidentally catch Renzo up.
Eventually she found herself at the vaporetto stop, and inserted herself invisibly among the crowds of Venetians who poured onto the steam ferry. She chose a spot by the railings and stood there deep in thought. Had Renzo really meant to kiss her? Why had he decided not to? Was it because, as usual, she was a complete fright to look at after the night’s adventures? Was it because she had accused him of wanting to play the hero? How unfair and malicious she’d been! What would it be like if he did kiss her? Would she like it?
“I suppose that I rather would,” Teo conceded. And even though no one else saw her, let alone heard her, she blushed just as fiercely as Renzo then.
A shrill toot and a jet of steam announced another ferry approaching from the opposite direction. It was almost empty: just a few old ladies and a single child stood on the deck. The lumpy little girl, dressed in sickly pink and bilious green, clutched a crest-covered parasol. From a distance her whole body expressed utter dejection.
“Maria!” screamed Teo as the two ferries drew almost parallel. If she could have leapt over the water Teo would have done it in a moment, and grabbed Maria, and given her the shaking of her life.
As Maria caught sight of Teo, her face crumpled. A swarm of scolopendre was crawling all over her body. Maria seemed too deeply sunk in misery to try to swat the horrible insects away. But she screamed as a scolopendra buried its fangs in her neck. That neck was no longer delicate as it used to be, but thick and gnarled, like a dwarf’s.
Maria hugged herself with pain. Her hunchback was suddenly clearly visible. Her swollen eyes streamed with fat tears. “I’m so sorry,” she called out over the churning water. “Oh, Teo, you’ll never know how sorry I am. I’ve run away. I’ve got to get away from him. I wanted to warn you.… You’ve got to tell the mermaids.…”
The Undrowned Child Page 21
