by Mary Hoffman
Brother ?Benvenuto, friar of Giglia, now vanished
Matteo Bosco, printer of Padavia, now vanished
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Facts about Stravaganti
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Some do not have shadows
Luciano Crinamorte
Matteo Bosco
Brother ?Benvenuto
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Some have shadows at one time and not others
Luciano Crinamorte
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They come from the future or travel to the future
Vision of the supposedly dead Falco di Chimici at his own commemorative Star Race in Remora, cured of his injuries
Visit of Filippo di Chimici to the other world
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They use a kind of book to effect this travel
Luciano Crinamorte
Matteo Bosco
Filippo di Chimici
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They need to lose consciousness in order to travel?
Filippo di Chimici
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‘It’s not much to go on, is it?’ said Filippo, looking at the parchment.
But his cousin seemed excited.
‘We should have done this before,’ said Rinaldo. ‘It makes a lot of things clearer. For instance, we are not sure if they come from or go to the future. They might just travel to a world with a more highly developed civilisation.’
‘The place I went to didn’t seem very civilised,’ said Filippo, shuddering.
‘But they cured Cousin Falco,’ said Rinaldo. ‘Their doctors must be greatly superior to ours. Imagine if we could go there – wherever or whenever “there” may be – and come back with science like that.’
‘But Falco didn’t come back, did he?’ said Filippo. ‘Except that one time. He died in Remora and was buried in Giglia.’
Rinaldo paced the room.
‘But before Uncle Niccolò was killed in the duel – by one of our suspected Stravaganti, remember – he told me that the dead Falco had no shadow. He said there was something unearthly about the whole thing. He didn’t believe, and nor do I, that the boy killed himself.’
They were silent for a while, remembering their beautiful young cousin.
‘I wonder where he is now?’ said Filippo.
‘You died?’ said Isabel stupidly. ‘And so did this Lucien?’
Nick had tried to explain it to her but her brain felt as if it was suffering from information overload. And she could see it was upsetting him and Georgia to talk about it.
‘Don’t worry about that now,’ said Matt. ‘I know it seems incredible but you’ll get used to it. I’m sure you’ll meet Luciano in Talia. We all have.’
‘And if Arianna is in Classe, you can bet he’ll turn up there too,’ said Georgia. Her tone was casual but Isabel noticed that Nick gave her a swift look of concern. There was obviously a lot more that she didn’t know.
‘But why do you all go there?’ she asked. ‘And why did I? I mean, why me and not Ayesha, for instance?’
It was Ayesha who answered.
‘We’re not sure, but the talismans always seem to find their way to people who are unhappy,’ she said. ‘I suppose I’m just too normal.’
They were all looking at her now and Isabel realised to her horror that they wanted to know if she was unhappy and why.
Fortunately, the bell rang for afternoon classes and she was able to escape.
Fabrizio di Chimici, Grand Duke of Tuschia and Duke of Giglia, was pacing the grand salon of his palace with his little son, Falco, in his arms. It was his habit to talk aloud to the baby as he walked, which both child and father seemed to find soothing.
‘When you are Grand Duke, little one,’ he said, ‘you will rule more than Tuschia. Who knows what your title will be by then? Our family will rule over all Talia and you will be its head. Perhaps it will happen in my lifetime but, if not, certainly in yours.’
The baby gurgled appreciatively.
‘And you will be the handsomest, richest, cleverest and most gifted baby – I mean ruler – the family has ever known,’ said the besotted father, stroking the boy’s cheek. ‘You will be a patron of the arts and your many palaces and villas will be filled with paintings and sculptures of the first order.’
The child hiccuped and looked at his father gravely.
‘And you will be commander of a great army,’ added Fabrizio. ‘With a plumed hat and a sharp sword and a ceremonial uniform covered with silver braid and medals commemorating your great victories.’
A swishing of skirts alerted Fabrizio to the arrival of his Grand Duchess.
‘Let him be a little boy first,’ she said, smiling, holding out her arms for the baby. Fabrizio handed him over self-consciously. ‘He’s too small even to have a hobby horse yet and you would have him heading armies and winning battles.’
The Grand Duke looked on indulgently as his pretty wife crooned to their baby and nibbled his plump little fingers till he crowed with delight.
‘I know I am nothing but a foolish father,’ he said. ‘And I have many battles of my own to fight yet. But I do want him to have all Talia for his inheritance.’
Caterina was silent; she knew how important it was for Fabrizio to avenge his father, as he saw it, by extending the di Chimici influence till there were no independent city-states left in the peninsula. She did not feel the same way and would have been content to know that her brother and cousins ruled in half the cities. But she had learned in the short time she had been married – less than a year – not to contradict her husband on this issue, which had become an obsession with him.
‘You do understand, don’t you, Rina?’ he said, kneeling beside her as she sat on a brocade chair with their darling infant in her lap.
She turned her blue gaze from her baby to her handsome husband and felt again how lucky she was to have them both. They mattered more to her than the grandest palace and richest jewels.
‘Of course I do,’ she said, stroking Fabrizio’s hair. ‘But I’m not so sure about his being a soldier. I couldn’t bear him to go into battle and be wounded.’
The mood changed and Fabrizio laughed like the young man he was.
‘Listen to us both talking of battles and swords when our little angel hasn’t even got any teeth yet! Forgive me, my darling, but I love him so much and I can’t help thinking of how father loved his namesake, my brother Falco, and how he was snatched from us.’
‘I think of that too, Rizio,’ said the Grand Duchess. ‘And I worry that giving him the names of his two dead uncles and his dead grandfather will be an ill omen for him.’
‘Then let us call him by another name,’ said Fabrizio. ‘In the family let him be known as – what shall it be? – Vittorio, in honour of his future victories?’
‘Nothing so warlike,’ said Caterina. ‘I call him Bino sometimes, you know.’
‘Bino?’
‘Short for bambino, because he’s my baby.’
‘Well, you can’t call a Grand Duke and a warrior Bino, my love.’
‘I know,’ said Caterina. ‘That’s why I like it.’
And from that day Prince Falco Niccolò Carlo di Chimici, the future Duke of Giglia, Grand Duke of Tuschia and head of the greatest house in Talia, was known to all his family and friends simply as ‘Bino’.
The day after Isabel’s encounter with the group of Stravaganti, a Saturday, she went round to Nick’s house to meet them again. ‘He’s got the biggest place,’ Georgia had said, and that was the end of it.
Isabel’s mother was delighted that she had made some new friends and even Charlie was impressed.
‘Nick Duke?’ he said at breakfast. ‘The fencing dude?’
‘Yes,’ said Isabel. ‘But it’s Georgia I know really. And Matt – he’s Yesh’s boyfriend.’
‘I know,’ said Charlie. ‘You’re a bit of a dark horse. Those guys are all pretty cool.’
I can know cool people, thought Isabel. But she just nodded and carried on munching her cornflakes.
It was so cold that it felt as if it should be snowing. Isabel hunched further into her jacket and shoved her hands deep into her pockets, wishing she had brought gloves. She hadn’t ‘stravagated’, as she was learning to think of it, the night before. She wanted to find out a bit more about it. The more she thought about going to Talia, the more it seemed like a sort of extreme sport you ought to go into training for.
Nick’s house was tall and thin and he lived in it with just his parents. His father was out and his mother, Vicky, was teaching violin in one of the ground-floor rooms.
‘We’re up at the top,’ he told Isabel, leading the way up the stairs. ‘That way we won’t have to listen to that kid murdering the violin.’
There was a living room running the length of the attic, which seemed to be for Nick’s exclusive use. The others were all there, lounging on beanbags and drinking coffee. Again Isabel felt a pleasurable tingle as they looked up at her with intense interest.
‘Hi, Isabel,’ said Georgia. She seemed to have appointed herself spokesperson for the group. ‘Do we call you Izzy?’
‘It’s Bel usually,’ she said, peeling off her thick jacket and accepting a mug of coffee. She sat on a sort of squashy cube and warmed her hands on the mug. She was waiting to hear what they were going to say and didn’t volunteer anything.
‘Does anyone else know what you told us?’ asked Nick.
‘No,’ said Isabel. ‘No one else would believe it.’
‘You’re right there,’ said Matt. ‘We’ve all stravagated – apart from Yesh – and she knows it’s true. But anyone else would think it was just mad.’
Isabel had been wondering how come Ayesha had known all about this weird time travel and never said anything. Her friend saw her expression.
‘I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you about it,’ said Ayesha. ‘Matt and the others swore me to secrecy.’
‘So it’s sort of like a secret society, is it?’ asked Isabel, suddenly feeling perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea after all. Suppose it was some sort of cult? Then she looked round at the group. There was nothing sinister about any of them.
Ayesha had been her friend all through secondary school and Isabel had known Matt as long as he had been seeing Ayesha. Sky was just a big heap of gorgeousness that Isabel had fancied ever since she had laid eyes on him. But he had never seemed to have any time for girls until he started going out with Alice. But that wasn’t spooky – just a pain.
Georgia and Nick were another matter. Georgia was Alice’s best friend and up till now had always seemed to Isabel to be a hostile presence in school. She used to have an eyebrow ring but now sported a tattoo and multicoloured hair. Nick was two years her junior and yet they were an item and had been for some time. Still, he did look older than his age and he was pretty good-looking.
There was some mystery about Nick, though Isabel couldn’t remember what exactly. He had been an asylum seeker or something. So how come he now had parents in Islington?
‘I thought that Matt had got caught up in some kind of cult last term,’ said Ayesha quietly. ‘When some weird stuff happened with Jago. But it’s nothing like that.’
‘It’s just that more and more of us seem to be being chosen from Barnsbury,’ said Georgia. ‘We’ve become a – well, I don’t know what you’d call it. They always say “Brotherhood” in Talia but that seems a bit sexist because there are women Stravaganti there too.’
‘Like Flavia,’ said Isabel. ‘But I’m nothing like her and she is nothing like any of you. What makes us all Stravaganti?’
‘None of us know that,’ said Sky. ‘We just know we are somehow needed in Talia, even if what we do there seems to be a small thing. In my case it was a single word that saved Luciano, but Matt rescued him and a bunch of other people too – oh, and put out a city that was on fire.’
Isabel focused on the one bit that seemed to make sense.
‘Who is this Luciano that you all keep going on about?’
She couldn’t miss the ripple of tension that ran through the group.
‘He used to live here,’ said Nick slowly. ‘In this house. He was my parents’ real son.’
‘And then he died,’ said Georgia quite harshly. She seemed to want to get this explanation over. ‘We told you. Luciano used to be Lucien Mulholland, whose mum is downstairs teaching the violin. And Nick was . . .’
‘Prince Falco di Chimici,’ said Nick, getting up and making a bow. ‘From Talia over four hundred years ago. And then I died and came to live here.’
It all clicked into place in Isabel’s mind. She hadn’t known Lucien but she remembered that he had died. And this was his house! Cult or not, she had got herself mixed up with something very weird indeed.
Chapter 4
Luciano and Arianna
Luciano had no idea he was being talked about four centuries in the future and in a parallel world. He was practising with Cesare in the School of Fencing in Padavia and they were both sweating profusely.
‘Phew!’ said Cesare, taking off his mask and shaking his damp brown hair. ‘Isn’t that enough for today?’
Luciano was better at this than he was and Cesare always felt at a disadvantage fencing with him. It was different in the School of Riding, where he had the upper hand.
Their tutor nodded and they put away their foils.
They walked back to Luciano’s house, still breathing heavily.
‘It’s at times like this that I could really do with a twenty-first-century shower,’ said Luciano.
Cesare looked puzzled.
‘You mean you’d like it to rain?’ he asked.
Luciano threw back his head and laughed, shaking his black curls.
‘No, though that might improve our scent a little. I mean hot water pouring out of a sort of nozzle above your head and standing under it with soap and shampoo and getting yourself clean and fresh after exercise.’
‘Can you really do that in the other world?’ asked his friend, his eyes round with wonder.
‘Yes,’ said Luciano. ‘And even people with not much money can afford to have them in their houses. But it’s no good thinking about it. I’m here for good, and showers won’t be invented for hundreds of years.’
‘Couldn’t you invent one yourself, seeing as you know how they work?’
‘No. Even if I could actually do it – which I doubt I could, since I’m not a plumber or engineer – Rodolfo wouldn’t let me.’
‘Why not?’
‘Oh, you know what he’s like. It’s all about not disturbing history. Talia will get around to showers in its own sweet time. Meanwhile, we have to put up with smelling like foxes.’
‘Well, we could go for a swim in the swamp,’ said Cesare, grinning. ‘Since you were kind enough to put it back. But I don’t think it would be an improvement.’
‘No,’ agreed Luciano. ‘I’ll get Alfredo to heat us some water. We don’t want to end up like Enrico.’
They were both thinking of the violent events the previous autumn when they had rescued thirty Manoush from death by burning and Padavia caught fire. Luciano and the other Stravaganti had put the flames out by a spectacular piece of what Rodolfo called ‘science’ and Luciano considered magic. They had lifted the swamp from the south of the city and laid it over the fire, snuffing it out like a candle.
Enrico, the malodorous spy, had been surprisingly useful to them at that time and he was still in the city. He seemed genuinely to have transferred his allegiance from his old masters, the di Chimici, to Luciano and the Stravaganti.
In fact, he was hanging around in Alfredo’s kitchen when Luciano and Cesare arrived back from their fencing. The boys exchanged guilty looks; it was true they didn’t want to end up like him.
‘Greetings, masters both,’ he said, sweeping off his tattered blue hat. ‘I bring news.’
‘Oh yes?’ said Luciano. ‘What’s that, then? Alfredo, could you heat water so we can have a wash?’
Enrico tapped the side of his nose. ‘You kno
w better than to ask so baldly,’ he said. ‘How about some refreshment and reward first?’
‘Refreshment, yes,’ said Luciano. ‘Alfredo can bring us all some ale. Perhaps you’d like to talk to us while we wash? You could join us.’
Enrico looked horrified. ‘Why would I want to do that? But I’ll drink ale with you and welcome. And perhaps have a bite to eat?’
So shortly afterwards Luciano and Cesare were stripped to the waist and washing while Enrico lounged with a mug of ale and a plate of bread and meat, watching them.
He shook his head, uncomprehending. He would never understand the nobility and their passion for soap and water. In his view these items simply sapped a person’s strength. But he kept a safe distance, remembering how these two boys had once put him under a pump and forced him to wash.
‘Do you want to know my news?’ he asked.
Luciano and Cesare, wrapped in towels, came and drank with him, shaking drops of water from their hair.
‘Well?’ said Luciano, drinking deep.
‘It’s about your lady,’ said Enrico.
Luciano was suddenly much more alert but he kept his voice level.
‘That’s Her Grace, to you, Enrico. Mind your manners.’
‘Sorry, master. Her Grace, the Duchessa of Bellezza, is in Classe.’
‘Classe?’ said Luciano. ‘Whatever for? No, don’t tap your nose like that – it’s very annoying. You have information and I have money. Don’t beat about the bush when it comes to Arianna. Tell me what’s going on or we’ll have you under the pump again.’
Enrico sighed. People who were in love were no fun. They took themselves too seriously and forgot all the rules of the spying game. It hurt him to come straight out with information like this, that had taken him time and care and bribes to acquire. But he wasn’t going to risk an angry cavaliere, especially one with water to hand.
‘Well, it’s like this, master,’ he said comfortably, pouring himself some more ale. ‘She’s on a diplomatic mission with her dad – I mean, with Senator Rodolfo – to see the Duke of Classe. Taken him one of her cats, she has.’
‘Not Flora or Lauro?’ said Luciano.
