“But I didn’t. I’m right here.”
“Thank goodness. So I own a painted glass slide that comes to life when it’s projected,” Munro said with a bemused smile. “I’m the one who’s gobsmacked now.”
“Maybe the other two slides are magical too,” said Blaise.
“Maybe…” said Munro. “I’m certainly going to find out for myself.”
“It’s easy to get in on your own,” said Blaise quickly, “but someone will have to help you get back, right? Like you guys helped me, blowing out the Oculus’s flame.”
“We didn’t do that. It blew out by itself. Sort of,” said Sunni, glancing over her shoulder. “But I’ll tell you about that later.”
“I’ll have to ask someone very trustworthy to stand guard,” said Munro. “The Corvo experts in Venice will be keen, I’m sure. Unless they demand to go in themselves!”
“Don’t you want to have a look now, while we’re here?” asked Blaise.
“I could, couldn’t I?” Munro murmured, gazing at the Oculus.
Blaise took a deep breath and avoided looking at Sunni. She probably wasn’t going to like his next suggestion and her stepmother would hate it. “Or I could go back. I know what to expect from Corvo’s worlds and you don’t.”
“What?” Munro put his hands on his hips. “Five minutes ago I thought you were gone for good. If I let you do that again, I’d be in such deep trouble…”
“It really wasn’t a big deal for me. I got back and I’m fine,” said Blaise in his deepest, firmest voice. “You told us about the inscription on the silver box because Sunni and I are ‘experts’ and you thought we could help, remember? Well, I do want to help – by finding out what’s going on in that slide projection.” Sunni was leaning forward with her head resting on her knuckles, strangely quiet. “I’ll be able to tell you everything you need to know.”
“No,” said Munro. “I’m glad you stumbled onto this but I can’t let you go back in.”
“I could come to your next show and just walk into the light again.” He knew he was pushing it but he had to get back inside the projection and see more. “Then it would be my fault, not yours.”
“Blaise, what are you getting at?”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, anything could happen.”
“I’ve said no, but you’ll go inside anyway?” Munro had one eyebrow raised high. “Then I’ll have to bar you from my Oculus shows.”
“That wouldn’t look very good, would it, when I haven’t done anything wrong?” Blaise asked. “Especially since everyone knows me. Sunni and I have special status at Blackhope Tower because we put this place on the map last winter. They’ve been swamped with visitors ever since.” He was amazed that Sunni hadn’t snorted out loud at this speech. Special status! They had that all right, especially with Shug and his cronies, not to mention Soranzo and his spies.
“You’re determined to do this, aren’t you?” Munro looked disconcerted. “What do you think, Sunni?”
Sunni lifted her chin. “I want to go in with him.”
Blaise suppressed a grin. She’s with me on this!
“I see.” Munro crossed his arms over his chest.
“You watch the Oculus and kill its flame when we give you the signal,” she said. “If something goes wrong, you can bring help in after us.”
“You’re very sure of yourselves.” Munro strode back to the scattering of matches on the floor and began gathering them into the box.
“Well—” Blaise began.
Munro put his hand up to stop him. Without looking at them, he busied himself tidying the Oculus’s table and straightening out chairs with Lexie trotting about at his ankles. After what seemed like ages, he took his watch from his waistcoat and said, “All right. I’m going to time how long you’re inside the projection. Ten minutes maximum.”
“But—”
“No argument. I’ll cut the flame at ten minutes,” said Munro. “Now get yourselves into position before I change my mind.”
When the projection appeared on the wall, Blaise led Sunni into the Oculus’s beam of light. Looking back, he could just make out Munro’s shape hovering above the magic lantern.
“It’ll feel weird in a minute,” he whispered to her. “Weirder than going through the labyrinth.”
“It already is…” Her voice faded as his transformation started. The last thing he heard was Munro calling, “No, I’ve changed my mind!”
But it was too late.
When her transformation began, Sunni’s heart pounded so hard she thought it would explode. But in the next moment, the pounding faded and her body was running on some different energy – if she even had a body any more. She floated like this until the drumming of her heart grew stronger and she was aware she had her limbs back again.
When Sunni opened her eyes, everything around her spun and she collapsed to her knees.
“You’ll be okay, Sunni.” Blaise was already standing unsteadily and reaching down to help her up. “Come on, get up quick.”
She wobbled at first as she took in the warm, torchlit world. There was a lot more in this projection than she had been able to see from the Mariner’s Chamber. Terracotta-coloured walls stretched high above them into a dark timber ceiling studded with rows of carved golden discs. Filigreed columns of ivory marble lined a grand arched stairway.
A figure in black stood motionless at the top of the stairs. The familiar profile with its dark beard and hooked nose sent a shock of recognition through Sunni.
“Fausto Corvo,” she murmured.
“Yes,” Blaise said in a low voice. “He was there the last time too, frozen just like that. But watch.” He cleared his throat and said loudly, “Signor Corvo. Greetings.”
The artist’s figure slowly came to life and turned towards them with lowered eyes. He took a deep, but stiff, bow and stayed in that position as he spoke.
“Your Imperial Majesty, welcome to this shadowland.” Corvo’s accented voice was toneless. “It makes my heart sing that you are here. It means Your Majesty safely received the gift of Fausto Corvo’s Oculus and his glass paintings. Il Corvo wishes he could greet you himself but he had to flee and hide from the villain Soranzo who covets his secrets. I am il Corvo’s double, painted and brought to life by his own hand and the power of the heavens. For Your Majesty’s pleasure and knowledge, I will act out il Corvo’s last moments in Venice. If you look carefully you will also find clues in the hunt for the three enchanted paintings he made for you.”
The sound of men’s voices and the crooning of violins echoed down from the floor above.
“What’s that?” Sunni whispered.
“You’ll see,” Blaise replied. “Stay still.”
When Corvo’s double spoke again his voice was stronger. “Your Majesty, in a moment you will learn how il Corvo escaped Venice in the autumn of 1582 and why he could not wait any longer for your messenger to arrive and transport the enchanted paintings to you.” He turned his head slightly as the voices neared, but remained bowed. “Do not be afraid of what you see in this shadowland, Your Majesty. Follow me, then come back to this place and you will return home safely.”
The music stopped abruptly and the voices rose. There was a distant sound of rapid footsteps thudding and sliding down unseen steps.
Corvo’s double finally straightened up and looked at Sunni and Blaise for the first time. At first his black eyes were blank, then bewildered. Then, with a grim expression, he flew down the uppermost stairs, his long cloak trailing. As he turned onto the landing, he flipped the cloak over one shoulder and leaned across the railing to scan the floor below.
A cluster of men in richly coloured doublets and breeches appeared at the stair head shouting and stamping their feet. The two loudest among them, a short burly young man and a sallow-skinned one with a scarred eyebrow, were at the front of the pack, scolding Corvo’s double.
“No one may turn his back on Soranzo like that,” the short one called.
; The double gripped the hilt of the glinting rapier at his side and said from between gritted teeth, “Go back upstairs, Zago, and tell Soranzo I will have nothing further to do with him.”
“How dare you!” the second man yelled. “After the generous offers he has made for your paintings.”
“I do not care what he offers, Magno. The three paintings he wants are not for sale. Especially to him!”
Magno responded to this with an elaborate hand gesture of disgust. “You will regret this. My master will not take it lying down.”
Corvo’s double disdainfully turned on his heel and galloped down the staircase, head held high. As he passed Sunni and Blaise, he gave them another puzzled glance and tore through an arched doorway leading to another hall.
Zago and Magno ran to the stair landing and hung over the railing shouting abuse after him.
“Now, before they get down the stairs!” Blaise clasped Sunni’s arm and pulled her across the smooth floor. Rooms and halls flew by in a dizzying blur of fire-lit walls, columns and arches. He guided her past a manservant unconscious on the floor and through a tall half-opened door into a dusky courtyard.
“He said to follow,” Blaise whispered. “But where’s he gone?”
They passed between two human-sized statues on plinths and emerged into a winding street in time to see a dark shape moving quickly in the distance.
“There he is,” she gasped.
“We’ll never catch up! Faster!”
“Blaise!” Sunni cried. “We only have ten minutes. Munro’s going to pull us back to Blackhope Tower soon.”
“So we have to move fast.” He sneaked a look around the corner, grabbed her hand and led her down the street, skirting the edges of buildings. The lane opened up into a deserted piazza by a narrow canal. “Where did he go?”
They walked in a circle, peering at the lanes that led away from the piazza.
“He wants us to follow but he leaves us behind? We may as well pick a direction at random,” she said, frustrated. “They all look the same.”
“This one.” Blaise jogged to the next turn and darted into a darkening lane studded with overhanging balconies and wrought iron signs jutting out from decrepit walls. They crept along until the lane was so narrow the houses’ roofs nearly touched each other and little sky remained. At last the buildings closed in and the lane became a dead end.
Blaise banged the heel of one hand on a wall. “Oh, great!”
“Yeah, wrong choice.” Sunni pulled her wavy hair back to let air onto her damp neck. “It’s been more than ten minutes. Munro should have beamed us out by now.”
“Leave the light and travel the shadowlands,” said Blaise, repeating the inscription on the silver box. “Sunni, we’re not in the Oculus’s light any more. Munro can’t see us in the projection.”
“Does he have to?”
“Corvo’s clone said to follow him, then return. We have to be back in the same spot we arrived in.” For the first time, he sounded nervous.
“But what if Zago and Magno are hanging about?”
“What choice is there?” Blaise shrugged. “And it looks like Corvo’s double isn’t going to show up, so let’s go. It’s getting dark fast.”
They set off at a brisk pace, silent and preoccupied. Sunni’s head was lowered, scanning the uneven ground, while Blaise marched a few steps ahead.
“Whose stupid idea was this?” Sunni muttered. “I should have known it would go wrong, just like London.”
Blaise’s head snapped round. “Oh, right. Are you blaming me?”
“Well, you made it sound so simple. We’ll be in and out in ten minutes!” she grumbled.
Blaise didn’t answer.
Something dawned on Sunni. “And you knew Corvo’s double was there. You saw him when you were in the projection on your own. But you didn’t say anything about it.”
“That’s why I wanted to go back in,” he said, stopping short. “But I didn’t want to tell you in front of Munro.”
Before she could reply, a sweeping black form bolted from the shadows, arms outstretched. With one curling swipe, it pushed Sunni and Blaise together and dragged them backwards. A powerful arm twirled her round and pinned her against a rough wall. She squeezed her eyes tight, feeling the attacker’s hand splayed across the base of her neck and hearing his hard breathing. He had Blaise mashed up against her shoulder, held fast.
“Please,” Sunni implored in a choked voice. “Let us go.”
The hand eased off her neck slightly. The assailant took hold of their shirts and pulled them forwards together. Slowly Sunni opened her eyes to slits and saw a shadowy man in a dark hood and cloak aiming a diabolically sharp rapier at them.
In a low voice Fausto Corvo’s double said, “You are not the Emperor. Whoever you are, walk before me, slowly and without noise. If you run, I kill you.”
Chapter 8
Blaise didn’t dare look round. The one time he’d moved his face towards his shoulder, he’d heard the hiss of the blade cutting the air in warning. The further they walked, down crowded alleys and over bridges, the more he lost hope that Munro would be able to find them, even if he brought help. But Blaise also remembered what two eighteenth-century thieves, Fleet and Sleek, had taught him in London about moving in the dark, counting doorways and squares as they passed. Left, then right, then another left, he noted, as they were directed through a maze of streets.
The double gave a low whistle and commanded them to stop in front of a dark building. He whistled again, more insistently this time, and a door opened.
Blaise gaped at the person holding the candle to guide them in. Marin. Though it had been months since he’d encountered Corvo’s eldest apprentice in Arcadia, the world beneath The Mariner’s Return, his blood rose as if it had been yesterday. This was the arrogant and deceitful young man Sunni had fancied and he was one of the last people Blaise wanted to run into again.
Wait a minute, Blaise thought as he studied the apprentice’s vacant face. This guy can’t be the real Marin. He must be a double too.
Marin’s double watched Blaise and Sunni pass into the building but showed no flicker of recognition. Murmuring something to his master, he herded them up the stairs and through a warren of rooms until they reached a large workshop with tall, shuttered windows, full of easels, tables and painting materials.
At the sight of the room, Sunni covered her mouth in surprise. Blaise recognised it too. The real Fausto Corvo had recreated this workshop as his hiding place in Arcadia.
Corvo’s double directed them to sit on two rough stools as he pulled off his cloak and hood and tossed them to his apprentice. He tapped the sharp tip of his rapier into the floor before them. “Who are you?”
“I’m Blaise and this is Sunniva,” Blaise said in a wavering voice. “We are friends of Fausto Corvo from the twentyfirst century.”
The double’s face showed no surprise at this extraordinary news but his eyes flicked slightly from right to left as if he were thinking it over. “I do not understand,” he said finally and replaced his rapier at his side.
Sunni, who had been watching Marin’s double in wonder, said, “We met Fausto Corvo inside his painting, The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia. At Blackhope Tower in Scotland.”
The black eyes flicked again. “I do not know of this place.”
Blaise repeated, “We are friends, not enemies.”
“You are not the Emperor.” From his jacket Corvo’s double produced a miniature oval frame containing a painting of a heavy-jawed man with a full brown beard. “This is His Imperial Majesty. You are not he.”
Before the double hid the miniature away, Blaise noticed a line of letters curving over the bearded man’s head. R-U…
“Who is he?” Sunni asked in a small voice.
Corvo’s lookalike ignored her and gave a sharp whistle. Doubles of two younger apprentices, Dolphin and Zorzi, hurried into the workshop, lighting more candles, lanterns and a small fireplace. Loyal and trusted p
upils, they quickly gathered sketches from tables and shelves while Corvo and Marin took framed paintings down from the walls, prising the canvases out of their frames and off their wooden supports.
“Sunni,” Blaise called under his breath and nodded towards some paintings that hadn’t been removed yet. “Look.”
She nodded, acknowledging what he had recognised as soon as he saw them – the three magical paintings that all the turmoil was about. They had witnessed the same paintings in Arcadia, protected by the real Fausto Corvo. He, Sunni and Dean had even helped the apprentices fight off Mr Bell’s cousin, Angus, to keep him from stealing them. They were much more than beautiful and strange pictures. For under their surfaces Corvo had painted signs and symbols in living painted worlds that contained all his magical knowledge of ancient civilisations. Whoever possessed them could live forever in any of the three wondrous underworlds endowed with the mastery of the universe. But Corvo had meant his three masterpieces for an emperor, not Soranzo or anyone else.
The first painting showed noblemen on horses travelling over a mountainous terrain, towards a distant city with a silver chalice shining in the sky above it. A dead stag lay near them at the foot of a cliff, with scavenger birds assembling above it.
The second painting was a landscape of a vast golden metropolis protected by seven concentric walls and abundant with flowering trees and springs. Each wall was painted with colourful illustrations of stars and planets, animals and plants.
Last was a strange painting of a lavishly dressed man and woman inside a temple with broad columns. The walls were covered with odd symbols and set with stones and jewels.
People have been hurting and killing each other to get hold of these paintings for centuries. And this is where all the fuss started, Blaise thought, with Corvo and his apprentices getting ready to take the paintings out of Venice in 1582.
When all the sketches were collected in piles and all the paintings taken from their frames, the apprentices bustled from the room. Corvo’s double took the sketches to the fireplace and threw them into the flames. Several fell to the floor and Blaise instinctively jumped up to retrieve them. After a quick glance he held them out, and without a word the double put the drawings straight onto the fire.
The Shadow Lantern Page 6
