The Shadow Lantern

by Teresa Flavin

  “He’s not in the gents, either,” said James, catching Blaise and Sunni from the corner of his eye and nodding. “I’ve looked everywhere – again.”

  “I told you, he’s not here,” said Iona.

  “Did you hear his two-way radio crackling at all?” asked Jimmy, the security guard, scowling. “I was calling him again just now.”

  “No,” said James. “Not a sound.”

  “Well then,” Jimmy said. “He’s probably just gone off to get ready for tonight.”

  “He didn’t say anything to me about leaving,” said Aurora, her eyes wide.

  “Maybe he forgot,” Iona said.

  “That’s not like him.” Aurora held up her phone. “This is the umpteenth time I’ve rung Lorimer and it just clicks dead on the other end. When was the last time any of you saw him? I know I’ve already asked you, but think again.”

  Iona rolled her eyes. “I can’t remember.”

  “Sometime this afternoon,” James said. “Don’t know when.”

  “I asked him to find Munro for me at about four o’clock.” Aurora blinked her green-lidded eyes. “And he didn’t come back. None of you saw him after that?”

  Sunni spoke up. “We did. In the Mariner’s Chamber, about four-fifteen.”

  “Really?” Aurora asked hopefully. “What happened?”

  “We said goodbye and left him there,” said Blaise. “He went back to lock the door for Munro.”

  “And I checked the Mariner’s Chamber at five-thirty,” said Jimmy. “Munro had just finished his last show of the afternoon and he hadn’t seen Mr Bell since he left you two talking to him.”

  Blaise gave Sunni a furtive glance. “Is Munro around?”

  “No,” said the security guard. “He left some time ago.”

  “Look,” said Iona. “Mr Bell will turn up for the party. After all the work we did, he’s not about to miss that.” She straightened her pointed hat. “Come on, James, we’ve got to fix some bits of my spider web.”

  As a few bursts from fiddles and bagpipes floated down from the Great Hall, the mob of costumed teenagers brightened up and scurried upstairs, leaving Aurora staring dejectedly at her phone.

  “What do you want to do now, Blaise?” Sunni asked, watching the other kids scatter.

  Blaise was sniffing his cape. “Does this smell bad to you?”

  “Kind of,” she said.

  Aurora looked over at them with interest and he thought, Oh no, don’t want to get caught up with her. He pulled the cape off and mashed it into a ball. “There’s a bin outside.”

  “Then you’ll have no costume.”

  “Like you said before, it doesn’t matter.” He strode down a gravel path towards the nearby stone cottage that had been converted into a gift shop. In one move he slam-dunked the cape into a large bin. “Why didn’t you tell me it stank?”

  “You needed someone to tell you?”

  He swiped the deerstalker from his head. “This is rancid too.”

  “Okay, are you done?” she asked. “I’d like to know the plan.”

  “I guess we go to the party and see if Munro shows up,” he grumbled.

  “And Mr Bell.”

  “I doubt that,” said Blaise. “Sunni, look.”

  A flickering light caught his eye. It was moving steadily through the trees behind the cottage. After a moment a bizarre shape in a long coat came towards them, its gauntlet-clad hand carrying a hurricane lantern in one hand and a cat in the other. The light played upon the tall stovepipe hat and strange spectacles with frames made from gears and bits of clockwork.

  “Munro!” Blaise felt a rush of relief. “Why are you out here?”

  “Blaise, Sunni.” The spirit photographer recoiled slightly. “You gave me a start. For a moment I thought a couple of new spirits were presenting themselves. Very convincing outfit, Sunni. What about you, Blaise? No costume?”

  “It was bad so I dumped it,” said Blaise. “But we’re really here because we heard Mr Bell’s missing.”

  “Yes,” Munro said grimly. “I’ve been wracking my brains about what to do. I think Lorimer went into the third projection but I can’t be sure. When I came back to the Mariner’s Chamber to do my next show, the door was locked and the room was dark, as I’d expect. But when I went to put my first slide into the Oculus, Corvo’s third slide was already in the slot and the wick was burned out.”

  “We didn’t touch the Oculus,” said Sunni.

  Munro’s lips were set in a line. “You’re certain.”

  “One hundred per cent,” said Blaise.

  “Then Lorimer used the Oculus when he was alone,” said Munro. “I should have told the security people hours ago but I just wasn’t sure. This looks very bad.”

  “What time is your Halloween show tonight?” Blaise asked, his mind racing.

  “At nine.”

  “Then there’s time to get Mr Bell out now. He can turn up at the fancy dress party and no one ever needs to know about the Oculus.”

  Munro gave him a half-smile. “I take it you want to be on the rescue team.”

  “Yeah,” said Blaise. “If you’ll let us after this afternoon.”

  “It would be pretty insane of me,” said the photographer, “and I should be the one who goes in. But I wouldn’t have a clue what I was doing – and you do.”

  Blaise grinned. “Let’s go then.”

  “Hold on. What about you, Sunni?” Munro asked. “I’m worried about your spirit companion making mischief.”

  “I know she’s about, but I’m trying to resist her. And she doesn’t seem to be able to follow me into the projections.” Sunni glanced over her shoulder. “I’ll go into the third slide with Blaise.”

  “All right,” said Munro with a resigned sigh. “Look, Blaise, do you want to borrow something for a Halloween costume so you don’t stand out?” He turned back towards the woods. “I can lend you a thing or two.”

  “Okay, why not?”

  They followed the path to a dark clearing containing a tent and an ancient hearse with blacked-out windows.

  “Home, sweet home.” Munro set Lexie on the vehicle’s roof and pulled out some folded clothes. “This will probably fit you.”

  Two minutes later Blaise emerged from behind a tree, dressed in a burgundy shirt with billowing sleeves and huge cuffs, and adjusting a black eye mask. He pulled a leather belt studded with silver discs and a large buckle through his own black trousers. Raking his floppy dark hair straight back, he managed a half-smile at Sunni. “Cool.”

  “Will he pass, Sunni?” asked Munro, from the shadow of his hearse.

  “Will he pass as what?” she murmured, staring at her friend.

  Munro tickled Lexie under the chin. “As a cowboy buccaneer about to embark on a secret mission maybe?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “More like Zorro. Thanks, I’ll get your things back to you tomorrow.” Blaise put his jacket back on and stuffed his shirt half into its pocket. “Let’s go.”

  In the Mariner’s Chamber, he took off the black eye mask and laid it on the bench as he watched Munro place a new wick in the oil. Nobody would be bothering them after the spirit photographer had told Jimmy that they were assisting him in getting ready for his Halloween show. And the door was securely locked against the hooded guy.

  “You okay?” he whispered. “Ishbel’s here, isn’t she?”

  “Yeah, she’s getting ramped up but I don’t think she can follow me,” Sunni muttered, batting at invisible fingers pulling strands of her wig. “Hurry up, Oculus!”

  “Ready?” Munro asked, holding up Corvo’s slide marked III. “I’m putting this slide in now.”

  When the chamber went dark and the shadow lantern beamed its transformative light, Blaise felt every muscle melt away, floating somewhere in the ether until he was ready to be rebuilt inside the projection.

  He and Sunni materialised in a tiny room with a narrow bed against one wall, lit only by a candle on a small table. He could barely
stand under the low-beamed ceiling so he opened a small door, outside of the Oculus’s light, and scanned the surroundings. With a finger held to his lips, he stepped out with the candle in one hand.

  They crept down a narrow wooden staircase by the light of lanterns dotted about the stairwell and peeped into rooms on the two floors below. On the ground floor was a long corridor with doors at either end. After trying the further one and finding it locked, they opened the other.

  Down a few steps, in a low-ceilinged room, Fausto Corvo’s figure stood like a sentry next to an arched door. As in the previous two shadowlands, he was still and unseeing. Sunni hovered at the door, partly hidden, and Blaise softly called out, “Greetings, Signor Corvo.”

  The figure bent into a deep bow. “Welcome to this shadowland, Your Imperial Majesty. It makes my heart joyful 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 the next chapter in il Corvo’s story. If you look carefully you will also find clues in the hunt for the three enchanted paintings he made for you. In a moment you will learn how il Corvo hid in Amsterdam in the spring of 1583 after he escaped from Prague. 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.”

  When he had straightened up, the double opened the door and swept one arm towards the dark world outside.

  “Come on.” Blaise hurried down the stairs and strode towards the door. But as he tried to pass through it, Corvo’s double grabbed his jacket sleeve.

  “You are not His Majesty,” he said, his black eyes flicking in the way Blaise now recognised. “You shall not pass.”

  “But we are friends of Fausto Corvo and we’re here to help protect the three lost paintings.”

  “That is not possible. Turn back and leave this place,” ordered the double.

  Blaise hurried back to the stairs and made great show of leaving with Sunni. After a moment’s wait he peeped out as the double walked out of the door himself. “Come on.”

  He put the candlestick down on the lowest stair and they bounded to the door. Outside was a black canal, shining under a full moon. No road or pavement, just water lapping against the foundation of the house and its tiny dock just above the water level. There was not one light in the tall row of buildings opposite, with their gabled roofs and arched windows.

  “Oh no,” Blaise muttered, catching sight of Corvo’s moonlit double gliding away in a small rowing boat.

  “There’s another boat,” whispered Sunni. “Let’s take it.”

  “Okay,” he agreed. “You got something bright we can leave behind as a marker? These houses all look the same in the dark.”

  Sunni clutched Rhona’s white cardigan around her but after a moment she reluctantly hung her white wig on a wooden post by the dock. “Can’t miss that.”

  “Great.” After a struggle to keep his balance, Blaise boarded the second rowing boat and extended his hand to Sunni. She dropped awkwardly onto the seat opposite him. “Make sure we don’t lose the clone.”

  Oars in hand, he pushed the craft away from the dock. With each stroke, the water glimmered and sparkled, and he began building up to a decent speed.

  “Don’t worry.” Sunni straightened her white gown, squinting into the gloom. Suddenly her voice came quick and edgy. “Another boat’s coming in the opposite direction.”

  “Who’s in it?”

  “Can’t tell, it’s too far away,” she hissed. “But the clone stopped rowing. He’s watching it.”

  Blaise looked over his shoulder and pulled hard at the oars.

  “Almost,” she said under her breath. “Just a bit further.” A moment later she whispered, “Now! Ease up.”

  Blaise glanced round and moved their boat in close to the double’s. He kept the oars poised and let them drift round so he could see what was happening.

  “You were told to go!” said Corvo’s double, grim-faced. “Return the craft and leave this shadowland.”

  “Sorry,” said Blaise. “We need to stay.”

  The third boat approached, slow and muffled. Lapping water and the bump of wood on wood grew louder until he could make out a solitary figure rowing.

  When it was close by, Blaise peered at the rower. The moon played on the man’s wide hat but his face was in darkness. As the third boat drew parallel to their boat, the stranger raised his chin.

  Sunni let out a cry of fear. When Blaise saw the rower’s heavy-lidded eyes and flattened nose, livid white in the moonlight, he tried desperately to keep his composure.

  “He’s just a clone,” Blaise said. “He can’t be real.”

  The rower raised one arm and flung something silvery over the water. A set of keys hit the wooden bench beside Sunni.

  “I am no clone.” Soranzo’s silky voice bounced across the canal and echoed from the houses. “I can hear your whispers and I see past your costumes, Master Blaise and Miss Sunniva.”

  Chapter 13

  Sunni’s insides froze.

  “We met in London,” Soranzo said smoothly. “In both the eighteenth and the twenty-first centuries.”

  “He is real,” Blaise breathed. “He knows our names.”

  Sunni was still quaking inside. Only a couple of months before, this man had made them prisoners in a garret of young forgers, punishing them for keeping Corvo’s secrets, until she and Blaise escaped into the desperate streets of eighteenth-century London.

  Soranzo’s voice hardened. “Our time together was… unsuccessful.”

  “Because we wouldn’t tell you anything,” Blaise sputtered. “And we never will.”

  Corvo’s double sat motionless in his boat, his face slack and his eyes darting wildly.

  “I shall find what I need by myself,” said Soranzo, glancing disdainfully at the double. “That husk of Corvo’s is worthless. See how our presence confuses his fragile brain – if he has one.”

  “He’ll only talk to Emperor Rudolf,” Blaise said, head held high as he kept their rowing boat steady.

  “I already know this, boy,” Soranzo sneered. “I know all about these shadowlands.”

  Sunni’s fear gave way to anger. “How did you get in? And how can you still be here?”

  “The same way as you arrived, I presume. Through Corvo’s glass paintings inside the Oculus.” Their adversary frowned and murmured, “In the year 1583.”

  “How did you get the Oculus?” she shouted.

  “No more questions,” said Soranzo. “Unless perhaps you wish to ask one of this creature.” He jutted his chin towards Corvo’s double. “Ask him where his satchel of paintings is.”

  Sunni and Blaise both stared at the clone, whose mouth opened slightly as his eyes worked back and forth. There was no familiar long satchel across his back. As she thought back, Sunni realised it had not been there when they had first seen him at the door.

  Without waiting for an answer, Soranzo said, “The satchel is nowhere to be found.”

  “Don’t ask us,” said Blaise. “We don’t know anything about it.”

  Soranzo took a deep breath in and out. “I have met a man called Lorimer Bell,” he said evenly. “Those are his keys by your side, Sunniva. He would like you to return them to Blackhope Tower. He will not be needing them here.”

  “You have Mr Bell!” yelled Blaise. “Let him go!”

  “Do not shout at me,” Soranzo hissed. “This Lorimer Bell means something to you. Then I shall release him.” He leaned forwards. “After you do something for me.”

  Sunni picked up Lorimer’s keys and held them so tightly, they dug into her flesh. “Why would we ever do anything for you?”

  “I had hoped to go to Blackhope Tower myself after we parted co
mpany in London,” said Soranzo, ignoring her.

  “Parted company! You mean after you burned Jeremiah Starling’s house to the ground,” Blaise said tersely. “And you left us to die.”

  “You survived. So did Starling and his young forgers. And I returned to the year 1583.” Soranzo’s boat drifted away slightly. “I planned to enter The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia through the labyrinth, which is still open in my century, but I obtained the Oculus instead. And I crossed the shadow lantern’s light into that peculiar Venice, then Prague and now this strange Amsterdam.”

  “And you’ve been here ever since,” said Blaise.

  “An unfortunate error.” As his boat drifted and turned, the moonlight highlighted a gleam in the man’s eyes. “I am surprised so much time has passed. These shadowlands must sleep when the Oculus is not in use.”

  “But you can leave now, the same way you came in. So why don’t you?” Blaise sneered.

  “You take me for a simpleton,” came the languid reply. “I will not risk becoming a skeleton the moment I step into your century. I know I can never leave this shadowland, but there is perhaps one last place I can go – the place where the actual Fausto Corvo hides with the three enchanted paintings. You will arrange it.”

  “No,” Sunni and Blaise said as one.

  Soranzo waved this away. “It is simple. The Oculus is now in the Mariner’s Chamber. You will return there and shine this Amsterdam onto The Mariner’s Return to Arcadia. Then I will send back your Lorimer Bell.”

  Sunni locked eyes with her friend and saw he was as surprised by this as she was. “What would happen if Corvo’s magic in one place mixes with the other?”

  Blaise muttered, “Maybe he thinks it’ll form some sort of magical bridge so he can get into The Mariner’s Return like he wanted.”

  “You dare to question me again?” Soranzo’s figure stiffened and he thrust his oars down into the water. His rowing boat suddenly veered towards theirs, knocking into the startled clone’s in his haste. “I know things that your small brains can never comprehend.”