The Painted War (13 page)

‘It's  …  people!' Bianca squeaked.

‘People who chose to be here,' said Dante, picking up a small candlestick that Bianca realised with a shudder was also made of bones. ‘I'm thinking about asking to be laid down here when I go. Wouldn't you like to become part of something bigger and more beautiful than yourself when you die?'

Bianca wasn't sure what was more chilling: the fact that she was surrounded by the remains of hundreds and hundreds of corpses, or the fact that she could sort of see his point.

Dante led her through a series of chambers, each decorated in the same grim style – but after a few of the rooms, Bianca actually did begin to get used to it. Bizarrely, the severed skulls with their empty eye sockets and permanent chalky grins bothered her less than the rows and rows of tiny finger bones, or the occasional full-body skeleton dressed in monk's robes, looking for all the world as if it was just pausing to admire a skull-cave before getting on with its daily rituals.

Bianca did yelp and grab onto Dante's arm as she saw something move in a chamber they'd just left. When Dante agreed to look into the room, he shook his head. ‘Nothing,' he said, shining his candle on the hooded monk figure in one corner, the piles of skulls and the ceiling decoration made out of broken bone shards arranged like a mosaic. ‘Could be the rats, but they won't bother you. They've got busy little ratty lives.'

Bianca wished she hadn't asked.

‘Now, this gives me the creeps,' said Dante as they walked into the next chamber.

There was no light in the room apart from Dante's single red candle. He held it up so Bianca could get a better view of the rows of marble statues – each one exactly the same, each one showing Duchess Edita with an odd smile on her face, reaching out for Bianca with one hand. Bianca jumped and cringed away from them, but they didn't move. They were just statues.

Bianca made herself approach the nearest one, and as she did shards of marble crunched under her feet. She touched the end of one of the statues' hands.

‘The fingers have partly broken off,' she said. She looked at the next one – it was the same, but missing a whole hand. The next one was different – what looked like part of a marble sleeve was still attached to the end of the fingers.

Bianca felt a chill run down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold air in the catacombs. She moved around to look at the statues from side on, and shook her head. ‘That's so weird,' she muttered. ‘It's the exact same statue the Baron gave to Duchess Catriona in the garden – but whoever was being embraced in each of these, they've vanished. Like they've all been smashed.'

‘Come on,' said Dante, holding open a door on the other side of the room. ‘I don't like to be in here too long.'

Bianca had to agree. She followed him through the door and found herself in a large chamber, brightly lit – for Oscurita, anyway – with white candles and thunder lamps, and occupied by six or seven men and women in simple grey and black clothes. Each of them was heavily armed, with swords and daggers at their belts.

And standing at a table in the middle of the room, deep in conversation with Pietro over a pile of documents, was Saralinda.

Bianca felt as if a heavy cloak she hadn't realised she'd been wearing had been pulled away.

Saralinda looked up and saw Bianca, and her eyes widened. Bianca took a few steps across the room, beginning to smile, trying to restrain herself from simply rushing into her mother's arms.

But Saralinda frowned. She stepped away from the table, shaking her head. ‘Bianca! What are you doing here?'

Bianca's steps faltered and stopped. The Resistance all turned to stare at her. A few of them muttered to each other.

‘You cannot be here,' Saralinda went on. ‘Didn't I tell you not to come? You are the last hope of the Resistance. If something were to happen to me you would be the only person who could get rid of Edita. You have
got
to take that seriously!'

‘I do,' said Bianca in a small voice. ‘It's an emergency!'

‘Oh darling, I'm sure it is. Come here,' said Saralinda, and she walked over to Bianca and opened her arms. Bianca rushed into them and embraced her mother tightly. ‘You know I'm happy to see you,' Saralinda said. ‘Always. I'm just so worried for you.'

‘I'm fine,' said Bianca. ‘It's Duchess Catriona who's in trouble. She's vanished from La Luminosa.'

‘What?' Saralinda gasped. ‘We didn't know that. Are
you
all right? Did you manage to stop the flood?'

Bianca nodded. ‘It caused chaos in La Luminosa. They're  …  they're burning lots of the magical paintings, and locking the rest away. If Marco and I hadn't seen the Baron drop his talisman in the canal  …  I don't want to think about what would've happened.'

‘I'm so sorry,' Saralinda said. ‘I tried to stop it when I heard what was happening to you, but we couldn't do anything to fix it from here.'

‘Duchess Catriona smashed the talisman. And then she vanished from her bedchamber. There was no sign of her, and nowhere she could have gone, just another talisman – a white marble medallion. We thought the Baron must have magicked her back here.' Bianca hesitated, not at all liking the blank look on her mother's face.

‘Pietro?' Saralinda asked, turning to the Resistance leader. ‘Have you heard anything about the Duchess being brought to the castle, or kept somewhere in secret?'

Pietro shook his head. ‘I'm sorry, Lady Bianca. We have spies all over the castle now that we're getting ready to make our move, but I haven't heard anything about Duchess Catriona being brought to Oscurita.'

‘We saw the Baron and his delegation coming back,' volunteered another Resistance fighter, a woman with pale blonde hair cropped close to her head. ‘We've got people watching all the entrances to the city. Belladonna's hardly taken her eyes off the Baron for a second since he got back,' she said, mostly to Pietro, who nodded. ‘We'd know if he had Catriona hidden somewhere.'

‘But if she's not here,' Bianca said, ‘where has she gone? I can't go home without some answers!'

‘I'm so sorry,' said Saralinda gently, pulling Bianca into another hug. ‘I don't know.'

Bianca took a deep breath. ‘Thanks,' she said. ‘I'm sorry I had to come here for nothing.'

‘Well,' Saralinda pulled away and smiled at Bianca. ‘Not quite nothing. I actually have something for you.' She beckoned Bianca over to one of the skull-covered alcoves. Bianca gave a small shudder as she realised that this was where her mother was sleeping. There was a bed made of rolled-up blankets and cushions, and on it were a sharp-looking stiletto dagger, and a sealed envelope. Saralinda picked up the envelope and held it tight for a moment, before handing it to Bianca.

‘What is it?' Bianca asked. ‘Can I open it?'

‘Not now,' said Saralinda. ‘Keep it safe and open it when you get home to La Luminosa. It's  …  Bianca, you know I haven't been able to tell you who your father is,' she said quietly. Bianca blinked down at the envelope and nodded. ‘I don't know where he is now – and he never knew my real identity. I just can't find the words to talk about it. So  …  I've made you this. It will tell you everything.'

Bianca sucked in a deep breath. ‘Thank you,' she said softly. ‘Thank you so much. But I would love you to tell me. In your own words.' Bianca folded the envelope away in her pocket and stared into her mother's glistening blue eyes.

Saralinda raised a hand and stroked Bianca's hair back off her face. ‘I could try, I suppose.'

There was a
bang
that seemed to rattle the bones on the walls and the door to the chamber burst open. A figure stepped through in a hooded cloak that swept around him as he raised his arm. The Resistance fighters yelled and drew their swords. The arm was holding a crossbow. Saralinda shoved Bianca down, hard, and she fell to the floor. The cold stone slammed into her hands and knees, and she looked up, under the man's hood, and saw the face of the artist, Filpepi. His eyes flickered to her, widened with triumph, and the crossbow bolt shot from the bow and ripped through the air over Bianca's head.

A second later Filpepi was down, wrestled to the floor by Resistance fighters. The blonde woman pressed her dagger to his throat and he stopped struggling.

Bianca sat up, bracing herself for a barrage of Oscuritan guards pouring through the door – but there were none.

‘How did you find us?' the woman growled. ‘Answer, scum!'

Filpepi let out a gurgling laugh, and pointed. His finger landed squarely on Bianca. ‘I'd recognise the face of my old
apprentice
anywhere. I didn't have time to call reinforcements before I followed you, Bianca. But it doesn't matter. Now  …  it's all over for your little rebellion  … ' he hissed.

‘Saralinda!' Pietro gasped.

Bianca turned around and saw her mother, leaning against the wall of skulls, blood cascading from the crossbow bolt that protruded from her chest.

‘Mother!' Bianca screamed, and tried to get to Saralinda, but somebody grabbed her and pulled her back.

Saralinda made a gurgling sound and slid down to the floor, leaving a trail of red across the bleached white bone behind her.

Bianca struggled and scratched. She had to get to her mother. She had to save her.

Pietro and the rest of the Resistance rushed to Saralinda's side and carefully moved her so she was lying down on the bed. Bianca went limp against the arms that held her as she watched one of the Resistance staunch the bleeding.

‘Let them work,' said Dante, giving her a squeeze and then releasing her, but keeping a steadying hand on her shoulder. ‘They'll do everything they can.'

‘Get Lady Bianca out of here,' Pietro said, turning to Dante. ‘Get her back to La Luminosa, right now.'

‘I won't leave her,' Bianca tried to say, her throat closing over the final words. She gave a huge, shuddering sob.

‘You must,' said Pietro, pulling away from her mother to kneel in front of her. He grabbed her hands and made her look at him. ‘If this  …  goes badly,' he said, and his eyes glittered with tears, ‘you are Oscurita's only hope.'

‘Bianca  … ' Saralinda called out, weakly, from behind the crowd of Resistance fighters struggling to help her. ‘Run.'

Bianca came to suddenly and sat up, disoriented. Where was she? There was sunlight on her face. She'd had terrible dreams that seemed to grasp at her and try to suck her back under – dreams of drowning, in a dark passage surrounded by nothing but bones  … 

‘Bianca! You're awake!'

She blinked, and everything swam into focus. She was in her own bed, in the palace, in La Luminosa, and Marco was sitting up in a chair beside the bed.

‘What happened?' she asked him. She remembered Dante helping her into the passages and she remembered telling him that she would be able to make it back to La Luminosa by herself. She didn't remember how she'd found her way back to the painting in Mistress Frazetti's house.

‘You came out of the painting at a run, and fainted,' Marco said. ‘You were out for a couple of hours. Did you find the Duchess?'

She remembered the crossbow sticking out of her mother's chest.

‘No, I  … '

Her mother was wounded, maybe  …  dead.

She leapt out of bed. Marco cried ‘Hey, careful!' and jumped up, just in time to steady her shoulders as the world swam around her head.

‘I've got to go,' she said. ‘I've got to tell Raphaeli what happened.'

‘You're not running off like this – you've been unconscious nearly all day!'

‘You don't understand, I've got to  …  My mother  … ' She fought to push down the tears, but it was no use. Her knees buckled and she sank to the floor. Marco knelt beside her and she tried to wipe her tears away on the silky blanket, but it was no use. She curled up tight and cried until she felt as if she'd cried herself inside out.

‘What happened to Saralinda?' Marco whispered.

‘She was shot,' Bianca gasped. ‘Filpepi followed me through the secret entrance, and  …  and  … ' She fought to get a hold of herself. Marco put his arms around Bianca's shoulders and hugged her tight.

Bianca had always thought she was an orphan, a foundling left on Master di Lombardi's doorstep. Not having parents had never hurt her before. It wasn't until she'd found her mother that it hurt to think about losing her again  … 

Marco let Bianca go, stood up, and then knelt down again with something in his hands – a white envelope.

‘What's this?' he asked.

‘I don't have time for that now,' Bianca said. She tried to get to her feet again, but found herself sitting on the edge of the bed. ‘I've got to tell Raphaeli that the Duchess is still here.'

‘Catriona's in La Luminosa?'

‘That's what my mother said  …  she said if she'd been brought into Oscurita she'd know.'

‘All right. Tell you what. You open the letter, I'll go and tell Raphaeli.'

Bianca gave Marco a suspicious look. ‘You're just trying to get me to sit still for a bit longer,' she said.

‘Fine, you saw through my cunning plan. You can run around as much as you like as soon as you can honestly say you won't fall on your face,' Marco said, pointedly placing the envelope in Bianca's hands. He stood up and moved towards the door.

‘Marco?' Bianca said, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. Marco turned. ‘Thanks.'

Bianca stared down at the envelope, as Marco's quick footsteps echoed away down the corridor. The answers to all her questions about her father were inside, but they suddenly didn't seem important now that her mother could be lying dead in Oscurita, perhaps buried in some secret funeral – a funeral that she could never attend. After all this, did she really want to know who her father was? What if he was already dead, too? Or if he'd left the city and she would never find him?

No, of course she had to know.

She opened the envelope. It contained a small scrap of paper and a larger, folded sheet of thick parchment.

Bianca read the note first.

Bianca put the note down. She felt almost faint with the knowledge that that might never happen.

Taking a deep breath, she unfolded the parchment.

There was a picture painted on the parchment, a simple line drawing in blue paint. It was a picture of Saralinda, though she looked much younger, perhaps nineteen or twenty.

Bianca almost dropped the parchment as the young Saralinda turned, smiled, and the perspective of the picture shifted to show her standing in a doorway, her hands held nervously in front of her, wearing a simple dress and carrying an easel.

It was a
storia.
The same magical, animated painting that her grandfather had left to her to explain the story of how he had escaped Oscurita with her as a baby. But this one showed a different story … 

It was night time, and Saralinda – in disguise as her father's apprentice – was standing near the back of a group of Oscuritan nobles as they were introduced into the throne room of La Luminosa. The pictures followed Saralinda as she approached the throne and curtseyed to the Duke. He gave her a smile that was so sad it hurt Bianca to look at it. But then his eyes lit up as something tugged on his sleeve and a toddler climbed into his lap. Bianca couldn't help but smile as the baby Catriona chewed on the Duke's sceptre and demanded to be bounced on his knee.

Oh, Catriona. Where are you now? Please be all right  … 

The Duke kissed Saralinda's hand, and the scene abruptly swam and changed.

Now, Saralinda was wearing a fine dress and a simple mask with the face of a cat. She was at a masquerade ball. Exquisite costumes flashed past her in the background. Saralinda looked around, as if searching for somebody. In the next picture, she was dancing with a man, and they were both laughing. His mask was a simple bird shape, with a protruding beak and a wide-brimmed hat. The ball passed in a series of glimpses, of moments. The bird-man held her hand. They sat together on a bench outside the ballroom, looking at the stars. She bent down to pick up his mask, which had dropped to the ground  …  and she gasped.

It wasn't the Duke. Saralinda ran from him, and he went after her, into the gardens. Bianca strained to see the man's face, but the picture moved too quickly. But he had long, curly hair that had been hidden under his hat until now. It definitely wasn't the Duke. Saralinda began speaking to him, holding his hands, shaking her head  …  and then somehow she was laughing. Saralinda and the bird-man embraced, and then kissed.

The scene changed again – a darkened chapel, empty but for three figures: Saralinda and Bianca's father, exchanging rings, in front of an elderly priest. Bianca let out a tiny, happy sound. Her parents had been secretly married! Saralinda was wearing her plain apprentice's clothes, and Bianca's father was in a simple doublet with a sword at his belt. It was so romantic, it made her heart hurt.

Another scene: the Duke and Saralinda, deep in conversation. The Duke listened as Saralinda talked. She showed him her ring. The Duke smiled and shook Saralinda's hands. He shook his head and his smile widened. He looked  …  relieved. He must never have truly wanted to remarry, Bianca thought. Her mother must have saved him from having to choose between his own heart and the good of his country  … 

And then, suddenly, Saralinda looked up. Joy and sadness mingled in Bianca's heart as she saw her grandfather, Annunzio di Lombardi, enter the room with a grim and worried face. He said something to Saralinda and her smile vanished. The Duke bowed to them and they both ran out of the room.

The final scene showed Saralinda, standing in the doorway of a painting, looking down at the ring on her hand, and then closing the door behind her.

The parchment went blank. Bianca sat back with a sigh.

It was so wonderful to know, finally, what had happened. How her mother and father had met, and how they'd been torn apart. But her father  …  who
was
he? One of the nobles? Several of them had very curly hair, but none of them seemed to fit the glimpses the
storia
had given her of the man's face.

Suddenly, the paint on the parchment welled up again, settling in the form of one final picture. A large and detailed painting of the rings her mother and father had exchanged. They were strong, simple bands with only one decoration: matching engravings of trailing ivy that wound around the inside and the outside of the rings.

Bianca drew back a little from the parchment, her heart beating faster.

That ring – she'd seen it before. She'd seen one just like it. But where? She shut her eyes, seeing it dangling in front of her, catching the light  … 

Bianca opened her eyes and stared at nothing for a moment.

‘Captain Raphaeli,' she whispered.

He had definitely had a ring just like the one on the parchment in front of her. He'd told her, that same day, he knew that good and bad people came from Oscurita. He'd even said he was there when some people had come through the paintings in the Duke's time.

Bianca frowned. Wouldn't he have said something, when she was talking about visiting Oscurita? She'd mentioned enough times that her mother was Saralinda, the true Duchess.

But then, he had never known who she really was. Saralinda had told her that.

But
, he knew she was from Oscurita, and he'd wanted to destroy all the paintings! How could he have done that, if he knew it was the only way he might one day be reunited with the woman he supposedly loved? He'd certainly loved her enough to marry her in secret, and to keep her ring with him even twelve years later  … 

Bianca shook her head. She was going around in circles. She would just have to find Raphaeli and make him talk to her. She would ask him outright – it was the only sensible way to get to the truth. If it wasn't him, or he'd found the ring somewhere, or he didn't want to know her or see her mother again  …  at least she would know.

There was a cry down in the courtyard, words Bianca couldn't quite make out, and then the sound of running feet and a clatter of metal. She leapt to her feet, and almost collided with the maid as she pushed the door open.

‘Oh! Lady Bianca,' she said. Her face was drawn and she looked scared. She bobbed a very short curtsey.

‘What's going on?' Bianca asked, afraid she already knew the answer.

‘My Lady, you have to come. The Dark City has started an invasion. We're under attack!'