City of Swords Read online

  Laura stood hesitantly in the doorway, her nightclothes marking her out as an alien in Fortezza. She smiled cautiously when she spotted Fabio but looked alarmed that he was with someone else. Without Fabio’s knowing how it happened, Ludo followed them both into the workshop.

  ‘Ludo, this is Laura – a friend of mine,’ said Fabio. He could not think what else to do.

  Ludo bowed and took Laura’s hand in his; gravely he brushed her fingers with his lips.

  ‘I am Ludovico Vivoide, known as Ludo,’ he said. ‘And I think I know where you are from.’

  Laura had no idea what to do or say with this extraordinary person. He was glamorous in a way no real male had ever seemed to her, with the charisma of a celebrity, though he was apparently just an ordinary Talian.

  ‘You must find her some more suitable clothes,’ he was saying to Fabio. ‘Were you not expecting a Stravagante?’

  ‘I did not know in advance if it would be a male or a female who found the talisman,’ said Fabio. ‘I have a dress in my studiolo for you, Laura.’

  He thought for a moment, then turned to Ludo. ‘How do you know about the Stravaganti?’

  ‘I have met several,’ said Ludo. ‘Matteo, Luciano, Georgia …’

  Laura was silent, translating the names into people she knew at school – all except the mysterious Luciano. She had been told he used to be Lucien Mulholland, but she could barely remember him and certainly didn’t understand how he now lived in another world.

  Ludo was gazing at her intently. ‘Low-ra,’ he said softly, turning her name into something exotic and unrecognisable, as Fabio had.

  *

  Throughout Talia the news was spreading about Jacopo’s death. For most people, whether citizens or rulers, it came from messengers who had ridden hard from Fortezza in all directions. But for a group of Talians, the members of that Brotherhood known as the Stravaganti, the message arrived more quickly, through a system of mirrors which they used to communicate.

  Not all of the Brotherhood were men; there was Giuditta the sculptor in Giglia and Flavia the merchant in Classe. But in Bellezza a group including three male Stravaganti was looking into the mirrors in the Ducal Palace.

  Officially Senator Rodolfo Rossi had handed over the rule of the city to his daughter, the Duchessa, after the Battles of Classe. But, although he was no longer Regent, he still lived in the palace with his wife and it was in his rooms that the group gathered to hear the news from Fortezza.

  With the Senator was Doctor Dethridge, the Elizabethan alchemist who had started the whole business of stravagation, and his foster-son, Luciano, who had once been a student at Barnsbury Comprehensive in the other world.

  Arianna was also there, the young Duchessa, who was going to marry Luciano, and Silvia, the old Duchessa, who had already married Rodolfo – twice! They were a strange extended family but one who got along well. Arianna was leaning over her father’s shoulder and not wearing a mask, although all unmarried women in Talia over the age of sixteen were supposed to in public.

  And leaning against her was a large spotted cat.

  In one of the mirrors was the face of Fabio.

  The Prince is dead, he was conveying to the watchers. And the new Stravagante has arrived.

  I grieve for Prince Jacopo, Rodolfo sent back to him. A good man, a loving father and a fair ruler.

  Even though he was a di Chimici, thought-spoke Fabio.

  All in the room knew how implacably that family had pursued the Stravaganti – and not just because Luciano had killed one of them.

  When a man dies, we must evaluate him for what he was, not what family he belonged to, said Rodolfo.

  Tell us about the Stravagante, said Arianna, who was not as experienced at mirror-communicating as the others, because she was not a Stravagante herself. She could do it best when Luciano’s face was in the mirror’s glass.

  It is a young woman – Laura, said Fabio, pronouncing it in the Talian way, so that the first syllable rhymed with ‘now’.

  Arianna immediately looked towards Luciano. He had known all the other-world Stravaganti so far – at least by sight.

  He shook his head. ‘I can’t remember any Lauras,’ he said out loud, using the English pronunciation.

  And here is another thing, said Fabio. I don’t know if I should have prevented it but she has met one of the Manoush. And he knows what she is.

  Which one? Rodolfo and Luciano thought-spoke at the same time.

  He is called Ludo, said Fabio. And he seems to know some of you.

  We met him in Padavia, said Luciano. But it is too long a tale to tell now.

  Did he say what he was doing in Fortezza?

  No, but I have met him twice. And he seems to have taken to Laura.

  Were there others with him? asked Rodolfo.

  Not that I have seen. He seems to have travelled alone.

  That is very unusual for a Manoush, said Rodolfo.

  And soon afterwards the communication through the mirrors was cut off.

  ‘What do you make of all that?’ asked Silvia as they moved away from the mirrors and dispersed themselves around the room. Luciano was now standing with his hand on the back of Arianna’s chair and the great spotted cat lay at her feet and yawned.

  Rodolfo frowned. ‘I don’t know what to make of it. Fabio told me before that his divinations showed trouble in Fortezza but I don’t see why there should be any. Princess Lucia is Jacopo’s heir and there is no reason to suppose the di Chimici won’t continue to rule in that city.’

  He turned to Luciano’s foster-father. ‘What do you think, Maestro?’ he asked.

  ‘Nay, Maistre Rudolphe,’ said the old alchemist. ‘There is on the surface no need for fear. But whenne did the cards and the stones ever notte tell us true? Mayhap there are thynges we do notte knowe as yet.’

  ‘Well, if there is no immediate danger and you don’t all have to go haring off to Fortezza, there is something else we should talk about,’ said Silvia.

  Several pairs of eyes gave her a wary look.

  ‘Arianna and Luciano’s wedding,’ she said firmly. ‘We don’t need to postpone it because a di Chimici prince has died, I should hope. But we do need to invite rulers or representatives of all the city-states. The question is, do we have to ask the Grand Duke?’

  ‘I hardly think he’d come, Silvia,’ said Luciano. ‘Remember he has a warrant out for my arrest.’

  ‘But will he see it as a further slight if we don’t invite him?’ said Silvia.

  ‘Can you give someone a worse slight than killing their father?’ asked Luciano.

  And something in his tone of voice made the great cat growl.

  ‘Well?’ said Isabel as she met Laura on the way to school next day. They had done this all the years they could remember at secondary school and then met up with Ayesha a road or two further on.

  ‘I did it again,’ said Laura, as if still half in Talia, ‘and Fabio gave me an old dress that belonged to his wife.’

  ‘He has a wife?’

  ‘Had one. She is dead,’ said Laura.

  ‘So, what else happened?’

  ‘I met this man,’ said Laura.

  ‘Yes, you said – Fabio,’ said Isabel. She was wondering if Laura was quite all right. Maybe the stravagating had unhinged her a bit? She always seemed rather fragile.

  ‘No, not him. Another one,’ she said. ‘He’s called Ludo and he’s … well, I can’t describe him. He’s not like anyone I’ve ever met before.’

  Isabel groaned to herself. Laura was going to fall in love with a Talian; she just knew it. And there was no way that could end well.

  Chapter 3

  Beware the Heir

  Jacopo’s funeral was held with great magnificence at the cathedral in Fortezza four days after his death. His coffin was carried by four of his younger relatives: Fabrizio and Gaetano from Giglia, Alfonso of Volana and Filippo of Bellona, and two of his most loyal household servants.

  Another family
member, the Pope, Ferdinando di Chimici, conducted the service, with Cardinal Rinaldo di Chimici and the Bishop of Fortezza assisting.

  Laura was with the crowd outside the cathedral and had all these nobles pointed out to her by Fabio. She was quite used to finding herself in Fortezza each night now, wearing the blue dress of the swordsmith’s late wife. Only of course in Talia it was day.

  ‘The Pope is very fat, isn’t he?’ she whispered to Fabio.

  ‘He has a reputation for liking his own table as much as the Lord’s,’ Fabio whispered back.

  Princess Carolina and her two daughters were easily recognised in their deep black mourning dresses.

  ‘It’s only a matter of weeks since Princess Lucia has been out of black for her husband,’ said Fabio.

  Laura looked with some interest at the pale young woman with red hair. Ever since she had become a member of the Barnsbury Stravaganti group, Laura had been hearing about the massacre at the di Chimici weddings in Giglia, which had happened in a place just as sacred as this cathedral – the church where the four brides and grooms had gone for a blessing just after they were married.

  Bianca, Princess Lucia’s dark-haired sister, was married to Duke Alfonso, one of the men carrying the immense coffin. Two of the other young men bearing the burden beside him had been seriously wounded in the massacre; it was their brother, Carlo, Lucia’s husband, who had been killed.

  Nick had given Laura a copy of the di Chimici family tree to study at her leisure, because no Stravagante was allowed to take anything other than his or her talisman to the other world. And she had forced herself to accept that Nick himself had once been Prince Falco, the youngest brother of the three di Chimici who had been attacked at the weddings.

  Laura could see the family resemblance between Nick and some of the young di Chimici princes and dukes – but not to the fat Pope and the skinny Cardinal. She had kept a special lookout for Gaetano, who was Nick’s favourite brother and a friend to the Stravaganti of both worlds, but he didn’t look a bit like the Barnsbury school student. Gaetano had a kind face but no one would call him handsome.

  There was no room for Laura and Fabio to get inside the cathedral, so great was the throng of mourners, so the swordsmith offered to take her on a tour of the city while the long service unfolded inside.

  They walked out from the centre and climbed some steep steps up to the top of the massive walls that encircled the city. When they got there, Laura gasped.

  The wall was so wide you could have driven two cars side by side along its top. But of course there were no cars in Talia.

  ‘It’s big enough for … for two carriages to pass!’ She tried to convey her wonder to Fabio.

  He looked at her as if she were mad.

  ‘How would even one carriage get up the steps?’ he asked. ‘Not to mention the horses.’

  Laura tried to suppress the giggle that was rising in her throat and walked across the grassy surface to the edge of the wall. There were crenellations running all round it, at head height, so that she had to stand almost on tiptoe to look over to see the Tuschian countryside beyond.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘I haven’t been to Italy in my world but it can’t be better than this.’

  What she could see was rounded hills topped with cypresses, and green valleys running down to blue winding rivers. The landscape was a patchwork of small fields criss-crossed with green rows of crops.

  ‘We haven’t got time to walk all the way round the walls if you want to see the mourners coming out of the cathedral,’ said Fabio.

  It was peaceful up there above the bustle of the city and Laura felt a strange reluctance ever to come down. She could see the roof of the cathedral, the tower of the castle and many other high points of the city as clearly as if in an aerial photograph, something no one in Fortezza would understand even if they could see one. She wondered why the city had to have such strong walls when no one was waging war against it, and when they had last been used to defend it.

  Fabio walked with her to the next defensive tower, which was like something out of medieval legend – round with arrow-slit windows and a turreted top. But there was also a gun emplacement with a shiny new cannon and a pile of cannonballs.

  ‘Are you expecting an attack?’ Laura asked.

  ‘Not that I know of,’ said Fabio, ‘but the city is always ready.’

  The two guards in the tower didn’t look terribly ready; in fact, it looked as if they were asleep.

  The Stravaganti walked down the winding stair inside the tower and back out into the bright sunshine of the city streets. Fabio had told Laura about not having a shadow in Talia, and the Barnsbury Stravaganti had confirmed it had been the same for them, but it was still unnerving to see only one black silhouette stretched out at their feet.

  ‘What happens after the funeral?’ said Laura.

  ‘Once the body of the Prince has been committed to the great di Chimici tomb in the crypt, the family party will go back to the castle and the inheritance announcement will be made.’

  *

  ‘I must get back to Padavia,’ said Luciano. He had already stayed in Bellezza longer than he had meant to and couldn’t really prolong the absence from his studies any longer.

  ‘Not long now,’ said Arianna.

  They were in her private parlour with no one else present but Rigello the African cat. He was snoozing beside the sofa, quite used to the Cavaliere’s presence. He didn’t even open an eye when Luciano embraced his mistress.

  ‘A month!’ said Luciano. ‘I can’t believe we shall be married in just over four weeks. We seem to have been waiting for ever.’

  ‘Well, nothing’s going to stop us now,’ said Arianna, smiling.

  ‘Hush,’ said Luciano. ‘We used to say in my old world “famous last words” whenever someone said anything like that.’

  ‘I don’t know what that means,’ said Arianna, ‘but I don’t like the sound of it.’

  As if on cue, there was a knock on the door, and Rodolfo came in looking very serious.

  *

  Laura and Fabio followed the mourners from the cathedral up the winding road to the castle. As they walked, Laura marvelled at how quickly she had got used to Fortezza, with its cobbled streets, shuttered windows and no cars.

  At first she had been alarmed by the number of horses clattering by, but even they seemed as normal now as a Volvo in Islington. There was no pollution from traffic fumes and she could hear the song of birds and cicadas as a constant background to the life of the city. It was so different from her daily life in her own world and yet, after less than a week, it had already become as familiar to her as if she had known it for years.

  The castle was absurdly castle-y – like something Laura might have made up for herself in a dream. It was as unlike anything in Disneyland as possible – made of real huge grey stone blocks. It backed on to another section of the massive circular walls of the city, making an impregnable-seeming bastion.

  The funeral cortège entered the looming castle, where the Fortezzan flag still drooped at half mast.

  ‘Now it won’t be long before they make the announcement,’ said Fabio.

  ‘Won’t they have some sort of … I don’t know … wake for the Prince first?’ asked Laura.

  ‘No, they’ll do that afterwards. Mind you, there are not many people who remember the last time an heir was announced. Jacopo has been our Prince for twentysix years.’

  Laura wondered how long people lived for in Talia.

  ‘How old was he?’ she asked.

  ‘Oh, quite old,’ said Fabio. ‘Fifty-three years.’

  That’s only six years older than my mum, thought Laura.

  ‘Look!’ said Fabio. ‘That’s the herald on the balcony. The family will be out soon.’

  A man in Fortezzan livery with a long silver trumpet stepped up to the front of the balcony and blew a few mournful notes. Then there was a long pause, while all the citizens gathered below shuffled their
feet and muttered to each other.

  At last the trio of princesses dressed in black came out on to the balcony to stand beside the herald. He blew one note to call people to order, though the crowd was already silent, then put down his instrument and read aloud from a roll of parchment:

  ‘We the citizens of the great city of Fortezza in the region of Tuschia, in the country of Talia, grieve at the death of Prince Jacopo Falco Ferdinando di Chimici, ruler of us all for nearly thirty years. We mourn his passing and we extend our deepest sympathy to his widow, the Dowager Princess Carolina, and his two daughters, Princess Lucia and Bianca, Duchessa of Volana.’

  There was much appreciative murmuring in the crowd. These were the right words at the right time.

  ‘We also share in the sadness of Prince Jacopo’s wider family, many members of which have joined us at the Prince’s obsequies today – foremost among them Fabrizio di Chimici, Grand Duke of Tuschia and Duke of Giglia.’

  That’s the one who wants to kill Luciano, thought Laura. Luciano, who used to be a boy called Lucien at my school. This is too weird.

  ‘Prince Jacopo was like a father to us, his subjects,’ the herald continued. ‘But he has not left us orphans. We are fortunate that he has an heir – the Princess Lucia, who will take on his role and become in time like our mother. We owe her our allegiance, loyalty and respect.’

  There was a ragged cheer from the crowd.

  ‘It is now my duty, in accordance with tradition and the wishes of the Council, to announce most solemnly that Princess Lucia di Chimici will become the ruler of Fortezza in her father’s stead unless there is any rival claimant to the title.

  ‘Hear ye, this is the only opportunity at which such a claimant may come forward, for after today the title passes to Princess Lucia in right and blood through her inheritance as older child of her father, our late Prince.’

  The herald drew a much-needed breath, and blew another loud note on the trumpet. There was a hush as if everyone in the crowd held their breath.

  ‘Of course, it’s a formality,’ whispered Fabio. ‘There is no one else with a claim.’

  And then a surprising figure stepped out of the crowd. Laura gasped. It was the Manoush called Ludo.