He signalled to an a.s.sistant to finish cleaning the instruments, pulled off his b.l.o.o.d.y ap.r.o.n and led them to the floor below. The table had just reached the ground. A servant was waiting to remove the cadaver and its detached portions into a plain deal coffin, while a second held a bucket and cloths to clean the table. When these grisly tasks had been performed and the body taken away, Professor Angeli showed them a lever on the side of the table.

To Luciano's surprise, the whole top flipped over, revealing another dissecting surface, complete with straps. Tied to it was a large dead dog. Luciano thought he would be sick.

'Ah,' said Dethridge. 'For subst.i.tutioun?'

'We cannot always get the criminal bodies,' said Angeli. 'And then I take what I can get. But I always have an animal here, in order to make a quick exchange, just in case the authorities turn up.'

'And is this one an executed criminal?' asked Dethridge in a whisper.

'No,' replied Angeli equally quietly. 'I couldn't get one. And I need the bodies to be fresh. This man died last night.'

Luciano looked at the dog. And at Professor Angeli.

'Please excuse me,' he said. 'I think I need some fresh air.'

Chapter 18.

The Watcher Watched Rinaldo di Chimici's messenger was beginning to feel weary. He had ridden from Bellezza to Giglia with letters for the Grand Duke and now, as soon as he had taken some refreshment, would be off to Padavia. His master had told him he was going straight to the City of Words from Bellezza and the messenger couldn't understand why. They had been there only a few weeks before and he didn't see what Church business took his master there again.

But one good thing was that the Cardinal would be staying in the Bishop's palace, which was very comfortable. The Bishop of Padavia was Chancellor of the University and lived in a very grand style; even the servants benefited from it.

Of course the messenger couldn't read, in common with most of the people the di Chimici employed in this role. And even if he had been able to, he wouldn't have dared break the seal on his master's letters.

He might have wondered why young Fabrizio di Chimici's eyes lit up at his cousin's letter but the doings of n.o.bles were as far out of his sphere above him as the scurrying of ants on the road under his horse's hooves was beneath him. The messenger was just happy to work for such great men and have such a good horse to ride and fine livery to wear.

And he was glad not to be going back to Bellezza. What kind of city banned horses? He had been made to leave his fine beast on the mainland when the Cardinal took the ferry over to the lagoon city. And he knew that his master felt the same way. Of all the cities in Talia, this was the only one where horses were not allowed. Why, he had even heard that there were people within the City of Masks who had never seen a horse, let alone ridden one!

The letter he was bearing from the Grand Duke to the Cardinal needed the utmost secrecy; Fabrizio di Chimici had impressed upon him that he was not to hand it over to anyone but his cousin himself. In it the young Grand Duke authorised the planning of an a.s.sa.s.sination in Bellezza and the stepping up of a devious plot to kill another man in Padavia.

'Take this letter too,' he had told the messenger, giving him extra silver. 'It is for another of my family, Filippo of Bellona, who is also staying in Padavia. It will be easy for you to find out where he is lodging and I should like the Cardinal to be in touch with him.'

Filippo di Chimici would need no urging from Fabrizio to do everything in his power to entrap Luciano. He had sat seething during the Bellezzan's 'disquisitio'. True, his uncle hadn't been named but many people in Padavia knew about the duel already and, after the speech, many more would ask Luciano for the details.

The di Chimici took their family honour very seriously and to hear the black-haired youth justify killing his uncle had been a purgatory for Filippo. Since that day he had employed his own spies, to keep watch on the Bellezzan and bring news if he did anything, however small, that could have been seen to infringe the anti-magic laws.

But this was not enough for Filippo; he wanted to do something to provoke Luciano. He had tried to win his confidence and friendship and the Bellezzan had been responsive, but only up to a point. On the subject of the Stravaganti he had refused to be drawn.

'To my cousin, the heir apparent of Bellona, Prince Filippo di Chimici, greetings,' began Fabrizio's letter. After many flowery phrases commending himself and his Grand d.u.c.h.ess and expressing his wishes for Filippo's good health, in the manner of the time, he got down to business.

'It is imperative that we discover the secrets behind the Brotherhood of which we have spoken. There is some mystery involving travel to another world and it is vital that we discover the mechanism by which this is effected. There must be some spell or enchantment which they use. Study the Bellezzan, observe his companions. There must be something we can use to get him into trouble with the Padavian authorities. And if there is no other way, then take him captive and search him. It has been done before. Our cousin Rinaldo will be in the city by the time this reaches you. Join forces with him; there are things he knows about the Cavaliere.'

Ever since stravagating to his old world with Matt, Luciano had been restless. In the end, he decided to get in touch with his old master and personal Stravagante, Rodolfo. In his palazzo next to the Ducal Palace of Bellezza, Rodolfo had a set of mirrors, which he kept trained on various places in Talia, in order to keep in touch with other Stravaganti. Each member of the Brotherhood had a big cheval gla.s.s in their home and a hand-mirror when travelling so that they could communicate with one another, but no one had more looking-gla.s.ses than Rodolfo.

Luciano hadn't used his hand-mirror to reach Rodolfo since coming to Padavia, except once, so that the older Stravagante could see he had arrived safely a bit like sending his parents a text message. Now, although they wouldn't be able to hear each other, he wanted to see Rodolfo's face.

He took out the ebony-backed mirror and concentrated. At first there was nothing to see but his own face like phoning a number and hearing it ring without being answered. But Stravaganti were very well attuned to one another's wavelengths and it wasn't long before another face became superimposed on Luciano's reflection.

It was a wise face, lined by cares to look older than its owner, and framed by once-dark hair that was now nearly all silver. And it looked concerned. Without hearing the words, Luciano felt them forming in his mind.

Luciano! Are you well? Is anything wrong?

No, master, Luciano thought back, I just wanted to see you.

The face in the mirror relaxed into a smile and Luciano could see beyond the lines to the handsome young mandolier who had melted the heart of the last d.u.c.h.essa of Bellezza.

It is good to see you, too, Luciano. Arianna tells me your studies are going well.

She heard my rhetorical speech. I'm glad I didn't know she was there.

She said you stayed up late to write it . . . after you had stravagated.

You know about that? I had to, to help Matt Matteo the new Stravagante.

And did you?

Yes. He'd got himself into trouble, using a hex he'd learned about here. But he's put it right now. Constantin was going to go but if he'd been found out in Padavia it might have led to a search of his Scriptorium. Then they might have found the secret printing press.

I see. And how did you find the stravagation?

Rodolfo always knew what was troubling Luciano; it was a relief really.

I saw my parents, Luciano spoke-thought.

That must have been unsettling. Did you speak?

Yes, and touched and hugged. And they were upset, particularly my dad. I think perhaps I've been cruel to them.

And to yourself.

Well, I got a pizza and a shower out of it.

Pizza? Did it have a sheep's stomach on it?

Luciano laughed and saw Rodolfo's lips curve back at him. They were both remembering their first conversation when Luciano had turned up in Talia over two years ago and tried to explain twenty-first century life to Rodolfo. Luciano said then that you could get anything put on top of a pizza, even haggis.

No, it had anchovies and chilli peppers and olives and artichokes.

It sounds delicious. But it has made you sad.

It was a statement not a question.

It has unsettled me, master.

Luciano felt the long pause in Rodolfo's thoughts, at least the ones he could read.

It is a privilege to be able to return. Not a right. The dead do not return.

Only ghosts, master.

You are not a ghost but a living and vigorous young man. One who will soon be my son under the law. But you could turn into something no better than a ghost.

Master?

You, like young Falco, can live in only one world, Luciano. He made his choice and it was for your old world. You had no choice and this is the only world for you now. You cannot dip back into your old life for the food and luxuries you miss in this. And you can't just visit your parents whenever you feel like it. It would drive you mad.

That is what is happening.

Then I am sorry you went back with Matteo. Shall I come to you in Padavia?

Luciano was touched. Rodolfo would not hesitate to put aside the demands of a being Regent of an important city-state to come and comfort his old apprentice.

No, it's fine. I'm fine. The Dottore is still with me here. But I didn't want to tell him. He has his own sadnesses about his old life.

To tell him of yours will not add to his. Remember, you are both Stravaganti. He will understand.

After a second day of covering for the sick beater, who had been injured in a tavern brawl, Matt found himself spending Sunday in Constantin's Secret Scriptorium. The Professor looked more troubled than Matt had ever seen him. He kept glancing at the door of the secret room and in the end propped it open so that he could see into the larger room, though Matt couldn't see how this would make things safer.

'We have three more clear days,' said Constantin.

'How come?' asked Matt.

'Well, tomorrow is All Hallows' Eve, then we have All Saints' Day followed by All Souls' Day. The Scriptorium will be closed for three days, so we can work in here.'

Matt wondered how Biagio explained to his family why he never took a day off. Perhaps he didn't have one? He hoped Constantin was giving the foreman lots of extra money.

'Are ordinary people allowed to celebrate that?' he asked. 'I thought it was just the Manoush?'

'It is a three day festival of the Church,' said Constantin. 'There will be special services in all the churches and in the basilica. But the Manoush, if they celebrate at all, will do it in a different fashion.'

It had been only a week since the Manoush had come to Padavia and Matt had first met Ludo. During that time, he had seen him a few more times, looking far less colourful. Matt liked him a lot better dressed in black and without the ribbons. He wondered, as he worked, what risks the Manoush would be taking on the next day. And what had brought Ludo to the Scriptorium two days before.

When Matt left the Scriptorium for a short lunch break, he walked instinctively towards the Black Horse. And didn't notice a figure slipping after him. But that spy also didn't notice the man following him, who was wrapped in a black cloak and had reddish-brown hair. And Ludo was unaware that he was being followed by Enrico, who had somewhere found a feathered, and somewhat battered hat in his favourite blue.

'Pregnant!' said Arianna. 'How can he be?'

'Because he's a she, Your Grace,' said Mariotto, who was standing in the d.u.c.h.essa's parlour, looking very awkward in his stable-boys' clothes. 'I did try to tell you before. Florio is a female. I always said it was a daft name for a girl, saving Your Grace.'

Arianna laughed. 'Quite right. So you did. She must be renamed Flora. So that was why she was putting on weight nothing to do with my table morsels?'

'Seems not, milady,' said Mariotto sulkily.

'But this is splendid news,' said Arianna. 'When do you think she will have her babies? And how many? I wonder if it is like kittens.' She loved the idea of a whole litter of baby African spotted cats.

'I don't know, milady,' said Mariotto. 'Little cats take nine weeks but it stands to reason that a bigger cat will take longer. And we don't know when she got pregnant. We are working in the dark here. Perhaps Your Grace could find an expert on African cats?'

'Perhaps I could. I shall look into it immediately.' Arianna was already wondering what Rodolfo would say if she said she'd like to keep all the babies.

As Mariotto was leaving, he bowed to make way for the Regent, who was coming to see his daughter.

'You look happy,' he said, smiling at Arianna.

'My African cats are going to have African kittens,' said Arianna. 'I never realised they were a pair like that.'

'Are you ignorant of what Luciano tells me are called "the facts of life" in his world?' asked Rodolfo.

'No,' said Arianna. 'I think I am just very stupid. When did you speak to Luciano?'

'About that, a long time ago,' said Rodolfo. 'You must allow a father to be discreet about his conversations with a future son-in-law.' He was smiling, but Arianna had come to know him very well over the last two years.

'But you have spoken to him,' she persisted, going to the heart of the matter.

'In a sense,' said Rodolfo. 'He used the mirror to contact me.'

'And how is he?' asked Arianna. 'I had to leave him in a public place. And I was worried about him. He looked so tired and strained.'

'I think strained is right,' said Rodolfo. 'You know that he saw his parents and his old home?'

'No,' said Arianna, shocked. 'He worked all the rest of that night and said very little about his stravagation when I woke in the morning. Only that the counter-spell was successful and the boy Matteo cursed was well again. I was thinking more about the new Stravagante and how he must be feeling.' She looked stricken.

'I wonder if it was a good idea to send him to Padavia,' said Rodolfo.

'Matteo?'

'No, Luciano,' said Rodolfo. 'I don't feel easy not having him under my eye here.'

'Perhaps you should disguise yourself and go and visit him,' said Arianna ruefully. 'You might be more use than me.'

Rodolfo came and kissed her on the forehead.

'Don't castigate yourself,' he said. 'But perhaps that is not a bad idea.'

In Padavia, the game of cat and mouse continued, although there was more than one mouse. Matt returned to the Secret Scriptorium, still unconscious of his several followers. Filippo's spy loitered in Salt Street, waiting for him to come out again. He idled past the bookbinder's, looking in at his windows to pa.s.s the time. At the end of a very long afternoon, by which time he was jaw-achingly bored, he saw Biagio and Constantin coming out of the Scriptorium.

The spy made a note to tell his master that they had been working on a Sunday. That wasn't exactly against the law but it was unusual. He thought it would be only a matter of minutes before the printer's devil came out again. But time pa.s.sed and there was still no sign of his quarry.