The Painted War (9 page)

Captain Raphaeli's eyes flashed with understanding and he nodded at Bianca.

Bianca turned to the Duchess. ‘We saw him do it,' she said, feeling slightly sick. ‘When we were tailing him yesterday, we saw him drop something in the canal, off the Bridge of Cats. We didn't see what it was – nothing seemed to happen.'

‘It's true,' said Raphaeli. ‘Oscurita has struck the first blow against us. We must be prepared for the second.'

Duchess Catriona looked like she might throw something, then she nodded. ‘All right. First,' she said, ‘we must remove the most vulnerable citizens to buildings without any magical paintings, and we have to collect the paintings together to minimise the damage.' She sighed, and looked from Raphaeli to Franco to Bianca. ‘And then  … ?'

‘Their only way to attack us is through the paintings,' said Raphaeli. ‘We have to be prepared for this. Identify
all
the paintings in the city, and make sure we're ready to defend ourselves. I've already posted guards at each of the murals in the palace.'

‘But that won't stop the flooding,' said Duchess Catriona. ‘And it could take days. I think we need to consider dredging the canal. Perhaps we can find whatever the Baron dropped in and  …  turn it off.'

‘Dredge the canal, while the whole city is draining away into it?' said Secretary Franco. ‘You'll never manage it.'

Bianca stood up. ‘I'm just going to get some air,' she told the Duchess. Catriona nodded, and turned her attention back to her advisors. Bianca slipped out of the room, her feet squelching on the cold, wet rug, and closed the door behind her. She started walking towards the stairs, but soon found herself half running, kicking up sprays of muddy water as she went.

She couldn't just sit in the palace and debate strategy. The Baron had done this, and then he'd vanished back to Oscurita. There had to be a painting somewhere she could get through. She would go to Oscurita, find the Baron and make him pay for destroying the art that Bianca, and her grandfather, had devoted their lives to.

The stairs were treacherously slippery and Bianca clung onto the banister as she made her way down. She passed servants carrying dripping paintings on their backs as she headed for the Duchess's rooms. She thought that she could get into the passages through the painting of the balcony. It was painted onto the wall, so they couldn't have taken it away. But when she splashed through the door she found a guard standing in front of the mural.

Where could she find a mural that hadn't been found by Raphaeli and put under guard?

Even though every door and window and drain had been opened wide to allow the water to flow out of the palace and into the canal, the entrance hall and the courtyard were knee-deep in water by the time Bianca got there. She couldn't look at the great line of paintings, leaning against each other with their bottom few feet sitting in the water and getting more and more ruined. Instead she followed the tide across the courtyard and the small, roiling river of water out of the main gates and over to the Grand Canal. Someone had managed to set up a line of sandbags across the bridge so that most of the water from the palace flowed into the canal. Bianca clambered over the sandbags onto the dry part of the bridge and stood wringing out her skirt. She could see the Bridge of Cats from here, with its black marble panthers, swarms of feral cats perching on the few dry spots. She clenched her fists. If she could swim, she would dive down herself right now, and try to find what the Baron had dropped  … 

Then she saw something. There was an unguarded mural down on the bank, on the outside wall of one of the buildings. She'd never really seen it before, or if she had she might have assumed it wasn't magical, but she was sure she could see something wet glistening on the wall and the narrow path between it and the canal.

She hurried across the bridge and down the steps to the street to get a closer look. The mural was dim and cracked with age, and what magic it had wasn't very strong. It was a painted archway through which Bianca could glimpse beautiful flowers and trees in bloom, and a door that was supposed to look like a back entrance to the building the mural was painted on. But a thin trickle of water was seeping from under the door and wending its way across the path and into the canal.

Bianca stepped up and pulled the paintbrush key from her pocket, whispering the magic words as she did so: ‘Hidden rooms, secret passages, second city.' The key folded out from the handle and she slipped it into the keyhole in the mural and turned it. As she put the brush back in her pocket she looked down at the thin stream of water again. Hopefully, this door would be further from the source of the water. She would be able to get inside, and once she was in she could find her way to Oscurita.

And then?
asked a nagging voice in Bianca's mind.

And then I find the Baron and stop him
, she thought.
Somehow. No matter what. There's nothing else I can do here
.

She tugged on the door, bracing herself for a small flood of water over her feet, but it seemed to be stuck – perhaps from so many years of its paint being out in all weathers. Bianca took hold of the handle in a firm grip and pulled hard, and then pulled harder.

The door burst open and a wall of water hit Bianca square in the face. She threw up her hands and squeezed her eyes shut against the onslaught, but it got into her nose and ears and she couldn't breathe or see. She staggered back towards the canal, tried to catch herself, felt her feet swept from underneath her and slipped, still blinded by the rushing water. The brick edge of the canal bank scraped against her forearms as she flailed, trying to catch onto something, anything solid. Then there was nothing but the deep, cold water of the canal.

Bianca fought to go up, waving her arms in a tragic attempt at swimming. Her face and arms stung from the pummelling torrent and all she could see was dirty green water and churning white bubbles. Her head broke the surface for a second. She gasped in a breath of fresh canalside air and her eyes opened to take in a burst of beautiful starlight and torchlight, and then she found herself sinking again. She was too heavy, her wide skirts sodden and dragging her back down.

She held her breath, clawing at the strings that kept the material bound to her waist, but the water was so cold and her chest was burning from the lack of air. She thrashed again, peering up through strands of her own hair that waved around her head like seaweed, trying to get up to the distant and fading lights  … 

Something hit her, and she let out a bubble of surprise. Her hands closed on something long and metal, before she felt herself being dragged through the water, almost
sucked
along by the water itself, faster and faster, until the last of the light vanished and she was shooting through a small passage. She crashed against a metal grille and gasped. She was out of the water. Scraping her hair from her eyes, Bianca looked around, trying to blink away the wet and mud. She was in a tiny space, barely big enough for her to fit into lying down.

‘Are you in?' It was Marco, though his voice had a strange, tinny quality.

‘Wha—?' Bianca said. ‘Marco?'

‘Got all your limbs?'

Bianca patted herself down. Her feet and legs were there, so was her head, and her hands were shaking rather badly but definitely still attached. After a second's thought she plunged her hand into her pocket and her fingers closed around the magic paintbrush.

‘Yep, I think so!'

‘OK, come on up.'

Bianca twitched back as the ceiling over her head suddenly split apart and rolled back. She sat up and carefully poked her head through the hole.

‘It's the underwater vehicle!' she said. She hoisted herself up and out of the hole, and found herself in a space that wasn't much bigger, but was much drier and warmer. In front of her, Marco was sitting in one of the leather seats underneath the thick glass dome, with a large wheel and an array of buttons and levers within his reach. Bits of mud and the occasional fish floated past his head. Bianca looked behind her and saw a network of pipes and bellows.

‘You saved my life!' she gasped. She patted the polished copper floor of the craft. ‘I'll never be sniffy about this thing again! How come you were even here?'

‘Don't I have the best timing?' Marco said, throwing a grin over his shoulder at her. ‘Actually, I was heading to the Bridge of Cats. I want to see if I can find out what the Baron threw in the canal in case it caused all this flooding.'

‘That's a brilliant idea,' said Bianca.
A better idea than running off to Oscurita to track down the Baron by myself
, she thought. Her unexpected dip in the canal seemed to have brought her to her senses.

‘Well, in theory,' said Marco. ‘I haven't had any luck yet. I'm going to moor up by the palace bridge. You can get out and dry off.'

‘Thanks,' Bianca said. She tried to wring out her skirt, but so much water flooded out from a single twist that she suddenly worried she might ruin the machine and actually mopped some of it up again.

The underwater craft rose to the surface and the glass dome broke through to show a dark sky above and the soft glow from the lamps in the palace. Bianca breathed a little more easily just looking at it, even though the craft bobbed worryingly as Marco steered it over to the bank, not far from where Bianca had fallen in. Luckily the canal was deserted tonight – Bianca guessed the merchants and citizens who might usually have been travelling down it were too busy trying to save their homes and paintings from the flooding.

‘Hatch opening,' he said. ‘Grab the rope and tie us to a mooring.'

‘OK.' Bianca shifted over and picked up the coil of rope that was hanging by the hatch. There was a sucking noise and a pop, and the hatch was ajar. Bianca carefully pushed it open, stood up and barely managed to lift the weight of her dress enough to stagger out onto the canal bank. There was a rushing river of water cascading down the steps from the bridge and she was careful not to get too close, wary of the same undertow that'd dragged her off the bank last time. She knelt beside a mooring hook, carefully wrapped the rope several times around it and tied a secure knot. Then she turned around to look for the mural, wondering if the torrent was still pouring out, or if it had subsided now she'd released the pressure.

Instead of a deserted path and a river flowing into the canal from the cracked mural, she saw two guards standing by the wall. Their gold armour glowed in the light from the bridge, and the thick black paint they were using to cover the mural glistened like an oil slick.

‘What are you doing?' Bianca gasped. ‘That's vandalism!'

One of the guards looked around. He blinked at her in shock.

‘Blimey,' he said. ‘Are you all right? Did you just crawl out of the river?'

‘
I'm
fine. You're the one who's going to be in trouble when the Duchess hears about this,' Bianca snapped. ‘Put that brush down, right now!'

The second guard elbowed the first one. ‘That's Bianca di Lombardi,' he muttered.

‘Oh,' said the first guard. ‘Sorry, but this is Captain's orders. And it's working, look.' He stepped back and showed her. Where the mural had been, there was a thick and clumsily painted black emptiness, like a void.

‘Damn it,' muttered the second guard. ‘It still needs another coat.'

Bianca leaned around them to look. A tiny trickle of water had fought its way out from underneath the black paint. Before she could stop him, the guard dipped his paintbrush in the pail of thick black paint and slapped it on, covering the hole. The water slowed and stopped.

Bianca felt sick as she watched the rest of the mural vanish under a layer of blackness. Marco had climbed out of the underwater craft, and he put his hand on her shoulder.

‘Sorry, Bianca,' he muttered.

‘What do you mean, Captain's orders?' Bianca growled up at the guards.

‘I mean, Captain Raphaeli told us to grab a pail and a brush and paint over any murals we saw that were leaking,' said the guard.

‘Really,' Bianca said flatly. ‘Raphaeli told you to do this?' She clenched her fists and turned around, almost walking into Marco. She shoved past him and started up the steps to the bridge two at a time. When she got to the top, she ran across the bridge, clambered over the sandbags and splashed down in the water, fighting her way to the gates against the current. It was hard going with the water still pouring around her feet and her dress weighing her down as surely as if she'd tied a bunch of rocks to her shoulders.

The palace's paintings were still stacked in the middle of the courtyard, leaking water from their painted doors and windows. But there seemed to be a little less water in the courtyard. Bianca knew she should've been happy to see it, but it just made her heart sink. She crossed the yard to the palace doors, and looked inside. There were two more guards, each with a brush and a pail of thick black paint, destroying murals on either side of the great hall. On her left, the rolling hillsides of the Vine Country vanished under a layer of paint, and on her right, thick black drips streaked down the face of an angel so that it seemed to weep black tears. As the paint covered it and the church door it stood in front of, the beating of its wings slowed, faltered and then stopped altogether.

Bianca wiped hot tears from her cold cheeks with one wet, grubby sleeve.

How could they do this? How could they bring themselves to destroy the city's legacy like this? Didn't they care that they were painting over years of some artist's devotion?

Three servants carried paintings past her, walking carefully so as not to slip on the mud that caked the floors. Bianca turned to watch them, and the servants didn't even bother keeping the paintings upright! They threw them onto the pile any old way and hurried back inside.

Bianca was about to shout at them for being so careless, when she saw Duchess Catriona and Captain Raphaeli standing together on a flight of steps at the side of the courtyard, out of the water. Duchess Catriona was looking at the paintings and her face was paler than Bianca had ever seen it. She looked as if she might throw up. Instead she gave a single nod.

What are they  … ?

A guard with a flaming torch appeared.

No! They wouldn't. They couldn't  … 

Bianca wanted to run and tackle him and stop this, but it seemed as if it all happened in an instant – she breathed in, she saw another guard with a large bucket throw its oily contents onto the paintings, she smelled pitch and saw the fiery torch lowered to the canvas.

‘No!' Bianca yelled, but it was too late. The palace's paintings, the treasure of La Luminosa, caught alight. ‘No!' she screamed again, her voice cracking as the flames licked around the landscapes, portraits, scenes from the city's history and legends, saints and knights, masterpieces and minor works. She splashed across the courtyard to the bottom of the steps where the Duchess and Captain stood, and glared up at them. She was still dripping with canal water and starting to tremble from the cold and the boiling anger that flooded her veins, but she clenched her fists and stomped up the stairs, as close as she dared.

‘How could you?' she gasped. ‘You can't do this!'

Captain Raphaeli stared down at her with a mix of sympathy and horror in his face.

‘Bianca, you're wet through,' he said. ‘Did you try to get through the passages?'

‘I  …  Yes, I did,' she said.

‘What were you going to do, against the whole city of Oscurita?' Raphaeli scolded her. ‘How could you think of attempting that?'

Bianca shook her head, resentful of him trying to distract her from her fury. ‘How could you do
this?
' She glanced back at the flames licking around the frames of the paintings, then turned to Duchess Catriona. ‘These paintings are the heart and soul of La Luminosa! They're irreplaceable! What's the point in defeating Edita if we're going to sacrifice everything we care about to do it? What will be left to defend in La Luminosa if we destroy its heart like this?'

‘It wasn't an easy decision,' Catriona half whispered. She looked as still and pale as a statue, with the firelight flickering on her face.

‘And what about my mother? If we cut her off completely she might not be able to take back the throne!'

‘It's dreadful,' said Captain Raphaeli, firmly but with a gentleness that surprised Bianca. ‘But we have a duty – to protect our Duchess, to protect
all
the citizens of La Luminosa. If the Oscuritans invade and take over the city, having the paintings won't be much of a consolation.'

‘We knew Edita could use the passages to invade before this!' Bianca snapped.

‘And we all should have listened to you,' said Raphaeli. ‘But we didn't. We're making up for it now. I won't allow La Luminosa to come to harm, even if it means burning every painting in the city.'

‘But I didn't want this!' Bianca looked round at the bonfire of masterpieces. She could feel herself begin to weep.

‘Bianca, look,' said Marco's voice. He was standing at the bottom of the steps, pointing towards the palace gate. A terrible parade of guards was coming across the bridge, carrying dripping paintings under their arms. Bianca even recognised some of the pictures – she'd helped di Lombardi paint them.

‘Please,' she begged, looking up at Captain Raphaeli. ‘Don't do this.'

‘I don't have a choice,' Raphaeli said.

‘Stop! Please stop!' cried a woman's voice. Bianca looked around to see a plump, middle-aged woman dressed in a green cloak over a fine cotton nightdress, running alongside one of the guards. ‘You have to listen to me! You cannot burn that painting!'

Bianca and Marco glanced at each other and Bianca ran down the steps into the water – which was much lower now, and mostly mud – and squelched past the bonfire of paintings towards the woman.

‘Can't you see it?' the woman cried, gesturing to the portrait of a young girl that one of the guards was carrying. ‘It isn't leaking. It isn't even magical!'

‘Like I told you the last eighty times, Captain's orders are to burn the paintings,' the guard growled at her.

‘Please.' The woman ran her hands through her fine grey hair in despair. ‘Please, that painting's been in my family for a hundred years, since before magical paints even existed in La Luminosa!'

‘Stop!' Bianca shouted, sliding the last few feet across the muddy stones to the woman's side. ‘She's right, it's not leaking.'

The guard gave Bianca a filthy look. ‘And just why should I listen to some drowned rat of a girl?' he asked.

Bianca drew herself up as tall as she could and tried to give him her best Duchess Catriona impression – which was a little bit harder than normal as her hair was still plastered to her head with dirty canal water and her dress was splattered with mud.

‘Because I am Bianca di Lombardi, Master di Lombardi's granddaughter, and his apprentice. I know what I'm talking about!' she said. The guard gave her a sceptical look. She peered around the man's arm at the painting. It definitely wasn't leaking – and the little girl in the picture showed no sign of breath or movement. She was sitting in a sun-dappled garden underneath a tall oak tree. There wasn't even any illusion of space between her and the background – the painting was completely flat and still. ‘I'm telling you, that painting is no threat to the city!'

The guard hesitated for just a second, and then shrugged. ‘Makes no difference to me,' he said. ‘I was told to burn the paintings, and that's what I'm doing.'