Authors: Cornelia Funke
38 Prosper
Riccio found Prosper in front of the Hotel Sandwirth. He was standing on the promenade as if frozen solid, oblivious to the crowds passing him by. There was always quite a crush on the Riva degli Schiavoni, even on a biting-cold day like this, since this was where some of the city's best hotels were to be found. Hundreds of boats docked at the moorings along the canal and there were constant comings and goings. Prosper heard the wind pushing the boats against the piers; he heard the dull thud as they bumped against the wood. He was aware, somewhere, of people laughing and talking in many languages. But he just stood there, his collar turned up against the chill, and looked up at the windows of the Sandwirth. When Riccio put his hand on his shoulder, Prosper spun around.
"Hey, Prop, there you are!" Riccio said greatly relieved. "I've been looking for you all day. I came here a few times, but I didn't see you."
"I'm sorry," Prosper apologized. He turned around again. "I followed them the whole day, without being seen. I think Bo nearly spotted me a few times, but I quickly ducked out of the way. I was afraid he'd flip if he saw me." Prosper pushed the hair from his forehead. "I followed them everywhere. They bought clothes for Bo. Esther even wanted to put a bow tie on him, but he chucked it into the garbage when they weren't looking. You probably wouldn't recognize him anymore. He looks completely different now that he's not in those huge sweaters Scipio used to bring back. They even insisted on taking him to a hairdresser's. There's not a trace of black left now. And then they took him from one cafe to another, but he never touched anything they ordered for him. He just kept staring past them. I think he saw me once through a window because he tried to run away. But my uncle quickly caught him again like a naughty puppy.
"They're in there now," Prosper said, pointing up at the brightly lit windows. "I even went and asked the porter which room Esther is in, but he just told me the Hartliebs won't see anybody."
For a few moments the two boys just stood next to each other, gazing up at the windows. They were beautiful windows, glowing behind shimmering curtains. Which one was Bo behind?
"Come on!" Riccio said finally. He caught sight of a man swinging his camera around rather carelessly. "You can't stand here all night. Don't you want to know where we're staying now? Ida took us in without batting an eyelid! We've even got our own room, in the attic. We couldn't take our old mattresses, but Ida had two old beds and so we've pushed them together for now. It's a bit cramped, but it's definitely better than sleeping outside. It's great! Come on, dinner will be ready soon. I tell you, that housekeeper can cook!" He took hold of Prosper's arm, but Prosper just shook his head.
"No!" he said, breaking free. "I'm staying here."
Riccio looked up at the sky and sighed with frustration. "Prop!" he said pleadingly. "What do you think the porter will do when he finds you skulking around here in the middle of the night? He'll call the
Carabinieri.
And what are you going to tell them? That your aunt has kidnapped your brother?"
Prosper ignored him. "Go away, Riccio," he said without taking his eyes off the windows. "It's all over. We haven't got a hideout, Hornet's gone, and Bo is with Esther."
"Hornet isn't gone!" Riccio called out so loud that people turned their heads. He quickly lowered his voice again. "She isn't gone!" he whispered. "Ida and the snoop got her out of the orphanage!"
"Ida and Victor?" Prosper looked at him in wonder.
"Yes, and they had a real laugh doing it! You should have seen them when they left, they had their arms linked like an old couple." Riccio chuckled. "The snoop's been behaving like a real gentleman. He opens doors for Ida and helps her into her coat. Only he won't light her cigarettes and keeps moaning about her smoking so much."
"But how did they do it?"
To his satisfaction, Riccio noticed that Prosper had obviously forgotten about the hotel for a moment. "Hornet was taken to the orphanage of the Merciful Sisters. Apparently that's where Ida was brought up," he explained quietly. "Anyway, she now gives them money every now and then. She collects toys, that sort of stuff as well...Victor said the nuns treated her like the Madonna herself. They believed
everything
she said!"
"That's great news." Prosper turned his attention back to the windows. "Say hello to Hornet for me. Is she OK?"
"No, she isn't!" Riccio planted himself in front of Prosper so he would have to look at him. "She's worried about you. And about Bo, although
he's
probably not thinking about jumping into the lagoon like you!"
"She thinks I'm going to do that?" Prosper angrily pushed Riccio away. "That's stupid. I hate water."
"That's fine then! But could you tell her that yourself?" Riccio held out his hands imploringly. "I just saw her for a couple of minutes when I went back to get something to eat. But she would hardly let me touch my food." He altered his voice.
"Get out there, Riccio!"
he twittered, imitating Hornet.
"You've had enough to eat, Riccio! Go and find Prosper! Please! He might have thrown himself into some canal!
She even wanted to come with me, but Ida said she'd better stay in the house for a while, so she doesn't end up in the orphanage again. That was fine by me. Her nagging would have driven me crazy. And I knew you'd turn up here sooner or later."
Riccio could make out a smile on Prosper's face, just a tiny one, but it was definitely there. "Anyway," he said, "I've talked enough now. You can come back here tomorrow morning, but right now you're coming with me."
Prosper didn't reply, but let himself be hustled along by Riccio, past the souvenir stands that lined the Riva degli Schiavoni. Most of the hawkers were already closing down their stalls, but you could still buy a few things at some of them: the plastic fans Bo liked so much -- with black lace and the Rialto Bridge printed on them, golden gondolas, coral necklaces, city guides, dried sea horses.
Prosper followed Riccio through the crowd, but kept looking back toward the Sandwirth.
"Come on! If Ida and Victor managed to get Hornet back," Riccio said, "then they'll work something out for getting Bo back too. You'll see."
"They're flying home next week," said Prosper. "What can anyone do then?"
"That's plenty of time," Riccio answered. He turned up his collar. He was shivering. "And anyway, Bo's not in prison, or in the orphanage. Man, that's the Sandwirth. It's a really fancy hotel."
Prosper just nodded. He felt so empty. As empty as the big mussel shells lying in those large baskets in front of the market.
Riccio stopped. "Hang on, Prop."
The sky above the lagoon had turned red. It was growing dark, although it was only four o'clock. A few tourists stood in wonder by the quay and saw how the setting sun glazed the dirty water with gold.
"What an opportunity," Riccio whispered to Prosper. "They wouldn't even notice if I stole their shoes. I only need a few seconds. You can check out the mussels until I get back."
He turned around, already wearing his "I am just a skinny boy who couldn't hurt a fly" expression. But Prosper grabbed him by the collar.
"Forget it, Riccio," he said angrily, "or do you think Ida Spavento will let you sleep in her house once the
Carabinieri
have caught you?"
"You don't understand!" Riccio, pretending to be outraged, tried to free himself from Prosper's grip. "I just don't want to get out of practice."
But Prosper wouldn't let go, and so Riccio gave a shrug before walking on. The tourists continued to be enchanted by the sunset, without having to pay for it with their wallets.
39 All Lost
That evening Ida threw a party. Lucia, the housekeeper, had cooked, fried, and baked all afternoon. She had whipped cream, scooped tiny cakes from the baking tin, made ravioli, and stirred sauces. Different smells kept luring Victor into the kitchen, but every time he tried to sneak a taste he got his fingers rapped with a wooden spoon. Hornet and Prosper set the table together in the dining room while Mosca and Riccio chased each other from one floor to the other, always followed by Lucia's yapping dogs.
The two of them were so happy and boisterous that they didn't even seem to mind anymore that the Conte had duped them. When Victor asked them what they intended to do with all those wads of fake cash, Riccio said, quite openly, "We can still spend it." Victor told them off soundly and demanded that Riccio hand over the bag right away. But Riccio, grinning broadly, just shook his head and declared that he and Mosca had hidden it. In a safe place, he'd said. Not even Prosper and Hornet knew about it -- not that they seemed to care particularly.
So Victor decided he'd better forget about the fake money too. He sat down on Ida's sofa and started munching chocolates, telling himself he ought to go home. But each time he got up, with a big sigh, to say good-bye, Ida had brought him a glass of
grappa,
or a
caffe,
or asked him to put the toothpicks on the table. So Victor stayed.
While the sky outside darkened, Ida made her house glow as brightly as a thousand stars. She lit countless candles and the crystal shimmered so beautifully that Hornet could hardly take her eyes off it.
"Pinch me!" she said to Prosper. "This can't be real."
Prosper obeyed. He very gently pinched her arm.
"It's real!" Hornet cried, laughing and dancing around him.
But not even her happiness could chase the sadness from Prosper's face. They had all tried in their own way: Riccio with his jokes, Mosca by showing Prosper all the strange things hidden behind the dark doors in Ida's house. Nothing helped: Not even Ida's candy nor Victor's reassurances that he would think of something to help Bo. Because if Bo wasn't there, Prosper missed him like a lost arm or leg. He felt sorry for spoiling the others' fun with his gloomy face. He began to notice that Riccio had started to avoid him and even Mosca busied himself with something or other whenever Prosper moped by. But Hornet stuck by him, even though whenever she tried to put her arm around him consolingly, he pushed her away and adjusted the forks on the table, or sat in front of a window and stared outside.
At dinner Mosca and Riccio fooled around so much that Victor grumbled that it would have been quieter with a bunch of monkeys at the table. But Prosper never said a word.
After dinner, while the others played cards with Ida and Victor, Prosper went upstairs. Ida had found a couple of air mattresses so that they wouldn't be too crowded on the two beds that Riccio had already pushed together. Hornet had put one of them by the wall and piled her books around it. Riccio and Mosca hadn't dared to leave even a single one of her precious stories behind in the movie theater. Prosper dragged the second air mattress to the window so he could see Ida's garden and the canal behind it. The blankets from Lucia's linen cupboard smelled of lavender. Prosper curled up in them, but he couldn't fall asleep.
In fact he was still awake when the others crept under their blankets. It was eleven o'clock when Victor finally said goodbye, swaying gently, driven home by his guilty conscience to his hungry tortoises. Prosper pretended to be asleep. He lay with his face to the wall and waited for his friends to doze off.
As soon as Riccio was giggling in his sleep, Mosca snoring beneath his blanket, and Hornet finally sleeping with a happy smile between her books, Prosper got up. The well-worn floorboards creaked beneath his feet, but that didn't wake any of the others. They had never before felt as safe as this, secure in Ida's house.
Lucia had kept the door to the garden firmly bolted ever since Ida had told her how the children had crept into the house that night. The door squeaked gently as Prosper opened it. He stepped into the dark garden. There was a coating of white frost over everything.
At the point where Ida's garden bordered the canal there was a gate in the wall, just a few inches above the waterline. As he unlatched it, Prosper heard the canal water slosh against the base of the wall. Ida's boat swayed, tightly moored, between two painted wooden posts. Prosper carefully climbed into the boat, sat down on the cold wooden bench, and looked up at the moon.
What should I do? he thought. Tell me, what should I do?
But the moon did not answer.
In her stories about Venice, Prosper's mother had always talked about the moon -- how it could make dreams come true. They called the moon
la bella luna
here, as if she were a beautiful lady. But ask as he might, Prosper knew that she wasn't going to help him get his brother back.
Prosper sat in Ida's boat and let the tears run down his face. He had believed that this was his city -- his and Bo's. He used to believe that if they came here -- the most beautiful city in the world -- then they would be safe from Esther.
Esther despised Venice. She was an intruder. Why didn't the pigeons poop all over her? Why didn't the marble dragons bite her in the neck and the winged lions chase her out of their city? How wonderful they had seemed the first time Prosper had seen them with his very own eyes, after learning so much about them from his mother. He had looked up and there they were, standing like sentinels among the stars on their pillars. He had felt they were the guardians not just of Venice's splendors -- but of him too.
He had felt as safe as a king in the center of his realm, protected by lions and dragons -- and by the water all around them. Esther hated the water. She was afraid to even board a ship. But still she had come here and taken Bo from him.
Prosper wiped the tears from his face with his sleeve. He heard a motorboat coming down the canal so he sank down in the boat and waited for it to pass. But it didn't. The engine stopped, and Prosper heard someone cursing under his breath. Then something bumped hard against Ida's boat. Prosper carefully poked his head out.
It was Scipio! He smiled with such happiness that Prosper forgot for a moment why he had tears in his eyes.
"Look who's here!" said the Thief Lord. "Well, if that's not a coincidence. I've come to pick you up!"
"Pick me up? And take me where?" Prosper scrambled to his feet. "Where did you get the boat?" It was beautiful, built of dark wood and decorated with golden ornaments.
"It's my father's," Scipio answered. He patted the boat as if it was a thoroughbred horse. "It's his pride and joy. I've borrowed it -- and just now it got its first scratch."
"How did you know we were here?" Prosper asked.
"Mosca called me." Scipio looked up at the moon. "He told me that the Conte tricked us. And Bo is with your aunt, is that right?"
Prosper nodded and wiped the back of his hand over his eyes. He didn't want Scipio to see that he'd been crying.
"I'm sorry." Scipio said gently. "It was stupid of us to leave him alone with Hornet, wasn't it?"
Prosper didn't reply, although he had had the same thought at least a hundred times.
"Prop?" Scipio cleared his throat. "I'm driving out to the Isola Segreta. Will you come with me?"
Prosper stared at him, astounded.
"The Conte cheated us." Scipio lowered his voice as if someone might be listening. "He took us for a ride. Either he gives me the money, real money this time, or he lets me take a ride on the merry-go-round. It's on that island, I'm sure it is."
Prosper shook his head. "You don't really believe in that story, do you? Forget it -- and forget the money. So we were cheated. Tough luck. Riccio's already working out how he can spend the fake money. And nobody wants to go back to that island. Not even for a whole bag full of real riches."
Scipio fiddled with the string of his mask and looked at Prosper. "I want to go there," he said. "With you. I want to ride that merry-go-round. And if the Conte won't let me, then I'll take the wing back. Come with me, Prop. What have you got to lose, now that Bo is gone?"
Prosper stared at his hands. A child's hands. He thought of the condescending look he had received from the porter at the Sandwirth. He thought of his bulky uncle and how he had walked next to Bo, his hand possessively on his brother's thin shoulder. And suddenly Prosper wished that Scipio were right. He wished that out there, on that island, there really was something that could turn the small and weak into the big and strong. And suddenly he knew what he wanted to do. Without another word he jumped into Scipio's boat.