The Undrowned Child (13 page)

The mermaid motioned for the children to approach her along the walkway that ran along the edge of the cavern’s pool. A pair of carved chairs was placed behind them by two younger mermaids wearing maids’ caps and aprons on the top halves of their bodies.

Their mistress bestowed a benevolent look on the stupefied children. “Teodora, I see You have sustained an Injury. We cannot have our Lost Daughter under-the-Weather!”

“Lost Daughter?” thought Teo vaguely. “That definitely reminds me of …”

Lussa pulled on a long velvet cord hanging from the roof of the cavern, her coral nails flashing like rubies. A red-haired mermaid in a butler’s outfit bustled into view. Lussa whispered something in her ear, adding, “Roundly, Chissa!” A few moments later, the butler-mermaid reappeared with a roll of soft dried seaweed and an ointment that smelt strongly of … curry as she squeezed it out of a little leather bag.

“Fermented Chili Jelly, that purifies the Blood & Heals,” explained Lussa in a soothing voice. “Those Sailors who taught us Humantongue also brought Us a Taste for piquant Eastern Spices. We use Them in all our Food & Medicines.”

Chissa rubbed a wobbling fingerful gently into the cut on Teo’s leg and then wrapped the seaweed bandage around it, fastening it with a little spike of coral. Teo’s knee felt as if a cosy fire had been lit inside it. The pain vanished.

“Why are you printing?”

Of all the questions that Teo needed to ask, this seemed one of the least important. But it was the first one that made its way out of her mouth. Renzo remained in a state of silenced shock.

“You are a Child with both Oars in the Water,” observed Lussa approvingly. It seemed that Teo had asked the right question after all.

“We have recourse to the Seldom Seen Press & Signor Rioba when Venice is in Danger.”

“Why ‘Seldom Seen’?”

“We are named So because the Press & its Servants are seldom seen by Humanfolk.”

As Lussa spoke, the other mermaids had gradually drawn closer. Hundreds of slanted sea-green eyes were fixed upon Teo and Renzo.

“Pray forgive the Staring. Some of my Younger Sisters have never seen a Human before, Humanfolk not being in general much Use to Us in the Sore Matter of protecting this City.”

“Not much use?” asked Teo.

“No more Use than a Feather Anchor. Only rarely do We summon Humanfolk to help Us. But this is One of those Dread Times.”

Teo wondered if Lussa would now say “my Hearties.” She did not. “For many Days I have sought to summon You here. That was our Singing that You heard upon the Streets, Teodora. Those Mermaids of Wax & Carrot & Glass & Tin—They too were My Messengers. In the End I drew You to Me by the Book. I must confess that ’Twas I who caused the Volume to fall upon your Poor Head in the Shop of Books, Teodora. ’Twas also I who lured You to the Shelves with the Many-Scented Stories.”

“Which included Mermaids I Have Known by Professor Marìn,” recalled Teo. “Did the bookseller know something about this, then? He kept staring at me, as if he knew me, or recognized me from somewhere.”

“He is no Stranger to the Saving of Venice, our Friend the Good Bookseller”—there was a warm affection in Lussa’s voice—“otherwise known as Professor Marìn.”

“So he actually wrote the book about mermaids?” Teo asked, remembering the mortar-and-pestle on the shop counter instead of a till. “Do you know …?”

“About the Ransacked Shop? The Talk of Murder? Yar, Indeed,” Lussa said comfortably, “but Teodora, You shall soon learn that Everything in Venice is not always what It seems. Nor is Everyone always quite Who They say.”

Amid all her bewilderment, a new feeling was now creeping into Teo’s heart, a strangely pleasant one. There was no denying it, she felt enormously flattered that she’d been sought out by the mermaids—she, Teo, who was always picked last for every game at school, who was largely ignored by everyone except her parents and the school librarian. And treated as an inferior being by Renzo.

Surely Renzo must be just a little impressed that the mermaids had picked Teo too?

Renzo cleared his throat sulkily. All this attention to Teo was clearly making him feel somewhat surplus to requirements. Lussa threw him an understanding look, saying, “The Key to the Secret City had a Double Purpose. You see, We had our Eye upon Young Lorenzo as well, and knew that such a Book would serve as Irresistible Bait to reel Him in.”

“What mission?” demanded Renzo, visibly more pleased.

Lussa immediately looked serious again, almost grown-up. “I am most Sorry to tell you, Children, that there is a Creature …”

Teo felt sticky and faint. Lussa was still talking in serious tones: “… Yar, our City is threatened by a Creature that lurks Beneath, a Creature thousands of Years older than the Lagoon itself. ’Tis this Creature who presently heats the Waters …”

“Causing the old wells to blow up into geysers?” quavered Teo.

“And sending the High Water into the wrong places?” Renzo’s doubtful face showed that he too was struggling to believe what he was hearing.

But now, with the living book, the mermaids in front of them, the garden full of wretched ghosts upstairs, the strange happenings in Venice … but above all, seeing the distress on Lussa’s beautiful face—Teo felt a cold certainty spreading through her that anything was possible at this moment; particularly terrible things.

“How big is the … Creature?” asked Teo self-consciously.

“ ’Tis hard to convey how Big the Creature is. Let us say that ’Tis at the same time Tinier than Anything You could see with your Naked Eyes, but also Vaster than Venice Herself. You could try to envision It as a Cancerous Tumor that spreads its Web of Unwholesomeness around and under the City.” Lussa continued, “It has no Substance that a Body can really lay a Finger upon. ’Tis more like a Feeling than a Living Being. Or a Group of miniature Un-Creatures that can be organized together—for the Good or the Bad. In Itself, ’Tis however Meek & Timid as a Four-legger.”

“A four-legger?” asked Teo.

Chissa growled in a warning tone, “A coney, underground mutton … you know.”

“I’m sorry.…” Teo was still lost.

Renzo interrupted in a low voice, “She means ‘rabbit’—sailors are supposed never to utter that word aloud. It brings bad luck.”

One of the mermaids shouted at him, “Belay that loose talk, stripling!!!”

Another chimed in, “Keep yer noggin’ mouf shut, ye great dafty!”

“Avast!—Hold! Enough!” Lussa held up her hand. “The Creature,” she reminded the children, “is the Subject in our Net at this Moment. It has manifested. Now even Humanfolk can see its Parts arranged in Tentacles above the Water.”

Renzo and Teo looked at each other with dawning understanding.

“Yar,” confirmed Lussa. “The Striped Poles in the Grand Canal. The Creature has been Asleep for Centuries. The Tentacles solidified in the Dormant State to the Extent that They seemed like Trunks of Wood. Humanfolk even started using Them to moor their little Boats, Poor Ignorant Ones. Of course, Humanfolk are notoriously Bad at noticing Things.”

“I’ve seen the poles move!” exclaimed Teo and Renzo in the same voice.

“You never thought to mention that?” Teo muttered to Renzo.

He looked away, embarrassed.

Lussa continued, “Soon They shall do a great deal More than move. We Mermaids have been able to keep the Creature aslumbering for ten Centuries with our Singing, but now ’Tis roused once more.”

“Why has it woken up now?”

“There are two Reasons. One is Human-Made. Too many Humans and too much Boating Activity made the Lagoon Warmer & Dirtier than Nature intended. When the Water below the City was Fresh & Cool, the Creature, who is cold-blooded, stayed safely in a State of Suspended Animation, all its Miniature Parts separated. But now the Water grows ever Hotter & Filthier, and so the Creature stirs. It gains in Strength & commences to act in a Unified Way. ’Tis not fully awake yet, thank the Deep; else our Beautiful City would already be just a Memory.”

Renzo, pale as snow, asked, “What is the second reason?”

Lussa answered in a somber voice, “Bajamonte Tiepolo.” Silence fell on all the mermaids in the cavern. The parrots shuffled uneasily in their cages. To Teo this name meant nothing. Even so, her chest clenched and her hands balled up into fists.

Renzo whispered, “Bajamonte Tiepolo, Il Traditore?”

Lussa repeated, “Bajamonte Tiepolo, the Traitor.”

Chissa nodded grimly. “Yar, Bajamonte Tiepolo, the Orphan-Maker.”

Something stuck in Teo’s throat. She choked. Renzo groaned, “Oh my God, it’s not possible!”

one o’clock in the morning, June 8, 1899

Lussa nodded sadly. “Yes, Bajamonte Tiepolo, who tried to destroy the Republic of Venice and kill the Doge.”

Renzo protested, “But that was hundreds of years ago, in 1310. The Doge was a Gradenigo. It must have been Pietro, yes, Pietro Gradenigo.”

“Bag o’ nuts!” cried a mermaid admiringly. “Suave as a rat with a gold tooth!”

Another chimed: “Weren’t behind the door when the brains was give out, ’im!”

Lussa smiled. “You do not disappoint Us, Lorenzo, with your relentless Knowledge of Venetian History. Now kindly explain Il Traditore to Teodora. I see from her Face that she hurts to know of Him.”

Renzo cleared his throat in the way that Teo had come to learn meant that a long historical lecture was in the offing. She sighed.

“Bajamonte Tiepolo,” he began portentously, “was a rich and spoiled nobleman who wanted to be absolute ruler of Venice. He’d been humiliated by the Venetian Council for robbing the people of the province he had governed. He was bitter as poison about it. He believed that the old ways of the aristocracy were being trampled by upstarts like Doge Gradenigo—”

Teo interrupted, “According to him, the Doge was an upstart?”

Renzo raised his eyebrows. “He considered everyone beneath him.”

Teo thought, “Bajamonte Tiepolo’s not the only Venetian who’s felt that way.”

Renzo continued, “So Bajamonte Tiepolo and some of his noble friends raised a secret army, planning to kill Doge Gradenigo and seize power for themselves.

“On the appointed night, just before dawn, three groups of armed men set out from different points of the city towards San Marco. Marco Querini’s group was to arrive via the Calle dei Fabbri. The second party, led by Bajamonte Tiepolo, would come down the Mercerie. And the third group, led by Badoero Badoer, would arrive by water.”

“So many of them! How did he …?”

“It was rumored that Bajamonte Tiepolo possessed magical powers and had woven a spell around many good men. Afterwards they claimed he had drugged the drinks with which they toasted their victory. Even his crest was said to have hypnotic properties.

“But at the last minute”—Renzo paused for effect—“everything went wrong for Bajamonte Tiepolo. Some of his men had a dramatic change of heart and turned informers for the Doge.”

The mermaids smiled proudly then, and Teo guessed that they might have had something to do with changing the men’s minds.

“So,” continued Renzo, “when the conspirators led by Marco Querini arrived in San Marco, the Doge’s loyal army was waiting for them.…”

Teo privately thought that Renzo could have speeded up his recounting of the story at this point. But Renzo was enjoying his human and half-human audience too much, drinking in the admiration of the young mermaids. Teo had a sudden sense that perhaps Renzo, like herself, was considered an oddity at school because of his passion for things in books. Perhaps he’d never had anyone to listen to him like this before?

“Well, meanwhile, Bajamonte Tiepolo’s men were held up at the Rialto Bridge. They looted the public treasury and set fire to the bridge itself. It was wooden, in those days, Teo. Then the Badoer fleet was caught in a storm that came out of nowhere.”

The mermaids looked smug again.

Chissa muttered impatiently, “What a drivelswigger! Drags on like a sea cow’s saliva!”

Renzo blushed and stammered to a halt. To help him out, Teo said encouragingly, “But do tell us what happened next!”

“Eventually Bajamonte Tiepolo’s party tore themselves away from their looting and made their way towards San Marco. The troop was led by a dwarf carrying a flag emblazoned with the Tiepolo crest. Just before they reached the entrance to the square, an old lady, a baker’s wife, took matters into her own hands.

“She leant out of her balcony and dropped her heavy mortar-and-pestle on the dwarf flag-bearer’s head. Bajamonte Tiepolo’s glittering armor was spattered with dwarf blood and brains. Suddenly he didn’t look like an invincible leader. He looked a man who would ruthlessly spill Venetian blood.

“Someone shouted, ‘Bajamonte Tiepolo, Orphan-Maker!’ Someone else screamed, ‘Bajamonte Tiepolo, Il Traditore!’ ”

“Now he’s really telling it well,” judged Teo admiringly. Her eyes flew to the gold mortars-and-pestles that decorated the cavern.

“The spell was broken. The rest of the men suddenly woke out of their enchantment. Marco Querini had already been killed in the battle at San Marco. Bajamonte Tiepolo fled to the safety of his family palace, which was like a fortress. The conspiracy was over.”

Renzo paused. “Except for the punishments. They hanged Badoer between the columns in the Piazzetta.”

Teo asked, “And Bajamonte Tiepolo too?”

Renzo explained that the noble Tiepolo name still counted for a great deal in Venice. “The Doge thought he would gain the people’s favor if he showed mercy. So he negotiated a treaty by which the conspirator would go into perpetual exile: the worst thing you can do to a Venetian.”

“Except for killing him,” observed Teo.

“The Doge wanted to appear merciful, but he had hatred in his heart for the man who’d wanted to murder him. So he ordered his men to raze the family palaces of Bajamonte Tiepolo at Sant’Agostin and on the Grand Canal. Where there is now the modern Hotel degli Assassini.”

“That’s where I am staying!” exclaimed Teo. “And there’s a Bar Tiepolo in there!”

“We do not think that is a coincidence, that ye should be abiding in that establishment,” muttered Chissa, worry creasing her forehead.

Teo felt the air squeezed out of her chest. Until this moment, the violent story of Bajamonte Tiepolo had seemed rather like a fairy tale gone wrong, something to read in an old book curled up on a rainy day, and nothing to do with Teo herself. Suddenly, it felt personal. And she remembered something else. Her parents were sleeping in that hotel now, after a hard day’s searching for Teo and meeting with other scientists.