The Dark City (5 page)

The other apprentices were there when she walked in, chatting and preparing their paints and canvases. Bianca plastered a friendly smile on her face.

‘Hi everyone,' she said.

Cosimo and Lucia exchanged a look and then they both stood and bowed to her.

Bianca looked around at the other apprentices, searching for support  …  and found none. She didn't blame Cosimo or Lucia if they hated her – both of them were head apprentices, either could have taken over the studios and done a much better job of it than she could. But the rest of di Lombardi's apprentices wouldn't even look at her, and Filpepi's were staring at her with undisguised anger.

‘What can we do for you, Mistress?' Lucia said. Her voice was smooth but there were daggers in it.

‘Do you think she knows what time it is?' whispered a girl's voice. Bianca's gaze fell on Gabriella, who'd folded her arms and turned away to whisper to Francesca. Bianca's heart sank even more. Gabriella had never liked her – she'd never liked any of di Lombardi's apprentices. The idea that Bianca, the youngest, was in charge must be killing her.

‘I'm sorry about –' Bianca began, but Lucia interrupted, turning on Gabriella.

‘Gabriella, silence!' she snapped.

Bianca clenched her fists in the ends of her sleeves. ‘Lucia, it's all ri—'

Lucia marched over to Gabriella and knocked down her folded arms. ‘Mistress Bianca is our master now. She can come and go as she pleases, and you have no right to scold her for it!' Her tone was vicious.

Bianca flushed, stung by the spite in Lucia's voice. But she gave them the friendliest grin she could. ‘Listen, I'm sorry about this, and I'm sorry for being late,' she said, spreading her hands. ‘But all I'm going to do is manage things, not interfere with your work or anything – I trust you to do the work just like you always did. Nothing's really going to change. You don't have to act like I'm Master di Lombardi!'

‘Of course not, Mistress,' said Lucia, with a smile that was all teeth and no warmth.

‘Yes, it's
so kind
of you to say you trust us,' muttered Gennaro.

‘I didn't mean  … ' Bianca began, but then she stopped herself. Fine. Maybe they wouldn't listen to anything she said. Well, then, she'd just have to show them she meant it.

‘Do you all have work to do?' she asked. ‘Does anyone need anything from me?'

Cosimo and Lucia exchanged another look – this time accompanied by matching sly smiles. They both turned and picked up huge, teetering stacks of paper from the workbenches behind them.

‘These are all Master di Lombardi's papers about the studio,' said Cosimo, shoving them into Bianca's arms.

‘And these are Filpepi's,' said Lucia, plonking hers down on top. Bianca staggered under the weight and pressed her chin on top of the stack to stop them sliding off onto the floor. She gave Cosimo a pleading look, but he returned it with a blank stare.

Lucia rolled her eyes. ‘
Not
that I have
years
of experience in basically
running
this studio while our master was busy plotting with the Baron da Russo, or anything,' she said. ‘But I think the master is supposed to know everything that's being worked on and make sure it's all on time and up to scratch.'

‘Right. Thanks,' Bianca said, though she didn't feel particularly thankful. She staggered over to the nearest workbench and put down the huge piles of paper.

‘I think the master of the studio should use the master's office,' said Lucia.

Bianca thought about that dim room, with all Filpepi's things still crowded around the desk, and shuddered. She didn't want to vanish upstairs and sit there all by herself. If she did that she'd never have the chance to talk to the other apprentices and prove to them that she wasn't trying to take di Lombardi's place.

Well
, she thought,
she did say I was in charge.

‘Actually, I think I'll work in here,' she said brightly. ‘I'll pull a table into a corner so I'm not in anyone's way.'

Lucia's eyes glinted unpleasantly and her nostrils flared, but she swept Bianca another low bow. ‘As you like, Mistress Bianca,' she muttered. As she straightened up, she turned to Cosimo and hissed ‘I told you so!'

Cosimo glanced back at Bianca. She'd expected him to be angry – but he just looked sad, which was so much worse.

Bianca sat down on a stool and stared up at the pile of papers.

This is going to be a long, long day.

Bianca rubbed her eyes. Poring over the tiny, spidery handwriting on the studio documents had made them dry and sore – but at least now she had an idea where to start. She got up from her stool, stretched and headed over to the easel where Rosa was working.

‘Rosa, it says here you're working on the commission for the Cathedral.'

‘Yes,' said Rosa. She stepped aside to let Bianca look at the painting. It was a huge landscape, as tall as a carthorse and nearly twice as long, showing a group of pilgrims making their way through a valley bathed in golden light. Bianca examined it.

‘Great,' she said. ‘This is really good work. But, um  …  it's due to be delivered tomorrow. Do you  …  do you think it'll be finished in time to dry overnight?'

‘I don't know,' said Rosa flatly.

‘Oh – OK,' Bianca said. Everyone was looking at her now, like they were expecting her to say something.
I hate this
, she thought.
I can't tell Rosa what to do. She's like my big sister!

Well, you have to.

‘I think, I mean, would you mind moving on to the magical paints now?'

‘I'd love to,' said Rosa, ‘but I can't.'

‘Why?'

‘We haven't got any,' Francesca blurted out. ‘We used all the ones that'd been mixed and we don't know how to make more.' Gabriella and Ezio glared at her as if she'd spoiled the punchline of a joke. Bianca felt her blood warming her cheeks, but she forced herself to smile.

‘Oh no! I'm sorry, I didn't realise.' She took a deep breath, but couldn't help adding, ‘If you need something you should tell me.'

‘We wouldn't dream of telling the master how to do her job,' said Lucia.

‘Anyway, it's not like we can make more ourselves!' Domenico said.

‘Master di Lombardi never taught anyone but you,' agreed Sebastiano, in a quiet voice.

Bianca felt sick. All those times di Lombardi had pulled her away to give her extra lessons and show her how to make the magic oils do what she wanted, she'd felt so pleased with herself. So
special
. She'd had no idea it could put her in a position like this. She looked up at Cosimo, desperate to tell him she was sorry, that she didn't
force
their master to teach her. He turned away, painting the eyelashes onto a portrait with deliberate care and a stony face.

‘I  …  I thought he must have at least left instructions,' Bianca said. ‘In case  … '

The blank looks on Rosa and Domenico's faces told her she was wrong.

‘But Lucia, didn't Filpepi ever –'

Lucia gave Bianca a look of disdain that could've stopped a bolting horse. ‘Filpepi? Share his secrets? Filpepi the traitor?'

‘Well, I'll have to teach you,' Bianca said. She was gratified to see that Gabriella looked surprised.
You really thought I'd rather the techniques were lost?
‘But there's no time now. Get on with what you're doing and I'll make up new batches of everything we need. Lucia, where did Filpepi do his mixing?'

‘The supplies and the equipment are both in that room there,' said Lucia, pointing to a closed door, and smiling slyly. ‘But it's locked, and we've lost the key.'

Lost the key, or hidden it?

Bianca turned slowly to look at all the apprentices, her fists clenching.

Do none of you care at all?
she wanted to scream.
Do you all hate me so much that you'd rather destroy Master di Lombardi's legacy than see me in charge?

She tried to count to ten while taking a deep breath, and made it as far as six before she scooped up a marble sculpture of a man about the length of her arm and carried it over to the door. Hefting it so his outstretched hands were pointing down, she slammed them into the wood around the lock again and again until the door splintered and creaked open.

She set the marble man down carefully on the floor and turned to the others, who were standing frozen, with their mouths open. ‘I'll be inside if anyone needs me.' She walked inside and slammed the door behind her.

***

Bianca half-expected the apprentices to have vanished when she came out of the room again a couple of hours later, heaving a basket full of sloshing paint pots. But they were all still there, working on their paintings.

‘Here we go,' she said, emptying the basket onto the workbench, pot by pot. ‘I've made two
ethers
, and here's a
glimmer
, a
shimmer,
a
glitter
– no, sorry, that's the
luce stellare
,
that
one's the
glitter
, don't get them confused – and there's a
saltatio,
a
respirare
, and an
animare
. Rosa, can you –'

The lunch bell in the kitchen jangled, cutting Bianca off. She sighed as the apprentices filed out, without waiting to be dismissed – all except Rosa, who was staring sadly at the faint glow of the
animare
as it swished around inside the pot like a living creature.

‘I'd better stay and make a start on the pilgrims,' she muttered. ‘It's going to be late if we don't keep working.'

Bianca smiled and shook her head. ‘No, it's all right, I'll stay and start it myself. I'll get some lunch when you come back.'

Rosa grinned at Bianca, and then her cheeks flushed slightly. ‘Sorry we've all been  …  you know. It's childish. I'm sure we'll get over it.'

Bianca grinned back, feeling like a ten-tonne marble statue had been lifted off her shoulders. ‘Thanks, Rosa.'

Rosa squeezed Bianca's shoulder and hurried off after the others. Bianca hopped up onto the stool in front of the easel, and felt even more of the tension melt away. She hadn't even taken out her brush yet, but just sitting in front of a painting getting ready to start work felt like a huge relief. She wasn't desperately trying to please the Duchess – or find a way back to the dark city – she was just doing what she loved.

She studied the figures of the pilgrims. They were really good – a fine lady in green on a white horse rode with a fat white-robed priest by her side. Even though the figures were small, Bianca could tell they were deep in conversation just from the subtle lines of their faces. Behind them a pair of ponies carried bulging saddlebags, and then a young man in a blue uniform rode with a young woman in practical brown leather.

Rosa definitely had an eye for painting people. Now Bianca just needed to add a little magic.

She traced the lines of movement with her dry paintbrush for a few minutes, not adding paint but visualising the ways the people might move. Then she carefully unscrewed the top from the pot of
animare
and dipped her paintbrush in. The paint swirled and moved on the hairs of the brush, as if it couldn't wait to get onto the painting. Bianca chewed her lip as she worked – this was fine detail, and undoing it would be a real pain. She started small: a swoosh along the jaw of the lady to make her head tilt back and forward, a few swipes along the horses' legs in a careful rhythm made them move up and down as if they were trotting along the road.

The pilgrims slowly but surely came to life as Bianca painted. A smile came and went on the priest's chubby face; the soldier at the back nodded to his companion; the saddlebags on the ponies swayed back and forth. After a while, Bianca's stomach grumbled and she sat back to take it all in. It wasn't the elaborate lifelike movement her master would have been able to add, but it was pretty good for an hour's work!

Bianca was so pleased that she even smiled at Lucia as she passed her in the corridor on the way to the kitchen. Lucia smiled back, which gave Bianca a stab of worry deep in her stomach  …  but she was starving, and whatever Lucia was planning for her next, it could wait until after she'd eaten.

‘What's for lunch, Angela?' Bianca greeted the kitchen girl with a broad smile.

Angela returned her a look of surprise. ‘Well, it
was
omelettes with sweet pepper and spiced sausage  … '

Bianca's mouth watered, but her face fell. ‘Was?'

‘Lucia said you weren't coming,' Angela said in a small voice. ‘I'm so sorry – it must've been a mix-up. We've just given the leftovers to the cat! I would make you another, only we're out of eggs  … '

‘No, no, it's fine,' Bianca sighed, looking down at the scruffy white and ginger cat as it wolfed down the last of the bright red and yellow omelette. ‘I'd better get back to work.'

Here we go again  … 

Bianca hurried back down the corridor, her feet slapping hard on the black-and-white tiled floor, a ball of apprehension starting to grow in her gut. Just how many times was Lucia going to do something like this before she got used to the idea of Bianca being in charge?

Bianca made herself slow down and walk casually into the studio, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing her run. At first, she breathed a sigh of relief to see that the apprentices were all in their places and nothing was actually on fire – then she looked at the Cathedral painting and felt sick. Something – someone – had brushed against the magical paint before it was dry, and now the pilgrims were swaying back and forth lifelessly like marionettes dangling from their strings on the front of a puppeteer's stall.