The Mourning Emporium (17 page)

Bajamonte Tiepolo, Orphan-Maker.

Teo felt dizzy at a depth of villainy that seemed to crisscross the whole world, all because she’d been too cowardly to put an end to Bajamonte Tiepolo when she had a perfect opportunity, and indeed, a duty to do so. Her parents had been kidnapped and Professor Marìn had lain in agony for weeks because of her weakness.

He wheezed. “It’s been too many days. I have no feeling in my right side now … I can smell the infection of the wound myself. The only reason that I am still alive … is that Sofonisba has foraged for me.”

“The poor professor is delirious,” Teo thought. “Sofonisba is dead.”

Yet at that moment a tabby-colored muzzle poked through a small hole in the false wall. In it was a ripe pear. Giving Teo a suspicious look, Sofonisba emerged fully into the room and dropped the pear by Professor Marìn. Around him, Teo noticed, were more pear cores and the pips of cherries and grapes.

“You’re alive!” Teo reached out to caress the cat. “We thought you’d drowned. So that’s why there was no storm after you walked the plank!”

This single piece of good news in the midst of all the tragedy was the one that moved Teo to tears. Mixed in with the emotion of the moment was the realization that Renzo had not after all lied about stealing the fruit.

“Indeed,” replied the cat coolly. She flapped delicate little wings above her flanks. “I simply flew in through the heads.” She wrinkled her pretty nose. “I’ve been—shall we say?—discreet in my appearances since then.”

“You kept those wings well hidden! Why didn’t you come to tell us what was happening?”

“The professor forbade me. He was afraid of childish heroics on your part! He kept telling me, ‘If the boys knew anything, she’d just torture it out of them.’ It’s true—he’s only safe down here because she thinks he’s already dead.”

Teo rose unsteadily to her feet. Shock and pity made her vision muzzy. Her heart was palpitating violently. “I’ll get medicine, forceps; Renzo can extract the bullet—he’s so good with his hands,” she gabbled. “Perhaps there’s some Venetian Treacle in the medicine chest.”

“Do not waste time on me, child. Save the medicine. You will need it for yourselves, I fear. In London.”

“So she’s taking us to London? Where the mermaids have gone?”

“And you must go. First … we must accept that Venice may not survive this new assault … by Il Traditore … and secondly … London will need your help. Thirdly … I think your parents may be there. The Undrowned Child and the Studious Son will … Teodora, you must be vigilant. If that woman finds out your true identity … you will be in even worse danger … if possible.”

“I’ll be careful. And I’ll look after Renzo,” Teo promised tearfully. She could not bring herself to tell the dying man how she and Renzo were estranged.

“And Miss Uish may not be your … only enemy in these waters. The cold undertow will likely bring to the surface many ancient creatures that have for centuries confined themselves to the darkest … most freezing zones of the ocean.”

Teo whispered, “We’ve heard something—I’m sure. It takes the rats we throw overboard.” She did not say, though she thought, “And the hostages.” She would spare the professor the knowledge that his good ship had become a wicked pirate vessel.

“And the Scilla was never meant for … such a long voyage at sea. The poor old boat is nail-sick. It pains me to hear how she labors.… Her rivets are loose and the planks may not defend you from … what is below. Go now, child. I cannot talk more.… It is best that … you talk with the Studious Son and decide on your course … together. Explain.… You must fight for your lives, for Venice.”

“But Venice …”

“You did not leave Venice, Teodora, just because you were forced to sail away from her.”

Miss Uish was snoring on the deck when Teo crept back up there. Peaglum was at the wheel, singing nasally to himself, his back to both of them. Teo released Emilio and Fabrizio from their bonds and the three of them slipped down to the cabin.

“Wake up!” they whispered, shaking each hammock in turn.

“Professor Marìn is alive!—well, barely. Sofonisba kept him alive by stealing fruit for him. She’s alive, too! Miss Uish is an impostor. She shot the professor and imprisoned him down in the cargo hold. And she wants to kill … Anyway, we have to take over this ship! We have to mutiny! Then Professor Marìn says we have to take the Scilla to London.…”

Nine pairs of eyes stared at her, wide with fear. Renzo’s flashed with something she could not read. Did he not believe her?

“I don’t …,” began Rosato.

“How can we …?” whimpered Marco.

Sebastiano dalla Mutta growled, “I’m up for it!”

“I’m thinking, me too!” Emilio balled his fist.

“And me!” Massimo whispered.

“So what should we do with them?” asked Marco. “Even if we could knock them down and take them prisoner?”

“Tie ’em up and take ’em back to Venice!” Sebastiano cried out.

“Give ’em to the police,” insisted Giovanni.

Teo was stern. “We can’t take her to Venice, where the Mayor is in love with her and doesn’t care a button for the lives of Venetian orphans! Who’s he going to believe, her or us? One bat of those eyelashes and we’ll be the ones thrown in prison. For mutiny on the high seas. And piracy.”

“But I don’t want to go to London,” pleaded Marco in a very small voice. “I want to go home.”

Renzo reminded them, “Venice must be frozen solid now. We could not get the Scilla within miles of the shore. We could get trapped in ice that would break up the boat. And then we’d all drown.”

“Including your darling Sibella, I suppose?” said Fabrizio.

Renzo flushed, but ignored that. He said somberly, “And the Half-Dead disease will surely have put the whole town into quarantine now. If not worse.”

Teo jutted out her chin. “We’ll have to agree to Professor Marìn’s plan. We are trapped on this ship and we must act as one.”

“So do we have to kill them? Miss Uish and Peaglum?” Giovanni whispered.

“We have to do whatever it takes,” responded Teo.

“Wouldn’t we be as bad as them, then?” asked Rosato.

A rat trotted into the cabin and stared intently at Teo, as if it too hung on the answer that she did not know how to give.

Renzo said pointedly, “She said tomorrow it’s two lashes each for the stolen fruit. And we can’t tell her it was actually Sofonisba who did it, can we?”

“Tomorrow we put an end to the bullying,” vowed Teo, meeting his eye. “And the lying.”

The rest of the night passed in furious planning.

But first Renzo made his way to the ship’s medicine chest in the galley, prising its old padlock open with a fork. He groaned. His first glimpse inside revealed only antique cauterizing irons, forceps and grippers for extracting teeth. Raking through the box, he selected a few items, decanted some brandy and boiled a small pan of water to take down to Professor Marìn.

At the pitiful sight of the professor, Renzo stood trembling and uncertain in the doorway.

“You see me in reduced … circumstances, son.” Professor Marìn’s voice was so weak as to be almost inaudible.

Renzo steadied himself. Using a tooth-gripper, he extracted the bullet, mopped the blood with clean rags and bandaged the wound, having first splashed it with brandy to disinfect it. Then he carefully washed the blood-matted hair, cut off the filthy shirt, and replaced it with a clean nightshirt he’d found in the medicine chest. The professor twice fainted from the pain during this procedure. But he gripped Renzo’s hand gratefully at the end of it, whispering, “Thank you, son. Now go! You must not be caught down here! … Spare the boys the awful truth, Renzo, as much as possible.… The more they know, the more dangerous it is … for them.”

The next morning dawned fair, except for the blot of the cobwebbed black ship on the horizon.

The sailors crept up on deck. Sibella never showed herself before midmorning. Miss Uish was nowhere to be seen.

“Nursing a terrible headache in her stateroom,” guessed Teo.

Peaglum was bustling about, happily stirring the cat-o’-nine-tails in its flagon of vinegar. He was looking forward to the punishments, singing a nasty sea shanty at the top of his untuneful voice. In the lyrics, a young sailor was slowly lashed to death over five verses and finally thrown to the sharks.

So it was relatively easy to sneak up behind Peaglum and run a thin black trip-rope from the hawse to the base of the mast. Hearing Rosato’s whistle, Peaglum promptly turned and took an ill-fated step. Once he was flat on his face, three boys jumped on his back, just as they’d rehearsed down in the cabin. Fabrizio, Emilio, Massimo and Rosato each took a foot or an arm. Peaglum was trussed up like a goat. Teo dipped a rag in Peaglum’s flagon of vinegar and stuffed it into his mouth.

Then it was a question of waiting till Miss Uish emerged. The sailors stood warily on deck, alert to every creak from below. An hour passed; a second. Finally, her harsh voice called up the stairs. “Malfeasance! Come clear my room!”

Peaglum grunted inarticulately.

“Malfeasance! Malfeasance! You’ll pay for this!”

Miss Uish tottered up into the daylight. Her face was pale, her eyes dull. They fell on the captured Peaglum. Her mouth opened, but before she could speak, Rosato sent the boom spinning across the deck to smack the back of Miss Uish’s head. She fell forward like a stone, her revolver hurtling across the planks. Teo caught it and tucked it into her belt.

“Good work!” shouted Sebastiano enthusiastically.

“Is she dead?” asked Giovanni nervously.

“No, just winded. Quick!”

They piled on top of Miss Uish and lashed her feet with bits of oakum. Emilio was attempting to bind her hands when Professor Marìn limped on deck, his eyes screwed up against the sun he’d not seen in weeks. Miss Uish gasped in disbelief. The boys cried out in alarm at the dreadful color of his skin. Renzo rushed to his side, slipping his arm under the professor’s to prop him up.

Suddenly, Miss Uish laughed out loud. She slipped her fingers into a pocket of her dress and drew out a tiny pearl-handled pistol. “Here’s the weak point in your plan,” she chuckled, “a girl’s best friend, always willing and able when needed. Your best friend, the professor, on the other hand, has turned up at exactly the wrong moment, hasn’t he? Distracted you when you should have been tying me up properly! That naughty professor should be punished, shouldn’t he, brats?”

She lifted her pistol and shot Professor Marìn through the heart. Then she pointed the pistol at Renzo, who was trying to lay the staggering professor gently down on the deck. Teo stamped her boot on Miss Uish’s wrist, pinioning the hand that held the pistol.

The professor lay crumpled and motionless. Renzo leaned over him tenderly, examining the wound, stroking his bloodied hair and hollow cheeks.

“Isn’t there anything you can do, Renzo?” pleaded Teo.

Renzo felt for the pulse, and shook his head, white-lipped.

“Is he really …?” Rosato wept.

“Murderess!” Teo whispered. She drew Miss Uish’s revolver from her belt, and aimed it with a shaking hand.

“You wouldn’t dare, Nestle Tripe,” sneered Miss Uish, trying to extract her wrist from under Teo’s boot.

“Wouldn’t I?” Teo cocked the trigger, as she’d seen Miss Uish do a hundred times in front of a helpless animal. Her voice came out too high, too girlish. Miss Uish stared at her, with too much understanding in her eyes.

“A-are you …?” stuttered Miss Uish. “Could you be …?”

Sibella appeared above them on the forecastle, a vision in white satin.

“If Teodoro shoots her, he’ll be nothing but a detestable common murderer himself,” she remarked.

Teo took the opportunity to kick the pearl-handled pistol out of Miss Uish’s hand. The plan slipped smoothly back into motion. Sebastiano and Giovanni each grabbed one of Miss Uish’s arms, and Emilio tied them together behind her. Then Renzo quietly removed the revolver from Teo’s shaking fingers and threw it overboard, along with the pistol.

“No! Give them a taste of their own medicine!” screamed Sebastiano.

“Too late. The guns are gone. Treat them the way she treated the cat!” shouted Giovanni.

“Yes! Like the poor cat! Make ’em walk the plank!” agreed Sebastiano.

“That,” insisted Emilio, “would be too dignified for the likes of them. Remember Sofonisba.”

“Yes, remember me!” Sofonisba herself now leapt up the companionway and looked down on them all from the forecastle, where she commenced a vigorous licking of her tail and whiskers. The sailors whooped joyfully. A look of anger and surprise swept across Miss Uish’s face.

“With the ship’s cat safe, we’ll get our luck back!” cried Rosato.

“Don’t count on it,” remarked Sofonisba. “Now, where exactly is my master?”

Her eyes lit on the body of her beloved professor. She bounded over to him, licking his face, nudging him with her muzzle. When she discovered the new wound, she keened loudly, laying herself down upon his breast and curling up in pain. The boys’ tears overtook them then. For many minutes, they stood around their professor, shaking with grief.

A scornful laugh from Miss Uish reminded them of what they now faced.

“Even if we make it all the way to London, what are we going to do with them in the meantime?” Sebastiano gave the two captives a baleful look.

Peaglum struggled furiously. Miss Uish now lay disdainfully silent.

“Hungry!” whined Peaglum indistinctly.

“Well, of course, you must both be absolutely starving,” Sebastiano answered. “Do you fancy a nice cup of warm marrowfat, perhaps?”

“Now, that’s not an uninteresting idea,” purred Sofonisba.

“Perfect!” approved Giovanni, rushing off to the galley. In two minutes, he returned with a jug of swarthy liquid still steaming from the cauldron. The spout was forced into the mouth of first Peaglum and then Miss Uish until each had swallowed a long, deep swig of marrowfat.

Not quite swallowed, it turned out.

For Miss Uish opened her rosebud lips and spat a gush of oil on to the ropes that bound her hands. Her wrists slid easily out of bondage. With one fist she grabbed Renzo’s ankle, tipping him backward on to the deck.