Jack of Ravens

3

Lucia loitered alongside the canal where Tom had told her to keep watch. The sounds of revelry were muted there. Nearby, but hidden by the fog, her owl hooted mournfully. Adjusting her mask, which resembled a beautiful doll with pale skin and bright-red cheeks, she considered using an incantation to bring some light to the gloomy, lonely street. She was still amazed at how powerfully her Craft worked now that she was a Sister of Dragons. When she was a child in Sicilia, learning the words and rituals from her mother, who had learned them from her mother before her, she’d had many small successes: controlling small animals, shifting the moods of friends and enemies, altering the balance of fortune slightly. But it had been nothing like what she could do now. Most of the time she felt almost bursting with power, ready to bend even the weather to her will. It was increasingly addictive.

A man in a skull mask and skeleton costume appeared out of the fog and walked by. He nodded to her and continued on his way before halting under an arch, where he gave a short whistle that ended on an interrogatory note.

Within seconds, a man in a dog mask appeared behind Lucia. She sensed his presence and looked around as another man with a clown mask joined him. Lucia’s heart beat a little faster. Before she would have been scared, but her confidence in the Craft filled her with bravado.

The three men surrounded her. ‘A doll,’ the Skeleton said, ‘a toy for our play.’

‘Lay one finger on me and you will live to regret it,’ Lucia said defiantly.

The three men looked at each other and laughed, their masks making their actions eerie. The Skeleton drew a small knife and moved towards Lucia, who backed to the edge of the canal. Her heels went over the edge and she teetered, only just catching herself. Brief panic scrambled the words of power she had been about to utter, and that made her panic more acute.

‘Canal vermin!’ she said, not showing it.

The Skeleton brandished his knife.

From the shadows came a bright English voice laced with wit: ‘Sheath your blade, good brother, for its size only embarrasses you.’

A man in a gaudy harlequin costume stepped into the small circle of light cast by the lone torch. He drew a rapier and flexed the tip against the flags. Lucia could see his balletic poise and strength, but the costume made him look like an unthreatening dandy.

‘You see, my weapon is most impressive,’ he said.

The Skeleton continued to advance on Lucia while the others drew their swords and turned to face the Harlequin. Before they could attack, he flamboyantly drew a scarlet silk scarf and presented it to them on the palm of his hand. The men stared at it, dumbfounded. Snapping his head to one side, the Harlequin whisked the scarf into the air. A blinding flash burst as phosphorus dust ignited.

Dazzled, the Dog gamely thrust his sword forward, but the Harlequin parried quickly, returned the thrust and disarmed his attacker. As the sword clattered to the flags, the Harlequin cuffed the Dog unconscious with his hilt. The Clown blinked, but had no time to recover. The Harlequin propelled him into the canal with a kick to the chest.

At the same moment Lucia grabbed the Skeleton’s arm and twisted it behind his back. A second later he was in the water, too. She flinched as the Harlequin grabbed her hand.

‘This doll has a lively attitude,’ he said. The two attackers distracted him as they attempted to climb out of the canal. ‘Enough sport with rats. Best not to dally, lest they travel in packs.’

The Harlequin flung Lucia over his shoulder and despite her protests ran along the edge of the canal until he found a secluded alley not far from the revelry at the Piazza San Marco. He lowered Lucia gently to her feet and waited for thanks. Instead he received a sharp slap to the face.

‘A kiss would have been preferable,’ he said, rubbing his cheek.

Lucia bristled. ‘If I wanted your help I would have shouted for a fool.’

The Harlequin was baffled. ‘I saw a lady in distress. Your life or honour-’

‘My life and honour are my own. I need no man to protect them.’

‘So you think,’ the Harlequin said dismissively.

‘So I know.’ Lucia pulled a knife from her dress and shook it at the Harlequin. He didn’t flinch.

‘Next time I will leave you to your own devices,’ he said.

‘Good.’

As he began to walk away, Lucia asked, ‘What is an Englishman doing here, in enemy territory?’

‘You would rather I had been elsewhere,’ he said sarcastically, ‘and left you to the hands of your admirers?’

‘A question answers a question,’ she teased. ‘I fear you have something to hide.’

‘Enjoy the carnival, my lady.’

As the Harlequin made to leave, Lucia leaped forward and attempted to pluck his mask free. The Harlequin grasped it in time.

‘This is not the time for unmasking.’ He waved a cautionary finger.

A whistle like the one the Skeleton had made echoed nearby, but this one was clearly intended for the Harlequin. He gave Lucia a laddish grin. ‘Anon, fair doll.’

Then he was gone, and Lucia realised that behind her annoyance there was intrigue.