Mirrorscape Page 9

  ‘Yes, they do. It was our way of poking fun at the Mysteries,’ said Wren. ‘Great, aren’t they?’

  ‘They’re amazing!’ said Mel. ‘So you can draw, too.’

  ‘Almost as well as you, I imagine. But girls aren’t allowed to be apprentices so I just worked with my father until ….’ She looked away. ‘Look, now that you know how to get in, why don’t we meet here every evening, after work. It can be our secret place.’

  ‘Wonderful!’ said Ludo and Mel together.

  ‘Now, we must all get back to our duties before someone misses us. Especially you, Mel. You can’t afford another mistake. I’ll see you both later.’

  Supper had finished and the three friends were back inside the clock.

  Mel took a deep breath and started to tell them of all the things that had happened to him. He told them of his meeting with Dirk Tot in Kop and his encounter with Adolfus Spute in the fane, of their flight to Vlam and the meeting he had witnessed between Dirk Tot and the Fifth Mystery on the road. He recounted how he had seen Groot stealing the pigments from the storeroom and how his crime had been covered up – by Dirk Tot.

  Suddenly, they were interrupted by a whirring noise.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Ludo.

  ‘The clock. It’s about to strike the hour,’ said Wren. ‘Watch.’

  The machinery around them came alive. The bells, struck by an army of small hammers, pealed loudly in the enclosed space. The figures began to spin and jerk their limbs, and the belt they were attached to began to move. The figures filed out of the small door at the right of the space and their shadows danced across the glass clock face. Then they returned through the left-hand door. Above their heads the stars and planets did the same.

  Laughing loudly, the friends collapsed on to the floor as the performance ended.

  ‘You know, that’s the first good laugh I’ve had since I arrived in Vlam,’ said Mel.

  ‘Come on, finish your story.’ Wren was as eager to hear it as Ludo.

  When the noise died away, Mel detailed his visit to the House of Mysteries, his escape from the High-Bailiff, his strange encounter with the coloured men and their journey through who-knows-where. His tale ended with Wren taking him through the secret passage back to the dormitory. The only thing he left out was the tiny box and its mysterious contents. If he told them about it he would have to admit he was a thief.

  ‘That’s quite some story,’ said Wren.

  ‘We had no idea,’ said Ludo.

  ‘But I just don’t understand any of it,’ confessed Mel.

  ‘Well,’ said Ludo, ‘Groot’s a thief. That’s no surprise. He must be stealing the pigment to pay for his drinking and gambling. You’ve got something on him now, Mel. Something you can use against him.’

  ‘And the coloured men,’ said Wren. ‘They must be fugitives from the mines on Kig. The pigment gets into their skin and eventually it colours them completely. Not many ever escape. The pigments are toxic and it usually kills the miners after a while. It’s called the Coloured Death.’ Her voice trembled slightly. She could not help but think of her father.

  ‘What I can’t work out is why Dirk Tot should be working with the Fifth Mystery,’ said Mel. ‘Do either of you have any idea?’

  ‘No,’ said Wren, shrugging her shoulders. ‘He always seems so dead set against them.’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Ludo.

  ‘I bet we could find out if we explored the secret passages,’ said Mel.

  ‘The service passages,’ corrected Wren.

  ‘But what do you think about the strange journey that the coloured men took me on?’ asked Mel.

  ‘Let’s start with the things we can find an answer for,’ said Wren. ‘Then, perhaps, we’ll find out a bit more about the other things.’

  She produced the little key and three candles from the pocket of her pinafore. ‘I think we should start with Dirk Tot’s study.’

  ‘Secret passages? What are we waiting for?’ said Ludo.

  Opposite the clock, just across the gallery, was an entrance into the passages. After the door was closed, the busy sounds of the mansion were shut out, and they felt enclosed in their own parallel world. The air was very close and the yellow light from their candles cast shadows tall and grotesque on the wall.

  ‘Now, keep it quiet. Remember, there are rooms with people just the other side of the panelling,’ warned Wren. ‘I just hope we don’t meet anyone while we’re in here.’

  ‘What, you mean like monsters or ghosts?’ joked Ludo. ‘Whooooo!’

  ‘Shhhh!’ said Wren. ‘No, silly. I hope we don’t bump into any of the other servants. Now, come on.’

  Mel and Ludo followed Wren but could not help casting the occasional uneasy look behind them as they threaded their way along in single file.

  ‘Dirk Tot’s study is just up here,’ whispered Wren. She carefully began to mount the uneven stairs, and then, halfway up, Ludo stumbled into Mel. The trio froze and held their breath. After a while, they continued until they stood outside the study. Wren put her ear to the door. She turned to her friends and shook her head.

  ‘There’s someone in there. We’ll have to come back some other time,’ she whispered as she led them back.

  ‘Where to now?’ asked Mel.

  Before she could answer, they heard the sound of footsteps. Wren pushed the two boys down a side passage. They blew out their candles and waited in blackness darker than any of them had ever known.

  Please don’t let us get caught, thought Mel. Not now. Please, please, please.

  Slowly, the footsteps faded. A few moments passed before Wren said, ‘I think it’s safe to light our candles again.’

  ‘Let’s get out of here,’ whispered Ludo.

  ‘I thought you wanted to help us find out what’s going on,’ said Wren.

  ‘It’s too risky.’

  ‘We’re in here now,’ said Mel. ‘We might not get another chance for ages.’

  ‘Please. Let’s go on for a bit longer,’ said Wren, ‘or we’re never going to find anything out.’

  They both looked at Ludo.

  ‘I suppose so. What’s down there?’ he asked, indicating a new direction.

  ‘That the way to the master’s private studio,’ said Wren.

  ‘No one’s ever allowed in there,’ said Ludo, ‘not even Groot.’

  ‘Let’s just take a look,’ said Mel, his excitement winning over caution.

  ‘Fine,’ said Wren. ‘But let me lead. And keep quiet.’

  They set off towards the studio. Eventually, Wren signalled for them to halt. She put a finger to her lips and then pointed into the darkness ahead of them. A tiny sliver of light indicated where a door stood slightly ajar.

  If I never get to see anything else in my life, I’ve got to see this, thought Mel.

  They crept up to the door. Then, Mel crouching, Wren standing and Ludo on tiptoe, each put one eye to the crack.

  The master stood before a painting on a large easel that dominated a spacious, whitewashed room lit by gas brackets around the walls. From their hiding place, the watchers could not see what the canvas depicted. Mel took in the bright tapestries and a number of large, unframed paintings that leaned against the far wall. Several tables were stacked with tottering piles of books and artist’s materials, and a huge, richly coloured rug covered most of the floor. In the far corner he saw a bulky cage in which several strange creatures chattered and swung to and fro. With surprise he realised that they were white monkeys like Albinus but coloured in different ways – one striped, one in harlequin quarters, one spotted and another patterned in rainbow hoops.

  As they watched, the master raised his hand in front of the canvas and moved it in an elaborate gesture as if he were tracing a complicated design in the air. He moved closer to the canvas and –

  The trio gasped. ‘He’s vanished!’

  The Fugitive Garden

  The friends were so astounded by what they had witnessed that they fell h
eadlong through the door into the studio and landed in a heap. Their candles were extinguished in the fall. The patterned monkeys began screeching loudly and jumping around inside their cage, rattling the bars.

  Wren picked herself up, rushed to the main door and looked out into the corridor. ‘All clear.’

  ‘Quiet, please be quiet,’ pleaded Ludo with the monkeys.

  ‘You’ve a knack with animals,’ said Wren as the shrieking died down. ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘It’s nothing, really, when you know how.’ Ludo smiled to himself. ‘Hey, Mel, the master must have liked what you did to Albinus so much that he’s tried something similar on these guys.’ A sketch of the newly green and white pet was pinned up next to the cage.

  But Mel was studying the canvas. ‘Come here, you two. There’s something you have to see.’

  The canvas depicted a landscape in the unmistakeable, hyper-real style of Ambrosius Blenk. It was so finely painted it seemed to glow. An ethereal blue sky was studded with white clouds. In the foreground grew odd, alien trees with spiral trunks and ripe, speckled fruit hanging from their branches. A variety of brightly coloured, hybrid creatures grazed contentedly on the lush pasture that led down to a placid lake. On a small island, right in the centre of the lake, stood a head-shaped building that seemed to have crystallised out of the rock on which it stood. It had an expansive, thatched roof that resembled shaggy hair, peppered with random plants and the occasional stork’s nest. Thick ivy grew around it like a beard. There were two great windows for eyes, above which projected shallow, sloping roofs like brows, and the entrance was in the form of a gaping mouth. A portcullis appeared like teeth, reinforcing the carefully crafted illusion. From the shore of the lake, a tongue-like bridge, built from red brick, spanned the waters and disappeared into the entrance. On the bridge, dressed exactly as they had seen him moments before, was the perfectly painted form of the master.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ said Wren.

  ‘It’s completely different from anything that he sends across for us to work on,’ observed Ludo.

  ‘You don’t understand,’ said Mel. ‘A moment ago, the master was depicted here, in the foreground. Now look.’

  The master had moved further along the bridge.

  ‘How did he do that?’ said Ludo.

  ‘I don’t know. Look again.’

  The master had gone.

  ‘Now he’s inside the building,’ said Mel.

  ‘What’re you saying? That it’s painted with some kind of vanishing paint?’ suggested Ludo.

  ‘No. I’m saying that I think the master’s somehow managed to get inside his picture.’

  ‘How can you get inside a painting? It’s ridiculous.’ Ludo prodded the surface of the picture. It was still wet but as solid as any other stretched canvas.

  ‘You saw the master vanish,’ said Wren.

  ‘Yes! And remember I told you about the coloured men, the ones that kidnapped me? Well, before they put the sack back over my head, I had a moment to look around. The landscape was different from this one but it feels the same. The way everything’s perfect. It isn’t like nature at all. Just before I was whisked out of the House of Mysteries I had my back to a painting. And when I was released, there was a painting there as well. I know it sounds crazy, but I think I was inside a picture with them.’

  ‘Which picture?’ asked Wren. ‘The one in the House of Mysteries or the one in the House of Spirits?’

  ‘I don’t know. Both of them perhaps. Or … I just don’t know,’ said Mel, shaking his head.

  ‘That’s impossible,’ scoffed Ludo. ‘Even if you could get inside a picture – which you can’t – how could you be inside two pictures at once? There must be a trapdoor here somewhere and the master used it when we weren’t looking.’

  ‘But we were looking, Ludo,’ said Wren. ‘We never took our eyes off him.’

  ‘You’re both talking rubbish. There’s a trapdoor. I bet it’s under the rug.’ Ludo relit his candle from one of the gas lamps and began inspecting the floor. He crawled behind the easel.

  ‘Look!’ Wren and Mel gasped.

  ‘Leave the candle there and come and look at this, Ludo,’ said Wren.

  With the picture illuminated from behind by the candlelight, the under-painting became discernable. All of the complicated brushwork that underlay the master’s technique, that made his pictures seem so real, was revealed. But more than meticulous brushwork was visible. In the centre of the picture, and painted in some denser medium that rendered it opaque, was a circle within which other lines twisted and whirled, creating a knot-like design.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Ludo.

  ‘I think it’s a symbol. Like a Fa’s diaglyph,’ said Mel.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Wren.

  ‘It’s something that means more than itself. Maybe it’s got something to do with the master vanishing.’

  ‘But he didn’t …. Look, it’s just a shape,’ said Ludo. ‘It can’t actually do anything. It’s just a paint stain.’

  ‘The painting wouldn’t look like it does without the under-painting. So maybe this is a part of the illusion as well. You saw the master trace something in the air just before he vanished. It could be this symbol.’

  ‘Come on, Mel. Are you telling me that it’s magic?’

  ‘No, it’s art. Fa Theum says that’s the only type of magic that exists in the real world.’

  ‘But art’s about things we can see,’ insisted Ludo.

  ‘You can no longer see the under-painting,’ said Wren. ‘Or the skill or time it took to paint – but they’re all locked up in there, too.’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Is it? My guess is that this thing’s an important part of the picture,’ said Mel, as he took a sheet of paper and a pencil. ‘I’m going to make a copy. See what else you can find.’

  Ludo shrugged and began sorting through the piles of books with Wren. ‘There’s a book full of drawings of animals here. I’ve seen some of these before in the master’s pictures.’

  ‘It’s his bestiary,’ said Mel. ‘I’ll have a look, as soon as I’ve finished this.’

  Ludo wandered over to inspect the large paintings stacked against the wall. ‘These must be the master’s private collection,’ he said as he sorted through them. ‘Wow! There’re a couple here by Lucas Flink.’

  ‘Really? They must be worth a fortune,’ said Wren.

  ‘Who’s Lucas Fink?’ asked Mel absently as he concentrated on his copy.

  ‘Flink. Only the greatest master of fantastic paintings – along with our master, of course.’

  ‘Does he have apprentices too?’ asked Mel.

  ‘He might have had once, but he’s been dead two hundred years. That’s odd. This canvas is still wet. How could the paint on something this old not be dry yet?’

  ‘Quiet!’ Wren crossed to the door and placed her ear against it. ‘Quick, someone’s coming.’

  Ludo snatched his candle from the floor and followed her to the service passage. ‘Mel, come on!’

  Mel hastily finished his sketch and stole one last look at the canvas, which appeared normal again now with no trace of the hidden design. He joined the others and they closed the door to a crack just as Dirk Tot entered the studio. He looked suspiciously about the room. Then he approached the painting before withdrawing some phials of pigment from his reticule and arranging them with the master’s other painting equipment. He took another look around the room before leaving. They heard him turn the key in the lock after him.

  ‘Wherever there’s a mystery, he turns up,’ said Wren.

  ‘Well, we’ve learned something this evening. If you know how, you can get inside a picture,’ said Mel.

  ‘No, you can’t.’

  ‘Ludo, what’s it going to take before you accept what your eyes told you?’ said Wren.

  ‘If you’re so certain that you can get inside a picture, there’s a way to find out for sure,’ said Ludo. ‘We can mak
e one of our own.’

  The next morning the master visited the apprentices in their studio as usual. Mel looked up from his scrubbing as he and his entourage strode by. They exchanged smiles and Mel detected a wave of jealous hostility from Groot and his sidekicks. Mel contrived to clean a patch near Ludo so that they could talk.

  ‘He looks OK,’ said Mel in a low voice. ‘Wherever he went hasn’t done him any harm.’

  ‘That’s because he hasn’t been anywhere. Meet me in the clock after supper and I’ll prove it to you. Watch out.’ Ludo made himself look busy as Groot scanned the studio, looking for Mel.

  During one of his many visits to the courtyard to replenish his cleaning water, Mel noticed a door standing ajar. He looked about him, then approached it and entered. The door led, by way of a short covered passage, to the strangest garden he had ever seen. Along one side of the high-walled space were several beds of brightly coloured flowers. One contained only the primary colours, red, yellow and blue, and another the secondary colours, green, orange and purple. Yet another held an entire rainbow spectrum. Not only were there red, orange, yellow, green, blue, indigo and violet plants, but between them many intermediate shades, so that the whole effect was of a rainbow laid out on the ground. Still another bed contained earthy, tertiary colours and one more was planted with unusual, achromatic plants: black, white and every shade of grey in between. As if all this was not strange enough, the opposite side of the garden contained the mirror image, except that the plants there were made of painted wood. Some of the colours were as vivid as their natural counterparts, others less so. Kneeling there, tending these artificial plants, was Dirk Tot. Without looking up from what he was doing, he said, ‘Skiving off from your cleaning, Mel?’

  ‘No, I ….’ He could not think of an excuse.

  ‘It’s all right. Can’t say I blame you. If I had my way you’d be doing something more useful than scrubbing floors. I know the master feels the same – but Groot’s in charge of the apprentices and we won’t interfere. Don’t be downhearted, though. All apprentices start out with a few days of menial labour. It never lasts long.’

  Mel knew Dirk Tot was mistaken in this. He would never be given anything useful to do while Groot was in charge.