Page 16 of What Dreams May Come
From behind me, I heard Venera’s panicked voice. “Rosie, the way out is gone.What do we do?”
I turned toward her, still smiling. “We follow through with our plan with increased vigor, for now unless we wish to show our faces—”
“Youdo not.”
“No. So we have a deadline.” I grinned at her. “Count Prospero seeks to frighten and intimidate, but remember, we’re not lofty nobles. We’re molded from the common clay.”
Venera stilled. “Are we?”
“My family are vintners.” It was true. The Montagues made fine wines. We had risen from the rich dirt of the Veneto to be prosperous and respected, and at the same time, we kept our estates where we grew our grapes. “What about your family?”
She hesitated as if the memories pained her, then confessed, “Long ago they were respectable merchants in Florence. They wished me to marry a toothless decaying lord to gain a title for our family. I would not, and my parents...I don’t care where they are. I’ve made a new life, and now my family resides at La Gnocca.” She nodded decisively. “Yes, it’s well to remember who we are andwhat we seek.”
“We can escape through back entrances and open windows, and we don’t hesitate to descend to a lower level to leave this place. No locked and barred doors can hold us, and we have no fear for our plan is sound.” If I do say so myself, I give agood pep talk.
“Look, there he is, Count Prospero himself.” Venera pointed at a satyr-masked man in shadowed clothing and gave me a push. “Go quickly!”
I ducked through the crowd, and as I did, from across the ballroom, I heard Gordiana shout, “My strongbox. He took my strongbox! Thief! Thief!” She projected well; had she once been a singer inthetrovatori?
A few voices took up theshout ofThief!
Then a call of, “What’s inside? Let’s seewhat’s inside!”
Ah, curiosity. I had depended on that, and when men and women started screaming and, toward the door, shouting to Prospero’s henchmen to open, I knew my plan was proceeding as I desired.
Berengaria bellowed,“Open or die!”
How I loved these women! How well they improvised their parts!
Quartiglia bumpedme from behind.
Startled, I jumped.
“Getting nervous, Lady Rosaline?” She grinned cheekily.
It seemed I was.
“I see Count Prospero to the left. Go right!”she instructed.
I nodded. We exchanged boxes and parted ways, with me going across the river of people flooding towardthe front door.
The box weighed more than any of the others I’d held. With the rushing here and there and the being on constant lookout, I was tiring, and the burden dragged at my arms.
Then! Somehow, Count Prospero found me again. I caught a glimpse of him fighting his way toward me. I fled, glancing behind me, not understanding how he had tracked me, how he managed to be so manyplaces at once.
I was sweating, wrapped in the linen to disguise my figure, and sweating more as thoughts unnerved me. Was Count Prospero indeed demonic? In league with thedevil himself?
As I looked back, I slammed into a man’s body. He grabbed me by the arms, steadied me, and asked, “Rosie,what’s wrong?”
I stared in astonishment. In the light, Madame Culatello in gentleman’s clothing looked very manlike, her voice an octave lower than I’d previously heard, yet her face was as feminine as before. She held a strongbox tucked under her arm, and when I said, “Come on!” she followed without question.
I dragged her behind a velvet curtain. “Count Prospero has tagged me. He finds me wherever I am.” I feared him, a man who reveled in and abused his power, and I admit to panic. It had seemed so simple tonight when Count Prospero had thrown down the challenge. Now I realized how much more I had to lose than I had imagined: if he hunted me down, I would die.
She peeked out the right side of the curtain and stared over the heads of the milling crowd. “No. Oh, Rosie, no! That’s—”
On the left side, a massive, battered, beef-shank-sized fist clutched the velvet and the man in the scarlet satyr mask flung it back to reveal us.
Madame Culatello gasped. “No! Rosie, run!” She leaped at him, slammed herself into him. It was like seeing a ram attack an ox, for Count Prospero both outweighed her and contained within himself the ability—nay, the desire—to subjugate and harm.
