I helped donna Arsago into the boat, handed her the prayer book and watched the outgoing gondola with relief. I was free now! For the next eight hours Ines and I could do whatever we wanted.

To be honest, donna Arsago didn`t burden us with too many tasks so we just sat idly most of time. However, we couldn`t go search for the crypt − due to my aunt, of course. She managed to annoy me even there! Not to mention Scarpa with his stupid jokes and tricks…

However, it wasn't just me he was victimizing. Sirocco made the jester really obnoxious and I wondered how donna Arsago tolerated him. It was very dull and stuffy in the house, only the monotonous wind was blowing, getting on our nerves even more than Scarpa`s mockeries.

Joanna only shrugged, her rich fan moving up and down. “Well, apparently, the wind blew out the remnants of his mind from his little head. Just ignore him, my dear." Pulcino spent those days in the lagoon, staying away from the poisoned air of the city.

Don Arsago was the only one who didn`t care either about the weather or the alarming news from the Golden Palace. He always came down to dinner in the best of moods, joking with Scarpa, smiling at the Countess, who was fading like a flower day after day. His energetic nature was the only thing that enlivened our dreary days. Now that he'd stopped talking about the wedding, I liked him much better.

Last night at dinner Scarpa sat down not far from me and began to spoil my appetite with his poisonous hints. When Bianca complained about the wind's weeping at night, the jester chuckled.

“Maybe those are paurozos singing who came after their mistress? I feel that something fatal has entered our house with senhorita Julia…”

I gave him a scathing look that made the jester hide behind the jug and pretend to be frightened to death. His fool's cap stood out like a bright-red cock's crest.

“What are you raving about, you little slacker?" asked the Count, interrupting his conversation with don Sacketti.

"Oh, nothing. Nothing at all, my lord!" the jester muttered. “I am only a fool here. But they say that even the blind sometimes can see when the moon is full. If so, why can`t a jester become a prophet?” and he looked at me again with his ugly squinted eyes.

I almost dropped my fork. How did he know? What could he possibly know about my plans?!

In the meanwhile, the full moon was just two weeks away.

Luckily for me, don Arsago didn`t pay attention to his words as he was enthusiastically telling signor Sacchetti about the ancient manuscript he had got recently. His second passion (after gondola racing, of course) was collecting. The Count considered himself a connoisseur of curiosities, a kind of virtuoso. He had a secret room which was always locked. There, behind glass windows, he kept precious gems, medals, ancient coins and statuettes. I didn`t have a chance to admire those treasures as don Arsago pined over his collection like a dragon over its treasury. Everyone was strictly forbidden to enter it while he was absent.

And we were going there today, Ines and me. The moment was really convenient: the Countess went to Spinalonga, the men were away on business and even Scarpa, thank Horro, had disappeared somewhere. We managed to get rid of Assunta with the help of the cook, who promised to share with her a unique recipe for cooking small pies − pasticcino. That was Ines`s idea. In the end, I had to rely on her too as I couldn't steal the key from the castellan and make a duplicate by myself.

It seemed strange to me that the Count kept his collection in such a secret. There must be something else. What was he hiding? A secret passage, perhaps?

“Do you think that a secret passage will shed light on all their secrets?” Ines asked, still hesitating to go with me.

I was sure, somehow. I believed that finding a crypt was like finding a rod on which the strange events of the past few days had been strung like the rings of a curtain. At least I would find out who went there recently, and for what purpose.

When I waved goodbye to donna Arsago, I was about to return to the house. When suddenly a passing gondola slowed down, and its owner motioned me to come nearer. His eyes gleamed from under the hat.

“Are you senhorita Julia, the young master's fiancée?” he asked softly.

"That`s right. What do you want?”

I was wary. The ghost of aunt Assunta appeared over my shoulder, wagging a warning finger at me. A young patrician should not have conversed with a stranger alone.

The strange gondolier, however, wasn`t eager to make long speeches either. Instead he lowered his head and mumbled quickly.

“If you want to hear from people who care about you, come to St. Marina's church after three o'clock today."

"What people?" I wondered. But the man didn`t answer. His task was done and he quickly earned his oar again.

His gondola swung gracefully and was soon lost among the other vessels hurrying along the canal. I stayed alone on the dock. At first I thought that Enrique, who must be bored in his exile in Patava, decided to send me a message in such an unusual way. It was quite in the style of Venetian. Some grooms arranged whole performances under the windows of their beloved, with loud music and serenades. However, Enrique did not seem to be inclined to extravagance. And if not him, then who else could that be?

One of the footmen crept out on to the terrace. I came out from my reverie and hurried into the house. There was not a moment to lose! Donna Arsago would be back soon, and then Ines and I would have to spend the whole evening embroidering and listening to the ticking of the old clock on the mantelpiece. The strange gondolier and his message could wait. I didn`t have time to run on a secret date today.

Ines and I climbed to the top floor, watching for any sound. There was no one in the corridor. Several double doors trimmed with bronze in the dark.

"This door leads to the Hall of Masks," Ines whispered.

That was how don Arsago called his room with collection. The key in the lock turned obediently, the door creaked faintly – and we entered the forbidden cave.

That was a real cave with treasures, indeed. The room was small and octagonal, with a glass ceiling in frequent lead braid. Soft, diffused light fell from the dome. The floor was made of wood and looked quite old and worn-out for such a luxurious house. The transparent doors of the cupboards were gleaming, and behind them there were various dainty trinkets. The gold and smalt mosaics decorated the walls. There were cupboards at the four walls, one after next. Between them we could see tall old mirrors, looking straight at each other. The sight of their murky misty depths made me uneasy.

“Why is it called the Hall of Masks?" I whispered. The silence in the room was so deep that we were even afraid to breathe. Ines pointed up. I startled.

A white alabaster face stared back at me from the wall. There was another one at the other wall. And one more... Six masks looked at us from all sides, and each one looked was impossibly alive. Their emotions lashed our nerves like a whip. Pain. Pleasure. Anger. Contempt. Fear.

"It's ... terrible," I swallowed. The masks even made me forget what we were here for. The quiet harmony of the room with its graceful proportions and peaceful light was an eerie contrast to the distorted faces protruding from the walls.

“People said that during the last conspiracy the Count interrogated the traitors here. These masks are casts of their faces…" Ines whispered, her lips trembling.

I looked around again, horrified. Did I see Alessandro's features among those ghastly, eyeless faces? If his father was among the traitors… Madonna, I hope he had never been in this room!

I forced myself to look away from the masks. Suddenly I noticed one more mirror just in front of me. It looked as if it had been there for hundreds of years, had reflected thousands of faces and now did its job very reluctantly. Instead of my own silhouette, I saw a blurred spot. Due to the unusual arrangement of the mirrors, a series of reflections went deeper into each other, pushing the space apart. I stood in the middle of the room, and I felt as if I was at the crossroads of four roads that led somewhere beyond.

Suddenly something flashed in the grey depths of the mirror…

Ines grabbed my hand.

“Don't! Don't look in it or you`ll lose your soul!”

“Wait,” I whispered. There was a movement again and at the same time I felt someone else's presence. The sea sounds filled my ears. I tried to called Pulchino, but he didn't answer.

I ignored Ines`s attempts to stop me and approached the cold surface cautiously. My face was reflected in the mirror, but the eyes were different, like paurozo's – golden, with sharp vertical pupils. Scarpa's face flashed across mine, then a snarling mouth snapped open, making me to startle back. The pictures changed faster and faster. Behind me, someone was shouting – Ines, I guessed. I waved that thought away. Not now. The murky greenish depths beckoned. With my heart pounding, I pressed my hand to the mirror – and walked easily through it.

Against my better judgment, I found myself on the street, right on the pebbled pavement. The water was everywhere, the canal was overflowing and the sea waves kept coming. They were rushing over the wharves, leaving the stakes sticking out. There was a sharp smell of salt in the air, and the constant chatter of gulls made my ears ache. One of the birds sat down on the rocks beside me. A small head with empty eye sockets, a cage of fragile ribs, pathetic wing bones... a dead gull. Startled, I stumbled, plunging headlong into the water. Panic swept over me, the way it does when you're swept away by a wave and you don't know where to go to get to the surface. The viscous darkness stifled, restrained any movement. Suddenly a light hit my eyes, and someone`s icy hand slapped my cheek.

When I woke up, I found myself sitting in the middle of the room. My hair was wet, and so was my dress. Donna Assunta was leaning over me with a jug in her hand. Scarpa was grinning maliciously from behind her. The door to the room was open. Ines was standing at a distance, terrified, her hand pressed to her lips.

"Bring more water," Assunta demanded, handing Scarpa the jug. He muttered something but dared not to disobey.

"No need, thank you," I managed to say as the jester disappeared. Thanks to a cold shower my whole all nausea and faintness has gone at once.

"God, I was so scared." Ines exclaimed, her face pale. "There... in the mirror…”

She looked at me as if she expected my fangs and claws to come out.

“I just felt dizzy for a moment… because of the heat," I lied.

"But you looked different there… in the mirror… and then Scarpa came and pushed you aside. Then somebody started banging on the door and… I was so confused I didn't know what to do!"

"At least the fool tumbled to come and tell me," my aunt snorted. “What are you two doing here? Why did you go where you shouldn't? Now, get out of here before the master comes back!”

"But I did see…" Ines stammered.

"No, you didn`t,” my aunt said sharply. “And the less you both talk about it, the better."

That night Ines went to sleep to her mother`s room. She was still afraid of me despite Assunta's reassurance. Or maybe she was hoping that donna Joanna would be able to protect her from don Arsago`s wrath when he found out about that. I had no doubt the damned fool would be quick to tell his master.

By the way, how did Scarpa manage to get into the room? The door was locked, I remembered that. And we left the key in the lock. Was there really a secret passage there?

That night I was glad to stay alone. I needed to chase away all those terrifying visions from the mirror. As soon as I dozed off, my imagination took me back to the room with terrible eyeless faces grinning from every wall. It was impossible to sleep! I rubbed my face angrily and lit the candles. At the desk I took a sheet of paper and waited. There wasn`t a single sound outdoors. Even the wind was gone. Even the houses nearby were all sleeping in their night-black covers. A few stars of torches glowed. There were no cries, no paces of late passers-by, though any sound was carried far over the stagnant water, through the narrow pipes of the streets.

I picked up a stylus and drew a curved octagon − the Count's room with all the cabinets, their contents and everything else I could remember. Here was a cabinet with ancient manuscripts and incunabula... Perhaps the Count had not yet had the time to sort everything out, for the piles of scrolls were scattered on the shelves in complete disarray. I remembered that the frames of the mirrors were very ornate: crystal flowers, lush bronze curls and the like. It was so easy to hide a little lever among that stuff. A lever that opened the secret passage…

Trying to remember everything, I stared thoughtlessly at the wall where my shadow trembled. A faint light picked out the outlines of familiar objects from the darkness. My shadow suddenly moved. It's not really my shadow. The outlines are different, I thought coolly. The faintness came again and I could feel someone else's gaze. Someone was standing behind me right now, but after today's adventure in the Count`s room, I couldn`t be frightened so easily. With an effort, I broke the spell and spun around. As if a gust of wind swept through the room, and in the mirror, which I had forgotten to wrap with a cloth, I caught a glimpse of golden scale. I swore and carefully wrapped the shawl around the dangerous object, promising myself to take it out tomorrow. My hands were trembling. Then I snuffed off the candle and climbed into bed. Carefully drew the curtain so that there was not even a single crack. Plans and drawings could wait.

Tonight I wasn't ready to face my worst nightmares yet.