City of Flowers by Mary Hoffman Read Free Book Online

any money here and didn’t even know what currency they used. He shook his head. The small dark chapel, with its lingering scent of incense, was beginning to feel stuffy. He wanted to get out into the fresh air again. Suddenly he panicked. How long had he been roaming the city with Sandro? A gnawing feeling in his stomach told him it must be getting late. He didn’t want to miss the sunset.
    Sky looked at his wrist but of course his watch was on his bedside table at home. He looked up and saw Sandro regarding him with his head on one side. With his bright, alert eyes, he did look a bit like a sparrow.
    â€˜What time is it?’ Sky asked, feeling really alarmed. ‘I must be getting back to the friary.’
    â€˜Oh yeah, you brothers have to say your prayers every few hours, don’t you?’ said Sandro. ‘You’ve probably missed some already. Do you want me to take you back?’
    *
    Gaetano had spent several happy hours helping Sulien in his laboratory. The young di Chimici prince was attending the university in Giglia and was interested in all new branches of learning. But he hadn’t been in a laboratory for a long time and was fascinated to see how the friars distilled perfume from flowers. It would take many cartloads of irises to produce a tiny phial of the flower’s intense yet delicate perfume. And Sulien was easy to work with, calm and authoritative. Gaetano fell into the rhythm of the laboratory without even noticing.
    He looked at tall glass bottles containing cologne, with labels like frangipani, pomegranate, silver musk, vetiver and orange blossom. Then there were pure essences like amber and jasmine, lily-of-the-valley and violet. There was almond paste for the hands, Vinegar of the Seven Thieves for ladies’ fainting fits, Russian cologne for men’s beards and almond soap. There was tincture of white birch and hawkweed, infusions of fennel and mallow and lime blossom, liqueurs and compounds of willow and hawthorn.
    Cupboard after cupboard full of jars of lotions and glass bottles of jewel-like coloured liquids. No wonder the place smelt like heaven! But Gaetano knew that somewhere in the friary was another, secret, laboratory, where herbs were brewed that were not so healthy – his family’s source of poisons.
    But for now he tried to forget about that and to lend a hand stirring and measuring and mixing and adjusting flames under glass alembics like any other apprentice. Gaetano was the only one helping Sulien; the usual novice helpers had been dismissed so that the two of them could discuss the real reason for the prince’s visit.
    â€˜Luciano told me where to find you,’ he said, steadily pouring a clear green liquid from one container to another.
    â€˜And how is he?’ asked Sulien. He had brought his recipe manuscript into the laboratory and was carefully recording what they were doing to make infusion of mint. ‘I know Rodolfo is worried about his coming anywhere near your father the Duke.’
    Gaetano sighed, concentrating hard on his task. ‘My father has his reasons for not trusting Luciano too. Do you know what really happened to my brother Falco?’ he asked.
    Sulien nodded. ‘Doctor Dethridge told me,’ he said. ‘He was translated, like him, but to the other world.’
    â€˜Where he lives and thrives, as far as we know,’ said Gaetano. ‘I miss him terribly, but it was his decision. He wanted passionately to be healed by their medicine and be whole again.’
    The two of them were silent over their tasks for a while, Gaetano remembering the last time he had seen his youngest brother, miraculously grown tall and straight again, riding a flying horse in Remora. His father had sat beside him, white and rigid at what other spectators took for an apparition of the dead prince. Duke Niccolò, in his ceremonial armour, had vowed vengeance on the Stravaganti but he had not moved quickly. Gaetano