The following Saturday was their day of rest, and Vera and Peeku ventured out to the estate where Vera had heard the violin music. They approached the large black doors and tried the lion-shaped brass knocker, but nobody answered. They walked around the perimeter, past topiaries pruned into dragons and griffins and other mythical beasts, but they encountered not a soul. They circled the building a second time and heard nothing, not a single strain of music. That evening Vera played her violin and soared directly to the estate, hoping her night music would carry her further than her previous attempts, but the building seemed to possess magical properties which prevented her spirit form from penetrating its walls. They returned to the estate again and again, but alas, it seemed to be deserted.
Then one afternoon Vera was taking a break from icing cupcakes when she passed the baker and the butcher smoking their pipes in the alley beside the bakery. She overheard them talking about a masked ball to be held the following eve at the Black Estate. Vera thought: it must be the same place! With the money she had saved from work, she bought a green taffeta dress, a pair of fancy rain boots, and a rhinestone mask from the milliner down the street. For Peeku, she bought a pair of silver pants and a dinner jacket.
The next evening Vera and Peeku made their way to the ball. A long line of limousines was snaking along the driveway, and they watched as people in masks and fancy dress emerged from the cars and scurried up the steps to avoid the rain. They approached the entrance, which was flanked by two liverymen in black uniforms and black masks.
"Your invitation," one of them intoned.
Vera blushed behind her mask. How could she have been so foolish? Of course they would need an invitation to such a dignified event! She was about to turn away when Peeku said:
"Sadly our invitations were lost in the mail. With so much correspondence, such a thing is inevitable. But we are close friends of Samuel the baker."
The two liverymen exchanged a look before one nodded curtly and said:
"Of course. Samuel the baker. He is a favorite of the lady of the house." The liveryman stepped aside for Vera to enter. "Please, have a splendid time."
But when it was Peeku's turn to enter, the liveryman blocked his entrance.
"Be gone, imp. Only the girl is admitted."
Vera looked forlorn at Peeku, for she did not want to go to the party alone. But Peeku only flashed her an encouraging smile and said:
"Peeku will wait for you outside." And more quietly so that only she could hear it: "Be careful, little one."
A third liveryman ushered Vera through several sets of doors, each bigger than the last, until she finally emerged into a large ornate ballroom. The style was vaguely Japanese, with onyx walls and large tapestries of golden dragons hung throughout. Several large mirrors in gilded frames were spaced evenly around the room. Torches burned in nooks higher up, so that the firelight cast flickering shadows across the walls. In one corner several women in gold lamé dresses were playing harpsichords, and in the opposite corner a court jester was juggling a trio of piglets who oinked unhappily each time they were thrown into the air. Interspersed throughout the room were circular tables laden with goblets of sparkling drink and glass bowls of rare fruits: lychees and guavas and dragonfruits from the tropical isles.
The masked guests hovered around the room drinking and eating and talking quietly with one another in tight huddles. Vera desperately wished Peeku was with her. She stood in the corner surveying the guests, but even with their masks she knew none could be Cyrus. When everyone's attention was elsewhere, Vera slipped out of the ballroom and began to explore.
YOU ARE READING
The Lost Boy
FantasyA timeless fairytale about a boy who goes missing and a girl who travels to the farthest reaches of the world to find her dearest friend.