Dantessa

DANTESSA

The night was cool and breezy. The smell of smoke and dry leaves wafted through the air. Ambrosia marveled at the tickling sensation as the wind stirred an errant hair across her nose. It made her nose itch and she worried she would sneeze. Her senses piqued, she felt alive, nervous, giddy with anticipation. Finally after years of watching her brother Ricco and his friends go out for the Masked Festival, she was finally joining them. Now for the first time since her tenth naming day she was out without any mask at all. Her hand tracked up to her cheek.

“...Are you even listening? This is serious business, and I can’t have you lost in daydream. Ambrosia, Ambrosia…”

Hearing her name snapped Ambrosia out of her reverie, “Sorry Ricco, I won’t mess up, you can count on me.”

She nervously fingered the burlap bag tied to her belt checking the weight of it to make sure her treasure hadn’t fallen out. Ambrosia squinted past the edge of the dancing torchlight as their skiff slid silently through the shadowy canal. Soon they would reach the broken wall running just beneath the park. That was where it would begin.

“I wish you would tell me who’s mask you’ve got.” Ricco started again for about the fifth time since they’d left their house, “It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just that I’ve got a reputation to uphold, and let’s face it, you’re a disaster.”

“I promise Ricco, you’re going to be proud of me. Your friends will even think I’m brilliant when we’re finished. Where are the others?” Ambrosia’s voice was little more than a whisper.

“Don’t worry about the others. Everyone knows their part. Everyone will be in place, you just worry about your part, it took a lot of convincing, and the promise of more than a few pies for me to get them to let you do this. Just focus on doing your part.” Ricco sounded nervous, or maybe annoyed. Ambrosia could never tell where her older brother was concerned. “And fine, you don’t need to tell me whose mask you grabbed. It just better be good. Lorenzo nabbed the Gondola Captain’s last year. Can you top that?”

Ambrosia was glad for the darkness, she could feel her cheeks flush with excitement and knew Ricco would never let her live it down. She had no control over her emotions, she had gotten lazy living under her mask. “Don’t worry Ricco. You can count on me.” It was hard to keep her voice level and calm, with this giddy laughter brewing in her stomach. Swiping the mask had been the hard part, placing it would be easy in comparison, right?

Ricco dug his pole into the murky bottom of the canal stopping the little boat short, Ambrosia nearly toppled into him. He tamped out his torch. They were in place now, the small boat bobbing up and down in the water. To her right the broken wall providing the steps and handholds she’d need to climb up top.

Her stomach flip-flopped. No more time for childish fears. Her fingers shook as she once again ran them along the burlap sack at her belt. Would she be able to untie the knot, when it was time? What if the signal happened and she messed it all up because of the stupid knot and her shaking fingers? All of it, months and months of planning would be ruined, just like everything else she tried to do. Nope, not this time, Ambrosia told herself, fighting to stay positive.

Ambrosia scurried up the wall and crouched in the shadow of an old tree. She could see all of the people milling around in the square. The night was alive with the sounds of song and laughter. The breeze off the canals brought a marshy smell. It had been so long since Ambrosia had gone without her mask that she had forgotten how strong that smell could be.

Nervous energy mounting, her fingers continued to worry at the sack cinched onto her belt. Finally she felt the fabric go slack. The relief was short lived though, no sooner had the knot come loose than a tongue of fire leapt from the waterfront.

“Now, now, now, now!” shouted Ricco.

Like a rabbit she hopped and scurried out from the brush towards the well-cultivated garden full of the statues of the heroes and saints. Her feet slid on the broken sea shells that decorated the ornamental walkway leading up to the statue of Pugliesi, the baker who had held off the nightmares during the great war . She kept her balance and kept running as fast as she could, fingers curled tightly around the burlap sack lest she lose it in the excitement.

More fireworks erupted from the waterfront. This time a chorus of oohs and ahhs followed. Ambrosia wanted to turn her eyes towards the sky, but she knew this fireshow was meant to distract the crowds, not her . Ricco’s friends had come through, and now she needed to do her part.

Pugliesi’s statue stood right in front of her, his broad back and bald head gleaming in the moonlight, rolling pin raised towards the shining moon. Quickly she scaled him and perched herself on his enormous belly. Reaching into the sack she drew forth the most magnificent mask she had ever seen. She had dreamed of this moment since she’d first seen it, that she Ambrosia, the little sister who never did anything right, would be the one to pull of the greatest masking in the entire history of Dantessa. She quickly adjusted the feathers and angled the mask so the gems adorning it would catch the moonlight just so. She wanted everyone to see what she had pulled off.

Ambrosia scampered down the colossal statue and found Ricco standing at the edge of the garden, a look of horror on his face as he stared at the gleaming mask now adorning the enormous bald head of the Founder.

As his friends worked their way out of the crowd towards them, she heard some snickers, but where she had expected congratulations and adulation, she heard only sighs and whispers. Finally, needing to break the tension, Ambrosia squeaked, “See Ricco, I told you you could count on me.”

“Oh, Ambrosia,” Ricco muttered, “You really outdid yourself this time. Dad is going to be furious.”