The Water Mirror by Kai Meyer

sidewalks, some on stools and chairs they’d
     brought out of their houses, others on cushions or on the bare stone. In several places
     drinks were being sold, although Merle realized with a trace of malicious pleasure that
     Dario was sure to be disappointed: There was hardly any wine or beer, for this was a
     poor people’s festival. No one here could afford topay
     fantastic sums for grapes or barley, which had to be smuggled into the city by dangerous
     routes. After all these years, the Pharaoh’s siege ring was just as tight as at
     the beginning of the war. Even though the siege was imperceptible in daily life, still
     no one doubted that hardly a mouse, not to mention a smugglers’ boat, could sneak
     past the Egyptian army camps. One could certainly find wine—as Arcimboldo
     did—but it was usually difficult, even dangerous. The poor people drank water
     ordinarily, while at festivals they had to be content with juices and various
     home-distilled liquors of fruits and vegetables.
    Up on the bridge, Merle saw the weaver’s apprentice who’d been
     the first to lose his mask. There were two other boys with him. One’s face was
     very red, as if he were sunburned; clearly it hadn’t been easy for him to wash off
     the glue Merle had sprayed under his mask.
    Their leader, Serafin, was nowhere to be seen. Merle realized with
     surprise that she’d involuntarily been watching for him and was almost
     disappointed not to see him.
    Junipa, on the other hand, was a completely changed girl. She
     couldn’t get over her amazement. She kept whispering to Merle, “See him over
     there?” and “Oh, look at her!” and giggling and laughing, occasionally
     so loudly that some people turned around and looked at them in surprise and were
     especially interested at the sight of her dark glasses. Only the rich dandies usuallywore such things, and they rarely mixed with the common people. On
     the other hand, Junipa’s worn dress left no doubt about the fact that she had
     never seen the inside of a palazzo.
    The two girls stood at the left end of the bridge and sipped at their
     juice, which had been watered down too much. On the other side a fiddler was striking up
     a dance; soon a flute player joined in. The dresses of the young girls whirled like
     colored tops.
    â€œYou’re so quiet,” Junipa declared, not knowing where to
     look next. Merle had never seen her so animated. She was glad, for she’d been
     afraid all the hurly-burly might make Junipa anxious.
    â€œYou’re looking for that boy.” Junipa gave her a silvery
     look over the top of her glasses. “Serafin.”
    â€œWhere’d you get that idea?”
    â€œI was blind for thirteen years. I know people. When people know you
     don’t see, they get careless. They mix up blindness with deafness. You just have
     to listen and they tell you everything about themselves.”
    â€œAnd what have I betrayed about myself?” Merle asked,
     frowning.
    Junipa laughed. “I can see you now, and that’s enough.
     You’re looking in all directions all the time. And who could you be looking for
     except Serafin?”
    â€œYou’re just imagining that.”
    â€œNo, I’m not.”
    â€œYou are so.”
    Junipa’s laugh rang bright and clear. “I’m your friend,
     Merle. Girls talk about a thing like that.”
    Merle made a move as if to hit her, and Junipa giggled like a child.
     “Oh, leave me alone,” cried Merle, laughing.
    Junipa looked up. “There he is, over there.”
    â€œWhere?”
    â€œThere, on the other side.”
    Junipa was right. Serafin was sitting a little back from the edge of the
     pavement and letting his legs dangle over the canal. The soles of his shoes were
     dangerously close to the water.
    â€œNow, go on over to him,” Junipa said.
    â€œNot on your life.”
    â€œWhy ever