by K. C. Dyer
Darrell bit her lip. Oh-oh.
“Air — plane. A plane — a smooth, angled plane flying through the air.” He looked up, a quizzical expression on his handsome face. “I think you may have given me an idea, bambina,” he said softly. Without another word, he dropped into a chair by the table. Pulling over a piece of parchment, he dipped his pen into an open inkwell and began to write from right to left at an astonishing rate.
He lifted his head briefly and met Darrell’s eyes with his own. “Leave me. I must finish these notes right away before I ready myself for the journey.” He flapped his arm at Darrell as though she were an annoying insect.
“But sir — the duke?”
Leonardo shook his head impatiently. “The duke may have my soul tomorrow,” he said, dipping his pen and giving Darrell a ferocious grin, “but today, my thoughts and my time are my own. Be gone!”
His head dropped back to his work, and Darrell crept out of the room.
CHAPTER TEN
It was not until she reached the back garden that Darrell realized she still clutched Leonardo’s notebook.
“Look at this, Delaney,” she said, dropping to sit on a garden bench. Opening the book, she was thrilled to see that while most of it was taken up with sketches, short passages of his recognizable handwriting were scattered throughout. Flipping the pages, she realized that she could read the Italian words, but only painstakingly, as the whole thing was in mirror script. It was going to take a long time to copy down all these notes. It was almost noon, and she was tired and sore and ready to go home.
Forget writing this out. She felt warm in the reflected sun and that made her sleepy again. “He’ll never miss it — he has dozens. I’m going to take it with me,” she whispered to the dog as they got to their feet. “Come on, Delaney. Let’s go home.”
The route back to Verrocchio’s house was easily retraced, and Darrell limped up to the small stable a short time later. It was lunchtime, and her empty stomach rumbled. The doors to the house were closed, though the window shutters had been thrown open to let in the warmth of the fall day. She lifted the beam barring the stable door, every bone and muscle in her body aching with weariness. Delaney led the way into the darkened stable, and Darrell could hear the pony shift in his stall and blow softly.
Leaving the door ajar for the light, she followed Delaney inside. Darrell tucked the notebook into her pocket and closed her fingers around the few mints remaining from her journey of the day before. She realized the ache she felt in her stomach might have something to do with the fact she hadn’t eaten anything since her meal at the wedding party, which now seemed like an eternity ago. She popped in a mint and then, stepping carefully, held out her hand to let the pony nuzzle another. “Thanks for letting me use your stable,” she said, as he crunched up the candy and blew gently in her hand for more.
Delaney trotted up the steps, neatly hopping the broken riser and spun in a circle at the edge of the tiny loft. “You sure don’t look very tired,” Darrell whispered as she started up the stairs, holding the edge of the beam above for balance. She paused and gazed thoughtfully at the broken stair before stepping over it, her eyes on Delaney. As she swung her foot onto the floor of the loft, Delaney pushed his head under her hand and they were swept into the torrent.
The thin sun of an early winter afternoon beamed in through the glass of the lantern room as Darrell awoke. Her head hurt a little, but the mint she had tucked in her cheek before the whirlwind drew her in worked its usual magic on her nausea. There was no sign of Delaney, and she sat up suddenly, remembering the prize in her pocket. She grabbed the windowsill and hauled herself up slowly, every muscle sore. But what about the small notebook? After a moment’s search she found it, nestled in the back pocket of her jeans.
Darrell pulled it out of her pocket and turned it over gingerly. It looked so old! The cover was cracked and brittle, and the pages inside seemed as thin as onion skin. Still, each page was covered with words and pictures in spidery ink gone sepia with age. She felt a twinge of guilt at stealing the book that Giovanni had gone to such great pains to rescue. Still — she pushed the guilt resolutely aside. Fragile or not, she knew this notebook contained Leonardo’s secret project, and perhaps it also held the answers she had sought for so long. Darrell slipped the notebook back into her pocket for safekeeping and hurried to make her way down the stairs.
In the distance, she heard the sound of an engine starting up, and she peeked out the door of the lighthouse with caution. A worker was driving his small Caterpillar towards the lighthouse again, the last roll of fencing in the bucket. Behind him a number of other workers straggled down the cliff path, carrying various pieces of smaller equipment.
Darrell decided to make her way around the back of the lighthouse and behind the rocks to the protection of the cliffs. She could hear Delaney whine but didn’t want to call him until she was safely away from the lighthouse and out of sight of the workers. She slipped out the door and around the far side of the lighthouse and caught a glimpse of the dog’s head.
“What are you doing there, Delaney?” she whispered.
“Good question,” said Conrad Kennedy, stepping out from behind the rock.
Conrad let go of Delaney’s collar, and the dog came bounding over to Darrell as though shot from a gun. He shivered a little and nuzzled Darrell’s hand.
“Did you hurt my dog?” she snarled.
“You call that a dog?” Conrad curled his lip. “Anyway, I didn’t hurt him. I just held him by the collar for a minute.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “I saw somebody up in the lighthouse, and when I saw the stupid dog running around I knew it had to be you.”
Darrell clambered down the rocks. Now she’d been caught, there was no use hiding from the construction workers, and they might prove some protection from Conrad. “Just stay away from me,” she said through her teeth. “And leave my dog alone.”
“Hey!” The worker driving the Cat jumped out and walked over to Darrell and Conrad. “Were you just in the lighthouse?”
“No —” Darrell began, but Conrad shouted over her voice.
“She was too.” He grabbed her roughly by the arm. “I was just watching you guys work and I saw someone walking around upstairs in the lighthouse. I went to check it out and she and her stupid dog were inside.”
“There’s no need for that,” said the worker, and brushed Conrad’s hand off Darrell’s arm. He turned to Darrell, his tone serious. “If you were inside the lighthouse, then you were trespassing. Where do you live?”
“In Vancouver,” Darrell answered. “But I go to Eagle Glen School.” She turned her back on Conrad. “I was just taking my dog for a walk,” she said to the worker. “I saw all the construction stuff, but I didn’t see any ‘No Trespassing’ signs.”
“Ha! What about the ‘Private Property’ sign on the lighthouse?” Conrad sneered. “Missed that while you were climbing under the chain, I guess?”
“There’s no call for that, either.” The worker frowned at Conrad. “I think you both need to come with me.” They walked along the sand in silence for a few moments until the worker hailed one of the men with equipment.
“Frank! Can you take these kids up to the school? They shouldn’t be anywhere near here while all this work is going on.” The other worker nodded and walked over.
Darrell looked up and her mouth dropped open. “Uncle Frank!”
“In trouble again, eh?” Frank grinned with the smile that was so much like her own and gave her a hug. He turned to the workman who had brought them from the lighthouse. “I’ll take ’em up, Joe. Thanks.”
The other worker shrugged and returned to his job.
Frank put out his hand. “Frank Del’Amico. I’m Darrell’s uncle, as you might have guessed.”
Conrad looked at the hand, scowling. “Yeah, well, your niece is in big trouble. She was hanging around the lighthouse, and that’s trespassing.”
“Oh yeah?” Frank withdrew his hand and
raised his eyebrows at Darrell. He looked back at Conrad. “And what were you doing down there — picking flowers?”
Conrad stuck his hands in his pockets. “I was just out for a walk, minding my own business. I saw somebody messing around in the lighthouse, so I went to check it out. It’s not me in trouble, it’s her.”
“Well, buddy,” said Frank, slapping Conrad a little too firmly on the back. “You did a good job. The criminal’s been caught and you can head off on your — walk.” He grinned and winked at Darrell as Conrad stalked off. “Just make sure you stay off this end of the beach!” he called and turned to his niece. “Nice friends you’ve got at this school.”
Darrell hugged her uncle again. “He’s no friend of mine. What are you doing here? Are you working on this job?”
“Yeah, my construction company got the bid to build the new light standard.” He slung his arm over her shoulder as they walked toward the path. “I was happy to come down here and have a chance to say hello. So I get here, and what do I find? My favourite niece getting herself into trouble.” He grinned and tilted his helmet back on his head. His hair was the same shade of brown as Darrell’s, though curlier.
“I’m your only niece,” she muttered. “But what do you mean construction of the light? I thought they were knocking it down?”
“Oh, they’re demolishing the old thing all right,” Frank said, puffing a little as he hiked the winding path in his heavy boots. “They’re going to replace it with a light on a tower — kind of like a light standard, but a lot higher. Doesn’t need as much maintenance. Just gotta change the bulb once in a while.” He paused and leaned heavily on a branch of the old arbutus in the garden while he wiped the perspiration off his brow. “They’ll take the old one down as soon as the new one is up and running.”
“That makes sense, I guess,” said Darrell, and yawned hugely.
“Well, honey, I have to get back to work now. You look like you could use a nap, anyway. What’s the matter? Your mom drop you off here at the crack of dawn or something?”
Darrell nodded and remembered the secret in her back pocket. “Yeah, we were here pretty early,” she agreed. “Maybe I’ll go have a little rest.”
“Great idea. I’m staying in some little hotel up the highway while I’m on this site, so maybe I can take you out for dinner one night this week.”
“Oh — yeah.” I don’t have time! Everything in her rebelled at the thought, but she managed a smile. “I’d — uh — like that a lot.”
“Geez, you must be tired, kid. Don’t think I’ve ever heard you less enthusiastic about an invitation to eat.”
Darrell swallowed another yawn and squeezed her uncle’s hand. “G’night, Uncle Frank — I mean, goodbye.”
He shook his head and waved. “See you soon, kiddo.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next morning, Darrell pulled herself up in her bed and slowly donned her prosthesis, looking carefully at it for what seemed the first time. The top was custom fitted to support her knee and was the latest in lightweight comfort. The foot had a dynamic response and could be adjusted so that she could walk or run with comparative ease. Darrell ran her fingers over the material and thought of the heavy grain of the carved wooden leg she’d worn in Florence.
She reached into the drawer by her bed, pulled out Leonardo’s notebook, and slipped it into her backpack. Her leg and the notebook. Something new and something old. And nothing that she understood.
The first bell rang out and she hurried to the door, neatly avoiding conversation with the red-headed spectre that was rising out of Kate’s bed.
Darrell turned the slim volume over in her hands. The pages smelled old and strange. After seeing Uncle Frank, she had dropped into her bed and slept until Lily arrived and shook her awake that afternoon. Kate had come in soon after, and the three of them had gone down to meet Brodie and Paris in the dining hall. Darrell had felt muddle-headed and still tired from her long, strange day. She said little, ate her dinner, and returned to her room. The crush of students in the halls between classes had meant she couldn’t find a moment of private time, and Kate and Lily’s discussion of the upcoming Renaissance fair went on late into the night. She decided to skip the twenty-minute tutorial period after breakfast to sneak up to a quiet carrel in the library.
Darrell had slipped the notebook into a plastic bag for protection, and now, at her desk in the library, she unwrapped it carefully. She set it gently on the table beside a larger book pulled from the library shelves. Inside the front cover, the first page was blank, except for a name written backwards:
The pages beneath her fingers reminded Darrell a little of her own notebooks: filled with jottings, scrawls, and a multitude of sketches in various stages of completion. The strange mirror writing ran throughout the book. When Darrell slipped her pocket mirror out of her pack, her fears were confirmed. At Eagle Glen, at least, her ability to read Italian script was limited to Leonardo’s name on the front page. This won’t be a problem. There are tons of translation services on the Internet. I may not get all of it, but I’ll be able to find out the general ideas.
With shaking fingers she flipped the pages and looked at the final sketch. It was a complicated machine with many gears, levers, and what appeared to be a sort of helicopter wing on the top.
“This has to be it,” she muttered aloud. “Now I just need to find out how it works.”
She dragged her attention to the larger library book and pored through the index, determined to find what she was looking for. Absorbed in the words from the library book, she clutched Leonardo’s notebook tightly in her lap and hardly noticed her hands were trembling.
Night fell earlier as the term wore on, and it was particularly black outside the study room windows as Darrell sat at a table, absorbed in her research. She had ignored Kate’s puzzled frown when Darrell had declined to sit together and pulled her chair into a quiet corner away from the other students. Delaney lay curled on the floor to one side and twitched in his sleep. He was dreaming:
waves crashing wind blowing fur
free free free free free
run fast splash paws move run run
small speck small shape small blur far far far
good girl good girl run
wet wet splash sand toes gritty good gritty
Watching the dog sleep, Darrell saw his eyes darting under their lids and smiled as his feet twitched and pedalled. Chasing rabbits. She turned back to her work.
But Delaney was not chasing rabbits.
bright hot sand sun run wind run run
scent girl light girl good girl good
dark light grey silver
snuffle leg warm hands gentle girl good
***YELP*** pain pain bite scratch rend hurt hurt
snap bite no no no not girl not girl
snap snarl pain no no bite snap pain
not girl
blood smell pain rocks bite stick bite pain
boy boy hurt pain boy bad pain rocks sticks
sore back teeth sore pain blood stick smell boy
teeth hurt snap whimper...
“Delaney!” Darrell rubbed her hand along the dog’s back and his agitated pedalling slowed.
no pain girl girl blood gone
girl there girl pat pat pat no pain
gone bad gone boy gone long gone
girl here good dog girl good dog del aaa nee
“It’s only a dream, boy.”
He didn’t have bad dreams very often, but this one must have been a nightmare, as for a moment he had whimpered and cowered under the touch of her hand. Now he looked up, tail thumping, paw on her foot.
“Hey, keep your dog quiet! We’re trying to get some work done over here.”
Darrell looked up to see Conrad glaring at her from his table near the door. He was sitting with Paris, and they had a few books open on their table. Darrell could see illustrations of medieval and renaissance instruments.
Paris spoke up. “He’s
okay, Conrad. It’s not bothering anyone.”
“Well it’s bugging me, so keep him quiet or I’ll throw him outside.”
Darrell scowled back at Conrad and refused to answer. She reached down and tousled Delaney’s furry head before turning back to her work. The dog curled up in a ball once again, this time pushed up tightly against her foot. For another moment, one eye stayed open and he gave a final brief thump with his tail on the floor. Darrell lifted her pen, and his eye slowly closed as he slept soundly once more against the safety of her body.
“Find anything?”
Darrell jumped. “You startled me!”
“Sorry.” Kate sat down at the table and reached to pat Delaney as he slept. “So what have you got so far?”
“Uh...” Darrell felt her face go red and she closed her book. “Not much actually.”
“Darrell! This is a group project!” Kate’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I mean, you’re doing Renaissance clothing. How hard can that be? Just write a list of all the clothes you can remember with a short description so the kids in the design class have something to go on when they start sewing the costumes.”
Darrell nodded. “Yeah — yeah. I’ll work on it as soon as I can.”
“I’ve got a great idea for a game already,” said Kate. “I found a site on the Internet that shows how bobbing for apples was common in the Renaissance, so I’m going to set it up as one of the stations.” Kate looked at Darrell’s notebook, closed on the table. “What are you working on, if it’s not the clothing?”
“It’s nothing. I’m — I’m just finishing my math.” Darrell bit her lip to stop from snapping.
“Darrell, we had time in class to finish that. Come and sit over at our table. This is supposed to be a group project, remember?”
“No!” Darrell’s temper exploded and suddenly the room was quiet as all heads turned to look at her. “I’ve got to get this stuff done, okay? I promised you I’d finish the group project stuff later and I will, but not right now!”