Read Online A Bolt From the Blue by Diane A. S. Stuckart - Free Book Online

of us, for Il Moro wishes a demonstration of the flying machine as quickly as possible.”
    “Shall we return to the shed to start modifying the wings?” my father asked, grabbing up his own bag of tools.
    Leonardo shook his head. “The duke has arranged for a secluded spot here on the castle grounds where we may finish proving my design away from spies and other curious eyes. It has the advantage of being open to the sky, while being a pleasant place in which to spend a day at labor. We shall give the model that young Dino carries a full battery of tests today and then decide if we are ready to apply what we’ve learned to the full-sized model.”
    My father and I followed the Master out the workshop door, the flying machine balanced carefully in my arms. Even swaddled in cloth, the scale craft was as light as Leonardo’s tiny mounted hawk. I carried it with the same care I might have used to handle that small creature, arms stiffly extended before me as if in a gesture of offering. Given the secrecy of our work, I was relieved that the three of us drew no unwarranted attention as we marched across the quadrangle in the direction of the duke’s familial quarters.
    As it turned out, our destination lay not far from the Master’s workshop. Halting before its wooden gate, I realized in some dismay that this place was all too familiar to me. It was secluded, as Leonardo had said, surrounded by rough stone walls twice as high as me and accessible only by that single gate. He unlocked the narrow entry and, ushering us in, carefully fastened it shut behind us.
    Leonardo would have been familiar with the place, too; thus, it was with some surprise that I saw his expression was untroubled as he strode along the informal stone path that wended its way through the soft, clipped grass. I made my way most reluctantly, unable to forget what had happened the last time I set foot here in this spot. Indeed, how could I not remember the garden where, soon after my arrival at the castle, I twice had looked upon the frightening countenance of Death?
    My first encounter had taken place while the rest of the court was being entertained by a living chess match that Leonardo had arranged at the duke’s command. I had been on an errand for the Master, bidden to search out Il Moro’s cousin, who was inconveniently absent from the festivities on the playing field. I had all but stumbled across that missing man’s body sprawled on the lawn not far from where I now stood, a bloody knife protruding from his back.
    Though the greater misfortune obviously had been the conte’s, that had not stopped me from cursing my own bad luck in finding him . . . That was, until later. Unsettling as the discovery had been, in the long run it had proved oddly fortuitous for me. Had someone else of the court discovered the dead man, I would never have become the Master’s confidante while we investigated together in an attempt to expose a brutal killer and prevent another murder.
    Still, I suppressed a small shiver at the memory. In trying to stop that assassination, I had almost become a victim myself. One dark night soon after, I had confronted another knife-wielding assailant in this same garden in hopes of preserving an old man’s life.
    Foiled in one attempt, that would-be killer had decided I should instead be the one to join the luckless conte in death. I had escaped that most dire fate because of the Master’s timely intervention. With such a history, I told myself, the garden should surely seem to me a place of dread and horror.
    Instead, the place wrapped me in an embrace of unexpected tranquillity. The breath I had been holding as I followed after the Master slipped from me in a relieved sigh. Truly, there was nothing frightening at all about the garden, I told myself as I gazed about.
    Above me and clinging to the rough stone walls were the same twisted olive trees in whose limbs Tommaso and I had hidden that memorable night, watching for the