The Dragonfly in the Tower

6. The Fresco of the Tower

Back at home, Sharon showed Ilya the guest room.

“I’ll be going back to my room, but, I hope you have a good night!”

Ilya waved, cheerily. Sharon noticed that as soon as he had stepped foot into the east end, his mood had brightened considerably. He had looked around in awe at the library, eyes as big as dinner plates, and hummed and clinked glassware he picked up and peered at in the kitchen. Along the way she’d asked him questions, but all he knew was that he was 13 – a year younger than Sharon – and fervently denied being a mage, though Sharon could have sworn her kettle seemed to shut off by itself and servingware which hadn’t been there a moment before suspiciously materialized at dinnertime.

Was this his personality before he lost his memories? Or was he always like this?

Back in her bedroom, she rolled in her bed and gazed outside the window, to the rolling hills. Tonight, the flowers outside her window (rose of Sharon, she reminded herself) were already closed for the evening. She didn’t smell their sweet fragrance, just a faint green leaf aroma.

In Sharon’s head, she could still hear Rainer asking her about her life in the tower, asking her whether she knew the cost of freedom.

My freedom is worth everything. To step outside this tower, would be worth anything.

I don’t know what life is like outside the tower, but I have faith that I will find a way.

His words were so strange, almost making the curse of the tower sound like a blessing for her.

Rainer really doesn’t know me at all… Sharon thought sleepily.

Sharon dreamt of her dragonfly zipping and soaring past the woods, frolicking with the fireflies who flashed their cold green light… she dreamt she drank from the streams and slept under the stars… autumn came and the world revealed itself in oranges and browns, and she could not find Dracrys, green, green Dracrys… where was Dracrys…?

Did something happen to Dracrys?

Did Dracrys return to the tower… Must we part ways?

She woke up with an unfamiliar pain in her chest, and lightly kissed Dracrys on its head. It stirred sleepily.

Dracrys is from outside the tower , she reassured herself, and when she thought of the puzzles that still remained in the west end of the tower, her dream evaporated like morning dew.

When she got to the library, she stopped, gazing with a surprised and admiring look at the changes.

Paper lanterns festooned each corner, and the bookshelves now had fanciful cutouts next to them, illustrating each shelf. Little colorful knit socks decorated the chair feet, and she heard sounds of a marimba float by from the center.

“Ilya!” she said, finally finding the boy, who looked tired and happy.

“Where did you even find all these things?” she marveled.

Ilya pointed to a ladder. “I just used this to help myself get to the supply shelves.”

Sharon blinked. “The supply shelves?”

“Yup! There are some in each room, haven’t you noticed?”

Sharon didn’t think she was tall enough to notice. Ilya wasn’t that much higher than her, but the ladder seemed to have gained some extra rungs, so she guessed he had, yet again, performed some household magic.

Sharon shook her head. “I’m going back to the west end,” she informed Ilya.

Ilya frowned and pushed his marimba away.

“I don’t want to go back.”

Sharon frowned. “Then, stay.”

She turned to pull the cord to start the library’s descent, but Ilya cried, “Wait!” and got up. “I’ll come with you.”

I don’t want to be rude, but…

“Ilya, can you take care of yourself? I don’t want to spend my time…”

“Babysitting me?” His cheeks flushed. “I don’t need you to look after me.”

Right…

She pulled the cord and just on time, Dracrys came to join them, zipping from wall to wall like it was still a bit uncoordinated after a long sleep.

In the west end, Rainer wasn’t there, and Sharon couldn’t stop her knee-jerk reaction of disappointment. But she quickly forgot it as they stepped back into the study.

Bird heads, bird wings… Six silver knives… Birdcages, and the Vitruvian man… and the mounted dove…

An hour passed, then two, as all three of them scoured the study again and again and again for clues.

But they came up empty handed.

Finally, as Sharon was poring over the knives one last time, she looked at Ilya.

His lips were pursed and his cheeks bright, like a fever was starting.

“Ilya,” Sharon said, startled, “do you need a break?”

Ilya stood up. Sharon was glad he could at least do that – he looked so weak, all of a sudden…

“I’ll just go over to the main hall.”

Sharon looked sadly down at the knife in her hand.

We’re not getting anywhere. I’ll join him for a bit.

In the main hall, Ilya collapsed into a chaise, and Sharon took the end piece and sat, gazing out to the sea.

If I close my eyes I can almost imagine the salty breeze…

What would it be like to swim? Or to sail?

Ilya suddenly spoke. “That man creeps me out.”

Sharon became alert. “What man?”

“The one on the ceiling,” he pointed above.

Sharon gasped. Instinctively she wanted a place to hide from the man’s eyes, but couldn’t.

It was the Vitruvian man with wings, painted on the ceiling.

If Leonardo da Vinci had been commissioned to paint a fresco, he couldn’t do any better. The man was painted with precise detail and perfect proportions, and, just like the Sistine Chapel frescoes Sharon had seen from her books, the fresco was peeling and faded in parts, which made no sense because…

That wasn’t there before!

It must have appeared after we unlocked the study…

Sharon’s mind was racing.

What was the word that Rainer had used?

“I guess there’s no point in doing a glamor. You’ve already seen what this study really is…”

Ilya was still looking at it. “It’s like his eyes are following me everywhere.” Ilya tried swaying to his left, and to his right, keeping his eyes on the man’s.

His eyes… Is there something different about his eyes?

The hall was so gloriously high, every time they came here there was drafts from the window as the air continued to circulate downwards. Sharon couldn’t tell for sure but she thought his eyes looked like two black beads…

Or gems… or… buttons.

“Quick!” Sharon shouted, startling Ilya, as she ran towards the study.

“What are we doing?” cried Ilya.

“Pressing the man’s eyes,” Sharon said succinctly.

“Pressing who what now?” asked Ilya.

They arrived by the painting in the study, with the dove’s head, and Sharon winced as she gripped the dove head with both hands.

This dove feels very real, she thought, and with a moment of doubt, and the eyes really look… fleshy.

They were black, and they were beady, but they also look like jelly…

Sharon closed her eyes as she braced for impact, but her thumbs never made it to the dove’s eyes.

“Achoo!” Sharon sneezed and sent Dracrys spiraling.

Dracrys had landed on Sharon’s nose to ward her off poking the dove’s eyes at the last moment.

But I don’t understand… The eyes have to be the clue. The Vitruvian man fresco still has his eyes, but they’re fake, and the Vitruvian man here has dove eyes.

As Sharon puzzled, Dracrys headbutted the crystal pendant of the ceiling fan cord. The dragonfly, already jeweled, almost looked like a part of the tower, like an ornament of a wind chime.

Running back to the hall, with Ilya crying out questions behind her, Sharon followed the first cord for the ceiling fan and found what she guessed she would find.

“Two cords! Another cord appeared. The first cord is just to run the fans. But this second cord…” Sharon pulled the smaller second one.

Sharon and Dracrys ran back to the study.

The dove’s eyes were now two plastic hexagons.

“Will someone please explain to me what’s going on?”

“What’s going on is that you’re an idiot.”

Rainer had again appeared out of nowhere. Sharon was starting to get used to his dramatic appearances.

“Hey! That’s mean.”

“Do you want to explain or should I?” Rainer asked Sharon, who was about to press the dove’s eyes.

“You can go ahead,” Sharon said abstractedly as she pressed the eyes.

Thankfully, they were not gooey anymore. They were buttons as she had guessed, and the bookcase behind them slowly collapsed shelf by shelf into a dim passageway.

“The key to the study was in the hallway. In this case, the key was the Vitruvian man. He appeared twice, but in the first room, he appeared with a human head, and in the study, he appeared with a dove head. That’s the ‘key’ that whatever mechanism it takes to trigger the next room has to be associated with the head. Since his eyes are following you from the fresco, you can figure out that the ‘key’ is probably his eyes. But, you need to activate the ‘key’ by pulling the second ceiling fan, before you can press the eyes in the study.”

Ilya pondered. “Why would he make puzzles that anyone could figure out?”

“Well, first, not everyone can figure them out,” he said, throwing Sharon a quick glance under his lashes. “Second, he was an artist,” he said, as though that was reason enough.

“And?” Ilya pressed.

He shrugged. “And his art was in all that he did.”

Next Chapter: 7. The Enchantment of the Tower

Previous Chapter: 5. The Fresco of the Tower

Home