"Twenty-five florins, and that's final," said the bird seller, crossing his arms and setting his chin at an angle that said he meant it. "And mind you, you have to take all of them. No returns." This wasn't one of the regular bird sellers; Leonardo knew them all on sight, and they knew him in return. (They also all thought he was a little mad, but since he was an excellent repeat customer, they knew better than to complain.)

Wondering why the man was so firm about him taking all the birds, Leo undid his belt pouch, shaking his coins out into his other hand. "Twenty florins-twenty-two. Eight quadrini-ah, there it is. Twenty five florins."

The money changed hands, and the seller nodded towards his cart. "All yours, Maestro," he said, cheerfully, and laughed. "I'm off to get me a drink. A large one."

Reaching for the cage on the very top of the stack, Leonardo glanced at the receding back of the bird seller, concerned for a moment as to whether their transaction had been quite legal, but then he shrugged. In a moment, all the evidence would be gone, anyway. He undid the twist of wire that held the finch cage shut and opened the door. Chirping, the little birds fluttered out and up into the sky.

Whenever he was low-spirited, Leonardo liked to set something free, even if it was only something as small as a finch. Next were three cages of doves. He emptied one and was reaching for the next when a familiar voice said, "In those parts of Asia where they follow the teachings of the Buddha, setting something free is considered a meritorious spiritual act, so the bird sellers set up in front of the temples and shrines. After a while, the birds get so tame that they fly back to their cages, knowing they'll be fed."

He turned. "Ginevra! I'm so glad you're here, because I've been studying cells from a lot of different sources under the microscope—I've made some great improvements to it—and I've noticed that some cells are doing something peculiar. I want you to have a look." he said, for it was she who had spoken. Then he spotted her companions. " And Ezio! There's no one I would rather meet here today," he said, happily. He had many acquaintances, but few true friends.

"Just the man we've been looking for," Ezio remarked.

"Oh, did you stop by the workshop? I'm sorry, I was running a few errands. This young lady must be your sister, Ezio. Am I right?"

"Yes, this is Claudia." Ezio said, putting his hand on the girl's shoulder. Oh, dear. Claudia was blushing and staring at him, her mouth open and her expression suggesting a gasping fish. This could be quite awkward. As handsome and talented as he was, Leonardo was used to garnering admiration from both sexes, but while he liked some women very much as friends—Paola, the madam of La Rosa Colta, for one, and of course Ginevra—when it came to bedsport, well, it was his sin and his shame that he preferred men. He did not understand why, but he believed he had been born that way.

The last thing he wanted was for Ezio's baby sister to form a passion for him. How ironic, if the wrong Auditore fell in love with him….

She gulped hard and pasted a tremulous smile on her face. "So pleased to finally meet you, Ser Leonardo," she said. "But-why are you doing that?"

"Birds should be free," he said, simply, and opened up the dove cage.

"I'm sorry to say, amico, that your meritorious spiritual act has left a souvenir on your sleeve," Ezio remarked, pointing. Yes, a bird had muted there, leaving a small grey and white blob.

"A small price to pay," he said, and freed the next cage of doves. "I got your letter, Ginevra. Since you said you would be here very soon, I didn't answer it. May I offer you every hope for your future happiness?"

The news that she was betrothed to Ezio's uncle had come as quite a surprise, yet more astonishing still was her smile, shy and—as young as she appeared to be. "Thank you. I'm sure nearly everyone thinks at the beginning that a marriage will prosper, but I think I have as good a chance as any at happiness."

"I was very glad to hear from you that Donna Maria is doing better. I wrote to her—I don't suppose she'll have received it yet—." The bottom cage was covered with a cloth, and proved unexpectedly heavy. "Uhh— why is this one made of metal?" As he picked it up, it came apart into three pieces, and a wad of dirty grey washing flopped ungracefully on the ground.

Then it got up, moving like a very old man, spread its wings, hissed, and said, "Oh! Oh! That bad bird! That bad, bad, bird!", and hissed again. Its voice wasn't human, but hoarse and metallic, grating on the ears. Yet it was distinct and perfectly intelligible. The beak on it looked like a crab's claw, only black, and its tongue was black as well. There was a patch of bald, raw skin on its breast, and the patterns on its feathers made it look wrinkled. The only beautiful thing about it was its tail, which was crimson.

"What is that?" Leonardo asked, looking down at the ugly creature, which eyed him with an uncanny intelligence, bobbing its head up and down.

"An African Grey parrot," Ginevra replied. "Poor lad; he's been pulling his feathers out from boredom." Bending over, she placed her hand where the parrot could step up on to it.

"If that thing doesn't shut up, I'm going to wring its neck!" the bird said as she straightened up again.

"He speaks very well," she said, holding her hand, and the bird, out to Leonardo, "That means he's very intelligent. Possibly even the Leonardo of the avian kingdom. The Greys are among the smartest birds, up there with crows and ravens. They also have very long life spans, up to seventy years with care. Often that's a problem, because when their original owner dies, not only are they heartbroken, the heirs don't want them. That might be what happened to him."

"What are you giving it to me for? I don't want it!" Leo backed up.

"You bought him," she pointed out.

"I didn't know I was buying him—that bird seller! I knew he wasn't a regular. He must have set me up!" Leonardo looked around wildly. "Where did he go? I don't want it!"

"He's yours now," Ezio said, looking as if he was trying not to laugh and not succeeding very well.

"I bought the birds to set them free, not because I wanted a pet," Leonardo protested. "Shake him off and let him fly away, like the others."

Ginevra looked at the bird and then at him. "He can't. His wings are clipped." With her free hand, she encouraged the parrot to extend one wing, showing the truncated feathers. "Even if he could, Firenze isn't his natural environment. He'd die."

"But I don't want a—," Leonardo began again. "I don't even know what it eats!"

"Nuts and seeds, fruits and vegetables, some live snails now and then," she replied. "He'll also need to bathe regularly in clean warm water—he could use it now, in fact. You haven't been very well looked after, you? No toys to play with, no baths, and a cage you can't even stretch out in."

"Oh! That bad, bad bird!" it said again. "Bad parrot! Bad!"

"I don't suppose that you—." he tried.

"I would not only have to think about it, I would have to take into consideration the wishes of everyone who would be living in the same house with him for any length of time." Ginevra said, looking at the bird. "Especially since parrots repeat what they hear, and what he mostly seems to have heard are comments about his bad behavior."

"Wicked, wicked, wicked—tra-la-la!" the bird agreed.

"But what would I do with it?" he asked.

"Take good care of him until his breast feathers grow back, teach him some more edifying phrases, and then find someone who wants a chatty companion animal. When he's better socialized and looking handsome, he'll be a very valuable creature."

"I suppose so…" He reached out to the bird, which looked at his fingers as if it were going to bite him.

"Scratch him very gently, like this," Ginevra demonstrated, combing his neck feathers with her index finger, and the bird squeezed its eyes shut with pleasure.

Leonardo did so, and after a few moments of delicate scratching, the bird readily transferred from Ginevra's hand to his. "You can't go around Firenze with a parrot on your hand like a hunting bird," Ezio protested, laughing.

"It's traditional to wear one's parrot on one's shoulder," Ginevra said, with too much dignity to be serious, "but only if you're contemplating a career as a pirate. Still, it has to be better than this. Here—." She picked up the cloth which had covered the cage, folded it, and laid it over Leonardo's shoulder. "There. Your clothes will be protected if he decides to reward you like the other one did. Now bring your hand up to your shoulder. There he is." The parrot seemed to take to shoulder sitting, but it was a little disconcerting when it stuck its beak in his hair.

"What's it doing?" Leonardo asked, trying not to make any sudden moves.

"He's grooming you. That's a very good sign." Ginevra told him.

"Is it? How intelligent is intelligent? I mean, for a bird?"

"Something like a five year old child," she said.

"That isn't possible!" Claudia burst out. "How do you know so much about parrots, anyway?"

Whatever response Ginevra might have made was lost, as behind them, a girlish voice cried out, "Claudia? Claudia Auditore? Is that you?"

They all turned to see a girl about Claudia's age, attended by both a maidservant and a pageboy. She was wearing a singularly odd hat on her head, all gold ribbon bows and curls, and a fur tippet around her shoulders. She was also pregnant.

"Ariana!" Claudia said, not quite happily, "But you're Donna Ariana Bandini now, aren't you?"

"Oh, la, yes, these three years and more." She rested her hand on her midsection and rubbed it, calling attention to her status and condition. "But where have you been? After that—business with your family's disgrace, you just disappeared. I was at the home of Maddelena Corsini the other day, and you came up in the conversation, because Duccio's wife died in childbed, and we remembered you and he had been betrothed once, and no one knew what became of you."

"Monteriggioni," Claudia replied.

"You? What on earth were you doing in the middle of nowhere like that?"

"I wouldn't call it the middle of nowhere," Ginevra smiled pleasantly. "Small, yes, but strategically situated and thriving, but then I am betrothed to the lord of it, and Ezio here is the heir presumptive."

"Oh," said Ariana Bandini, staring at her. It was not really a fair fight, if fight it was, not when one combatant was all of nineteen and the other had the self-possession of nine centuries. Anyone who ever watched two cats sidling around one another, moving in slow motion while never breaking eye contact would have found their attitude toward each other very familiar. Ariana noted the obvious details—simple black dress, veil, no make up—did a quick mental comparison of the approximate worth of their jewelry, and thought she backed down because the stranger's pearls were worth the price of a small villa in the country. Looking as if she now felt foolish for wearing a hat which she had bought because she had been assured it was just like the one Isabella de Este had, and not because it looked good on her, she dropped her eyes. "I beg your pardon, madonna—." She looked toward Claudia for an introduction.

"Donna Ginevra Schaivoni," Claudia said dutifully, "my uncle Mario's betrothed wife. You remember my brother Ezio, and this is our friend Leonardo da Vinci."

"Oh, everyone knows who he is. You're the one who painted Ginevra de' Benci's portrait. What a coincidence, that you and she should both be named Ginevra." she turned to the other woman for a moment. "So! What brings you all to town?" She waved a fixed fan made of peacock feathers lazily, trying to regain some ground.

"Business," Ezio replied. "We three and my uncle called upon the Medici."

"Oh, poor you." said Ariana to Claudia and her somewhat disturbing aunt-to-be. "No doubt you were sent off with Clarice, who was too proud to say a word to you, with her superior ways." She laughed, and it sounded brittle.

"Is that what people say of her?" Donna Ginevra said. "I myself found her a very kind and gracious hostess, although I am sure she has a difficult time of it here. She has a gentle spirit, and if she is quiet I think it is because people look to strike sparks of wit off everything she says, as though she were a flint and they were steel. People without a sense of cruelty have a hard time of it in this world, do they not? Without a touch of it oneself, cruelty is very hard to defend oneself against. But that was only my impression of her, and I only met her for the first time today. I am sure you know her better than I do. "

"Oh, I –I must beg your pardon, I remember now I meant to meet my sister at the Santa Croce cloisters," donna Ariana said hastily, "so I take my leave of you now. But you must come and see me two days from now, Claudia. I'll send the word around for all of us who were girls together to come too. And your aunt will be very welcome, too."

"I look forward to furthering our acquaintance," Ginevra smiled as the girl walked away, waddling slightly because of her pregnancy.

"How did you do that?" Claudia spluttered.

"How did I do what?" Ginevra replied.

"Whatever it was you just did!"

"What? She was just a rather silly young woman trying to make herself out to be more than she is and belittle you while she did it. You may be annoying, but now you're my annoying niece, or nearly, and I do not like people who pick on others. Talk about birdbrains! Frankly, I think rather more of Leonardo's new friend's intelligence than I do of hers. Have you decided what you're going to call him, Leo?"