Ciro rushed into the room, dagger unsheathed, preparing himself for what might be causing his sister to cry out so. He stopped, confused, when he saw her standing alone at the window the wind blowing her hair and nightgown furiously around her. She turned and stared at him, her eyes fiery and vengeful. "He came back, that bastard actually came back." He knew instantly whom she spoke of, he had heard tales of the hooded murderer who haunted Italy's cities most recently his city of Venice. The man who had claimed their father's life.
"Did he do anything to you?" He questioned, walking over to her and laying the dagger on a nearby nightstand. She shook her head adamantly, insuring him that the man had not violated her.
"He came for father's ledger, the one I found lying next to him when I…when I discovered him."
"Do you know why he would want it?" Ciro asked in disbelief, she shook her head again. No one knew what their father had kept in that ledger of his, not even their mother had known when she was alive. He sighed, running his hand through his sandy hair and then over his tired chestnut eyes. He had just applied for a position on the Doge's personal guard and the training kept him up and active for most of the day and evening, so this interruption to his much needed sleep had not been welcomed. Valeria shivered violently, the cold wind suddenly starting to get to her. Ciro wrapped an arm around her and lead her to the door, "try and get some sleep, we'll sort this whole mess out in the morning." He said, kissing her forehead and sending her off to her room.
She closed the door slowly, watching her weary brother trod off to the comfort of his own bed for a second time tonight. She sighed heavily and finally let her fear creep into her thoughts. He could have killed her and she knew this fully, but he didn't so deep down he knew that he did not kill in cold blood. 'No,' she thought sourly, 'there had to be a reason for him to stab you to death, and that was good enough for him'. She sighed again, and pulled her hair back with one of the ribbons her mother had left for her when she died. They were made from imported Chinese silk and had been a wedding present from her father to her mother, Valeria kept them in the drawer of her nightstand and took them out whenever she needed comforting, she ran her thumb over the soft shiny fabric before putting it in her dark hair. It would be a long while before she fell asleep, but at least she had the memory of her mother to comfort her.
The next morning was horribly bright and cheerful. The sun was shining and more gondoliers seemed to be singing than usual as they rowed through the murky canal water, winking at girls as they stopped to listen and stare. Valeria was anything but bright and cheerful; her run in with the notorious Assassin last night had put her in a foul yet determined mood today. She had announced at breakfast that she was going to pay a visit to a family friend that had moved to Venice from Florence about a year and a half ago. She was ever hopeful that he could make sense of the recent happenings
She moved among the hustle of the morning crowd easily and gracefully, holding her skirts in one hand, a small package in the other. The bright colors of the merchant market usually intrigued her; she loved the smell of fresh baked bread, the laughter of old friends, and most of all the taste of fresh picked apples her usual morning treat. But she was not her normal easy going self this morning, not eager to laugh with the sellers, her features were hard and cold and she walked purposefully. She finally came upon an ornate wooden door, obviously carved by the owner, tucked just off of an ally set into a two story brick building which looked out of place in Venice. She pounded on the door knowing that the resident would most likely be distracted, but today it was only a few seconds before her opened the door and she saw his smiling face.
"Good morning Leonardo." Leonardo DaVinci was a man in his early thirties with light brown hair and what Valeria liked to think of as a friendly and mildly handsome face. He had sold some art through her father and established a relationship with the family a few years ago. He quickly became a dear friend to Valeria when they established that they both had similar views about people and life in general. She enjoyed simply spending time with him and having intelligent and philosophical conversations with him that she didn't get at home or even with her tutor, and it was through those conversations and times with him that got her through her father's death. He was an extremely inventive man with too many ideas to organize he was always tinkering with something or sketching out a new building or painting. He had often asked for her to let him paint her, but she always refused, not comfortable with having a man survey her so carefully and completely for hours on end. Though ten or so years her senior, she had often contemplated a deeper relationship with him knowing he would be more than willing to consent, but she shrugged the feelings off thinking them silly and childish, more a curiosity than real romantic love.
"Ah, good morning to you as well my dear. You are looking as beautiful as ever." He said with a smile. She couldn't help but let a small smile of her own slip through as he kissed her cheek in greeting. "Please, come in, come in." He ushered her in and offered her a chair.
"No, I would really rather stand," her tone serious. "I've actually come here to speak on a personal matter that I am hoping you can help me with."
"Of course, is everything alright? You seem more burdened than usual." He touched her elbow lightly, his eyes genuinely concerned.
She looked at the floor, concentrating on the pattern of the grain in the wood as she gathered her thoughts. "I was visited last night…" Leonardo waited patiently for her to finish, "by the man who killed my father. He came this time for the ledger that father kept as part of his business. He stole it from me, and then leapt out the window, I couldn't stop him." A small whimper escaped her lips as she held back tears. He put a hand on her shoulder and guided her to a chair which he gently pushed her into, he then handed her his glass of wine that he had been neglecting. She took a grateful drink and rested the cup in her hand on her lap, her thumb tracing the ornate design around it as she swallowed. She cleared her throat and continued trying to revert back to her emotionless state. "I came here wondering if you knew anything at all about what my father kept in that ledger, you were close with him in a business manner, maybe he shared something with you that he couldn't tell us, his family?"
He shook his head regretfully; tapping his fingers on the solid wood table they were seated next to, it was something he did when he was thinking. "No, I'm sorry to say that he never did such a thing. He always brought it with him when we met but he never opened it, just held it in his hands, like it was something precious."
She sighed and shook her head, taking another heavy drink of wine. "I just don't understand how this man could know about my father's ledger, and what is contained within it. How could something so small and seemingly unimportant get a man killed?" Leonardo shrugged.
"These are strange times we live in."
There was suddenly a loud knocking at the door, the voice attached to the knock called for Leonardo in an urgent tone. He stood to walk towards the door, then stopped and turned to face her again; he had a strange and uncomfortable look on his face. "You didn't happen to see the man's face did you?"
"No, only his lips and nose but I feel like I could remember them if I saw them again," she said adamantly. "Why do you ask?"
"Oh, no specific reason. I'm sorry but I really must take this, if you will excuse me for a moment." She nodded and watched as he opened the door carefully then stepped out to talk to the visitor in private. She frowned, wondering why he was acting so odd all of a sudden because of a knock on his door. She ran a hand over her face, trying to settle her mind and focus. Standing, she began to wander around his workshop. It was a hobby of hers to stop by unexpectedly and just look around as he worked, enjoying studying his scale models of future buildings or his medical sketches from the bodies the city donated to him. What she loved most was to watch him paint, it was when he was the most relaxed, and his normally quizzical face was serene. She reached the most recent main exhibit; a machine that he claimed could allow a man to fly. The frame was made of light flexible honey colored wood, the flesh ivory tinted fabric that looked like the cloth used for tents during Carnivale. She stood marveling at it when he walked back it, shutting the door gently behind him. He walked up next to her his arms folded over his chest and surveyed her face.
"Can it really fly Leonardo?" She asked wistfully.
He smiled, staring at his contraption proudly. "Maybe someday, if I can ever find a man insane enough to test it."