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"The lion's wing," Bo whispered.
"Precisely." Ida Spavento nodded. "It lay unnoticed in the courtyard until one of the sisters discovered it. No one really believed her when she claimed it was a piece of the original merry-go-round. So she kept it, and after her death it ended up in the loft of the orphanage. And that's where I found it many, many years later."
"What were you doing up there?" Mosca asked.
Ida extinguished her cigarette. "I used to play up there by the dovecotes," she said. "They're very old. They date back to when people still used pigeons to send their letters. That used to be quite popular in Venice. Whenever rich Venetians moved to the mainland during the summer, they'd use pigeons to send their messages into town. I used to play a game where I imagined that someone was keeping me prisoner up there and that I would send my pigeons for help. And that's how, one day, I found the wing, in the middle of all the pigeon droppings. One of the sisters who knew the old story guessed where it had come from and told me about the merry-go-round. When she realized how much I loved the story, she gave the wing to me."
"You played in the orphanage?" Scipio eyed her suspiciously. "What were you doing there?"
Ida stroked her hair back. "I lived there," she answered. "I was there for more than ten years. They weren't exactly my happiest ten years, but I still visit some of the sisters from time to time."
Hornet looked at Ida as if she were seeing her face for the first time, suddenly recognizing another lonely child. Then she reached into her jacket and produced the photograph the Conte had left for them. She pushed it toward Ida. "Behind the wing there -- don't you think that looks like the head of a unicorn?"
Ida Spavento bent over the photograph. "Where did you get this?" she asked. "From your client?"
Scipio walked over to the kitchen window. It was still dark outside. "The merry-go-round can turn you into an adult?" he asked.
"Yes, after a few turns on it. It's strange story, don't you think?" Ida placed her cup in the sink. "But your client could probably tell you more about it than I can. I think he must know where the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters is now. Why else would he have asked you to steal my wing? It probably doesn't work without the lion's second wing."
"He's quite old," said Prosper. "He can't have much time left to get the merry-go-round to work its magic."
"You know, Signora..." Mosca ran his finger over the wing. The wood felt quite rough. "If this wing really belongs to the lion, then you don't really have much use for it. So you might as well give it to us, right?"
Ida Spavento smiled. "I might, might I?" She opened the door to the garden to let in some cold night air. She stood there for quite a while, her back to the children. Then she suddenly turned around. "How about a little deal?" she asked. "I let you have the wing so you can take it to the Conte and he can pay you for it, and in return ..."
Riccio muttered, "Here comes the catch!"
"In return," Ida Spavento continued, "we will follow the Conte when he disappears with the wing. Perhaps we can find the merry-go-round of the Merciful Sisters. I'm saying we, because I will be coming with you. That's the deal." She looked eagerly at her visitors. "So, what do you say? I won't ask for any share in your reward. I already make more money than I can spend with my photographs. I'd just love to see the merry-go-round once. Go on, please say yes!"
The children didn't look very enthusiastic.
"I'm not sure...the Conte's pretty odd," Mosca murmured. "What if he catches us? I think he could get pretty nasty."
"But doesn't this photo make you curious?" Ida closed the door again and went back to her chair. "Don't you want to see it? It's supposed to be very beautiful."
Mosca still wasn't convinced. "The lion in St. Mark's Square is beautiful too. Why don't you just look at that?"
Scipio stood up. He could hardly ignore the others' hostile glares, but he tried his best. "I think we should take her offer," he said. "It's very fair. We get our money, and even if the Conte realizes we're following him, we can always outrun him."
"I keep hearing we," Mosca growled. "We are finished, you lying toad. You don't belong with us anymore. You never belonged with us, even when you pretended you did."
"Yeah, you just go back to that fancy house you live in!" Riccio sneered. "Us real orphans don't want to play with the Thief Lord anymore."
Scipio stood still and bit his lip. Hornet looked miserably at the table, and Bo pushed his head under Prosper's arm as if he wanted to hide.
"Could someone explain to me what's going on here?" Ida Spavento asked. When nobody answered she went to the sink and washed her espresso pot.
Suddenly Scipio said, "I'm not going back." He sounded choked up. "I will never ever go back home. That's it. I don't need them. If that merry-go-round really exists, then I'll be on it faster than the Conte, and I'll only get off when I'm at least a good head taller than him and with a beard on my chin. If you don't want to take the deal, then I'll do it alone. I'm going to find that merry-go-round so nobody can treat me like a stupid pet animal ever again."
After Scipio's outburst the kitchen fell so silent they could all hear the mewing of cats outside in the garden.
"I also think we should accept Signora Spavento's offer," Hornet said into the silence. "We should make peace until we've handed the wing to the Conte and received the money. We all have enough on our minds without making one another's lives more difficult." She looked at Prosper and Bo. "Now, anyone against the agreement?"
Nobody moved.
"Then that's decided," said Hornet. "Signora Spavento, you've got yourself a deal."
28 Scipio, the Liar
Another gray morning was already dawning when the children left Ida Spavento's house. Scipio joined the others, not saying a word, although it wasn't as if Riccio and Mosca even tried to talk to him on the way back to the hideout. From time to time Riccio gave Scipio such a threatening look that Prosper decided to walk between the two of them. They had left the wing with Ida Spavento. She wanted to bring it with her when they met the Conte.
Bo was so sleepy that Prosper had to carry him on his back half the way home. Of course as soon as they reached the movie theater, he was wide-awake again, so they let him capture the Conte's messenger pigeon.
Happily, he stood underneath the basket and filled one hand with seeds. Then he held it up in the air, just like Victor had shown him in St. Mark's Square. The pigeon jerked its head around and peered down at the boy, and finally flew onto his hand. Bo giggled and hunched up his shoulders as the bird walked down his arm. Then, while the pigeon pecked eagerly at the seeds in his hand, Bo carefully carried it to the emergency exit.
"Take her to the canal before you let her go, Bo!" Mosca whispered, holding the door open for him.
It was now light and very cold. When Bo stepped outside, the pigeon ruffled up its feathers and blinked, bewildered in the light. She kept her wings folded as long as Bo was still in the narrow alley. As soon as they reached the canal and the wind uncurled her wings, she pushed herself off from Bo's hand and took to the air. She rose high into the morning sky and flew faster and faster until she disappeared behind the chimneys.
