They returned to the factory, then Maynard had his own carriage take him back to the castle. He took a small meal alone, mulling over his difficulties completing the device for the aircraft, and retired to his tower sitting room. 

He gave up on solving the problem and instead appreciated the dusk over Clee and the lake. The sky was cloud-free, but the dusty air made the lake shimmer orange. Blackbirds, pigeons, and sparrows roosted, making their characteristic calls. The sun fell behind the thin line of mountains across the lake in the west.

The orange sky moved through a strange green colour to inky blue. Dark shapes of owls and nightjars glided quietly in from the Silver Forest back in the east. Maynard’s eyes drifted toward closed.

One bird, with wings broader than all the others, caught his attention. It spiralled down and swooped toward a particular tower—Grandfather’s! It circled it once, then with a single mighty down-thrust of its wings, lit gently onto the roof tiles.

Maynard blinked and searched again, but could not find it after it landed. It was dark, and far off, and maybe he was wrong; perhaps it hadn’t landed at all. 

Problems like this worried at Maynard; his logical, scientific mind latched onto them. What he saw with his own eyes was real; If he’d seen a bird land, then a bird had landed, and he hadn’t seen it fly away again. Had it hopped around to the back of the roof, behind the peak where Maynard couldn’t see? That would be difficult, with the tower roofs so steep and the tiles so slick and mossy, but birds are agile; that was the rational explanation.

He needed to talk to the graf anyway.

It was a five-minute walk to Grandfather’s rooms at the end of the wing and up into the tower.

‘Where’ve you been boy?’ Grandfather said, but he smiled warmly, somewhere under his moustaches.

Grandfather often greeted him like that, and Maynard had fallen into the habit of not taking it literally, which was convenient because he didn’t really want to answer. Grandfather was still dressed in his dirty old laboratory coat, and seemed barely to have cleaned his hands. He sat at his desk, peering at his designs through his thick glasses, and scratching notes and alterations in red pencil. 

‘I’m fine. How’s your invention going?’

The graf hadn’t told Maynard what his invention actually was, although Maynard had helped with ordering parts from the Delgarde machine shops. He knew it had to be some sort of robot body.

‘It’s going extremely well,’ he said, and quickly covered his drawings before Maynard could get a good look. ‘But no peeking-I want to keep this one a surprise for the unveiling.’

‘You know I won’t blab,’ Maynard said.

‘A surprise even for you, boy. Especially since you’ve given me no clue of yours.’ 

This was Maynard’s cue to change the subject.

‘I was watching your tower just now, and I’m sure I saw a large bird land on your roof. I’m worried it might have broken the tiles. Did you hear anything?’

‘Not a thing, nothing, but my deaf old ears...not what they once were.’

The graf’s ears were just fine. 

‘Do you mind if I take a quick look?’

‘Eh?’ The graf said, as if to reinforce his deafness, but it came across as a weak joke. He’d gone back to his designs.

Maynard unlatched and opened the glass doors and went out to the balcony. He leaned out from the railing, but couldn’t even see beyond the eaves to the roof. He listened for a moment, but didn’t hear anything either.

Feeling stupid, he went back in.

Grandfather looked up from his work. ‘You’re seeing things, boy. Riding in that stupid automobile has addled your brains. If there was anything there, it was probably just a pelican—big bird, plenty of them over the lake.’

Maynard nodded. That was true enough, there were many pelicans, and they were certainly about the right size, but they didn’t roost in the city, and Maynard knew what he’d seen. Given the graf’s nonchalant attitude, he decided to keep vigilant. 

And he’d not missed the real message—grandfather knew he’d been in the automobile, which meant he’d been spied on, which probably meant the driver or the guard had blabbed. Which was not too big a surprise.

What was more concerning was he and Otis may have been followed to the aerodrome, and the graf might know what was under the tarpaulins at the back of the Delgarde hanger.

There was another thing he’d been wondering about.

‘That new girl, Doncia. Is she really Professor Javer’s daughter?’

‘Yes. Nola wanted to let her work in the castle. After all—it’s not their fault what Javer did.’

‘What exactly did he do?’ Maynard had been quite young when Professor Javer had disappeared, and he had only vague memories of the man, and none of the circumstances of his dismissal.

Grandfather ignored him and returned to his drawings. Maynard just waited. Eventually he looked up.

‘Are you still here?’

‘Er, no,’ Maynard said, and left.