“I’ve asked Dawn about this,” she said as he approached, “but I want to check with you.”
“She spoke to you? Did you, Dawn?”
“We’re getting there.” But it was still Topaz speaking. “What I want to know is this. Dawn draws things she has seen, you told me that. Does she also sometimes draw things from her imagination—things that she couldn’t possibly have seen?”
“She could, if she wanted to.” Josh felt an irrational need to defend Dawn. “She’s not stupid.”
“I know she’s not.” Topaz bristled back at him. “But you are.” She calmed down almost at once, as Dawn laid a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Josh. But that’s not what I asked you. I didn’t say could she draw what she hasn’t seen. I want to know if Dawn ever does.”
“She draws—” But then Josh had to stop and think. Every one of Dawn’s drawings was something that he knew Dawn had looked at; or else, like the views of Burnt Willow Farm, it was something that he had every reason to believe she had seen. “I don’t think she invents. If she draws it, I think she has actually seen it. There may be little details she leaves out, but she doesn’t make things up.”
“Good. Now take a look at this.” Topaz held out the leaf with the drawings that Dawn had done. She pointed to two of the little sketches. “What would you say these are?”
Josh needed only one glance. “They’re spangles. But Topaz, Dawn has seen spangles.”
“I know. But look at these. Look closely.” Topaz lifted the leaf so that it was no more than a few inches from his face. “See them?”
She was pointing at a faint series of lines that crisscrossed Dawn’s drawing of the spangles.
“I see them. But I don’t know what they are.”
“Well, I do. Those are bars. That’s a cage, Josh. Can’t you see it? That’s a spangle, sure, but it’s a spangle sitting in a cage.”
“It can’t be. If there had been a spangle sitting in a cage where Dawn went, Sapphire might have been too zonked to see it—but Ruby would surely have noticed.”
“That’s what’s bugging me.” Topaz sat back on her heels in frustration. “Dawn draws what she sees, and she saw an invisible spangle in an invisible cage. Did you, Dawn?”
“No. “Josh’s inspiration came in an overwhelming sweep, so fast and complete that he could not guess what led to it. “She didn’t see a spangle in a cage. Did you, Dawn? You saw a drawing of a spangle in a cage. Each of these”—he pointed to the set of little drawings of leaves, neatly sketched on the big leaf—“every one of them is a drawing of a drawing. The original drawings were much bigger, one to a leaf. Right, Dawn?”
She was smiling benignly, nodding her head very slowly.
“But that can’t be right.” Topaz looked from one to the other. “You were there when Dawn found Ruby. You saw that animal, whatever it was, running away. You didn’t say it was carrying a big stack of leaves.”
“It wasn’t. It left a stack of leaves behind.” In frustration, Josh crumpled the edge of the leaf that he was holding. “Don’t you see, Topaz? When we found Ruby, she was sitting on them. We never gave the leaves another glance, and I bet Ruby didn’t, either—she was interested in the rupert, not in some bunch of drawings.”
“We can check easily enough.” Topaz stood up. “The leaves should still be there. We’ll go out tomorrow morning, and we can—unless—”
She paused and stared outside, to the rain that was falling harder than ever.
“Unless.” Josh finished her thought. “Unless the ruperts do their painting with something that washes off in water.”
Chapter Twelve
The storm continued for half the night. The animals outside were subdued by the elements, or perhaps they had gone far off to seek shelter. At any rate, they were quiet. Josh slept deeply, and awoke determined to do a more thorough exploration of the forest. Last night’s discussions had taken them nowhere. Ruby had hardly noticed the piled umbrella leaves, and he hadn’t been able to get a useful word out of Dawn. As for Sapphire, all she did was shake her head and look wretched.
He came outside to a drenched but sunlit world and learned that he was not the first one up. Topaz was in the kitchen with Dawn, drawing on a pad resting on the tabletop. Sig was by her side, watching. When he saw Josh he scowled and turned away, as though embarrassed by his own interest in what mere girls might be doing.
“Did you go already?” Josh came to Topaz’s side and stared down at the pad. It was the letters of the alphabet, upper- and lowercase.
“Go where?” Topaz carefully added another, the letter K. Dawn copied it, easily and accurately.
“Did you go and look for the pile of umbrella leaves that Ruby was sitting on?”
Topaz raised her dark eyebrows. “Give me a chance. It’s only been light for half an hour. We didn’t even eat yet. If you’re so keen, why don’t you go?”
“I think I will.”
Josh was irritated as he headed out of the kitchen. Topaz probably thought she could make Dawn less autistic, but based on the evidence it was working the other way round—Topaz was becoming as inscrutable and impenetrable as Dawn.
He had gone only a couple of paces when he halted. He was facing away from the rising sun, and something had flashed bright silver in the corner of his eye. He turned to stare. It was moving fast across the sky, a stubby little dart that left behind a thin plume of white.
It could not be Sol Brewster and the cargo aircar. The shape was wrong, and the path that the ship was taking would bring it nowhere near the camp.
“Sig! Topaz! Come see this.” He turned to make sure they were on the way.
They weren’t—they were still staring at Dawn and that stupid pad. “Did you hear me? Hurry!”
Already the speeding ship was halfway to the horizon and shrinking in apparent size every second. Sig had finally begun to move, but with no great haste. Topaz was behind him, staring down at the pad she was holding. Dawn did not move an inch.
“Look at this, Josh.” Topaz began to speak before she was fully outside. “I didn’t spell it out or anything. She just did it for herself!” She lifted the pad and turned it.
Josh glanced at the pad impatiently. The drawing was unmistakable—it was of Topaz, smiling and in half-profile. At the bottom, in the right-hand corner, the word “Dawn” was neatly printed.
“She can write her name!” Topaz wasn’t looking at Josh or where he was pointing; she was too busy grinning at the signed picture. “I bet if I keep working with her, she’ll be able to read and write anything.”
Normally Josh would have been as excited as Topaz, but the speeding ship was on the far horizon and the sun glint from its body was already lost.
“Never mind the picture.” He pointed. “Look over there.”
It was almost too late. Josh could see the dark dot of the ship, but that was because he knew exactly where to look. The plume of the exhaust was no more than a tiny white feather in the sky.
Sig and Topaz were squinting up into the bright morning glare, but he could tell from their puzzled expressions that they were missing it.
“Look at what?” Sig said. “I don’t see anything except clouds.”
“It was a ship. A space-rated vehicle, like the one that took us up from Earth. You can still see its exhaust.”
But it was obvious that they couldn’t. Sig turned from scanning the sky to stare skeptically at Josh.