9 Caravaggio's Folly

9 Caravaggio's Folly The path they followed led from the cleaning station's door and skirted the outer limits of the Green Valleys. It was very narrow and very overgrown. In fact, the group had to pause every few metres so that 67 could cut back the dense, tangled knots of oil-painted bramble that blocked their way. At least the brier provided some cover to help keep the group hidden. ' Peanut, these actually taste nice,' said Rockwell, munching on one of the sandwiches that Peanut had sketched for them back at the station. 'You're getting better at drawing snacks.' 'Agreed,' said Little-Bit. 'My jam sandwich

almost tastes like it should. There is a slight tang of pilchard, but it's not bad at all. 'So, who is this Caravan bloke anyway?' asked Rockwell. 'Caravaggio,' said Peanut. 'He was an Italian painter in the Renaissance period, famous for his use of light. His work is really amazing, actually. Very dramatic.' 'A bit like you, Rocky,' said Little-Bit. 'Funny,' deadpanned Rockwell. Also, what's a folly?' 'I can tell you that,' replied Little-Bit. 'It's basically a small building that doesn't really have a purpose. It just looks nice. People would build them to show off about how rich they were. All a bit boastful and pointless, really.'

'That's all true,' said Dad, who was leading the way just ahead of them. 'But the folly we're heading towards will serve a very definite purpose. For us, at least.' An hour later, they arrived at a junction in the path, took the right fork and found themselves walking up a steep hill. The group was pleased to see that the greenery surrounding them, although still wild, was set back a little. Half an hour later, the morning sunbeams finally managed to pierce the canopy and paint fragmented, golden patterns on the path. 'There it is,' said Dad, pointing to his left after a few more minutes of climbing. 'I must admit, it's rather lovely.'

Right in the centre of a picturesque meadow was a small but extraordinarily beautiful building sitting at the top of the rise, overlooking the valleys. It featured an elegant round tower, about five metres tall, with a domed roof.

Surrounding the tower was a circular balcony held up by a series of grand columns. 'Ionic,' said Little-Bit. ' Yeah. I— er— was about to say that,' said Rockwell. 'Hand-painted by Caravaggio himself during his stay in Chroma. Late sixteenth century, I believe,' added Dad. ' Such form. Such symmetry.' 'Oh look!' said Leo. 'There's some sort of bird perched on the roof. It looks a bit like a peacock. And there are two more flying above us. 'KALEIDOSCOPPI!' shouted Peanut, Little-Bit and Rockwell in unison. 'Kaleido-what now?' said Leo. 'Shh!' said Dad. ' Remember, we don't want to draw attention to ourselves.' He looked at the gold-crested creature sitting proudly atop the folly, and the red- and green-crested creatures that circled overhead. 'They are rather beautiful though.' The kaleidoscoppi were a near-extinct breed of bird native to Chroma whose song was believed to inspire