It was known simply as “the Tower” and it was at least a thousand years older than the rest of the buildings that formed the Della Porta estate. It was, some said, the reason why Giambattista Della Porta’s father had originally chosen the Capodimonte hill on which to build the family mansion. Other gossip disagreed, claiming that the elder Della Porta had striven mightily to remove the Tower from his land, but had died through his failure to do so. “A heart attack,” murmured some. “A curse,” whispered others.
Whatever the truth, the Tower persists today as it has for a thousand years, dark and foreboding, thought Chrymos as she and the others drew near the Tower’s spell-protected entrance, accessible only from the top floor of the Della Porta mansion. This was as close as she or her classmates had ever come to the Tower—not for lack of desire, but because the Tower’s protective enchantments turned away unwelcome attention. Anyone who merely gazed upon the Tower would be stricken with dread and with an urgent wish to be somewhere else, anywhere else. To enter the Tower without permission was, they were taught, simply impossible—even lingering near the entrance was all but intolerable. Chrymos could feel a powerful urging in her mind. “Leave this place, leave this instant!” She managed to keep her feelings in check, both because she knew she was authorized to be there and because she was so desperate to enter the Tower and take the next step towards her ultimate goal.
Chrymos looked around, judging how her classmates were reacting to the intense mental pressure. Ruben, closest to the Tower entrance, looked distinctly uncomfortable. He clutched the papers entrusted to him by Father Carracci, which explained his proximity to the entranceway, but he shifted his balance from one foot to another, clearly disturbed by the Tower’s enchantments. He looked up, saw Chrymos watching him and managed a brief wince of a greeting. Chrymos gave a pale smile in return.
Next, she sought out Adric, found him striding energetically around the antechamber whilst trying not to venture too close to the Tower entrance. He was transparently too bold for the circumstances and was likely trying to distract himself from the unpleasantness through action. Is it working? I can’t tell—but he’s certainly going out of his way to avoid eye contact, so I suspect he really wants to run and hide as well, she thought.
Out of the corner of her eye, Chrymos spotted Niccolo, Bartholomeo and Salvator. The three were as far from the Tower entrance as it was possible to stand and still be described as “waiting nearby.” A quiet “Boo” will send them running helter-skelter out of here, she thought, almost but not quite inclined to trigger such a reaction. If I’m going to be locked up with them for the next three weeks, it’s probably best not to antagonize them any more than my presence here already does.
There was a sudden clattering by the Tower entrance. The iron portcullis that physically barred entrance to the Tower was slowly raised and Doctor Odaldi emerged, having unlocked the oversized padlock that had secured the gate beyond.
He beckoned to the class. “Come, come, let’s get started. Line up over here.”
Odaldi waited impatiently while the six students reluctantly assembled close to the entranceway. The teacher then turned and began to head into the Tower itself. The students might have followed but the enchantment was too strong—they could not move any closer.
After a few moments, Odaldi re-emerged. He frowned at the six students but then realized his mistake. “How foolish of me. You haven’t been given the porta venenum, have you?”
The students looked uncomprehending. Odaldi explained. “The entrance serum—it allows you into the Tower. Have you received it?”
The students shook their heads. Odaldi scurried away inside the Tower while the students tried desperately, but ultimately without success, to pretend that they were happy to stand so close to the Tower despite its strenuous efforts to chase them away.
Odaldi came back a few minutes later, clutching a vial of slightly-steaming liquid and a couple of goblets. He carefully poured a half-dozen drops into each goblet and handed the goblets to Adric and Ruben, the two students who were standing closest to him.
“This serum will admit you to the Tower. Its effect should last for the next two months, more than enough time for you to be cloistered—no, wait, we won’t be able to do that with your class, will we?”
Adric and Chrymos exchanged glances. Another disruption caused by the Treaty? We really will be on our own.
Adric and Ruben emptied their goblets, held them out for Odaldi to refill. Adric then handed his refilled goblet to Chrymos, who took a deep breath and swallowed her share of the serum. It tasted as foul as anything she had forced herself to drink when she lived on the streets.
A few moments’ pause—and then the mental oppression from the Tower vanished completely. Chrymos could think clearly for the first time since entering the antechamber. She held out the goblet for Odaldi to pour a few more drops then passed the goblet to Salvator. Niccolo, who had received his goblet from Ruben, ministered likewise to Bartholomeo.
Suitably fortified, the six students were finally able to enter the lobby of the Tower, hot on the heels of Doctor Odaldi, who was clearly in a great hurry. He waited impatiently until all were inside the lobby and then tugged firmly on the portcullis, dragging it down into place and then securing it with a chain and a giant padlock. I hardly think that’s necessary, given the enchantments, thought Chrymos. She took the opportunity to examine her new surroundings, which the protective spells had previously made impossible. Several flaming torches that did the best they could to illuminate the gloomy lobby.
Everywhere she looked, Chrymos saw darkness, an unrelieved blackness that was soul-absorbing even without the aid of mystical enchantments. The stone blocks that formed the Tower walls were of pure black obsidian rock, carved out whole, and then polished so smoothly that each block might have been a precious royal jewel. As her eyes adjusted to the gloom, Chrymos could see a stone staircase three feet wide, that spiraled both upwards and downwards around a central core perhaps thirty feet in diameter. At the lobby level the central core was empty but, as Chrymos and the others were soon to discover, other levels bristled with dangerous and forbidden treasures.
THIRTY-SIX
A Few Minutes Later
The Tower, Academy of Secrets, Naples, Kingdom of Naples, Morning, Thursday April 8 1610
Doctor Odaldi led the way up the stone steps, round and round the center core. Finally they reached their immediate destination, two levels up from the Tower lobby. “Come in, come in,” said Odaldi, beaming with pleasure. “Now you can finally visit my laboratory.” He ushered them into the room and waited for their reactions. He was not disappointed.
“Split my windpipe!” exclaimed Adric, in his surprise slipping into street slang. The object of his amazement was a room in which examples of the alchemists’ trade covered every surface, claimed every wall, and even adorned the roof.
Unlike the gleaming black stone in the lobby, this room displayed the cumulative decay of a great many years of regular use. The walls are encrusted with the after-effects of endless experiments—fragments of who knows what—perhaps the remains of victims who had reacted badly to past potions, thought Chrymos. There were also scatterings of skin, bones, shells and other residue from creatures sacrificed in the Academy’s name.
Chrymos’ nose confirmed that this laboratory was also home to a great many unpleasant smells—pungent chemicals battled for supremacy against animal odors, stale sweat and the occasional fragrances from exotic plants, flowers and spices. Thankfully, fresh air came inside from somewhere and Chrymos found a spot where she could breathe more easily.
What was particularly curious was that the room was well-lit—yet there were no torches burning nor were there any windows. Chrymos turned to Odaldi. “Doctor, where is the light coming from?”
Odaldi smiled sheepishly. “Ah, yes, we had a little accident last month. One of the mixtures we were experimenting with proved a little too explosive and blew a large hole in the Tower w
all over there.” He pointed to a spot that looked exactly the same as all the other parts of the wall.
“The light you are seeing is simply sunshine from outside,” Odaldi continued. “I should get the hole fixed, but I have to say I am enjoying the natural lighting. With all the alchemic elements in here, it can be very dangerous to light any candles or torches.”
“So that part of the wall over there—” began Chrymos.
“—is an illusion that Apollinaris was kind enough to cast for me,” Odaldi put his hand through the ‘wall’ to show that there was nothing there. “We could have just left the hole as it was—the Tower’s enchantments keep everyone away, even the crows that might otherwise blunder inside—but the Contessa does love to see everything neat and tidy.”
“I suppose we’ll need to get the hole fixed before next winter,” Odaldi said as he turned away, “a cold wind coming through the gap isn’t much fun—but for now I’m really enjoying the sunshine.” Not to mention the fresh air, added Chrymos to herself.
He clapped his hands together. “Now come along, take a look around before we get down to business.”
Chrymos joined the others and surveyed her surroundings. Ancient wooden shelves stretched around the circular room that was Odaldi’s laboratory. And as for those shelves—they housed mysteries such as Chrymos had never encountered before.
Human and animal skulls were a commonplace, dotted here and there. A few skulls appeared recently deceased, still bright and gleaming, but most were dull with age and wear. Most of the shelves were dominated by row upon row of glass jars, occupied by—anything and everything. That jar contains a reddish powder that glows by itself, she noted, while its neighbor contains scorpion bodies—
She jumped back in surprise when the creatures in the jar she was examining began moving of their own accord, scuttling around inside the jar and attempting to attack each other. One of the scorpions displayed cannibalistic tendencies as it killed and began to eat its companion. Chrymos shivered and moved on.
“Hey, C, did you see this snake?” That was Adric, mischievously drawing her attention to yet another large container, this one containing a silver-scaled coiled creature, hissing softly to itself. As Chrymos watched, the snake raised its head up high, nearly to the lid of the jar, and spread its neck-flap, exposing a deadly black mouth whilst its forked tongue flicked ominously. The swaying snake mesmerized Chrymos. She found herself unable to take her eyes away, which surely was the creature’s intention because it suddenly spat at her. The venom sprayed harmlessly against the glass wall of the jar, but still Chrymos jumped.
“Ah, you like my little pet? I call it Cleopatra, in honor of the queen who made such good use of her own snakes,” said Doctor Odaldi, who had silently made his approach. He smiled down at the snake. “This Cleopatra is a creation of my own, a cross-breed between a spitting cobra, whose venom is harmful but not usually deadly, and a speedy African serpent whose bite will kill in less than 48 hours. This little darling need not touch you to kill you—its poison will do its deadly worst from as much as a vara away.” He stroked the jar. “We keep Cleopatra safely in the jar during the day but allow it free reign to protect my laboratory at nights.”
Chrymos backed away from the snake, but Odaldi didn’t seem to notice. He had turned his attention elsewhere, responding to a question from Ruben who, along with the other students, was now crowding around Odaldi. “Why would you need snakes to protect the laboratory, Doctor?” asked Ruben. “Surely there are enough safeguards, with the enchantments and the locks?”
“We take precautions that may seem excessive, Ruben, because we face enemies with supernatural powers of their own. And there are a great many dangerous secrets in this laboratory that must not fall into the wrong hands. This metal strip, for example—” Odaldi indicated a piece of metal in a tightly-sealed container. “—would burst into flames if we were to take it out of this jar.”
“And these two liquids,” said Odaldi, indicating two glass vials, one red and one black, “must always be kept far apart. Their combined effect is most corrosive—they can melt through solid iron in a heartbeat.” Adric’s interest was piqued by this announcement, Chrymos could see, and he was probably hoping for a demonstration.
Odaldi moved on and was now pointing out an oversized pair of metal gauntlets displayed on a pedestal. “According to Norse legend, these are called the Járngreipr, ‘iron grippers’. Supposedly, the Norse god Thor needed the gauntlets to hold his mighty hammer Mjolnir. Our friends at New Phoenicia acquired them—I’m sure there’s quite a story there, but I’m afraid I don’t know it—and, for now anyway, they’ve loaned the iron gauntlets to our little collection.” The assembled students made appropriate noises of appreciation.
Chrymos had never seen Doctor Odaldi so animated. Clearly, he delighted in showing off the wonders of the Tower. This is his true passion, she realized in that moment. The Academy lectures are merely a distraction. No, worse—they’re a real annoyance, because they take him away from his experiments and treasures in this room.
Doctor Odaldi moved on to another section of the laboratory. “This,” he said, lifting the veil from a pedestal on which an ornate green stone tablet was displayed, “is the most prized resource in my collection. It was thought destroyed in the third century by the plundering forces of the Roman emperor Diocletian, and yet here it is—the Tabula Smaragdina, the fabled Emerald Tablet of the great Egyptian adept king Hermes Trismegistus, who knew far more about alchemy three and a half thousand years ago than we have yet to rediscover in this modern age.”
The doctor looked longingly at the intricate carvings on the tablet. “So far, we have only been able to translate about a quarter of these instructions.”
The tablet was carved with intricate, mysterious shapes, reminiscent of Egyptian hieroglyphics and yet distinctive in their own manner.
“What language is this, Doctor?” asked Ruben.
“The sections that we can read are Phoenician,” replied Odaldi. “As for the rest, we’re not sure. We cannot read it all yet—and perhaps never will.” He looked understandably upset as he replaced the veil over the tablet.
Chrymos, worried that the doctor would launch into even more endless demonstrations of his collected treasures, seized the moment. “Doctor, the Exousía potion—our powers—”
“Oh, right, right.” Odaldi was instantly all business. “Now who has the paperwork?”
Ruben, still clutching the papers from Father Carracci, came forward and handed them over to the doctor.
“Thank you, Ruben. I must make sure that everything is in order. Master Della Porta is such a stickler for detail.” Odaldi placed the papers on a nearby desk as he moved over to a small cabinet on the left hand side of his laboratory. The cabinet was locked, a problem that Odaldi remedied with the assistance of a key that hung on a chain around his neck. Chrymos took careful note of what he was doing. If I’m going to steal enough potion to keep my powers indefinitely, I need to figure out how to break into that cabinet.
Odaldi reached into the cabinet, removed a goblet and two glass vials and carefully measured out a dose from each vial, pouring each into the goblet.
“Two parts blue, one part yellow,” Odaldi muttered to himself. “Mustn’t mix that up.” Chrymos carefully committed the formula to memory as well.
When the two liquids combined in the goblet, they snarled and hissed at each other, stirring up a froth that fought its way to the very rim of the goblet. “Quickly,” Odaldi said to the students, “the Exousía potion does not contain itself for long. Now who’s first?”
He looked down at the papers. “Adric, your authorization is right here. Drink this first dose, hurry now.”
Adric, to his credit, merely gulped once before stepping up and drinking down the potion. “That,” he said, coughing a little, “was truly horrible. As bad as choking down a cawdle when I’m sick.”
Doctor Odaldi was the first to offer congratulations. “Well done,
Adric, welcome. You’re now officially a member of the Alchemae. Do you feel any different yet? Any powers bursting to come out?”
“How would I know?” said Adric.
Odaldi shrugged. “It’s hard to describe, because the process is different for each person. Some say it’s like an itch that they need to scratch. Others, well, there are changes inside their heads. When your tutor, Father Carracci, first received his powers, he didn’t even realize that he had changed. It was only when others saw him—or, rather, didn’t see him—that he finally understood that he had acquired the power of invisibility.”
Chrymos’ jaw dropped. “You mean it? Father Carracci can walk around and not be seen?”
“Oh yes.” Odaldi managed a wry smile. “You can’t imagine how useful the power of invisibility can be for a school teacher—or perhaps you can, if you’ve ever been on the receiving end of a punishment for a misdemeanor that you thought Father Carracci couldn’t possibly know about.
“There are two important points that you should all note. Firstly, there are always physical limits to your powers. The more energy that your power requires, the shorter the duration for which that power can be used. Even your tutor cannot remain invisible for more than an hour at a time, or he will collapse from exhaustion.”
Odaldi turned back to Adric. “Anything?”
“No, I don’t feel any different yet. How long should I expect to wait?”
Another shrug from Odaldi. “That depends. The longest I’ve seen anybody wait was six months—but during that period the poor fellow had grown an entire new brain inside his body, which was supposed to double his intellectual capacity but in reality meant that conflicting impulses constantly kept him paralyzed. We had to put him out of his misery, once we realized what was happening. Pity—it could have been a most interesting experiment.”
Odaldi managed a vaguely sympathetic smile and then reviewed the papers on his desk. “Bartholomeo, it’s your turn.”
Academy of Secrets: From the Outcast Angels Christian Fantasy & Science Fiction series Page 12