Rebel Genius

by Michael Dante DiMartino

  Zanobius held the guard’s gaze, watching his puffy pink lips flap, barely listening to the words coming out of his mouth. He was like most humans he’d encountered. Talked a lot, without really saying anything.

  Not like his master. When Ugalino spoke, it was purposeful and direct. He didn’t waste words on complaints or small talk. Zanobius preferred it that way.

  “You okay, pal?” the guard asked, peering under Zanobius’s hood. “You’re pale. You’re not going to pass out on me, are you?”

  “It’s a permanent condition,” Zanobius said.

  The guard took a step back, a nervous look on his face. “Not contagious, is it?”

  “Not as far as I know.”

  Zanobius, I need your assistance. Come in here. His master’s voice beckoned in his head.

  “Excuse me, my master is calling,” Zanobius said.

  The guard looked at his employer’s door, then cocked an eyebrow. “I didn’t hear anything.”

  Zanobius knew his ears were working fine. He just didn’t need them to hear Ugalino’s voice. He walked past the guard and pushed the door open.

  The guard grasped the handle of his rapier. “Hey, don’t go in there unless Rocco gives you the go-ahead.”

  Zanobius ignored the warning and marched into the room. Rocco rose to his feet and drew a small dagger, pointing it at Ugalino. “You told me our guards would stay out of this.” He called into the hall: “Bruno, get in here!”

  Bruno rushed in, drawing his rapier. Its blade caught the edge of the door frame, causing him to stumble. “You want me to escort them out?”

  Ugalino’s eyes stayed fixed on the art dealer. “All I require is a name,” he said calmly. “Provide it to me or I will destroy every last piece of art in here.”

  Rocco flung the dagger at Ugalino, while Bruno lunged at Zanobius, his sword stabbing through the air.

  Four arms shot out from under Zanobius’s cloak. His front two hands grabbed the blade, his back two wrapped around Bruno’s neck. Bruno fought for breath, eyes wide with terror.

  Ugalino dodged Rocco’s flying dagger and spun his staff in one fluid motion. The fist-sized diamond on top of his staff glowed. A circle of white light shot out and hit Rocco in the chest. The force sent him crashing through a stack of canvases against the wall.

  Ugalino towered over Rocco and shoved the point of his staff into his shoulder, pinning him down. Rocco winced.

  “Ready to give me your collector’s name now?” Ugalino dug his staff in deeper.

  Rocco let out a pained yelp. “Yes, yes, it was Duke Oberto! He has a castle north of here, in Paolini.”

  Ugalino glowered. “I’m familiar with the duke.” He drew back his staff. Rocco clutched his shoulder, sweating.

  Let the guard go, Ugalino’s voice commanded. Zanobius released his grip and Bruno dropped with a thud.

  “What … what are you?” Bruno asked, rubbing his neck.

  “He’s a Tulpa.” Rocco spat out the words like they tasted sour.

  “His name is Zanobius,” Ugalino proclaimed. “And he is the greatest work of art ever created.”

  * * *

  They climbed a flight of rickety stairs and emerged on the outskirts of a small walled city. The nearly full moon hung between two jagged mountain peaks. Stars dotted the sky. Zanobius located the brightest of them all—the Guiding Star. Relieved to be aboveground again, he focused on the point of light and inhaled deeply. The fog cleared from his mind.

  Ugalino whistled and an enormous, silver-feathered creature dove out of the sky. Zanobius jumped back before he remembered what this creature was—Ugalino’s Genius, his companion long before Zanobius. He racked his mind, trying to recall its name.

  “Ciro, to me,” Ugalino hailed.

  Of course. Ciro. He knew that.

  The Genius flapped its wings and landed, kicking up dust. When it lowered its head, Zanobius noticed his reflection in its black, lifeless eyes. Ugalino gripped the edge of Ciro’s tarnished crown and hoisted himself onto the creature’s neck.

  Zanobius climbed on after his master. “It happened again.”

  “Another blackout?”

  “They seem to be occurring more often.”

  Ugalino twisted to face him. “But you still remember who you are?”

  “Yes.”

  “And who I am?”

  “You’re my master. You created me.”

  “And what is our mission?”

  “To find the Creator’s Sacred Tools.”

  Ugalino nodded and turned away, apparently satisfied that Zanobius was all right. But he didn’t feel all right.

  “It’s strange,” Zanobius said. “I can remember all the important things that make me who I am, but the details of where we’ve been or who we’ve seen are completely gone.”

  “It’s an unfortunate downside of being a Tulpa,” Ugalino explained.

  “Can’t you fix it?”

  “I’ve tried. But it’s something you’re going to have to live with. I’m sorry.”

  Zanobius nodded. Had they talked about this before? He couldn’t recall.

  Ugalino tapped the Genius’s side with his staff. Ciro heaved his massive wings and they rose into the air, the ground rushing away. Tensing, Zanobius grasped a handful of feathers and held on tightly. Of all the memories erased by the blackout, why couldn’t he ever forget his fear of flying?

  3

  THE GENIUS

  Giacomo fought to stay conscious. With his remaining strength, he lifted his head and dragged himself across the ground, gathered his satchel and sketchbook, and crawled out of the piazza. Grasping the edge of a building, he pulled himself to his feet, but every step felt like another knife being plunged into his body. Doubled over, he leaned against a wall. His hands and tunic were red and wet. He shuddered. A coldness spread from beneath his ribs, up through his chest. Each breath was more punishing than the last.

  He had to make it back to his hideout. But then what? Bleed out in the sewers? Was that how his short, insignificant life was going to end? He could find a soldier. He’d take him to a doctor. But once he was fixed up, they’d send him back to the orphanage. Forget it, Giacomo thought. I’d rather die.

  In front of him, a small orb of bright white light floated down from the rooftops. It hung in the air, like the afterimage from staring at the sun. Great. Now I’m seeing things. He shut his eyes. Opened them again. The orb was still there. It swelled and pulsated, growing larger and larger.

  Giacomo’s legs wobbled, then gave way. The hard stone street shot up and slammed into the side of his face.

  With a groan, he rolled onto his back. The orb expanded around him, filling his vision until his entire universe was aglow.

  Streaks of red, blue, and green cut through the light, followed by a tremendous thudding that vibrated his skin.

  More colors shredded the orb, whirling into a storm of purples, greens, and yellows that whipped him with stinging strikes. Giacomo winced. He struggled to sit up, but a streak of violet slammed into him like a fierce gust of wind, knocking him flat again. The cobblestone street had vanished, replaced by roiling waves of every hue and shade.

  He squinted, trying to get his bearings, but there was nothing solid to fix his eyes on. With his arms, he shielded his face as the maelstrom pelted his body like a million tiny pinpricks.

  The thudding intensified, evolving into a thunderous pounding that reverberated in Giacomo’s head. Fearing his eardrums might burst, he covered his ears, but his hands barely muffled the sound.

  A horrid smell, a thousand times worse than sewer poop-sludge, invaded his nose. His stomach heaved and the few scraps of bread he’d eaten threatened to come back up.

  Senses overloaded, Giacomo could barely form a thought. He rolled onto his side, tucking into a tight ball. The relentless pounding shook him, inside and out.

  Just end it. Stop the agony. Please.

  As if the Creator had heard his plea, the banging quieted, the whipping wind
s ceased, and the disgusting odors wafted away.

  Giacomo peeled open his eyes, never so happy to see the stars. They twinkled their assurance that everything was going to be all right.

  But something else floated above him too. A tiny hummingbird with orange and blue feathers cocked its head and stared at Giacomo. It darted from side to side, its wings fluttering so fast they practically disappeared.

  Startled, he pushed himself up on his elbows and shuffled back. The bird dove, its long, pointed beak aimed straight at his head.

  “Get away!” He swatted the bird and knocked it into a brick wall. It let out a high-pitched skreee. At the same moment, a hot pain shot through Giacomo’s shoulder.

  The bird zigzagged through the air as it tried to recover. Aou aou aou, it chirped angrily in a way that matched Giacomo’s “Ow, ow, ow.”

  “Sorry,” Giacomo said, “but you shouldn’t fly directly at people’s heads.”

  The bird stabilized and zipped up to his face, the tip of its beak barely an inch from his eyes. Giacomo flinched.

  “You don’t listen, do you?”

  Now that it was practically perched on his nose, Giacomo felt foolish for mistaking it for an ordinary bird. It had ears. Pointy ones that were pierced with round earrings. A tuft of feathery hair sprouted out of a tiny gold crown on its head. And in the center of the crown sat a red oval gemstone.

  “You’re a Genius,” Giacomo said in awe.

  The bird chirped happily and backflipped in the air.

  “But that’s impossible.” He rubbed his eyes and looked again. Yes, that’s a Genius, all right. He should know. He’d grown up around two of them.

  His parents’ Geniuses had been much bigger and looked more like doves, but they also wore crowns with colored gems, which was the source of their power. They had lived in his cramped house, like part of the family, always by his mother’s and father’s sides when they painted or sculpted. The last time he saw his parents’ Geniuses, soldiers were hauling them away in cages.

  What was this Genius doing here? As far as Giacomo knew, there weren’t any Geniuses left in Virenzia, except for the Supreme Creator’s.

  “You need to get out of here. Go back to wherever you came from,” he said.

  The Genius landed on his shoulder and rubbed its head against his neck. Giacomo’s heart skipped a beat. Maybe the reason it was there was to find him. Could this be my Genius?

  As soon as the thought formed, he wiped it away. Don’t be crazy.

  Giacomo remembered asking his parents over and over to get him a Genius like theirs for his fourth birthday. They lovingly broke the news that he was already too old. “If the Creator had wanted you to have one, it would’ve already come,” his mother said. Giacomo was crushed, but as he got older, he accepted his fate. In a way, it had been for the best. If he’d had a Genius, it would’ve been dragged away in a cage too. But if the Creator hadn’t intended for him to have a Genius, why was one sitting on him now?

  Giacomo rubbed his temple. It doesn’t matter. I can’t keep it.

  “Don’t get too comfortable,” Giacomo said, scooping the Genius off his shoulder. “You need to fly as far away as you can. It’s not safe for you here.”

  The Genius chirped brightly and spun in the air.

  Giacomo sighed. “I don’t think you understand the danger you’re in.” To make his point, Giacomo acted out each phrase with hand gestures. “Supreme Creator, bad. Lock you in cage. You die. I die.” He ended his bravura performance with hands wrapped around his throat and tongue dangling from his mouth. Surely the Genius would get the gist of that.

  It let out a delighted whoo, whoo, whoo, and circled Giacomo’s head.

  “Okay, I guess you didn’t get the message.” Giacomo waved his arms. “Go on, shoo!”

  But the Genius refused to leave.

  Giacomo got up and swung his satchel wildly, trying to drive the Genius away. “I’m serious. Get lost!” It zigged and zagged, avoiding the attack.

  Giacomo hung his head in defeat and that was when he noticed the stinging in his side had been reduced to a dull cramp. He’d been so preoccupied with the Genius, he’d forgotten all about his injury. He peeled back his bloodstained tunic, surprised to see a two-inch-long pink scar had formed. It didn’t make any sense. How in the world could a knife wound heal up in only a few minutes? He looked back at the Genius.

  “Did you have something to do with this?”

  The Genius chirped.

  “Is that a yes or a no? Sorry, I don’t speak Genius.”

  A booming voice interrupted them. “Hold it right there, young man!”

  Giacomo spun around. Two black-armored soldiers with pointed helmets rounded the corner, marching toward him with their swords drawn. “You’re out way past curfew,” the taller of the two said.

  “Tell us what you’re up to,” the shorter, muscular one demanded. “What was that bright light? Were you playing with fireworks?”

  So they saw the glowing orb too, Giacomo realized. He looked around for the Genius, but it was gone. Maybe it had finally understood the danger it was in and had flown away.

  “No fireworks, I swear,” Giacomo said, trying to stall.

  He heard a quiet cheep and felt a poke in the middle of his back. He reached behind him and touched the Genius’s soft belly with his fingers. It was either brave or clueless, Giacomo wasn’t sure which yet.

  “Stay close,” he whispered. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

  The soldiers closed in, the points of their swords leveled straight at him.

  Giacomo bolted, but the Genius didn’t follow. Instead, it hovered higher in the air. I’m definitely leaning toward clueless, he thought.

  The soldiers spotted it and froze. “Is that—?” the tall one said.

  “A Genius,” the short one finished. His eyes narrowed. “It must belong to the boy.”

  Giacomo watched as the Genius flew right between the soldiers, who swung their swords. Their blades missed and clanged against each other’s armor. They stumbled back.

  “Come on!” Giacomo shouted. The Genius zipped past him and down the street. Giacomo pumped his legs as hard as he could, but couldn’t keep up. “Wait for me!”

  The Genius banked and turned down an alley. Giacomo followed, assuming it knew where it was going. But then it flew up a winding staircase that led onto a balcony.

  “This is the wrong way!” he yelled, taking the steps three at a time. “We need to go under the ground, not above it!”

  “He’s up there!” one of the soldiers hollered.

  It was too late to turn back. Giacomo jumped onto a stone railing, wobbling as he ran. Reaching the end, he leaped over the alley, landing hard on an adjacent balcony, then scurried up to the top of the building. He raced across the rooftops, tiles clacking under his feet, the Genius soaring beside him.

  Up ahead, a bearded soldier climbed a ladder, blocking his path.

  Giacomo dropped down and slid across the tiles, crash-landing on a balcony. He scrambled back to his feet and barreled up another set of stairs, which spilled out at the top of a wall overlooking the city. He scanned the street below and spotted an opening back to the aqueducts. “Down there!” he alerted the Genius.

  He sprinted toward the end of the walkway, but the two soldiers who’d first found him clambered up the stairs in front of him.

  Turning back, Giacomo was met by the bearded soldier, his sword raised. With both exits blocked, Giacomo glanced from side to side. To his left was a sprawling marketplace, on his right, a street that was too wide to jump over to reach the next rooftop.

  “There’s nowhere to go,” one of the soldiers barked. “Turn over your Genius. You’re under arrest.”

  “It’s not mine,” Giacomo explained. “I never saw this thing before in my life.” The Genius squawked, sounding offended.

  The three soldiers closed in, swords at the ready. Giacomo considered his options again. Forward or back, I’ll be impaled. Le
ft or right and the fall will break all my bones.

  There was one other possibility. He glanced at the red gem on the Genius’s tiny crown. If the bird really was his Genius, then he might have a chance of escape.

  He pulled a hunk of charcoal from his satchel.

  “Drop it!” the bearded soldier ordered.

  “Get ready,” Giacomo whispered to the Genius. He sank to one knee and swiped the charcoal along the stone in quick, violent strokes.

  The gem on the Genius’s crown glowed and three red beams shot out. Giacomo had intended to distract the soldiers with a bright burst of light. Instead, the beams hit the walkway in an explosion of stone and dust. A wave of energy knocked the soldiers onto their backs.

  Giacomo leaped to his feet and bolted past the stunned soldiers. He bounded down the stairs, and dropped into the sewer opening, the Genius close behind. He tucked his arms in tight and slid down a pipe only slightly wider than he was. He was now covered in cold muck, but he’d never been so happy to smell the foul stench.

  The pipe spat him out into a bigger tunnel. A dim red light pulsed from the Genius’s gem, bathing the aqueducts in a warm glow.

  He huffed and puffed. “I wasn’t sure that would work … My parents used to create light shapes with their Geniuses, but I didn’t realize it would be so … destructive.” The tiny creature chirped softly and landed on his shoulder. “Anyway, it’s true! You are my Genius.”

  Elated, Giacomo scratched under the Genius’s ear and it let out a contented trill.

  * * *

  Back at his hideout, Giacomo collapsed into the hay-covered corner he used as a bed. For the first time in hours, his heartbeat slowed and his body relaxed.