Rebel Genius

by Michael Dante DiMartino

  “If I could take it back or make it right, I would.”

  “It’s too late to change what happened.” She pursed her lips, thinking. “But I know one way you can make it up to me.”

  Giacomo’s heart sprang in his chest. “How?”

  “You’re going to help us find the Compass, Straightedge, and Pencil,” she said with authority. “Whatever it takes.”

  His first instinct was to grab Mico and rush back to his room, but then Giacomo remembered how he’d ignored the one-legged beggar in the street. For so long, Giacomo had convinced himself he couldn’t help people in need because he had nothing to offer—he was poor and weak and starving too. But now he had the ability to tap into enormous power. And besides, he owed Milena after what he’d done to her. If he turned his back on everyone now, how could he ever feel worthy of his Genius?

  Step into the fear.

  He met Milena’s gaze, the candlelight glimmering in her brown eyes.

  “I’ll help you.”

  * * *

  Following a night of restless sleep, Giacomo returned to Pietro’s studio. His teacher was already up, feeding Tito. Milena stood at the table, poring over a dozen open books. Savino proceeded to work on his sculpture, which now resembled a fierce warrior swinging a sword. Aaminah tightened the strings of her viol. The dissident notes warbled into tune.

  “Finally, you’re up.” Milena flipped a page.

  Giacomo yawned. “Good morning to you too.”

  “I could barely sleep,” she said. “I’ve been reading everything I could find in Baldassare’s library about the Wellspring. Listen to what this artist wrote hundreds of years ago: ‘For I hath witnessed it with mine own eyes. One moment it is calm and beautiful, the next, a harsh, unyielding land that burns skin from bone.’” She held up her wrapped arm. “Pretty accurate, don’t you think?”

  Before he could answer yes, Milena opened another book on top of the first. “And check out this map. It dates back over five hundred years and was drawn by Poggio Garrulous.”

  “The explorer?” Giacomo vaguely recalled learning his name from one of his teachers at the orphanage.

  “And cartographer,” Milena added. “He mapped the whole world.”

  Giacomo peered over her shoulder at a depiction of the three empires. Unlike most maps, this one showed the world split into two: in the left circle lay Rachana, the western half of Katunga above it; the other circle contained Zizzola and the eastern part of Katunga. Garrulous had drawn it as if two planets were colliding, with rays of light shooting out. Around the map were illustrations of the Creator’s Compass, Straightedge, and Pencil.

  “It looks like the mandorla,” Giacomo remarked.

  “I know. And here’s what he wrote: ‘From the void of the Wellspring, the Creator used his Sacred Tools to bring into being the three great empires. With his Compass, he created the light of the sun, so that the world could see; with his Straightedge, he created the Genius, a living force that bound the world together; and with his Pencil, he drew the mountains, the rivers, the forests, the animals, and the people, so the world could come to know itself.’”

  “That’s the creation story,” Giacomo said dismissively. “Every kid in Zizzola has heard that.”

  “But not this next part.” She kept on reading. “‘Should humankind seek to possess all three Tools, be forewarned: misused, the Compass, Straightedge, and Pencil could undo the Creator’s work. Like unraveling the thread from a tapestry, the Sacred Tools have the power to rip apart the fabric of reality.’”

  “That makes it sound like the Tools could permanently open the Wellspring and allow it to spill out into our world.” Giacomo shivered at the thought. “Everything would be wiped out. No one would survive.”

  Pietro took a seat with them at the table. “That’s my fear too. Which is why we can’t let Ugalino or Nerezza find the Tools first.”

  “But I can’t believe either of them would actually use the Tools to destroy the world,” Giacomo said. “It seems like a terrible plan. I mean, if the world falls apart, they’ll be dead too.”

  “Correct, but simply the threat of using them could give Nerezza the upper hand. From what Baldassare has learned, she has her eye on taking over the other empires and spreading her rule across the world, starting with Zizzola’s old enemy, Rachana.”

  “And what’s Ugalino’s plan?” Giacomo asked.

  “He would use the Tools to overthrow Nerezza.”

  “Wouldn’t that be a good thing? Isn’t that what we’re trying to do too?”

  “The difference is, if Ugalino were to defeat her, he’d take power for himself,” Pietro complained. “And an Ugalino-led empire would be equally as harsh and oppressive as what we have now. I wouldn’t be surprised if he used the Tools to raze this city and build a new one of his own design. We’d be trading one tyrant for another.”

  Aaminah looked up from her instrument. “Signor Barrolo told me Ugalino took the gem out of his Genius’s crown and carries it around on his staff. Is that true?”

  Pietro nodded gravely. “The man has no respect for the sacred, or for the artist-Genius bond. Removing the gem may have given Ugalino more independence and power, but he’s turned his Genius into nothing more than an empty, spiritless creature. And if he became the ruler of Zizzola, he’d do the exact same thing to its people.”

  Mico hopped back and forth on the table, chasing a bug. Giacomo couldn’t imagine taking the gem off his crown. It seemed so cruel, like pulling someone’s heart out of their chest.

  Pietro stood and paced around the table, his voice becoming more and more emphatic. “In order for society to go through a true revival, whoever becomes Zizzola’s new leader must allow everyone to express their voices. For decades, our empire has been controlled by just one vision—Nerezza’s. It’s as if people have been allowed to drink only from one well—a well that dried up long ago. Zizzola is dying of thirst, and it’s up to us to bring it some new sources of water.”

  “This might sound dumb,” Giacomo said, “but what do we do with the Compass and the other Tools once we find them?”

  Savino chortled. “You’re right, that did sound pretty stupid. We take out Nerezza and her army, obviously.”

  “That’s only half of it,” Pietro said. “We’ve recently discovered information suggesting that a Tulpa can only truly be destroyed with the Tools’ combined force. Without the might of his Tulpa, or the power of the Sacred Tools, Ugalino would likely abandon his quest for domination.”

  His parents had once refused to attack the Tulpa. Would Giacomo make the same choice if given the opportunity? He wasn’t sure, but for now, he wanted to help Pietro and Baldassare any way he could.

  Giacomo looked over Milena’s shoulder at the book. “What else did you find about the Wellspring?”

  Pietro clapped his hands. “Enough reading! Giacomo, you’re not going to discover the insight you need in any book. It’s time to look within. That’s why this morning we’re going to learn about the triad.”

  “I thought you were going to teach me how to use the Wellspring to find the Compass,” Giacomo said.

  “The truth is, I can’t teach you anything—”

  “Then what am I doing here?”

  “You didn’t let me finish.” Pietro rose to his feet with the help of his cane. “I can’t teach you anything because the knowledge is already inside you. All I can do is guide you to recall it.”

  “How?”

  “By reaching beyond the five senses. You’ve stepped onto the path of sacred geometry and the only chance you have at gaining control over the Wellspring is to continue on that journey. So here we go!” Pietro rapped his cane against the table leg to get everyone’s attention.

  “The triad—represented by the triangle—is the merging of three.” Pietro motioned to Savino and Milena. “Could you two please demonstrate?”

  With a grumble, Savino traded his sculpting stick for a pencil and joined Milena in the center of the
room. They traced arcs in the air; Nero and Gaia each projected a glowing circle, and the two overlapped, creating a mandorla. Savino and Milena each made another stroke. From the top point of the almond shape, two lines extended down at angles, passing through the circles’ center points.

  “Two lines have emerged through the mandorla,” Pietro continued. “But in order for them to create a triangle, they need a third factor to bind them. Aaminah, you’re up.”

  Aaminah plucked a short string on her harp, creating a high-pitched note. Luna projected a yellow horizontal line that connected Savino’s blue line and Milena’s green line. A triangle came to light.

  “From this unified form,” Pietro said, “any number of other triangles can be created.”

  Aaminah plucked a flurry of notes. Multiple lines extended from different points on the triangle, illuminating a series of smaller and smaller triangles.

  Pietro must have taken Giacomo’s silence for confusion. He picked up a half-melted candle from the worktable. Its flame reflected in Pietro’s cloudy eyes. “Here’s another way to think of it: what is this candle made of?”

  “A wick and a bunch of wax,” Giacomo said, not sure what point Pietro was trying to make.

  “And…?” Pietro prompted.

  Giacomo had to think about it for a second. “Fire?”

  “Correct,” Pietro said. “Only when you add that third element—the flame—do you have a candle.”

  “Or you can think of it like Aaminah’s braids,” Milena added, holding up one of Aaminah’s long ropes of hair. “You can’t make a braid out of two separate lengths of hair. You need a third length to tie them all together.”

  Pietro nodded approvingly. “Excellent example, Milena. When two opposites are unified by a third element, a new entity is created.”

  “Let me see if I understand,” Giacomo said. “When I was living in the sewers, there was only me and my pencil. I could draw regular pictures that way, but I wasn’t able to create sacred geometry shapes until my Genius showed up, which was the third element?”

  “I think you’re catching on,” Pietro complimented.

  Giacomo smiled proudly, then noticed that Mico was pecking at the table, still looking for the bug. Giacomo gave his Genius a nudge. “Pay attention, you need to know this stuff too.”

  Nero, Gaia, and Luna stopped projecting and the kids gathered around the worktable. Pietro opened a drawer and pulled out a small metal drafting compass that held a pencil.

  “Now that you’re familiar with the first three sacred geometry shapes, you have the basic formula for all creation.” With his right hand, he planted the compass on a flat piece of paper and rotated it, drawing one circle, followed by another. The tips of his left fingers trailed behind, feeling the line as it created the mandorla. “The Compass generates the circle’s center point.” He took a long wooden straightedge and placed it over the circles’ center points, then used a pencil to draw a line between them. “The Straightedge connects the points and the Pencil links them with a line. And from that line, an artist can create every shape in the universe.” He finished by drawing the triangle.

  Giacomo watched in amazement as Pietro drew without the aid of his Genius or his sight.

  Pietro handed Giacomo the compass. “I want you to practice the first three shapes for the rest of the day, on paper.”

  “How is that going to help me find the Creator’s Compass?”

  “There are no easy answers, I’m afraid. The only way I know to find inspiration is to put in the time and effort. Art doesn’t appear in the world as a finished masterpiece. It always begins like a lumpy mound of clay.”

  Like Savino’s sculpture, Giacomo thought.

  “But as you mold it, the clay begins to take the shape of something recognizable. If you want to create a work of art, you must work at art. Embrace the lumpy phase, and you may find what you’re looking for.”

  “The lumpy phase…” Giacomo mumbled. “Great.”

  For the rest of the day, he spun the compass and used the straightedge and the pencil to draw lines and triangles. Circle, line, triangle. One, two, three. Circle, line, triangle. One, two, three. He repeated the process until his vision blurred and his hand cramped from clutching the compass’s tiny handle.

  When he had finished, he didn’t feel any closer to finding the Creator’s Compass, but Mico had become noticeably calmer. When he’d first started, Mico was hopping all over his paper, pecking in Giacomo’s ear, and fluttering around his head. As Giacomo drew his last triangle, Mico sat obediently on his shoulder, watching Giacomo’s every movement, as though he’d been pulled into a trance.

  “The more you’re able to internalize the sacred geometry shapes, the easier it will be to get your Genius to work with you,” Milena explained when Giacomo asked her about Mico’s improved behavior.

  Giacomo yawned. “I think I’ve had enough internalizing for one day. Good night.” Aaminah and Savino had already gone to their rooms. Milena drooped over the books, seconds away from slumber. Gaia was curled up on the table, her long neck wrapped around her body, her head tucked under her wing. “You should get some sleep,” Giacomo urged Milena. “The books will still be here tomorrow.”

  “I know,” she said. “Only a few more pages.”

  “Come on, Mico.” Giacomo’s Genius followed him upstairs.

  Giacomo lay in bed staring at the green velvet canopy above him. He’d drawn the mandorla and the triangle so many times, it looked like the fabric was embroidered with the pattern. He shut his eyes, but he could still see the glowing outline of the shapes.

  After what felt like hours, the lines of the pattern shifted and rearranged, taking the forms of his father and mother.

  They appeared in the villa’s hallway again, this time hovering a few inches off the floor. When Giacomo approached, they floated away, as if they hadn’t noticed he was there.

  “Wait!” he called out. “Tell me why you didn’t help the Supreme Creator. Why didn’t you try to stop the Tulpa?”

  His parents vanished through a door that resembled the one to Baldassare’s art vault. A moment later, they reappeared in a painting on the wall. They drifted into the frame, holding hands.

  “The Compass is within you,” his mother told him.

  “Let Garrulous be your guide,” his father said.

  Suddenly, the painting fell off the wall, hitting the floor with a thunderous crash. The frame split, tearing the canvas in half. The images of his parents smeared, then dripped onto the floor in a puddle of colors.

  Waking with a start, Giacomo shot out of bed, casting off the covers. Before he realized what he was doing, he had his sketchbook in hand. He flung the door open, then stopped himself.

  “Mico, sorry, I almost forgot—”

  His Genius zipped past his head, already awake and ready for action.

  Giacomo ran downstairs and bolted into the studio. “Master Pietro, wake up! I think I know how to find the Compass!”

  * * *

  Minutes later, everyone was gathered in the courtyard, looking groggy and annoyed that Giacomo had roused them from the comfort of their beds in the middle of the night. Giacomo figured the courtyard would be the best place to try his idea—if things got out of control, at least he wouldn’t bring down the villa on top of them.

  Giacomo convinced Savino to help him carry the globe from Baldassare’s study. Savino cradled the top, while Giacomo struggled with the heavy base. By the time they made it outside, Giacomo’s arms felt ready to rip off. He dropped the metal stand with a clang, its heavy base cracking one of the stones on the ground.

  Baldassare cringed. “Careful, please!”

  “Sorry!” Giacomo righted the globe, then spun it until Zizzola faced him.

  “So sewer-boy thinks he can crack a millennia-old mystery in one night?” Savino said. “This I have to see.”

  Pietro shuffled over to Tito. Freed from his cramped alcove, Tito stood nearly ten feet tall.

  �
��How are you going to find the Compass with the globe?” Aaminah asked.

  “Not only the globe,” Giacomo said. “I’m going to combine it with the Wellspring to create a kind of location device.”

  “Inspired thinking,” Baldassare complimented him. “Where did you get this idea?”

  “It sort of came to me while I was asleep. I guess what Pietro taught me about the triangle sank in.” When two opposites are unified by a third element, a new entity is created. Pietro’s words, seeing Garrulous’s map, his vision of the Compass inside the mandorla, the dream of his parents: they all must have been swirling around in his brain until something sparked.

  “With Tito, I’ll be able to keep the Wellspring’s energy contained,” Pietro said, relaying the details he and Giacomo had discussed before waking everyone. “Once we get it stabilized, I’d like you to man the globe, Savino.”

  Giacomo and Pietro had agreed that Savino would be best suited for the job. Giacomo selfishly didn’t want Milena in harm’s way again. Or Aaminah, for that matter.

  As expected, Savino embraced the danger. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

  Milena, Aaminah, and Baldassare backed away, retreating to the edge of the courtyard. Giacomo and Pietro stood with their Geniuses facing the globe, Savino behind them.

  “Ready?” Pietro asked.

  “Ready,” Giacomo answered.

  Pietro nodded and drew a circle in the air with his brush. Tito’s gem projected an orange ring, matching it perfectly to the circumference of the globe.

  “Bring it to light,” Pietro instructed.

  Holding his sketchbook in his left hand, Giacomo arced his pencil across the page. Mico projected a red circle and moved it closer to the globe. As Giacomo’s circle overlapped Pietro’s, he braced himself for the Wellspring’s onslaught.

  Bright light filled the almond shape of the mandorla and beams of light shot out from the top and bottom, like in Garrulous’s map.

  Freezing air streamed out, sending a shiver through Giacomo. Thankfully, the intensity of the Wellspring’s energy was kept in check by Pietro’s and Tito’s combined power.