Ink, Iron, and Glass

by Gwendolyn Clare

  “I suppose that’s my area to assist with,” Porzia said, and rose from her chair as if she were performing a reluctant favor.

  “No need for that,” Elsa said hastily. “If you could simply point me in the right direction…”

  Too hastily, it seemed, since a spark of curiosity lit in Porzia’s eye. “It’s no trouble at all. I’d be happy to help you with … whatever it is you need.”

  This time, Elsa succeeded in transferring the still-reluctant Skandar back to its perch on Faraz’s shoulder. She could feel Leo watching her as she followed Porzia up to the second-floor balcony and around to where the scriptological texts were shelved. She carefully ignored his gaze. Then it was Porzia prodding her for information while Elsa browsed through the titles, trying to think of a way to get the other girl to leave her alone with the books.

  “Ooh!” Elsa exclaimed, taking a familiar volume from the shelf. “Wolker’s treatise on fundamental physical principles. And in the original German—perfect.” In truth, the book was dreadfully tedious, but she hoped it might discourage Porzia’s interest.

  Porzia’s face fell. “Right, well, now you know where the books are. If you’re sure there’s nothing else you need help finding, I should get back to my own studies.”

  Elsa took the unwanted volume down to a reading table and feigned interest in it for the next half hour, until Porzia finished with her own research and left the library. Then she could finally go back to the shelves and find the technical manuals she needed to finish scribing her lab book. She pulled down several volumes and hauled them all back to her room, intent upon completing her laboratory before the day was out.

  * * *

  Leo was trying hard not to think about Elsa. Even working on his amphibious walker—a difficult, ongoing project that should be sufficiently diverting—his mind kept wandering back to her. He couldn’t help but wonder what Elsa would think of these gear ratios, or wish there was a smaller pair of hands to help him tighten that bolt.

  Of the twenty children in residence, most were too young to have settled on a discipline. Burak was the only other mechanist, and while he sometimes provided assistance, Leo wasn’t in the mood for the company of a thirteen-year-old. Not now that ward number twenty-one had arrived, and she was Leo’s age, and brilliant, and quite possibly loved machines.…

  “She’s a secretive one, isn’t she?”

  Leo banged his head on the chassis, surprised at the sound of Porzia’s voice. He crawled out from inside the enormous machine and rubbed the back of his skull. “What do you want?”

  “Aha,” Porzia said, hopping up on a stool next to the workbench. “You didn’t say, ‘She? She, who?’ from which I infer you know I’m speaking of Elsa. And you agree she’s secretive.”

  He grunted and squeezed past her to switch on the signal scrambler so Casa couldn’t overhear. “I’m not in the mood for games, Porzia.”

  “You? Not in the mood for games? Someone find me a stone tablet, so we may engrave it to memorialize the day Leo didn’t fancy a game.”

  “Maybe it’s just your presence I don’t fancy,” Leo retorted.

  Porzia ignored the jibe. “She’s up to something—hiding in her rooms all day, scriptology books scattered everywhere, leaving only to visit the library. We’ve seen enough recent orphans walk through our doors to know this is not the usual behavior. Aren’t you the least bit suspicious?”

  He shrugged. “Perhaps she simply enjoys her work.”

  “She’s trouble, that one. I don’t know what kind of trouble yet, but I intend to find out.”

  “Porzia … this is an orphanage for mad kids. We’re all trouble.”

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You know something, don’t you? I can’t believe you found something out and you’re keeping it from me, you traitor!” She slapped him on the arm.

  Leo gave her a withering look. “Why don’t you worry less about how she spends her time and more about fulfilling your duties as a hostess.”

  Porzia arched an eyebrow. “And I suppose you’ve made a list of my failings in that regard?”

  “You could at least see to it that she doesn’t starve herself. She hasn’t had a proper meal since her first night here.” Leo watched Porzia’s expression harden and knew he’d gone too far. She took pride in Casa, in the role she would inherit from her father. He should not have criticized her hosting, but the words had already left his mouth and it was too late to swallow them now.

  Porzia pinned him with a frosty stare. “Very well, I’ll see to it that she’s at dinner,” she said, climbing off the stool. “And if you won’t assist, I’ll have to uncover the truth for myself. This is my family’s house, and I certainly don’t need your help protecting it.”

  * * *

  Elsa was adding the finishing touches to her lab book when Porzia arrived to drag her off to dinner. Inconvenient timing, but the other girl proved too insistent for Elsa to politely refuse.

  In the dining hall, Porzia ushered her to a seat beside Faraz and then sat across the table with Leo. Though Elsa sensed there was some significance to the seating arrangement, she hadn’t the faintest idea what it meant. Was there something possessive in the way Porzia positioned herself beside Leo? Not that it mattered, of course; Elsa had no interest in trying to insinuate herself into their social circle.

  The dinner train arrived, laden with another grand meal: white bean and tomato soup, pale fillets of fish served atop ribbons of pasta, and a custard pie decked with chestnuts. Elsa had thought she was hungry only moments before, but looking upon all the rich food she’d be expected to consume, she wondered if she wouldn’t soon explode.

  She leaned close to Faraz, lowering her voice. “Do they eat like this every night? I thought perhaps it was for show the first night, on account of my having just arrived.”

  “This is Italy. Food counts as an art form.” Faraz shared a knowing smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it. I did.”

  Elsa looked at him with surprise. She’d known Faraz wasn’t Italian, but somehow it had never occurred to her that he might also have once felt out of place here—the foreigner who did not comprehend the customs everyone else performed as a matter of course. Perhaps they were alike after all. “Where did you live before?” she asked.

  “When I was younger, I apprenticed with an alchemist in the city of Tunis. But when the French invaded Tunisia he sent me away.” Faraz sounded wistful, and he addressed this information more to his place setting than to Elsa.

  She wondered if it had been a mistake to ask. “I’m sorry.”

  “It was for my own good. As a Turkish citizen, my mentor could not be conscripted into French service, but I was a Tunisian and had no such protections.” The words had an undertone of doubt, as if he were trying to convince himself more than her of the necessity of his mentor’s actions. Then he looked up at her with a sad smile and added, “We’ve all lost things. That’s how we end up here.”

  “I am sorry,” she said again, and meant it.

  Porzia ladled soup into Elsa’s bowl, and the scent of garlic and rosemary made her mouth water. Revan would love it here, Elsa thought. He was always eating—he’d happily join any culture that spent hours at the dinner table. Watching Leo, Porzia, and Faraz made her ache for the childhood friend she might never see again. It no longer mattered that they’d hardly exchanged a civil word in years. He was the only friend she’d ever had, and he might be dead, along with the rest of Veldana. Her throat felt suddenly tight, and she was grateful for the custom dictating that no one should eat until all were served, because at the moment she could barely swallow.

  Get a grip, she chastised herself. Don’t think about it.

  Once the soup was served all around and everyone settled down to consume it, Porzia got that prying glint in her eye. “So, Elsa, tell us about your family. It must be very strange to be apart from them, in a foreign world.”

  Overhearing this, the children sitting closest to their end of the tabl
e perked up, and Elsa could feel their curious glances burning into her, even though she did not look at them.

  She shrugged, self-conscious and trying to dodge the topic. “There’s not much to tell.”

  “Oh, come now.” Porzia leaned closer and adopted a confidential tone. “I’ve told you all about my family’s fears and scandals.”

  “Very well,” said Elsa. She wasn’t especially eager to share anything, but perhaps Jumi’s history could distract Porzia from inquiring about her present situation. “In the early days of Veldana, Jumi—my mother—was involved with a man. He died. Some time later, Charles Montaigne scribed children into the world, and Jumi became retroactively pregnant without her consent. Hence why she fought so hard for Veldanese independence.”

  When she stopped speaking, everyone was staring at her. Leo had frozen with his wineglass halfway to his lips, and Porzia had covered her mouth with one hand. Most of the younger children had ceased their racket and were sitting with uncharacteristic stillness, eyes wide as saucers. Someone dropped a fork, and the clatter of it landing on the floor was the only sound at their end of the table. Elsa wasn’t sure what she’d said wrong. Now she was starting to feel flushed under the weight of everyone’s stares.

  “What?” she snapped.

  Porzia arched an eyebrow. “It’s funny how on some matters you know next to nothing, and on others you are shockingly well informed.”

  Faraz swallowed, as if there were something stuck in his throat. Elsa didn’t like the look of pity in his eyes. “So, you were born because—”

  She cut him off, relieving him of having to finish the question out loud. “Yes. In the days before Veldana’s independence, Montaigne forced a number of unsavory changes upon our world. Including creating pregnancy, whether the Veldanese women liked it or not.”

  Porzia looked away and busied herself adjusting the lay of her cloth napkin in her lap. “Well, that’s men for you.”

  “Hey,” Leo said indignantly. “Us menfolk are still sitting here, you know. It’s not as if we’re all evil masterminds looking to forcefully impregnate a bunch of innocent natives.”

  In the seat next to Elsa, Faraz tensed at innocent natives as if he did not like those words, but he held his tongue.

  Porzia glanced down the length of the table at the ranks of eavesdropping children, then gave Leo a pointed look. “And that, I think, is quite enough discussion of issues inappropriate for the dining hall. We’re all lucky Mamma took her meal in her office.”

  Not a minute later, Signora Pisano appeared in the dining hall doorway as if Porzia’s words had somehow summoned her. Everyone—except Elsa—jumped guiltily at the sound of her voice, and then made themselves busy with their meals. Elsa still wasn’t sure exactly what the problem had been. For a supposedly civilized world, Earthfolk could be such prudes about certain matters.

  For her part, Signora Pisano looked too flustered to notice anyone behaving oddly. “Porzia, dear—a word?” she said.

  Porzia cast a wide-eyed look at Leo, who raised his eyebrows in response. Elsa guessed the silent conversation meant something like, What’s going on? and It wasn’t me, I swear. Then Porzia was out of her seat in one smooth motion.

  Signora Pisano lowered her voice, but Elsa could still overhear. “I’m afraid matters with the Order have become … complicated. Your father’s requested my presence in Firenze. You’ll have to take charge while I’m away.”

  Elsa, who expected Porzia’s reaction to involve some self-important blustering, was surprised to hear the other girl softly say, “Of course, Mamma. What needs to be done in your absence?”

  “I’ll write you a list.” Then Signora Pisano raised her voice to ensure all the children heard the instruction to obey Porzia’s authority in her absence. The Pisanos, mother and daughter, left together to settle the details, while the dining hall erupted with curiosity and supposition about the mysterious goings-on of the Order of Archimedes.

  Elsa found her appetite had vanished as she worried over what, exactly, complicated was supposed to mean. De Vries was in Firenze, meeting with the Order. He’d seemed so confident they would help, but what if he’d been wrong?

  In all the commotion, Elsa slid off her chair and crept out of the dining hall, freeing herself of the obligation to sit through the entirety of the too-long meal. She thought she’d managed to make a clean escape, but the sound of footsteps in the hall behind her told her otherwise. She looked back to see Leo jogging to catch up, and with a sigh of defeat she stopped walking.

  Even as he rushed up to her, he managed to preserve an unhurried air about himself, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “You left early,” he said. “If I were the easily offended type, I might come to the conclusion that our presence repels you.”

  Elsa shrugged. “I like being alone.”

  “Nobody likes being alone,” Leo insisted, his voice suddenly too sharp. “You adapt to being alone if you must, but no one enjoys it.”

  She blinked at him, surprised by the sentiment. His mood changed like a sea breeze that couldn’t decide from which direction it should blow. “Who elected you Speaker for Everyone Everywhere? I, for one, enjoy a bit of solitude.” To Elsa it was a foreign concept that anyone might abhor being alone.

  “Sure, just keep telling yourself that,” Leo said with a slight grin, his sharp edge vanishing as quickly as it had come.

  Elsa huffed out a breath, uncertain how to deal with him. “I have work to do.”

  Leo tucked his hands into his pockets and leaned against the wall of the corridor. “The Order’s urgent business—first Signor de Vries and now Gia rushing off to Firenze—this is all about your mother, isn’t it?”

  Elsa knotted her fingers together to keep her hands from clenching into fists. “I have every confidence in de Vries.”

  “De Vries and two dozen other pazzerellones you’ve never met before?” Leo said skeptically. “You’re not seriously going to sit by while some strangers in another city may or may not be looking for your mother, are you?”

  “Well … yes,” Elsa lied.

  “No, you’re not! And do you know how I know?” He pushed away from the wall, his breath rapid with agitation. “Because if there were even the slightest chance that I could be reunited with my family, no power on Earth could stop me. That’s how I know.” He turned abruptly as if he meant to stride off, but he stopped short. His shoulders hitched as he took a deep breath, mastering his temper.

  Reluctantly, Elsa admitted, “I am … investigating my own line of inquiry, but it’s slow going.”

  He turned back a little, not quite facing her, but at least she could see him in profile. He had the pocket watch out again and began slowly walking it across his knuckles like a very large coin, staring down at his hands as if it required his full concentration. “I can help you save your mother, if you’ll let me.”

  His pain was too raw to bear, etched like shadows around his eyes. Quietly, Elsa said, “It won’t bring you comfort, to watch me get back that which you cannot.”

  “I know.”

  “Then why?”

  Still without looking at her, he said, “Because no one should lose everything. It isn’t just, and I was raised to believe in a just world.”

  She stared at him, searching for any sign of false intentions. How much harm could it cause to explain what had happened?

  Elsa pursed her lips for a moment, then related the details of the abduction, Montaigne’s murder, the fire, and the damaged worldbooks. She left out the part about being a polymath; she did not have to tell him all her secrets.

  Leo defied her expectations and proved to be a patient listener. When she finished the story, he frowned thoughtfully and said, “That’s not much to go on.”

  “I don’t know who took my mother.” Saying the words aloud made her chest ache with renewed fear, as if she were reopening a partly healed wound. “I don’t know if the Veldana worldbook survived the fire, and even if it did, I don’t know wher
e it is now. All I have is the hope that they burned Montaigne’s library for a reason—that somewhere in his worldbooks there’s a clue they didn’t want anyone to find.”

  “So you’ve been trying to repair the books by hand? That’s insane, it could take you months to get through all of them,” Leo said. “Whoever abducted your mother, whatever their intentions … even if she refuses to help them at first, there are ways of persuading a person. Unpleasant ways.”

  Elsa’s voice rose, a note of desperation creeping in. “You think I don’t know that? I’ve been prioritizing as best I can. What else can I do?”

  His expression brightened with the light of a dawning scheme, his amber eyes seeming to glint. “What if there was a faster way to repair the books?”

  “‘What if,’” Elsa muttered, impatient with his ambiguity. “Are you saying there’s a faster way? Tell me what it is!”

  Leo simply offered a sly smile. “Get the worldbooks packed. I know where we have to go.”

  6

  WE TRAVEL TO LEARN; AND I HAVE NEVER BEEN IN ANY COUNTRY WHERE THEY DID NOT DO SOMETHING BETTER THAN WE DO IT, THINK SOME THOUGHTS BETTER THAN WE THINK, CATCH SOME INSPIRATION FROM HEIGHTS ABOVE OUR OWN.

  —Maria Mitchell

  Nestled along the rugged coastline north of Pisa, Leo said, were five little villages collectively referred to as Cinque Terre, and near one of those villages hid the ruins of the Pisano ancestral castle. Once a refuge for pazzerellones, the ruins still contained a collection of old inventions. When Leo was twelve, the Pisanos took him there for the first time, and he felt like a knight running amok in a dragon’s hoard while the dragon was away, with room after room of old treasures to be discovered.

  And he still remembered, in one large laboratory, the book restoration machine.

  Leo took the corridors at a jog. He burst through the cracked-open door of Gia’s office to find Porzia on the other side.

  She looked up from her seat at her mother’s desk. “Mamma’s already left for the train station. You just missed her.”

  “Actually, I was hoping to find you,” he said, a manic edge to his voice making the words spill out too fast.