Instead, a sort of nauseous shame settled in Leo’s gut. The crisis was drawing to a close without him having done much of anything to resolve it.
* * *
Elsa’s rush of excitement was beginning to drain away, leaving her tired and irritable. The muscles in her shoulder were knotted up from carrying the weight of the nitrogen tank. She was filthy with coal dust and sweat, and wanted more than anything to sink into the cool, clear water of the bathing pool downstream from her village in Veldana. There was no end to the things she’d taken for granted about her home.
It was several minutes more before the train finally ground to a halt and Leo reappeared, sidestepping around the coal car. “Well, that ride was rather more diverting than I’d expected. What was in there, anyway?” he said, gesturing at the now-empty tank.
“Liquid nitrogen.” She sighed. “I’m afraid it’s probably fractured the casing of the firebox, but—”
“Only an alchemist should have thought of that,” Leo interrupted. He ran a hand through his already mussed hair, making it stick out in all directions. “You built a freeze ray. In two minutes, using a fake laboratory you carry around in your pocket.”
She blinked at him, wondering what the problem was. “Essentially, yes.”
“Just because you’re a polymath doesn’t mean you have to be brilliant at everything,” he said crossly. “For heaven’s sake, couldn’t you stick to just two disciplines?”
Men really were unbelievable—he had no logical cause to be annoyed with her. What did he want her to do, pretend to be dumb? “Next crisis, I’ll be sure to invent a creative, lifesaving solution in two minutes while simultaneously stroking your ego so you don’t feel overly threatened by a woman doing your job for you.”
Leo flushed bright red. “I see we’ve come full circle, back around to flinging daggers. Perhaps you could send a calling card ahead, so I know to come to the conversation fully armed?”
A small flower of guilt unfurled in Elsa’s chest, but she kept the feeling hidden. Impassively, she said, “You should know this by now: I always come to the conversation armed.”
The trip back to Pisa was full of stony silences. It bothered Elsa more than she cared to admit. Why should she worry over a petty argument with Leo when she had a pile of repaired books from Montaigne’s library to contend with when she got back? She could finally begin the search for her mother in earnest. The wounded pride of some young man of her acquaintance hardly mattered when held up against a sabotaged train and Jumi’s abduction.
It was just the awkwardness of being stuck in such close quarters with him that made Leo seem like the most important thing in the world. He had a frown line between his brows, and Elsa wanted desperately to ask him about his theories on who had sabotaged the train. Were they connected to Jumi’s abductors? Were they trying to stop her from finding her mother? But it didn’t make sense to try to kill her now, when they’d had ample opportunity in the cottage after the knockout gas put her to sleep.
Elsa kept her questions inside, and so they went unanswered.
The Italian transportation system’s procedures for dealing with broken-down trains left something to be desired, so they were lucky to get a cab ride back to La Spezia in time to catch the last train departing for Pisa. More than once, Elsa weighed the merits of using the doorbook to port directly back to Casa della Pazzia, but she decided not to antagonize Leo with yet another invention. By the time they rolled into the Pisa station, it was well past dark.
Leo silently helped her with the carpetbag full of books, and they stepped out onto the dimly lit platform. The night had turned cool, and aside from the other passengers departing from the train from La Spezia, the station looked deserted.
Elsa opened her mouth to apologize, but all that came out was, “Do you think we’ll be able to catch a hansom cab at this hour?”
Leo snorted. “Maybe in Paris. I hope your feet aren’t tired yet, because it’s a long walk.”
He still held the carpetbag, so as a courtesy she declined to point out that she was accustomed to walking all day through the wild terrain of Veldana.
“You ought to be able to summon the spider hansom to you,” Elsa mused.
“Well, I can’t,” Leo snapped.
She sighed. She hadn’t meant it as a criticism. “I know. I simply meant it was theoretically possible, if it can navigate back to Casa della Pazzia on its own. An idle thought, that’s all.”
“Oh, yes—I’ll get right on it,” he said sarcastically. “Perfecting the hansom is, clearly, a top priority.”
Elsa held her tongue and walked ahead.
Leo pushed out a noisy breath of frustration. “It’s just that we don’t even know what happened back there on the train. We have bigger concerns at the moment.”
They arrived at Casa della Pazzia long minutes later, both of them exhausted. Porzia appeared in the entry hall as soon as they were through the front doors; she took one look at them and clicked her tongue against her teeth disapprovingly.
“You’re late. And filthy. What did you do, walk all the way back from La Spezia? Casa, please prepare baths for the both of them.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Elsa said, grabbing the carpetbag out of Leo’s hand. “I need to check the worldbooks.”
“You look exhausted,” Porzia replied, hands on hips, a pose that made her look every inch the daughter of Signora Pisano. “We’ll all need our wits about us to explore the worldbooks. It isn’t the sort of thing one should do in the middle of the night after a full day of traveling.”
Elsa frowned. “I’m fine. It’s not your concern.”
Porzia put an arm around her shoulders and guided her up the stairs. “You won’t do your mother any good if you get trapped in a broken world, or disintegrated in a patch of Edgemist, or eaten by a scribed creature.”
Without saying a single word, Leo stalked past them, taking the stairs two at a time.
As soon as Leo was out of earshot, Porzia leaned toward Elsa confidentially. “He’s in quite a state. What’s wrong with him?”
Dryly, Elsa replied, “I’ve been compiling a list. Would you care to see?”
Porzia rolled her eyes. “I meant what happened? Did he have some trouble getting the restoration machine working?”
“No, that part went smoothly. But the train back from Cinque Terre was sabotaged, and that was troublesome.”
“Sabotaged!” Porzia stopped dead in her tracks and grabbed Elsa by the shoulders. “This is important, Elsa: Did Leo think it was a coincidence, or was the saboteur targeting you specifically?”
Elsa shrugged off the other girl’s grip. “I don’t know, he didn’t mention any theories either way.”
“Hmm.” Porzia went quiet, seemingly lost in thought as they went down the hall. But when they reached Elsa’s rooms, she bent down and deftly pulled the carpetbag out of Elsa’s grasp.
“Hey!” Elsa protested, too surprised to keep ahold of the worldbooks. “What are you doing?”
“Confiscating these until you’re well rested. Reckless mistakes get people killed, and I have a house full of orphans to prove it.”
“I need those books—there could be a clue to my mother’s whereabouts in one of them.”
Porzia tilted her chin down and gave Elsa a maternal glare. “Sleep first.”
“I can’t believe you!” Elsa protested, but Porzia was already striding down the corridor toward her own rooms, taking the stolen carpetbag of books with her.
“Good night, Elsa,” she called over her shoulder.
Elsa heaved a frustrated sigh, planted her hands on her hips, and stood there in the hallway debating the merits of chasing after Porzia for a confrontation. Porzia had acted out of concern, and whether or not Elsa liked to admit it, investigating the contents of the worldbooks in her current state of exhaustion could be dangerous.
Porzia was certainly right about one thing: her clothes were filthy—coated in a layer of coal dust, and speckled wi
th solder and lubricant from the process of constructing the freeze ray. Elsa went down the hall to the bathroom, struggled out of the dress, and grudgingly accepted the bath Casa had prepared for her. Back in her rooms, she had to pull all the covers off the bed again (one of the house-bots kept sneaking in to make the bed) so she could curl up on the floor.
She would investigate the worldbooks tomorrow, she promised herself. The very first thing tomorrow, but for now, she had no choice but to rest.
* * *
By the time Leo found himself alone in his room, the fire of jealousy in his chest had dwindled somewhat but not yet been extinguished. His elder brother, Aris, had been a polymath, and his younger brother, Pasca, had given every indication that he would follow in Aris’s footsteps; everyone had expected Leo to display the same breadth of skill, but he never developed a feel for anything but mechanics.
Only Rosalinda made him feel talented instead of stupid. She was the boys’ fencing instructor, and fencing was the one thing Leo did well that his brothers did not. She pushed his training harder than she did with Aris or Pasca, and despite her dour demeanor she would sometimes smile a little just for Leo. But even Rosalinda’s hard-earned praise could not erase that deep-seated sense of his father’s disappointment.
Leo had spent so much of his childhood wishing desperately for a polymath’s talents, and here Elsa was, wielding those talents as if they were as easy as breathing.
Shame followed quickly on the heels of his jealousy. In all other respects, Elsa’s position was hardly enviable. He knew it was not especially mature of him to resent her for her competence—competence that had saved his life. But that was part of the problem, wasn’t it? He wanted very much to be the one doing the saving.
Leo let himself out onto his balcony; he should have already had his fill of night air after the long walk from the train station, but the confines of his bedroom made him feel restless. Sleep, he suspected, would be a hopeless cause. Instead, he leaned against the wrought-iron railing and threw his head back to watch the stars.
The door unlatched behind him, and he knew it must be Faraz, because anyone else would have knocked first. They’d been friends a long time and knew which liberties were safe to take with each other. Footsteps crossed the bedroom, and Faraz appeared at the balcony railing beside him.
“Porzia said you were back.”
“Did she.” It was a clear night, and with the lights extinguished in the cloister garden below, the stars were piercingly bright.
Faraz draped one arm over the railing. “She also mentioned you had some … ah, problems with the train.”
Leo grunted a reluctant confirmation.
“Coincidental,” he pressed, “or do you think the sabotage was meant for you and Elsa?”
Leo finally looked down from the sky and met his friend’s eyes. “You know I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Which means either Casa della Pazzia, or the train stations, or the Pisano castle is being watched. Or any combination of the three.” Faraz paused. “We should report this to the Order.”
“I hardly think they’d allow us to pursue the search for Elsa’s mother if they found out we’re in danger. No, we have to keep this to ourselves.”
Faraz sighed. “Well, at least Porzia can’t blame me for not trying to knock some sense into you.”
“Porzia should learn to mind her own business, and so should you,” Leo snapped.
Faraz blinked at him, unfazed by his moods. “Are you entirely well?”
“No, but I’ll feel a lot better when we get Elsa’s mother back. I don’t know whose political game we’re playing in, but I am so very tired of the collateral.”
“You think it’s political?”
Leo snorted. “Everything’s political.” If his father had taught him anything, it was this.
Somehow, even though he thought he didn’t want to talk about it, Leo found himself giving in to Faraz’s questions and relating the details of what had happened. When he set his mind to it, Faraz could be as gently unopposable as the tides wearing away at a rocky coastline—there was nothing to resist, just water sliding out of reach. Leo described the sabotage and told him about Elsa’s ingenious solution, admitting his own failure in the process.
When the story was done, Faraz frowned thoughtfully. “Elsa’s no pawn in the political game, Leo. She’s the goddamned queen. Whoever took her mother may have seen her as nothing more than a loose end, but leaving her behind in Veldana was a serious miscalculation on their part. These people are going to figure out who stopped the train—there were witnesses, after all—and when they do, they’ll come after her. Whatever advantage we might have had in being young and unworthy of notice, we’ve lost it now.”
Leo rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms, frustrated. “I know. You think I don’t know that?”
If only he’d come up with a solution first, her identity as a brilliant polymath would be safe. Why hadn’t he just told her to wait in the passenger car, like he should have? Or at least sent the engineers away so there would be no witnesses. Stupid, stupid.
Faraz put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a reassuring squeeze. “Try to get some rest. I suspect we won’t have much chance for it after tonight.”
9
THE SEEKER AFTER TRUTH IS NOT ONE WHO STUDIES THE WRITINGS OF THE ANCIENTS AND … PUTS HIS TRUST IN THEM, BUT RATHER THE ONE WHO SUSPECTS HIS FAITH.
—Ibn al-Haytham
Elsa woke to the sensation of butterflies in her stomach. With the worldbooks practically calling to her from across the house, she couldn’t even consider trying to eat anything. She hastily got herself ready, grabbed the stability glove from the commode in her sitting room, and ran down the stairs.
Porzia was waiting in the library, seated at one of the reading tables and sipping a cappuccino out of a broad-rimmed china cup. The carpetbag rested on the table at her elbow, looking to Elsa’s eyes rather like an inanimate hostage. Elsa rushed over, opened the bag, and started laying out all the worldbooks on the table.
Porzia regarded her with raised-eyebrow amusement. “Rested then, are we?”
Elsa spared a moment to glower, then finished unpacking the books.
Faraz and Leo arrived with one of the younger children in tow. He was a scrawny lad with wide, dark eyes and a quick smile; Elsa was fairly sure this was the one named Burak.
Leo paused in the doorway and said to the boy, “This is very important: don’t let anyone inside. We have secret business to do for the Order, and we’re not to be disturbed.”
“Right,” Burak said. He glanced curiously inside, but did not press Leo for details. A grin flashed across his face. “If all of you die in there and leave me out here guarding your corpses indefinitely, I’ll be rather put out.”
Leo grinned back and clapped him on the shoulder. “If that happens, I’m afraid I’ll be past the point of feeling your ire.”
When the doors were shut, Burak on the far side of them, Porzia gave Leo a dry look. “I didn’t realize you required a private guard, Mr. Trovatelli.”
Leo sauntered over to their table, back to his usual insouciant self. If he was still mad about yesterday, Elsa could see no outward hint of it. He said, “If all four of us are going to be inside the books, don’t you think it’s wise to keep curious children from wandering in and playing with them?”
Porzia sniffed, granting him nothing. “In any case, shall we get started with the least damaged world?”
She reached out a hand for the book, but Elsa snatched it up, irked by the other girl’s bossiness. Flipping through the pages, she tested the feel of the paper beneath her fingertips. The gentle hum felt the same as yesterday: old and comfortable, settled, well-developed. A finished worldtext satisfied with its contents.
“They feel successfully repaired to me. But,” she grudgingly admitted, “we do have to start somewhere.”
The least-damaged world would also be the least risky to enter. This world didn�
�t seem a likely candidate for containing Montaigne’s private notes, but Elsa could evaluate its structural integrity. If the book repair process had left no residual damage here, it would probably be safe to proceed with searching the other worlds.
It cost her an ounce of pride, but Elsa made herself hand the book to Porzia, letting the other girl set the coordinates into a portal device. Porzia’s device was much newer and fancier than Elsa’s, with decorative silverwork set into the brass backing.
“Ready, everyone?” Porzia paused to glance up at them, nervous determination in her eyes. Then she flipped the final switch. “Here we go.”
The portal yawned open in the air before them. Elsa slid her hand into the stability glove, activated it, and stuck her arm into the portal up to the shoulder. She wasn’t entirely certain the glove would be able to detect an unstable world through the portal, but it seemed like a reasonable precaution. She drew her arm back out again and checked the indicator light, which had turned neither red nor green but remained dark instead. Inconclusive.
Porzia, one eyebrow raised, leaned over to view the results for herself. “Well, your arm didn’t fall off. That’s a good sign.”
“I suppose,” Elsa said. “Shall we risk it?”
Porzia surprised Elsa by linking arms with her. She’d expected Porzia to be the voice of caution and didn’t know where the other girl’s brash confidence came from. Together they stepped through into the frigid black nothingness, the boys right behind them, and out the other side.
Elsa craned her neck to take in their new surroundings. They stood on a ledge overlooking a dark, mist-shrouded abyss. A cliff face rose above them, decorated with a network of ledges, wooden ladders, and dark cave openings. Artificial terraces supported beds of tilled earth, but nothing grew in them. The wind whistled low and eerie, playing the cave-pocked cliffside like a flute.
Elsa held her arm out and splayed her gloved fingers, hoping to detect any potential instabilities. After a moment, the light turned green. For whatever that was worth. “It should be safe to move around a bit,” she said.
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