Ink, Iron, and Glass (Ink, Iron, and Glass #1)(12)
“Right … of course,” she answered slowly.
“Come along,” said Signora Pisano, “let’s find somewhere we won’t be disturbed again.” At this she cast a scalding look at Leo, then led Elsa and de Vries out of the ruined foyer.
Signora Pisano’s office was comfortably small compared to the grandiose vastness of the foyer, with wall-mounted gaslamps bringing out the warm tones of the wood paneling. Her shelves displayed mechanical baubles and trinkets instead of books. Signora Pisano sat behind her polished-wood desk while Elsa and de Vries took up the comfortable armchairs placed in front of it for guests.
When de Vries finished relating all that had happened, Signora Pisano leaned back in her chair and said, “That’s quite a story. You’re right, Alek, the Order will need to hear of this at once.”
“Naturally,” said de Vries. “I felt it was essential to secure protection for Elsa first, though.”
“Yes, yes.” Signora Pisano nodded thoughtfully. “I must say, Elsa, given your parentage, I would have thought scriptology would be your calling, not mechanics.”
“Well, I do scribe, of course,” said Elsa politely. “My mother taught me when I was little. We’re not exactly living in the steam age in Veldana, though, so I’m afraid I don’t know much about mechanics.”
Signora Pisano gave de Vries a significant look, complete with a raised eyebrow. “Both?”
He cleared his throat. “It appears so. Hence why I thought it best to bring her here immediately.”
Signora Pisano let out a breath and sat back in her chair. “Jumi da Veldana’s daughter, and a polymath besides.” She used the Greek word—polymathes—and it stood out sharp and cold against the lilting Italian syllables. Elsa jerked as if the word were a slap, unprepared for another new language so soon.
“What does that mean?”
De Vries took her hand in both of his, as if to deliver bad news. “You must understand, Elsa: most madboys and madgirls have a very specific interest or set of interests. They won’t—perhaps can’t—turn their attention to any topic beyond their chosen obsession. A polymath, however, is someone who experiences the madness but has no particular focus, being able to apply his or her genius to any field of study—scriptology or mechanics or alchemy, or any combination of the three—and thus having unlimited potential.”
“They’re exceedingly rare,” added Signora Pisano. “So rare some people claim they no longer exist. There are historical examples, of course, but no one alive today. If you are indeed a polymath…”
She frowned, as if sorting through the implications in her mind. Elsa felt unmoored. Last week she’d known exactly what her place was, but now she was in a different world, one she didn’t fully understand. And Signora Pisano did not seem to think being “rare” was a good thing.
De Vries said, “It puts you in a precarious position. Most madboys and madgirls are of limited use on the international stage, because their range of talent is too narrow. A government cannot commission a weapon from a madboy who only builds trains. But you…” He trailed off, unwilling to put the conclusion into words.
Elsa nodded, slipping her hand out of his grasp to knot her fingers together in her lap. Now when she spoke, her voice was small. “Everyone who wants power will want me.”
“Jumi hid your talents well. Even from me. What a fool I’ve been, thinking she was letting me keep up with her, when she was always two steps ahead.”
“Well, someone caught up,” Elsa said darkly.
Signora Pisano pursed her lips. “That they did. And we must assume they left you behind only because they didn’t know—”
The door flew open and a girl burst in. She was about Elsa’s age but dressed like a wealthy Parisian woman, her hourglass figure accentuated with a corset, the wine-dark velvet of the dress turning her light olive skin almost milky. The curves of her small mouth and round cheeks would have identified her as Signora Pisano’s daughter even if she didn’t immediately say, “Mamma, you’ll never guess—” Her smile vanished. “Oh, you have company.”
“Yes, Porzia dear, that’s why the door was closed,” Signora Pisano said, but she sounded more amused than annoyed. “There will be plenty of time for you to become acquainted with Signorina Elsa after we’ve finished here.”
Porzia paused in the doorway for a moment as if considering her options, but decided to take the hint. “Yes, Mamma.” She did a brief curtsy in the general direction of Elsa and de Vries, then swept out of the room, pulling the door closed behind her.
Signora Pisano paused, momentarily distracted. “Well, as we were saying, I suspect it was your mother’s ingenuity at hiding your talents that has kept you safe thus far. But since these unknown assailants now have Jumi in their possession, they may be … learning more.”
Stony-faced, Elsa replied, “You mean they may be torturing her for information.”
Beside her, de Vries inhaled sharply. “There’s no point in speculating.”
Signora Pisano leaned forward for emphasis. “Elsa, my husband and I—and Alek, as well—belong to a society of mad scientists called the Order of Archimedes. Its mission is to prevent the exploitation of mad people and to protect the integrity of our science. The Order will find your mother; this is precisely the sort of problem it exists to solve. Now, Casa, would you prepare a room for our guest?”