Ink, Iron, and Glass (Ink, Iron, and Glass #1)(26)
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.