Ink, Iron, and Glass (Ink, Iron, and Glass #1)(27)

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 where 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.

“Really…” Porzia stretched the word out like caramel. She got up from the chair and came around to the front side of the desk. “Have you finally come to your senses? Going to tell me what it is Elsa’s hiding?”

“No time for that,” he said impatiently. “Grab the keys! We have to get into the Corniglia ruins.” Ruined or not, the castle was still presided over by the Pisano family.

Porzia cast him a skeptical stare and planted her hands on her hips. “First off, there are only two trains a day to Cinque Terre, so no one’s going anywhere tonight. And second, you’ve gone insane if you think I’m going to take a trip out to the ruins now, of all times. I can’t leave Casa unattended for a whole day with Mamma out of town.”

“No need to stay on my account,” Casa said placidly.

Porzia rolled her eyes, exasperated. “I didn’t mean to imply you needed supervising, Casa—but your occupants do.”

“Hmph,” replied the house. “I am perfectly capable of herding those squalling human progeny in your absence.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Right. Because referring to the children as ‘squalling human progeny’ really instills confidence in your caretaking abilities.”

“See? I simply can’t get away,” said Porzia.

He shrugged. “That’s fine. I know how to find the place, so if you lend me the keys—”

“Absolutely not!”

“Hmm,” Leo said, pursing his lips as if Porzia were a troublesome engine. “Think of it this way: Would Gia be angrier with you if you lent me the keys, or if you abandoned the children?”

“I’m not going to do either,” Porzia said through gritted teeth.

“Please. It’s important.”

She folded her arms cattily. “Important enough you’ll tell me what Elsa’s hiding, and why you’re going to such lengths to help her?”

“Her life is not a story written for your amusement! There are larger forces at work here than our ridiculous games. I keep quiet for her protection,” he said, though this was not entirely true. Actually, he thought it might be better to have Porzia and Faraz informed and ready to assist, but he knew he had to respect Elsa’s wish for secrecy if he wanted her to accept his help.

“You think this amuses me?” Porzia said indignantly. “Casa belongs to my family—I am responsible for everything that goes on under this roof. If I am overinquisitive, it is with good reason. Leo, she has you in her thrall. What if you are the one who needs to be protected from her?”

Was that jealousy he read in the tightness of her lips? Was that what it all came down to—Porzia and her carefully calculated plans to acquire a mechanist husband? He said, “You have no claim on me. We’re not betrothed. My life is mine to spend as I will.”