Ink, Iron, and Glass (Ink, Iron, and Glass #1)(56)



Porzia arched an eyebrow. “You sound as if you’d like to stick a flag in him.”

While Elsa was curious how this woman from Leo’s murky past had suddenly appeared, she was more anxious to know the identity of her would-be assassin. “So the invaders who abducted my mother do have some connection with these Carbonari people?”

Leo sucked in a breath, as if her words had edges like broken glass. “You could say that. Some connection, all right.”

“Would you … care to elaborate?”

“Leo, you don’t have to—” Rosalinda started to say, but he interrupted her.

“The man named Garibaldi from Montaigne’s journals … he’s my father,” Leo said, his voice cracking. “My father’s alive.”

Rosalinda brushed his shoulder as if to remove a fleck of dust from his waistcoat, and she leaned in close. They shared a brief, muttered conversation, Leo’s expression somewhat glassy-eyed. Then he left the library without another word to anyone else. Elsa exchanged a look of disbelief with Porzia, who also seemed to be wondering exactly who this woman thought she was.

When Leo was gone, Rosalinda turned to them. “The boy has had quite a shock. You should let him rest. There will be time enough for hunting down Garibaldi once Leo has adjusted to the idea.”

Elsa herself could hardly believe it—Leo’s father was alive, and connected to her mother’s abduction. She narrowed her eyes at Rosalinda. “You’ve had the information we needed this whole time? How long have you been keeping this from him?”

Rosalinda pursed her lips. “Don’t judge what you don’t understand, child.”

Beside Elsa, Porzia folded her arms angrily. “I think you can judge how you like the feel of the night air after you walk yourself back out of my house. I’ll even show you the door.”

Elsa—who was so accustomed to standing alone in every conflict—grappled with the surreal feeling of having someone else defend her. How strange, to find herself shielded behind Porzia’s words when only a few days ago those same words had had their sharp points aimed at her. Was this what friendship meant, standing unified against common foes?

After Porzia bid Rosalinda a rather perfunctory good night, she and Elsa went looking for Faraz. They found him in a long, windowless room deep in the bowels of the house. A large engine chugged and huffed at the far end, and the walls on either side were lined with small alcoves, some occupied by house-bots and some standing empty.

Faraz looked up as they came in. He had a thick black rubber glove over his right hand, and a brass bug struggled in his grip. “What are you doing up and about? You should be resting.”

“Leo’s back,” Elsa explained.

He zapped the bug with an electrical prod and tossed it, still smoking, into a bucket of deactivated bugs. “Ah,” he said. “And?”

Elsa told him about Rosalinda’s visit and related what Leo had said about Garibaldi.

Faraz pulled the glove off and tossed it in the bucket. “Just to be clear, we now believe Leo’s father—who’s supposed to be dead—is somehow connected to, or perhaps even responsible for, abducting your mother? Doesn’t anyone else find this situation troubling?”

“This was always the situation,” Elsa said. “The only part that’s changed is now we know.”

Faraz pressed his lips together. “I barely remember my own parents.… To think I used to feel jealous of how close Leo had been with his family, how well he’d known them.”

Porzia shuffled her feet, her usual confidence drowning in doubt. “Perhaps we should let the Order handle this, after all.”

“Because they’ve done such an outstanding job so far,” Elsa said. “What precisely have they accomplished? Had a bunch of meetings?”

“Garibaldi has already made two attempts on your life!” Her voice rose an octave, shrill with distress. “What if he succeeds the third time?”

Faraz shook his head. “We can’t tell the Order about Leo’s relation to Garibaldi—it would call his loyalty into question.” He set his hands on his hips, exhaustion showing in the slope of his shoulders. “On the other hand, the house is effectively defenseless now, thanks to these damned bugs infiltrating Casa’s systems. Burak is still evaluating the extent of the damage, but I’d guess we’re in rather sore need of Gia’s assistance.”

Casa’s disembodied voice harrumphed. “I am not defenseless. This is merely a … a setback.”

“I meant no offense,” Faraz said soothingly. “You’ve been through an ordeal, and we simply wish to see you restored to your full glory as soon as possible.”

Porzia rolled her eyes at the word glory, but the house seemed mollified. “Oh, my dear humanlings, flattery will get you everywhere,” Casa said.

Elsa had a thought. “Porzia, could we get a message just to Alek or your mother in Firenze, without the rest of the Order finding out?”

Porzia bit her lip, considering. “We’d have to send a telegram instead of using the Order’s Hertzian machines. And it would be best if the contents were vague. Something only one of them would be able to correctly interpret.”

“Then that’s what we’ll do first. Come on, I need paper and pen.”

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