They raced into the corridor, and Dex flicked on the lights before turning to latch the doors behind him.
“Whoa, this place is huge,” Sophie whispered as they climbed the grand stairway. She’d been expecting a dark, cramped hall, but this really was the Path of the Privileged. The entrance ceiling was gilded and decorated with frescoes, and the walls were covered in priceless paintings.
“Better hurry,” Dex said, running to catch up with them. “The tweaks I did to the lock won’t last. Plus, I can feel cameras, and it would waste too much time trying to deal with them. The obscurer flash might’ve fried their circuits, but it’s better to keep your head down. And let’s get cracking on that next clue.”
“Wasn’t it the one with the blood?” Biana asked. “If it was, think it has anything to do with this?”
They stopped in front of a cluster of portraits that looked like they’d been burned and pieced back together.
“No. Those paintings were destroyed during a terrorist attack back in the 1990s,” Sophie whispered. “I can’t imagine the Black Swan would ever call that ‘blood turned precious.’?”
Biana shuddered. “Humans are so awful to each other.”
“Uh, didn’t a Pyrokinetic elf just burn another building earlier today?” Keefe asked.
“Are you saying elves are as bad as humans?” Biana asked.
“I’m saying we’re not as different as we should be. Certain elves, especially.” The bitterness in his voice made it clear he meant his mom.
“Come on, let’s keep moving,” Sophie said, then realized they were forgetting a clue. Before the “blood turned precious” they needed “eyes that watch eternal.”
Could it mean the portraits staring at them?
That didn’t feel right.
Then she spotted a barred round window.
“Is this the one we saw in your memory?” Fitz asked.
“It’s hard to tell. The scene in my head was from the other side of the wall. But I just remembered that these windows were called Cosimo’s eyes. They were his way of keeping watch as he walked through the city. That’s the next clue.”
“Great, so now the blood part is next?” Biana asked with a grimace.
“Actually, I think I know what that means—and it’s not as bad as you’re thinking.”
Sophie confirmed it a few minutes later when they reached a row of wide panorama-size windows. “Yep, we’re on the Ponte Vecchio now. There are a bunch of gold shops lining the bridge underneath us, but they used to be butchers. The Medicis didn’t like the smell, so they moved the gold merchants here.”
Biana gagged. “I still can’t believe humans eat animals. Did you do that, Sophie?”
“Hey—check out that view,” Keefe said, saving Sophie from having to answer. “I’ll give humans this, they make their own kind of beauty. Even if that river looks pretty brown.”
The Arno River definitely wasn’t an inviting color, but it was lined on each side by pastel buildings, many with terraces and window boxes, like a scene from a painting. But the panoramic view also reminded Sophie of another less-than-awesome human fact. The windows they were looking through had been added for Adolf Hitler. He’d probably stood right where they were.
“Let’s go,” Sophie said, needing to get away from the evil in the air.
The elves might have done some terrible things over time—but she doubted they could ever match human monsters like Hitler.
“We must be getting close to the next clue,” she said, trying to stay focused. “Anyone see a tower? I’m guessing it’s part of the corridor somehow.”
“What do you think they mean about it not yielding?” Fitz asked as the corridor made a sharp turn.
Then another.
And another.
Sophie stopped. “I think we’re here. Vasari tore down pretty much anything in his way when he built this corridor. But there was a family named the Mannellis who refused to let their building be knocked down. So Vasari detoured the corridor around it, and I think that’s what we just did.”
Keefe smirked. “Look who knows all the things.”
Sophie looked away. Having to wonder if her memories were hers made her wish she could scrub her brain.
“The clue said this is where we’d find the next steps in our journey,” Fitz said. “Everyone spread out and look for the sign of the swan.”
They combed the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Sophie was starting to worry she’d guessed the clue wrong, when she realized a long scratch under her feet had a very distinctive curve.
“Over here,” she called, tracing her fingers along the mark. The curve deviated from its design to make a full circle—but she could still tell it was the sign of the swan.
“I feel a latch,” Dex said, pressing his palm against the floor. He twisted his hand a few times, miming turning a doorknob, and a quiet click made the floor drop away.
They stared at the rusty ladder leading down into the misty darkness.
“Okay, so who wants to climb down into the scary pit of doom first?” Keefe asked.