“This is why you kept training me, even after the fire. It was all to prepare me for this.” Leo ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. “Wasn’t it?”
Rosalinda took his chin in her hand, lifting it up; Leo wouldn’t have let anyone else touch him like that, but this was Rosalinda. She appraised him with those stern eyes of hers. “I could have made a fine agent out of you, Leo, perhaps the finest I ever trained for the Carbonari. But you’re right—it wasn’t them I’ve been training you for.”
“I would have, you know.” His voice came thin and hoarse. “I would have fought for you.”
“You have your own battles to fight now.” She moved her hand to the back of his neck and drew him into a fierce embrace.
Leo froze, bewildered by her sudden tenderness. Rosalinda had never been prone to fits of maternal nurturing the way Gia was, and though he knew she cared about him as a teacher cares for a pupil, he’d never imagined she felt a parental sort of affection.
Rosalinda pulled back to look him in the eye, holding his face in her calloused hands. “You can defeat them. You’re stronger and faster than your father and Aris both.”
Leo stared at her. Her eyes were hard as a hawk’s, and what wrinkles she had spoke more of determination than worry or joy. Could it be that this unsentimental woman loved him, when his own father had not found him worthy of love?
“Stronger and faster, but not smarter,” he whispered.
Rosalinda harrumphed. “Smart enough, dear boy,” she said. “Smart enough.”
*
Alek lowered himself stiffly onto the stone bench in the gardens behind the Order’s headquarters, and he waited. The sky was turning pale, but the sun had yet to crest the horizon. From within a nearby shrub, a songbird whistled a melancholy tune.
He pulled the folded telegram out of the pocket of his waistcoat, smoothed the creases as best he could, and read the words again. No, he had not mistaken Elsa’s meaning—she was asking permission to proceed with Jumi’s rescue.
“This isn’t like you,” Gia said, settling onto the bench beside him. “Clandestine meetings at dawn.”
“I need a favor.”
Gia looked at him steadily. “You want me to go back to Casa della Pazzia.”
“I have no obligations waiting for me in Pisa—it would look suspicious if I leave.”
“So instead of running off to collude with Jumi’s daughter, you want me to go in your place,” she said. “The Order is divided on the matter of how to deal with Garibaldi’s return. Filippo needs my support here.”
“Please, Gia. I know this is a lot to ask, but Jumi is like a daughter to me,” he said. “What would you do if Porzia were in her place?”
Gia pursed her lips at him. “That’s a low blow, old friend. And what am I to do with the girl? I thought you wanted her safe.”
He dropped his chin to his chest. “Elsa was never going to leave this alone, I should have known that. And I never thought…” He paused, the unbelievable situation momentarily robbing him of words. “These pazzerellones don’t care about rescuing Jumi. Some of them actually believe she’s working with Garibaldi.”
“I received a telegram, too—from Porzia, asking for help. Not in so many words of course, but…” Her voice trailed off and she frowned thoughtfully for a minute. “Do you think it’s wise to encourage them? They’re hardly more than children. What would you have me do?”
“Tell them the truth,” said Alek. “Tell them not to wait for help from the Order, because there is none coming. Tell them to save Jumi.”
“This is madness. They’re too young to face such dangers.”
“You’ll be there to guide them, at least. We were just as reckless in our youth, and for lesser reasons.”
“And how well did that work out for the Pisano brothers?” she said sharply. “Have you forgotten?”
“Of course not.” Speaking of low blows, Alek thought. A muscle in his jaw tightened at the memory of what they’d had, and all they’d lost. “We can’t lock our children away from the world forever, Gia. Better they act with our support than behind our backs.”
“God forgive me,” she said with a sigh. “I’d better go if I’m to catch the morning train.”
*
Leo paced Porzia’s too-small sitting room from one side to the other and back again. How Faraz could stay seated—the very picture of patience and calm—he could not fathom. Midday had come and gone with Elsa and Porzia remaining closed up in the study. “Why is this taking so long? What do you imagine the girls are doing in there?”
“Scriptological feats of genius never before conceived of, I’d assume.” Dryly, Faraz added, “It might be another minute or two. I hear it takes time to bend the laws of reality.”
“Not as much as you’d think, when Elsa’s involved,” Leo muttered.
“Will you sit down? You’re making Skandar nervous.” Clinging to Faraz’s shoulder, the little beast fanned its wings and batted uncertainly at the air.
“Oh, well, if the tentacle monster’s nervous…,” Leo said sarcastically, but he tried taking a seat anyway. He quickly found that sitting still only worsened the anxious tension in his chest, so he hopped back up and resumed pacing.
Finally, Elsa and Porzia emerged from their scriptological sanctum. Elsa cradled a book in one arm, and Porzia was holding a portal device.
Leo stopped midpace. “Is it done?”
“We’ve designed a tracker,” said Porzia. “Now we just need to input a target.”
“And how long is that going to take? What does that even mean?” He threw his hands in the air, his already frayed patience giving way.
“Leo,” Elsa said quietly, putting a calming hand on his arm. “It means we can use the tracker to locate anyone. Including your father.”
He looked at where she was touching him—delicate brown fingers against the white cloth of his sleeve. Strange, how such a small gesture could evaporate all that pent-up frustration.
When he didn’t reply, she pulled her hand away, embarrassed. “Are you well?”
Leo cleared his throat. “There’s something I need to tell you all: Rosalinda heard a rumor that my father has acquired a very powerful weapon. Something made using scriptology.”
He could see Elsa’s mind racing. “Do you think Garibaldi’s compelling Jumi to create scriptological weapons?”
Porzia said, “All the more reason to confirm whether or not Garibaldi took Jumi, and to get her away from him.”
“Yes.” Leo took a deep breath and let it out. “Yes, right. Let’s do this.”
Elsa shook her head as if to clear it. “I’m going to need an object that belonged to your father to target the tracking device.”
“I have his pocket watch,” Leo said, unfastening the chain from the buttonhole on his waistcoat.
“But you’ve been carrying that thing around for years,” Faraz protested. “If the tracker relies on some intangible sense of possession, won’t the watch’s ownership have switched by now?”