Mist, Metal, and Ash Page 11

  Finally she found Burak in the courtyard with Sante and Olivia. Olivia was seated on a stone bench with a large book open in her lap; Sante and Burak were dueling with branches they must have snapped off one of the ornamental trees planted in the courtyard.

  Porzia squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, praying for patience. What had she just argued to Mamma, about Burak being mature enough to stay behind? And Sante was nearly two years older than Olivia, yet he showed only half her diligence.

  “Burak, you’re needed,” she called. “Burak!”

  The boys stopped their play-dueling. Burak tossed his stick aside as if he’d already forgotten all about the game, eager to help even before he knew what he’d be helping with. Disappointment and jealousy flashed in Sante’s eyes, but Porzia didn’t have time for her brother’s feelings.

  Burak jogged over to where Porzia stood near the entrance. “Zia Gia?” The orphans often referred to her mother this way, as aunt, though there was no relation.

  Porzia nodded. “In the basement. Off you go.”

  Olivia and Sante came over as Burak ran off to fulfill his task. Hugging the book to her chest, Olivia quietly asked, “Is it serious? Is there anything we can do?”

  Porzia deliberated, not wanting to spread panic through the children. “Just … make sure everyone knows that lunch today is not optional.” Gathering in the dining hall should seem neither suspicious to Casa nor frightening to the residents.

  Her siblings went off to spread the word, and Porzia was momentarily left alone with the tense anxiety in her chest. Even if the children weren’t in immediate danger from the house, she still needed to get herself out as quickly as possible for Elsa’s sake. Suddenly it seemed incredibly risky that she’d left the doorbook unattended in her study, where Casa could confiscate it at any time. Porzia ran back upstairs as fast as her skirts would allow, burst into her rooms, and frantically unwrapped the oilcloth inside the box.

  The doorbook was still there.

  She pressed a hand against her corseted ribs, her relief even sweeter than the oxygen she sucked in. Portal devices were replaceable, but there was only one doorbook in the world—or in any world, as far as she knew. She picked it up, wanting the tangible connection as reassurance. She hadn’t lost it. This part of the plan, at least, hadn’t fallen apart.

  Flipping open the doorbook, Porzia discovered that Trento was no longer the last entry—there was a newer description, in Elsa’s hand. Cinque Terre, where the Pisano ancestral castle was hidden. The castle couldn’t be accessed without the Pisanos’ keys, which meant Elsa had scribed the location specifically for Porzia.

  She closed the book and had to blink unexpected moisture from her eyes. Even with everything else going on, Elsa had planned contingencies for her. God, she hoped she’d done the right thing, reporting Elsa to the Order.

  After a moment of indecision, she found a satchel to carry the wooden box in and slung it across her shoulders. Better to keep Elsa’s escape kit with her, so Casa couldn’t easily confiscate it. Then she went downstairs to her mother’s office to retrieve the keys to the ancestral castle in Cinque Terre—another irreplaceable tool they might need in the immediate future.

  Lunch was a tense affair. The youngest children were conspicuously absent, and the older ones uncharacteristically subdued after Porzia shut down their speculations with a stern glare. Revan tried asking her what was going on, but Porzia cut him off with a small, sharp shake of her head. Faraz didn’t show up at all, a fact that tied her stomach in knots and made it nearly impossible to eat. Had something happened to him? The absence of Gia and Burak was expected—they were off trying to fix the house—but she couldn’t imagine what had held up Faraz, unless Casa had done something awful.

  Halfway through the meal she tossed her napkin down beside her plate and stood. Revan rose to follow her; she tried to wave him back into his seat, but he persisted, and Porzia decided it wasn’t worth making a scene in front of the children.

  As they moved to leave, Sante looked at them with raised eyebrows, so Porzia told her brother, “Keep everyone here.”

  “I can do that.” He nodded vigorously, proud to have even a sliver of authority assigned to him.

  They left the dining hall, and Revan tried again to ask her what was wrong, and she again rebuffed him. His Italian was much improved, even compared to yesterday, and for once Porzia felt more grateful for than jealous of that scribed Veldanese ability to pick up languages. At least they didn’t have a communication barrier to deal with, on top of everything else.

  And yet, for someone who understood, he was not especially good at listening. “I don’t have time to fill you in; will you please just go back in the dining hall and wait with the others.”

  “I’m not a twelve-year-old,” Revan protested. “Let me help. I crossed worlds to help Elsa, and she just up and left without so much as a goodbye. There has to be something I can do that will make this whole journey seem less … futile.”

  Porzia stalked down the hall. “Fine, do what you like, I also don’t have time to waste arguing.”

  With Revan following at her heels, Porzia found Faraz in his lab, quite alive and seemingly unperturbed. He was scratching chemical formulae across a slate chalkboard, while his pet tentacle beast balanced on his shoulder. A wave of relief flooded through her—he was fine, nothing had happened to him—but it quickly transmuted into anger for the unnecessary worry he’d caused her.

  “I can’t believe what I’m seeing. What do you think you’re doing at a time like this?”

  Faraz glanced behind him as if he hadn’t heard them come in. “Oh, hello. I’m working, what does it look like?”

  “Didn’t Olivia tell you about … lunch?” she said meaningfully.

  “Sante said some nonsense about mandatory mealtimes, but really, I know you’re not that concerned about my eating habits,” he replied.

  “You haven’t noticed anything amiss lately?” Porzia asked suggestively. Seeing that he clearly had no idea what she was talking about, she added, “Wow, that is an impressive level of obliviousness, even for an alchemist.”

  His brow lowered into a frown at that. “To what, exactly, are you referring?”

  “Not here,” Porzia hissed. “Come along.”

  She’d meant the invitation for Faraz alone, but Skandar came riding on his shoulder, and Revan stuck to her side as she left the alchemy lab and rushed through the house to Leo’s cavernous mechanics lab. Inside, Porzia flipped the switch on the signal scrambler, and then let out a sigh of relief.

  “All right, now we can talk without Casa monitoring our conversation.” She proceeded to catch them up on the current crisis.

  Faraz grew quiet as she explained, thoughts racing behind his dark eyes.

  It was Revan who said, “But you’re all pazzerellones. You’ve thought up some brilliant solution, haven’t you?”

  “Sort of.” Porzia chewed her lip for a moment before explaining, “The science of scriptology actually predates the invention of the portal device. Early scriptologists used a portal ledger to scribe the portals into existence, which was supposedly quite laborious, not to mention dangerous.”

  Revan said, “Okay. So all you have to do is make one of those.”

  Porzia held up her index finger. “Slight problem: no one’s used a portal ledger in over three hundred years. The script has been lost to time. I’d have to reinvent it from scratch.”

  Faraz folded his arms. “Explain the ‘dangerous’ part.”

  “Portal-device portals close automatically, as a safety precaution. Ledger portals have to be closed manually with the proper script. Apparently, if you leave a portal open for too long, it destabilizes and starts to affect the realspace around it.”

  “How do you know all this?” he said.

  Porzia rolled her eyes. “How do you think? I read, Faraz.”

  He frowned at her. “So you don’t actually have any notion of how ledger portals work, or what happens when
they go wrong.”

  “All right, then,” Porzia snipped. “Let’s hear your brilliant alternative plan for how we’re supposed to escape.”

  Faraz said, “What about an old-fashioned breakout? Go out the windows, rappel off the roof, that sort of thing.”

  “Thanks for the great idea, Leo,” Porzia sneered. “But if we so much as gaze longingly out the windows, Casa will initiate a full lockdown. There’s no chance we’ll have time to get everyone out that way.”

  For a brief moment he looked shocked, as if her words hit him like acid, then his expression smoothed over. “Right, because your plan is so incredibly practical.”

  “Arguing isn’t going to help anything,” Revan interjected calmly, trying to mediate.

  “What are you even doing here?” Porzia snapped, her temper brittle from stress.

  “At least he’s right that this is pointless,” Faraz said. On his shoulder, Skandar fluttered anxiously, picking up on his frustration. “What would help is a way to get out of this damned house.” He climbed the half flight of stairs to the door, then opened it and slipped through without a backward glance.

  “Unbelievable!” Porzia declared. She hefted the signal scrambler, balanced it against one hip, then followed out the still-open door, yelling, “Faraz! We are not done. Get back here.”

  She was unaccustomed to being on the receiving end of someone storming angrily out of the room, especially when that person was Faraz, who usually behaved so peaceably. He stopped walking when it was clear she didn’t intend to let him get away, but his arms were still tightly crossed against his chest.

  Porzia said, “We have to try something! Who knows how long it will take Mamma to repair this disaster. We can’t just wait here while Aris deciphers the editbook.”

  “The whole point of retrieving the editbook is that we’re trying to prevent the world from being irreparably damaged,” Faraz replied, his voice tight. “And you seriously want to propose a solution that involves potentially destabilizing reality? Am I the only one smelling irony here?”

  “You’re the only one here, period,” Porzia muttered, realizing that Revan had not joined them in the hallway.

  But just then he came loping down the hall from the direction of the foyer; he must have run upstairs while Porzia was focused on fighting with Faraz. He held his right arm pinned against his side and there was a bulge under his coarse linen shirt, as if he was carrying something concealed. He was not out of breath, but there was an excited, keyed-up sort of look in his eyes.

  Revan revealed the object to them: it was a portal device.

  Porzia gasped. “Where did you get that?”

  “It’s the one I took from Jumi’s cottage. I hid it when I got here. And besides, I’m not a pazzerellone—it probably didn’t even occur to the house that I might have one.”

  “Revan, I…,” Porzia began, but she lost the words, embarrassed at how blithely she’d dismissed him before.

  Faraz put a hand up to steady Skandar as he leaned forward to look at the portal device. “We still have the problem that it’ll take time to herd a dozen children one by one through a portal, and there are house-bots everywhere. Casa can respond almost instantaneously to any perceived threat.”

  “Give it to me,” Porzia said. Her arms still full with the signal scrambler, she angled herself so Revan could stuff the portal device in her satchel. “You two, go back to the dining hall and keep the children occupied. I need to consult with our mechanists.”

  Porzia rushed off, not sparing time for the boys’ reaction to her command. She couldn’t afford to care whether they bristled at being ordered about, not in the midst of a crisis.

  She found Burak on the basement level, sweaty and smeared with grease, but unself-conscious about his appearance in the typical fashion of a mechanist. He looks so like Mamma, Porzia made herself think, because the alternative was He looks so like Leo, and that was an intolerable mental road to follow.

  She passed him the signal scrambler and explained what little she knew about it. “It seems to have been quite effective so far. My question is, do you think it will keep us hidden if we open a portal?”

  “I’d have to take it apart to be sure, but I’d guess it just has a selective sound-dampening effect that interferes with Casa’s ability to hear. I doubt Leo designed it to mask the signature of a portal opening.”

  Porzia nodded, hiding her disappointment with practicality. “So we’ll need a distraction, then.”

  “Or I could cut the power to the charging stations, so the bots can’t recharge,” Burak offered. “Take them all out of commission.”

  Porzia tapped a finger against her chin, considering. “Is that the sort of problem Casa would be able to repair unassisted?”

  “I can squeeze into the wall space and mess with the wiring in a place the bots can’t reach. Might even be able to rig it so Casa thinks the charging stations are still functional.” There was a gleam in his eye that reminded her uncomfortably of that mechanist who shall not be named. “We’d have to wait overnight for all the bots to run out of charge, but it’ll give us at least a brief window in the morning, before Casa figures out how to redirect the power.”

  Could Porzia afford to wait another night before fulfilling her mission in Trento—or rather, could Elsa afford for her to wait? But what other choice did she have, when this was the best plan for safely getting out as many children as they could? Once again Porzia found her priorities at war with each other, duty to family and loyalty to a friend pulling her in two different directions. But indecision helped no one.

  “Do it,” she said to Burak.

  Porzia took the signal scrambler with her when she left the basement level, but she flipped it off so she could speak with the house.

  “Casa, are you there?”

  “Always, signorina. How may I be of assistance?”

  The thought of what kind of assistance Casa might provide sent a quiver through Porzia, but now was not the time for honest reactions.

  “You were right,” she said, “we’ve been horribly lax about the children’s safety. Mamma and Burak are working to reinforce your security measures, but they’ll need some time. So until then, I think we should move all the children to a central location where you can protect us more easily.”

  Casa paused, considering the argument. Eventually the house said, “Yes … that is an excellent plan, signorina.”

  Porzia hid a smile. “Casa, it would be most helpful if you could bring a stack of blankets down to the dining hall, so we can sleep there in comfort. And the children will each need to pack a bag, if you don’t mind.”

  Again the house paused, but for a shorter time. “That is acceptable.”

  * * *

  In the morning, Porzia rose early from her improvised bed on the floor of the dining room. She instructed the house that everyone would be very hungry this morning and require a large breakfast, and then she moved among the sleeping forms, waking them one at a time. She began with those who did not need to be told to ready themselves—her mother, Faraz, Revan, and Burak. Then she moved on to her siblings and the others, each one of whom received a solemn stare from Porzia, which told them that serious matters were close at hand. Casa still had the youngest children sequestered in the nursery, and Porzia felt a pang of guilt at the thought of leaving them, but her mother was right: they needed to get as many people out as they could, before the house’s madness escalated.

  Without Porzia needing to ask, Revan and Sante began rolling up the blankets so they could be carried easily. The food train arrived with its little cars loaded to capacity with loaves of bread, wheels of cheese, bowls of fruit. The children went to the table and picked at the food, their eyes frequently darting up to watch Porzia or her mother.

  Mamma looked tired, dark circles under her eyes like bruises, but she also looked determined.

  Porzia moved to the signal scrambler and rested her hand casually atop the box. She made eye contact with Mamma a
nd raised her eyebrows to say Ready? Gia checked the time, conferred very quietly with Burak, and gave a nod for a reply. Porzia looked to the others, one by one; they all waited on her.

  Porzia flipped the switch and immediately began shouting commands. “Revan, block the door! Everyone else, grab your bags and pack up all the food! Quickly, now!”

  The room exploded into chaos, everyone rushing to follow her orders. Mamma came over to stand beside her, with Burak at her heels. Porzia lifted the scrambler and handed it to Burak to carry.

  To her mother, she said, “Stay safe. Casa’s going to be furious about this.”

  “We’ll disappear into the maintenance tunnels as soon as you’re all through the portal. With luck, it will take Casa a while to realize we’re still here.”

  “Don’t worry,” Burak said, “I have all the tunnels memorized.”

  Porzia smiled at him. “I don’t doubt it. Keep an eye on my mother for me, will you?”

  He nodded, puffed up with pride at the importance of his task.

  She gave Mamma a hurried embrace and bid them both goodbye. Turning, she whipped out Revan’s portal device, the coordinates already set, and flipped the switch. The table was nearly clean of food, the doors blocked with a chair wedged beneath the handles. The black hole of the portal yawned open, and Faraz went through first to organize the children on the other side. Then Porzia began waving them through one by one.

  She grabbed her own bag and glanced at Revan, but he was still at the doors with his ear pressed to the wood.

  “We’ve got a problem,” he shouted.

  Too slow, too slow, Porzia thought, practically shoving a boy through the portal. The children had picked up on the atmosphere of danger, and some of them were freezing with fear. The delay between one child and the next made the portal wink closed automatically, and she had to quickly reset the device and open the portal again.