Rebel Genius

by Michael Dante DiMartino

  “See … the thing is, I only found it last night. Or it found me. I’m still trying to figure out where it came from.”

  The three kids looked at one another, mouths slack.

  “You’ve only had your Genius for one day?” Milena asked.

  “That’s right.”

  She eyed him with suspicion. “And what were you doing when it showed up?”

  Last night’s chaos rushed through Giacomo’s memory—Lost Souls attacking him, his agonizing vision, his Genius appearing out of nowhere, nearly being captured by soldiers … Where to begin? He was better off keeping his story simple.

  “I was just walking down the street, minding my own business, and it flew up to me.”

  “What a steaming pile of horse manure. You’re hiding something.” Savino pointed an accusing finger.

  Aaminah spoke up. “All that matters is Giacomo and his Genius are connected. Who cares when he got it?”

  Milena sniffed the rank air. “How about we get him back to the villa and keep talking somewhere less … pungent.”

  “Fine by me.” Savino grabbed Giacomo’s arm and pulled him to his feet.

  Giacomo yanked his arm from Savino’s grip. “Why should I go with you? I’ve survived fine on my own this long.”

  Milena leaned in, looking serious. “You’re more than welcome to keep trying your luck down here, but if the Supreme Creator hears even a whisper that there’s a new Genius flying around, she’s going to have soldiers searching every nook and cranny of Virenzia, including the aqueducts. We’re offering you a chance to go somewhere safe, where the Supreme Creator can’t find you.”

  Giacomo stared at her skeptically, unable to imagine such a refuge actually existing.

  “Our teacher is amazing,” Aaminah added. “You’ll learn so much from him.”

  “A teacher?” Giacomo said, intrigued.

  “Assuming you’re worthy of being taught,” Savino piped up.

  “And you’ll get a hot bath and all the food you can eat,” Aaminah said. “Milena’s right, the best way to keep your Genius safe is to come with us.”

  A safe place with food and an art teacher? It almost sounded too good to be true. Which probably meant it was.

  “Thanks for the offer,” Giacomo said, turning away, “but I’m going to pass. I can take care of myself. Come on, uh … little Genius guy.” He tried to get his Genius to follow, but it ignored him and stayed cuddled next to Aaminah’s Genius in her nest of hair, cooing peacefully.

  “You need to come with me,” Giacomo said, scooping his Genius off Aaminah’s head.

  His Genius squawked and pecked his hand.

  “Ow!” Giacomo rubbed the aching spot.

  His Genius flew back to the hair nest.

  “He’s welcome to visit as long as he likes,” Aaminah said. “If I could have a whole Genius sanctuary in my hair, I would.”

  Giacomo had no doubt he could continue to survive on his own, but apparently his Genius had other ideas. The little guy had really taken a liking to Aaminah. Maybe he should follow his Genius’s instincts. Plus, washing all this grime off him would give him a welcome break from his own stench. He found himself fantasizing about a meal that didn’t consist of stale bread.

  “Fine. I’ll come,” he grumbled. “But the first sign of trouble, I’m gone.” He picked up his satchel and stuffed his sketchbook into it.

  “Smart choice, sewer-boy.” Savino intentionally bumped into Giacomo’s shoulder as he marched past. Nero let out a rattly squawk. Milena, Aaminah, and their Geniuses followed.

  As he trailed the others, Giacomo looked back at the dank alcove he’d called home for so long. With each step, it faded farther into the darkness.

  * * *

  A short time later, they emerged from a tunnel outside the city walls. Above the mountains, the faint glow of dawn rose to meet the stars, erasing them one by one.

  Savino scanned the area for soldiers and signaled the all clear. The children’s Geniuses flew up ahead, staying close to the hillside. Giacomo was relieved to see his Genius following their lead. Savino led the group up a steep slope that curved back and forth, the steps nothing more than grassy indentations.

  The dirt crumbled beneath Giacomo’s foot and he reeled backward. Luckily, Milena was behind him, holding out an arm to keep him steady.

  “And you thought you could take care of yourself,” she said with a slight smile.

  “I didn’t need your help,” Giacomo replied, pulling away. He’d been cut off from real human contact for so long her touch felt strange, but also comforting.

  Milena continued on as Giacomo took a short break. He looked down the enormous hill he’d just climbed. In all his years of living in Virenzia, he’d never seen the city from this high an angle.

  * * *

  By the time the sun peered over the mountains, they’d arrived at their destination, a two-story villa built on the hillside. Giacomo had often noticed the building from far below and always wondered who lived in it. Now walking in its shadow, he was overwhelmed by its size. Built from immense gray stones, the structure was as wide as an entire city block, its face lined with repeating archways and columns. Only the Supreme Creator’s palace was bigger.

  “You all live here?” Giacomo asked in disbelief.

  Savino shushed him and ducked behind a row of hedges. Giacomo walked behind, greenery to his right and a wall to his left. He didn’t see any sign of a door.

  Savino ran his hand along the wall, then pressed one of the stones. A portion of the wall retracted and slid open, revealing a secret passage.

  The blue gem on Savino’s Genius lit up, illuminating a stairway that spiraled down. As he was about to cross the threshold, Giacomo hesitated.

  “No turning back now,” Milena said, then gave him a gentle nudge.

  The stairs spilled out into a cavernous, shadowy cellar. Savino lit several candles. Their flames flickered, casting the children’s shadows on the walls.

  “Is this a joke?” Giacomo complained. “You take me from one underground hideout into another?”

  “At least this one doesn’t stink as bad,” Savino said.

  Giacomo couldn’t argue, but he stayed on his guard while he took a look around.

  Wooden barrels lined the wall to his right. To his left, several empty bottles of wine were tucked between the cushions on a worn bench. In the center of the room stood two easels and a long worktable. Half-finished sculptures sat on it, along with numerous brushes, pencils, pieces of chalk and charcoal, and stacks of paper. His Genius darted through the room, chirping excitedly. Giacomo’s mind raced with the possibilities of the drawings he could make.

  Savino opened his cloak and unbuckled a belt that held sculpting tools. He threw it on the table with a clunk.

  Giacomo leaned in to get a closer look at one of the sculptures—a bust resembling Savino. He could see fingerprints where Savino had pressed holes for eye sockets and shaped the angular nose. “Self-portrait?”

  Savino’s frown matched the one in clay. “Obviously. What about it?”

  Giacomo rolled his eyes. I can’t win with him.

  On a nearby table, Milena tidied up an arrangement of grapes in a basket and a wine bottle with a melted candle sticking out the top. “Savino, did you take the skull?” she called out.

  “What skull?” he said.

  “The human skull that was sitting right next to the grapes.”

  Milena’s painting sat on an easel in front of the still life. Other than the skull that was missing from the table, the two scenes were indistinguishable. Milena’s technique was so perfect and flawless, her paint strokes were only visible up close.

  “Why do you always blame me when something goes missing?” Savino said.

  “Because you’re usually responsible,” she jabbed back. She caught Giacomo inspecting her painting and spun the easel away from him. “It’s not done yet.”

  “It looks amazing,” Giacomo complimented her. “I’ve alw
ays wanted to learn how to paint. Think you could show me sometime?”

  Before she could answer, a gravelly voice spoke from the darkness. “So you found him, did you?”

  Aaminah skipped across the room. “You were right, Pietro! Once we were down in the city, my Genius led us right to him.”

  It took Giacomo a second to process the name Aaminah spoke. His heart raced. “Did you just say his name was Pietro?”

  “She did,” the gravelly voice answered. Out of the shadows shuffled a hunched man carrying a wooden cane. He had a long gray beard and scraggly hair that ringed his bald-on-top, wrinkly head. “And what’s your name?”

  “Giacomo,” he said nervously. “Giacomo Ghiberti. But you can’t be the actual Pietro Vasari, can you?”

  “And why in the world not?”

  “Because you’re … dead.”

  Pietro chuckled. “Sure, that’s what Nerezza has taught you to believe. Yet here I stand before you, still drawing breath.”

  It felt like the old man had slapped him across the face. How was it possible that all this time, his idol was living right up the hill from him? “How … How are you here?”

  “By the good graces of the Creator, just like you.” As Pietro stepped into the candlelight, Giacomo noticed the man stared straight ahead. His pupils were covered in a foggy haze.

  “You’re blind,” he realized.

  Pietro touched Giacomo’s face. His fingers felt like pieces of bark.

  “And you’re old.” Pietro sounded dismayed.

  “Old? I’m twelve.”

  “And he’s only had his Genius for a day,” Savino added snidely.

  Pietro stroked his long beard and furrowed his brow in concern. “I see…”

  Giacomo’s Genius let out an intense, shrill whistle. “What’s wrong?” he called, rushing from the main room into another section of the cellar.

  Giacomo stopped short as he came upon his Genius hovering before a wide arched recess in the wall. Inside, a gnarled black beak poked out from a hulking mass of blue and gray feathers. A square orange gem glowed dimly from a crown, highlighting the creature’s giant, round head; long, flowing wings; and claws as thick as tree branches.

  “That’s … that’s your Genius,” Giacomo whispered.

  “His name’s Tito,” Pietro said, shuffling up to him. “And he’s very friendly, just a bit wary of newcomers.”

  Tito stuck his head out of the alcove and let out a slow, deep-pitched hoot. Giacomo stepped back, startled. His Genius ducked behind him. Tito lifted his claw and scratched his neck, shedding dozens of feathers in the process. On his body were empty patches where his plumage had molted, resembling Pietro’s bald head. And where his eyes should have been were two gaping holes. Giacomo thought back to how he had felt pain when his Genius was hurt. Had Pietro’s blindness been caused by someone taking Tito’s eyes? The idea sent shivers through him.

  Heavy footsteps stomped down a second set of stairs. Giacomo followed Pietro back to the main room, where a pink-cheeked man with pursed lips and a brown bushy beard strolled in. He wore puffy-sleeved silk nightclothes that were cinched under his enormous round belly.

  “Where have you three been?” he bellowed at Aaminah, Milena, and Savino. “And don’t pretend you’ve been down here all night. Enzio just told me he saw you coming back from the city.” The rotund man eyed Giacomo suspiciously. “And who might you be?”

  “Settle down and relax.” Pietro’s cane clacked across the floor until it touched a table holding bottles of red wine. He felt for a glass and filled it. He passed it to the man, who despite the early hour took a healthy swig. “I sent them out because Tito sensed there was a new Genius in the city. He was right again. Meet Giacomo Ghiberti and … What is your Genius’s name?”

  “He doesn’t have one yet,” Giacomo answered sheepishly.

  His Genius flitted around the portly man’s head, as if it knew to put on a good show. The man’s irate expression washed away, replaced by a smile so big it threatened to burst his plump cheeks.

  “Another Genius in our midst? How wonderful!” The man clapped Giacomo hard on the back. “Welcome, young man. I am Signor Baldassare Barrolo, proud patron of the arts and owner of this villa. Whatever you need will be provided. My home is your home.”

  “Thank you,” Giacomo said.

  “There is a slight problem,” Pietro said. “Concerning Giacomo’s age? He only recently connected with his Genius. I’m not sure what I’ll be able to do with him.”

  Giacomo was annoyed that Pietro had brought up his age again. So what if he had just gotten his Genius? He’d work hard to catch up to the others.

  Baldassare noticed the frown on Giacomo’s face. “Being a late bloomer is hardly something to worry about.” He patted Giacomo’s shoulder reassuringly. “We’ll get you up to speed. Now, what do you say to a delicious breakfast? I imagine you must be famished.”

  Giacomo’s stomach rumbled, responding before he could. He smiled. “You imagined right, signor.”

  Baldassare ushered Giacomo toward the stairs, but after getting a whiff of him, added, “First, how about a nice hot bath?”

  Before they headed up, Baldassare pulled a small whistle from his pocket and blew into it, creating a flutter of high-pitched notes, similar to a birdcall. The Geniuses perked up and flocked around Baldassare, who held out a handful of dried fruit that they ate from his palm. Giacomo’s Genius dove into the throng, eagerly devouring its share.

  “Looks like your Genius will be right at home,” Baldassare said.

  * * *

  Once everyone emerged from the stairwell, Baldassare shut the door, which was actually a large painting framed in gold. Giacomo wondered how many other secret passages Signor Barrolo was hiding in his villa’s walls.

  As the painting hinged closed, Supreme Creator Nerezza’s giant face swung into view. Giacomo jumped back and that was when he noticed the long hall was lined with the flag of the Zizzolan Empire—the same black and white triangles that hung from the Supreme Creator’s palace.

  Giacomo clutched his Genius close and backed away. “I knew I shouldn’t have trusted you!” he wailed at the other children, then directed his rage at Baldassare: “What is this place? Who are you really?”

  “Like I told you, my name is Baldassare Barrolo.” He paused. “And I’m one of the Supreme Creator’s Council of Ten.”

  Giacomo turned and ran down the hall.

  “Wait!” Milena shouted. “It’s not what you think!”

  Artwork after artwork depicting Zizzola’s leader whizzed past: portraits, marble busts, tapestries. Any minute, he expected the real thing to appear and snatch his Genius from his arms.

  “Giacomo, stop!” Pietro’s voice was strong and commanding.

  Against his better judgment, Giacomo did as he was told. He whirled around, still flushed with panic.

  “My Genius and I have been here seventeen years and never been found,” Pietro assured him.

  “How do I know you’re not working for the Supreme Creator too?” Giacomo said.

  “Pfft,” Savino huffed. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  Baldassare clapped his palms together, like he was giving thanks to the Creator. “I understand how unsettling all this is. But you are absolutely safe here. And Pietro is on your side, I promise.”

  Aaminah backed him up. “If it hadn’t been for Signor Barrolo’s protection, our Geniuses probably would have been taken away a long time ago.”

  “I live in two worlds,” Baldassare explained. “When I’m not serving as Supreme Creator Nerezza’s loyal Minister of Culture, I find and collect art from the black market, protect Geniuses, and work tirelessly to foster a revolution that will one day depose Nerezza and her ilk.”

  Giacomo thought Baldassare’s story sounded genuine, and the fact that the other Geniuses were alive and well seemed to back up his claim, but something still didn’t feel right.

  “Then what’s with all this
?” Giacomo said, gesturing to the art and flags on either side of him.

  “I have to keep up appearances,” Baldassare stated. “If anyone suspected I wasn’t loyal to the Supreme Creator, she would raze this place to the ground, and destroy everyone in it.”

  “After you’ve lived here awhile, you don’t really notice them anymore,” Aaminah said.

  “I hope so,” Giacomo muttered, then walked sheepishly back to the group, embarrassed by his outburst. Maybe he’d overreacted. Obviously Geniuses were safe here and Baldassare’s explanation of why he had the flags made perfect sense. He opened his hands, freeing his Genius. Wings aflutter, it took to the air, gliding down the hall. Giacomo peered up at Baldassare. “Sorry I bolted like that.”

  Baldassare gave him a warm smile. “It’s quite all right. I know it’s a lot to take in.”

  The tour of Signor Barrolo’s villa left Giacomo speechless. The place oozed luxury. He walked across marble floors as reflective as mirrors, past rooms the size of entire houses, and under stone archways carved with intricate patterns. Giacomo made sure to keep his distance from the upholstered chairs, cushioned benches, cabinets, and tables; he feared if he accidentally touched anything, one of his many layers of filth would rub off and tarnish it.

  At the bottom of a wide stairway stood a tall, thin woman in an elegant purple robe. She smiled at them as Baldassare gave her a peck on the cheek.

  “Good morning, dear. I want you to meet our new artist-in-residence, Giacomo. Giacomo, this is my wife, Fabiana.”

  “Nice to meet you, signora,” Giacomo said.

  “He needs a bath,” Baldassare told his wife. “The hotter the better.”

  “Of course, dear,” Fabiana replied. “Lovely to meet you, Giacomo. Right this way.”

  She led him to an outdoor bathhouse with a round wooden tub. Through the open ceiling, puffy clouds floated across the sky. Fabiana filled the tub with steaming water from a cauldron over the fire, then handed Giacomo a towel, along with a fresh dark red tunic, a black leather belt, and brown pants. “My son outgrew these a while ago, but they should fit you perfectly,” she said with a kindness that reminded Giacomo of his mother.