Ink, Iron, and Glass

by Gwendolyn Clare

  “You mean … like Elsa’s doorbook, except it reopens old portals instead of creating new ones. Did he find out about the doorbook somehow?” Faraz turned his confused frown upon Elsa.

  “No, he never saw it.” Elsa reluctantly added, “Though he may have inferred its existence from how freely we’ve been hopping around the continent.”

  Porzia’s hands found their usual position on her hips. “One way or another, he’s invented a way to follow us. The question is, will he follow us here?”

  Everyone looked at Leo. He’d been disturbingly quiet since they’d arrived back at Casa della Pazzia.

  “I … I don’t know,” Leo said, sounding shaken. “We have to go back to Nizza for Jumi, and he knows it. He may wait for us to come to him.”

  Anxiety roiled in Elsa’s gut, and she could not honestly say how much of it was for Leo and how much for herself. “I have some work to do, and fast. I’ll be in my study.” The editbook clutched in her arms, she took the stairs at a run.

  Behind her, Porzia was already planning for the worst. “Casa, set all monitoring systems to high alert. What’s the status of your defenses?”

  Elsa didn’t linger long enough to hear the house’s reply. Up in her rooms, she took a portal to her scribed laboratory. It was at best impossible and at worst extremely dangerous to make alterations to a worldbook while inside that same world, and she guessed the editbook worked the same way with Earth. She cleared a space on her workbench and threw herself into her chair. Sucking in a deep breath, she opened the cover with a combined feeling of reverence and dread.

  Inside, the paper tingled with anticipation beneath her touch, as if the editbook yearned to be used. The more she looked over the text, the more beautiful it seemed, and she marveled at Jumi’s ingenuity. Elsa could not help but admire her mother’s grand accomplishment. At the same time, she was terrified of how drawn she felt to the editbook, of her own insidious desire. Terrified that her mother had been capable of creating such an instrument of potential destruction—what need or hatred or desperation had led Jumi down this path?—and equally terrified that she herself might contain those same cold capabilities.

  Elsa hesitated, pulling her hands away from the pages like a guilty thief. But her beloved Veldana was in peril, cut off from Earth if not entirely destroyed. She needed to muster her courage. She needed to trust in herself.

  She flipped past the core text, which defined the nature of the book, giving it power to alter the real world. Toward the back she found a section describing the one small change Jumi had made; Elsa focused all her attention on that text, trying her best to ignore the flash flood of relief that threatened to carry her away as her suspicions were confirmed.

  The chamber inside the wall of Montaigne’s library, where the Veldana worldbook resided, was a scriptological addition to Earth. A tiny pocket universe, latched onto the real world like a barnacle to a whale’s hide. Which meant there was a chance—even a reasonable probability, Elsa dared to hope—that Veldana had survived, attached to Earth but unaffected by the fire, still there-but-not-there even now. Her heart fluttered against her ribs at the thought.

  Toward the end was an unfinished line of text. At the time of her abduction, Jumi had had the editbook open on her writing table … apparently with the intention of scribing access privileges for Elsa, so her daughter could also open the Veldana worldbook’s hiding place.

  Elsa’s throat stung with the pressure of unshed tears. Jumi might have hidden the editbook, but she entrusted Elsa with something even more precious to the both of them: the text of their own world. Jumi had meant to give Veldana to her daughter that very day in their cottage.

  Her hands unaccountably steady, Elsa took out a bottle of scriptological ink along with a pen. Her pulse quickened as she dipped the nib. The words must be chosen with the utmost care—specific enough that, in effect, only she would gain access privileges, yet vague enough that it could theoretically refer to someone other than Elsunani di Jumi da Veldana. It would be all too easy to accidentally render herself textual.

  Looking over Jumi’s half-finished work, she discerned her mother’s intent: change the permissions from the protector of Veldana to the protector of Veldana and his or her descendants. Elsa dipped her pen and cautiously completed her mother’s changes.

  She held her breath as the ink dried, irrationally afraid despite the confidence she had in her own work. But as the text settled in and the real world subtly altered, Elsa remained self-aware and free. She had not turned herself into another Simo. Letting out a sigh of relief, she set the pen aside.

  There. Now, no matter what happened when they confronted Leo’s father, at least she would be able to find out if Veldana had survived the fire. She did not dare to hope for it, but perhaps she and her mother would soon be returning home together.

  Elsa brought the editbook back to her real-world study, where she discovered that dawn had come and gone while she’d been working. She hurried into her bedroom to wash up. There, on the bed, the outfit Porzia had made for her was carefully laid out, and a little handmaid bot stood idle off to one side, waiting to help her change. She still felt resistant about the trousers, as if that one small detail would mean she’d turned her back entirely on the traditions of her people. But she had to admit her current dress was in need of changing—dirty and torn in a few places from her mishap with the chasm—and if recent experience was any indication, dresses weren’t the wisest choice of clothing to begin with.

  She quickly wriggled out of the old clothes with the bot’s help and scrubbed her hands and face at the basin. Then it was time for the gray trousers, linen shirt, leather bustier with all its attachments. She was buckling the tall boots when Leo knocked twice and let himself in.

  “Elsa, are you ready? We—” Leo’s eyes went wide as he took in her new outfit. “Wow, you look … uh…”

  “I’m not trying to look pretty,” Elsa interrupted, feeling acutely self-conscious about the trousers. “I’ve done just about all the running in skirts that one person can stand to do. Porzia’s right—it’s time I dress the part.”

  “I was only going to say that you look different. Good different. More like yourself.” His cheeks turned a little bit pink.

  Finished with the boots, Elsa scraped her damp palms against her thighs and stood. “You were about to say we need to talk about what we’re going to do. Right? Does that mean you don’t like Porzia’s plan?”

  Leo grimaced, as if his next words pained him. “Elsa … what if we just … gave my father what he wanted?”

  “We can’t,” Elsa said, looking away. “Jumi created the editbook. It’s a part of my inheritance. This book confers a great and terrible power, and if Garibaldi were to misuse that power, as he almost certainly would, I would be responsible.”

  Leo shook his head. “He was a madman long before you came along, Elsa. It isn’t your job to police his actions. You should take your mother and escape his sphere of influence while you still have the chance to.”

  She took a deep breath and let it out, wondering how to explain it to him. “I have always despised Earth and its people—mostly for their sense of superiority over Veldanese,” she began. “I resented the idea that because our world is scribed, it isn’t real. So when I came here, nothing mattered to me but Veldana, and I would have happily scorched the Earth in return for Jumi’s freedom and Veldana’s safety. But don’t you see? Protecting Veldana is a duty I claim for myself, not a task I am obliged to, for I did not scribe Veldana and neither did my mother. Protecting your world from the editbook is a responsibility I cannot shirk, because that is Jumi’s creation.”

  The conflict cleared from Leo’s expression, and he gazed at her with respect. He nodded once and said, “Of course you’re right.”

  “Good,” she said. “Now that that’s settled, let me just grab the book—”

  “Elsa, wait,” he said, stepping closer. “There’s … there’s something I have to tell you.”


  “Yes?” she breathed. His proximity was distracting. She could see the faint line between his drawn-together brows, and the way a tense muscle pulled at the corner of his mouth.

  His lips parted as if to speak, but the words caught in his throat, and instead of saying whatever it was he wanted to say he leaned in and kissed her. Cautiously at first, but when she reached for the back of his neck, his arms snuck around her waist and pulled her in. She closed her eyes and the world faded away to nothing but the heat of their bodies touching, like the void between portals, only warmer, infinitely warmer. And she smiled against his mouth, because it was funny that she’d just finished fastening all those buckles and laces, and now he’d have to unfasten them again.

  But Leo pulled away too soon for that, and he stared at her breathlessly. Up close in the light, his eyes had the color and depth of amber. “We have to … There’s no time, but I…” He looked away, raked a hand through his already mussed hair. “I needed you to know.”

  His other hand was still on her waist, and the warmth of his touch only worsened the temptation to fall back together like a pair of magnets. Softly, she said, “We need to go. They’ll be waiting on us.”

  Elsa pulled away, breaking contact, and busied herself with fetching the editbook from her study. Her hands were still shaking a little from the exhilaration of kissing Leo, and she laughed at herself. Who would have thought, Jumi da Veldana’s daughter quivering like a lovestruck girl? But then, perhaps it was time to acknowledge that her mother might not be the best authority on love.

  When they left her rooms to rejoin Porzia and Faraz, Leo hesitated in the hall. “What’s wrong?” she said over her shoulder.

  “Nothing,” he said. “Nothing. I’ll be down in a minute.”

  Elsa searched his face for clues, but his expression was well schooled. If something was bothering him, he chose to hide it. Reluctantly, she nodded, and carried the editbook downstairs alone.

  Porzia and Faraz were waiting in the foyer. Porzia cradled a little glass bottle of ink in her hands, and Faraz was attending to Skandar.

  Elsa joined them, the editbook propped against one hip. To Skandar and Faraz, she said, “What are you two doing?”

  Skandar raised its tentacles cheerfully in response to her attentions. It was holding five little vials of Faraz’s gooey sleeping potion.

  Elsa laughed. “Don’t drop those, or you’ll find yourself without your favorite perch.”

  The beast solemnly blinked its one enormous eye at her, as if to assure her of how seriously it took its new responsibilities. Elsa pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh again.

  Porzia seemed less amused. “Apparently we’re arming the tentacle monster now,” she said sourly. “Not that it’s going to solve our new problem.”

  Elsa knew what she meant. “Getting away when Aris can track our portals wherever we go.”

  Leo finally came down the stairs behind her, at which Porzia said, “Nice of you to join us. Now—what are we going to do about Aris?”

  Elsa said, “I’ve been thinking about that. Once we have Jumi, we can open a portal to my laboratory”—she took a deep breath, steeling herself for Porzia’s reaction—“and carry the laboratory worldbook through with us.”

  “Have you gone insane?” Porzia screeched. “That would sever our connection to Earth! We’d be stranded in your laboratory world with no way back.”

  “In theory, the doorbook should still be able to link back to Earth. The core text of the doorbook references Earth specifically, in a manner not unlike that of the editbook.”

  “In theory?” Leo said.

  “See? Aren’t qualifications just infuriating?” Elsa smirked at him. “In any case, we have to take the chance. If we port somewhere on Earth, Aris will be able to trace our destination. But if we wait off-world for a while, we can slip back undetected.”

  Leo frowned. “You think that’ll work?”

  “His device may be able to detect the energy signatures of portals, but they all look the same. He can find us only if he knows the precise time a portal opens, or if he keeps an eye on a particular location, like Casa della Pazzia. But we won’t be going there. We’ll be lost in the background noise of all the other scriptologists porting back to Earth.”

  Porzia pursed her lips thoughtfully. “We’ll have to hide the editbook somewhere before returning here.”

  Elsa nodded. “I was thinking of the old castle near Corniglia. It’s well hidden.” She paused. “If that’s all right with you, of course.”

  Porzia gave her a thin smile. “We don’t have the luxury of time. Let’s use the ruins for now, until we can come up with something more secure. I’ll grab the keys.”

  When everything they would need was collected together, they took a minute to shuffle the objects. One portal device was set for Nizza and the other for Elsa’s laboratory, and Porzia took the doorbook. Leo drew his rapier and held it at the ready. Elsa opened the editbook to the early pages—the most critical part of the core text—and Porzia pressed the bottle of ink into Elsa’s other hand.

  “Ready?” Porzia made eye contact with each of them in turn before flipping the switch on her portal device.

  Faraz and Leo stepped through first, with Elsa and Porzia quickly following. The portal opened directly into the room where Jumi was being kept. Elsa had only a second to absorb the scene—Jumi lying prone inside the machine, one guard leaning in the corner—before it started.

  “Skandar, quick—the guard,” Faraz urged.

  The beast launched into the air on a collision trajectory with the guard’s face. At the last moment, Skandar released one of the vials and angled sharply upward, skimming over the guard’s head with mere inches to spare. The vial, however, met its mark, shattering on contact to coat the guard in bluish ooze. He made a surprised noise and then collapsed, unconscious.

  The sound of a grown man hitting the floor was enough commotion to draw attention from the other room, but they were ready. Skandar hovered over the doorway and hit another two of Garibaldi’s highly trained ex-Carbonari guards with sleeping bombs dropped from above. The third person through the door—Aris—ducked to the side, narrowly missing his own dose of blue ooze. Aris, glowering up at Skandar, reached for his rapier, and at that point the beast had the good sense to retreat back to Faraz’s shoulder.

  “Don’t!” Leo said to his brother. His own rapier was already free of its sheath and aimed in Aris’s direction. “Leave it.”

  Aris released the hilt and held his hand open in a show of compliance, though he grinned as if the situation amused him.

  At last Garibaldi stormed through the door, nearly tripping over the prone forms of his men. “What in hell is going on here?”

  “Not a step closer,” Elsa said, holding up the clear glass bottle of scriptological ink. “Make one move, and I’ll ruin the editbook.”

  Garibaldi’s eyes widened, and Elsa let herself feel a grain of pleasure at surprising him. Whatever he’d expected they might try to do, he hadn’t considered this. “You wouldn’t,” he said.

  “Wouldn’t I?” Elsa shook the bottle menacingly. “Do you know me so well you can be sure?”

  “That book is your mother’s magnum opus, her greatest achievement, and you’ll throw it away?”

  “My mother,” Elsa said, “wouldn’t want her greatest achievement falling into the wrong hands.”

  “Disposing of the editbook in the wrong manner could damage the real world,” Garibaldi said with growing confidence. He took one step toward them.

  Elsa narrowed her eyes and added some steel to her voice. “What do I care for Earth? I am Veldanese. I’d burn your world to the ground if I had to.”

  Those words seemed to give Garibaldi some pause. She could see the indecision in his face as he considered the veracity of her performance. On her left, there was a click as Porzia flipped the switch and opened a portal to Elsa’s laboratory world.

  “I’ll have the code now, if you
please,” Elsa said.

  Garibaldi ground his teeth, but gave it to her. “Up down down, up down up.”

  Elsa held his gaze with her own as she said, “Faraz, if you would…?”

  In the periphery of her vision, she saw Faraz nod and move toward the stasis machine. He flipped the switches, and there was an audible click as the lid unlatched. “I think we’re good,” he said, checking Jumi’s vitals.

  “Get her through the portal,” Elsa told Faraz.

  The whole apparatus was on wheels, though it proved so heavy that Porzia had to throw her weight in, too. Together, the two of them wheeled her mother out of her field of view while Elsa and Leo stood facing Garibaldi.

  There was a scrape of wheels against the wood floor and a soft whoosh, and then Porzia and Faraz were through the portal with Jumi.

  Elsa allowed herself the luxury of a triumphant smile. “A pleasure doing business with you. Don’t expect to hear from us again.” Then she backstepped toward the portal, Leo following at her side.

  On the brink of the portal, Leo sheathed his rapier and turned to her, whispering, “Hand me the book.”

  “What?” she whispered back, holding on to the editbook.

  His hands moving almost too fast to see, he reached forward and neatly wrenched the book from her grasp.

  “What are you doing? We had a plan!” she hissed.

  “I’m sorry, Elsa,” he said, “but this was always the plan.”

  He grabbed her upper arm and shoved her, sending her flying backward. The cold of the portal hit her like water and swallowed her whole.

  Elsa fell out the other side, losing her footing and sprawling across the wood floor of her lab. The ink bottle flew from her grasp and shattered against the leg of a table. She scrambled to her feet, ready to lunge back through the portal, but it was already closing. “Ugh!”

  “Oh my God,” Porzia said, taking in the scene. “Where’s the editbook? Where’s Leo?”