Warrior Genius

  “There has to be another way,” Aaminah protested.

  “I had all the same reservations at first, but you don’t know Yaday like I do. I trust him, and I really think this plan will work.”

  “And what if it doesn’t?” Milena said. “What if Vrama takes control of you, and you turn around and attack us?”

  “That won’t happen,” Giacomo insisted.

  “If I had known this was the plan, I never would have agreed to come,” Milena said.

  “What else am I supposed to do?” Giacomo glanced over at Ajeet’s tent. “I promised to help the samraat and his people. I can’t give up on them now.”

  “We’re not asking you to,” Aaminah said, offering some reassurance. “But aren’t you scared?”

  “Terrified. That’s why I could really use your support.” Giacomo looked over his friends’ faces. “It’s like Yaday said, I need a calm mind to face Vrama. And if I know you’re all behind me, my mind will be a whole lot calmer.”

  “Of course we’re behind you,” Aaminah said, then looked at the others. “Right?”

  “It’s not like we can turn back now,” Savino grumbled. “Just be careful, okay?”

  “We’re stronger together than we are apart, isn’t that what Pietro told us?” Milena said, though she didn’t sound entirely convinced.

  It wasn’t the huge show of encouragement Giacomo longed for, but it was better than nothing.

  25

  PRISONERS

  Upon returning to Virenzia, Nerezza had put Enzio in the care of her Minister of Security, Rudolfo DeFabbrini. A gaunt man with a thin mustache, DeFabbrini was such a cunning interrogator he could persuade even the most rebellious prisoner to give up their own mother to the gallows, knowing she was innocent. If he couldn’t get Enzio to reveal Giacomo’s location, no one could.

  Each evening, Minister DeFabbrini updated Nerezza on Enzio’s mental state, but his report was always the same. “The boy still hasn’t talked.”

  Nerezza was surprised to learn Enzio’s will was so strong. He had lived a life of luxury with his mother and father in their villa, never wanting for anything. According to Minister Barrolo, Enzio was a sullen boy who had only become more so when Barrolo began taking in the other children and their Geniuses. Was Enzio’s hatred of his father so deep-seated that he was willing to die to protect Giacomo, a boy he barely knew?

  “You’ve kept him isolated this whole time?” Nerezza had asked DeFabbrini during his most recent visit, doing little to hide her impatience.

  “Of course, Your Eminence. His cell is completely dark. His only human contact has been with me and his guards.”

  Barrolo had pleaded with Nerezza to allow him to visit his son. It was a request she took great pleasure in refusing.

  “And his food and water intake has been limited?”

  A hint of annoyance crossed DeFabbrini’s face. “Yes, I’m following procedure.” Anticipating Nerezza’s next question, the minister added, “The sleep deprivation hasn’t broken him yet, but give it another few days. It will.”

  Nerezza didn’t have a few days. It had already been over two weeks since Giacomo fled into the portal to places unknown. He could be well on his way to finding the Straightedge by now. Assuming he didn’t already have it.

  “I’m going to pay our prisoner a visit,” Nerezza said.

  With DeFabbrini by her side, Nerezza made her way to the bowels of the palace, a place she hated visiting because of the stifling air and putrid odors. She ignored the moans and mad howling that echoed through the stony passageway.

  The guard unlocked the metal door to Enzio’s cell and opened it. Torchlight from the hall spilled into the room, where Nerezza found the boy much as she expected—in a grim state. He dangled in the center of the room, arms overhead, wrists shackled to the ceiling by two long chains. The way DeFabbrini had strung him up allowed Enzio’s feet to touch the floor, but it had made it impossible for him to sit or lie down. He was shirtless and covered in sweat. His pants drooped around his skinny waist.

  “Unchain him immediately,” Nerezza ordered, feigning outrage. Hopefully the act would be enough to convince Enzio she was his best chance at survival.

  The guards unlocked Enzio’s cuffs, and he collapsed with a pained groan.

  “Get him some food and water!” Nerezza howled, and the guards rushed off. She wheeled around on DeFabbrini. “This is how you’ve been treating our prisoner? Worse than you’d treat a sow? It’s disgraceful!”

  DeFabbrini stared back, putting on his best confused face. He muttered a weak protest, which Nerezza forcefully rejected. They’d performed this little act so many times over the years it had become second nature. DeFabbrini, the heartless tormentor, and Nerezza, the compassionate savior.

  The guards returned with a bowl of cold gruel and a goblet of water. Enzio devoured both instantly.

  “Leave us,” Nerezza ordered.

  “Are you sure, Your Eminence?” DeFabbrini said, according to script.

  “Now!” Nerezza bellowed. The minister and his guards hustled out the door.

  Nerezza leaned down and tipped Enzio’s haggard face to meet her gaze. “My sincerest apologies. This is no way for the son of a minister to be treated.”

  Enzio stared back with a glazed expression, like he wasn’t certain where he was. Dark circles hung under his half-lidded eyes. His skin was pale, his cheeks hollow.

  “I can get you out of here and into a comfortable room with some real, warm food,” Nerezza said in her gentlest voice. “All you need to do is tell me where Giacomo went.”

  Enzio let out a heavy exhale, and his head dropped. His shoulders shuddered as he let out stifled sobs. “Please…”

  “Yes, Enzio. I’m listening.” Finally, she thought.

  “Please…” Enzio looked up, and his blank expression became charged with emotion. “Get … out!”

  Nerezza jerked away, stunned by the boy’s defiance. “You’re a fool!” she spat back, then stormed out, slamming the door behind her with a clang.

  “Did he confess?” Minister DeFabbrini asked.

  Nerezza strode past him, her gown whooshing around her. “He will.”

  * * *

  She found Minister Xiomar in his study, a decrepit vault far away from the other ministers’ offices. It was overstuffed with ancient tomes, models of the heavens, and countless glass containers full of colored liquids, some bubbling over small flames.

  Xiomar looked up from his worktable, where he was placing one of the Ghiberti gems on a scale. Next to him, the other gem was clamped into a bizarre metal contraption.

  “Your Eminence, I wasn’t expecting you.” Xiomar shuffled out from behind the table. “The experiments are going well, but I’m afraid I’ll need more time.”

  “I’m not here about the gems,” Nerezza said. “I need some of the sacred brimstone you spoke of. Barrolo’s son is proving more strong-willed than I had expected.”

  “I see…” Xiomar opened a cabinet where he had stored racks of vials. He pulled one out, then siphoned its contents into a syringe with a long metal needle.

  Xiomar followed Nerezza back to the dungeon, and while the guards held Enzio still, Xiomar plunged the needle into Enzio’s arm. The boy gritted his teeth, then began thrashing against his chains.

  Nerezza offered Enzio her unspoken respect. He had resisted her longer than most. Even now, he was waging a valiant fight against the poison coursing through his veins. But defiance was no antidote. Before long, Enzio succumbed, and his body fell limp.

  “Now tell me, where is Giacomo?” Nerezza asked.

  “He … went to…” Enzio’s voice was ragged, breathless. He looked stunned that the words were coming out of him, as if his own mouth had betrayed him.

  When he uttered Giacomo’s location—“Rachana’s palace”—Nerezza wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly.

  “The samraat’s palace? Are you sure?”

  Enzio nodded weakly.

  No
doubt Pietro was the one who had taken the children to Rachana, but why? He had no allies there. And what did this mean for the Sacred Tools? Had Giacomo abandoned his search for them? Or had he located one of them in enemy lands?

  Just as she called Minister Strozzi to her chambers to begin preparations for an assault on Rachana, a guard barged in bearing surprising and fortunate news: Zanobius had been captured.

  * * *

  In the pirate ship’s dank hold, Zanobius crouched in a cage, his shackles digging into his wrists and ankles. Outside, the sky flashed and thunder roared. Waves and rain battered the hull. The ship groaned as it fought against the heaving sea. With each swell, Zanobius’s stomach lurched, and his metal prison clanged.

  To distract himself, Zanobius stayed mentally focused on the task ahead. He kept envisioning his arrival at Nerezza’s palace, being brought before her, her eyes bulging with fear as he broke from his prison …

  However, each time he tried to picture ending Nerezza, his imagination refused to cooperate, as if something deep inside was warning him not to go through with it.

  But so many have died at the Supreme Creator’s hands, Zanobius told himself. She deserves it.

  After several days, the churning sea finally calmed, and the sun returned. Through the porthole, Zanobius spied a sliver of green land. Soon, the red bricks of Virenzia’s outer wall came into view, and the pirate ship slipped into the bay, lurching to a stop at the dock.

  With a metallic scrape, the hatch opened, and sunlight spilled in. Zanobius craned his neck to find Captain Wolff staring down at him from the deck. “Hope you had a nice trip,” he said sardonically, then he turned and called out, “Bring up the prisoner!”

  One of the pirates cast down a thick rope with an iron hook and hitched it to the top of the cage. The crew used a rope-and-pulley system to hoist the cage onto the deck. It landed with a thunk, and Zanobius teetered inside.

  Wolff covered the cage with a piece of tattered sailcloth. Through rips in the canvas, Zanobius glimpsed the busy port, where two black-armored soldiers—one holding a sword, the other a spear—marched up the gangplank and confronted Captain Wolff.

  “What kind of cargo are you transporting?” the sword-wielding soldier demanded.

  “The dangerous kind,” Wolff said, then lowered his voice. “I’ve captured the Tulpa that the Supreme Creator’s lookin’ for. I’ve come to collect my reward.”

  * * *

  The pirates transferred Zanobius’s cage to a horse-drawn cart, then a convoy of soldiers escorted Wolff and his men through the city’s back alleys.

  When they reached the palace, the cart jerked to a stop. With a collective grunt, the pirates lifted the cage and began carrying it. Behind the sailcloth, Zanobius listened as the buzzing sounds of city life gave way to the hollow clomp of boots on stone.

  “Put him there,” someone ordered. The cage dropped with a clang.

  Zanobius spotted slivers of his surroundings: onyx marble columns, paintings of soldiers locked in battle, a black-robed figure hunched on the throne. He heard the heavy breathing of Nerezza’s Genius, Victoria.

  Zanobius readied himself.

  “Let me see him!” Nerezza’s shrill voice filled the chamber.

  With a whoosh, the canvas was pulled away. Zanobius squinted as his eyes adjusted to the bright light streaming in through the high windows. A face came into focus—wrinkled and worn. Two beady black eyes. Lips painted a harsh red.

  “It’s really you,” Nerezza said with a satisfied smile. “Welcome back to Virenzia, Zanobius.”

  Zanobius glanced around the room, looking for an opening to launch his attack, but all he found were obstacles. Dozens of soldiers filled the hall; in front of the dais loomed the robed figures of Nerezza’s Council, Baldassare Barrolo among them; Victoria lurked behind Nerezza’s throne.

  This was a reckless idea, he thought. Breaking free of his cage would be easy enough, but Zanobius hadn’t anticipated the number of people he’d have to contend with to get to Nerezza—people he didn’t want to harm.

  “We delivered the Tulpa,” Captain Wolff said, flanked by his crew. “Where’s our reward?”

  Nerezza turned to Captain Wolff. “It appears he’s missing an arm.”

  Wolff scowled. “Not our fault. It was already gone when we found him.”

  Zanobius was beginning to grow nervous. Nerezza knew full well that the pirates weren’t responsible for his injury.

  “Nevertheless, you can’t expect me to pay for damaged goods.”

  “You greedy, double-dealin’ scoundrel!” Wolff shouted.

  Nerezza nodded to her soldiers. “Show these ruffians out.”

  Wolff’s hand went to his sword’s hilt. “We’re not going anywhere until we get our—”

  Before Wolff could finish, Nerezza pulled a brush from her black robe and swiped. From the shadows, a streak of violet shot from Victoria’s crown, crashing into Wolff and propelling him down the length of the hall. His body slammed into the far wall and crumpled in a smoking heap.

  Wolff’s men raised their blades and charged; Nerezza’s soldiers leaped to her defense. With both sides clashing, Zanobius knew he wouldn’t get a better shot at Nerezza, so he snapped his shackles, bent an opening in the metal bars, and squeezed through. The Council members clambered behind the dais. “Your Eminence, follow us!” Baldassare shouted.

  But Nerezza didn’t flee. She locked her gaze on Zanobius, her eyes widening with a familiar expression, and Ugalino’s voice echoed in his mind.

  She knows she will never be able to create anything as magnificent as you.

  Zanobius charged through the throng of pirates and soldiers. Nerezza shuffled backward, brushing sharp strokes in his direction. He dodged Victoria’s first beam, then leaped over the second. But the third blasted Zanobius off his feet and launched him through the air. With a deafening crack, he crashed into a column and dropped to the floor. Shards of marble rained down around him.

  Zanobius groaned and staggered to his feet. Victoria crawled over the dais, her giant claws clacking on the floor. Nerezza waved her brush again, and Victoria roared.

  The light was blinding. Zanobius jumped out of the way and somersaulted, tumbling into another column. He ducked behind it, and an instant later, a blaze of violet exploded against the marble.

  Dust and smoke clogged the room, making it difficult to see more than a few feet in any direction. Zanobius spotted Nerezza’s silhouette through the haze and ran headlong at it. He reached out, grasping handfuls of velvet. Nerezza’s robe cinched around her bony frame as Zanobius lifted her off her feet. He batted her brush away and latched a hand around her throat.

  “Release me!” The air went out of Nerezza with a wheeze. She writhed in his grip. Somewhere in the hall, Victoria shrieked in pain.

  “You’re done terrorizing the world,” Zanobius said.

  But something inside him stayed his hand. He realized he had been waiting for Ugalino to give him the order to end Nerezza. But with his master gone, the choice to kill would have to come from Zanobius himself. As much as it pained him to admit it, he knew he couldn’t go through with it.

  Now, he had to get out of there. With a roar, Zanobius threw Nerezza to the floor and looked for the nearest door, but the way out was hidden by the haze. He picked a direction and headed that way. He didn’t get far.

  A stabbing pain shot through his upper back, and Zanobius was stopped in his tracks. He looked down, horrified to find the tip of one of Victoria’s talons poking from his chest. Gray fluid spilled everywhere.

  Victoria wrapped the rest of her claws around Zanobius and brought him close, studying him with her creepy yellow eyes, as if she was deciding whether to eat him whole or tear him into bits first. Not wanting to find out, Zanobius wrested one of his arms free and punched Victoria’s eye, which squelched on impact. In concert with Nerezza’s scream, the Genius screeched and reeled back, but her grip held. Victoria pinned Zanobius to the floor and bore down wi
th all her weight. Her maw snapped open, ready for the kill.

  Zanobius had been at the mercy of Nerezza and her Genius before. But this time when they blasted him into oblivion, there would be no one waiting to rebuild him, no waking up from this fight.

  This is truly the end.

  “Victoria, to me!” Nerezza climbed back to her feet. One of her own eyes was swelling from the injury Zanobius had inflicted on her Genius, but Nerezza retrieved her brush and held it.

  The Genius tilted her head toward her, unsure what to make of the command.

  “Release him!” Nerezza shouted. With a viscous sucking sound, Victoria pulled her claw out of Zanobius.

  Zanobius stumbled to his feet, but a spiral of light tangled around him, pinning his arms to his sides. With a wave of her brush, Nerezza suspended him above the floor.

  Baldassare and another Council member emerged from behind the dais. “What are you waiting for?” Baldassare shouted. “Destroy him!”

  Zanobius awaited his fate. With another stroke, Nerezza could obliterate him. But something had stayed her hand as well—though Zanobius doubted it was her conscience.

  “No, he’s more valuable to me in one piece,” Nerezza said, then turned to the second Council member. The ancient, hunchbacked man crept forward. “Are you still confident our plan will work, Minister Xiomar?”

  What plan? Zanobius began to panic. All this time, Zanobius had assumed Nerezza had wanted him captured alive so she could destroy him personally. Clearly, he had made a grave miscalculation.

  The hunchback edged closer, studying Zanobius with a look of curiosity and disgust. It reminded Zanobius of the way a human regards an insect before squashing it. Xiomar’s gaze pondered the space where Zanobius’s arm was missing.

  “Yes. I’ll take some measurements and you can begin at once,” the hunchback said. His breath smelled of death.

  26

  THE PRETA

  Late one afternoon, Ajeet and his caravan left behind the grasslands and crossed into a vast, rocky expanse. The sky turned gloomy, and the thickening haze choked the afternoon sun. The group forged through the volcanic wasteland until they arrived at the rim of an enormous crater. The journey to Vrama’s lair was finally nearing its end.