Savino peered over her shoulder. His eyes widened. “Where’d you get this?”
“I found it in the duke’s papers,” Giacomo admitted.
“What is it?” Aaminah asked.
Savino snatched the parchment out of Milena’s hand. “Looks like instructions for creating a Tulpa.”
“What are you doing with it?” Aaminah asked Giacomo. Her sweet expression turned suspicious.
“Are you thinking of trying to make one?” Savino accused.
“I don’t know … I guess I thought it might come in handy…”
“Come in handy?” Milena huffed, her anger building. “The world’s in this mess because Ugalino thought it was a good idea to create a Tulpa. And now you want to build another?”
“This is why I didn’t tell any of you about it. I knew you wouldn’t understand.”
“You know what I do understand, Giacomo? That we’re hundreds of miles away from home, the people hired to protect us are all dead, and now I can’t even trust you!” Milena’s eyes burned with fury.
“I’m on your side,” Giacomo pleaded. “Nothing’s changed.”
“This,” Savino said, holding up the parchment, “changes everything.” He crumpled it in his clenched fist and marched over to the fire.
Giacomo hobbled over, putting himself between Savino and the flames. “Please, don’t. Not until we know what it really means. I saw Zanobius up close. He was so real. So … human.”
“It’s a Tulpa. It kills people.”
“I know he’s dangerous, but what if you could create one that wasn’t? What if you could make one that was kind and loving and caring?”
“You can’t, Giacomo…” Aaminah said, her voice shaking.
“Can’t what?” he snapped.
“Bring your parents back. You might think that’s a good idea, and believe me, there were times I would’ve done anything to see my mother again, but nothing good can come from messing around with Tulpas.”
Giacomo fell silent. He knew no argument would convince them that reviving his parents as Tulpas was a smart plan.
Savino shoved Giacomo aside, knocking him to the ground, then tossed the parchment into the flames.
“No!” Giacomo lunged for the fire, but Savino swung his leg and kicked him back to the dirt, pinning him down.
“Let it burn,” he said.
But before the fire completely consumed it, Milena stuck her hand in and rescued the burning parchment. She patted out the flames. “Giacomo’s right. We don’t know what this means yet.”
“It means more problems for us,” Savino argued. “Throw it back in the fire.”
“Or it might be a solution. A way to destroy Ugalino’s Tulpa, in case we don’t find all the Sacred Tools.”
Savino took his foot off Giacomo’s chest and got in Milena’s face. “You want to be responsible for it? Fine. But don’t let him get his hands on it again.” He pointed at Giacomo.
“I won’t.” Milena glared at Giacomo as she folded the parchment and tucked it in her bag.
Giacomo rose to his feet and dusted off his shirt, shaking with emotion. He was relieved Milena saved the parchment, but furious too. They were treating him like he was some kind of deranged person, as if he were no different from Ugalino. He turned away, avoiding their angry glares.
The uncomfortable silence was broken by Luna letting out a bloodcurdling screech, followed by a raspy, clicking noise.
“That doesn’t sound good,” Savino said ominously.
“It isn’t…” Aaminah’s eyes filled with fear. “Ugalino’s Genius must be close!”
“We need to get out of here,” Milena said. “Now!”
They frantically gathered their bags while Savino stamped out the fire. They headed for the mouth of the cave, but halfway down the tunnel, it split into three paths.
Savino stopped. “Milena, do you remember which one we came in?”
“The one on the right.” She paused. “I think?”
“No, it was the left one,” Aaminah said.
“You don’t remember how to get out of here?” Giacomo said, panicked.
“Sorry,” Savino said, “we were a little busy trying to make sure you weren’t dying. Maybe that was a mistake.”
After a brief debate, Savino and Milena decided to try the passageway in the middle. As they ran through the winding tunnel, Giacomo found himself holding his breath, expecting Ugalino and his Tulpa to appear around every turn.
17
ON THE TRAIL
Ciro dropped out of the sky and hurtled toward the earth, exhausted. Zanobius clutched the Genius’s feathers and braced for a rough landing.
They had been flying for hours, the landscape turning from green fields to gray stone. When they passed over a wide canyon full of giant pointed pillars, Ugalino called it Terra della Morte.
The Land of Death.
At the bottom of the canyon, Zanobius had spotted a zigzagging line of fallen pillars. Could four children really have survived such a harsh and deadly place?
Ugalino guided his Genius to land near the edge of the cliff. Ciro hit the ground hard and collapsed, dead tired. Zanobius and Ugalino walked over to a large patch of blood that had soaked into the dirt and was surrounded by numerous small footprints. The children appeared to have escaped the canyon, but at least one of them was badly hurt.
Kneeling, Ugalino touched the blood with his fingers. Still sticky. His eyes followed the trail of crimson, which headed toward a mountain range in the distance. They can’t be far.
Ugalino and Zanobius climbed back onto Ciro, and Ugalino urged his Genius on. Uttering a caw of protest, Ciro took to the air once again, but glided low over the land, which transitioned from endless piles of boulders to a lush forest with a river winding through it. Soon, Zizzola’s rolling hillsides returned. Zanobius was thankful to see so much green again.
Ugalino spotted something below. He steered Ciro toward the ground, where the Genius landed roughly, nearly jostling Zanobius off its back.
Ugalino slid off Ciro’s neck and headed down a slope toward a mossy hillside pocked with numerous entrances. He knelt and ran his hand across a rock, then held it up to Zanobius. The tips of his fingers were bloody.
They must have taken refuge here, Ugalino said. Since they’d left the Cave of Alessio, Ugalino hadn’t spoken directly to him, only in his mind. It was his way of punishing him—a reminder that his master’s voice should be the only one he listened to.
“Why won’t you speak to me out loud?” Zanobius complained. “Like normal people talk.”
His master ignored the question and continued mind-speaking. We’ll split up. You take that tunnel, I’ll take this one. Ugalino disappeared into the darkness.
Zanobius lumbered inside, where he discovered a maze of passageways. Every so often, the tunnel widened out into a grotto where stalagmites sprouted up between pools of water. Overhead, stalactites shot down like needles. Narrow beams of light pierced through openings in the stone walls.
Zanobius passed through six of these cavernous pockets, but other than some old animal bones, he found nothing—certainly no sign of Giacomo or his companions.
As he entered another passage, he spotted a faint glow up ahead. A fire crackled. He crept quietly, not wanting to startle the children. According to Enzio, they all had Geniuses. Probably not as powerful as Ugalino’s, but he still needed to be cautious.
When he got closer, he peered around the corner, but didn’t see anyone. A skinned squirrel cooked on a spit over the flames. Whoever had been there couldn’t have gone far. He took another step and immediately felt the pinch of steel against his throat.
“Come out. Slowly.” A man’s deep voice spoke to him from the shadows.
Zanobius inched out of the tunnel and raised all four hands.
The man emerged from a shadowy recess. His clothes and armor, or what was left of them, hung like rags. He was caked in blood and deep gashes ran up and down his arms and legs. His l
ong, messy hair was also matted with blood. A ragged scar ran down the side of his face, but it looked like a wound from years ago.
“I should run this blade through your throat right now,” the man threatened.
“Many have tried, all have failed,” Zanobius warned.
“You hunting those kids? The ones with the Geniuses?”
“Do you know where they are?”
“Tracked them here but they moved on, far as I can tell.”
The man held his gaze for a long time without pulling his blade away, like Zanobius was a riddle he was trying to solve. “You interrupted my dinner. How about you join me while I eat.” It wasn’t a question.
“All right,” Zanobius said.
They sat across from each other, the fire between them. Behind the man, the flickering flames cast looming shadows on the wall. With his left hand, the man held his sword, and with the other, he picked up the crispy squirrel carcass. He stuffed it in his mouth and swallowed nearly the entire thing in one bite.
“I’d offer you some,” he said through a mouthful of food, “but Tulpas don’t eat, isn’t that right?”
“Correct.” So the man knew something about him. Come to think of it, the man hadn’t seemed shocked by his appearance. At least, not the way most were when they encountered an eight-limbed man. A silence hung between them. The man kept chewing.
“What happened to you?” Zanobius finally asked.
“The Land of Death happened. Thought that was the end for old Ozo here. But I guess the Creator had other plans for me.” He spit a piece of squirrel bone into the fire. “Like finding you.”
There was that look again. A piercing stare, like he knew something Zanobius didn’t.
“How did you end up following those children through the Land of Death?” Zanobius asked.
“I was their escort,” Ozo corrected. “Someone paid me a whole lot to protect them.”
“But all the gold and silver impronta in the world won’t do you any good if you’re dead,” Zanobius pointed out, though he was aware that humans behaved recklessly when money was involved.
Ozo’s hand gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. “True. Greed will get a man only so far.”
Zanobius was confounded by Ozo’s behavior. Why hadn’t Ozo tried to kill him when he had the chance? Why the fireside chat? It was another way humans made no sense to him. They were always carrying around secrets, their words never conveying what they truly wanted to say.
Zanobius eyed Ozo’s hand on his sword. Waited for him to unsheathe it. But the man maintained his intense gaze, the hatred running deep. It was as if Zanobius’s presence had dredged up awful memories.
“Have we … met before?” As soon as Zanobius asked the question, Ozo’s eyes widened.
“You don’t remember?” The fire reflected in Ozo’s black pupils.
Zanobius frantically searched his memory, trying to figure out where he had met Ozo before, but he drew a blank. If he had to guess, the encounter hadn’t ended well.
“My master’s here too.” Zanobius didn’t need Ugalino’s help, but if Ozo knew he was outnumbered, maybe he’d back down. Zanobius was tired of leaving a trail of bodies in his wake. “If you can help us find Giacomo, I’m sure Ugalino would pay whatever you wanted.”
“You and your master are never getting near that kid, understand?”
“I don’t want any harm to come to him either.”
“So you’re a murderer and a liar.”
The blade came at him in a blur. Ozo had lunged over the fire, stabbing straight for the chest. Zanobius rolled left and the blade nicked his front right arm. When Ozo charged again, Zanobius used all four arms to pick him up off the ground. He shook him until his sword came loose, splashing into a pool.
He hurled Ozo into the wall with enough strength to knock him out, but not kill him. Ozo crumpled to the ground. He moaned, but didn’t move. The show of power would be enough to convince the man not to mess with him again.
Zanobius backed out of the grotto and found his way through the tunnels, eventually emerging outside. His master stood on an embankment with his back to Zanobius, looking toward a distant mountain range.
“They’ve moved on,” Zanobius said.
I know. I found tracks leading out of the tunnels and heading north. Ugalino walked to Ciro’s side. He spotted Zanobius’s wounded arm, which was in the process of healing. What happened?
“Cut myself on a stalagmite.”
I see. His master didn’t sound convinced, but he didn’t press Zanobius on the matter. We should be able to spot them from the sky. They can’t have traveled very far on foot.
Ugalino jumped onto Ciro’s neck and the Genius screeched its opposition.
“Maybe you should let Ciro rest a little longer,” Zanobius suggested.
He’s rested enough. Now we fly.
With great effort, the Genius ascended toward the clouds.
Though they had left the grotto behind, Zanobius couldn’t shake the feeling that he hadn’t seen the last of Ozo.
18
THE CREATOR’S HAND
Giacomo rushed across the grass, limping behind Savino, Milena, and Aaminah. Every few steps, he glanced back to see if Ugalino’s Genius had caught up to them, but there was no sign of Ciro yet. If they could stay ahead of Ugalino, they’d beat him to the Compass. But how had Ugalino even picked up their trail in the first place?
Thanks to Milena, they had found their way out of the grotto before Ugalino showed up. They had pushed through the night, with Giacomo needing to take breaks every hour to rest.
His legs burned. With each step he felt like his lungs were going to burst. Although Aaminah had brought him back to life, his body still needed time to heal. He stumbled more than once, but with the Compass so close, he ignored the pain and pressed forward. Mico chirped and circled his head, urging him on. As the morning fog burned off, they spotted jagged mountain peaks in the distance.
They ran up and down a rolling hill, splashed through a rocky riverbed, and dashed into a dense forest. The entire time, no one spoke a word to Giacomo, which was fine with him. He’d selfishly decided that finishing the mission was the most important thing right now. He couldn’t waste time worrying about his crumbling friendships.
Savino barreled out of the tree line and slowed to a jog. “We’re here!” he announced. Milena, Aaminah, and Giacomo emerged from the forest behind him. Giacomo huffed and puffed as he took in the sight before them. The land dipped into a valley dotted with trees, before rising again into a slope of dirt and gravel and erupting in a ridge of pointed, rocky peaks.
“The Abscondita Mountains,” Milena said. “The Compass has to be somewhere up there.”
Giacomo looked up. Assuming they could even scale the rocks, it would take days, maybe weeks, to search the entire mountain. They didn’t have that kind of time.
“If we had full-grown Geniuses, we could fly up there,” Savino muttered. Nero swooped from the sky, squawking in his ear, sounding annoyed. “What?” Savino replied. “It’s nothing personal.”
“We don’t need to climb up there,” Milena realized. “Our Geniuses can scout it out for us.” Gaia landed on her shoulder. “Fly to the mountains. Give us a squawk if you see any caves.”
“Or Compasses,” Savino added.
Gaia rose into the air, followed by Luna and Nero.
“Go on,” Giacomo told Mico. “Go with them.” Mico chirruped and took off. The Geniuses grew smaller and smaller as they flew away, until they were only colorful specks against the mountain range.
While their Geniuses searched, the group descended into the valley, then climbed the gravelly slope. Savino found a flat area at the base of a rocky wall where they rested and waited.
Milena unfolded the message they’d deciphered at the duke’s castle and read it again. “‘The Compass lies in a cave, shaped by the Creator’s hand, obscured by Alessio.’”
“Too bad it doesn’t tell us which cave it’s
lying in,” Savino said.
“Maybe we overlooked something,” Milena said, riffling through the rest of the parchments they’d taken from the castle. She tossed aside the grid of various lines and wavy patterns. “Guess we don’t need the cipher anymore.”
Giacomo watched as their Geniuses dove out of the sky and landed on the slope next to them. Mico hopped around, pecking at the pebbles, looking for a stray bug to eat.
“I guess that means you didn’t see anything useful?” Giacomo asked.
Mico chirped and went back to scavenging. The other three Geniuses huddled on a nearby rock.
“What a surprise,” Savino said, shaking his head. “Giacomo was wrong about the Compass before, and he’s wrong again.”
Giacomo looked to Aaminah for a nod of support, then to Milena, hoping she’d tell Savino he was out of line, but they both looked away. Still, he wasn’t ready to admit failure. They’d solved the coded message. He’d used the camera obscura to locate the true Compass. Everything pointed to its being here. So where is it?
“We never should’ve left Baldassare’s villa until we were absolutely sure where the Compass was,” Savino said.
“You’re the one who couldn’t wait to leave!” Giacomo reminded him.
“Because you told us you knew what you were doing!” Savino’s face burned red. “Now we’re stuck out here with a madman and his killing machine on our heels. We never should have taken you out of the aqueducts. Once a sewer-boy, always a sewer-boy.”
“Stop calling me that!” Giacomo threw himself at Savino, tackling him. They tumbled down the slope, head over heels, fists swinging. As they slid to a stop, Savino shoved Giacomo off him.
Giacomo pushed himself to his knees and spat out a mouthful of sand. Heat flushed through him and he started sweating. “I’m sorry I led you all the way out here and we have nothing to show for it!” he yelled. “And I’m truly sorry about all the lives we lost on the way, but I swear, if you call me sewer-boy one more time I am going to take you the rest of the way down this mountain with me!”
“All right, all right…” Savino said, relenting. “All you had to do was say something.”