The Celestial Globe

  The prince stood, white with anger. “Then I shall find her myself.” He stalked out of the chamber.

  When he was gone, Queen Elizabeth pursed her lips. “The performance is over,” she told her council. “You may leave.”

  They stood.

  “Dee,” she called. “Stay.”

  He approached the throne. The last councillor to leave, Walsingham, threw a glance at them before the doors shut behind him.

  “Well?” she asked.

  “I am pleased and grateful, of course,” said Dee.

  “But?”

  He murmured, “You did not need to offend the prince.”

  “Indeed. However, to do so amused me a great deal. Now, do you have any news of the Celestial Globe?”

  “Soon, Your Majesty. Soon.”

  • • •

  THAT AFTERNOON, Petra seemed different. Perhaps it was Dee’s imagination, but she appeared to glow . . . with happiness? Yes, he thought so. He allowed himself to hope that she had grown used to life at Throgmorton Street. After all, this was now her home.

  Before he could begin their lesson, she asked, “What kind of person would always carry quicksilver?”

  Dee was not easily startled, but he was now. He considered. It was best to tell her the truth. She could learn the answer from another source . . . Dee regretted ever having hired Christopher. That had been a bad idea. But where Petra Kronos was concerned, Dee so often made mistakes.

  She was waiting, her eyes narrowed.

  Dee reached into a pocket and drew out a small vial. He shook it and the silvery liquid inside. “Anyone who spies for the queen carries this, in case of capture and torture. A spy would rather drink quicksilver than tell Her Majesty’s secrets. But, my dear, before you accuse me of Thorn’s murder, I would like you to take notice that my vial is still full.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You could have filled it up again.”

  “True,” he acknowledged. He decided to let her make the next move.

  Again, she did something unexpected. She approached him and, with a humility that really didn’t suit her, said, “I think there’s something strange about the coin we found at Sutton Hoo. Would you look at it, please?” She held it out to him.

  He took it. He should have thought twice about how friendly she suddenly seemed, but he inspected the golden coin because he was curious. Because he was also thorough, he took his time.

  A peace settled over him, like that feeling just before sleep.

  His head snapped up. He saw Petra staring at him with great intensity, and even though Dee knew that this would be yet one more mistake, he laughed.

  He tossed the coin, and she snatched it out of the air, looking infuriated.

  “Clever girl.” Dee wagged a finger. “Where did you learn that? Not from just anywhere, I imagine. But even if you discovered the fact of tricking me into looking at an object that gleams, how would you know the process of breaking the mental link? Very few people could teach you that. Or are you improvising? You are, aren’t you?” He added, “How proud you make me.”

  That did it. She spun on her heel and slammed the library door on her way out.

  A VISITOR entered Prince Rodolfo’s residence in London. He joined the prince for dinner, which was delicious and prepared with imaginative flair.

  Prince Rodolfo patted his lips with a napkin. “So you still have not found the Celestial Globe, in spite of having killed Gabriel Thorn and Robert Cotton.”

  “I will, Your Highness. I just need more time. It must be somewhere in Cotton’s manor. Please—”

  “Stop. It hurts my ears when you whine. If you have made no progress on the globe, which is the least you could do for the enormous sum of money I have given you, then let us discuss Petra Kronos. We know where she is, but she has to be taken without giving Queen Elizabeth any cause to take offense.”

  “Of course, Your Highness,” said Francis Walsingham. “I have a plan.”

  28

  Help

  WHERE ARE YOU going, Petra?”

  “Just take a look at her, Meggie. She’s dressed in those wretched trousers and she’s got a glint in her eye. Her clothes are dark, like she’s planning some nighttime stealthiness. She is so up to something.”

  “Madinia, be quiet! Let her answer.”

  “Why? It’s obvious. See that?” Madinia pointed at Petra’s face. “That’s new.”

  “What is?”

  “Her expression. She looks hopeful. She’s figured out a way to leave London without us having to chase after her through a Rift. Do you think she’ll outsmart Dad? I’d like to see that.”

  “Me, too,” said Margaret.

  “You would?” Petra let her hand fall from the garden door. She turned to the sisters. “But I asked you to bring me back to Bohemia, and you refused.”

  “Well, yes.” Margaret shifted uncomfortably. “Dad had warned that you would ask. He told us not to listen, and we agreed. He’s our father, after all.”

  “Plus, once we got to know you, we wanted you to stay,” Madinia added.

  This surprised Petra. “Why?”

  “We like you,” said Margaret. “You’re smart. And brave. You went down into the grave at Sutton Hoo. I’d never do that.”

  “Of course, you are also a little cranky,” said Madinia.

  “Which is understandable”—Margaret elbowed her twin—“given the circumstances.”

  “But you’re strong,” Madinia continued. “If I were in your shoes, I’d be a whiny, weepy puddle of a person, and you’re not.”

  “Maybe we could help you go home,” Margaret offered, “without actually disobeying our father.”

  “He only told us not to create a Rift to Bohemia for you. But we could be useful in other ways, if you let us in on the plan that you clearly have.”

  Petra studied them. Their faces shone with affection and . . . yes, admiration. How could that be? Petra had done so little to earn it, she felt. She had always thought of the girls as obstacles, but now she remembered Margaret’s acts of kindness, Madinia’s energy, and their readiness to treat her like a sister. They seem genuine, Petra said to Astrophil.

  But he was a spider who knew his priorities, and at the top of his list was Petra. Seeming to tell the truth and actually doing it are two very different things. You cannot trust them. The sun is setting. It is time to meet Tomik and Neel. Stay silent, and leave this house.

  “I’m sorry,” Petra told the sisters, and stepped into the garden, knowing without looking back that Madinia would be crestfallen, and that Margaret would have been expecting Petra’s response all along.

  She didn’t get very far down the street before she heard a set of running footsteps behind her.

  “Wait!” someone called. It was Kit.

  Hurt snaked through Petra. It stung, bit, and gnawed. A week had gone by since Dee had dismissed him, and Kit hadn’t even bothered to visit. He had ignored her. Well, she could do that, too. She kept walking.

  “Petra, please.” He stood in front of her.

  She sidestepped him, but not before she saw that he was dressed much like she. His clothes were black, and he was armed with a short sword that looked good for using in close quarters, like the narrow hallway of a house. Petra carried a sword as well, even if no one could see it.

  Kit blocked her path again, and Petra’s temper flared. She placed a hand on her father’s invisible rapier, which she wore for the first time in months. But she did not draw the sword—because she did not want to reveal its existence, because she thought that any swordfight with Kit would result in her quick defeat, and mostly because she was not sure she really wanted to start a duel.

  “I spoke with Jessie,” Petra accused. “I know what she told you, and you kept it from me!”

  “Yes, I should be proud of that. I’m making leaps and bounds in my ability to keep certain things secret.” His tone was joking, but nervous. “Please don’t walk away, Petra. Listen to me. I didn’t want to tell you
what Jessie said without understanding first what it meant. What good would a fragment of information do you? I did some investigating. Remember that title page of the travel book by Gerard Mercator? It turns out that Thorn had discovered that Robert Cotton owned something called the Celestial Globe, which was made by Mercator—”

  “I know all about that,” Petra cut him off. “It turns out that a fragment of information does me lots of good. So if you don’t have anything worthwhile to say, get out of my way.”

  He took a step closer. “I’m sorry, Petra, and I’ve missed you every day for the last week. Why do you think I’m here now, not twenty feet from Dee’s house? Dee forbade me to see you. He could destroy me easily. You know that. He’d sweep the pieces of what’s left of my miserable career under a dusty rug, and he took care to remind me of that when he said I’d no longer be needed at Throgmorton Street. You’ve seen what part of town I live in. Do you think I can afford to disobey John Dee? How would I eat if I could no longer earn what little I do by teaching swordplay?

  “I’m not rich, and I’m not even wise, because even though I knew I should, I couldn’t stay away from you for long. I had to tell you everything I had learned. I arrived just after you left Dee’s house, and found Madinia and Margaret in the garden. They told me which direction you had taken.” He looked at her searchingly, then dared to continue. “Do you still have that title page? With you?”

  Hesitantly, Petra nodded.

  “Good,” said Kit. “I was wrong to think it wasn’t important, but then, I’ve been wrong about many things. Though never about you.”

  “Why did you change your mind about the title page?”

  “Because we’re going to sneak into the home of Robert Cotton.” Kit’s eyes burned with excitement. “That title page might be connected to the globe, and the globe might be connected to the murders. Little is certain, but the one thing I know absolutely is that we have to explore every possibility of getting to the bottom of Thorn’s death. I want you to win your wager with Dee. I want you to be free, Petra.”

  His fingers lifted to touch her cheek.

  “NO.” TOMIK SHOOK HIS HEAD.

  “No way,” agreed Neel. “He ain’t tagging along. We don’t know him. Also—and I’m just mentioning this by way of pointing out how little you’ve told us about this fellow, Pet—we were under the impression that Kit was a she. What kind of girly name is Kit? Makes me think of kittens. And I can’t stand kittens, what with their needle claws and mewing—”

  “What Neel’s saying is: we don’t trust him,” Tomik interjected.

  “You stole my purse, and I trusted you,” Petra told Neel.

  He spread his arms wide. “That’s different!”

  “I don’t see how,” she replied. “Kit says someone has set up guards on Cotton’s land, but he knows them. He can get us inside.”

  Kit stood in Neel and Tomik’s room at the Spoked Wheel, looking bewildered as the three friends argued in Czech. “What’s going on?” he asked Petra in his own tongue.

  “You’re coming with us to Cotton’s house,” she told him.

  “If he gets to go, so do we!” came an indignant cry from behind the closed door. It flung open, and there stood Madinia, with Margaret right behind her.

  “Who are they?” Tomik was exasperated.

  “Who is he?” Madinia gazed at him hungrily. “Is he speaking Czech, Petra? Will you teach me?”

  “What are you doing here?” Petra asked them.

  “We followed you,” Margaret said, stating the obvious.

  “If you haven’t forgotten, we have certain magical talents,” Madinia added, “that would be great for breaking into houses, as it sounds like you’re planning on doing. We’ve been to Cotton’s home before, with our parents, for some draggingly dull dinner, but Meggie and I snuck upstairs to the bedrooms, and I swear the curtains are out of fashion by about a hundred years, which should be against the law—”

  Margaret interrupted, “Madinia’s trying to say that we’re going to help you, Petra, whether you like it or not.”

  29

  The Greenhouse

  TOMIK CROUCHED under the whispering trees of Robert Cotton’s estate. “Why do I let Petra talk me into things I know are stupid?”

  Neel thought it best not to answer that question.

  Half an hour earlier, as the six of them rowed up the moonlit river toward the grand manors stretched along the Thames, Petra had suggested they split into three groups and enter Cotton’s house at as many points. “We’ll have to spread out. Maybe we’ll be able to find the globe for Neel, but we’ve no idea how or where, and we don’t know what kind of clues we might find about the deaths of Thorn and Cotton.”

  “Our father didn’t do it,” interrupted Margaret. “I don’t care what you think.”

  Petra continued as if she hadn’t heard. “So we need to cover as much ground as possible. Each group will explore a different area of the mansion.”

  Neel had quickly agreed, adding that a dimwit would know that there’s no use trying to snoop around in a group of six. “Even two-by-two might be too noisy,” he said, leveling a meaningful look at Madinia.

  Tomik pulled at the oars of the Pacolet’s launch, which they had taken from its dock at Oyster Wharf. He was willing to go along with Petra’s plan as long as he was her partner.

  But she had had other ideas. “We’ll pair off like this: Madinia and Margaret, Tomik and Neel, Kit and me.”

  Tomik immediately objected.

  “It makes sense,” Petra argued. “We don’t even all speak the same language! And this way, each pair has somebody who can break into the house: Madinia can open a Rift, Neel can pick a lock, and Kit can talk his way past any guards.”

  “ ‘It makes sense,’ ” Tomik mimicked Petra now as he and Neel moved over the wet grass. “Just like running off to Prague without me last year made sense.” Tomik stepped into a particularly soft patch of earth and glared at the mud on his shoe. “Ugh.”

  “Hey, Tom,” said Neel. “Know what I like about mud? It’s quiet.”

  Tomik gave him a sour look but didn’t say anything after that—not when they followed the trees’ shadows to the back of the looming house, not when Neel slipped his ghost fingers into the lock of the servants’ door, and not when they finally stepped inside the cavernous home of Sir Robert Cotton.

  “WELL, THAT WAS EASY,” said Madinia when she and her sister entered one of the many bedchambers on the second floor. Most of the rooms had never been used, except by book collectors and scholars who had visited Cotton over the years—and a Moroccan merchant who had purchased a particularly lovely globe for next to nothing in a Sallay market. But Madinia and Margaret didn’t know this, and they didn’t know that Cotton had gladly paid a small fortune for the globe. When the merchant took leave of Cotton’s hospitality, both men thought that they had cheated the other.

  “Aren’t you going to close that?” Madinia pointed at the Rift.

  “No.” Margaret swallowed nervously. “We’d better leave it open. Just in case.”

  • • •

  KIT AND PETRA walked right up to the front door, which faced the river.

  “It’s unlocked.” Kit opened the door. “That’s lucky.”

  “I thought you said there would be guards.”

  “It seems I was misinformed.”

  “Kit . . . why don’t you know who hired the guards?”

  He blinked at her in confusion. “But there aren’t any.”

  “But you said there were, and that you would probably know them and they would let you in, just like the guards always do at Whitehall Palace for balls. How is it possible that you would know the guards but not know who hired them?”

  “Spies don’t always get the whole story. We take the information we can get.”

  Petra looked over the threshold into the empty, dark house and suddenly wondered if her plan to split into pairs was a really bad one.

  “Petra, the moonlight’
s clear enough for me to see the suspicion on your face. Have some faith in me, because if you don’t, I’m not sure who else will. I swear that I would never let any harm come to you.” Kit stepped into the house and drew her toward him.

  Let’s leave, Petra, Astrophil said. We shall turn around, and try to find the others.

  “Kit, I—”

  “Is this any time to argue? Your friends are probably already inside the manor. They’re expecting you to do your part. After all, they came here because of you.”

  When he said that, the decision was easy. Petra slipped inside.

  “TREB AND ANDRAS aren’t going to thank you for not telling them about this,” Tomik muttered. Moonlight glowed through the windows, illuminating huge laundry tubs.

  “I want to surprise them with that starry globe. Treb said some things to me once in the Pacolet pantry that he’s going to regret.”

  “Just don’t forget why we’re here. Our first priority is to help Petra win her wager. The globe comes second.”

  “No,” said a new voice from a dark corner. “It comes first, just like I do.” Prince Rodolfo stepped into the moonlight, and guards filed into the laundry room.

  Tomik had never seen his country’s prince, and did not recognize him, but no one needed to tell Tomik that the appearance of this young, elegantly dressed man meant trouble. He drew his glass knife.

  Neel muttered, “I don’t think that’s going to help.”

  “Is this the Gypsy?” A bright smile broke across the prince’s face. “Forgive me, I did not see you at first. Your skin is so brown—not a pleasant color at all—that you blended right into the shadows. But now I know you are here. Yes, the smell is really unmistakable. The stink is even familiar to me, since so many of your kind are currently rotting in my dungeons. Now, you must be Petra Kronos’s Gypsy. The one who so impolitely rifled through my Cabinet of Wonders. I am very glad to find you here.”