“I see that you are determined to go back to Bohemia.”
“Oh, do you think so?”
He stood. “Very well. As we agreed, I will have some information concerning your father to share with you when you leave.”
“I want it now.”
“Ah, how tragic it is not to get what we want. I’m sorry, my dear, but you will have to wait just a little while longer. Tomorrow night, Madinia will open a Rift to Bohemia. Before then, we’ll have a chat concerning your father. In the meantime, I hope you will reconsider your decision to leave. Now, Petra, I have a question for you: where is the Celestial Globe?”
Innocently, she said, “I don’t know.”
“The prince seemed to think that you did.”
“I was faking it. What was I supposed to do? Say that I had no clue where the globe was, and watch him lop my friends’ heads off?”
Petra and Astrophil left Dee’s library, and never returned.
• • •
“I’VE GOT A PRESENT for you, little cousin,” Neel sang.
“Little—?” Treb narrowed his eyes. “You quit flirting with that English lass and come right over here so I can show you who’s little.”
“That’s not flirting, that’s thanking.” Neel stood, leaving Tomik and Petra at the tavern table. He joined Treb and Andras by the entrance of the Spoked Wheel. “And that’s no English girl. That’s Petra. You know, the ghost? The one you said was sure to be dead?”
Treb glanced again. “She does look lively to me.” The girl’s hair was almost as dark as a Roma’s. Her left shoulder was stiff with a thick bandage, and there was a kind of toughness to the line of her jaw.
“Don’t you want to know why I’m thanking her?” Neel launched into his story. “. . . so Cotton had this code for where he hid the globe,” he finished. “N6. Petra figured it had to mean the tyrants, the statues in the library. There was only one tyrant whose name began with N—Nero—so all I had to do was sweep off the books on the sixth shelf below Nero. There was a false panel, and behind that was your present.”
“The Celestial Globe?” shouted Andras. “You found it?”
“Petra found it. I just fetched it. Petra got roughed up last time we were at Cotton’s place, so Tom and I went back there by ourselves. A right easy theft that was. Well, not the last time, since that nasty Prince Rodolfo showed up and an air spirit nearly slashed us all into bloody food for crows—”
“Where’s the globe?” Treb gripped his cousin.
“Can’t remember. Seems I might’ve left it on your bed, but when a fellow’s as important as me, he tends to forget nitpicky details . . .”
Treb and Andras leaped for the stairs, and Neel followed. Tomik, who had been translating the Romany conversation for Petra, helped her stand, and they walked upstairs together.
A round, black velvet-covered object was sitting on Treb’s bed. He snatched away the cloth, and there was a hushed silence.
“It’s beautiful,” said Andras.
Impulsively, Treb kissed Petra on the cheek. “Oh, you treasure.”
She smiled, a little puzzled.
“It helps if you thank someone in a language they understand,” Neel told Treb.
Treb rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’ve got no words to give you for what you’ve done, cousin. But you’ll never be ‘little’ to me.”
TREB FOUND a few things to say once he had drunk three tankards of ale. “To the cleverest, most down-and-dirty cutpurse in the four tribes!” He raised his glass. “To Neel of the Lovari!”
The inn cheered.
“To Tom of the Maraki—”
“What?” Tomik looked up in surprise.
“—a noble lad, a true friend, and a fine sailor!”
Tomik flushed. “He’s not going to be so nice when he’s got a headache tomorrow morning.”
“I hope they toast to me,” said Astrophil. He didn’t speak Romany, but he could still figure out what was going on.
“To Petra Kronos—”
But Petra turned to Neel, fed up with all this cheering she couldn’t understand anyway. “Do you have it?” she asked.
“Yep.” He handed her the invisible rapier, and she slipped it into the scabbard at her waist. “Wasn’t too easy to find in all that mess of glass and plants and paper, though.”
“It would have been easier if there had been some blood on the blade,” Tomik said darkly. “Kit’s blood.”
“I wasn’t going to kill Kit,” said Petra.
“You could’ve cut him up a bit,” Neel observed.
Treb joined them. He set down his tankard, ale sloshing over the side. “Why’re you all making such grim faces? Are you saying your farewells?”
“Farewells?” Petra looked at Neel.
“We set sail tomorrow,” he said.
“Oh.” Her voice sank. “Where are you going?”
Neel and Treb exchanged a glance. Then the captain shrugged and said, “Tell them.”
Neel explained, “The Roma . . . well, our home is where we make it, see? By wagon or boat or horse or foot, we travel where we like. We’ve got no country. Except, uh . . . we actually do. It’s called the Vatra, and it’s our homeland, where our queen rules. It’s far away, though, and that’s one reason why we wanted the globes so bad. When the Bohemian prince began chucking our people into prison, we knew we needed to find a way for Roma to get to the Vatra fast. The Roma have never been well liked, but things are getting ugly, and not just in Bohemia.”
“Now that we’ve got the globes, our duty is to present them to the Roma queen,” said Treb. “I hope we can figure out how to make them work, though, or we’ll be taking the long route to the Vatra.”
“Where is it?” asked Astrophil.
“India,” said Neel.
India. That was half a world away. Slowly, Petra said, “Then we won’t be seeing each other again . . . not for a long while.”
There was a pause. Neel spoke first. “How’re you getting back to Bohemia?”
“A Rift,” said Petra. She looked at her friends and realized that she had hoped they would stay together, even if that didn’t make much sense, even if she didn’t know what the future held for her, or how she would rescue her father. She had hoped . . .
“What about you?” Neel asked Tomik. “Are you heading home? Or do you want to sail? I’ve never been to the Vatra before. Must be something to see. Want to?”
Tomik didn’t hesitate. “I’m going with Petra.”
“Yeah. I thought you might.”
“Oh, don’t look so mournful.” Treb belched. “Even the spider’s ready to start bawling his eyes out. The world’s not as big as it seems, and time passes quicker than you’d think. If a slave can become a friend, and a ghost can come back from the dead, I’m sure you four won’t be apart for long.”
“When will you leave tomorrow?” asked Petra.
“When we wake up.” Neel looked at Treb, who had slumped on the table. “Probably late.”
“We’ll be there to say goodbye. But I have to do something first.”
“What’s that?” asked Tomik.
“I’m going to see Kit Rhymer.”
34
Secrets
PLEASE GO AWAY,” Kit mumbled from where he lay curled in the straw.
“I am going away.” Petra stepped close to the bars. “I’m leaving London, and I’m never coming back.”
“And I am going to die.”
“Oh, Kit. Why did you do it?”
He covered his bruised face. “Why does anyone do anything?” He dropped his hands, and his stare was hollow-eyed. “I wanted something better than I had. More money. Walsingham’s gratitude—which, before all this, used to go a long way. And I wanted you, too.”
“You deceived me.”
“Yes,” he said miserably. “I know what kind of heart you have—open and closed, at the same time. You’d believe the best of a stranger, and abandon a queen’s ball to eat a fried potato in th
e kitchens. But you’re hard. Dee saved your life, and you hate him for the way he did it. People are bad, or they are good, and there’s no in between with you. So was I supposed to tell you the truth? Hope that you wouldn’t mind I was spying for the man who kidnapped your father? I didn’t say a word about you to Walsingham . . . not until Dee fired me. I tried not to be tempted, I really did. But Walsingham paid for information—not by the hour, or by the day. I was barely able to keep my tiny room in a crummy part of town. Soon I couldn’t even buy bread. I thought . . . that I could have everything. That Walsingham would give me gold for the Celestial Globe, that the prince would be so pleased he’d forget all about you, and you’d have no choice but to stay in London.”
“That’s the worst plan I’ve ever heard,” Petra said disdainfully.
Something flickered in his eyes. Then he spoke in her favorite voice, the one that was serious and jesting, but held no hint of mockery. “I face the executioner’s ax, Petra, yet no blow could hurt me like those words.”
She slipped a hand in her left trouser pocket and carefully curled her fingers around the tip of Kit’s broken sword. Its jagged edge pricked against her palm. If Astrophil were here, he would object to what she was about to do. “You owe me something.”
He looked at her.
“A promise,” she said. “One that you’ll keep this time.” She lifted her free hand and traced the lock’s keyhole. “Do you think that you could be . . . better?”
“What do you mean, ‘better’? Do you mean, could I promise not to betray my country, conspire to cover up murder, and stab someone I care about?”
“Yes.”
His laugh was mirthless. “That’s an easy oath to make, considering I’ll only have to keep it for another few weeks.”
“Just promise me.” Petra took her hand out of her pocket, and reached through the bars.
He stood, and walked to meet her. “Christopher Rhymer hereby swears to Petra Kronos that he’ll be a good boy.” He gave her the shadow of a smile. “I promise to mend my ways and lead a better, if very short, life.” He took her hand.
She held it. He widened his eyes in astonishment.
When Petra walked away from the cell, her pocket was empty. The piece of metal was gone.
Kit watched her retreating back until she vanished down the hall. Then his eyes fell to his upturned palm. He blinked, still unbelieving.
In his hand was a small steel key.
PETRA COULD SEE the boats rocking in Oyster Wharf. She was hurrying down the lane to meet Tomik and Neel when she heard someone call her name.
She turned around, and Madinia flew into her arms, giving her a fierce hug.
“I told you this is where we’d find her,” Margaret said to her parents.
Confused, Petra asked, “What are you doing here?”
“My daughters told me that your friends are setting sail today,” Dee explained. “We’ve come to bid you farewell.”
“Farewell? But I’m not leaving right now. I’m going to Bohemia tonight, through a Rift, with Tomik.” Petra looked at Dee with sudden suspicion. “You said I could go! And what about the information you promised me?”
“Madinia can still open a Rift for you. But I think that, after you have heard my news, you will choose another path. I hope you will stay here”—he spoke over her noise of protest—“but if you do not, you will need to be with your friends. I wanted to give you that chance before the ship sets sail.”
Petra glanced nervously at the dock several yards away. Treb was lying in the launch, smoking. Andras was loading the boat. Tomik and Neel stood on the wharf, talking.
The May wind was warm and strong, yet Petra shivered. Dread sat like a chunk of ice in her stomach. A moment ago, she had demanded that Dee tell her what he knew about her father. Now she wasn’t so sure she wanted to hear. But the prince said Father was fine, she thought desperately. That he was better than ever.
The sun shone on Agatha Dee’s white hair. “I wish I could teach you how to live happily ever after, Petra,” she said, “but that is something you will have to learn on your own.”
Petra scanned the woman’s face for some hint at what she meant, but Agatha Dee’s face was as empty as always.
“Here.” Madinia thrust a wrapped oblong object at Petra. “It’s my ivory-handled fan. I adore it, but I wanted to give it to you, so that you could make everyone jealous!”
Petra accepted the fan, though she had no idea what she would do with it.
Margaret handed her a thick bundle of cloth. “This is the samite dress you wore at the ball. Maybe . . . maybe you think it’s a poor gift, since I can’t wear the dress anymore anyway, but I hope it will make you think of us.”
Petra thanked her for the dress, though she didn’t know what she would do with that, either.
“The silver hairpins are in the bundle, too,” Madinia said, “in case Astrophil wants to pretend he’s one of them again.” She peeked through Petra’s hair. “Hello? Astrophil? Are you there?”
“Yes, Madinia,” said the spider wearily.
Petra embraced the sisters.
“But maybe this isn’t goodbye.” Margaret smiled. “We’ll be waiting for you at Throgmorton Street.”
Then the twins and their mother walked back up the lane, disappearing amid the fruit stalls and clopping horses.
Only John Dee remained.
Petra’s heart beat quickly. When Madinia and Margaret had been there, it had been easy to forget, if only for a moment, that Dee had information to give her, and that she didn’t want it anymore, because she was increasingly sure it was bad news.
Dee’s face was that of a doctor ready to set a bone, or amputate a limb.
“Petra,” he spoke gently, “my sources say that soon after your father was brought to the dungeons of Salamander Castle, the prince ordered him to rebuild the clock’s heart. But once Prince Rodolfo learned of the Mercator Globes, he became obsessed with finding them, and decided he no longer needed your father. Mikal Kronos was given to Fiala Broshek for experimentation. He was transformed into a Gristleki.”
“That’s a lie!” But doubt tugged at Petra, and behind doubt loomed despair, bitter and frightening.
“It is true. I am sorry.”
Better than ever, the prince had said. Of course. The prince would think that being transformed into a monster was better, because he was one. And Ariel. Ariel must have known. She had changed into a Gray Man in front of Petra’s eyes. Had she been ready to tell Petra about her father? I offer a word-gift, a whisssper heard far away, Ariel had said. A sssecret.
Despair gripped Petra by the throat. She began to weep.
“Do you understand now why I wanted to keep this from you as long as I could?” said Dee. “I have spent my life trying to know as much as possible. But the most important thing I discovered is that certain kinds of knowledge can be painful. More than that: they can break the spirit. Stay with my family, Petra. We will protect you. We could make you happy.”
“Never!” she sobbed.
“Then what will you choose? To return to Bohemia, where you will be hunted?”
Before this moment, all the possibilities of rescuing her father had seemed difficult beyond measure. Now, any plans she had disintegrated in the face of the thought that her father no longer was her father, but a monster. What could she do? Where should she go?
“I have cousins. I can live with them. Dita, Josef, David—”
“But if they shelter you, how long will it be before the prince discovers this? Would you really put them in danger? Here the prince cannot touch you without insulting Queen Elizabeth. That has been made clear to him. But Bohemia is his country, and when you are on its soil he can do what he likes to you and anyone who helps you.”
Petra looked at the wharf, and it blurred through her tears.
“Go with your friends, then,” Dee urged. “Sail far away. You do not need to tell me where you are traveling. But don’t return to Bohemia. Not unti
l you are strong enough, and skilled enough, to protect yourself. Here”—he pressed a sealed envelope into her hand—“this is a gift.”
“I don’t want it!” She began to shred the paper.
He stopped her hands. “I know you don’t want to listen to what I have to say. Not now, maybe not ever. But someday you will be grateful for that letter.”
She squeezed the paper in her fist. But she wanted to tear something, anything. Something must break.
Her eyes were silver pools, shining with tears and misery. When they turned to Dee, he could not look away.
And that was when he felt something slice through his heart, reach into his mind, and wrench at a tiny knot. Dee gasped.
Petra had severed the mental link between them. I am free, she told herself, and stumbled down to the wharf.
• • •
AS THEY ROWED toward Deptford, Astrophil tried to console Petra. “I think John Dee was being entirely too grim. I did not wish to say so on the wharf, because it would have been bad manners for me to interrupt.” In fact, Astrophil had been too shocked to speak. “What if the Gristleki operation is not permanent? Perhaps it can be reversed.”
“You think so?” Petra swiped at her tears.
“Yeah,” Neel said eagerly, “and the Vatra’s just the place to find out about that. I know you Bohemians have some piddly school for studying magic, but that’s nothing compared to what the Roma’ve got.”
“You have an academy of magic?” Tomik pulled a little faster on the oars.
“Something like that. Also, a Kalderash rules the Roma these days, and if there’s one thing the Kalderash tribe is good at, it’s being all mysterious and knowing things they shouldn’t. Can’t stand ’em, personally. Give me the Maraki or Ursari any day, if I can’t have the Lovari. But my point is that the Vatra will be packed with magical experts who might know a cure for your da, Petra. Or they can think one up.”
“Would they do that for me?” she asked.
“They’d better,” Treb growled, “or I’ll make ’em.”
Hope trickled into her heart, and when the launch pulled alongside the Pacolet, Petra was ready to come aboard—though she didn’t like sitting alone in the launch and being hauled upward with rope and pulleys. She watched Neel, Tomik, and the others climb up the Jacob’s ladder. Soon—she touched her sore shoulder—I’ll be able to do that, too.