Petra was silent.
“Well, then we’d go,” Neel said. “You and me.”
“And me,” Astrophil squeaked indignantly. “Do not forget me.”
“Course. Astro, too. We’ll sail the choppy seas. You want a ship, Pet? I’ll give you one.”
“You’d really come with me?”
“A swashbuckling adventurer like myself? You couldn’t stop me. But … what’s all this got to do with the Metis? Why’re you lurking around them? They’re kind of creepy.”
Astrophil shuddered. He agreed.
“I used to be … afraid of what I am,” Petra said. “A chimera. Someone with two magical gifts. I’m strange. An oddity. A…”
“An anomaly,” Astrophil said helpfully. “An aberration.”
“Yes.” Petra rolled her eyes. “Thank you for the vocabulary lesson. Now I have several ways to describe my weirdness.”
“It’s not weird,” Neel said. “It’s nifty. Two gifts are better than one, right?”
She shrugged, her shoulder brushing against the bark of the tree. “Not if I don’t make the most of them. Before I came to the Vatra, I’d practiced my first gift—I mean, the one I think of as my first gift. My magic over metal. I like that one, because it’s my father’s. It makes me feel close to him. But I hadn’t done anything with my mind-magic, aside from when Dee gave me lessons in London. I didn’t pay a lot of attention to those lessons, because I didn’t want my second gift to get stronger. I don’t want to see what my mother saw…”
“The future,” said Neel.
“The future scares me. What if the people I love aren’t in it?”
Astrophil looked solemn. Neel slowly nodded.
“But I can’t help my father unless I’m the strongest person I can be,” Petra said. “So I’m practicing my gifts. Both of them. And mind-magic isn’t as bad as I thought. The Metis say mind-magic is like a cloud. You know how clouds take shape? When someone’s born with mind-magic and it’s strong, it takes shape. It becomes the ability to see the future, or read someone’s thoughts, or sense hidden things. But me … the weakness of my gift means that it’s a cloud with no form. So I can do a little bit of all kinds of mind-magic.”
Neel’s eyes widened. He instantly recognized the power of Petra’s so-called weakness. “So you really could have sussed out my hiding place.”
“Of course,” said Astophil.
“Is that why”—Neel touched Petra’s nose again with one ghostly finger—“you can feel that? Because you can sense hidden things?”
“Yes.”
Neel drew his hand away and wrapped it around a limb of the tree. The rough bark felt comforting under his suddenly nervous fingers. Why should he feel nervous? Because of what Petra had told him? Surely not because he had touched her. He had done the same exact thing only a half an hour ago and it had made him laugh.
That time, though, it had been a joke. This time it wasn’t.
Neel cleared his throat. “I’ve always wondered. You shouldn’t feel the ghosts, you know. No one else does.”
“Petra is special,” Astrophil said proudly.
“Sure,” said Neel. “Sure she is.” His voice sounded too cheery to his ears. Brassy, like he had polished it up to shine. “Me, too. And special Neel had better get his special self back to the palace, else the court’s going to get pleased at the thought that I’ve drowned in the sea or run off. Well.” Neel squared his shoulders. “Time to be kingly.”
* * *
NEEL WAS ALONE in his bedroom when Tomik barged in, his eyes blazing with fear.
“The globes?” Neel asked. “Did you—?”
“You’d better call the court. You need to tell them what I’ve done.”
* * *
THE COURTIERS SHIFTED RESENTFULLY. They’d already gotten a taste of their king’s love of theatrical announcements. They eyed his pet Bohemians, standing close to his side, and wished he were a great deal less attached to these outsiders. They also wished he were less whimsical. And dangerous. And completely disrespectful of them and his own office.
In fact, they wished he didn’t exist at all.
“Tribe leaders, step forward.” The king rapped his golden scepter against the marble floor. “Ursari, Lovari, and Maraki—oh, yes, you, too, Tarn. Don’t you ignore me. Get on up here.” He crooked his finger, and the three leaders dragged their sullen feet to the dais on which the throne stood. “I’ve got presents for you.” He waved his hand in a flourish, and Tomik stepped forward, a large wooden box in his hands. Tomik opened it, and inside were several smaller boxes. He gave one to each of the leaders, then passed the large box to Neel.
Tarn cracked open his box, and the barely contained anger on his face changed to puzzlement.
“Well,” said the king, “don’t you like your prezzies?”
“I don’t understand.” Tarn tipped the box and spilled two small glass spheres into the palm of his hand. “What are these?”
“Globes.” Neel’s grin was proud and wicked. “Happy now, aren’t you?”
“The globes are dead. He”—Tarn gestured at Tomik—“destroyed them.”
“Only in order to find out how they work,” said Tomik, “and to reproduce them. The globes had glass centers that marked the exact location of a Loophole and could guide someone through it. I melted the centers, and molded five pairs of smaller spheres from them. I’ve got a magic gift for glass.”
“He’s also smarter than a pack of foxes,” said Neel.
“The globes were big, and there was only one set,” Tomik continued. “They weren’t exactly easy to share, or easily transportable. What if you wanted to travel somewhere by horse, or on foot? Can you imagine lugging those two huge spheres everywhere? Now you don’t have to. Each box contains a map that shows—just like the Terrestrial Globe used to show—the general location of all the Loopholes in the world. Go to one of the places marked by a dot on the map, touch it, and another dot will light up. That’ll show you where the Loophole will take you. Then the spheres will float, and position themselves by the exact opening of the Loophole. You can travel from here to China, from there to the North Sea … anywhere a Loophole goes, in the blink of an eye.”
“Every tribe gets a set.” The king plucked a small box out of the larger one. “Me, too, since I’m the Kalderash leader, and your wise and canny king. And Tom, of course. That’s the price for his work.” Neel passed the last small box to Tomik, who gave it to Petra.
She curled her hands around it, and the face she turned to Tomik was so raw with feeling that many people looked away—including, oddly enough, the king.
Neel’s chief adviser leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Couldn’t you have explained your plan earlier,” Arun said, “during your ridiculous, politically disastrous gift of the globes to Tomik at your coronation?”
“I could’ve,” Neel hissed back, “but that wouldn’t have been smart. See, now when I make a mistake—and I’m bound to, it can happen to anyone, and what do I know about being king?—people will think I’ve got something up my sleeve, just like this time. That’ll give me time to fix whatever mess I’ve got on my hands. Smart, huh?” Neel tapped his temple.
Arun raised a skeptical brow, then turned his sharp gaze toward the Bohemians. “Why does that young lad look so frightened?”
Neel glanced at Tomik and bit his lip. “I suppose because he knows it’s time to leave.”
* * *
NEEL WAS SINGING as he strolled along the palace wall through the darkness. He knew lots of drinking songs in several languages, and even though he hadn’t touched a drop of the sweet island wine, he sang them all, feeling drunk with success.
And a little anxious, though he tried to ignore this. Now that the miniature globes were ready, Petra and Tomik would leave the Vatra.
Which meant that it was time for Neel to leave, too.
He sang more loudly and swaggered through the warm night. His sandals made a slight rasp over the stones, and
Neel guessed that the palace wall was sprinkled with reddish brown dust he couldn’t see. The wind carried it sometimes. Depending on which way it blew, a breeze would dust different parts of the palace. The palace servants were quick to clean, though, and they hated this dust, especially because it stained clothes. Come morning there wouldn’t be a speck of dust on this wall. Nothing to see—not that Neel could see much now, in these shadows.
His foot connected with something. He heard a squeak and glanced down. There was a fuzzy ball scampering by his foot. It was a scoot.
“Sorry, little fellow.” Neel scooped the creature up. He peered at it and recognized the white markings on its chest. “Oh, it’s you. The one who doesn’t want to fly.” He set the scoot carefully on the ground. “I don’t blame you.” Neel looked over the edge. He could see nothing in the black distance below the palace wall, but he knew it was a long way down. “You and me, we’ll just keep our feet on the ground, yeah?”
The scoot chirped, and Neel might have whistled in reply if someone hadn’t rammed into his back. Before Neel could react, unseen hands shoved him over the palace wall.
11
Sadie’s News
NEEL FORGOT TO SCREAM. He tumbled through the night, the wind pummeling his body as he sped down toward the trees and rocks. I’m dead. The thought paralyzed his brain, and for a moment he was grateful, because if his mind didn’t work he couldn’t think about how much it would hurt to smash against the bottom of the cliff.
He wouldn’t think about how, whatever choices Damara had made, she loved him.
Neel skimmed past the palace wall.
Yes, she loved him, and she was his mother. That was what mattered. This realization struck him with the full force of grief, and he choked on the rushing air that filled his mouth. It was unfair to understand this now, seconds before his death.
But Neel remembered something Petra had said a long time ago, about how people make their own luck. He remembered he wasn’t helpless. He flung out his ghost fingers as high as they would stretch, and slapped them against the palace wall.
Neel’s invisible nails raked over the stones, dragged down by his weight as he scrabbled for a grip. He tried to dig Danior’s Fingers into the wall, fumbling for a nook or cranny, but they skidded uselessly. Then he felt it: two fingers caught at something.
His body stopped falling. He swung, and smacked into the wall.
The pain was so intense Neel almost let go. He gritted his teeth and jammed as many invisible fingers as he could into the hole his right hand had found in the wall. His toes scraped against stone, but the wall beneath them was too smooth. His feet slipped, and slipped again.
Neel tipped back his head and stared up toward the spot he’d fallen from. So far away, he thought. Panicky sweat trickled past his temples as he realized he was going to have to pull himself up, hand over invisible hand, hundreds of feet to safety.
Safety, huh? a snide voice said inside him. What if whoever chucked you down the cliff’s still up there, waiting?
Neel swallowed. His heart hammered, and the tips of his real fingers burned as the ghosts stretched. Could the ghosts rip off? He had never demanded so much from his gift. How long would his magic bear his weight?
Neel had no choice. He braced his feet against the wall and pulled at his ghosts as if they were a rope. Carefully, he began to climb.
His arms were screaming hot hatred at him when he finally reached the hole his right hand had clawed into. With shuddering relief, he saw that not far below this hole was a small ledge. Neel wedged his feet onto it and rested. He pressed his face into a small, aromatic plant growing out of the jagged hole his hand gripped. He gasped for breath.
A ledge? Why was there a ledge in the palace wall?
Because, his slow, terrified brain said, the wall is just like the rest of the palace. It’s part man-made, and part natural. You’re on real rock now. You’re gripping the side of the mountain.
And the mountain, he realized, was bumpy and pocked with holes. He could climb this. He could find cracks for his hands and feet. He’d have to stay away from the smooth stones the Roma had built into a wall hundreds of years ago. He’d fall for sure if he tried to make his way up the slick, man-made surface.
But he couldn’t see much through the dark. He couldn’t see, beyond a few feet in front of him, which part of the wall was mountain and which part man-made.
He took a steadying breath and felt the prickle of the plant against his cheek. He inhaled its scent. What was that? Rosemary. He almost laughed. Too bad he didn’t have a pot to cook with. Rosemary was growing right out of holes in the wall.
Neel blinked sweat from his eyes. He stared at the shallow dirt in the pocket his fingers clutched. Of course. Plants grew where seeds had blown, and where there was enough dirt to take root. If there was enough dirt to take root …
There were holes in the rock to hold it, just like this one.
Right, then. He’d sniff his way to the top.
Neel began to climb again, following the scent of rosemary to find the next little bush growing out of a hole, and then the next one.
He was about fifteen feet from the balcony from which he’d fallen when he stopped. The rocky surface was gone. There was nothing between him and the top but perfectly smooth stones.
He bit his lip so hard he tasted blood. Then, one ghostly hand clinging to the rock, Neel threw his other fingers high into the air. They snagged the top of the wall.
Neel hauled himself up.
When he tumbled over the lip of the wall to rest on the dusty floor of a terrace, he lay there, sweating and shaking. Safe. He was safe.
Was he?
He couldn’t bring himself to look, to see if his would-be assassin had stuck around long enough to watch him fall, and then climb.
Something small and cold and wet nudged his cheek. Neel opened his eyes.
It was the nose of the scoot, chittering worriedly. It held something in its mouth, which it dropped in front of Neel’s face.
It was a small, clear crystal bead.
Neel shoved himself up. His dazed eyes took in the furry animal and the bead lying on his palm, then swept across the terrace.
He was alone.
* * *
PETRA AND TOMIK studied a map spread across a table in Petra’s room as Astrophil strutted over the drawn continents and oceans. The spider pointed to various Loopholes, listing the advantages and disadvantages of each possible path they could take to Prague.
“What about this one?” Tomik tapped a Loophole not far off the Vatran coast.
Another Loophole glowed near the border between Bohemia and Austria.
“Austria…” Petra said thoughtfully.
“Oh, no,” said Astrophil. “That Loophole is in the mountains. Do you realize that it is January? It is winter in Europe. I do not mind the cold, but you two would turn into human-shaped icicles.”
Petra studied the map more closely. “The mountains aren’t far from Krumlov.”
“Ah.” The spider stood over Austria. One leg arched up to rub his tin head. “I see.”
“Well, I don’t,” said Tomik. “Krumlov’s a nice part of Bohemia, sure, but unless you plan on sightseeing, I really don’t understand your sudden interest in it.”
“A friend of mine lives there,” said Petra.
“Iris December, the Sixth Countess of Krumlov, is not exactly your friend,” said Astrophil.
“She helped me once.”
“And very likely regretted it.”
“I trust her.”
“Be that as it may, the countess’s home is in Krumlov, but she lives in Prince Rodolfo’s palace.”
Petra frowned. “Maybe not anymore.”
Tomik looked at her. “Is this something your mind-magic is telling you?”
Petra smoothed a finger over the sketched triangles that represented the Novohrad Mountains. “I’m not sure,” she admitted. “It’s hard to know what’s magic, and what’s just hope.
Sometimes they feel exactly the same.”
Tomik studied her, then the map. “So, Iris is an aristocrat.”
“A powerful one,” said Astrophil. “Her nephew is the prince’s cousin, and if Bohemia were not part of the Hapsburg Empire, Lucas December would be its king.”
“All right.” Tomik rolled up the map. “We’ll dress warmly.”
“But—”
“Petra’s right, Astro.”
“She most certainly is not.”
“We need information before we get even close to Prague. Iris can help us.”
“If she is there!” Astrophil wrung four legs. “This is a terrible idea. You will freeze! And the mountains are dangerous, very dangerous. I have read all about it.”
“Good,” said Petra. “Then you can help us prepare. We’ll leave tomorrow.”
* * *
NEEL STAGGERED into his bedchamber. He found Arun standing near a window, looking out into the night, his hands folded behind his back.
“Nice view, ain’t it?” Neel said. “That is, when there’s light to see it.”
Arun spun around, and his eyes went wide. “Your Majesty, what happened to you?”
Neel didn’t want to think about what he looked like. He had bruises and scrapes everywhere. Reddish dust was smeared across his shirt, and his gold-threaded trousers were in shreds. He sighed. “I wrestled a bear.”
His adviser choked.
“Don’t worry,” said Neel. “I won.”
“King Indraneel—”
“Neel.” He stamped his foot.
“—you must see a doctor. You are bleeding, and you need—”
“No. You need to tell me what you are doing in my room in the middle of the night.”
“A message came, an urgent one, from the Riven silk merchants.”
The Riven brothers were part of a chain of gadje merchants the Roma trusted to pass information along, and the Rivens traded with Bohemia. Any news from that country that could make its way to the Vatra had to come from one source, the only free Roma left in Bohemia: Neel’s sister. Sadie, who was half gadje, and whose skin was light enough that she could pass for white. Sadie, who was a chambermaid in Prince Rodolfo’s castle.
The Jewel of the Kalderash Page 6
