Behemoth

by Scott Westerfeld

  “So you British aren’t waiting for the sultan to join the war. You’ll strike the first blow.”

  “Aye, in three weeks. Dr. Barlow says the nets will be in tatters by then. On the night of the next new moon, the Leviathan will guide a new beastie down the strait. It’s the companion creature for the Osman, the ship that Lord Churchill stole from the Ottomans. It’s called a behemoth, and it’s barking huge, like the world has never seen before! Those German ironclads’ days are numbered.”

  Alek clenched the scroll case tighter. The weakest link in the Committee’s plans had always been the German ironclads. But with some kind of Royal Navy monster on its way, the odds had changed considerably.

  “But this is exactly what we need, Dylan. We have to tell the Committee!”

  “We can’t,” the boy said. “I trust Zaven and his family, but there are hundreds of others involved. What if one of them is a Clanker spy? If the Germans find out the Leviathan is coming, the Goeben could surprise it anywhere along the way with her Tesla cannon charged!”

  “Of course.” Alek shuddered a bit, remembering the lightning coursing through his body. “But what about Zaven’s plan? He’s leading walkers with spice bombs against the ironclads. Klopp says it’s insane.”

  “Aye, completely daft,” Dylan said. “But don’t tell Zaven that! If they strike on the night of the new moon, the Goeben will be sunk before they even get there!”

  Alek nodded slowly, thinking it through. In an all-out battle for the city, the sultan would send his walkers into the streets, relying on the German warships to protect the palace. But if they lay at the bottom of the sea, the revolution could be over in a single night. Thousands of lives might be spared.

  Of course, an attack in utter darkness would mean teaching the Committee’s pilots how to drive their walkers at night. He’d already explained the principles to Lilit, and she’d picked them up quickly enough. If anything, it would give the revolutionaries yet another advantage.

  “I’ll order Klopp to say he’s changed his mind, that he thinks spice bombing the Goeben will work. He might grumble a bit, but he’ll do as he’s told. But how do we get the Committee to pick that exact night?”

  “Have Klopp say that it’s best to attack the ironclads in darkness.” Dylan shrugged. “Then we’ll point out that September 19 is a new moon, and let them decide on their own.”

  Alek smiled. “And with your masculine charms, you can persuade Lilit to plead our case for us!”

  Dylan rolled his eyes, turning beet red again. “Speaking of secrets, you won’t tell Lilit about that discussion either, will you? It’ll only complicate things.”

  Alek chuckled. He’d always heard that Darwinists were quite plainspoken about matters of biology, to the point of being vulgar. But Dylan looked positively shamefaced about the whole thing, more like a schoolboy than a soldier.

  It was most amusing.

  “As I said, all your secrets are safe with me.”

  “Aye, good, then.” Dylan hesitated. “And … you’re completely sure it’s me she likes, not you?”

  Alek laughed. “I should hope so. After all, if we did like each other, I’d have to run a mile.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “For heaven’s sake, Dylan. Lilit is a commoner, far more common than my mother.” Alek held up the scroll case. “I grew up not knowing if this would ever happen. Not knowing who I really was, and always thinking how much easier it would be for everyone if I hadn’t been born. I could never do that to my own children, not in a thousand years.”

  Dylan stared at the scroll case sadly. “Must be tough, being a prince.”

  “Not any longer, thanks to this.” Alek clasped Dylan’s shoulder again, happy that his only real friend knew his last secret. “Let’s get out of here. We have a revolution to plan.”

  Lilit opened her door wearing a frown.

  “Took you two long enough. I thought you’d got yourselves into trouble.”

  “We were having a bit of a discussion.” Alek winked at Dylan, then held up the scroll case. “But we found this.”

  Lilit gave them both an odd look, and Dylan turned away in embarrassment, heading toward the servants’ staircase.

  Alek shrugged for Lilit’s benefit, then followed.

  As they descended the stairs, the hotel began to stir around them. The steam elevators rumbled and hissed, building up pressure for the morning traffic, and soon a clattering rose up from below.

  Dylan came to a halt, raising his hand. “The cooks are in the kitchen already. We can’t go back that way.”

  “Straight through the lobby doors, then,” Lilit said. “If no one found your letter, there won’t be any German agents about.”

  “Aye, but some of us are wanted taxi thieves!” Dylan said.

  Alek shook his head. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be out the door before anyone gives us a second look.”

  “Just try not to act suspicious,” Lilit said, nudging open the door to the dining room.

  She led them through the empty tables, with a stride as confident as if she owned the hotel. A young boy in a fez looked up from polishing silverware and frowned, but didn’t say a word.

  They passed him and headed through the lobby, which was empty except for one rather shabby-looking tourist waiting for a room.…

  The man glanced up from his newspaper, smiled, and waved a hand.

  “Ah, Prince Alek,” he called. “I thought you might be somewhere hereabouts.”

  Alek froze in midstride. It was Eddie Malone.

  “Of course, I never took you for a taxi thief,” Malone said, stirring his coffee. “But then I heard the name of that hotel.”

  Alek didn’t answer, just gazed at his cup in silence. The black surface of the liquid flickered, reflecting the dancing shapes of shadow puppets on the screen behind him.

  The reporter had led them to a coffeehouse, well away from the curious glances of the hotel staff. Each table had its own tiny shadow play machine, and the place was dark and nearly empty, the few patrons all transfixed by their own puppets. But Alek felt as though the walls were listening.

  Perhaps it was the beady eyes of the bullfrog staring at him from across the table.

  “My mother’s name,” he said softly. “Of course.”

  Malone nodded. “I’ve been looking at hotel signs ever since, and wondering. The Dora Hotel? The Santa Pera? The Angel?” He let out a low chuckle. “And then I heard about some Germans staying at the Hagia Sophia stealing a taxi. So the name Sophie started ringing in my ears.”

  “But how did you know to call me prince?” Alek said. “I’m not the only Austrian with a mother named Sophie.”

  “That’s what I figured, until I started looking into that Count Volger fellow. He and your father were old friends, weren’t they?”

  Alek nodded, his eyes closing. He was exhausted, and there was another long day of work ahead—a whole revolution to rethink.

  “But we stole that taxi seven barking days ago!” Dylan said. “Have you been sitting in that lobby all that time?”

  “Of course not,” Malone said. “It took me three days of pondering, then another three to find out who Count Volger was. I practically just got there.”

  Alek winced a little. If only they’d gone to retrieve the letter a day earlier, they might have never laid eyes on the man.

  “But once it all fell into place, I just had to find you again.” Malone’s face was beaming. “A missing prince, the boy whose family started the Great War! Biggest story I’ve ever covered.”

  “Should we kill him now?” Lilit asked.

  Malone gave her a curious look; clearly he hadn’t understood her German. He pulled out his notepad. “And who might you be, miss?”

  Lilit’s eyes narrowed, and Alek hurriedly spoke up. “I’m afraid that’s none of your business, Mr. Malone. We won’t be answering any of your questions.”

  The man held up his notebook. “So I’ll have to publish my story with
so many questions left unanswered? And so soon? Say … tomorrow?”

  “Are you blackmailing us, Mr. Malone?”

  “Of course not. I just don’t like loose ends.”

  Alek shook his head and sighed. “Write what you want. The Germans already know I’m here in Istanbul.”

  “Interesting,” Malone said, his pen scribbling on the pad. “See? You’re adding background already! But what’s really interesting is young Dylan being with you. The Ottomans will be surprised to hear that one of the Leviathan’s saboteurs escaped!”

  From the corner of his eye, Alek saw Dylan’s fists clench.

  But Malone had turned his gaze on Lilit. “And then there’s the matter of your new revolutionary friends. That might raise a few eyebrows as well.”

  “My knife is ready,” Lilit said softly in German. “Just say the word.”

  “Mr. Malone,” Alek said, “perhaps we can convince you to delay publishing your story.”

  “How long do you need?” the man said, his pen still poised to write.

  Alek sighed. Giving Malone a date only revealed more about their plans. But they had to string the man along somehow. If the Ottomans learned that a Darwinist saboteur was working with revolutionaries here in Istanbul, they might begin to piece together Dr. Barlow’s plan.

  Alek looked to Dylan for help.

  “Don’t you see, Mr. Malone?” the boy said. “If you give us all away, then the story’s over. But if you just wait a wee bit, it’ll get heaps more interesting, we promise!”

  Malone leaned back, drumming his fingers on the table. “Well, I suppose you’ve got a little while. I file my stories by messenger tern. That’s four days to cross the Atlantic. And because I use birds, the Germans’ can’t listen in on their fancy new wireless tower.”

  “Four days is hardly—,” Alek began, but Dylan grabbed his arm.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Malone,” the boy said. “What wireless tower are you talking about?”

  “The big one they’re just finishing.” Malone gave a shrug. “It’s meant to be a secret, but half the Germans in this city are working on it. Has its own power station, they say.”

  Dylan’s eyes grew wider. “Is this tower somewhere along a railroad line?”

  “I’ve heard it’s somewhere on the cliffs, where the old tracks follow the water.” Malone narrowed his eyes. “What’s so interesting about that?”

  “Barking spiders,” Dylan said softly. “I should have realized the first night I was here.”

  Alek stared at the boy, remembering his story about the night he’d arrived. Dylan had secretly ridden a short way on the Orient-Express, which the Germans were using to smuggle parts out of the city … electrikal parts.

  The pieces finally fell into place.

  “With its own power station?” Alek asked.

  Eddie Malone nodded, his eyes flicking between the two of them.

  Alek felt a cold finger sliding down his spine. No mere wireless tower would need that much power. The Leviathan was flying straight into disaster.

  “Can you give us a month?” he asked Malone.

  “A whole month?” The reporter let out a snort. “My editors would have me brought home in a brown bag. You have to give me something to write about.”

  Dylan sat up straighter. “All right, then, I’ve got a story for you. And the sooner you publish it, the better. That wireless tower—”

  “Wait!” Alek said. “I have something better. How about an interview with the missing prince of Hohenberg? I’ll tell you about the night I left my home, how I escaped Austria and made it to the Alps. Who I think killed my parents, and why. Will that keep you busy enough, Mr. Malone?”

  The man’s pen was scribbling, his head nodding furiously. Dylan was staring at Alek, wide eyed.

  “But there’s one condition: You can’t mention either of my friends,” Alek said. “Just say I’m hiding in the hills somewhere, alone.”

  The man paused a moment, then shrugged. “Whatever you want, as long as I can take some photographs too.”

  Alek shuddered—of course Malone’s newspaper was the sort that published photographs. How perfectly vulgar.

  But he could only nod.

  “Mr. Malone,” Dylan said, “there’s still one other thing—”

  “Not tonight,” Alek said. “I’m afraid we’re all quite tired, Mr. Malone. I’m sure you understand.”

  “You’re not the only ones.” The reporter stood up, stretching his arms. “I’ve been in that lobby all night. Meet me tomorrow in the usual café?”

  Alek nodded, and Malone gathered his things and left, not even offering to pay for his coffee.

  “This is all my fault,” Lilit said when the man was gone. “I saw him when I followed you. I should have recognized him on my way up.”

  Alek shook his head. “No. I was the one foolish enough to involve a reporter in my affairs.”

  “No matter whose fault it is,” Dylan said, “we should have told him about the …” He hesitated, looking at Lilit.

  She waved a hand dismissively. “The Committee knows all about that tower. We’d been watching the Germans build it for months, wondering what it might be. Until Alek came along and explained everything.”

  “I did?” Alek asked, then remembered his first day at the warehouse. Nene hadn’t believed a word he’d said … until he’d mentioned the Tesla cannon. Then suddenly she’d become quite interested, peppering him with questions—what it was called, how it worked, and whether it could be used against walkers. “But I thought we were talking about the Goeben. Why didn’t you tell me the sultan had another Tesla cannon?”

  “It hardly mattered—you said it couldn’t affect our walkers.” She frowned, looking at Dylan. “But it can shoot down airships, can’t it?”

  The boy cleared his throat, but only shrugged.

  “And you both just turned green at the thought of that,” Lilit said.

  “Aye, well, you know,” Dylan said. “Those contraptions are a professional hazard, when you’re an airman.”

  Lilit crossed her arms. “And you were about to tell that reporter what this ‘wireless tower’ really was, to warn your Darwinist friends!” She turned to Alek. “And you’re willing to spill your family secrets just to keep Dylan out of the papers! There’s something you two aren’t telling me.”

  Alek sighed. Lilit could be annoyingly perceptive sometimes.

  “Shall I ask my grandmother to help me sort this all out? She’s very good at puzzles.”

  Alek turned to Dylan. “We should tell her everything.”

  The boy threw up his hand in surrender. “Aye, it hardly matters anymore. We have to put a stop to the whole plan! Just tell Malone about the Tesla cannon tomorrow. Once that’s in the papers, the Admiralty will know the plan is too dangerous.”

  “We can’t,” Alek said. “The revolution will fail without the Leviathan’s help!”

  “But they’ll never make it. If that cannon’s got its own power plant, it’s got to be barking huge.”

  Alek opened his mouth, but couldn’t find words to argue with. There was no way to fly an airship over Istanbul now, not with a giant Tesla cannon overlooking the city.

  Lilit let out an exasperated sigh. “Well, since neither of you boys can be bothered to explain, allow me.”

  She held up one hand, ticking off points on her fingers.

  “One, the Leviathan is clearly on its way back to Istanbul, or you wouldn’t care about this Tesla cannon. Two, whatever it’s up to can help the revolution, as Alek just said. And three, this all has to do with your secret mission.” She hesitated a moment, staring at Dylan. “Your men were captured near the kraken nets, weren’t they?”

  Alek opened his mouth again, wanting to interrupt before she figured out the truth. But Lilit silenced him with a wave of her hand.

  “Everyone thinks your mission failed, but they don’t know that you weren’t captured.” Her eyes widened. “You plan to bring a kraken down the strait!
”

  Dylan looked miserable, but only nodded. “Not really a kraken, but close enough. And a fine plan it was too. But it’s all ruined now! We have to tell Malone about the cannon, or get a warning to the Admiralty some other way.”

  “But this is perfect!” Lilit said.

  “Perfect in what way, exactly?” Dylan cried. “That cannon is a death trap, and the Leviathan is headed right toward it! That’s my ship we’re talking about!”

  “We’re talking about the liberation of my people as well,” Lilit said softly, her eyes locked on his. “The Committee will deal with this problem, I swear.”

  “But my mission was meant to be top secret.” Dylan shook his head. “I can’t let it go forward if a daft bunch of anarchists know about it!”

  “Then we won’t tell anyone else,” Lilit said. “Only we three have to know.”

  Alek frowned. “The three of us can’t destroy a Tesla cannon.”

  “No, we can’t. But …” Lilit held one hand up, her eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “My father plans to lead the assault on the Goeben himself, with four walkers. But if the Leviathan and its sea monster can deal with the ironclads, we have those walkers to spare. So on the night of the revolution, we explain everything to my father, then head to the cliffs and tear this Tesla cannon to the ground!”

  “Someone might find out,” Dylan said.

  “What if we only use pilots we trust?” Alek asked. “Lilit’s walker, mine, Klopp’s, and Zaven’s. No one else has to know what’s going on.”

  Lilit shrugged. “No one else is volunteering to fight the Goeben, after all.”

  Dylan stared at them both, a look of terror in his eyes.

  “But what if we fail?” he said softly. “They’ll all burn.”

  Lilit reached across the table and took his hands in her own.

  “We won’t fail,” she said. “Our revolution depends on your ship.”

  Dylan stared at her hands for a moment, then looked helplessly at Alek.

  “It’s the only way they can win,” Alek said simply. “And the only way to complete your mission. Your men sacrificed themselves for this, right?”