With that, the man turned and walked away.
THIRTY-FOUR
Alek took a deep breath and knocked on the door.
Dylan opened it, frowning when he saw Alek.
“You look barking awful.”
“I’ve come to see Dr. Barlow,” Alek said.
The young airman opened the door of the machine room wider. “She’ll be back soon. But she’s in a foul mood, I’m afraid.”
“I know about your engine trouble,” Alek said. He’d decided not to hide that Count Volger had been spying on them. For his plan to work he and the Darwinists had to trust each other.
Dylan pointed at the box of mysterious eggs. “Aye, and on top of the engines, that barking idiot Newkirk didn’t keep these warm enough last night. But it’s all my fault, of course, as far as the boffin is concerned.”
Alek looked down at the box—only three eggs were left.
“That’s too bad.”
“The mission’s stuffed anyway.” Dylan pulled a thermometer from the box and checked it. “With no engines we’ll be lucky to make it back to France.”
“That’s what I’ve come about,” Alek said. “Our walker’s also finished.”
“Are you sure?” Dylan gestured at the drawers that filled the room. “We could give you any spare parts you need. They’re useless to us.”
“We need more than parts, I’m afraid,” Alek said. “We can’t stand the walker back upright.”
“Barking machines!” Dylan exclaimed. “Didn’t I tell you? I’ve never seen a beastie that couldn’t get up on its own. Well, except a turtle. And one of my auntie’s cats.”
Alek raised an eyebrow. “And I’m sure your auntie’s cat would have survived that aerial bomb.”
“You’d be surprised. He’s quite fat.” Dylan’s eyes lit up. “Why don’t you come with us?”
“That’s the problem,” Alek said. “I don’t think the others will, not if it means surrendering to the French. But if we could sneak away when you land, then maybe …”
Maybe he could convince his men to save themselves. And perhaps he could salvage a little of Volger’s respect.
Dylan was nodding. “We’ll be crash-landing in some random spot, so I doubt there’ll be an honor guard there to greet us. Mind you, it’s a dodgy business, free-ballooning in a hydrogen breather. Anything could happen.”
“What are your chances?”
“Not so bad.” Dylan shrugged. “One time I flew a Huxley halfway across England—and all by myself!”
“Really?” Alek said. For a boy, Dylan seemed to have had the most extraordinary adventures. For a moment Alek wished he could forget his birthright and become just like him, a common soldier without land or title.
“It was my first day in the Service,” Dylan began, “and an unexpected storm came up, one of the worst London’s ever seen. Tore up whole buildings from the ground, including—”
The door suddenly flew open and Dr. Barlow swept in, wielding a map case and a furious expression.
“The captain is a fool,” she announced. “This ship is full of idiots!”
Dylan saluted. “But the eggs are warm as toast, ma’am.”
“Well, that’s reassuring, though meaningless under the circumstances. Back to France he wants to go!” Dr. Barlow spun the map case in her hands, then looked up distractedly. “Ah, Alek. I hope your walking machine is in better shape than this benighted airship.”
He bowed. “I’m afraid not, Doctor. Master Klopp doesn’t think we can get it standing again.”
“Is it as bad as that?”
“I’m afraid so. In fact, I’m here to ask if we can come with you.” Alek looked at his boots. “If you can manage the weight of five extra men, we’d be in your debt.”
Dr. Barlow tapped the map case against her palm. “Lift won’t be a problem. We’re exhausting our own food as well as yours, giving everything to the animals.” She stared out the window. “And our crew is smaller than it once was.”
Alek nodded. He’d seen the shrouded bodies outside, and the men laboring to bury them in the iron-hard ice beneath the snow.
“But France isn’t neutral territory,” she said. “You’ll be taken prisoner.”
“That’s the favor I’ve come to ask.” Alek took a deep breath. “You’ll be coming down in some random spot, Dylan says. We could slip away the moment you land.”
“And no one the wiser,” Dylan added.
Dr. Barlow nodded slowly. “It might work. And we certainly owe you a debt, Alek. But I’m afraid it’s not up to me.”
“Are you saying the captain won’t look the other way?” Alek said.
“The captain is an idiot,” she repeated bitterly. “He refuses to complete our mission. He won’t even try! If one can free-balloon to France, surely the Ottoman Empire is possible. It’s simply a question of catching the right wind.” She waved the map case. “The air currents of the Mediterranean are hardly a mystery!”
“Might be a bit tricky, ma’am,” Dylan said, and cleared his throat. “And technically our destination is still a military secret.”
Dr. Barlow glared at the eggs. “An utterly meaningless one, at this point.”
Alek frowned, wondering why the Leviathan was headed to the Ottoman Empire. The Ottomans were devoutly anti-Darwinist, thanks to their Muslim faith. They’d been enemies with Russia for centuries, and the sultan and the kaiser were old friends. Volger always said that sooner or later the Ottomans would join forces with Germany and Austria-Hungary.
“That’s neutral territory, isn’t it?” he said carefully.
“For the moment.” Dr. Barlow sighed. “Of course that may change soon, which is why this delay is a disaster. Years of work, wasted.”
Alek listened to her fume, puzzling over this new development. The Ottoman Empire was the perfect place to disappear. It was a vast and impoverished realm, where a few gold coins could go a long way. There were German agents in abundance there, but at least he wouldn’t be taken prisoner the moment he arrived.
“If you don’t mind telling me, Dr. Barlow, was your mission one of peace or war?”
She held his gaze a moment. “I can’t babble all our secrets to you, Alek. But it should be obvious that I am a scientist, not a soldier.”
“And a diplomat?”
Dr. Barlow smiled. “We all do our duty.”
Alek glanced at the box again. What the eggs could have to do with diplomacy was beyond him. But what mattered was that Dr. Barlow would risk anything to get them to the Ottoman Empire… .
Which gave Alek a bold idea.
“What if I could give you engines, Dr. Barlow?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Pardon me?”
“The Stormwalker has two powerful engines,” he said. “Both in good working order.”
There was a moment of silence, and then Dr. Barlow turned to Dylan. “Is such a thing possible, Mr. Sharp?”
The boy looked dubious. “I’m sure they’ve got enough power, ma’am. But they’re barking heavy! And that Clanker machinery is a fiddle. Making it work could take ages, and we’re a bit pressed for time.”
Alek shook his head. “Your crew wouldn’t have to do much. Klopp is the best master of mechaniks in Austria, handpicked by my father. He and Hoffman kept that Stormwalker running for five weeks on a handful of parts. I would imagine they can get a pair of propellers spinning.”
“Aye, maybe,” Dylan said. “But there’s a bit more to it than just spinning the props.”
“Then your engineers can help us.” Alek turned to Dr. Barlow. “What about it? Your mission can go forward, and my men and I can escape to a friendly power.”
“But there is one problem,” the woman said. “We’ll be dependent on you.”
Alek blinked—he hadn’t thought of that. Control of the engines meant control of the airship.
“We could train your engineers as we go,” he said. “Please believe me, I enter into this alliance in good faith.”
&
nbsp; “I trust you, Alek,” she said. “But you’re just a boy. How can I be sure your word holds with your men?”
“Because I’m …,” Alek started, then took a slow breath. “They’ll do what I say. They traded a count for me, remember?”
“I remember,” she said. “But if I’m going to bargain with you, Alek, I need to know who you really are.”
“I … I can’t tell you that.”
“Let me make this easy, then. The best master of mechaniks in all of Austria was part of your father’s household?”
Alek nodded slowly.
“And you say you’ve been on the run for five weeks,” she continued. “So your journey began roughly June twenty-eighth?”
Alek froze. Dr. Barlow had named the night that Volger and Klopp had come for him in his bedroom—the night his parents had died. She must have suspected already, after all the clues he’d let slip. And he’d just handed her the final pieces of the puzzle.
He tried to deny it, but suddenly he couldn’t speak. Keeping his despair a secret had made it easier to control, but now the emptiness was rising up in him again.
Dr. Barlow reached out and took his hand. “I’m so sorry, Alek. That must have been awful. So the rumors are true? It was the Germans?”
He turned away, unable to face her pity. “They’ve hunted us since that first night.”
“Then we shall have to get you away from here.” She rose, gathering her traveling coat around her. “I shall explain to the captain.”
“Please, ma’am,” Alek said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Don’t tell anyone else who I am. It might complicate things.”
Dr. Barlow looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I suppose this can be our secret, for now. The captain will be happy enough with your offer of engines.”
She opened the door, then turned back. Alek wished she would just leave. The emptiness was welling up now unstoppably, and he didn’t want to cry in front of a woman.
But all she said was, “Take care of him, Mr. Sharp. I shall return.”
THIRTY-FIVE
Alek’s sadness had been obvious from the beginning, Deryn reckoned.
She’d seen it when he’d woken her up the night of the wreck, his dark green eyes full of sorrow and fear. And yesterday when he’d told her about being an orphan—she should have known from his silences how raw the heartache was.
But now it was all in the open, tears running down his face, his sobs heavy. Somehow, revealing himself had loosened Alek’s mastery of his sadness.
“Poor boy,” Deryn said softly, kneeling beside him. Alek was huddled against the cargo box, his face buried in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he snuffled, looking ashamed.
“Don’t be daft.” She sat beside him, the box warm at her back. “I went half mad when my da died. Didn’t talk for a month.”
Alek tried to say something, but failed. A hard swallow wracked his frame, as if his throat were glued shut.
“Shhh,” Deryn said, and pushed a lock of hair from his face. His cheeks were wet with tears. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
Not about his crying, nor who he really was. That was obvious now. She’d been a ninny not to see it before. Alek had to be the son of that duke fellow who’d started all this. Deryn remembered the day she’d come aboard the Leviathan, hearing how some aristocrat had got himself killed, riling up the Clankers.
All this bother over one barking duke, she’d thought so many times. Of course, it probably didn’t seem that way to Alek. Having your parents die was exactly like the world exploding, like a war being declared.
Deryn remembered after Da’s accident, her mother and the aunties trying to turn her back into a proper girl— skirts, tea parties, all the rest. As if they wanted to erase the old Deryn and everything she’d been. She’d had to fight like mad to stay who she was.
That was the trick—to keep punching, no matter what.
“The boffin will get the captain on our side,” Deryn said softly. “And then we’ll be out of here in no time. You’ll see.”
Not that she was entirely sure that Alek’s engine plan would work. But anything was better than sitting here hoping for a lucky breeze.
Alek swallowed again, trying to get his voice back.
“They poisoned them,” he finally managed. “They tried bombs and pistols first, to make it look like Serb anarchists. But it was poison in the end.”
“And it was just a way to start this war?”
He nodded. “The Germans thought the war had to come. It was just a question of when—and the sooner the better for them.”
Deryn started to say that sounded barking crazy, then remembered all the crewmen who’d been so eager for battle. She supposed there was always some sod spoiling for a fight.
But it still didn’t make sense. “Your family are in charge of Austria, aren’t they?”
“For the last five hundred years or so, yes.”
“So if the Germans killed your da, why is Austria helping them instead of giving the kaiser a good kicking? Doesn’t your family know what really happened?”
“They know—or at least suspect. But my father wasn’t very popular with the rest of the family.”
“What in blisters did he do wrong?”
“He married my mother.”
Deryn raised an eyebrow. She’d seen family squabbles over who the children married, but they usually stopped short of bomb-throwing.
“Are your relations completely barking mad?”
“No, we’re rulers of an empire.”
Deryn reckoned that amounted to pretty much the same thing, but didn’t say so. Talking about it seemed to be helping Alek get control, though, so she asked, “What was so wrong with her?”
“My mother wasn’t from a ruling house. She wasn’t exactly common, mind you—she had a princess among her ancestors. But to marry into the Hapsburgs you have to be proper royalty.”
“Well, of course,” Deryn said. Alek’s superior manner suddenly made a lot more sense. She supposed that with his father dead the boy was a duke on his own—or an arch-duke, which sounded even loftier.
“So when they fell in love,” he said softly, “they had to keep it secret.”
“Well, that’s dead romantic,” Deryn exclaimed. When Alek gave her a funny look, she lowered her voice a bit and added, “You know, sneaking about.”
Something like a smile appeared on his face. “Yes, I suppose it was, especially the way my mother told it. She was a lady-in-waiting for Princess Isabella of Cro
THIRTY-SIX
The next afternoon’s watch Deryn and Newkirk were posted on the spine.
Overnight the ship had swelled, the Leviathan’s gut in full roar from the beasties’ day of gorging. Down on the snow the last of the ship’s stores were splayed out, swarmed with feasting birds. Deryn felt her own stomach rumbling with her breakfast of greasy biscuits and coffee. The crew were allowed to eat only what food the animals wouldn’t touch.
But a few hunger pangs were worth the bounce of the membrane under Deryn’s feet—taut and healthy again. The lumps along the airbeast’s flanks were smoothing out. At around noon the wind had started to drag the lightened ship across the glacier, forcing the riggers to fill the ballast tanks with melted snow.
But Dr. Busk had said it would be a close thing, lifting the weight of the Clanker engines along with five extra men.
“He’s moving,” Newkirk said. “He must still be alive.”
Deryn glanced up at the Huxley. Mr. Rigby had insisted on taking a watch aloft, saying he couldn’t bear his last two middies getting frostbite from long hours in the icy sky, even if it meant sneaking out of the sick bay.
“We best pull him down soon,” Deryn said. “Dr. Busk will skin us if he freezes up there.”
“Aye,” Newkirk said, blowing on his hands. “But if he comes down, one of us will have to go back up.”
Deryn shrugged. “Beats egg duty.”
; “At least egg duty’s warm.”
“Well, you might still be on it, Mr. Newkirk, if you hadn’t killed one of the boffin’s barking eggs.”
“It’s not my fault we’re stuck on this iceberg!”
“It’s a glacier, you ninny!”
Newkirk grumbled something unpleasant and stormed away, stomping his feet on the hard scales of the spine. He’d claimed the egg disaster had been Dr. Barlow’s fault for not explaining Clanker temperatures, but a number was a number, Deryn reckoned.
She almost called him back to apologize, but only swore. Might as well see how work was going on the new engine pods.
Deryn lifted her binoculars… .
The forward engines were partway down the airship’s flanks, thrusting out like a pair of ears. The tops of both pods had been removed, and a muddle of oversize Clanker machinery stuck out in all directions. Alek was working on the port side, along with Hoffman and Mr. Hirst, the airship’s chief engineer. They were all in animated conversation, arms waving in the cold wind.
The whole business seemed to be going slowly. At about noon the starboard engine—where Klopp and Bauer were working—had sputtered to life for a few noisy seconds, the membrane rumbling under Deryn’s feet. But something must have cracked. The engine had shut down with a shriek, and the Clankers had spent the next hour tossing bits of burnt metal down onto the snow.
Deryn turned to scan the horizon. It had been more than a day since the Kondor attack. The Germans wouldn’t give them much longer. A few recon aeroplanes had already peeked over the mountains, just making sure the wounded airship hadn’t gone anywhere. Everyone said the Germans were taking their time, assembling an overwhelming force. The assault could come at any minute.
And yet Deryn’s eyes drifted back to Alek. He was translating for Hoffman now, pointing at the front end of the engine pods. He spun his hands about like props, and Deryn smiled, imagining his voice for a moment.
Then she lowered the field glasses and swore, emptying her mind of blether. She was a soldier, not some girl twisting her skirts at a village dance.
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