The Celestial Globe

by Marie Rutkoski

  She was only a few feet from her home and calling for her father when the first of the Gristleki slipped onto its two feet. Three more Gray Men oozed out of their crouched positions. Petra had seen nothing but the flames and didn’t notice the Gristleki until they moved.

  She skidded to a stop, and the four creatures slithered toward her, their claws squealing against the cobblestones. They could have seized the girl immediately but moved slowly because they liked it. They savored the fear that would freeze her face as they grew closer.

  The Gristleki were the color of ash, and covered in scales. Their skin was dry and cracked, as if something had sucked the fluids out of their bodies. But the most horrifying feature of the Gristleki was their shape. It was human. Even though they looked like skeletons with snake skin stretched over the bones, and even though claws sprang from their hands and feet, the creatures looked like they had once been men. Four scaly skulls slipped closer to Petra. Their faces had no lips. They had no eyebrows or eyelashes, as if they had been burned away. But their eyes were human.

  One of them opened its toothless mouth, and Petra stared into the black hole. She tried to move, but her legs were rooted to the earth.

  “Petra!” Astrophil was shouting in her ear. “Listen to me: you have to run. Do you hear me? Petra!” He gripped her earlobe so hard that blood trickled down her neck.

  She took a step backward. The second step was easier.

  A Gristleki smiled, showing its gums.

  The other Gray Men had already borne away their first prey. That had been far too easy. These four hoped that the girl would put up more of a fight. They all smiled now encouragingly.

  Petra had only two options: the forest or the town. Even in her fear, she couldn’t lead these monsters to the homes of people she had known all her life.

  She sprinted for the trees.

  The Gray Men watched until she disappeared. Then they dropped to the ground and began to race on all fours. They poured after her like liquid poison.

  Petra’s heart pounded hopelessly in her ears, and every breath she took ripped at the back of her throat. She tried to run faster, but her legs were hot and weak. She stumbled.

  A hand seized her. It spun Petra around, rasping up her arm. She stared at the scaly claw as it scraped along her skin, tearing ribbons of blood. The creature opened its mouth and its tongue slipped out. The Gray Man could smell the stink of fear. It looked at the girl’s throat, where sweat mingled with a thin line of blood. Then it leaned forward and licked Petra’s neck.

  Something inside her snapped, and she began to scream. Petra felt like she was splitting apart, and with all of her heart and mind she cried, “HELP! HELP ME!”

  For the first time in her life, Petra fainted.

  WHEN SHE regained consciousness, she was lying on her stomach and her face was pressed against something soft. Her left arm and the side of her neck burned. She felt something twitch on her shoulder blade, shifting under her cloak: Astrophil.

  She opened her eyes, lifted herself onto her elbows, and saw that she was on a large velvet bed. She murmured, “Where am I?”

  Before Astrophil could reply, a voice said, “You’re in my home.”

  Petra knew that voice. She spun around in shock.

  “You’re in London,” said John Dee. “You’re safe.”

  4

  Blood of the Shadowdrake

  LONDON?” Petra cried. “What do you mean, I’m in London? I’m dreaming, right? If you’re here, then I must be dreaming.”

  “I am afraid you are not,” Dee said, standing several feet from the bed, tall and inscrutable.

  “Explain to me what’s going on!” Petra exploded. “What am I doing here? Where is my father? What were those . . . things?” She was ashamed when her voice broke.

  “Impatient as ever, I see. The answers to your questions can wait. Your wounds cannot. They should be seen to first, my dear.”

  “I am not your dear!”

  She jumped to her feet and ran to the door. She yanked at the handle, but the door wouldn’t open. She glared over her shoulder.

  Dee had not moved. He regarded her coolly.

  “Let me out.”

  “Not in your condition.”

  “My condition?” she asked warily.

  “You have been poisoned by the touch of the creatures that attacked you. You will probably die. You certainly won’t do yourself any good with your theatrical hysterics. This will only cause your heart to beat more quickly, which will pump the poison through your bloodstream. Who knows,” he said idly, “how long you will last?”

  Petra, please sit down, Astrophil said.

  He can’t be telling the truth. It is not possible for me to be in London. It would take months for me to travel to England! So I’m supposed to believe him when he says I’ve been poisoned?

  I believe him. And you are in London.

  She was stunned into silence.

  Petra, the spider continued, I saw everything that happened while you were unconscious. John Dee did indeed save your life. Having done that, it would not be rational for him to harm you now, and he is clearly interested in doing you some good. You cannot risk the possibility that he is correct about the danger your wounds pose. His voice shook.

  She looked at her torn forearm. The gashes throbbed, just like her neck. Her entire left arm felt tight, swollen.

  She faced Dee. “All right. How about this: I’ll be calm, but I want answers.”

  “A bargain? You are in no position to negotiate anything. Perhaps I do not wish to answer your questions. Perhaps I do not care whether you are calm or not.”

  “You care,” she stated. “You’re just being tight-fisted with information. Like always.”

  He tilted his head, considering. “Very well. I agree to your bargain. Sit.”

  She sank into an overstuffed brocade chair. She wouldn’t have admitted it, but she was glad to sit. Her head was swimming.

  “Is my father in London, too?” she began.

  “No.”

  “Where is he, then?”

  “I do not know. Now, now, Petra, don’t erupt into accusations. I thought we agreed you were going to be still, polite, and attentive.”

  “The word I used was ‘calm.’ I didn’t say ‘attentive,’ and I never said ‘polite.’ Now, where is—?”

  “I truly do not know. I could, however, find out. I certainly can make an educated guess as to where he is. So can you, unless the poison has begun to affect your brain.”

  She briefly closed her eyes. “The prince. Salamander Castle.”

  “Of course. Though I would probably specify that your father’s location is in the dungeons. If, that is, he is still alive.”

  “But you’ll find out, right?” Her voice was desperate.

  “Yes. Not now, however. And I will not share that information for free. Next question?”

  “I need to know—”

  “Next.”

  “Answer my question!”

  “My presence is doing you more harm than good.” Dee glided to the door and placed his thumb on the latch. “I shall speak with you later. My doctor will be with you shortly.”

  “Wait.” Petra stared at the brocade pattern on the arms of her chair, unnerved to see that the design was familiar. Those stitched red flowers had been in her dream. She fought against panic and dizziness. “I need to understand what’s happening to me.”

  He nodded. “Yes. It is a topic that interests us both.” He drew a chair forward and sat down across from Petra. “I am a man of great patience, but every admirable quality has its limits. I will appreciate seeing just how calm, attentive, and polite you will be as our conversation continues.”

  Petra took a breath to steady herself. “Tell me what those creatures were.”

  “The Gristleki. They are more commonly known as the Gray Men.”

  “But what are they?”

  “An invention. Surely you remember the name Fiala Broshek? Sometime during
our stay at Salamander Castle, a man called Karel had the misfortune to be delivered into her hands. Fiala Broshek is a surgeon with a rather interesting set of morals. She decided to use Karel for one of her experiments.

  “Your education has been limited, to say the least. So I imagine you’ve never heard of a Shadowdrake, a particular breed of dragon that breathes darkness, not fire. Fiala Broshek paid a warrior to kill a Shadowdrake and collect its blood. She then cut the wrist of Karel, drained him of every drop of human blood, and gave him a transfusion of Shadowdrake blood. This brought the dead man back to life, if life is the word you wish to apply to such a creature. The operation had intriguing effects on the human body, as you witnessed firsthand. The surgeon repeated this operation with several other subjects.”

  “How did you get this information? From spies?”

  “Just so. Are you interested to learn how I saved you from the Gray Men?”

  She nodded.

  “I decapitated them,” he said.

  Her jaw dropped.

  “That means that I cut their heads off,” he added.

  “I know what it means!” Remembering the speed of the Gray Men and their burning touch, she said hesitantly, “All four of them?”

  He smiled.

  His message sank in. However terrifying the Gray Men were, John Dee was more dangerous. At least four times more dangerous.

  She almost dreaded the answer to her next question. “If I’m really in London, how did you bring me here?”

  “With the aid of my daughters. Judging by your shocked expression, you don’t think of me as quite human, do you? Yet I am, Petra, and I have a family. My daughters, who are about your age, possess remarkable magic. They can manipulate passageways through space. In less than the time it takes for you to cross a street, I can step from London to Bohemia. Anyone can, anyone who knows precisely where to enter a passageway created by Madinia. She is able to tear Rifts in space. Margaret can close them.”

  “So Margaret and Madinia will help me go home.” Petra’s chest felt tight, just like her throbbing arm. “Won’t they?”

  “No.”

  A numbness crept over her. She couldn’t tell if it was because of the Gray Men’s poison or Dee’s reply. But then Petra remembered something. She was so relieved, she laughed. “Wait. Wait a minute. The night I left Salamander Castle you told me you would grant me one favor. Remember? Well, I want it now. I want you to let me out of here. Send me home!”

  “I didn’t save your life for you to toss it away. If you return, you will be hunted down.”

  “You promised me! You—”

  “Petra.” He sighed. “I already granted you a favor. You called upon me for help.”

  “No,” she whispered. “I didn’t call you.”

  “Our minds are connected, and I heard when you called. I brought you here, and now you are safe. I promised you one favor. One.”

  “But you can’t keep me here!”

  “I can and will.”

  Petra struggled to rise out of her chair, but could not. She saw her fingers twitch, but did not feel them move.

  “Hmm.” Dee tapped a finger against his lips. “Paralysis. Finally. The poison has worked a little more slowly than I would have expected. But then, perhaps the Gristleki prefer to keep their victims mobile for a time. Paralysis does make their sport a little too easy.” He rose to his feet. “Or perhaps you are stronger than I believed.”

  “Please!” she choked out. “I just want to go home.”

  “You have no home.” He turned away.

  Petra’s eyelids slipped shut and the image of the brocade flowers bloomed beneath them, red like the flames that had consumed the house she was born in.

  Dee closed the door behind him.

  Part of Petra wanted to relive her dream, to pound against that locked door. But now the poison seemed like a cure. When the room went black around her she was grateful that she could not move and could not feel anything at all.

  5

  The Pacolet

  AT FIRST, Tomik thought Petra would come back to the Sign of Fire. He watched the door, hoping it might suddenly swing open again and reveal his friend. But it didn’t.

  Atalanta lay down. She rested her chin on her front paws and gazed up at Tomik with round, green eyes. “Why Astro go?” she asked mournfully.

  “I don’t know.” Tomik shook his head. “I don’t get it.”

  Lately, there were a lot of things that Tomik didn’t get about Petra, like what she was thinking when she bit her lip, or shrugged, or made some other kind of gesture that meant she didn’t want to talk about whatever he had asked.

  Where Petra was concerned, one thing puzzled Tomik above all others: Prague. Why hadn’t he gone to Prague with Petra? Why had he let her—helped her—travel alone to a city where the first thing she did was put her trust in a Gypsy?

  Tomik looked at the shut door again. Something was wrong with Petra, that much was clear, but if Tomik left the shop unattended, his father would be furious.

  Tomik’s gaze fell on Atalanta. He made up his mind.

  “Attie, I’m going to leave for just a little while. I’ll lock up. Can you guard the Sign of Fire?”

  She barked, leaping to her feet.

  “Good girl. And . . . if somebody comes by who tries to get inside, who seems like he doesn’t belong, try looking mean.”

  Atalanta leaned forward on her huge front paws and growled. A snarl ripped in her throat as her lips pulled back to show rows of pointy teeth.

  Tomik patted her head. Atalanta immediately stopped snarling and licked his hand.

  “Mean, Attie. Remember.”

  “Sorry.” She bared her teeth again.

  After Tomik locked the shop behind him, he took something out of his pocket. It was another Glowstone.

  When the Kronos family began packing their things to move far away, Tomik saw the danger Petra was in and decided he would try to protect her, whether she liked it or not. He hadn’t lied to Petra, exactly, when he gave her a Glowstone. His invention was better than any candle for seeing in the dark. But it was more than that. It was also designed to track Petra, and she definitely wouldn’t like being tracked or tricked.

  Tomik weighed the Glowstone in his hand. He turned to the left, in the direction of the Sign of the Compass. The crystal in his hand flickered with a faint blue light. So Petra had gone home, then. Tomik put the Glowstone back in his pocket and walked down the shop-lined street. It was oddly empty for what was usually the busiest time of day.

  Tomik smelled smoke.

  “Move out of the way!” someone shouted.

  Tomik turned around. Two men rushed past him, buckets swinging from each hand.

  He ran after them. “What’s going on?” he called.

  “Fire!” one of them replied. “The Sign of the Compass!”

  Tomik raced alongside the men. He tried to bottle up his fear, but then he saw the skinny house. It was a tower of flame. Men and women circled it, passing pails of snow and flinging them into the roaring fire.

  That’s never going to work, Tomik thought with a moan. The people looked like sticks, their buckets like acorns. Flames flashed along the thatched roof.

  Tomik pulled the Glowstone from his pocket. There was no mistaking it: the crystal’s blue light was stronger. Petra had come here.

  Tomik ran up to the men and women trying desperately to put out the fire. He spotted Tomas Stakan, blackened with soot, pitching snow as quickly as he could. “Father!”

  “Tomik, what are you doing here? Who’s in the shop?”

  “No one,” Tomik said hesitantly. “But Attie’s guarding it.”

  “What? What were you thinking? Go home, now!”

  “No.” Tomik grabbed a bucket.

  “I don’t have time to argue with you. Look at that.” His father stabbed a finger at the Sign of the Compass. “Our friends could be inside that house. We have to put out the fire!”

  “Then let me help!” To
mik scooped up a bucket of wet snow and stepped toward the crackling wall of flame.

  This time, his father didn’t stop him.

  The men and women of Okno heaved snow and wet earth into the fire, but they knew they were fighting a losing battle. The fire had already consumed the ground floor by the time the first help had arrived, making it impossible for anyone to enter the building. Now even the roof was ablaze.

  Tomik couldn’t allow himself to think. He moved mechanically, passing buckets, filling some, emptying others. He knew his father was next to him, but they didn’t speak.

  Then there was a sickening crack, like the sound of a spine breaking, as the beams of the house split.

  “It’s caving! Back! Get back!”

  Somebody shoved Tomik, pushing him yards away from the fire.

  There was a crunching sound of falling timber as the Sign of the Compass began to collapse, the fire rushing down to hollow out the inside of the house.

  Tomik felt an arm around him, but couldn’t look away from the flames, even though they hurt his eyes.

  “Tomik,” his father said.

  Tomik turned. A tear traced over Tomas Stakan’s sooty cheek. “I’m sorry,” his father said, and tried to hug him.

  “Stop it!” Tomik struggled.

  “Son, no one could have survived that. If they were inside the house—”

  “They weren’t! Petra was not inside that house!” But Tomik knew that wasn’t true. His Glowstone had shown that Petra had come here, and his inventions always worked.

  Tomik broke away from his father and began to run. He didn’t pay attention to where he was going. He stopped only when he realized that he could no longer hear the crackling fire. Now a different sound filled his ears. A bird was singing.

  Tomik had reached the edge of the forest. He blinked up at the trees and saw a sparrow in the bare branches. Suddenly angry—angry at the bird for thinking it had the right to sing, angry at himself, and at Petra, too—Tomik snatched the Glowstone from his pocket and drew it back to knock the sparrow right off its branch.