Then came a lanky young man carrying a cat under his arm. With his free hand, Lucas December helped Tomik pull the thrashing woman onto the riverbank.

Petra came last, her shoulder sparkling with Astrophil, lit by the setting sun. She ran along the hull in bare feet, and leaped from the bow onto the riverbank. Neel saw her walking toward him, her dress fluttering in the wind like a white flame. When she stood before him and smiled, an emotion struggled through him, and even though he had wanted to see her for months, he looked away.

He shook her hand. Then Tomik’s, then their friends’.

He led the way to the castle.

* * *

THE FRIENDS SAT around the dining table. They were joined by Iris, Dee, the Roma tribe leaders, Neel’s advisers, Treb, and the commanders of each army division.

“Scouts have returned with reports of Rodolfo’s army,” said Treb. “It’s not good. Rodolfo moves in the center of about five hundred Gray Men. Getting to him through those vicious beasts would be nigh impossible, even if the rest of his army didn’t exist. And it does. It’s moving in a line of about six to ten soldiers wide, like any army on a good road. In the front’s half the cavalry—”

“That means soldiers on horseback,” Astrophil said helpfully.

“Followed by Gray Men surrounding Rodolfo,” Treb continued. “Behind them’s some infantry—”

“Soldiers on foot,” said Astrophil, who squeaked when Treb gave him a murderous glare.

“Then come wagons with supplies, followed by more infantry, then more wagons, with the other half of the cavalry bringing up the rear. The army’s well organized. There are about thirty thousand of ’em, all told.”

“Thirty thousand,” said Tarn. “Thirty thousand.”

“We already knew the size of his army,” said Neel. “We just didn’t think Rodolfo would take it with him.”

“We are outnumbered three to one.”

“Yes, Tarn,” Neel said wearily. “I can do the math.”

“But why?” Shaida pressed a hand to her eyes. “Why did Rodolfo have to take his army with him? He’s going to his coronation. It’s a political party. Why such a show of force?”

Iris said, “Rodolfo likes to impress.”

“We have advantages,” said Neel. “Rodolfo doesn’t know a battle’s coming his way. Surprise is on our side. Every Roma can fight well hand to hand, and our horses are the best.”

“They’ve never been trained in battle,” said Tarn.

“They’ll do what their masters tell them,” said Shandor, whom Neel had appointed as head of the cavalry.

“The truth is,” said John Dee, “none of you has been trained in battle. The Roma might know how to fight hand to hand, but they have never fought a war.”

A silence fell. Petra had been rubbing her finger along the wooden grain of the table, frowning as others spoke. Now she raised her eyes to meet Dee’s. “Then we need to play to our strengths,” she said. “We need to be clever. Most of all, we need to eliminate the Gristleki.”

“Petra,” said Dee. “I have fought these creatures—”

“So have I.”

“Then you know how difficult it will be for anyone else without our gifts to prevail against them.”

“We’re not going to fight them. We’re going to eliminate them. We’re going to change them back into humans. We have a cure.”

“For one man only,” said Dee. “One man whom you are still putting above everything and everyone else. I know you’d like to transform Master Kronos back into the person you knew. But one dose—one changed man—will not help the Roma army.”

“It will,” Petra insisted, “if Tomik puts that dose into a Marvel.”

“Petra, what an excellent idea!” said Astrophil. “Why, it is almost worthy of me. It is true: if Tomik were to make a Marvel that would multiply the cure by approximately five hundred, and smash it in the center of the Gristleki battalion, the gas would transform them all.”

“If the gas works,” said Dee. “And if it works quickly enough. If it takes a day for a Gristleki to turn human, that will not help Neel’s forces.”

“You, sir”—Astrophil shook a leg at him—“are a killjoy.”

Tomik had ignored Dee’s cautions. He was studying Petra seriously. “It’s a good idea, but the cure’s a gas. The wind would have to be right—that is, there must be no wind, or the cure will blow away. The section of the army with the Gray Men would have to be passing through a valley—someplace where the wind isn’t strong.”

Treb unfolded a map of the area. “There are plenty of valleys around here. But even if we do what Petra says, that still won’t make the rest of Rodolfo’s army disappear.”

Astrophil piped up, “I have read several books on warfare—”

Those who didn’t know the spider well stared at him.

“—and it is common knowledge that when one army is vastly outnumbered by another, there is only one intelligent thing to do.”

“Run?” said Tarn.

“Cut the larger army in half.”

“Yes!” Treb slapped his hand on the table. “You’re fighting with me, spider!”

Astrophil gave him a shy smile.

“Say the army passes over a bridge where the water below is too deep for men to ford,” said Treb. “Let half the force pass, then blow that bridge up. The army will be split by the river.”

Lucas raised his hand. “I can blow up bridges.”

“And I know a way to distract the soldiers on the bridge while he does it,” said Zora.

Neel pulled the map in front of him. His finger traced the road from Prague, and paused where it forked right before the Vltava curled around Krumlov. One section of the road branched east, across the Zim Bridge into a series of steep hills. The other section of the road traveled south along the river, where it widened and crossed the Dalo Bridge into fairly flat land. “We can hide in these hills.” Neel pointed to the bumpy marks on the map near the Zim Bridge. “If Rodolfo’s army makes for the Zim, and we blow it up when they’re halfway over it, we’ll have a fighting chance. Rodolfo and the Gristleki will be on our side of the river, and the hills should block the wind enough for Petra’s plan to work. Even if it doesn’t, we’ll be better matched, numbers-wise—our ten thousand to their fifteen—until the other half of their army makes it across the Dalo Bridge to join up with the rest. We beat one half of the army, then the other. Fifteen thousand and then fifteen thousand, not thirty all at once. We could do it. We’d have surprise on our side, and height.”

“It is always easier to attack from above,” Astrophil agreed.

“And maybe we won’t have to face the Gray Men,” said Neel. “With a little luck, it should work.”

“With a lot of luck,” said Dee. “There is no reason why Rodolfo should take the Zim Bridge when he can take the Dalo Bridge toward Austria. For a man moving an entire army, the flatter land on the other side of the Dalo will be more appealing. And that bridge is wider, which means more soldiers can cross it quickly. What will you do if he takes the Dalo?”

Neel rubbed his forehead. “Blow up that bridge, I guess. Shift our forces south. Still cut the army in half. We’d be on even ground, so we’d lose the advantage of height. We’d have to fight them out in the open.”

Tomik said, “And if there’s wind by the Dalo Bridge—”

“It’s spring,” said Iris. “There will be wind. I know my lands.”

“—then we’d have to fight the Gray Men, too.”

“Then you will lose,” said Dee. “The Gristleki will overpower your forces even before Rodolfo’s ordinary soldiers get their chance—and if they do, they will wipe you out.”

“Rodolfo has to take the Zim Bridge,” said Petra.

Neel’s shoulders slumped. “We have to hope.”

42

Sacrifice

ASTROPHIL WATCHED PETRA pull the bed curtains shut around them. She rested her head on the pillow and lay silent and awake in the dim green light of his eyes.

“Are you using your mind-link to speak with Neel now?” he asked.

“What?” She focused on him. “No. I was thinking. I haven’t talked with Neel—not that way—since yesterday.”

If that was true, then they were barely speaking. After Petra had set foot on the Krumlov riverbank, she and Neel had exchanged very few words that could be heard. An hour ago, when everyone was filing out of Iris’s dining room, Petra had wished Neel good night and stood so stiffly that Astrophil, who was curled in the crook of her neck, could feel the hesitation in the set of her shoulders. “I’ll walk with you to your room,” she had offered.

“I’m sleeping outside, in my tent,” Neel said, then added, “Iris’s orders,” though Astrophil highly doubted that Iris would make a king sleep on the ground, whatever rules she might have about his soldiers.

“Anyway, it’s nice to see the stars,” said Neel. He flipped his hand in a wave and left the castle. Astrophil did not feel the tension in Petra’s shoulders lessen.

“I wish you had told me,” the spider said to her now, in the dark. “I wish you had told me about Neel.”

There was a silence. “What about him?” she asked, and it was such a strange question (was it not clear that he had meant their mind-link? Had they not been discussing just that?) that a slow understanding seeped into Astrophil’s mind. There was more for Petra to say about Neel than the mind-link they shared. Astrophil interpreted that tension in Petra’s shoulders very differently now.

“I meant your mind-link,” he said gently.

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” The answer was automatic, as if she’d been practicing it. She paused, then said, “That’s not really true. I just … I wanted to keep it a secret. Do you ever keep secrets from me?”

Of course he did. He hid his worry for her. He hid the quiet terror that snaked through him every day, when he wondered if his gears would turn forever, and someday he would be alive, and Petra would not. “Yes,” he said.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered.

“It is all right.” He crawled onto the pillow next to hers. “Friends do not have to tell each other everything. I respect your secrets.” He thought of one other thing Petra had told them yesterday: the death of Sadie, who had been kind to him. He curled up, suddenly sad—for Sadie, and for all his brave friends in Krumlov, whose tomorrow would bring such horror. Yet the keenest edge of his sadness was for Petra. “Go to sleep,” he told her. “I will see you in the morning.”

“I love you, Astrophil.”

“I love you, too.”

* * *

WHEN ASTROPHIL WAS ASLEEP, Petra pushed her way through the bed curtains and wandered the dark castle, the stone floor icy against her bare feet. She knew that downstairs, in Iris’s laboratory, Tomik was probably still awake, making Marvels, but she didn’t head in that direction. When she saw firelight flickering from Iris’s sitting room, Petra drew close.

The door was slightly ajar, and a murmur drifted through it. “I am worried,” said John Dee.

Iris’s voice answered, “But if Rodolfo takes the northern bridge—the Zim Bridge—”

“He won’t. There is no reason why he would. This has become a hopeless enterprise.”

A silence followed these words. Petra pushed the door, and it creaked open.

Iris and Dee looked up from where they sat by the fire. “Petra,” said Dee. He was startled, and uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Can’t sleep?” said Iris.

“May I sit with you?” said Petra.

Dee stood and brought a third chair closer to the fire.

“I didn’t know you were friends,” Petra said when they were settled before the crackling flames.

“Friends?” Iris shot Dee a sly smile. “I believe what we have is a partnership based on mutual interests.” She drew out the words in a way that sounded teasing, like she was repeating something she found absurd.

Dee shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Did I really say that, all those years ago?”

“It sounds like something you’d say.”

“I suppose you’ll never let me forget it.” To Petra, Dee said, “Let’s call what we have … a mutual respect.”

Iris snorted.

“Very well,” said Dee. “Friendship.”

He looked awkward, and for the first time, Petra felt a touch of pity for him. It occurred to her that Dee had very few friends. She pulled a cushion onto her lap, ran a hand over its emerald velvet, and changed the subject. “Why is color so important to you?” she asked Iris.

“Why, because it’s my gift,” Iris said, but then seemed to recognize that this answer was too easy. “Well … I like that there are so many shades. You think you know a color, and then it darkens or lightens or blends with another, and becomes something new. Sometimes I feel like an explorer of undiscovered countries.” She gave a self-conscious laugh. “Also … color means something to people—and not always the same thing. It’s fascinating to think about how, for example, white means purity to Europeans, whereas to the Chinese it means death.”

Her last word seemed to echo in the room. Iris shut her mouth. Then she grinned, as if the brightness of her smile could somehow chase away what she had said, and what seemed to wait for them when the sun rose.