Tomik rolled his eyes. “Don’t tell me you believe those silly Persian fairy tales.”

“Tales have got to have some truth, else why would people tell ’em?”

“What about the Vatra?” asked Petra. “Are there Romany stories about that?”

“Of course,” said Neel with such a satisfied smile that Petra suspected he had only tossed the bottle in the sea to make her ask that very question. “Long ago, there were only three Roma tribes: the Lovari, Maraki, and Ursari. The Lovari danced and sang. The Maraki built swift ships and roved the waves. The Ursari had an uncanny way with animals: horses and hares, camels and cats, dogs and—”

“Elephants?” This was starting to sound familiar to Petra.

“Them, too,” said Neel. “And there happened to be an Ursari named Danior, who was as keen-eyed and handsome as a hawk. He—”

“I know this story,” Petra interrupted. On the first day she had met him, Neel had told her about Danior, who had the same magical talent as he.

“Well, don’t you know everything,” said Neel. “Guess I’d better not breathe another word.”

But the story was new to Tomik, who pressed Neel to continue.

Petra listened as Danior was cast out by the Ursari and left to die in the desert. A cruel desert king sliced off every one of Danior’s fingers and, even as the blood dried, Danior discovered that his dead fingers had become magic ghosts. They were longer, stronger, and quicker than any human fingers could be. Danior rode his loyal elephant into the king’s city with vengeance on his mind.

Neel said, “Danior hatched a plan, and had something to do before he could take revenge on the king. He strode into a merchant’s shop and offered to swap his one valuable possession, a jewel that shone like a star on his right ear.”

“You never told me that,” said Petra. “About the jewel.”

“What’s the fun in telling the same tale twice? Every story’s got to change, or it dies.” Neel frowned. “Interruptions aren’t great for its health, either.”

Petra stayed silent as Neel resumed his story. “Danior wanted a large wagon like a house on wheels. The merchant asked to inspect the jewel, so Danior suggested that the merchant’s pretty daughter take it out of his ear. ‘I can’t rightly do it myself,’ he said with a grin. The girl passed the earring to her da, who agreed to Danior’s trade as soon as he clapped eyes on the jewel.

“That night, Danior used his ghost fingers to pick every lock in the wicked king’s palace. He stole ten of the king’s children and led them to the wagon he had hitched to his elephant. But Danior had a surprise waiting for him. For who was in the wagon but the merchant’s daughter, with the jewel in her hand? A touch of Danior’s ear and she was mad for him, and swore to go where he would go.

“With his new wife and children, Danior founded the fourth Roma tribe, the Kalderash. You might guess that a kidnapper wouldn’t be kind or wise, but Danior was a good father, husband, and leader. He had the idea of binding all the Roma tribes together by creating a homeland. With the help of the other tribe leaders, he built the Vatra and became its first king.”

“In London, you told us that the Romany queen is a Kalderash,” said Tomik. “Why do the other tribes let the Kalderash rule all the time?”

“They don’t,” said Treb, who had appeared behind them. He picked up one of the shrimp squirming on the deck and popped it into his mouth, tail and all. “We rotate.”

“The leader of each tribe gets to rule for four years,” explained Neel. “Queen Iona’s got about two years left.”

“Unless she dies first,” Treb said, chewing. “Which is likely, from what I’ve heard.”

“Her husband’s dead and she’s got no kids,” said Neel. “She refuses to name an heir, so if she croaks now there’ll be no Kalderash to take over, and the next tribe will get two years plus the usual four.”

“Which tribe is next in line?” asked Tomik.

“The Maraki,” said Treb.

There was a glint in the captain’s eye that made Petra gasp. “Not you?”

“King Treb!” Neel snickered. “Oh, I can’t breathe, that’s too funny.”

“I’d make a fine king,” Treb growled.

“Treb’s older brother will take over,” said Neel, still giggling.

“It’s no laughing matter. The Maraki have been waiting years for this, and we’ve got plans.”

“It’s a shame, though.” Neel caught Treb’s furious glance. “Not that the Maraki will rule, but that no one knows who’ll speak for the Kalderash after Queen Iona keels over.”

“True,” said Treb. “She is a direct descendant of Danior, and the line’s been unbroken for hundreds of years.”

“And you”—Neel wagged his finger at Tomik—“who’s so sure there are no facts in fairy tales, just wait until you meet the queen.”

“Which won’t happen,” said Treb. “Not one of you is important enough to rate an audience with the queen. I, on the other hand—”

Neel ignored his cousin. “I’ve never met the grand lady myself, but word has it that she wears Danior’s earring. The very same one of the legend. They call it the Jewel of the Kalderash.”

“How close are we to the Vatra?” Petra suddenly asked, staring straight off the ship’s prow.

The others turned, and saw the green, scribbled outline of an island.

“Why, very close,” said Treb. “Very close, indeed.”

3

The Queen’s Command

THE SETTING SUN looked like a juicy orange, dripping color onto the mountainous island as the Pacolet sailed toward the Vatra. The shelves of limestone just beneath the waves created a natural defense around the island that caused unfriendly ships to crash and sink miles off the Vatra’s shores. The Pacolet’s captain, however, knew the secret dance to reach the island safely. The ship swerved left, bore right, and swooped around the cove.

“What if there is no place in the Vatra for me?” Astrophil murmured to Petra.

“What do you mean?” She gently lifted the spider from her ear so that she could face him as he stood on her raised palm. “You will always belong wherever I am.”

“Yes, but … what will be my role? When Prince Rodolfo stole your father’s eyes and you decided to retrieve them, my purpose was to keep you as safe as possible. When we were trapped in John Dee’s London house, I helped you analyze an air spirit’s cryptic prophecies. How can I aid you here? I cannot even do research for Master Kronos’s cure.” He added woefully, “The Roma do not like books. They will have no libraries.”

“They use writing for special occasions,” Petra pointed out. Dangling from a leather cord around her neck was a miniature iron horseshoe that Neel had had engraved in Romany. “Some of them can read and write, and maybe they do have books. They just don’t trust the written word. The Roma believe that it makes things seem permanent, when they’re not.”

“I know,” said the spider, but still looked glum.

“Astro, I’ll always want your advice, whether there are books or not.”

“Really? Even though you are now an adult? Perhaps you do not need me anymore.”

Sternly, she said, “That is the only absolutely brainless thing you’ve ever said.”

“Ah. Well. Very good.” He relaxed on her palm, leaning his shiny back legs against her curled fingers.

They heard the rattle and splash of the ship’s anchors being dropped and knew it was time to disembark with the crew, who began boarding small boats strapped to the Pacolet’s sides. Petra and Astrophil climbed into a launch with Tomik, Neel, Treb, and the globes, and watched the island grow larger as they rowed to shore. Through the twilight, Petra saw a palace etched into the island’s mountain. The cliffs were encrusted with man-made walls and terraces.

“Queen Iona is going to praise me to the pearly skies,” Treb said gleefully, patting the two chests that each contained a globe.

“Us,” said Neel. “Us to the skies.”

The launch’s hull scraped against the shore, and the passengers leaped into the shallow water. Dark, warm waves lapped against Petra’s calves as she helped push and then drag the launch onto the beach.

“Of course, Neel. Us.” Treb beckoned for another sailor to help him lift the trunks out of the bottom of the boat. They were heavy, for the globes were not made of merely wood and paper. Each globe had a large glass sphere hidden at its center. “Our gift’s going to let the Roma wander the world wide with a speed like we’ve never known, now that the globes can show us how to get through Loopholes,” he said, referring to hidden gaps in space that allowed someone to travel instantaneously between two places, even if they were thousands of miles apart. “The globes will go to the queen, but whatever she decides to do with them won’t be worth more than a fish bone since the Maraki will soon inherit the throne, and then the game changes.”

Petra glanced at Tomik. He didn’t care about Roma politics or the globes, she could tell. His smile was like a lit candle behind a screen that showed his thoughts clearly: he was thrilled to be here, for his own sake as well as Petra’s. In the Vatra he might be able to study his magical ability to manipulate glass, an opportunity he would never have in Bohemia. Their country boasted an excellent university for the practice of magical arts, but only students from high society were admitted to the Academy.

The crew plodded up the beach, some carrying the two chests, others holding Tomik’s colored lanterns high so that they could see their way to the foot of the cliffs. Cut into the rock were winding stairs that would lead them through the stone city and up to the palace.

After what felt like an eternity of steep steps, sweat oozed down Petra’s back and her feet ached. She was grateful when the rough stone stairs became smooth marble trimmed with coral tiles. She heard the sailors behind her lowering the two chests to the ground, and looked up to see the pillars of the Romany palace.

Someone was waiting for them: a man who stood like a thirsty flower, his body slender and his shoulders slightly stooped. He was framed by the palace entryway, which had no doors. Torches blazed inside the hall, transforming the entrance into a rectangle of red-gold light.

“I am Arun,” the man said. “Queen Iona’s chief adviser. You must be the Pacolet’s sailors.” His gaze flicked over them, pausing at Neel and then resting uncertainly on Petra and Tomik. “The Vatra has heard that two gadje sail with you. Bohemian, are they not? Prisoners, passengers, or crew?”

“Well, Tom’s a bit of the first and last,” said Treb. “For a while, we planned on selling him in Morocco, but then he became too valuable to part with. As for Petra…” He studied her. “She’s a passenger,” he concluded, but Petra had seen his features soften for a second, and suspected that he didn’t want to hurt her by telling the truth: she was a refugee.

Arun pointed to Astrophil, who clung to Petra’s shoulder. “And what, precisely, is that?”

“I am a spider,” Astrophil gravely replied.

Arun lifted one brow. “If you say so.” He turned again to Treb. “You are the Pacolet’s captain, I assume?”

“Well spotted,” said Treb. “Guess you couldn’t miss my air of authority. I’m a natural leader, like my brother. You know him, I’m sure: Tarn of the Maraki, heir to the Roma crown.”

An emotion flashed across Arun’s face, too quick for Petra to identify. “Tarn happens to be here in the Vatra, and”—Arun spoke over Treb’s noise of delighted surprise—“we are also well aware of the gifts you bring for your people.”

“That’s right,” Treb said proudly. “I suppose the queen would like to feast her eyes on the Mercator Globes.”

“All in good time. She has more important matters to attend to first. There is someone among you she needs to see right away. A youth. Perhaps you’ve left him on the ship, or down by the shore, but I think he’s here with you now.”

“Him? What? Who?” Treb spluttered. “What could be more important than the Mercator Globes?”

“Indraneel of the Lovari,” Arun said.

4

Before the Blue Wall

“ME?” NEEL WAS AGHAST. “What’d I do?”

“The queen will explain,” said Arun. “If you’ll just follow me—”

“Yeah, follow you like a lamb to the slaughter. And that’s what I am, got it? An innocent, sweet little lamb who’s done nothing wrong. Baa.”

“You have nothing to fear, Indraneel.”

“Neel. And like I said: baa.”

“If you don’t trust me, perhaps you’ll trust your mother, who is waiting for you inside the palace. Damara was summoned—”

“You summoned my ma?” Neel shrilled the last word, then whipped around to face Tomik and Petra. He seized them. “I’m in trouble.”

“You can’t be sure of that,” Tomik said.

“Trouble,” Neel insisted. “Ghastly, boil-you-in-oil trouble. You two are coming with me. Astro, too.”

“Of course we will,” said Petra. “But—”

“Good.” Neel sucked in his breath and marched toward the entrance, dragging Petra and Tomik after him, ignoring their protests that they could walk on their own, that they wouldn’t abandon him, and would he please let go? Arun and Treb followed on their heels, Arun arguing that it wasn’t Treb’s place to intrude uninvited on a queen’s audience. Treb fired back that he was going to intrude on Arun’s face if the man didn’t get out of his way.