They were about to crash right into it.

Tomik had no gift for metal, but he hadn’t sailed with the Maraki for nothing. He knew a captain’s wheel when he saw it. He grabbed the wheel in the center of the table and spun. The Tank hummed, and veered, and skimmed through one of the arches.

The Tank now swam through the open river. Trout darted in and out of the ship’s light.

Petra slumped against her feathered seat, sick with exhaustion. “Tomik,” she said, “you know the basics of this thing. Do you think you can take over?”

“If I can do one thing well, it’s sail.”

She rested a hand on his shoulder. “You can do a lot of things well,” she said, and headed back to the laboratory.

The Decembers had been dutiful in their role as Fiala’s guards. Zora had the many-armed monster’s flask at the ready, and Lucas was standing next to her, holding a white, blue-eyed cat.

“Please don’t hurt her,” Fiala pleaded with him.

“Why is there a cat in an underwater, movable ship of a laboratory?” asked Petra.

The cat meowed.

“I found it in the bedroom,” said Lucas. “You wouldn’t believe what it looks like in there. Everything is a shade of pink, even the chamberpot.”

Petra turned to Fiala. “Is this cat one of your experiments?”

“No. Amoretta was a gift from Rodolfo,” said Fiala. “He loves me. I’m going to be the Hapsburg empress.”

Lucas’s mouth crinkled in amusement. “Never in your rotten life. I know Rodolfo. He’s not going to share his new power—and if he did, it wouldn’t be with you. You don’t come from an aristocratic family. If Rodolfo married anybody, it’d be someone like my sister.”

Zora made a face.

“Don’t worry,” Lucas told her. “I think that our recent exploits have killed any romantic notions he might have had toward you.” He pretended to wipe away a tear. “Alas, there will be no wedding in Krumlov Castle.”

“I am going to be the empress!” Fiala strained against her slimy bonds. Her hands twisted and balled into fists. “Just you wait! Rodolfo has already set off for Austria in a grand procession, with all the Bohemian forces and his army of Gray Men. When he is crowned emperor in less than a week’s time, he will look for me to be by his side. You’ll see!”

“His army of Gray Men,” Petra repeated. “All of them?”

“Of course. Can you imagine how terrified the Austrian court of his dead father will be? They will fall over themselves to serve his every wish.”

Through the shadows of Petra’s weariness, an idea sparked into a small flame. “The Vltava River starts from near the Austrian border,” she said. “It flows north to here, to Prague.”

Zora turned to Petra with a sudden smile. “And the river passes through Krumlov before it reaches here.”

“Fiala,” said Petra, “you’re going to come up with a cure for my father or I’ll turn you into a monster and toss your cat overboard. Lucas, Zora, we’re going to visit your aunt.”

39

The Roma General

PETRA STUMBLED TO THE HUGE, frilly pink bed and fell into a sleep so thick and black that she never noticed when Lucas, Zora, and Tomik came to share the bed with her, or when they left. She didn’t hear the constant chugging of the Tank. She didn’t hear Tomik instructing Lucas and Zora how to steer it. She didn’t feel the white cat, Amoretta, kneading her back and biting her hair. She slept for two days, and dreamed of nothing.

When she woke, Amoretta was purring next to her and Astrophil was sleeping in a nest made by the cat’s front paws. Petra slipped from the bed and entered the laboratory, where Lucas was supervising Fiala as she burned a foul-smelling dust in a beaker. Fiala’s waist and legs were still bound to the chair, and Lucas watched her hands carefully. Zora, Petra assumed, was with Tomik, steering the ship.

“Is the cure ready?” Petra asked.

Fiala tossed her long, pale hair. “You’re not very bright.”

“And you are this close to having Amoretta made into a fur hat.”

Lucas chuckled. Petra glared at the cat twining about her ankles, though she in fact had a growing affection for Amoretta, and could never make good on her threats.

“If I gave you a vial of sewer water,” said Fiala, “and told you it would turn Master Kronos back into your doting daddy, you would never know I’d tricked you until you poured it down his throat—and I’d like to see that.” Fiala giggled. “Imagine! Trying to make a Gristleki drink something that isn’t steaming hot blood!”

“That”—Petra strove to keep her voice even—“is why we won’t release you until he’s cured.”

“He’ll try to kill you, you know. I’ve seen it happen. Gristleki don’t care whose blood they drink. They love only two things: to serve their master and their hunger.”

“That’s not your concern. Make the cure.”

“And make it into a gas,” said Tomik, who had stepped from the cockpit into the laboratory.

“Well, aren’t you picky!” said Fiala. In a cloying tone, she added, “Would you like me to make it cherry-flavored while I’m at it?”

Tomik ignored her. “A gas will be easier to give to Master Kronos,” he told Petra.

“Let’s make one thing clear,” said Fiala, “I’ll do my best to reverse one of my finest creations ever. But I’ll make a cure for one Gray Man only. I’m sure Rodolfo will forgive me for this, since the last thing he would want is for me—or Amoretta—to suffer at your hands.”

Petra and Lucas exchanged a skeptical look.

“But I will not give you a recipe,” Fiala continued. “I’m no fool. I’m sure Your Grace”—she batted her eyes with sarcastic flirtation at Lucas—“would love to turn Rodolfo’s Gristleki army into hundreds of useless humans. You’d love to weaken him. After all, you’re next in line to the Bohemian throne.”

Petra and Tomik stared at Lucas. He looked away.

“It is true.” Astrophil’s legs clicked against the metal floor as he crawled into the room. “This is not news, Petra. I have told you before. Lucas, as the duke of Moravia, is the highest born aristocrat in Bohemia after Rodolfo. If the new emperor dies without children, Lucas will inherit our country.”

Petra said to Lucas, “So this is why you helped us. This is why you started the rebellion. You wanted to seize power for yourself.”

Lucas shifted uncomfortably. The smile that always seemed to hover on his lips was gone. “I know the line of succession to the Bohemian throne. I can’t help but know it. But it’s not why I do the things I do.”

Fiala glanced between the friends, gleeful at the sudden tension in the room.

“What’s going on in there?” Zora called from the cockpit.

“Just steer the Tank,” Petra called back.

“We should arrive in Krumlov the day after tomorrow,” Tomik said, looking grateful for a change in topic. “We found a tube like a spyglass that pokes up through the water to give a view of the surface. Judging from what we’ve seen, we’re getting close.”

“Hurry,” Petra told Fiala.

“You might command things, but that doesn’t mean they’ll happen,” the woman said. “Who do you think changed the Gristleki into the glorious beasts they are? Me. And I never made them to be changed back. There is not a single drop of human blood left in a Gray Man’s body. None. Your father has Shadowdrake blood pumping through his veins, and if you think I can so easily clap my hands and make him a man again, you’re even dumber than I thought.

“I’ll try. I confess I’m curious to see whether my genius will succeed, and sparkle in the night of other people’s stupidity. But it makes me very happy to tell you that there may be no cure. What you want, little girl, is probably impossible.”

* * *

“NEEL.” Treb strode through the ballroom toward the king. “We need to talk.”

“Not you, Treb,” said Neel. He rubbed his eyes and gazed around the ballroom, which was the only space in the palace big enough to hold the tribe leaders, their clan leaders, and anybody who might have resources to contribute to the war effort. Maps of Europe were spread across the floor, and tables were blanketed with papers that listed the amounts of everything from weapons to horses to tents. The noise was incredible. “I don’t have the energy to convince you that this war is necessary.”

“I loved Sadie, too, coz. But—”

Neel flinched. His voice came out broken: “This isn’t just about her.”

“Will you let me finish? I know it’s not. You’d be surprised at how many people know it. Sure, Queen Iona wanted to keep our noses out of European affairs, and sure, my brother would have done the same. Even he sees things differently now, though, and it’s not because your sis died. It’s because of what her death means.”

Neel, to whom Sadie’s death was a whirling, keening storm of meaninglessness, looked at the captain. Treb’s face was earnest, and filled with an expression Neel had never seen before.

“Somewhere inside me is my best self,” said Treb, “and I betray it every day. I lash out at people I like. I … well, I won’t even list the ways in which I let my worst self win. But Sadie … she was the best version of all of us. Everyone who knew her knew that, and a lot of people knew her. I think the Roma see that we need to protect the very best in us. If that comes with a cost, we’ll pay it.”

“You’re saying that the Roma support this war?”

“They support you.”

Neel’s throat was dry. He looked at his open hand as if it held what Treb was offering, the respect of his people, and felt like he had bought it with earth from his sister’s grave.

“You’ll help me,” Neel stated.

“I’ve always loved a battle. I’m a warring type. Knocking heads, whipping people in line, charging the enemy. As I said”—Treb grinned—“I’m good at bringing out the worst in me.”

“Did you come over here to ask if you could be my general?”

“No. But if you’re offering…”

“I am. You’re it. Now, was there something else?”

Treb’s face lit up, and Neel realized that he rarely saw his cousin happy. Then the usual dark cloud of a scowl settled in, and Treb said, “We’re hopelessly outnumbered.”

Neel sighed. “I know. Everyone who doesn’t live underground has heard that Rodolfo will be crowned emperor in Austria. The coronation is in three days. The Roma will have a force of maybe ten thousand. The Hapsburg army will be ten times that.”

“He doesn’t have control of it yet. We have a few days before that happens. What’s Rodolfo doing right now? Why, he’s traipsing across the countryside, heading to Austria. And I’ll bet you a figure-eight knot that he’s traveling with a pack of spoiled courtiers and drunken soldiers who’ve shined up their armor to hide how little muscle they have. It’s a political trip, after all. Rodolfo doesn’t need an army. If we were to intercept him…”

“Yes,” said Neel, and felt a flicker of something. He couldn’t be sure, but he thought it was hope. “If we kill him, the Hapsburg Empire will fall apart. There will be no heir. Each of its territories will be taken over by local royalty. Bohemia would be snapped up by…” Neel spun, found a table, and dashed back to Treb with a sheaf of papers in his hand. He shuffled through the notes until he found what he wanted. Slowly, he read out loud, “Some fellow named Lucas, duke of”—he peered—“Moravia.” He widened his eyes at the sudden recognition that Petra was staying in the home of someone so high up in the Bohemian aristocracy. Well, that was good. That’d mean he’d be better able to to keep her safe. And she was safe. She had to be. Though … he had to admit he didn’t know this for sure. He had hesitated to try to reach her, ever since his dream of the beach. Ever since seeing his tears darken her hair, he had felt … how had he felt?

“The problem isn’t Bohemia,” said Treb. “It’s Rodolfo, and the people who follow him. And you know what? I think the Roma can handle a traveling party of courtiers.”

“You’re right.” Neel focused on what Treb had told him. “It could work. It’d be a sight easier than taking on the Hapsburg army—or even the whole Bohemian army. The Bohemians would outnumber us three to one, plus there are the Gray Men…” Neel trailed off as he realized something that his excitement had blotted out. “It’s impossible. We can’t get to where Rodolfo is in less than three days. Even with the globes. The nearest Loophole to Bohemia is the one Petra took, and we can’t haul an army—with horses and wagons—down freezing mountains. Even if we did, we still wouldn’t have enough time to reach Rodolfo before he enters Austria.”

“There’s that Loophole from Portugal to the countryside near Prague. You know, the one Tomik stepped through, more than a year ago.”

Neel shook his head. “Dee’s pesky daughter sewed that one up. She—” Neel’s eyes went wide. He shouted so that the whole room could hear him: “Somebody go and get John Dee!”

40

A Treaty

“YOU SAID THAT your daughters can open a Loophole to western India,” said Neel. He and Dee were in the royal sitting room, though Neel was absolutely incapable of sitting. He paced the floor.