“I’d better get some sleep.” Iris rose from her chair. “I need to rest up the Roma army’s greatest weapon.”

John Dee gave her a disapproving look. He appeared ready to say something, then pressed his lips into a line.

“What do you mean?” asked Petra.

“Me, of course,” said Iris. “Didn’t you see that ruined tower of mine? I did that when I was about your age. Some fool of a boy broke my heart and made me cry acid tears. Now, what was his name? I can’t even remember! Well, no matter.” She raised her hand and made a fist. “I will rot the ground beneath Rodolfo’s feet!” She grinned again, and her small, frail frame disappeared behind the door.

Petra played with the green pillow. Dee watched her with a mildly surprised expression, and it took Petra a moment to realize that it wasn’t because she was fidgety, but because she was there, remaining in this room with no other company but him. “Dee,” she said, then stopped.

“Yes?”

“Could mind-magic … could it make someone do something he doesn’t want to do?”

“You are full of questions tonight.”

“Can it?”

“No, Petra. There is no magic that can force someone’s will.”

“But could mind-magic lead someone to make a choice he wouldn’t otherwise? Could it make him believe something that isn’t true?”

“It’s not impossible. It’s a matter of making a lie very convincing. If I had mind-magic, I might be able to sense what would make a lie particularly believable to you. This would require a great deal of power, and subtlety. It would not be easy.” He studied her, and said abruptly, “Petra, I will not be here for the battle. I will return to England with my daughters in the morning.”

She shouldn’t have been surprised, yet she was.

“Please understand.” He didn’t look at her, but seemed to address the fire. “I can’t let anything happen to them, any more than your father would allow anything to happen to you, were it in his power.” He paused. “You should come with us.”

She gave him a look that said everything she had to say about that idea.

Dee nodded and sighed.

“I have one last question,” said Petra. “Why did you give me that letter in London? I’ve been thinking about what it said, and I don’t understand why you wanted to tell me that Rodolfo has no magic talent.”

His answer was simple. “Because I wanted you to know that you are stronger than he is.”

Petra stood and set the pillow on the chair. “I won’t see you tomorrow, so I’ll say goodbye now.”

“Goodbye, Petra,” he said softly.

She left the room.

When she returned to her bedchamber, she watched Astrophil sleep for a moment, then let the bed curtain fall. She left her invisible rapier where it was, hanging from the back of a chair. She pulled on shoes. She slipped into the white dress. It would make her more visible in the darkness. And, after all, white is the color of sacrifice.

* * *

SHE WALKED MANY MILES in the dark, holding a brassica lantern that she had lit only once she was too far from Krumlov Castle and the Roma army to be seen by anyone she cared about. By the time she reached the sea of Rodolfo’s tents, the hem of her dress was ragged and dirty, and the sky was the eerie gray that comes before dawn.

Petra approached the nearest soldier, who stared as if he had seen a ghost.

“I’m Petra Kronos,” she said. “I’m here to surrender myself to Emperor Rodolfo.”

43

The Truth

NEEL JOLTED AWAKE. He had rolled from his low pallet to the hard earth, and lay there, breathing in the smell of dirt. Terror racked his heart until he thought it would shatter inside him.

He’d had a nightmare.

Neel had dreamed of Petra. She had stood against the night sky, lit by brilliant stars. She had spoken quickly, and her first few words told him that this was no mere dream. The pleasure this gave him shifted into confusion. Then came shocked disbelief. He listened, and his emotions decayed rapidly.

“You’re insane,” he shouted. “He will kill you! You can’t do this!”

“It’s already done,” Petra said. “I’m being led to Rodolfo’s tent now. I will make him take the Zim Bridge.” She tried to explain how, but Neel grabbed her shoulders hard and shook her. “Don’t, Petra. Get away from there.”

“This is the best plan for everybody.”

“Everybody but you!” And me, he wanted to say, because he could not lose her, and he knew that he surely would. “Even if you trick Rodolfo into taking that bridge, what do you think he’s going to do with you?”

“Just make sure everything goes according to plan.”

Neel was desperate. “I will hate you forever if you do this.”

But she was gone, and he was awake.

* * *

THE SOLDIERS MARCHED her quickly, and she stumbled many times. If their hands hadn’t been cinched around her arms, she would have fallen.

The army was so massive that it took some time before Petra was brought before the enormous, elegant tent, its flag flying Rodolfo’s coat of arms. She looked at the flag’s lion and salamander, and thought of the four-colored flag that flew from Neel’s tent.

Rodolfo’s flag snapped in the wind. The sound of it drove something into Petra’s brain: this would be a windy morning, just as Iris had predicted. Petra strengthened her resolve. The Gristleki cure had to be released in the valley on the other side of the Zim Bridge, where the hills blocked the wind. It was the only way.

The guards shoved her through the tent’s entrance. Word must have been sent ahead to Rodolfo. He was waiting for her. He was immaculately dressed, and his fingers thrummed against the arm of his fur-covered chair, even though the rest of him was perfectly still. Petra could tell it was an effort for him to remain that way.

The sight of him frightened her, so she looked away. She studied the rich hangings inside the tent, the table covered with maps and papers, and the bed heaped with furs.

“Petra Kronos.” Rodolfo smiled, and now there was no help for it. She had to look at him. She did. She fought down her fear, and made her Choice.

It worked like the Metis had said it would. She could feel her sensitivity to every metallic object in the room fade away into nothing. Her magic for metal drained from her. If Petra survived this, she would fumble with a sword and dagger, just like any other fourteen-year-old girl with only a year or so of training. She would never be able to speak silently with Astrophil again.

But Petra’s other magic swelled within her. She glanced at a paper on Rodolfo’s desk, and even though she was too far away to read the writing, she knew that it was his coronation speech. She knew every word. More than that—she knew every word he had almost written, and then decided against. All the different shapes the speech could have taken appeared to her, and hovered in layers of possibility.

She sensed the soldiers flanking her, and knew what they had had for dinner, and how many hours they had slept. She turned to Rodolfo, and saw conflicting futures. She saw him crowned emperor, and slowly capturing every free European country until he owned the whole continent, and more. She saw him dead, a sword buried in his chest. She saw him place a crown on her head. The different futures confused her, but one thing was certain. When Petra looked at Rodolfo, she knew exactly what he planned to do to her.

She was dizzy. Her own power bewildered her. She would soon be sick.

Rodolfo was entranced by the emotions that flared across her face. “I understand that you came here willingly, Petra. How very curious. Why on earth would you do that?”

Petra remembered that she was supposed to lie in a way that he would believe, but her ideas now seemed childish. If she told Rodolfo that Fiala Broshek was held captive on the other side of the Zim Bridge, he wouldn’t try to rescue her. If she said that the Terrestrial and Celestial Globes were hidden in that valley, he would laugh in disbelief. Petra saw Rodolfo’s thoughts shifting and wavering, and she realized that she had no perfect lie to tell. She could predict his reaction to each one. She looked into the future, and saw her failure.

Rodolfo softly approached her, and Petra was glad again that the guards held her. If not, she would have collapsed to the ground.

“Have I frightened the very breath out of you?” Rodolfo was pleased by this thought. “I prefer you quiet. Yet not quite so quiet. I would like an answer. Why are you here?”

Petra opened her mouth to speak, and instead of sensing one string of words ready to rise from her throat, she felt several. All the things she might say filled her and knotted together. She choked on them.

“You do not wish to say?” Rodolfo’s voice was sweet. “No matter. I will make you answer me.” He turned, and walked to a locked chest in a corner of his tent. “I inherited something very interesting upon the death of my father. It just came into my possession. I had often wondered how he had kept his power for so many years, and over so many territories.” Rodolfo opened the chest and lifted out a wooden band shaped like a plain crown.

Petra looked at it and knew what it could do. She wanted to weep.

“I am lucky,” Rodolfo continued, “that he never thought to use it on his own son. And what, you may ask, is this? What have I inherited?”

Petra said nothing.

“It is the Truth.” Rodolfo moved toward her. “It will tell me what you are thinking. You do not need to say a single word, Petra. Your thoughts will write themselves across this crown. I confess that I am eager to see them. Now”—he smiled—“this will not hurt.” He set the crown on her head.

Tears flowed down her cheeks, because Petra didn’t need to see the band to know that she was betraying her friends, and herself. The words scrawled silently across the wood: A Roma army is waiting for you across the river.

Rodolfo’s pale face went white.

They are outnumbered by you, three to one.

His eyes brightened.

They are hiding in the hills beyond the Zim Bridge.

Something about Rodolfo seemed to shift, and Petra realized with dread that she had done what she had come to do. But not this way. Rodolfo would now cross the Zim Bridge. He would massacre her friends. He would destroy the entire army.

She could feel the band sucking at her mind, pulling out the information that hovered closest to its surface, because it was the most important at this moment. A dim idea occurred to her, and Petra strained to keep it buried. She needed to listen to this idea while keeping it thrust below into the depths of her mind.

Petra suddenly understood. She had to keep one grain of a secret from the wooden crown. Rodolfo could not know that the bridge would be blown up. He could not know the plan to cut his army in half and transform the Gristleki. This was the key information. Without it, Rodolfo might still lose this battle.

Petra reached for the thought she had had just a moment ago. She floated it to the surface of her mind: You will destroy them.

Petra held on to her secret. She held on to it by ignoring it, and pretending it was unimportant. She lied to herself. She brought all of her power to bear upon this lie, and forced herself to believe it. There is nothing else, the band told Rodolfo, that you need to know.

Rodolfo lifted the crown from her head. It was smoking. “This is a delicate object,” he said, “and must be used sparingly. Yet, as you yourself say, I have what I need to know.” He said to the soldiers, “Tell the general to set a march for the Zim Bridge. We have a task to accomplish, one that will mark my coronation with glory.”

Petra slumped. Her thoughts were wild. Visions of the future beat against her, and contradicted themselves. She saw her father whole and human; she saw him as a Gray Man, scraping ribbons of blood across Tomik’s skin. She saw Neel dead; she saw him alive. She saw Astrophil crushed under a soldier’s boot.

There was too much knowledge. It overwhelmed her.

Her vision whitened, and Petra knew she would faint. She gathered her strength for one last effort. They are taking the Zim Bridge, she thought to Neel, and they know you are waiting. Keep to the plan.

She collapsed.

* * *

WHEN SHE WOKE UP, she was in a wheeled cage dragged by horses. Gristleki teemed around the cart, their bodies slithering.

Petra wasn’t dead, but she felt that way. Her mind and body were numb, and it was as if something had been stolen from her while she slept.

Her magic was gone.

44

The Spyglass

“SHE DID WHAT?” Tomik shouted at Neel. “Why didn’t you stop her?” Astrophil clung to his shoulder. Several legs covered his face, and his small body was trembling.

John Dee and Iris waited for Neel’s response. He looked down at the stones in the courtyard of Krumlov Castle as an orange layer of light crept over him. The sun was rising. “How was I supposed to stop her?” Neel said dully. “She didn’t tell me until it was too late.”

“Did she say anything else?” asked Dee.

“That it worked. Rodolfo’s taking the Zim. And he knows we’re here.”

“This is good news.” Dee put a firm hand on Neel’s shoulder. “You’ve lost some element of surprise, but your army is in a much better position to win.” In a softer voice, he added, “There was nothing you could do to help Petra.” Neel looked up. “I know how stubborn she is,” Dee continued. “She made her decision, and it can’t be changed. There will be no daring rescue of her, Your Majesty. Not unless you win this battle.”

Neel’s eyes held his. “You knew she would do this.”

Dee faltered. “I … am not surprised she did.”