Behind them the airship's crew was silent, the wind almost still. The only sounds were ticks and pops from the war machine as its engines cooled. She wondered if the officers would be upset about this idea of hers. No one had ordered her to use Alek as a hostage.
Of course, no one had ordered her not to either.
A soft metal groan pulled her eyes back to the walker, her grip on Alek tightening. Some sort of hatch was swinging open between the walker's legs. A ladder made of chains spilled down from it, jangling wildly for a moment, the sun flashing from its steel rungs.
A man climbed down then, slowly and carefully. Deryn noticed a sword swinging under his fur coat.
"Is that Volger?" she whispered.
Alek nodded. "I just hope your captain honors the truce."
"Aye, me too," Deryn said. One shot from that cannon could still destroy the Leviathan where it lay.
These negotiations had to work.
TWENTY-NINE
Count Volger made his way toward them, the expression on his face unreadable.
Alek swallowed. Under the circumstances, Volger was unlikely to give him the tongue-lashing he deserved. But it was humiliating enough, standing here, held hostage by a mere boy.
Volger stopped a few meters away, his eyes moving warily between the airship's crew in the distance and the blade at Alek's throat.
"Don't worry about this young fool," Alek said in German. "He's only playing at threatening me."
Volger glanced at Dylan. "I can see that. Unfortunately, those men behind you are deadly serious. I doubt we can make it back to the Stormwalker before they pick us off."
"No, but I think these people can be bargained with."
"Hey, you two!" Dylan snapped. "Stop that Clanker-talk!"
Count Volger gave the boy a bored look, then continued in German, "Are you certain he doesn't speak our language?"
"I very much doubt it," Alek said.
"Well, then," Volger said. "Let's pretend that I don't know English. We might learn something interesting if the Darwinists think I can't understand them."
Alek smiled - Volger was already taking control of the situation.
"What are you two saying?" Dylan demanded, tightening his grip.
Alek turned to face him, switching to English. "My friend doesn't speak your language, I'm afraid. He wants to meet with your captain."
The boy looked hard at Volger, then jerked his head toward the airship. "All right, let's go. But no funny business."
Alek coughed politely. "If I promise to avoid funny business, could you perhaps remove this knife from my throat?"
Dylan's eyes widened. "Oh, aye. Sorry about that."
The cold steel left his flesh, and Alek touched his neck and looked down at his hand. No blood.
"I used the dull edge, you daft git," Dylan whispered.
"Much appreciated," Alek said. "And I suppose that was quick thinking, getting me down here."
"Aye, it was," Dylan said, smiling. "Pure dead brilliant, me. I just hope the officers don't give me a good kicking for thinking for myself."
Chapter 23
Alek sighed, wondering if he'd ever understand Dylan's peculiar way of speaking. But at least no one was shooting yet.
Maybe the boy wasn't such a fool after all.
The captain met them in a salon that took up the whole width of the airship. Now that oil lamps were lit and the gondola was almost level, the airship seemed less bizarre, even luxurious. The ceiling arches reminded Alek of vines curving overhead, and though his chair felt solid, it seemed to weigh nothing. Did the Darwinists fabricate trees as well as animals? The table was decorated with a pattern that seemed woven into the grain of the wood itself.
Volger's eyes were wide as he scanned the room. Alek realized that the two of them were probably the first Austrians ever aboard one of the big hydrogen breathers.
Seven people sat around the table: Volger and Alek, Dr. Barlow and a bowler-hatted male scientist, the captain, and two of his officers.
"I hope you won't mind coffee," the captain said as they were served. "It's a bit early for brandy, and cigars are strictly forbidden."
"And there is a lady present," Dr. Barlow said with a smile.
"Well, of course," the captain muttered, clearing his throat and giving her a tiny bow. The two didn't seem entirely friendly with each other.
"Coffee is more than welcome," Alek said. "I haven't slept much."
"It has been a long night for us all," the captain agreed.
Alek made a show of translating what had been said so far. Volger smiled and nodded as he listened, as if hearing everything for the first time.
Then he asked, "Do you think any of them speak our language?"
When Alek glanced around the table, none of the Darwinists volunteered an answer. But Alek murmured, "The lady has excellent Latin. Perhaps she knows other languages as well?"
Volger gave a slight nod, his gaze resting for a moment on Dr. Barlow's bowler hat. "Then let us be careful."
Alek nodded, and turned back to the Leviathan's captain.
"Well, then," the captain said. "Let me start by apologizing for any rough treatment. In wartime we have to suspect the worst of an intruder."
"No harm done," Alek said, reflecting on how apologies always came easier when you had a cannon pointed at someone.
"But I must admit, we're still confused about who you are." The captain cleared his throat. "That is an Austrian Stormwalker, is it not?"
"And carrying the Hapsburg seal," Dr. Barlow said.
As Alek translated for Volger, he remembered Klopp's plans to disguise the palace guard walker. But somehow a fresh coat of paint had never seemed terribly important while they'd been running for their lives.
"Explain that we're political opponents of the emperor," Volger said. "And that he's seized the war as an opportunity to get rid of his enemies. We aren't deserters. We had no choice but to run."
As Alek translated this into English, he marveled at Volger's quick thinking. The explanation was not only believable; it bordered on the truth.
"But who exactly are you?" Dr. Barlow asked when he was done. "Household retainers? Or are you Hapsburgs yourselves?"
Alek paused for a moment, wondering what the Darwinists would do if he told them he was the grand-nephew of the emperor. Take him back to England as a war prize? Publish the story of his escape as propaganda?