Petra felt a twinge of guilt for not meeting Neel that morning, but she told herself that she would feel far worse if he became a secret for the captain of the guard to whisper into his Worry Vial one night. When it came time for the servants to crowd into the courtyard, Petra avoided Sadie, fearing that Neel might be present among the blue-gray sea of people, and that he would seek his sister and her. Petra instead stood next to Susana, who was so overwhelmed with excitement that she grew pale, her freckles standing out like brown stars. Petra let the two of them get shoved around by the older, taller servants, who blocked the girls’ view but also hid them from the sight of others.
The courtyard was ablaze with torches. The procession began with the young children of the members of the prince’s circle. Dressed like fairies with gossamer wings, they marched solemnly. Their quietness seemed unnatural to Petra. If you put the smallest villagers of Okno into fairy costumes and asked them to parade around town, they would be pure mischief. But these children, David’s age and even younger, walked as if they were going to a funeral in inappropriate attire. They had probably been threatened with spankings if they dared embarrass their parents in front of the entire court.
“Ooh,” Susana breathed. “Look!”
The courtiers stepped out of the castle and filed toward the garden, where they waited by the door. They shimmered in bright fabrics and jewels, their faces hidden behind masks. Many nobles were dressed like fairy tale characters. Petra spotted Iris disguised as the Snow Queen, and watched Rusalka, the water goblin’s daughter, slip past. There was Finist the Falcon, a man-bird who captured a human girl’s heart. There walked Koshei the Deathless: wicked, immortal, and a wild horse rider.
After the last of the courtiers had taken his place at the opposite end of the courtyard, trumpets sounded. Prince Rodolfo emerged.
Petra would have to give Neel a krona. The prince did not wear a mask. He was not dressed as anything but himself, but that was enough. His skin was smooth and pale, his face attractively sharp. His lips were unexpectedly full and soft-seeming, like the mouths of the stone angels Petra had seen in Mala Strana. He was slender, and walked loftily. His robes were made of simple silk, without a pleat, tuck, or frill. But their color sent a wave of awe through the servants.
Petra was prepared for the effect of rodolfinium. But there is a difference between seeing the color in a small bowl and seeing it spread over yards of rippling fabric. For the first time in her life, she felt like she might faint. She was not alone in this feeling. Several servants swooned, including Susana. Trying to support the girl and pat her cheek, Petra didn’t see the prince’s progression to the far end of the courtyard. She looked up again when Prince Rodolfo began to address the crowd.
“My people,” he called. “I thank you for sharing the first day of a new year. I am sure that, with your love and support, my nineteenth year will be the happiest I have yet known.”
The audience applauded. Prince Rodolfo’s gaze swept across the nobles and his servants. As he turned toward Petra’s corner, the girl was so startled that she nearly let go of Susana. The eyes that were just about to look into her face were silver. And they were not his own.
Look down! Astrophil commanded.
Petra hurriedly did so, hoping that the prince hadn’t noticed her.
But he had. He stared briefly at the downcast face of the servant girl, whose features were a general blur. He was pleased by the way she stared so resolutely at the ground. He could hardly bear it when a servant returned his gaze. But soon he realized that his satisfaction came from another corner that he could not identify right away. Cocking his head as if listening to a distant tune, he grew to understand that the feeling that warmed him at the sight of the girl had something to do with the clockmaker’s eyes. They were never wrong. Whenever he wore them, his judgment of what was fine and beautiful was as accurate as a perfectly shot arrow. There must be something extraordinary about this very ordinary girl, though he could not tell what or why.
But now was not the time to consider this. Now was the time to celebrate his fortune and his life.
Petra didn’t look up until she heard the iron door clang shut behind the prince and his court. They alone were allowed to watch the fireworks from the blooming garden.
Susana revived and said, feebly, “That was lovely. But it was awful, too, wasn’t it?”
Petra didn’t have time to reply, because fire suddenly shot into the sky and exploded into a thousand red stars. The crowd collectively gasped and Astrophil trembled on her ear. Susana turned around and ran back to the castle in fear. Volleys of fire burst into the sky above the garden, and rained down over the walls like streaming jewels. Petra gazed into the sky with pleasure, the thunder of the explosions making her body thud with a second heartbeat. Some fireworks spilled their color down in a fiery rain, and others opened into sunflowers. The last one drew an orange salamander, which ran across the sky until it dissolved into glowing embers.
A stunned silence followed. Then whooping cheers filled the courtyard.
Petra was awestruck. She couldn’t imagine how the fireworks had been made.
They must have been done with strong magic, Astrophil murmured, still shaking a little.
“Did you like it?” she heard a man ask.
Without looking to see who spoke she said, “Oh yes. It was amazing. It was … yes. It was.”
“Ah, good. To have produced such an incoherent reaction is a compliment to my work indeed.”
As if roused from a dream, Petra frowned. She turned around.
There, standing before her in a green velvet robe, without a mask, was the man from the library, Master John Dee.
“I designed the fireworks, you see.”
“You’re a magician,” she warily guessed.
“I?” He laughed, but his eyes remained keen. “I am a scholar.”
“So the fireworks were not made by magic.”
“No. They were made from a not very simple mixture of gunpowder and certain minerals. I would tell you which minerals, but I fear that this would lead us to a topic of conversation about which you would have too much to say. And we have far more important matters to discuss. Don’t we, Petra Kronos?”
21
The Magician Who Wasn’t
MASTER DEE STOOD TO THE SIDE of the open door to his chambers, his hands hidden inside his robes. “Do come in, my dear.”
His voice was polite, but Petra had been a servant long enough to recognize an order when she heard one.