“Why,” she began and then stopped. She found it difficult to speak. “Why a horseshoe?” The horseshoe makes its own luck, she thought.
“Because that’s you, you see?”
Petra did not see.
“Petali means ‘horseshoe.’”
“But … but you told me it meant ‘lucky.’”
“Same thing. One word, two meanings. We use petali to talk about a horseshoe and to talk about good luck. Don’t you gadje think horseshoes are lucky?”
“We do.” Petra didn’t know how to react. She didn’t know what to think about her mother’s prediction and how it had, in a way, come true. She put on the necklace. “It’s the best present I’ve ever been given.”
“Excuse me?” Astrophil objected.
“Well, except Astro, of course.” Petra laughed. “Thanks, Neel. I couldn’t have done any of this without you.”
“I know.” He smiled. “But I guess I’d have to say the same thing about you, too. Anyway, I hate goodbyes. I don’t believe in ‘em. So I’ll just say, ’See you later, Petali.’”
“See you later, Neel.”
PETRA LEANED HER HEAD against Boshena’s bristly neck and shivered. She was miserable. After the excitement of escaping from the castle had worn off, she realized that she had no food or water. Her empty stomach was a dead thing inside her. She had no idea where she was going. Her wet clothes had frozen stiffly against her skin. She sneezed. She had tried guiding Boshena to walk on the bare ground, to avoid patches of snow, like Neel had done. But after a couple hours of this she was too tired, too cold, and too hungry to bother. She just let Boshena walk ahead as she liked, hoping that Jarek was right when he had said the horse knew the way to Okno.
She grew thirsty. When Astrophil suggested that she eat snow, Petra just shuddered. But a few hours later, she was scooping up snow in the dark and forcing herself to swallow some.
Finally, during the coldest hour of the night, when whatever warmth from the day before had been sucked out of the earth, Petra fell asleep, her head on Boshena’s mane. The horse plodded along.
Then Petra heard something, a skittering on the snow. She raised her head. They had reached a clearing. A ray of moonlight filtered through the bare trees, and Petra saw the slinky brown body of a fox picking its way across the snow. As she watched, the fox turned its head and looked back. Its brown eyes fixed upon hers, and grew larger. The fox stood on its hind paws and stretched into a tall human with a long beard. It was John Dee.
I’m dreaming, Petra stated.
You are, Dee agreed. I have come to wish you a happy birthday. Petra stared. What?
This is the hour you were born, on a November night thirteen years ago. Am I not correct?
Petra thought about it, and realized that it was her birthday. She hadn’t remembered it at all. It had been the furthest thing from her mind these past months. She shivered against her hard clothes and laughed. Some birthday she was having.
You and your accomplice did very well. Admirably well. I confess that I am impressed by your skills, my dear.
She didn’t look at him. Maybe if she ignored him he would go away.
The Staro Clock still possesses power, Dee continued. The power of beauty, and of time. But it cannot harm anyone now. The prince will surely seek some other means to increase his political strength. But your father’s clock can no longer become his tool, Petra, thanks to you.
His words were flattering, oily. This angered Petra.
Thanks to me! she cried. You talk as if I had a choice! You threatened my family! You made me do this! And, and, she stuttered, wondering how she had ended up here (wherever “here” was), alone on a stolen horse and trapped in a nightmare that was real. Her voice rose: And I’m only twelve years old!
Thirteen, he reminded.
She fumed.
Petra, do you think that I would have really harmed you, or your family? I am not a monster. You simply lacked the proper motivation. A good threat goes a long way. Think of what the clock’s secret power could have done. Is not the world better off without it?
Petra thought of Susana. She couldn’t say no. But she refused to say yes.
Since you kept our bargain, Dee continued, and since it is your birthday, I thought I would offer you a present. You may ask something of me: a favor.
How about this: I want you to get out of my head.
Oh, now, really. Dee chuckled. You do not want that. That would not do. Believe me when I say that I refuse your request out of my earnest wish to protect your best interests.
Funny, I never had the impression that you cared about my best interests.
I will not, as you put it, “get out of your head.” But if it is any consolation to you, I will be leaving your country. My purpose in Bohemia was to eliminate the threat of the clock. Now I can go home. Like you.
You are not like me.
Let us agree on this, Petra: you shall think about whatever favor you would like most to ask of me. I shall give it to you whenever you ask.
Petra heaved a disgusted sigh. It seemed as if she would be stuck with Dee for a while. She looked into the clear night sky. The stars glimmered. Tell me something.
Is this the present you will request?
No. I’m going to save that for later.
Wise girl.
This is just a question. You can answer it or not. I don’t care. I’ve been wondering about something my father said. Ah?
Petra could tell that she had piqued his curiosity. Is it really true that the earth goes around the sun, and not the other way around, as we learn in school?
Is that all? Yes, Petra Kronos, the earth goes around the sun. He pointed to the sky, and traced his finger along the white stream of stars that was the Milky Way, curving above them in a bending line. And the sun and the earth are just specks among many, many other things like them, spinning on some part of the galaxy, which is shaped like a spiral. We are standing on a point in that spiral, you and I. The Milky Way that bends above us is a spiral that, to our eyes, has been flattened into a line.
Petra said nothing.
Let us be allies, if not quite friends, Petra.
I’ll think about it, she said.
28
The Most Beautiful Thing
AT DAWN, Josef stepped outside the Sign of the Compass. He blinked.
Slouched over a horse was a sleeping girl. Her dress was water-stained and dirty. Her face was hidden against the horse’s mane, but it was her hair—shorter than he remembered, less snarled than he had thought—that convinced him who the girl was, for her hair was the same color as his wife’s. He had barely dared to hope when he first saw the girl, but now he was sure: it was Petra.