“The prince said that it was an honor to give up my eyes. That I would betray my genius if I were ever to build a lesser object. I’m not quite sure genius was the best word for him to use, but then, it seems that the prince holds several points of view that are … questionable. When the soldiers tied me to a chair, the prince promised I would be well paid for the work I had done, according to our original agreement. Then he said that he envied the way I saw the world, that I must see it in a very special way to construct such a marvelous thing. I think …” His voice trailed off. He began again. “I think that he took my eyes for two reasons. First, he does not want anyone —he does not want me—to build another such clock or anything to rival it. Second, he intends to use my eyes. To wear them, you might say.”
“Wear them? Is that possible?”
Her father shrugged. “Anything is possible. It just takes the right spell or the right piece of knowledge or the right flash of inspiration to make something work. If I learned anything from living six months at court, it is that our world is getting bigger and bigger, and that Bohemia is just a speck of yellow paint on the map. I know a spell was cast on my eyes that would allow the prince to wear them. I had never heard of such a thing before. But the prince’s explorers are pushing into new corners of the world, into the Orient, the jungle, and mountains of ice where people ride wolves and eat only air. No doubt there are many spells and forms of magic we wouldn’t recognize. No doubt the prince has gathered as much information as he can about these new kinds of magic.”
“If the prince can wear your eyes, can he make things move without touching them? Can he build what you can build?”
When her father responded, his words were sharp. His voice held something that Petra recognized, but couldn’t quite identify, for she had never heard him use it before. “He stole my eyes, Petra, not my mind.”
Neither of them spoke for a moment, and the silence was awkward. Her father then said, more quietly, “Would you mind if I slept awhile?” He stroked her hand. “It’s good to be home.”
She kissed his forehead. “I’ll come to see you later.”
As she opened the door to leave, Petra suddenly realized what she had heard in his voice. She had often heard it in Josef’s. It was bitterness.
3
Lightning and Wasp
PETRA LOCKED THE SHOP behind her and strode down the street. She had an idea.
When she neared the center of Okno, the soft clapping of her footsteps echoed against stone walls. The street stretched before her in a straight, clean line. She passed the bakery, which was entering into its third round that day of preparing fresh bread. Petra glanced into an open window and saw strong arms thudding dough against a wooden table.
That everything was so normal seemed strange to Petra.
She reached the main road, where most of the artisan shops were arranged in a neat row. Wooden signs hung above the doors, each showing a different painting so that people who could not read would recognize the shop they wanted.
Mistress Jugo gave her a sour look and stepped back inside her toy shop, which was marked by a wooden board showing a spinning top. Although Petra’s father had done his best to explain that his tin pets were made in limited numbers, and were just a sideline project in his metalworking trade, Mistress Jugo hadn’t spoken to the family in years. She took Master Kronos’s invention to be the beginning of a slowly unfolding plot to take over the town’s entire toy production. Not to mention that Master Kronos’s pets were a shocking display of his magical ability, which any self-respecting person (in Mistress Jugo’s opinion) would decently keep to himself.
Petra marched steadily to the Sign of Fire, a shop that sold glassware. This store had large, glittering windows made from glass cut into many diamond-shaped panes and fitted together with crisscrossing lines of lead. A few colored bits of glass winked at Petra. A window over the door glowed with the name STAKAN in red letters. This was where her friend Tomik lived with his family.
Petra stepped into the shop, which was empty aside from a tin cat curled up near the doorway. He lazily opened one green eye and then closed it.
“Jaspar, I need to see Tomik. And Master Stakan. It’s important.”
The cat kept his eyes shut and purred. Or snored. It was hard to tell the difference.
Outraged, Astrophil raced down Petra’s arm, but she cupped her hand over him and ignored the sharp jabs his legs made against her palm. The spider disapproved of Jaspar in general, and disliked the cat’s bad manners in particular. “You’ll only make things worse,” Petra hissed.
“Who will make things worse?” Jaspar opened one eye again.
“Astrophil.”
“Who?”
“Astrophil.”
“Who?”
“Me!” The spider squeaked inside Petra’s hand.
“Oh.” The cat snuggled his head under a paw. “He’s not important.”
“But what I have to tell Tomik and his father is.” She tried calling for them. “Tomik! Master Stakan!” The house echoed emptily.
“They’re not here,” Jaspar said. “But why don’t you keep shouting, if you like the exercise?”
“Why don’t you try to be worth the oil you drink!” Astrophil cried.
Jaspar yawned and his teeth glinted like jewels. “Speaking of oil … you wouldn’t happen to have any, would you? I know where you can find Tomas and Tomik, but, sadly, my throat’s a little too parched to tell you.”
Petra sighed. “All right. Tell me where they keep the brassica.”
The cat’s silver needle whiskers were alert. “Try the wooden jug on the top shelf over there.”
She fetched the jug and poured oil into Jaspar’s dish. “Now will you help?”
Jaspar lapped up the oil and gave a metallic meow: “More.”
“Where are they?”
Tomik and his father walked through the door.
“They’re in the shop,” Jaspar said.
“Thanks a lot.” She put the jug back on its shelf.
“Aren’t you an ungrateful girl.” Jaspar curled up and went back to sleep.
Tomik was a year older than Petra. His sandy hair hung in his eyes. He pushed it back from his sweaty forehead. He looked at her uncertainly. Even before Master Stakan spoke, she knew that they knew.