“Why ever shouldn’t we?”
“Well, what’d we take him aboard for, if it wasn’t to keep the Loophole secret? We didn’t want him spouting off to the Bohemian hill folk about it. So do we really want him telling his new master in Sallay?”
“He’s not going to tell his new master anything. Somehow, I don’t think he speaks Arabic.”
“He seems like a quick study, though. Won’t take him long to learn.”
“Who cares if he does? By the time our blue-eyed angel knows how to say ‘Yes, sir,’ we’ll have the globe, and we’ll know where all the Loopholes in the world are, and how to get through them. Then it’ll be fine by me if some Sallay gent knows how to find one hidden beach. And we’ll earn a nice purse of gold for selling the boy.” Treb frowned at his cousin. “You know all of this. And you’re too canny to worry about it.” He pulled the pipe from his lips and jabbed it at the boy. “Don’t try to fool me, coz. I can see through playacting just as surely as I can spy a gull on the horizon. Something else is eating at you. Out with it.”
“It’s just . . . Treb, it isn’t right. Our people were slaves once, long ago in the desert. What sense is it for us to sell somebody else on an auction block?”
Treb choked, coughing out smoke. “Oh, laddie.” He pounded his chest. “And here I thought you were almost a man, not a wide-eyed baby still clinging to his ma’s skirts. You feel sorry for our prize gadje? And what do you think he’d do in our shoes? What do you think all of Bohemia is doing to our people?” Treb’s astonishment was turning into anger. “How many Roma have been locked up already in the jail cells of Salamander Castle? Where is Bohemia’s mercy to us? You’re lucky your clan left Prague a month ago. You shouldn’t be whining over the fate of a gadje. You should be glad that your family’s safe.”
“Not my sis,” the boy mumbled.
“It’s thanks to her that we have the information we do. Who else has an inside look into the dealings of Salamander Castle? She’s in a risky situation, to be sure, but she’s doing her part. And don’t worry: no one looking at her would guess she’s a Roma. Sadie’s lovely pale skin’ll save her.”
The boy shot his captain a dirty look.
“That was kindly meant, coz. Sadie’s as much of my blood as you are. More, even.”
The boy snarled, “So I’m only your cousin when you need me, is that it? And when you’re searching for something to fling in my face, I’m just some foundling brat your aunt took in. I won’t be both, so you better decide which way you want to see me, coz.” He began to stalk away.
Treb snagged him by the shoulder. “I didn’t mean that. But Neel, Neel, don’t fret over a gadje as if you were his nursemaid! I can’t think straight when you talk so foolishly. You make me say things I regret. You’ve got a good heart, but it’s misplaced. Remember, there’s us and there’s them. It’s an ugly fact, but a true one, and as old as history. If you haven’t learned that lesson yet, you’d better learn it now.”
NEEL STOOD on the platform midway up the main mast, working the topsail. Next to him, Tas pulled and loosened the ropes, helping swing the sail into the right position to catch the wind.
It was a fine day. The wind was strong, and the salt air smelled so fresh Neel wanted to eat it. The muscles in his arms sprang up as he hauled on the sail.
With unease, Neel recalled his conversation with Treb, though he knew he shouldn’t. If Treb had slipped and showed he thought his loony aunt from the Lovari tribe might have made some mistakes in having a half-gadje daughter and adopting a stranger’s illegitimate son, Neel was used to this. Treb was only saying out loud what almost everybody thought. But what really got to Neel, and what made him grip the rope hard, was Treb’s suggestion that he wasn’t true to his people.
So Neel was in no mood to listen when Andras asked him for a favor.
Andras stood below on deck, his bald head and powerful shoulders gleaming in the sun. “Neel!” he hollered up the mast.
“Yeah?” Neel shouted back.
“I need you to do something.”
“What?”
“Swap jobs with me.”
“Huh? You’re off duty.”
“Well . . . I’ve been watching over the Bohemian.”
“And you want to swap that? No way, Andras.” Neel laughed. “I’d rather be working the topgallant sail. I’d rather be up in the crow’s nest. I’d rather be in the brig, so long as that gadje wasn’t in there with me.”
“Oh, he’s not half-bad.”
Neel hooted.
“Honest.” Andras spread his hands. “I wouldn’t mind spending time with him, but he’s real inquisitive. Keeps asking all kinds of questions, and my Czech’s not good enough to understand even a small part of what he’s saying. Poor lad’s been swiped from his home. Least you could do is come down and explain to him what’s going on.”
“Nope. Not me.”
Andras glared, his wrinkles cutting so deeply that they looked like scars. “I’m giving you an order.”
“And you know where you can stick it.”
“I outrank you!”
“I outsmart you.”
Andras put his fists on his hips. “Don’t make me come up there and shake you out of your tree.”
“So Blue Eyes has got questions, does he? I should say so. But. I. Don’t. Care. Find somebody else to hold his hand. I can’t figure why you’re bugging me to do it.”
“You speak Czech better than anyone on this boat.”
Neel shrugged and hauled on a rope. Treb spoke Czech as well as he did. Andras was just trying to flatter him. Well, it wouldn’t work.
“And,” Andras said with a wicked note in his voice, “we all know how fond you are of Bohemians. Why, who hasn’t heard about your girl—”
“Friend!” Neel yelped. “She’s a friend!”
“Ooo—ooo,” Tas cooed.
Even the sailors clinging to the other mast were paying attention now.
“Argh!” Neel dropped the rope in his hands.
Tas swore, fumbling with his rope as the sail swung wide.
“Neel!” Treb was striding up the deck. “What in the name of the four tribes are you doing to my topsail?”