Neel’s eyes widened. He instantly recognized the power of Petra’s so-called weakness. “So you really could have sussed out my hiding place.”
“Of course,” said Astophil.
“Is that why”—Neel touched Petra’s nose again with one ghostly finger—“you can feel that? Because you can sense hidden things?”
“Yes.”
Neel drew his hand away and wrapped it around a limb of the tree. The rough bark felt comforting under his suddenly nervous fingers. Why should he feel nervous? Because of what Petra had told him? Surely not because he had touched her. He had done the same exact thing only a half an hour ago and it had made him laugh.
That time, though, it had been a joke. This time it wasn’t.
Neel cleared his throat. “I’ve always wondered. You shouldn’t feel the ghosts, you know. No one else does.”
“Petra is special,” Astrophil said proudly.
“Sure,” said Neel. “Sure she is.” His voice sounded too cheery to his ears. Brassy, like he had polished it up to shine. “Me, too. And special Neel had better get his special self back to the palace, else the court’s going to get pleased at the thought that I’ve drowned in the sea or run off. Well.” Neel squared his shoulders. “Time to be kingly.”
* * *
NEEL WAS ALONE in his bedroom when Tomik barged in, his eyes blazing with fear.
“The globes?” Neel asked. “Did you—?”
“You’d better call the court. You need to tell them what I’ve done.”
* * *
THE COURTIERS SHIFTED RESENTFULLY. They’d already gotten a taste of their king’s love of theatrical announcements. They eyed his pet Bohemians, standing close to his side, and wished he were a great deal less attached to these outsiders. They also wished he were less whimsical. And dangerous. And completely disrespectful of them and his own office.
In fact, they wished he didn’t exist at all.
“Tribe leaders, step forward.” The king rapped his golden scepter against the marble floor. “Ursari, Lovari, and Maraki—oh, yes, you, too, Tarn. Don’t you ignore me. Get on up here.” He crooked his finger, and the three leaders dragged their sullen feet to the dais on which the throne stood. “I’ve got presents for you.” He waved his hand in a flourish, and Tomik stepped forward, a large wooden box in his hands. Tomik opened it, and inside were several smaller boxes. He gave one to each of the leaders, then passed the large box to Neel.
Tarn cracked open his box, and the barely contained anger on his face changed to puzzlement.
“Well,” said the king, “don’t you like your prezzies?”
“I don’t understand.” Tarn tipped the box and spilled two small glass spheres into the palm of his hand. “What are these?”
“Globes.” Neel’s grin was proud and wicked. “Happy now, aren’t you?”
“The globes are dead. He”—Tarn gestured at Tomik—“destroyed them.”
“Only in order to find out how they work,” said Tomik, “and to reproduce them. The globes had glass centers that marked the exact location of a Loophole and could guide someone through it. I melted the centers, and molded five pairs of smaller spheres from them. I’ve got a magic gift for glass.”
“He’s also smarter than a pack of foxes,” said Neel.
“The globes were big, and there was only one set,” Tomik continued. “They weren’t exactly easy to share, or easily transportable. What if you wanted to travel somewhere by horse, or on foot? Can you imagine lugging those two huge spheres everywhere? Now you don’t have to. Each box contains a map that shows—just like the Terrestrial Globe used to show—the general location of all the Loopholes in the world. Go to one of the places marked by a dot on the map, touch it, and another dot will light up. That’ll show you where the Loophole will take you. Then the spheres will float, and position themselves by the exact opening of the Loophole. You can travel from here to China, from there to the North Sea … anywhere a Loophole goes, in the blink of an eye.”
“Every tribe gets a set.” The king plucked a small box out of the larger one. “Me, too, since I’m the Kalderash leader, and your wise and canny king. And Tom, of course. That’s the price for his work.” Neel passed the last small box to Tomik, who gave it to Petra.
She curled her hands around it, and the face she turned to Tomik was so raw with feeling that many people looked away—including, oddly enough, the king.
Neel’s chief adviser leaned forward to whisper in his ear. “Couldn’t you have explained your plan earlier,” Arun said, “during your ridiculous, politically disastrous gift of the globes to Tomik at your coronation?”
“I could’ve,” Neel hissed back, “but that wouldn’t have been smart. See, now when I make a mistake—and I’m bound to, it can happen to anyone, and what do I know about being king?—people will think I’ve got something up my sleeve, just like this time. That’ll give me time to fix whatever mess I’ve got on my hands. Smart, huh?” Neel tapped his temple.
Arun raised a skeptical brow, then turned his sharp gaze toward the Bohemians. “Why does that young lad look so frightened?”
Neel glanced at Tomik and bit his lip. “I suppose because he knows it’s time to leave.”
* * *
NEEL WAS SINGING as he strolled along the palace wall through the darkness. He knew lots of drinking songs in several languages, and even though he hadn’t touched a drop of the sweet island wine, he sang them all, feeling drunk with success.
And a little anxious, though he tried to ignore this. Now that the miniature globes were ready, Petra and Tomik would leave the Vatra.
Which meant that it was time for Neel to leave, too.
He sang more loudly and swaggered through the warm night. His sandals made a slight rasp over the stones, and Neel guessed that the palace wall was sprinkled with reddish brown dust he couldn’t see. The wind carried it sometimes. Depending on which way it blew, a breeze would dust different parts of the palace. The palace servants were quick to clean, though, and they hated this dust, especially because it stained clothes. Come morning there wouldn’t be a speck of dust on this wall. Nothing to see—not that Neel could see much now, in these shadows.