They were both quiet for a moment. Neel ducked his head down and continued eating his stew in silence.
Perhaps, Astrophil offered, he is wondering what he has gotten himself into. Might you not do the same?
Neel settled back in his wooden chair and patted his stomach. There was still a very small portion of stew left in his bowl. “That was good. Well, I’d better find the privy. I’ll finish eating when I get back.” He winked.
Petra looked at the bowl and suddenly remembered, as Neel was getting up, the empty pockets he had shown the officer. He started to turn away.
Her hand flashed out and seized one of Neel’s wrists. “You can just go in your trous,” she said angrily. She was sure he was about to leave her behind. He would slip out the back and she would never see him again. She would have to pay the bill and walk out of the Shorn Lamb alone, and wander this crowded, stinking city alone.
Astonished, Neel sat back down in his chair and shook off her grip. He hissed, “What’s the matter with you? Always resorting to a ruckus. You’re attracting attention, jumping around like you’re full of fleas. And that” —he wagged his finger at her—“will always get you caught. Always.”
Petra glared. She was in no mood for a lesson in thievery.
“Listen, I’m sorry,” Neel said. “I’ll let you leave the pub first. It’s harder to leave second, cause then you leave an empty table and folks notice. It’s true it wasn’t decent of me to leave you in second, because I’m more experienced. So you go on ahead and I’ll follow after.” He gestured toward the exit in a manner that might have been called courtly.
Petra felt a little better knowing that he had not been planning to trick her, but she was still troubled. “What about the people who work here? Don’t they deserve pay?”
He sighed. “Maybe those who can’t look after what they got don’t deserve to keep it.”
Neel’s words made her think instantly of her father and his stolen eyes. By Neel’s logic, her father’s blindness was not a cruel torture. It was something he had brought upon himself.
Petra had not cried once since the day her father was brought home in the cart, and she refused to do so in front of this lithe and untrustworthy thief. She had to get out of the tavern. Right then she felt like a sheet of thin paper soaked with dirty water, and just one more drop could make her disintegrate into shreds.
Petra reached for her purse and beckoned to the tattooed woman. “I’ll pay. Just go.”
He stared. Then, to her surprise, he ducked under the table and seemed to rummage for something. Just as the woman reached them, he straightened up and held out a filthy coin. “We’ll go halves.” He smiled at her expression. “Always keep your money in your shoes, Pet. It’s nigh impossible to nick it that way.”
After they had paid, Petra walked quickly through the airless rooms, eager for the open warmth of the sun. Neel was close at her heels. When the heavy pub door slammed shut behind them, he continued to trail after her. She wasn’t sure which way to go, but she didn’t care.
“What’s got you so riled?” he shouted at her as they pushed past a swell of people. It was noon, and the streets of the city were bursting with noise and bustling bodies. “I paid, didn’t I?” When Petra did not respond, Neel’s voice rose in frustration. “Fine, I get it. You got some high-minded ideas about what’s right. That’s because you can afford them. Me, I got a family of fiddlers and puppeteers, and only my sis can get real work because her skin is light enough. So I’ll take what I can get and if that’s stew that’s fine by me. I’m glad that you told the scratch what you did and saved me from a hanging, but I’ve got no need to keep company with some hoity-toity type.”
Petra stopped abruptly. “Then why are you following me?”
Neel spread his hands. “I just happen to be going the same way as you. Aren’t I allowed to go meet my sis? Cause she’ll tear my hide if I don’t.”
Petra did not want to reveal that she did not know where she was going. So instead she asked, “Where are you meeting your sister?”
“Why, at the castle. That’s where she works.”
Petra paused. “Your sister works at the castle?”
“That’s what I said, ain’t it?”
They had stopped in the middle of the street. People milled around them, jostling their sides. “Keep moving!” shrilled a woman with rash-red cheeks.
Neel tugged Petra to the side of the street, where they stood against a wall that smelled of wood rot. Petra asked the boy, “Is Neel your real name?”
“Well, no.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away.
It was as Petra had thought. He couldn’t even be trusted to be honest about the most trivial thing.
He continued, “It’s Indraneel. It means ‘blue.’ But I’m not blue, and ‘Indraneel’ isn’t easy to wrap your mouth around. So it’s plain ‘Neel’ for me.”
Petra then said, “Would you introduce me to your sister?”
11
Crossing Karlov Bridge
THEY SOON REACHED the Vltava River. There they crossed the Karlov Bridge, which was a magnificent construction lined with statues of Bohemia’s heroes. The bridge was brand-new. Prince Rodolfo had commissioned it to celebrate his graduation from the Academy. He had named the bridge after his father. Some might say that this was unnecessary. After all, he had already changed the name of Argos University to Karlov University when he was thirteen or so. But one can never flatter an emperor too much.
Neel had no idea who any of the statues were supposed to be. He confessed that, like many Roma, he couldn’t read, and didn’t know much about Bohemian history. “Who cares about gadje history anyway? My people got better stories.”
Petra had to admit that this might be true. But she gladly told him about the statues. It was rare for her to be in the position of teaching anyone something.
“Who’s that moony-eyed lass?” He pointed to a statue of a woman holding a pail of water high.
“That’s Lady Portia. Eight hundred years ago, people used to burn anyone with magical powers at the stake. She convinced the Tribunal of the Lion’s Paw that this sort of thing had to be outlawed.”
“What’s the Tribunal of the Lion’s Paw?”