She took a wizened apple from the kitchen fruit bin and sawed some bread from a stale loaf. She would have liked a mug of warm milk, but starting a fire in the stove would take far too much effort. Petra arranged a slice of cow cheese on the tough bread and bit into it.
“In some societies,” Astrophil informed her, “it would never cross anyone’s mind to eat cheese. To them it would be nothing but spoiled milk.”
“Too bad for them,” Petra replied, chewing. The bread tasted like tree bark, but at least the cheese was fresh.
When she finished eating, she tiptoed down the stairs and through the shop.
Petra held the bell on the door frame so that it wouldn’t ring as she slipped outside. The cold air hit her. She pulled the hat down over her ears, breathed deeply, and her head seemed to clear. Maybe she would be able to shake off her bad mood. Maybe the day was salvageable after all.
Her boots had crunched over just a few yards of snow when it began to rain. Astrophil ducked under her hair. Petra looked up at the falling drops. “Oh, perfect.” She thought about going back into the house but then changed her mind. Petra drew the cloak tightly about her and trudged on.
“YOUR HIGHNESS, the prisoner has broken.”
“And?” replied the young prince. “What have you learned?”
“He still claims that he doesn’t know the name of the Gypsy who participated in the theft in November.”
“No matter.” Prince Rodolfo tried to control his irritation. “We will find out the boy’s name the hard way. Sweep my country clear of this Gypsy trash.”
“We’ve already begun to do this, Your Highness. As you recall, you ordered us last month to begin arresting Prague’s Gypsies for questioning.”
“I am not forgetful.” The prince’s voice was even but dangerous, like thin ice covering a deep pond. “I want you to have all of Bohemia searched for Gypsies. You know their ways. They travel everywhere, and quickly, like a disease. Watch our borders. Do not let them leave, and do not block the borders from those who wish to enter. Imprison them as well.
“Now, as for Jarek: I hope you have gleaned some useful information from him?”
“Yes, Your Highness. He has confirmed your suspicions. The girl who stole from the Cabinet of Wonders was not working for your brothers. It was Petra Kronos, the clockmaker’s daughter.”
The prince remembered the girl: a tall, unlovely thing who had scarcely pretended to be afraid of him.
Well, she would learn.
“I want there to be no mistakes,” the prince said. “Send the Gristleki.”
The guard flinched.
“Did you hear me?” the prince hissed. “Send the Gray Men.”
The guard jerked his head in a nod. “Yes, Your Highness. What should I do with the prisoner?”
“Let them start with him. They are hungry.”
2
The Sparrow
AS PETRA PLOWED up the snowy hill, she couldn’t have known what was speeding across the countryside toward her. Nothing could have prepared her to imagine the Gray Men, who loped like wolves under the trees, their clawed feet running almost as quickly as a bird flies.
When Petra and Astrophil had reached the forest, the spider said, “Perhaps you could try talking to him.”
“Try talking to who?”
“The link John Dee made between your mind and his should be accessible by both of you. Neel said that such links are used between generals and soldiers, and between criminal allies. Surely forging a connection like that is valuable only if each person can mentally reach the other. Instead of waiting for Dee to contact you, you could try contacting him.”
“I could try eating rotten goat intestines, but I’m not going to,” Petra scoffed. “And let’s get one thing straight: I’m not waiting for that man to pay a visit to my mind as if it were his summer cottage. My thoughts are my own. Not his.”
“A mental link does not allow him to read your mind,” Astrophil said. “When you and I speak using our thoughts, I hear only what you say to me, not your inner secrets. A mental link is simply a form of communication. You know this already. Neel explained it to us in Prague. You are just being difficult.”
Petra pushed through the pine trees, and green bristles showered her with freezing water. She yelped.
“Petra, we are all worried about what the prince knows of you, and how he will react. It is not as if you lost one of his papers while cleaning his study. You broke into his prized collection of magnificent and magical objects, took your father’s eyes—”
“They didn’t belong to the prince! Now they are back where they belong, and Father can see.”
“You also stole a small fortune of gold and jewels—”
“Neel did that. Not me.”
“—and managed to destroy a hidden part of the Staro Clock that Master Kronos built, a part that would have allowed the prince to use the clock to control the weather, thereby wielding an enormous amount of power over all of Europe.”
“That’s right. You’d think someone would thank me for it.”
They reached a clearing. The ground was rocky and uneven, and the space wasn’t as large as the one she preferred to use, but that spot of woods was a mile ahead. She squinted at the rain. She would stay here. “All right, Astro: tree or ear?”
He clung to her earlobe tightly. “I am quite fine where I am, thank you. I believe it may be useful for me to learn how to be part of a skirmish. I could be an extra set of eyes. I could warn you if an enemy approaches. Plus . . . it is raining.”
“Tin doesn’t rust, Astro.”
“Even so, the brim of your hat makes a nice umbrella.”
Petra pulled at something by her left hip. There was a scraping sound, and her closed fist arced in the air. Raindrops plinked and halted in a horizontal line in front of her. Petra’s fingers grasped the hilt of something long, thin, and wickedly sharp. It was a sword, and an invisible one at that.
Astrophil cleared his throat. “To return to my point—”
“I wish you wouldn’t.”
“—the prince is not likely to reward you with sugar plums for your actions. Once he learns who you are and, thus, where you are—”
“I know, Astrophil. Why do you think Josef, Dita, and David are halfway to Sumava by now?”