“Sister, suggestions are merely ideas. They are of questionable worth.”
“What is it?” Petra stepped forward. “What is your suggestion?”
The Meti’s voice fell to a whisper. “If you have questions about a creation, it is always best to ask the creator.”
“That’s my answer?” Petra said incredulously.
“Yes.”
“That makes no sense!” Then Petra’s mouth slammed shut as she realized that, yes, it did. She turned toward Tomik. Her silver eyes glinted with the fire of a dangerous idea.
“I know exactly what we’re going to do,” Petra said. “We’re returning to Bohemia, and we’re going to kidnap Fiala Broshek.”
7
The Waterfall
FOR DAYS, Tomik tried to reason with Petra, but she only grew more impatient that they weren’t already on their way back to Bohemia to carry out her insane plan.
“Kidnapping one of the prince’s inventors?” he said. “Really, Petra.”
“Fiala Broshek isn’t going to cure my father willingly,” she said. “All she cares about is cutting people up, creating monsters, and pleasing the prince. So some force will have to be involved. And that’s what I learned during those months in England: how to use force.” She flexed her fingers on the hilt of her invisible sword.
“I thought you were learning how to control and improve your two magical gifts,” said Astrophil, “and the ways of being sly. Not how to trample and storm your way into sure captivity.”
“You sound like John Dee.”
“You might want to take a page from his book,” said Astrophil.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you might want to try being like him, for Dee is far too clever to plunge headlong into danger without a well-considered plan.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do,” she said. “Come up with a plan. But neither of you is helping.”
“Only because you want to do the impossible,” said Tomik. “The instant you set foot in Bohemia you become a prime target for the prince. He wants to keep you in his court like some kind of prize pet—if he doesn’t change his mind and have your head chopped off in a public square. Plus, we are thousands of miles from Prague. How would we even get there?”
“We’ll steal a ship.”
He gaped at her. “And sail it how?”
“You could sail it.”
Though secretly flattered at her confidence in him, Tomik said, “You know full well it takes at least half a dozen people to sail a ship big enough to brave the ocean. Are you ignoring facts because they get in the way of what you want?”
“Yes,” said Astrophil.
Tomik exchanged a look with him. He suspected that the spider had already had many private arguments with Petra.
“You’re not taking me seriously!” she accused. “Neither of you.”
“I am, Petra,” said Tomik. “That’s the problem.”
“I’ll go to Prague,” she said through gritted teeth, “if I have to walk there.”
“How?” he said to her turned back. “On the waves? We’re on an island!”
She stalked away, her shoulders high and stiff.
Soon it became clear to Tomik that they had another problem, and it involved Neel. He was nowhere to be seen, but Tomik knew Neel well enough to guess at his feelings. Neel wouldn’t relish the thought of being kept like a high card up someone’s sleeve—even if it was a queen’s sleeve—and then slapped down on the table of Roma politics to beat all the other players. Neel was himself an incorrigible cheater at cards, but the last thing a trickster likes is to see his own tricks played on him.
When Tomik and Petra tired of arguing about whether to return to Prague, they would argue about hunting for Neel. Petra insisted on finding him.
“He wants to be alone,” Tomik said. “We should respect that.”
Petra fell silent for a moment, and Tomik entertained the astonishing thought that he had persuaded her—stubborn, fiery Petra—of something. Then, in a low voice, she said, “It’s not always easy to understand what someone wants. What’s important is for us to show Neel that we are there for him. We are his friends, whether he’s the Romany king or just Neel. How will he know that, if we don’t tell him?”
Tomik glanced at Astrophil. The spider slightly lifted two legs, like someone might raise his brows in surprise.
“Let’s look for him on the beach,” Tomik said.
But Neel was not on the beach, nor by the tide pools in the heart of the island’s jungle, nor on the city streets that spiraled up the mountain.
They found him high on a palace wall, tossing small, puffy animals down the waterfall that poured from the cliff on which the palace stood. The creatures squealed as they fell.
“Neel!” Tomik shouted. “What are you doing?”
They ran to him, and Petra snatched a furry animal out of Neel’s hands. “I know you’re upset,” she said, “but—”
“The scoots like it,” said Neel, startled. The fuzzball squirmed out of Petra’s hands, bounced onto the stone railing, and leaped off into thin air. “It’s how they learn to fly.”
Tomik and Petra saw the falling scoot puff out, then puff further, then puff into a balloon shape that caught the wind and sailed toward the trees.
“A scoot.” Astrophil peered at one clambering up Neel’s leg. “I have never heard of a scoot. And I have read many books on zoology.”
“Yeah, but your gadje books say zero about the Vatra.” One of the scoots clung to Neel’s shoulder. “This fellow ain’t keen to jump. Guess he’s not ready yet.” The scoot nuzzled his ear.
“Maybe he just likes you,” said Petra. “Like we do, Neel.”
He looked at her. “Oh.” He smiled slowly. “Well, course you do.”
Tomik knew that cocky attitude came when Neel was at his most vulnerable, so he kept his patience and said only, “Will you stop hiding from us now?”
“I’m not hiding from you. I’m hiding from everybody.”
“We know that you need to make a decision—”
“To accept the queen’s offer to be her heir,” said Petra, “or turn it down. But she can’t make you be king, can she?”