Behemoth (33 page)

“Aye, he’s told me that story more than once,” Deryn said. “It’s just that …”

She tried to think of what to say. Lilit wasn’t a bad sort, really. She was a dab hand with machines, as good at piloting as any of the men. In a way, she’d managed the same trick as Deryn had—acting like a man—without pretending, and that was a splendid sort of anarchy, one had to admit.

But the girl had a habit of turning up whenever Alek and Deryn were alone together, which was barking tiresome.

Why hadn’t Alek mentioned that she was coming along? What other secrets was he keeping about her?

“Is it because I’m a girl?” Lilit asked stiffly.

“Of course not.” Deryn shook her head. “I’m just sleepy, is all.”

Lilit stood there, looking a little cross and waiting to hear more. But Deryn only turned and headed toward the fancy part of town.

The Hotel Hagia Sophia stood, dark and silent, a single gaslight burning above the doorway. Deryn and Alek
watched from the shadows as Lilit made her way inside, the doorman saluting as she passed.

“It seems a bit daft, us
sneaking
in,” Deryn whispered. “Do you really think they’d recognize us?”

“Don’t forget,” Alek said. “If they’ve found my letter, there’ll be a dozen German agents in the lobby, day and night.”

Deryn nodded. That was true enough—any trace of Austria’s missing prince would stir up more ruckus than a stolen taxi.

“She’s meeting us back here.” Alek led Deryn around to a small lane, where rubbish was heaped outside the hotel kitchen door. He and Lilit had done a lot of planning together, it seemed.

Deryn shook the jealous thought from her head. She was a soldier on a mission, not some daft lassie mooning at a village dance.

She crept closer and peeked through a window. It was dark inside the kitchen, the motionless arms of a clockwork dishwasher casting eerie shadows. But after a few minutes a silent shape slipped through the darkness, and the door creaked opened.

“There’s someone at the front desk,” Lilit whispered. “And a man reading in the lobby, so keep quiet.”

As they slipped inside, the scents of cooking filled Deryn’s nose, as delicious as she remembered from her
two days here. Bowls of dates and apricots and waxy yellow potatoes crowded a long and knotted wooden table, a row of aubergines shining purple in the darkness, waiting for the gleaming knives to gut them.

But the smell of paprika made her wince. Zaven had been mixing up spice bombs all day, and Deryn’s eyeballs were still sore.

Lilit led them from the kitchen into a dark and empty dining room. The places were all set, the napkins neatly folded as if guests were about to arrive, and Deryn got the shivery feeling she always did in fancy places.

“There’s a back stair for the servants,” Lilit whispered, heading for a small doorway in the far wall.

The staircase was narrow and pitch-black, and complained at every step. Clanker wood always sounded so ancient and unhappy, like Deryn’s aunties on a damp winter morning. That was what came of chopping down trees instead of fabricating your wood, she supposed.

The three climbed slowly to keep quiet, and it was long minutes later that Lilit led them out into a wide, familiar hallway.

Deryn felt a squick of chill as she passed Alek’s room. What if his letter had been found, and half a dozen Clanker agents were waiting inside?

Lilit stopped two doors farther along, pulling out a key. A moment later they were all standing in a suite as fancy
as Alek’s had been. Deryn wondered again what was so barking important about this letter. Was it really worth spending money on this suite, money that could have gone to the Committee’s walkers?

Lilit pointed. “The balcony.”

Deryn crossed the room and stepped out into the cool of night. Here on the top floor the balconies were almost as wide as the suites themselves. Easy enough to get from one to the next—the sort of jump an airman made every day.

But she turned to Alek and whispered, “If you’d let me in on the barking plan, I could have brought a safety line.”

He smiled. “Lost your air sense already?”

“Hardly.” Deryn put one foot up on the railing, hands out for balance.

Alek turned to Lilit. “Stay here. There might be someone waiting for us.”

“Do you think I can’t fight?”

Deryn paused in her jump, wondering how Alek would answer. Was he more worried about Lilit’s safety than his own? Or didn’t he want a mere girl helping him?

Either would be dead annoying.

“It’s not that you can’t fight,” he said. “But if you’re captured, someone might recognize you as Zaven’s daughter. That would lead the police straight back to the warehouse.”

Deryn blinked—maybe Alek was just being
sensible
.

“What if you two get captured?” Lilit asked.

“Then you’ll have to overthrow the sultan and set us free.”

Lilit fumed a bit, but nodded. “Just be careful, both of you.”

“Don’t worry about us,” Deryn said, and jumped.

She landed on the next balcony with a soft
clang
, then waited to give Alek a hand. He jumped with a grim look on his face, and his hand was shaking a bit when she grabbed it to steady him.

“Who’s lost his air sense now?” she whispered.

“Well, it
is
rather high.”

Deryn snorted. After skylarking at a thousand feet, half a dozen stories was nothing. She crossed the balcony, climbed onto the railing, and jumped again, hardly glancing at the ground.

She gestured for Alek to wait as she peeked inside.

The room was dark, but no one was in sight. Deryn slipped her rigging knife into the crack between the doors to lift the hasp, pushed them open, and listened—nothing.

She slipped inside and stole softly to the bedroom doors. The bed was empty, the covers and the pillows all straight. If anyone had searched this room, they’d cleaned up after themselves.

In fact, the whole suite looked exactly as Deryn
remembered it: the potted plants, the footstool that had been Bovril’s favorite, the low divan she’d slept on while Alek had snored away in the splendor of the bedroom.

She heard a soft
thud
and turned around—Alek was stepping in from the balcony. He pulled a screwdriver from his pocket, heading straight for the shiny brass switchboard on the wall.

“Doesn’t that contraption call the front desk?” she whispered. In her two days here Alek had used the switchboard to call delicious meals up to the room, as if by magic.

“Yes, of course. But I won’t activate it.” His fingers spun, and soon the front panel slipped off into his hands.

He set the panel carefully onto the floor and reached into the Clanker guts of the device. From among the tangle of wires and bells, he pulled out a long cylinder of leather.

Deryn took a step forward, squinting in the darkness.

“It’s my letter,” Alek said. “It’s in a scroll case.”

“A
scroll case
? Someone sent you a barking
scroll?
?”

Alek didn’t answer, slipping the screwdriver back into his pocket.

“Aye, I know—top secret,” she muttered, crossing to the suite’s front door. “We may as well take the hallway. No point testing your air sense again.”

Deryn pressed her ear against the door—no sound at all. But when she looked back at him, Alek was still standing in the same spot, wearing a thoughtful expression.

“Forgot something else?” she whispered. “Another scroll? A bar of platinum?”

“Dylan,” the boy said softly, “before we go back to Lilit, I should tell you something.”

Deryn froze, her hand on the doorknob. “Something about her?”

“About Lilit? Why would I …,” Alek began, but then
his expression broke into a smile. “Ah, you’ve been wondering about her.”

“Aye, a bit.”

Alek chuckled quietly. “Well, she is quite beautiful.”

“I suppose so.”

“I was wondering when you’d notice. You’ve been quite a
Dummkopf
about it. And she’s been trying awfully hard to get you to see.”

“To get
me
to see? But why …” Deryn frowned. “What are we talking about, exactly?”

Alek rolled his eyes. “You’re
still
being a ninny! Haven’t you noticed how much she likes you?”

Deryn’s mouth dropped open, but no sound came out.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Alek said. “She’s liked you from the start. Did you think she had you working on the Spider for your mechanical skills?”

“But—but I thought that you and her …”

“Me? She thinks I’m a perfectly useless aristocrat.” Alek shook his head. “You really are a
Dummkopf
, aren’t you?”

“But she
can’t
like me,” Deryn said. “I’m a … barking airman!”

“Yes, she thinks that’s quite romantic as well. You do have a certain swagger about you, I suppose. And you’re not bad looking, to be sure.”

“Oh, leave off!”

“In fact, when I first met you, I thought, ‘Now,
there’s
the boy I want to be—or would, if I hadn’t been born such a hopeless prince.’”

Deryn glared at Alek, who was clearly enjoying himself now, his eyes glistening with laughter held in check. It made her want to punch him, and yet …

“Do you really think I’m handsome?” she asked.

“Most beguiling, I’m sure. And now that you’ve masterminded the revolution, Lilit’s affections are quite out of control.”

Deryn groaned, shaking her head. She had to put a stop to this, before it got too blistering tricky.

“But we should discuss your romantic life another time.” Alek held up the scroll case. “I need to tell you about this.”

Deryn stared dumbly, trying to force her mind to stop spinning. She could deal with Lilit. It was just a matter of… well, not of telling her the truth, certainly, but of saying
something
sensible.

After all, it was true that women liked an airman’s swagger—Mr. Rigby was always saying so. It was just part of being a soldier. Part of being a
boy
, really. She could make up a story of a girl back home …

“Right, then,” Deryn finally managed. “What’s so barking important about this scroll of yours?”

“Well, it’s like this.” Alek took a slow breath. “Along with our revolution here in Istanbul, I think this letter might end the war.”

The boy just looked at him, speechless again.

Standing there in the dark, Alek could hear his own heart pounding. Getting those first words out had taken all the willpower he possessed.

But now that Volger was gone, bearing the secret alone was too much. And Dylan had proven himself loyal a dozen times over.

“It’s from the Holy Father,” Alek said, holding up the scroll case.

It took Dylan a moment, but then he said, “You mean, the
pope
?”

Alek nodded. “It changes the terms of my parents’ marriage, making me my father’s heir. I suppose I’ve been lying to you—I’m not just a prince.”

“Then you’re … an archduke?”

“I’m the archduke of Austria-Este, royal prince of
Hungary and Bohemia. When my granduncle dies, it may be that I can stop this war.”

Dylan’s eyes slowly widened. “Because you’ll be the barking emperor!”

Alek sighed, crossing to the large chair with tasseled arms that had been his favorite. He fell into it, suddenly exhausted.

He’d rather missed this hotel room, with all its Levantine splendor. In the week of hiding here he’d felt …
in command
for the first time in his life, with no tutors or mentors to appease. But now he’d joined a committee of revolutionaries, and had to argue over every detail.

“It’s complicated. Franz Joseph has named another successor, but he chose my father first.” Alek looked at the crossed keys on the leather case, a sign of papal authority that no faithful Austrian could ignore. “This document might throw the succession into doubt, if the war is going badly and the people
want
change. My father used to say, ‘A country with two kings will always falter.’”

“Aye,” Dylan said, coming closer. “And if there’s been a revolution here, then Germany will be completely alone!”

Alek smiled. “Not such a
Dummkopf
after all, are you?”