The Cabinet of Wonders: The Kronos Chronicles: Book I (24 page)

N
EEL WAS FURIOUS.
“Where
were
you? I waited until dawn!” He pounced out of the cellar shadows the evening after the celebrations, as servants milled into the dining hall, still red-eyed from too much drinking and too little sleep. Petra didn’t even have a chance to ask how he had gotten inside the castle. He yanked open a door she had never noticed before, pulled her upstairs and outside onto the grounds, and dragged her behind an enormous woodpile.

“Well, I—” She tried to speak.

“I thought maybe something happened to you! Or did you get scared? You did, didn’t you? That was
stupid,
Pet. We had a prime opportunity last night!”

“I wasn’t scared! I—”

Neel’s eyes burned with yellow-green fire. “Don’t tell me,” he said slowly, “that you went
alone.”

“Not exactly.”

“So you did. I see. Just like a cat carrying a mouse to her own secret corner, aren’t you? Didn’t think I deserved a bite, did you?”

“That’s not it. That’s not it at all. I was trying to … Neel, it isn’t safe for you.”

Sudden understanding turned Neel’s face into a wooden mask. Petra hurriedly explained what had happened in the forest after he had walked ahead to the Lovari camp. She told him about Emil and his fierce desire to protect Neel.

“And you listened to him?” Neel exploded. “Emil’s the last person who’s got
any
call to have
any
say over what I do! He ain’t my brother or my father!”

“Emil’s right, Neel. You heard what the captain of the guard said. You heard about those people. I shouldn’t have gotten you involved.”

He was too angry to speak.

Then a snowflake drifted past his face. Another one appeared out of the gray sky, landed on Neel’s nose, and disappeared.

“Petra.” Neel’s voice didn’t sound angry anymore, just tired. “You’ve got to do something for me.”

“What?”

“You’ve got to take one minute—
one minute—to
stop being so …” He grew frustrated. “So
sunora.”

Petra wasn’t used to being called names she didn’t understand. She folded her arms across her chest and frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so
green.
I know you’re not used to the ways of life around here, but you’ve got to
think.
If pinching the purse of some hill-bred nobody would get me sent to the gallows, what do you think is going to happen when the prince finds out that a bunch of Gypsies have been eating his deer, eating his conies, and living on his own hunting grounds? He won’t think twice about turning us all into dust in the captain’s vial. How long is it going to take before that happens?” He flung his hand into the sky and the snowflakes sifting down. “You got your reasons for wanting what’s inside the Cabinet. I got mine. Leastways I know that if things
don’t go our way and I get caught, what’ll happen to me will happen just to
me.”

Astrophil cleared his throat. “And Petra.”

“Right. So no more second-guessing.” Neel took a small knife from his pocket and cut his palm. “Swear.” He passed her the knife and held up his left hand, where a thin line of blood shone.

Petra, you know the rules of a blood oath,
Astrophil warned.
Maybe you should—

“I do swear.” She cut her palm. Ignoring the sting, she grasped Neel’s bloody, dirty hand.

Astrophil sighed.

“Good.” Neel shook her hand for good measure. “Now let’s talk sense.”

“Let me tell you what happened last night.” Petra began to relate the conversation that had taken place between her and John Dee. She held back any details concerning the clock. As she spoke, the two of them leaned against the woodpile, shivering under the white sky.

“He made you scry?” Neel frowned.

“Yes.”

“What did you see?”

“Nothing. At least, I don’t think I saw anything.”

“You might not’ve. That might not’ve been what he wanted.”

Petra gave him a searching look. “What do you know about scrying?”

“Nothing. Well, nothing much. But the Roma are good at mind-magic—foretelling, scrying, and the like. As far as I know, asking someone to look at a shiny bit of something doesn’t always mean you want to know the truth about the present or the past. There’s other stuff a scryer can do.”

“Like drive someone insane.”

“There’s that, too.” He peered at her and smiled. “Looks like you got all your marbles, though.”

She felt a pang of homesickness when he said this. She missed Tomik. She missed Okno. She missed her family.

Neel was pensive. “I’ve got to ask Drabardi about this. But tell me: how come this Dee knows stuff about you? Did he drop a word about me? Or Astro?”

“No,” Astrophil said to Neel. “But he is a difficult man to read. He acted as if he was being honest. Even too honest. But listening to him speak is like seeing the curve of a tree root just above the ground. You can see only one piece, and you have no idea what the rest of the root looks like, how far down it goes, and how far it stretches out under the earth.”

“Is he a friend of your da’s?”

“
No
,” Petra said, insulted. “He’s a
spy”

“No need to get all prickly. I was just asking. Because it’s weird that some foreign gentleman is offering to help you. Give me that bottle of bella-whatsit.” Neel took the brown bottle from her. He opened it, sniffed the liquid, and put a little on his tongue. Then, before Petra could stop him, he tipped back his head and let a drop fall into one eye.

“Neel!”

“That could be poisonous!” Astrophil cried, wringing four legs.

“Well, yeah. Why do you think I put it in only one eye?” He blinked, and belladonna ran down his face like a black tear.

Petra groaned. “If the poison’s strong enough, that won’t matter! You didn’t have to do that! I was going to test it in the laboratory before I tried using it.”

“You know how to tell if something’s poisonous?”

“Not exactly, but if belladonna is made from a mineral, I —” She broke off, startled to see that John Dee’s gift was working just
like he said it would. The pupil in Neel’s right eye swelled like a small black balloon. Soon Neel looked very odd indeed, with one black eye and one yellow. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Laughing at me when I might drop dead? That’s a fine thank-you.” He continued to blink. “Well, I’m not dead. And I’m not blind. So I guess your potion’s all right.” He passed back the bottle.

As Petra took it, she considered the sight of his mismatched eyes. She ran her thumb along the shallow cut in her palm, which was already beginning to crust over. A blood oath is a promise to protect your friend’s life as much as your own, and to keep no secrets between you. It’s a way of making a friend family.

“Neel, why haven’t you told anyone at the castle about us? Or about my father’s notebook? You would probably get a reward. I know you’ve thought about it.”

“Someone like me wouldn’t exactly get a private meeting with the prince. So who would I tell? The captain of the guard? And a right pleasant fellow he is. First thing he’d do is chuck my Gypsy hide into the nearest jail cell and claim any reward for himself.”

“So you
have
thought about it,” she accused.

“I can’t help thinking. But it ain’t my style to betray the ladies. Or spiders.” He nodded at Astrophil.

She scowled. “I can’t believe you even
thought
about it. I trusted you.”

“I know.” He thrust his hands in his pockets and looked down. “I’m not used to that. The fact that you trust me … well, it makes me want to be someone you can trust.”

They were silent.

I should tell him about the clock, Astro.

You promised your father you would tell nobody,
he said.

I know.

This is unlike you, Petra. You never break your word.

I know. But I’ve taken a blood oath, and—

I tried to stop you,
Astrophil interrupted.
If you make too many promises, one of them is bound to crash into another, and then one of them is bound to break.

If Neel’s going to risk his life, he needs to know everything about the situation. I have to think about what Father would say now, if he were right here. I think he would want Neel to know.

Astrophil shook his head.
Petra, if your father were here right now, he would want you and Neel to be as far away from Salamander Castle as your feet could take you.

But Petra had made up her mind. “Neel, I know why Dee wants to help me.” The snow was now falling in fat clusters. The flakes floated in the breeze like goose down as Petra told him about the clock and its powers. “So now Dee’s ordering me to make sure the clock can never work to control the weather. Dee wants to impress his redheaded queen … and stop Prince Rodolfo from taking over Europe,” she added, reluctant to acknowledge that there was good in Dee’s plan.

Neel whistled. “Always knew there was something special about the Staro Clock. But what’s Dee thinking? How does he figure you’re going to break into the Cabinet of Wonders
and
bust the clock, when the Cabinet’s in the castle and the clock’s across the sopping river? It’s not possible.”

“There’s a special part of the clock that will make it work to control the weather,” Petra clarified. “Dee thinks it’s in the Cabinet of Wonders. Right now the prince doesn’t understand how to assemble the final piece. We have to find that piece, whatever it is, and destroy or steal it.” She shook her head. “But that’s impossible, too. We don’t even know what it looks like.”

“What about your da’s notebook? Maybe something’s in there. Some clue about this missing part Dee wants you to find.”

“I don’t know. I looked at it, but there were just those baffling equations, ordinary blueprints, and some drawings that didn’t have
anything to do with the clock. I don’t think that a sketch of a ship without sails can help us. Still, you’re right. We should look at the notebook again.”

He nodded. “I got it safe in the
vurdon.
In our wagon, I mean. We can study it on our next day off.”

“I don’t think we can wait until then,” Petra said darkly. “Father was so
sure
that the prince wouldn’t be able to figure out how to make the clock work the way he wants it to. Father said that it would always be just a beautiful time-telling device and nothing more. But the way Dee was talking, you’d think that Prince Rodolfo is inches away from discovering my father’s secret.”

“Maybe you should believe your da.”

“I
do
believe him,” she spluttered. “Do you think I want to follow Dee’s orders? I’d rather listen to my father. My father told me that the clock isn’t my concern. And it isn’t. It
shouldn’t
be. I don’t care what happens to it.” But her last words sounded like a lie Petra was desperately trying to believe.

Neel cocked his head and gave her a half smile.

“Fine,” she admitted. “Maybe I care.”

“I bet the prince can’t make the clock work the way he wants to anyway. There’s a Lovari tale …”

“Neel, don’t you think it’s a little cold for fairy tales?” It had grown dark. Petra’s teeth chattered, her stomach growled for dinner, and snow gathered at their feet.

“Oh, I do not know,” Astrophil interjected. “I am not so cold.”

“Of course you’re not, you’re made of metal!”

“It’s a quick tale,” Neel promised. “There once was a Lovari named Camlo, and he was a fiddler like no other. He carved himself a fine fiddle. It was smooth and curved and strung with twangy strings. It made a music that was wild and free, and folks from all over would come to listen. Well, one day he was fiddling in the forest and the devil came up. He was right pleased by the music, and
he fell to thinking that if he had Camlo’s fiddle, everyone on earth would want to hear him play. So the devil said, ‘Give me that there fiddle, man.’ And Camlo said, cool as anything, ‘I’m not in the habit of giving my best things away.’ So the devil said, “I’ll give you plenty of gold.’ ‘Well, how much?’ said Camlo. ‘As much as in all the Ganges,’ said the devil.”

“The Ganges?”

“It is a river in India,” said Astrophil.

“So the devil showed him the Ganges and how the water sparkled with gold. It shimmered like a thousand little suns. And the devil pulled out that Ganges gold and stuffed Camlo’s pockets. He filled a big wheelbarrow full of it. Camlo said, ‘Mister Devil, you got yourself a deal.’ He handed over the fiddle, though he loved it so, and walked off to enjoy being rich.

“The devil was keen to start impressing people with his music, so he tuned up and began to play. But imagine his surprise when no one paid him any mind! He played and played but folks just ignored him. So he hunted down Camlo. ‘Your blasted fiddle doesn’t work!’ the devil cried. ‘It works just fine,’ said Camlo. ‘I can’t make it play the way you can! You’ve tricked me somehow!’ raged the devil. ‘Well, of course,’ said Camlo. ’I sold you my fiddle, but I didn’t sell you my soul with it.’”

Petra stood silent. The snow swirled. She said, “Tell that to John Dee.”