Behemoth (14 page)

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Authors: Scott Westerfeld

BOOK: Behemoth
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A moment later they were among dark trees, Klopp’s panting ahead of them. Corporal Bauer still pulled him along, apologizing under his breath. The forest soon smothered the battle’s sounds, the searchlight barely glimmering through the leaves. The sniffers’ howls were muted, the strafing hawks forced higher by heavy branches.

The three of them thrashed deeper into the trees, until everything was swallowed up by blackness. All Alek could see were spots burned into his vision by the searchlight. Behind them the sounds faded abruptly.

Volger would be negotiating now, offering Hoffman and himself in exchange for the others’ freedom. The Darwinists would have little choice. If they fought their way through the fence, they’d risk killing their last engineer and translator.

Alek found himself slowing. Count Volger’s plan had worked to perfection.

Bauer tightened his grip. “Please, sir. We can’t go back.”

“Of course not.” Alek shook himself free and came to a halt. “But there’s no need to rush, unless we want to give poor old Klopp a heart attack.”

Klopp didn’t argue. He stood, stooped and panting, his hands on his knees. Alek looked back the way they’d come, listening for sounds of pursuit—nothing. Not even a bird in the sky.

He was finally free, but he’d never felt more alone.

Prince Aleksandar knew what his father would have said. It was time for him to take command.

“Did we drop anything?”

Bauer quickly counted the bags. “The wireless set, the tools, the gold bar—we’ve got it all, sir.”

“The gold …,” Alek said, wondering how much the last of his father’s fortune had slowed them down. He would’ve traded all of it for the extra minutes that Volger’s sacrifice had bought them.

But this was no time for self-pity, or for wishing that things were different.

“And there’s this,” Klopp added, pulling a leather scroll case from his jacket. It was marked with the crossed keys of the papal seal. “He said you should carry it from now on.”

Alek stared at the object. It was a letter from the pope stating that Alek was heir to his father’s titles and estates, despite the wishes of his granduncle, the emperor. One could argue that it made Alek the heir to the throne of Austria-Hungary as well. It was why the Germans were hunting him—he might one day have the power to end this war.

As Alek’s fingers closed around the case, he realized that he’d always relied on Volger to keep the letter safe. But now he had to carry his own destiny.

He slid the case into a pocket and buttoned it shut. “Very good, Klopp. Shall I take Volger’s bag for you?”

“No, young master,” the man panted. “I’ll be fine.”

Alek held out his hand. “I’m afraid I must insist. You’re slowing us down.”

Klopp paused. This was the moment when he would normally have glanced at the wildcount for approval, but no longer. He handed the bag over, and Alek grunted as the weight hit him.

Volger, of course, had been carrying the gold.

The creature mimicked the grunt, and Alek sighed. Less than an hour old, and already it was becoming tiresome.

“I hope you learn some new tricks soon,” he muttered, to which the creature blinked its eyes.

Bauer hoisted the other two bags. “Which way, sir?”

“You mean Count Volger didn’t provide you with any more secret plans?”

Bauer looked at Klopp, who shrugged.

Alek took a slow breath. It was all up to him now.

To the west lay Europe, descending into madness and war. To the east was the Ottoman Empire, stretching, vast and alien, into the heart of Asia. And spanning the two continents was the ancient city of Constantinople.

“We stay in the capital, for now. We’ll need to buy clothes … and perhaps horses.” Alek paused, realizing that with the gold bar they could buy their own walker if they wanted. The possibilities were endless. “At least in the city some of the storekeepers will understand German.”

“Very sensible,” Klopp said. “But where
tonight
, young master?”

Bauer nodded, staring back the way they’d come. The woods were silent, but the searchlight still glimmered on the horizon.

“We head west for an hour,” Alek said. “Then circle back toward the city. Perhaps we’ll find a friendly inn.”

“An inn, sir? But won’t the Ottomans be looking for us?” Bauer asked.

Alek thought for a moment, then shook his head. “They won’t know who to look for, unless the Darwinists tell them. And I don’t think they will.”

Klopp frowned. “Why not?”

“Don’t you see, the Darwinists don’t
want
us to be caught.” As Alek spoke the words, his own thoughts became
clearer. “We know too much about the
Leviathan
—how its engines work, the nature of its mission. It won’t help them to have us in Ottoman hands.”

Klopp nodded slowly. “They could say it was only Volger and Hoffman who tried to escape, and they’ve caught them. So there’s no one else to look for!”

“Exactly,” Alek said. “And as a warship, the
Leviathan
has to leave neutral territory by tomorrow. Once they’re gone, no one will know we’re here.”

“What about the Germans, sir?” Bauer said quietly. “They saw the Stormwalker in the Alps, with its Hapsburg crest, and saw the
Leviathan
mounted with our engines. They must know we were aboard, and they’ll guess who was trying to escape tonight, even if the Ottomans don’t.”

Alek swore. German agents were everywhere in Constantinople, and tonight’s ruckus hadn’t been subtle.

“You’re right, Bauer. But I doubt there are any Germans in these woods. I still say we sleep in an inn tonight—a quiet, comfortable one that will take gold shavings in payment. Tomorrow we’ll disguise ourselves properly.”

He walked into the darkness, setting his course by the last glimmer of searchlights behind them. The other two hoisted their bags and followed. No arguments, no debate.

As simple as that, Alek was in command.

Deryn carried the tray carefully, barely trusting herself to walk straight.

The Clankers’ escape had kept her awake all night—scrambling to the rookery to release the strafing hawks, being dragged about by a pack of excited sniffers, then two hours with the officers as they explained it all to the Ottoman authorities, who thought it a squick rude for the
Leviathan
’s crew to be gallivanting across their airfield without permission.

When Deryn had finally found a moment to check the machine room, Dr. Barlow was already there. One of the eggs had hatched in the night, and the newborn beastie was missing!

The odd thing was, the lady boffin had hardly seemed upset. She’d ordered Deryn to take a good look around the ship, but had only smiled when Deryn had come back empty-handed.

That was boffins for you.

By the time Deryn had stumbled to her own cabin, it had been dawn—time to go back on duty. To add insult to injury, her first orders had been to deliver breakfast to the man who’d caused the whole palaver.

A guard stood in front of Count Volger’s stateroom. He looked as tired as Deryn felt, and stared hungrily at her tray full of toast, boiled eggs, and tea.

“Shall I knock for you, sir?” he asked.

“Aye, feel free to wake his countship up,” Deryn said. “Seeing as how he kept
us
up all night.”

The man nodded and gave the door a good piece of his boot.

Volger opened it a moment later, looking as though he hadn’t been to bed yet either. His hair stuck out at all angles, and his riding breeches were still spattered with mud from the airfield.

He gave the tray a hungry look and stepped aside. Deryn pushed past him and set it down on the desk. She noted that Volger’s saber was gone, along with most of his papers. The officers must have ransacked the room after the escape.

“Breakfast for a condemned man?” Volger asked, closing the door.

“I doubt they’ll hang you, sir. Not today, anyhow.”

The man smiled, pouring himself tea. “You Darwinists are so forgiving.”

Deryn rolled her eyes at that. Volger knew he was indispensable. The lady boffin might speak Clanker, but she didn’t know the fiddly words for mechanical parts. And she certainly wasn’t going to spend her days up in an engine pod. Volger would be treated well as long as Hoffman was needed to keep the engines running.

“I’d hardly say you’re forgiven,” Deryn said. “There’ll be a guard on your door day and night.”

“Well, then, Mr. Sharp, I am your prisoner.” Volger pulled out the desk chair and sat down, then gestured at an empty cup on the windowsill. “Tea?”

Deryn raised an eyebrow. His countship was offering
her
, a lowly middy, a cup of tea? The floral smell rising from the pot had already set her mouth watering. Between the ruckus last night and resupplying the ship before they left today, it might be hours before she sat down to her own breakfast.

Better a quick cup of tea and milk than nothing.

“Thank you, sir. I believe I will.” Deryn picked up the cup. It was fine porcelain, as light as a hummingbird, with Alek’s mechanical eagle crest inlaid in gold. “Did you bring this fancy china all the way from Austria?”

“One advantage to traveling in a Stormwalker, there’s plenty of room for luggage.” Volger sighed. “Though I’m afraid you hold our last surviving piece. It is two centuries old. Pray, don’t drop it.”

Deryn’s eyes widened as the wildcount poured. “I’ll try not to.”

“Milk?”

She nodded dumbly and sat down, wondering at the transformation that had come over Count Volger. He’d always been a dark presence on the ship, skulking through the corridors and glaring at the beasties. But this morning the man seemed almost …
pleasant
.

Deryn took a sip of tea, letting its warmth spread through her.

“You seem in good spirits,” she said. “Considering.”

“Considering that my escape was foiled?” Volger stared out the window. “Odd, isn’t it? I feel somewhat light-hearted this morning, as if all my cares had lifted.”

Deryn frowned. “You mean because Alek’s got away, and you haven’t?”

The man stirred his tea. “Yes, I suppose that’s it.”

“Well, that’s a bit hard, isn’t it?” Deryn said. “Poor Alek’s out there on the run, while you’re sipping tea out of a fancy cup, safe and sound.”

Volger raised his cup, which had the
Leviathan
’s silhouette and nautilus spirals stamped on its side in black. “That would be you, boy. Mine is quite plain.”

“To blazes with your barking teacup!” Deryn cried, annoyance rising in her. “You’re
happy
that Alek’s gone, aren’t you?”

“Happy that he’s off this ship?” The wildcount salted his boiled eggs and took a bite of one. “That he’s no longer destined to spend the war in chains?”

“Aye, but the poor boy’s all on his own. And here you are having breakfast, smug as a box of cats! I think it’s dead rotten of you!”

Volger paused, a forkful of potatoes now halfway to his mouth. He looked her up and down.

Deryn swallowed her next words, realizing she’d let exhaustion get the better of her. Her voice had gone all high and squeaky, and she was gripping the antique teacup so hard it was a wonder it hadn’t shattered.

During the alert there’d been so much commotion, it had been easy to forget that Alek was out there running for his life. But sitting here watching Volger salt his eggs with a self-satisfied expression, the enormity of it all had finally struck home.

Alek was gone, and he wasn’t coming back.

Deryn set the teacup carefully on the desk. Careful to use her boy’s voice, she said, “You seem dead pleased with yourself, is all. And I reckon it’s because Alek isn’t your problem anymore.”

“My problem?” Volger asked. “Is
that
what you think he was?”

“Aye. You’re glad to see the backside of him, just because he had a mind of his own sometimes.”

Volger’s face fell back into its usual stony expression, as if Deryn were a bug crawling across his breakfast. “Listen, boy. You have no idea what I’ve given up for Alek—my title, my future, my family’s name. I’ll never see my home again, no matter who wins this war. I’m a traitor in the eyes of my people, and all of it to keep Alek safe.”

Deryn held his stare. “Aye, but you’re not the only one who’s had to go against his own country. I kept Alek’s secrets and looked the other way when you lot were planning to escape. So don’t go getting all high and mighty on
me
.”

Volger glared at her another moment, then let out a tired laugh. He finally took his bite of potatoes, and chewed them thoughtfully.

“You’re as worried about him as I am, aren’t you?”

“Of course I am,” Deryn said.

“It’s quite touching, really.” Volger poured more tea for them both. “I’m glad Alek had you as a friend, Dylan, even if you are a commoner.”

Deryn rolled her eyes. Aristocrats were so barking stuck up.

“But Alek has trained for this moment his whole life,” Volger went on. “His father and I always knew that one day he would be alone, with the whole world against him. And Alek has made it amply clear that he was ready to go on without me.”

Deryn shook her head. “But you’ve got it all wrong, Count. Alek didn’t want to go it alone; he wanted
more
allies, not less. He even said he wanted to …”

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