Behemoth

artillery won’t be able to hit us in the air, and the beastie will swim deep underwater, unharmed by magnetic sea mines.”

“But won’t the Ottoman navy have plenty of warning, sir?” Deryn asked—the strait was almost a hundred miles from Istanbul.

“Indeed,” Dr. Busk said. “But Admiral Souchon won’t guess what sort of creature the Leviathan is bringing. It’s a new species, more formidable than any of our navy krakens.”

Deryn nodded, remembering what Dr. Barlow had told her on the sultan’s airship.

“It’s called a behemoth,” the head boffin said.

By the time she left the navigation room, Deryn felt unsteady on her feet.

First a decoration for gallantry, when she’d half expected to be hanged for treason. Then her first command, a secret attack against an empire that Britain was at peace with. That didn’t seem right at all. It was more like being a spy than a soldier!

And the final shock was the drawing of the behemoth that Dr. Busk had shown them. It was a huge creature, with tentacles like a kraken and a maw big enough to swallow one of the kaiser’s submarines. The body was nearly as big as the Leviathan, but made of muscle and sinew instead of hydrogen and fragile membranes.

No wonder Lord Churchill hadn’t wanted to hand it over!

As Deryn neared the central stairs, she frowned—a civilian was lurking about in the corridor ahead of her. She recognized the shapeless hat and the bullfrog on his shoulder. It was Eddie Malone, the reporter she’d met aboard the Dauntless, no doubt here to cover the sultan’s joyride.

But what was he doing so close to the bow?

“Excuse me, Mr. Malone,” she said. “Are you lost?”

The man spun around on one heel, a guilty expression on his face. Then he frowned and took a closer look. “Oh, it’s you, Mr. Sharp. How lucky!”

“Indeed you are, sir. You’re wandering about in a restricted area.” She pointed back toward the stairs. “I’m afraid you’ll have to rejoin the other reporters in the mess hall.”

“Well, of course,” Malone said, but he made no move to turn around, just stood there watching a message lizard scuttling past overhead. “I just wanted a better look at your magnificent ship.”

Deryn sighed. She had only a few hours to learn how to use a diving apparatus, how to keelhaul drop onto solid stone, and how to handle acid-spitting barnacles! She wasn’t in the mood for pleasantries.

“You’re very kind, sir.” She pointed down the corridor again. “But if you please.”

Malone leaned closer and spoke quietly. “Here’s the thing, Mr. Sharp. I’m checking out a story. One that might make your ship look bad, if reported in a certain way. Perhaps you could clear things up for me.”

“Clear what up, Mr. Malone?”

“I have it on good authority that you’re holding a prisoner here. He should be a prisoner of war, but you’re not treating him properly.”

Deryn took a long moment to speak. “I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”

“I think you are! A man named Volger is aboard this ship. You’re making him work on those Clanker engines of yours, even though he’s a real-life count!”

Deryn’s hand went to her command whistle, ready to call for the guards. But then she realized how Malone must have learned about Volger … from Alek.

With a quick look in both directions, she pulled Malone out of the main corridor and into the officers’ baths.

“Where did you hear this?” she whispered.

“I met an odd fellow,” he said softly, scratching the chin of his bullfrog. “I thought he was a bit suspicious, and suddenly the Germans were chasing him. That didn’t seem right, as he was Austrian, a fellow Clanker!”

“Germans?” Deryn’s eyes widened. “Is he all right?”

“He gave them the slip, and I saw him again today at lunch.” The man smiled. “He knew a lot about your ship, which was also odd. Do you think I could meet this Volger fellow? I have a message to deliver.”

Deryn groaned, her stomach winding into the same tight coils it always did when she was contemplating treason. But Alek was still here in Istanbul, and the Germans were after him! Maybe Count Volger could help.

She held out her hand. “All right. I’ll take the message to him.”

“It won’t work that way, I’m afraid.” Malone pointed at his bullfrog. “Rusty here has the message in his head, and you don’t know how to make him speak.”

Deryn stared at the frog, wondering if it was memorizing everything she was saying right now. Could she really trust this reporter?

Her thoughts were shattered by a whistle echoing through the ship—the all-hands signal. The sultan was almost here. In a few minutes all the ship’s marines would be arrayed along the gangway, waiting for his arrival.

Which meant that there wouldn’t be a guard at Volger’s stateroom door …

Deryn reached for her ring of keys.

“Come with me,” she said.

TWENTY-THREE

As expected, no one was guarding the count’s stateroom.

Deryn opened the door to the sight of Volger leaning halfway out his window, trying to get a better view of the sultan’s magnificent walker. Before she’d left the navigation room, Deryn had seen the elephant-shaped machine approaching across the airfield. It was even larger than the Dauntless, its howdah as ornate as a lady’s hat on Derby Day.

“Excuse me, sir,” she said to Volger’s backside, “but you have a visitor.”

As the wildcount extracted himself from the window, Deryn checked the empty corridor and closed the door behind them.

“A visitor?” Volger said. “How interesting.”

The reporter stepped forward and thrust out his hand. “Eddie Malone, reporter for the New York World.”

Count Volger said nothing, eyeing Malone up and down.

“He has a message from Alek,” Deryn said.

Volger’s face froze for a moment. “Alek? Where is he?”

“Right here in Istanbul.” Malone pulled out his battered notebook. “He told me about you being a prisoner aboard this ship. Are you being well treated, sir?”

Volger didn’t answer, his expression still one of shock.

“Blisters, Malone!” Deryn swore. “We haven’t got time for you to do a barking interview. Can your wee beastie please just deliver the message!”

“Alek said it was private, just for the count.”

Deryn groaned with frustration. “Alek won’t mind me hearing whatever he has to say. Right, your countship?”

Volger regarded the bullfrog with an expression of infinite distaste, but he gave the reporter a nod.

Malone took the beastie from his shoulder and set it on the desk. He scratched beneath its chin, tapping a sort of code with his fingertip. “Okay, Rusty. Repeat.”

The frog began to speak in Alek’s voice. “I can’t be sure if this is really you, Count, but I have to trust this man. We’re still here in Istanbul, you see, which I’m sure upsets you greatly. But we’ve met some friends—allies, I