Leviathan

well as yours, giving everything to the animals.” She stared out the window. “And our crew is smaller than it once was.”

Alek nodded. He’d seen the shrouded bodies outside, and the men laboring to bury them in the iron-hard ice beneath the snow.

“But France isn’t neutral territory,” she said. “You’ll be taken prisoner.”

“That’s the favor I’ve come to ask.” Alek took a deep breath. “You’ll be coming down in some random spot, Dylan says. We could slip away the moment you land.”

“And no one the wiser,” Dylan added.

Dr. Barlow nodded slowly. “It might work. And we certainly owe you a debt, Alek. But I’m afraid it’s not up to me.”

“Are you saying the captain won’t look the other way?” Alek said.

“The captain is an idiot,” she repeated bitterly. “He refuses to complete our mission. He won’t even try! If one can free-balloon to France, surely the Ottoman Empire is possible. It’s simply a question of catching the right wind.” She waved the map case. “The air currents of the Mediterranean are hardly a mystery!”

“Might be a bit tricky, ma’am,” Dylan said, and cleared his throat. “And technically our destination is still a military secret.”

Dr. Barlow glared at the eggs. “An utterly meaningless one, at this point.”

Alek frowned, wondering why the Leviathan was headed to the Ottoman Empire. The Ottomans were devoutly anti-Darwinist, thanks to their Muslim faith. They’d been enemies with Russia for centuries, and the sultan and the kaiser were old friends. Volger always said that sooner or later the Ottomans would join forces with Germany and Austria-Hungary.

“That’s neutral territory, isn’t it?” he said carefully.

“For the moment.” Dr. Barlow sighed. “Of course that may change soon, which is why this delay is a disaster. Years of work, wasted.”

Alek listened to her fume, puzzling over this new development. The Ottoman Empire was the perfect place to disappear. It was a vast and impoverished realm, where a few gold coins could go a long way. There were German agents in abundance there, but at least he wouldn’t be taken prisoner the moment he arrived.

“If you don’t mind telling me, Dr. Barlow, was your mission one of peace or war?”

She held his gaze a moment. “I can’t babble all our secrets to you, Alek. But it should be obvious that I am a scientist, not a soldier.”

“And a diplomat?”

Dr. Barlow smiled. “We all do our duty.”

Alek glanced at the box again. What the eggs could have to do with diplomacy was beyond him. But what mattered was that Dr. Barlow would risk anything to get them to the Ottoman Empire… .

Which gave Alek a bold idea.

“What if I could give you engines, Dr. Barlow?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Pardon me?”

“The Stormwalker has two powerful engines,” he said. “Both in good working order.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Dr. Barlow turned to Dylan. “Is such a thing possible, Mr. Sharp?”

The boy looked dubious. “I’m sure they’ve got enough power, ma’am. But they’re barking heavy! And that Clanker machinery is a fiddle. Making it work could take ages, and we’re a bit pressed for time.”

Alek shook his head. “Your crew wouldn’t have to do much. Klopp is the best master of mechaniks in Austria, handpicked by my father. He and Hoffman kept that Stormwalker running for five weeks on a handful of parts. I would imagine they can get a pair of propellers spinning.”

“Aye, maybe,” Dylan said. “But there’s a bit more to it than just spinning the props.”

“Then your engineers can help us.” Alek turned to Dr. Barlow. “What about it? Your mission can go forward, and my men and I can escape to a friendly power.”

“But there is one problem,” the woman said. “We’ll be dependent on you.”

Alek blinked—he hadn’t thought of that. Control of the engines meant control of the airship.

“We could train your engineers as we go,” he said. “Please believe me, I enter into this alliance in good faith.”

“I trust you, Alek,” she said. “But you’re just a boy. How can I be sure your word holds with your men?”

“Because I’m …,” Alek started, then took a slow breath. “They’ll do what I say. They traded a count for me, remember?”

“I remember,” she said. “But if I’m going to bargain with you, Alek, I need to know who you really are.”

“I … I can’t tell you that.”

“Let me make this easy, then. The best master of mechaniks in all of Austria was part of your father’s household?”

Alek nodded slowly.

“And you say you’ve been on the run for five weeks,” she continued. “So your journey began roughly June twenty-eighth?”

Alek froze. Dr. Barlow had named the night that Volger and Klopp had come for him in his bedroom—the night his parents had died. She must have suspected already, after all the clues he’d let slip. And he’d just handed her the final pieces of the puzzle.

He tried to deny it, but suddenly he couldn’t speak. Keeping his despair a secret had made it easier to control, but now the emptiness was rising up in him again.

Dr. Barlow reached out and took his hand. “I’m so sorry, Alek. That must have been awful. So the rumors are true? It was the Germans?”

He turned away, unable to face her pity. “They’ve hunted us since that first night.”

“Then we shall have to get you away from here.” She rose, gathering her traveling coat around her. “I shall explain to the captain.”

“Please, ma’am,” Alek said, trying to keep his voice from shaking. “Don’t tell anyone else who I am. It might complicate things.”

Dr. Barlow looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “I suppose this can be our secret, for now. The captain will be happy enough with your offer of engines.”

She opened the door, then turned back. Alek wished she would just leave. The emptiness was welling up now unstoppably, and he didn’t want to cry in front of a woman.

But all she said was, “Take care of him, Mr. Sharp. I shall return.”

THIRTY-FIVE

Alek’s sadness had been obvious from the beginning, Deryn reckoned.

She’d seen it when he’d woken her up the night of the wreck, his dark green eyes full of sorrow and fear. And yesterday when he’d told her about being an orphan—she should have known from his silences how raw the heartache was.

But now it was all in the open, tears running down his face, his sobs heavy. Somehow, revealing himself had loosened Alek’s mastery of his sadness.

“Poor boy,” Deryn said softly, kneeling beside him. Alek was huddled against the cargo box, his face buried in his hands.

“I’m sorry,” he snuffled, looking ashamed.

“Don’t be daft.” She sat beside him, the box warm at her back. “I went half mad when my da died. Didn’t talk for a month.”

Alek tried to say something, but failed. A hard swallow wracked his frame, as if his throat were glued shut.

“Shhh,” Deryn said, and pushed a lock of hair from his face. His cheeks were wet with tears. “And don’t worry,