Behemoth

THIRTY-FIVE

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?”

Dylan perched on one arm of the chair, looking dizzy and astonished.

“Pardon me, your princeliness, but this is all a bit much. First you tell me about her …” The boy waved in the direction of Lilit’s room. “And now this!”

“I’m sorry. I never wanted to lie to you, Dylan. But I learned about this letter the same night I met you. It’s still quite strange for me.”

“It’s pure dead strange for me, too!” Dylan said, standing up again and pacing across the room. “Ending a whole barking war with a bit of paper, even if it is a fancy scroll. Who would believe it’s real??”

Alek nodded. He’d felt the same way when Volger had shown him the letter. It seemed too small an object to change so much. But here in Istanbul, Alek had begun to understand what the scroll really meant. The Leviathan had been brought to that mountaintop, and then here. It was up to him, Aleksandar of Hohenberg, to end the war that his parents’ death had started.

“Volger says the pope himself will vouch for me, as long as I keep this letter secret until my granduncle passes away. The emperor turned eighty-four last week. He could die any day.”

“Blisters. No wonder the Germans want to catch you so badly!”

“True enough. It has made things dangerous.” Alek looked at the scroll case. “But that’s why we had to come back here. And why I’m willing to trade my father’s gold to make the Committee’s revolution work. What we do here can change everything.”

Dylan stopped pacing in the middle of the room, his fists clenched, as if struggling with some secret of his own.

“Thank you for trusting me, Alek.” The boy looked at the floor. “I haven’t always trusted you. Not with everything.”

Alek pulled himself up from the chair and walked closer, resting his hands on the boy’s shoulders. “You know you can, Dylan.”

“Aye, I suppose. And there’s something I should tell you. But you have to swear not to tell anyone else—not Lilit, not the Committee. No one.”

“I’ll always keep your secrets, Dylan.”

The boy nodded slowly. “This one’s a bit trickier than most.”

He fell silent again, the pause stretching out.

“It’s about your mission here, isn’t it?”

Dylan let out a slow sigh, a sound of relief and exhaustion. “Aye, I suppose it is. We were an advance party, sent to sabotage the kraken nets in the strait. It was all part of Dr. Barlow’s plan from the beginning.”

“But your men were captured.”

Dylan shook his head. “My men may have been caught, but we did our job. Right now those nets are being eaten away by wee beasties. And it’s happening so slowly that the Ottomans won’t realize until it’s too late.”

“So you British aren’t waiting for the sultan to join the war. You’ll strike the first blow.”

“Aye, in three weeks. Dr. Barlow says the nets will be in tatters by then. On the night of the next new moon, the Leviathan will guide a new beastie down the strait. It’s the companion creature for the Osman, the ship that Lord Churchill stole from the Ottomans. It’s called a behemoth, and it’s barking huge, like the world has never seen before! Those German ironclads’ days are numbered.”

Alek clenched the scroll case tighter. The weakest link in the Committee’s plans had always been the German ironclads. But with some kind of Royal Navy monster on its way, the odds had changed considerably.

“But this is exactly what we need, Dylan. We have to tell the Committee!”

“We can’t,” the boy said. “I trust Zaven and his family, but there are hundreds of others involved. What if one of them is a Clanker spy? If the Germans find out the Leviathan is coming, the Goeben could surprise it anywhere along the way with her Tesla cannon charged!”

“Of course.” Alek shuddered a bit, remembering the lightning coursing through his body. “But what about Zaven’s plan? He’s leading walkers with spice bombs against the ironclads. Klopp says it’s insane.”

“Aye, completely daft,” Dylan said. “But don’t tell Zaven that! If they strike on the night of the new moon, the Goeben will be sunk before they even get there!”

Alek nodded slowly, thinking it through. In an all-out battle for the city, the sultan would send his walkers into the streets, relying on the German warships to protect the palace. But if they lay at the bottom of the sea, the revolution could be over in a single night. Thousands of lives might be spared.

Of course, an attack in utter darkness would mean teaching the Committee’s pilots how to drive their walkers at night. He’d already explained the principles to Lilit, and she’d picked them up quickly enough. If anything, it would give the revolutionaries yet another advantage.

“I’ll order Klopp to say he’s changed his mind, that he thinks spice bombing the Goeben will work. He might grumble a bit, but he’ll do as he’s told. But how do we get the Committee to pick that exact night?”

“Have Klopp say that it’s best to attack the ironclads in darkness.” Dylan shrugged. “Then we’ll point out that September 19 is a new moon, and let them decide on their own.”

Alek smiled. “And with your masculine charms, you can persuade Lilit to plead our case for us!”

Dylan rolled his eyes, turning beet red again. “Speaking of secrets, you won’t tell Lilit about that discussion either, will you? It’ll only complicate things.”

Alek chuckled. He’d always heard that Darwinists were quite plainspoken about matters of biology, to the point of being vulgar. But Dylan looked positively shamefaced about the whole thing, more like a schoolboy than a soldier.

It was most amusing.

“As I said, all your secrets are safe with me.”

“Aye, good, then.” Dylan hesitated. “And … you’re completely sure it’s me she likes, not you?”

Alek laughed. “I should hope so. After all, if we did like each other, I’d have to run a mile.”

“What do you mean?”

“For heaven’s sake, Dylan. Lilit is a commoner, far more common than my mother.” Alek held up the scroll case. “I grew up not knowing if this would ever happen. Not knowing who I really was, and always thinking how much easier it would be for everyone if I hadn’t been born. I could never do that to my own children, not in a thousand years.”

Dylan stared at the scroll case sadly. “Must be tough, being a prince.”

“Not any longer, thanks to this.” Alek clasped Dylan’s shoulder again, happy that his only real friend knew his last secret. “Let’s get out of here. We have a revolution to plan.”

Lilit opened her door wearing a frown.

“Took you two long enough. I thought you’d got yourselves into trouble.”

“We were having a bit of a discussion.” Alek winked at Dylan, then held up the scroll case. “But we found this.”

Lilit gave them both an odd look, and Dylan turned away in embarrassment, heading toward the servants’ staircase.

Alek shrugged for Lilit’s benefit, then followed.

As they descended the stairs, the hotel began to stir around them. The steam elevators rumbled and hissed, building up pressure for the morning traffic, and soon a clattering rose up from below.

Dylan came to a halt, raising his hand. “The cooks are in the kitchen already. We can’t go back that way.”

“Straight through the lobby doors, then,” Lilit said. “If no one found your letter, there won’t be any German agents about.”

“Aye, but some of us are wanted taxi thieves!” Dylan said.

Alek shook his head. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be out the door before anyone gives us a second look.”

“Just try not to act suspicious,” Lilit said, nudging open the door to the dining room.

She led them through the empty tables, with a stride as confident as if she owned the hotel. A young boy in a fez looked up from polishing silverware and frowned, but didn’t say a word.

They passed him and headed through the lobby, which was empty except for one rather shabby-looking tourist waiting for a room.…

The man glanced up from his newspaper, smiled, and waved a hand.

“Ah, Prince Alek,” he called. “I thought you might be somewhere hereabouts.”

Alek froze in midstride. It was Eddie Malone.