The Celestial Globe: The Kronos Chronicles: Book II (7 page)

Treb’s cousin stared up at the flag snapping in the wind and sighed.

“Something on your mind?” Treb asked. “Still upset we couldn’t pay a call on your friend? I don’t care how close she lives to the Loophole. Our mission’s a secret one. You knew that when you came aboard. Anyway, she’d probably run screaming from the sight of a fierce crew of salty Gypsies.”

“Not her.”

“So that
is
what’s got your rope twisted.”

“Not exactly.” The boy glanced at the starboard side of the ship, where Andras was smiling encouragingly as the
gadje
produced a perfect slipknot. “I’ll be straight with you, Treb. I don’t like the idea of selling that Bohemian at a slave market.”

“Why ever shouldn’t we?”

“Well, what’d we take him aboard for, if it wasn’t to keep the
Loophole secret? We didn’t want him spouting off to the Bohemian hill folk about it. So do we really want him telling his new master in Sallay?”

“He’s not going to tell his new master anything. Somehow, I don’t think he speaks Arabic.”

“He seems like a quick study, though. Won’t take him long to learn.”

“Who cares if he does? By the time our blue-eyed angel knows how to say ‘Yes, sir,’
we’ll
have the globe, and
we’ll
know where all the Loopholes in the world are, and how to get through them. Then it’ll be fine by me if some Sallay gent knows how to find one hidden beach. And we’ll earn a nice purse of gold for selling the boy.” Treb frowned at his cousin. “You know all of this. And you’re too canny to worry about it.” He pulled the pipe from his lips and jabbed it at the boy. “Don’t try to fool me, coz. I can see through playacting just as surely as I can spy a gull on the horizon. Something else is eating at you. Out with it.”

“It’s just . . . Treb, it isn’t right. Our people were slaves once, long ago in the desert. What sense is it for us to sell somebody else on an auction block?”

Treb choked, coughing out smoke. “Oh,
laddie
.” He pounded his chest. “And here I thought you were almost a man, not a wide-eyed baby still clinging to his ma’s skirts. You feel
sorry
for our prize
gadje
? And what do you think he’d do in our shoes? What do you think all of Bohemia is doing to our people?” Treb’s astonishment was turning into anger. “How many Roma have been locked up already in the jail cells of Salamander Castle? Where is Bohemia’s mercy to
us
? You’re lucky your clan left Prague a month ago. You shouldn’t be whining over the fate of a
gadje
. You should be glad that your family’s safe.”

“Not my sis,” the boy mumbled.

“It’s thanks to her that we have the information we do. Who else has an inside look into the dealings of Salamander Castle? She’s in a risky situation, to be sure, but she’s doing her part. And don’t worry: no one looking at her would guess she’s a Roma. Sadie’s lovely pale skin’ll save her.”

The boy shot his captain a dirty look.

“That was kindly meant, coz. Sadie’s as much of my blood as you are. More, even.”

The boy snarled, “So I’m only your cousin when you need me, is that it? And when you’re searching for something to fling in my face, I’m just some foundling brat your aunt took in. I won’t be both, so you better decide which way you want to see me,
coz
.” He began to stalk away.

Treb snagged him by the shoulder. “I didn’t mean that. But Neel,
Neel,
don’t fret over a
gadje
as if you were his nursemaid! I can’t think straight when you talk so foolishly. You make me say things I regret. You’ve got a good heart, but it’s misplaced. Remember, there’s us and there’s them. It’s an ugly fact, but a true one, and as old as history. If you haven’t learned that lesson yet, you’d better learn it now.”

N
EEL STOOD
on the platform midway up the main mast, working the topsail. Next to him, Tas pulled and loosened the ropes, helping swing the sail into the right position to catch the wind.

It was a fine day. The wind was strong, and the salt air smelled so fresh Neel wanted to eat it. The muscles in his arms sprang up as he hauled on the sail.

With unease, Neel recalled his conversation with Treb, though he knew he shouldn’t. If Treb had slipped and showed he thought his loony aunt from the Lovari tribe might have made some mistakes in having a half-
gadje
daughter and adopting a stranger’s illegitimate
son, Neel was used to this. Treb was only saying out loud what almost everybody thought. But what really got to Neel, and what made him grip the rope hard, was Treb’s suggestion that he wasn’t true to his people.

So Neel was in no mood to listen when Andras asked him for a favor.

Andras stood below on deck, his bald head and powerful shoulders gleaming in the sun. “Neel!” he hollered up the mast.

“Yeah?” Neel shouted back.

“I need you to do something.”

“What?”

“Swap jobs with me.”

“Huh? You’re off duty.”

“Well . . . I’ve been watching over the Bohemian.”

“And you want to swap
that
? No way, Andras.” Neel laughed. “I’d rather be working the topgallant sail. I’d rather be up in the crow’s nest. I’d rather be in the
brig
, so long as that
gadje
wasn’t in there with me.”

“Oh, he’s not half-bad.”

Neel hooted.

“Honest.” Andras spread his hands. “I wouldn’t mind spending time with him, but he’s real inquisitive. Keeps asking all kinds of questions, and my Czech’s not good enough to understand even a small part of what he’s saying. Poor lad’s been swiped from his home. Least you could do is come down and explain to him what’s going on.”

“Nope. Not me.”

Andras glared, his wrinkles cutting so deeply that they looked like scars. “I’m giving you an order.”

“And you know where you can stick it.”

“I outrank you!”

“I outsmart you.”

Andras put his fists on his hips. “Don’t make me come up there and shake you out of your tree.”

“So Blue Eyes has got questions, does he? I should say so. But. I. Don’t. Care. Find somebody else to hold his hand. I can’t figure why you’re bugging
me
to do it.”

“You speak Czech better than anyone on this boat.”

Neel shrugged and hauled on a rope. Treb spoke Czech as well as he did. Andras was just trying to flatter him. Well, it wouldn’t work.

“And,”
Andras said with a wicked note in his voice, “we all know how fond you are of Bohemians. Why, who hasn’t heard about your girl—”

“Friend!” Neel yelped. “She’s a
friend
!”

“Ooo—ooo,” Tas cooed.

Even the sailors clinging to the other mast were paying attention now.

“Argh!”
Neel dropped the rope in his hands.

Tas swore, fumbling with his rope as the sail swung wide.

“Neel!” Treb was striding up the deck. “What in the name of the four tribes are you doing to my topsail?”

“Neel’s distracted,” Andras loudly explained. “He keeps thinking about—”

“Nothing!” Neel fastened the rope into place. “Andras, will you switch jobs with me?”

There was a pause.

“Please?”
Neel begged.

Andras began climbing up the Jacob’s ladder. When he reached the platform, he took over Neel’s rope with a chuckle.

Neel said sourly, “For someone so old, your sense of needling others is right spry.”

He flew down the ladder before Andras could laugh at him again.

• • •

“O
H
.” The blond boy’s face hardened. “You.”

Neel noted with satisfaction that the Bohemian was already burned by the sun. “That’s right, Pinky. Looking red as a bloody dawn, you are. But a whole lot less prettier.”

“I’m not talking to you. Get me somebody else.”

“Is our prisoner making demands? You’ll talk to who you can get, and be glad for it.”

There was a pause. “I want to ask some questions.”

“Get on with it, then.”

“Yesterday, you said this ship is sailing for Morocco.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Where you’re going to
sell
me.”

“Yep.”

“If I’m a prisoner, why did somebody let me out of my cage?”

“You mean the brig? That was Andras’s idea. He talked Treb into it. Said you’d do no harm on deck during the day with the crew to keep an eye on you. Plus, we don’t want you looking all pasty and sickly-like for the auction,” Neel continued, ignoring the boy’s staggered look. “That’d bring down your price. But we’ll lock you up nice and tight each nightfall.”

The Bohemian closed his eyes. “When will we reach Sallay?”

“A few days. Depending on the wind.”

The boy’s jewel-blue eyes flew open. “How is that possible? Yesterday I was in Bohemia. No boat can sail from Bohemia to Morocco in a matter of days. Of course, no boat could ever sail
anywhere
from Bohemia because we
have no seas
!”

“Well, that’s what you get when you walk through a Loophole.”

“Loophole?”

Neel studied him. “You really don’t know how you ended up on that beach, do you?”

“A friend of mine’s missing, in trouble.”

“Looks like your pal ain’t the only one.”

“I tried searching the forest, but all I found was four headless monsters.”

“Monsters? Are you telling tales?”

“Why would I lie? I mean, aside from the fact that you’re a kidnapper who has ruined my life and definitely doesn’t deserve the truth.”

“Huh.
Monsters.
”

“Gray, scaly, and clawed.”

Neel filed that information away to tell Treb. Slowly, he replied, “Look, I don’t know anything about your beasties. But a Loophole’s like . . . a shortcut. A way of hopping from one place to another. One minute you’re in a Bohemian forest, the next you’re off the northern coast of Portugal, not far away from North Africa, on a speedy ship like the
Pacolet
. There are Loopholes all over the world, but they’re hard to find. Going through one’s like threading a needle blind. You can’t miss it by even a hair. My people happened upon your Loophole by accident, ages ago. We’re a roaming sort, so we’ve discovered a couple of other shortcuts like this. It’s rare for a fellow to just stumble through a Loophole, like you did. Guess you got lucky.” Neel smirked.

A small, black-haired girl ran up the deck and dashed between them. Laughing, she raced along the bow and turned around to sprint to the other end of the ship. She pattered away.

Neel felt suddenly somber. “Are we done playing ask-and-answer? I’ve got work.”

“One more thing . . . ” The
gadje
gazed after the girl. “Why are there children on this boat? Babies, even? That girl’s no more than three years old. I’ve seen old people on this ship, families . . . they can’t be sailors. Don’t they get in your way?”

“They do. But that ain’t the point.”

“So Sea-Gypsies always travel with their families?”

“Most of them aren’t our relations. Look, Pinky”—Neel’s voice sharpened—“there’s plenty in this world you don’t know a bit about. Your precious, white, mighty prince—”

The
gadje
raised his hand. “I hate his guts.”

“Oh. Good. Because that sunken wreck of a human took it into his head to lock all us Roma up and swallow the key. Happened real sudden. Not a lot we could do about it, but we did what we could. The Maraki—the Roma tribe you so sweetly call ‘Sea-Gypsies’—sent word for the free Roma in Bohemia to slip through the Loophole to the beach and gather there. The families on board had to leave behind their wagons and horses and I don’t know what all.” His throat tightened. He cleared it. “Treb and I had just loaded the last of ’em onto the
Pacolet
and rowed back to the beach in the launch to clean up. Wanted to hide any trace of campsites. No need for the Portuguese to notice something special about that stretch of sand. That beach is
our
secret. We were ready to leave when you turned up, and if you’d stepped through that Loophole fifteen minutes later, you and I never would have laid eyes on each other.”

There was a pause. “Like you said,” murmured the
gadje
, “I guess I was just lucky.”