The Celestial Globe: The Kronos Chronicles: Book II (23 page)

When they had finished their last bout, Kit said something unexpected. “The winter ball is this Friday night. Are you going?”

Petra snorted. “No.”

Kit was silent. He set his sword very carefully on its rack.

“Why?” Petra asked. “Will it be interesting?”

“Not if you don’t come.”

She couldn’t tell if he was joking.

“I’ll be there,” he said. “Yes, I know. Silly, isn’t it? Walsingham
used to drag me to every dance when I worked for him. Throw the entire court together, pour wine down their throats, and what do they do? They say things they shouldn’t. Of course, I haven’t been officially on the guest list since I was fired, but the guards and I are old friends.”

“So you think balls are fun,” Petra said skeptically.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then why . . . ?”

“The free food.” He grinned. “Also, I like to keep my hand in the spying game. I don’t get paid for it anymore, but I still enjoy knowing what’s going on.” He paused. “Petra, can I be frank with you?”

“Yes,” she said. “I’d like that.”

“That’s what I thought. Actually, it’s one of your problems in fencing.
You
are too frank. Every move you make is obvious. You’re too direct, and you expect everyone else to fight the same way.”

She folded her arms. The conversation had quickly moved from being confusing to being irritating, and she said so.

“There!” Kit pointed. “You see? What if you had to pretend that you liked somebody? Could you do it? I don’t think so. I hate to talk in clichés, but your face is an open book. And it’s been hard for me to see you almost every day, when I have no idea
why
I’ve been hired to train you, and why you look so”—he took a breath—“so lost.”

Petra was silent.

“You don’t have to tell me anything,” said Kit, “but I think there’s something wrong, and I’d like to help.”

She hesitated. “What would going to the winter ball have to do with helping me?”

“Petra, you don’t belong here. I can tell. You didn’t even know who Walsingham is! I’ve spent more than a month of afternoons
with you, and I can say that you are as clueless about England’s politics as you are about its history, towns, and countryside.”

Petra instantly regretted (again) that she never brought Astrophil to sword practice. He would have been able to fill in the holes of her ignorance.

“You look like no English girl I’ve ever seen,” Kit continued. “You speak my language perfectly, but you’re a foreigner. I know what Agatha Dee can do, and I think she’s done it to you. Let me show you around Whitehall Palace. I can tell you who’s who, and take your mind off whatever is bothering you.”

Petra looked away.

“And if you don’t come to the ball,” Kit persuaded, “I’ll end up stuffing myself full of quail eggs, and will be utterly bored.”

Petra was weakening.

“Can I bribe you?” asked Kit. “How about this: I promise to teach you a neat little sequence with the sword. I invented it myself. To your opponent, it will look like defensive moves, but they’re actually steps of attack.”

“You’re supposed to teach me things like that anyway.”

“Yes, but if I see you in the Watching Chamber in four days’ time, I promise to teach it to you nicely.”

P
ETRA SET DOWN
the iron key and reached for a silver bracelet, the second item to be covered in that day’s lesson with John Dee. “I’d like to go to the winter ball,” she told him.

“You would?” Dee arched one brow.

You would?
Astrophil nearly fell off her ear.
Petra, are you feeling ill?

“What?” she said to both of them. “Do you think I can’t dance?”

I
know
you cannot,
Astrophil replied.

Dee folded his hands. “I suppose you believe you can gather some information about Gabriel Thorn from the courtiers. Anybody who would know anything is not going to talk about it to a thirteen-year-old girl. We made an amusing little bargain, my dear, but I don’t see how you can keep it. Perhaps you should give it up. Focus on your training.”

Petra flung the bracelet across the room.

“Oh, very well,” said Dee. “If you insist on being childish, then perhaps you belong in a room full of self-absorbed courtiers. And, as it happens, Madinia and Margaret have been pressuring me for weeks to make you go to the ball.”

“They have?” Petra hadn’t thought that the sisters cared whether she went or not.

“Yes. But I assumed you would not enjoy it, and I didn’t think it was wise to force you to do yet one more thing against your will.” He paused, then added, “It is helpful that you wish to attend the ball. Queen Elizabeth is curious to meet you.”

“What?
Why?
What did you tell her about me?”

“Everything. She is my queen.”

“But you told me to be careful! To keep my identity secret! What about Kit? You told me not to tell
him
.”

“He is an entirely different matter than the queen of England,” Dee said sharply. “I hired him to train you because he is highly skilled, and roughly your size and age. But he is not to be trusted.”

“I don’t trust
you
.”

“I know that, my dear. Now, fetch that bracelet. Open your mind and answer these questions. Where does it come from? What was it before it was forged? Who used to own it, and how did it come into my possession?”

L
AUGHTER ECHOED OVER
the twilit Thames as the many boats drew closer to Whitehall Palace. The Dees, however, were silent. Petra studied Agatha Dee. The woman’s face was as blank as ever. It was unnatural.

But when they reached the dockhouse, Petra forgot about Agatha Dee as her stomach swarmed with nervousness.

Petra and the Dees slipped into the stream of guests walking down a mirrored hallway, and she caught a glimpse of herself. She looked like a stranger.

She wore an old garnet-colored dress of Margaret’s with a high collar that hid the Gristleki scar, and the neckline was square-cut, just enough to expose the small wings of her collarbone. “That’s too plain!” Madinia had shrilled. “You’ll look frumpy!”

“Good,” replied Petra.

Sarah had lengthened the dress. Then she fussed over Petra, combing and trimming, braiding and pinning, twisting and curling. When Petra had asked Madinia if she could borrow some silver hairpins, the girl agreed, and gleefully jabbed them into place. Later, Madinia was too excited about the ball to notice an extra metallic glint in Petra’s hair. It was Astrophil, clutched like a flower-shaped pin around a small braid.

Petra followed the Dees into the Watching Chamber, where torches blazed. A long table was heaped with roasted meat and candied fruit. Musicians played their string instruments in a corner, and people danced in the center of the room. The swift, complex dance was dizzying to Petra’s eyes.

Ready to join the dancers?
Astrophil said wickedly.
I promise not to count the number of times you step on people’s feet.
If the spider had seen Petra fencing with Kit, he might not have teased her like this. He would have realized that she moved gracefully when she was confident that she could.

Petra looked at the dancers and shuddered.

“Come.” Margaret reached for Petra’s hand. “We are going to greet the queen.”

Petra walked between the sisters, behind their parents. John Dee ignored Petra, which was more than fine with her.

As they drew closer to Queen Elizabeth, Petra’s jaw tightened with determination. She had a question to ask.

A bubble of space surrounded the seated queen. When she spoke with a lord or lady, their conversation was both private and public. It was private, because no one could hear what was being said. It was public, because no one could mistake the expression on the queen’s face. Just as John Dee had said to Petra during her first visit to the palace, there was always somebody watching in the Watching Chamber, and tonight they were all watching the
queen. Right now, several eyes in the room were turned toward the man kneeling at her feet, and everyone could see the frown on Queen Elizabeth’s face as she spoke. The old woman pounded the arm of her throne, her bullet-black eyes wide with anger. The man slunk away.

Then Petra and the Dees were brought before the queen. Petra had thought she would be forced to wait while the adults said whatever dull things they had to say, but Dee waved her forward. “This is the girl in question, Your Majesty.”

Petra stepped in front of the throne.

“Come closer,” the queen ordered, so Petra did.

Queen Elizabeth’s face was sunken, her gaze sharp. Petra could tell that her orange hair was a wig, but the queen wore it like a battle helmet.

“Well, child, did no one teach you how to kneel?”

Petra obeyed. Then she drew her breath to speak.

But Queen Elizabeth spoke first, her hand lifting Petra’s chin. “Petra Kronos, our little Bohemian refugee.” The queen studied her. “So young, and so ready to break hearts.”

Petra asked her question: “Your Majesty, do you have any news of my father?”

The queen’s eyes shot to Dee. “No,” she said in a final tone.

“But will you—?”

Dee looked appalled.

The queen’s grip on Petra’s chin tightened. “People so rarely recognize when they have become tiresome. Why is that, do you think?”

“Please, I—”

Stop,
said Astrophil.

But she knows something! I can tell!

And I can tell that she will not answer you. Petra, she could gain political favor with Bohemia by turning you over to the prince. You
are under Queen Elizabeth’s protection. Do not make her regret it. Now, repeat after me . . .

“I am sorry, Your Majesty,” Petra mouthed Astrophil’s words. “I know my manners are poor. Forgive me. I was startled by your brilliance.”

“Oh ho!” The queen chuckled merrily. “A flatterer! Well, go play now, child, and speak your sugared words to someone who believes them.” She patted Petra’s cheek, and the girl knew their conversation was over.

Without paying attention to where she was going, Petra stalked away. She fumed at Astrophil:
You were laying it on a bit thick, weren’t you? “Brilliance”! Hah! I can’t believe I let you talk me into doing that.

It was for your own good.

Who cares about my own good?
Petra argued, walking into a shadowy corner of the room. There was only one other person near her, a seated man scribbling on a piece of paper he had spread over his right knee.
Maybe it would be better if the queen sent me back to Prague. Dee wouldn’t cross
her
decision. And at least then I’d be with Father.

In a jail cell, or worse!
The spider trembled in her hair.
Please do not talk like that. We have a plan, remember?

“Pardon me,” said the man next to her. He was the same one she had seen kneeling before the queen. “I don’t recall seeing you at court before, and I thought I knew everyone. Who are you?”

“No one special,” she muttered.

Though still seated, he bowed from the waist. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, No One Special. I am a Courtier in Disgrace. Perhaps we are distantly related. I wonder if you can help me. Do you know of a word that rhymes with
entangles
?”

“Um . . .
strangles
?”

“No, no, no! That won’t do. Lovers don’t strangle each other. At
least, not at first. I’m writing a love poem, not a coroner’s report. Absolutely no strangling.”

What had Ariel said to Astrophil?
Never trust a poet.
Petra considered the man more carefully. It was hard to believe that this man had any connection to Ariel’s dire words, but Petra asked, “You’re a poet?”

“Sometimes. Especially when I’m in deep trouble. Between you and me, I’m not really writing a love poem. It’s more of a flatter-the-queen poem. But it’s not going so well . . . I am better at composing humorous verse. Have you ever heard my poem ‘To a Lady with an Unruly and Ill-Mannered Dog Who Bit Several Persons of Great Importance’?”