Scott Westerfeld - Leviathan

“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.”

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, I won’t tell anyone.”

Not about his crying, nor who he really was. That was obvious now. She’d been a ninny not to see it before. Alek had to be the son of that duke fellow who’d started all this. Deryn remembered the day she’d come aboard the Leviathan , hearing how some aristocrat had got himself killed, riling up the Clankers.

All this bother over one barking duke, she’d thought so many times. Of course, it probably didn’t seem that way to Alek. Having your parents die was exactly like the world exploding, like a war being declared.

Deryn remembered after Da’s accident, her mother and the aunties trying to turn her back into a proper girl— skirts, tea parties, all the rest. As if they wanted to erase the old Deryn and everything she’d been. She’d had to fight like mad to stay who she was.

That was the trick—to keep punching, no matter what.

“The boffin will get the captain on our side,” Deryn said softly. “And then we’ll be out of here in no time. You’ll see.”

Not that she was entirely sure that Alek’s engine plan would work. But anything was better than sitting here hoping for a lucky breeze.

Alek swallowed again, trying to get his voice back.

“They poisoned them,” he finally managed. “They tried bombs and pistols first, to make it look like Serb anarchists. But it was poison in the end.”

“And it was just a way to start this war?”

He nodded. “The Germans thought the war had to come. It was just a question of when—and the sooner the better for them.”

Deryn started to say that sounded barking crazy, then remembered all the crewmen who’d been so eager for battle. She supposed there was always some sod spoiling for a fight.

But it still didn’t make sense. “Your family are in charge of Austria, aren’t they?”

“For the last five hundred years or so, yes.”

“So if the Germans killed your da, why is Austria helping them instead of giving the kaiser a good kicking? Doesn’t your family know what really happened?”

“They know—or at least suspect. But my father wasn’t very popular with the rest of the family.”

“What in blisters did he do wrong?”

“He married my mother.”

Deryn raised an eyebrow. She’d seen family squabbles over who the children married, but they usually stopped short of bomb-throwing.

“Are your relations completely barking mad?”

“No, we’re rulers of an empire.”

Deryn reckoned that amounted to pretty much the same thing, but didn’t say so. Talking about it seemed to be helping Alek get control, though, so she asked, “What was so wrong with her?”

“My mother wasn’t from a ruling house. She wasn’t exactly common , mind you—she had a princess among her ancestors. But to marry into the Hapsburgs you have to be proper royalty.”

“Well, of course,” Deryn said. Alek’s superior manner suddenly made a lot more sense. She supposed that with his father dead the boy was a duke on his own—or an arch- duke, which sounded even loftier.

“So when they fell in love,” he said softly, “they had to keep it secret.”

“Well, that’s dead romantic,” Deryn exclaimed. When Alek gave her a funny look, she lowered her voice a bit and added, “You know, sneaking about.”

Something like a smile appeared on his face. “Yes, I suppose it was, especially the way my mother told it. She was a lady-in-waiting for Princess Isabella of Croÿ. When my father began to visit, Isabella thought he must be courting one of her daughters. But she could never figure out which one he liked. Then one day he left his watch behind on the tennis courts.”

Deryn snorted. “Aye. Back home I’m always leaving my watch on the tennis courts.”

Alek rolled his eyes at her, but kept talking. “So Isabella opened the watch, hoping to find a picture of one of her daughters inside.”

Deryn’s eyes widened. “And there was a picture of your mother instead!”

Alek nodded. “Isabella was very cross. She dismissed my mother from service.”