Behemoth (17 page)

After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the lady boffin cleared her throat. “Our little gift is not, of course, a replacement for the
Osman
or its companion creature. Though His Majesty regrets that unfortunate affair.”

“Does he?”

“Profusely,” Dr. Barlow said. “We have only borrowed
the
Osman
because our need is greater. Britain is at war, and your empire is—and hopefully shall stay—at peace.”

“Peace has its burdens too.” The sultan crossed his arms, and the statue followed suit.

Watching more closely now, Deryn noticed that the machine’s movements were a bit stiff, like a sailor caught with too much rum under his belt and trying to act sober. Perhaps to aid the illusion, the sultan moved slowly and carefully, like an actor in a pantomime show. Deryn wondered if he controlled the automaton himself, or whether there were engineers watching from some hidden cubbyhole, their hands scurrying across levers and dials.

Somehow, wondering about its inner workings made the huge contraption less unsettling.

“I am sure your cares are great, My Lord Sultan.” Dr. Barlow looked toward the egg box. “And we hope that this fabricated creature, humble though it is, will prove a welcome distraction from them.”

“The Germans give us railroads, airships, and wireless towers,” the sultan replied. “All the glories of the
mekanzimat
. They train our armies and service our machines. They rebuilt this palace and helped us crush the revolution six years ago. And all your king can offer is a
distraction
?”

The sultan gestured at the egg box, and the automaton’s hand stretched out across the room, stirring the air
as it passed over Deryn’s head. She hunched her shoulders, wondering how powerful those giant fingers were.

Dr. Barlow didn’t seem ruffled at all. “Perhaps it is only a start,” she said, bowing her head a little more. “But we offer this gift with hope for a happier future.”

“A gift? After so many humiliations?” The sultan looked at the egg again. “Perhaps we have been distracted long enough by your gifts.”

Suddenly the giant fingers wrapped around the box, closing into a fist. The crackle of splintering wood echoed from the stone walls, and pieces skittered like matchsticks across the floor. The egg burst with a sickening crack, and translucent strands oozed between the metal fingers. As they pooled together on the stone floor, the reek of sulfur joined coal smoke and incense.

A gasp of horror escaped the lady boffin’s mouth, and Deryn stared, wide eyed, at the closed fist, then at the sultan. Oddly, the man seemed surprised himself, as if he hadn’t realized what he was doing. Of course,
he
hadn’t done anything—the automaton had.

Deryn looked at the sultan’s outstretched hand. His fingers were still open, simply gesturing at the egg box, not curled into a fist.…

Her eyes darted around the room. The Kizlar Agha and the crewmen who had carried the egg box wore astonished expressions, and there was no one else in the room.
But then she spotted an upper gallery behind the statue’s head. It was covered over with latticed windows, and for a moment Deryn thought she saw eyes peering down between the slats.

She glanced at Dr. Barlow, trying to get her to notice the sultan’s open hand. But the lady boffin’s face was pale and frozen, her poise shattered along with the egg.

“I see, Lord Sultan, that I have come too late.” Despite her devastated expression, there was steel in her voice.

The sultan must have heard it too. He cleared his throat softly before speaking.

“Perhaps not, Dr. Barlow.” He brought his palms together, but the automaton stayed motionless, its giant hand frozen around the shattered, leaking egg. “In a way the scales have already been balanced.”

“How do you mean?”

“Just today we have been able to replace the dreadnought you ‘borrowed’ from us, with two ships instead of one.” The sultan smiled. “May I present to you the new commander of the Ottoman navy, Admiral Wilhelm Souchon.”

A man strode from the shadows, and Deryn’s jaw dropped. He wore a crisp blue German naval uniform, except for the crimson fez on his head. He clicked his heels and bowed to the sultan, then turned to salute Dr. Barlow.

“Madam, I welcome you to Istanbul.”

Deryn swallowed. So that was how the two German ironclads had disappeared—the Ottomans had hidden them, for the price of owning them! And they hadn’t just taken the ships, they’d put the master of the
Goeben
in charge of their whole barking navy.

The lady boffin simply stared, dumbstruck for the first time Deryn had ever seen. The silence stretched out awkwardly, the only sound the last innards of the egg dripping onto the stone floor.

Finally Deryn cleared her throat and returned the German’s salute.

“As ranking officer present, I extend the thanks of the British Air Service. For all your, um, hospitality.”

Admiral Souchon looked coolly at her. “I don’t believe we are acquainted, sir.”

“Midshipman Dylan Sharp, at your service.”

“A midshipman. I see.” He turned back to Dr. Barlow and offered his hand. “Forgive me, madam, for the military formalities. I almost forgot you were a civilian. It is a pleasure to meet you. And how lucky that, thanks to my recent appointment, we do not meet as enemies.”

The lady boffin extended her hand and let the admiral kiss it.

“Charmed, I’m sure.” She slowly gathered herself, turning back to the sultan. “Two ironclads is indeed a most impressive gift. In fact, I am so moved by this German
generosity that I must offer another gift on behalf of the British government.”

“Really?” The sultan leaned forward. “And what would that be?”

“The
Leviathan
, Lord Sultan.”

The room went silent again, and Deryn blinked. Had the lady boffin gone
completely barking mad?

“It is the most famous of the great hydrogen breathers,” Dr. Barlow continued. “As valuable as the
Osman
and its companion put together, and a creation that your German friends could never match.”

The sultan looked quite pleased, and Deryn noticed that Admiral Souchon’s smile had frozen on his face. She herself was dizzy, unable to believe what the lady boffin was saying.

“Dr. Barlow,” she spoke up. “It is, of course, customary to check with the captain before, um … giving away his ship.”

“Ah, of course.” Dr. Barlow waved her hand. “Thank you for reminding me, Mr. Sharp. We shall require a few days to communicate with the Admiralty, Lord Sultan, before effecting this transfer.”

“That is unfortunate, Dr. Barlow,” Admiral Souchon said, putting a hand on the hilt of his sword. “The limit for harboring a combatant ship in wartime is twenty-four hours. International law is very strict on this matter.”

“May I remind you, Admiral,” the sultan said mildly, “that your own grace period was extended while negotiations took place?”

The German opened his mouth, then closed it and bowed, low. “Of course, My Lord Sultan. I am at your command.”

Leaning back on his divan, the sultan smiled and folded his hands. Without the automaton mimicking him, Deryn noticed that he moved more fluidly. Or perhaps he was simply enjoying pitting two great powers against each other.

“Then we are all agreed,” he said. “Dr. Barlow, you have four days to get me the
Leviathan
.”

Thirty minutes later the
Stamboul
rose into the air again. As it passed over the shimmering strait in a slow turn back toward the airfield, the Kizlar Agha joined Deryn and Dr. Barlow at the railing, his face pale.

“I do not know what to say, madam. My Lord Sultan was not himself today.”

“He seemed firm enough in his convictions,” Dr. Barlow said, her voice still quavering from shock.

“Indeed. But he has not been the same since moving back into the palace. The Germans have changed so much there. Not all of us approve.”

Deryn frowned, wanting to mention what she’d noticed
about the automaton. But she couldn’t in front of the sultan’s closest adviser.

The mechanical owl still perched on the Kizlar Agha’s shoulder, but she noticed that the cylinder on its chest was no longer spinning. Perhaps it was some sort of recording machine, and the man had switched it off to keep his words a secret.

“Are you saying that he may change his mind about the kaiser’s gifts?” Dr. Barlow asked carefully.

The Kizlar Agha spread his hands. “That, I do not know, madam. But our empire has fought two wars in the last ten years, and a bloody revolution as well. Not all of us want to join this madness in Europe.”

Dr. Barlow nodded. “Pray, then, make yourselves heard.”

“We shall try. Peace be upon you, and upon us all,” he said, then bowed and returned to the prow of the airship.

“How interesting,” the lady boffin said as he walked away. “Perhaps there is still hope for this country.”

“What did he mean exactly?” Deryn asked.

“Perhaps he plans to give his emperor good advice.” She shrugged. “Or perhaps something more. Sultans have been replaced before.”

Deryn turned back to the railing, and suddenly there they were below—the
Goeben
and the
Breslau
harbored in the Golden Horn.

“The admiral wasn’t lying,” she said, seeing crimson
Ottoman flags fluttering from the ironclads’ mainmasts. “They must have been hiding up in the Black Sea yesterday.”

“I should have known,” Dr. Barlow said. “Those ships were trapped, worthless to the Germans. So why not offer them as bribes?”

“Aye, and speaking of bribes …” Deryn swallowed, almost afraid to ask. “What was that about giving the
Leviathan
away? You haven’t gone barking mad, have you?”

Dr. Barlow gave her a sidelong glance. “Don’t be tiresome, Mr. Sharp. That was merely a ploy to extend our time here. Which of course you knew, as you played your part to perfection. Another four days may prove quite useful.”

Deryn frowned. Played her part? She’d only said the first thing that had come into her head. “But if we’re not going to give the Ottomans the ship, what’s the point of staying?”

“Really, Mr. Sharp,” the lady boffin said, the steel returning to her voice. “Do you suppose I would journey across Europe without an alternate plan?”

“And
this
is your plan, ma’am? Making false promises to the sultan to make him even angrier?”

“Hardly.” The lady boffin sighed. “I doubt the sultan’s anger will make much difference, one way or the other. The Ottoman Empire is already in the Germans’ hands.”

“Aye, that’s true enough,” Deryn said. “And speaking of hands, I’m not sure that the sultan really meant to crush that egg.”

Dr. Barlow turned a cold gaze on Deryn. “Are you saying that my life’s work was destroyed
by accident
?”

“Not by accident, ma’am. But the sultan didn’t make a fist. He was just pointing at the egg, and then the automaton went and squashed your poor beastie, all on its own!”

Dr. Barlow was silent for a moment, then slowly nodded. “Of course. I’m an idiot! That throne room was built by German engineers, so
they
were in control, not the sultan. They forced his hand, so to speak.”

“Aye.” Deryn stared back at the water. The
Stamboul
had completed its turn, and the
Goeben
was receding into the distance. But she could still see the forbidding shape of the Tesla cannon, its struts covered with fluttering seabirds. “Makes you wonder how they’ll force the sultan’s hand next, doesn’t it?”

“Indeed, Mr. Sharp.”

Deryn looked at the water stretching into the distance. The Royal Navy’s Mediterranean fleet was stationed just south of the strait, still waiting for the
Goeben
and
Breslau
to emerge. And in the opposite direction, the Russian navy sat in its Black Sea ports, not yet aware that their old enemy the sultan had two new ironclads.

All it would take was a quick sortie by Admiral Souchon in either direction, and the Ottomans would be dragged into war.

“It’s probably foolish, leaving the hotel with so many Germans about.”

There was no reply as Alek buttoned the jacket of his new suit.

“But the Germans don’t know what I look like,” he continued. “And the Ottomans don’t even know we’re here.”

Alek put on the fez and stared at himself in the mirror, waiting. But again no reply came.

“Anyone would think I was a proper Turk in these clothes.” Alek flicked at the fez’s tassel. Was it meant to hang on the left or the right? “And if I have to speak German, at least I’ve been practicing my common accent, so I don’t sound like such a prince anymore.”

“Such a prince,” the creature finally said.

“Well, that’s your opinion,” Alek said, then sighed.
How had he gotten into this habit of talking to the beast? The animal was probably memorizing all his secrets.

It was better than sharing his doubts with the men, he supposed. And there was something about the creature’s wise, contented expression that made Alek feel as if it really were listening, not just repeating words at random.

Alek checked himself in the mirror one last time, then turned toward the door.