Behemoth

TWENTY-SIX

“You should have let me kill him,” Zaven’s daughter said as they climbed the broad staircase inside the warehouse.

The creature giggled from the birdcage, and Alek wondered what madness had gotten into it.

Zaven clicked his tongue sadly. “Ah, Lilit. You are your mother’s daughter.”

“He was talking to a reporter!”

Alek realized that Lilit was speaking German, deliberately letting him understand. He found it rather awkward, being threatened by a girl. Almost as embarrassing as mistaking her for a man.

“Nene will agree with me,” Lilit said, fixing Alek with a cold glare. “Then we’ll see who has the advantage.”

He rolled his eyes at her. As if a mere girl could get the better of him. It had all been the creature’s fault for distracting him. The birdcage seemed heavier than ever, climbing these endless stairs. How high up were they going?

“Mr. Malone was carrying a message for me,” he explained. “From my friend aboard the Leviathan. I didn’t tell him anything about your Committee!”

“Maybe not,” Lilit said. “But I followed you an hour before you noticed me. Stupidity can be just as deadly as treachery.”

Alek took a slow breath, wishing for the hundredth time that Volger were here.

But Zaven only laughed. “Fah! There’s no shame in being trailed by my daughter, Alek. She’s a master of the shadows.” He thumped his chest. “Trained by the best there is!”

“It’s true, I didn’t notice you,” Alek said, turning to Lilit. “But was anyone else following me?”

“No. I would have seen them.”

“Well, then. I haven’t given you away to the sultan’s secret police, have I?”

Lilit hmphed and climbed ahead. “We’ll see what Nene says.”

“In any case,” Alek called up after her, “if the Germans find me, they won’t bother trailing me. I’ll simply disappear.”

Lilit didn’t turn to face him, but muttered, “That’s useful to know.”

The staircase continued up, dimly lit by a column of latticed windows letting in gray sunlight. As Zaven lead them above the swirling exhaust fumes on the street, the stairs grew brighter. Small touches of humanity appeared on the cold stone walls—family portraits and the three-barred crosses of the Byzantine Church.

“Zaven,” Alek asked, “do you live here?”

“A masterpiece of deduction,” Lilit said.

“We’ve always lived above the family business,” Zaven said, stopping before a pair of wooden doors with ornate brass fittings. “Whether it was a hat shop or a mechaniks factory. And now that the family business is revolution, we live above the Committee!”

Alek frowned, wondering where this “committee” was. The warehouse felt as still as an empty church; the paint on the walls was cracked, the stairs in disrepair.

As Zaven unlocked the doors, he said, “No disguises at home.”

Lilit gave him an annoyed look, but pulled the desert robes over her head. Beneath them she wore a brilliant red silk dress that almost reached the floor.

Alek noticed again how brown her eyes were, and how beautiful she was. What an idiot he’d been to mistake her for a man.

Zaven pushed through the doors into a riot of color. The apartments’ divans and chairs were covered with vivid silks, the electrikal lamps decorated with rainbows of translucent tiles. A vast Persian rug was spread across the floor, its meticulous geometries woven in the hues of fallen autumn leaves. Sunlight spilled in from a large balcony, setting the whole mosaic aflame.

The furniture had seen better days, however, and the rug was worn through in places.

“Very cozy,” Alek said, “for a revolution.”

“We do our best,” Zaven said, taking in the room with a tired sweep of his eyes. “A proper host would offer you tea first. But we’re already late.”

“Nene doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” Lilit said.

Alek straightened his tunic. Nene was obviously the leader of the group. It would be best to look smart in front of him.

They led him to another set of double doors. Lilit knocked softly, waited a moment, then pushed the doors open.

Unlike the outer apartments, this room was dark, the air heavy with incense and the smell of dusty carpets. The viscous light of an old-fashioned oil lamp turned everything the color of red wine. A dozen wireless receivers sat in the shadows, their tubes softly glowing, the chatter of Morse code filling the air.

Against the far wall stood a huge canopied bed covered with mosquito netting. It rested on four legs carved with drooping folds of skin, like those of a reptile. Within the netting lay a small, thin figure wrapped in white sheets. Two glittering eyes stared out from beneath an explosion of gray hair.

“So this is your German boy?” came a crackly voice. “The one you had to save from the Germans?”

“He’s Austrian,” Zaven said. “But yes, Mother, he’s a Clanker.”

“And a spy, Nene.” Lilit bent to kiss the old woman on the forehead. “I saw him talking to a reporter before he came here!”

Alek slowly let out his breath. The fearsome Nene was simply Zaven’s mother? Was this whole Committee nothing but an eccentric family hobby?

He set down the birdcage and bowed. “Good afternoon, madam.”

“Well, you certainly have an Austrian accent,” she said in excellent German—these Ottomans seemed to know half a dozen languages each. “But there are many Austrians working for the sultan.”

Alek gestured at Zaven. “But your son saw the Germans chasing me.”

“Chasing you straight to one of our walkers,” Nene said. “A rather convenient introduction.”

“I had no idea that machine would catch me when I fell,” Alek argued. “I could have died!”

“You still could,” Lilit muttered.

Alek ignored her, kneeling by the birdcage to untie the cover’s straps. As he stood, he lifted the cage into Nene’s view.

“Would an agent of the sultan have one of these?” he said, then whisked off the cover.

The creature looked out at them all, its huge eyes round. It turned from one face to the next, taking in Zaven’s surprise, Lilit’s suspicion, and finally Nene’s cold, glittering eyes.

“What on earth is that?” she asked.

“A creature from the Leviathan, where I’ve served as engine crew the last two weeks.”

“A Clanker, on the Leviathan?” Nene let out a chuckle. “What nonsense. You probably bought that beast from some backroom shop in the Grand Bazaar.”

Alek drew himself straighter. “I certainly did not, madam. This creature was fabricated by Dr. Nora Darwin Barlow herself.”

“A Darwin, making a cuddly trifle like that? Don’t be absurd. And what use would it be aboard a warship?”

“It was meant to be a gift for the sultan,” Alek said. “As a way to keep the Ottomans out of war. But then it hatched, um … ahead of schedule.”

The old woman raised an eyebrow.

“You see, Nene? He’s a liar!” Lilit said. “And a fool to think anyone would believe his nonsense!”

“Believe,” the creature said, and the room fell silent.

Zaven took a step backward. “It speaks?”

“It’s just a parrot,” Alek said. “Like a message lizard, one that repeats words at random.”

The old woman fixed it with a long, critical stare.

“Whatever it is, I’ve never seen one before. Let me take a closer look.”

Alek opened the cage, and the beast climbed out and up onto his shoulder. He went closer to the bed, holding out a hand. The creature crawled slowly down his arm, returning Nene’s cold stare with its own wide eyed gaze.

Alek saw the woman’s expression soften, just as Klopp’s and Bauer’s did every time he put the creature in their care. Something about its huge eyes and wizened face seemed to generate affection. Even Lilit was struck silent.

Nene reached out and took Alek’s hands. “You have never worked for a living, that’s for sure. But there’s a bit of engine grease under your fingernails.” She rubbed his right thumb. “And you fence, don’t you?”

Alek nodded, impressed.

“Tell me something about the Leviathan that a liar wouldn’t know,” she demanded.

Alek paused a moment, trying to recall all the wonders he’d seen aboard the airship. “There are fléchette bats, flying creatures made of jellyfish, and hawks who wear steel talons.”

“Those beasts have been in the penny papers all week. Try again.”

Alek frowned. He’d never read a newspaper in his life, and had no idea what was public knowledge about the Leviathan. He doubted the Darwinists had shown him any military secrets.

“Well, we fought the Goeben and the Breslau on our way here.”

There was a long moment of silence. From the looks on their faces, it seemed that little fact hadn’t been in the papers.

“The sultan’s new toys?” Nene asked. “When exactly?”

“Eight days ago. We stumbled on them due south of the Dardanelles.

Nene nodded slowly, her eyes sliding to one of the chattering wireless receivers. “It’s possible. Something was certainly afoot last Monday.”

“It was quite a battle,” Alek said. “The Goeben’s Tesla cannon almost put us all into the sea!”

The three exchanged glances, then Zaven said, “Tesla cannon?”

Alek smiled. At least he knew something that these revolutionaries might find useful. “That tower on her aft deck might look like a wireless transmitter, but it’s an electrikal weapon. It makes lightning. I know that sounds absurd, but—”

Nene silenced him with a raised hand. “It does not. Come for a walk with me, boy.”

“A walk?” Alek asked. He’d assumed the woman was an invalid.

“Onto the balcony,” she ordered, and suddenly the delicate sound of a clockwork mechanism filled the room. One of the bed’s wrinkled legs took a slow, smooth step forward.

Alek jumped back, and Lilit laughed from across the room. The creature crawled back up to his shoulder, echoing her giggle.

“Haven’t you ever seen a turtle move?” Nene asked, smiling.

Alek took another step back, getting out of the bed’s way as it lumbered toward the double doors. “Yes, but I never thought of sleeping on one.”

“You sleep on one every night, boy. The world itself rests on a turtle’s back!”

Alek smiled at her. “My mother used to tease me with that old wives’ tale.”

“Old wives’ tale?” Nene cried, her voice crackling. “The notion is perfectly scientific. The world rests upon a turtle, which itself stands on the back of an elephant!”

Alek tried not to laugh. “Then what does the elephant stand on, madam?”

“Don’t try to be clever, young man.” She narrowed her eyes. “It’s elephants all the way down!”

The bed made its slow way from the bedroom toward the balcony doors. As he followed, carefully matching its turtle’s pace, Alek wondered at the perfection of the mechanism. Clockwork machines ran on wound-up springs instead of noisy steam or gas engines, so the bed’s movements were smooth and slow, ideal for an invalid.

But the woman lying in it had to be mad, with her talk of elephants. All three of them were a bit peculiar, in fact. They reminded Alek of his own poor relations, once-wealthy families who’d fallen on hard times but still had an inflated sense of their own importance.

The night before, Zaven had said they’d been part of the Young Turk uprising six years ago. But was this strange family a real threat to the sultan, or simply wallowing in past glories?

Of course, Zaven’s walker had been nothing to sneeze at.

Out on the balcony Alek realized that the family’s apartments were built atop the warehouse, the rooftop surrounding them like a small plot of land. An odd place to live, but it had commanding views of the city. From this height they could see both the Sea of Marmara and the sparkling inlet of the Golden Horn.

There she was, just as Eddie Malone had said—the Goeben, resting beside a long pier. Her huge kraken-fighting arms were working above the surface, helping to load cargo.

Nene pointed a withered finger at the docks. “How do you know about this Tesla cannon.”

“It fired at us,” Alek said. “It almost set the whole ship aflame.”

“But how do you know its name, boy? I doubt you guessed it.”

“Ah.” Alek wondered how much to tell her. “One of my men is a master of mechaniks. He’d seen experimental models of the cannon.”

“Your men have knowledge of German secret weapons, yet you served aboard the Leviathan?” Nene shook her head in disbelief. “Tell me who you really are. At once!”

Alek took a deep breath, ignoring Lilit’s cold smile. “I’m an Austrian nobleman, madam. My father was against this war, and the Germans had him killed for it. My men and I were hiding in the Alps when the Leviathan crash-landed there.”

“And they simply invited you aboard?”

“We helped the Darwinists escape. Our Stormwalker was damaged, and their airship’s engines were destroyed. So we put the two together, so to speak, so that we could both escape the Germans. But once we were airborne, it became clear they considered us prisoners of war. We had to jump ship.” He spread his hands. “So here we are, looking for allies to fight with.”

“Allies,” the creature repeated softly.

“I want revenge on the Germans,” Alek said. “The same as you do.”

There was a long silence, then Nene shook her head.

“I don’t know what to make of you, boy. Clanker engines on a hydrogen breather? It’s ridiculous. And yet … no spy of the sultan’s would dare tell a story so unlikely.”

“Wait,” Lilit said, taking her grandmother’s hand. “Remember when the Leviathan flew over the city yesterday? And we thought it funny how the engines were smoking, like Clanker airships’ do?” She glanced at Alek. “Not that he’s telling the truth.”

Nene shook her head again. “No doubt this boy saw them as well, and that was what inspired this bizarre story.”

“Madam, I don’t enjoy being called a liar,” Alek said firmly. “It makes me a stronger ally that I know both Darwinist and Clanker secrets! I have military training and gold. My men and I can pilot walkers and fix them as well. You must let us help you, unless you’re only playing at revolution!”

Lilit sprang to her feet, her teeth bared. Zaven stood silent, but moved a hand to his knife.

Nene spoke very calmly. “Young man, you have no idea what this struggle has cost my family—our fortune, our station in society.” She gently took Lilit’s hand. “And this girl’s poor mother as well. How dare you call us amateurs!”

Alek swallowed, realizing that he’d gone too far.

“I doubt you can help us,” Nene continued. “I know an aristocrat when I see one. And spoiled brats like you never help anyone but themselves.”

The words struck Alek like a kick in the stomach—this was how people always saw him, as a pampered fool, no matter how hard he tried. His knees bent, and he found himself sitting on the bed.

“I’m sorry for speaking like an idiot,” he said. “And I’m sorry about your mother, Lilit. I lost my parents too. I just want to fight back somehow.”

“You lost both your parents?” Nene said, and her voice grew softer. “Who are you, boy?”

Alek looked into the old woman’s eyes, and realized that he had two choices—he could either trust her or go back to being alone. Without allies he and his men could do nothing but run into the wilds and hide.

But he was here in Istanbul for more than that, he knew.

“Who do you think I am?” he whispered.

“An Austrian nobleman, certainly. Perhaps an archduke’s son?”

He nodded, holding her fierce gaze.

“Then surely you know your mother’s full maiden name. And if you don’t get every last syllable right, my granddaughter will drop you off this roof.”

Alek took a breath, then recited, “Sophie Maria Josephine Albina, Countess Chotek of Chotkow and Wognin.”

Belief dawned at last on the old woman’s face.

“Our meeting is providence,” he said. “I swear I can help you, Nene.”

Inexplicably, Lilit burst into laughter. Zaven let out a low chuckle, and the creature joined in.

“What a charmer,” Lilit said. “He’s adopted you now, Nene!”

Alek realized his mistake. “Nene” wasn’t a name at all, but simply a word for “grandmother,” like “Oma” in German.

“I’m sorry my Armenian is deficient, madam.”

The old woman smiled. “Not to worry. At my age one can never have too many grandchildren. Even if some of them are idiots.”

Alek took a deep breath, managing to hold his tongue.

“Perhaps it’s my old age, but I’m starting to believe you,” Nene said. “Of course, if you are who you say, then surely you can pilot a walker.”

“Show me one, and I’ll prove it to you.”

She nodded, then waved her hand. “Zaven? Perhaps it’s time to introduce His Serene Highness to the Committee.”