Petra, though
why
is beyond my comprehension. You reckless fool.
Laughing
at Ariel. Do you think I invent threats for my own amusement? Why can’t you heed a simple word of warning?”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
Dee stopped abruptly.
“I was laughing at
you
,” Petra said.
Dee opened his mouth, but then shut it.
“Anyway, Ariel wasn’t at all like you said,” Petra continued. “There were no tempests. And Ariel
is
a she,” Petra returned to her earlier point. “Kind of insecty, but definitely a she.”
“ ‘It’ is more appropriate. Ariel doesn’t always look like that. It appeared that way because of you. Because of what you are.”
Petra raised an eyebrow. “I’m a dragonfly?”
“You are a chimera.”
“Right. And is a chimera someone who kicks her captor in the shins, causing him to fall down, conk his head, and lose his memory, making him forget that he was ever a pompous sneak? Because that
does
sound an awful lot like me.”
“Petra, sit down. There are things we must discuss.”
“No. There are games you want to play, and I’m sick of it.”
“No more games.” Dee reached for his waist and seemed to unbuckle the air. He offered his empty hands to her.
She took the invisible sword, and the weight of it calmed her a little.
“I ask you again to sit, Petra. Allow me to explain what you are, for truly there are few of your kind in this world.”
9
Riddles
I HAVE A BROTHER with four legs and a big hat,” said one of the children sitting in a circle at the stern of the ship. “What’s his name?”
“Too easy!” cried a boy in a red shirt. “Everybody knows that one! It’s a table!”
Parents hovered near their children as they challenged one another with riddles. A few feet away, the
gadje
sat cross-legged, staring intently at the cluster of people. Two sailors worked close by. Klara was coiling rope and Brishen was scrubbing dried fish scales off the deck, but they both listened to the children’s game.
“I’ve got one,” Klara said, flicking back her braids. “My sister is tiny, thin, and has a long tail that trails behind her.”
“I know,” Brishen said, “it’s a—”
Klara elbowed him.
He gave her a guilty look. “A squid?” He winked at her.
“A
squid
?” the children yelled. “It’s not a squid!” “What kind of idiot would think
that
?” “Brishen, you’ve been out in the sun too long!”
“Maybe, maybe,” he said. “But what is it, then?”
They fell silent. Then one girl raised a timid hand. “Um, Klara, is your sister . . . a needle?”
“That’s right!” Klara sang.
Neel was watching this from a distance, his arms folded across his chest as he leaned against the port side of the ship. He noticed that the blond boy was running his fingers absentmindedly through a patch of sand by his feet, but his gaze never wavered from the riddlers. Neel wondered what the
gadje
found so interesting about a game he couldn’t possibly understand. The children continued to chatter in Romany.
“My sister has a big belly, two long hairpins, and rocks herself to sleep every night.”
“A ship!”
“I have a brother,” began the boy in the red shirt, “who has many round eyes and a mouth that opens sideways. He has a home wherever he goes.”
There was a pause. Neel guessed what the answer was. Judging by the faraway looks on the parents’ faces, they were thinking the same thing.
Everyone was astonished when the
gadje
cleared his throat. His accent was thick, but he spoke in perfect Romany: “Is it a wagon?”
“I THINK HE ’ S CUTE .” Klara chewed on a dried carrot.
“You would,” Ashe said. She passed the flatbread down the table. “Cradle-robber.”
A few men looked up from their stew, alarmed by this conversation.
“Not
that
kind of cute,” Klara said. “Cute like a little lamb. A lamb who says, ‘I is thirsty. May have tar to drink?’ ”
The Maraki chuckled.
A young boy set down his