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intent, I’m certain of it. But since the czar’s message arrived, our course has changed.” Volger drummed his fingers on the map. “There must be a clue in that cargo we picked up from the Russians. Has Dylan told you anything about it?”
    “I haven’t been able to ask him. He’s still taking the pallet apart, because of the ballast alert.”
    “Because of the what?” the wildcount asked, and Alek found himself smiling. At least he understood
something
that Volger didn’t.
    “Just after we picked up the cargo, an alert sounded—two short rings of the Klaxon. You may remember that happening in the Alps, when we had to throw my father’s gold away.”
    “Don’t remind me.”
    “I shouldn’t have to,” Alek said. Volger had almost doomed them all by smuggling a quarter ton of gold aboard. “A ballast alert means the ship is overweight, and Dylan has been in the cargo bay with Dr. Barlow all afternoon. They must be taking apart the cargo, to find out why it’s heavier than expected.”
    “All very logical,” Volger said, then shook his head. “But I still don’t see how one cargo pallet can matter to a ship three hundred meters long. It seems absurd.”
    “It isn’t absurd at all. The
Leviathan
is aerostatic, which means it’s perfectly balanced with the density of the—”
    “Thank you, Your Serene Highness.” Volger held up one hand. “But perhaps you could recount your aeronautics lessons another time.”
    “You might take an interest, Count,” Alek said stiffly.“Seeing as how aeronautics is keeping you from crashing into the ground at this very moment.”
    “Indeed it is. So perhaps we’d best leave it to the experts, eh, Prince?”
    Several sharp retorts came to mind, but Alek held his tongue. Why was Volger in such a foul mood? When the
Leviathan
had first turned east two weeks ago, he’d seemed pleased not to be headed toward Britain and certain imprisonment. The man had gradually adapted to life aboard the
Leviathan
, exchanging information with Dr. Barlow, even taking a liking to Dylan. But for the last day Volger had seemed cross with everyone.
    For that matter, Dylan had stopped delivering breakfast to the wildcount. Had the two of them had a falling-out?
    Volger rolled up his map and shoved it into a desk drawer. “Find out what was in the Russian cargo, even if you have to beat it out of that boy.”
    “By ‘that boy’ I assume you mean my good friend, Dylan?”
    “He’s hardly your friend. You’d be free now if it weren’t for him.”
    “That was my choice,” Alek said firmly. Dylan might have argued for Alek to return to the ship, but it was no use blaming anyone. Alek had made the decision himself. “But I’ll ask him what they found. Perhaps you couldinquire with Dr. Barlow, since you two are on such good terms.”
    Volger shook his head. “That woman tells me only what she finds it convenient for us to know.”
    “Then, I don’t suppose there are any clues in your newspapers. Anything about the Russians needing help in northern Siberia?”
    “Hardly.” Volger pulled a penny paper from the open desk drawer and shoved it at Alek. “But at least that American reporter has stopped writing about you.”
    Alek picked up the paper—the
New York World
. On its front page was a story by Eddie Malone, an American reporter that he and Dylan had met in Istanbul. Malone had learned certain secrets of the revolution, so Alek had traded his life story for the man’s silence. The result was a stream of articles about Alek’s parents’ assassination and his escape from home.
    It had all been most distasteful.
    But this story wasn’t about Alek. The headline read A DIPLOMATIC DISASTER ABOARD THE
DAUNTLESS
!
    Below those words was a photograph of the
Dauntless
, the elephant-shaped walker used by the British ambassador in Istanbul. German undercover agents had taken it on a rampage during the
Leviathan
’s stay there, causing a near-riot for which the British had been