“I know the legend, Herr Roydon!” Rudolf warned.
“Apologies, Your Majesty,” Matthew said with a graceful, albeit shallow, bow. “Diana will look splendid, arriving in her chariot so that she can gaze wistfully upon the man she loves.”
Rudolf was imperial purple by this point. We were waved out of the royal presence and left the palace to make the brief, downhill trip to the Three Ravens.
“I have only one request,” Matthew said as we entered our front door. “I may be a vampire, but April is a cold month in Prague. In deference to the temperature, the costumes you design for Diana and Endymion should be more substantial than a lunar crescent for your hair and a dishcloth to drape around my hips.”
“I’ve only just cast you in this role and you’re already making artistic demands!” I flung up one hand in mock indignation. “Actors!”
“That’s what you deserve for working with amateurs,” Matthew said with a smile. “I know just how the masque should begin: ‘And lo! from opening clouds, I saw emerge The loveliest moon, that ever silver’ d o’er A shell for Neptune’s goblet.’”
“You cannot use Keats!” I laughed. “He’s a Romantic poet—it’s three hundred years too soon.”
“‘She did soar So passionately bright, my dazzled soul Commingling with her argent spheres did roll Through clear and cloudy, even when she went At last into a dark and vapoury tent,’” he exclaimed dramatically, pulling me into his arms.
“And I suppose you’ll want me to find you a tent,” Gallowglass said, thundering down the stairs.
“And some sheep. Or maybe an astrolabe. Endymion can be either a shepherd or an astronomer,” Matthew said, weighing his options.
“Rudolf’s gamekeeper will never part with one of his strange sheep, so you’re going to have to be an astronomer.”
“Matthew can use my compendium.” I looked around. It was supposed to be on the mantelpiece, out of Jack’s reach. “Where has it gone?”
“Annie and Jack are showing it to Mop. They think it’s enchanted.”
Until then I hadn’t noticed the threads running straight up the stairs from the fireplace—silver, gold, and gray. In my rush to reach the children and find out what was going on with the compendium, I stepped on the hem of my skirt. By the time I reached Annie and Jack, I’d managed to give the bottom a new, scalloped edge.
Annie and Jack had the little brass-and-silver compendium opened up like a book, its inner wings folded out to their full extent. Rudolf’s desire had been to give me something to track the movements of the heavens, and Habermel had outdone himself. The compendium contained a sundial, a compass, a device to compute the length of the hours at different seasons of the year, an intricate lunar volvelle— whose gears could be set to tell the date, time, ruling sign of the zodiac, and phase of the moon—and a latitude chart that included （at my request） the cities of Roanoke, London, Lyon, Prague, and Jerusalem. One of the wings had a spine into which I could fit one of the hottest new technologies: the erasable tablet, which was made of specially treated paper that one could write on and then carefully wipe off to make fresh notes.
“Look, Jack, it’s doing it again,” Annie said, peering down at the instrument. Mop （no one in the house called him Lobero anymore, except for Jack） started barking, wagging his tail with excitement as the lunar volvelle began to spin of its own accord.
“I bet you a penny that the full moon will be in the window when the spinning stops,” Jack said, spitting in his hand and holding it out to Annie.
“No betting,” I said automatically, crouching down next to Jack.
“When did this start, Jack?” Matthew asked, fending off Mop.
Jack shrugged.
“It’s been happening since Herr Habermel sent it,” Annie confessed.
“Does it spin like this all day or only at certain times?” I asked.
“Only once or twice. And the compass just spins once.” Annie looked miserable. “I should have told you. I knew it was magical from the way it feels.”
“It’s all right.” I smiled at her. “No harm done.” With that I put my finger in the center of the volvelle and commanded the thing to stop. It did. As soon as the revolutions ceased, the silver and gold threads around the compendium slowly dissolved, leaving only the gray thread behind. It was quickly lost among the many colorful strands that filled our house.