Also by Scott Westerfeld The first book in the trilogy ... - Webgarden

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Ottomans would have every right to impound it.
The officers hadn’t let on where the ship was going next. But wherever they were bound, Deryn doubted
she would be seeing Istanbul or Alek again, not until the war was over.
She watched Newkirk for a moment, envious of his disguise. The whole party was dressed in Arab
robes to keep the Young Turks from spotting them and starting up another protest. If only she could be
doing proper ship’s work instead of diplomacy … or whatever Dr. Barlow was up to.
The lady boffin waited a hundred yards from theLeviathan , on a stretch of empty airfield past the
mooring tower. She was dressed in her finest traveling coat, twirling a parasol and standing beside a small
hay-filled box. One of the last two eggs sat inside it, shining like a huge pearl in the sun. So Dr. Barlow’s
secret cargo would at last be delivered to the sultan.
But why take a spare middy along?
As Deryn drew near, Dr. Barlow turned and said, “You’re a bit late, Mr. Sharp, and looking positively
unkempt.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” Deryn said, adjusting her collar. Her shirt fitted all wrong despite a mad hour of sewing.
Worse, it still smelled of Newkirk—the bum-rag hadn’t bothered to wash it since yesterday. “I had to
borrow this shirt. Mine was still a bit spicy.”
“You possess only one dress uniform?” Dr. Barlow clicked her tongue. “We shall have to remedy that, if
you’re going to continue assisting me.”
Deryn frowned. “Assisting you, ma’am? Frankly, I never fancied myself much of a diplomat.”
“Perhaps not. But this is what comes of making your self useful, Mr. Sharp. You were invaluable during
the battle of theDauntless , while the ambassador and his lackeys were quite hopeless.” Dr. Barlow
sighed. “Soon I shall be afraid to leave the airship without your protection.”
Deryn rolled her eyes. Even when dispensing compliments, the lady boffin always managed a mocking
tone. “I hope you’re not expecting to be attacked again today, ma’am.”
“One never knows. We are not as welcome here as I might have liked.”
“That’s right enough,” Deryn said, still hearing the anger in the protesters’ voices. “But I’ve been
meaning to ask you, ma’am. What’s a behemoth?”
Dr. Barlow looked at her with narrowed eyes. “Wherever did you hear that word, Mr. Sharp?”
“It was just something they were shouting yesterday. The Young Turks, I mean.”
“Hmm, of course. That is the name of theOsman ’s companion creature, and thus part of Lord
Churchill’s unfortunate appropriation.”
Deryn frowned. “But krakens don’t have names. No beastie does, unless it’s a whole ship.”
“‘Behemoth’ is not a proper name, young man, but a species. You see, this creature is not a kraken at
all but something altogether new. And a military secret, so perhaps we should drop the subject.” Dr.
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