“No. You're the future King Gareth of Britain.” Adele felt his arms around her, strong and full of purpose and rectitude.
“Simon! Stop touching that!” Adele slapped her brother's wrist as he reached to grasp the dead hand that lay on the unrolled oilcoth.
“But technically it's mine,” Simon argued with typical disregard for reality, staring at the grey-fingered thing with boyish wonder. The thirteen-year-old was dressed in his usual Bedouinesque robe with linen trousers and soft desert boots. His face was flushed redder than normal under his close-cropped red hair. The boy rebelled against his sister's grasp and began to inch toward the hand again.
General Anhalt laid a deep metal tray on the table along with a canvas bag that tinkled of glass. They were in Adele's private conference room. He pulled a jar of blood from the satchel and wordlessly began to pour the liquid into the tray.
Simon blurted, “Can I put the dead hand in my blood?”
“May I put the dead hand in my blood,” Adele corrected. “Yes, go ahead.”
“Outstanding!” The boy giggled and gasped at the same time as he lifted the rubbery hand. He took one of the fingers and wiggled it, making a cute playful noise. He thrust the dead limb toward Pet, who sat on the table, ears pricked forward with interest. The cat sniffed the thing and tightened his face in disgust.
“Just do it!” Adele shouted. “What is wrong with you? Show some respect.”
Simon scowled and dropped the hand into the tray, raising red splashes that elicited a groan of annoyance from his sister. The empress ignored the scarlet spots on the boy's robe and her own golden gown, and asked Greyfriar, “How long must the thing soak?”
The swordsman leaned over and looked at the lifeless appendage, now partially covered in blood. “I have no idea. Between the hand and the clothes, we should fool Flay.”
Adele turned to General Anhalt. “How many people know anything about this blood or the hand? Other than the people in this room?”
“None, Your Majesty.” The general cleared his throat uncomfortably. “There is, I fear, no shortage of dead boys in the military hospital. And I drew the blood of Prince Simon myself. Unfortunately, I have some experience with battlefield surgery.”
Simon was studying the glass jar, watching the remnants of red liquid dribble in the bottom. “So this will make the vampires think that hand is mine?”
“Yes,” Adele answered.
“Vampires are stupid,” the boy said, causing Greyfriar to chuckle.
King Msiri approached the table. He wore loose cotton clothing with sandals, and a leopard skin band around his head, a crown of sorts. Msiri glanced at the hand too with a sour shake of his head.
“How you Equatorians manage your affairs is your own business,” he muttered, “but this is bad. I'm not a superstitious man, but the bodies of the dead are sacred. And this was a child.”
Adele replied, “There was no other way, Your Majesty. But I thank you for helping us.”
“Of course,” the Katangan said earnestly. “There's nothing I wouldn't do for you after how you served me.” He pointed at the hand. “And if this abomination is your wish, so be it.”
The empress shook her head. “I find it distasteful too, but necessary. Are you prepared with a cruiser to take Simon to Katanga? With complete secrecy?”
“Yes! I was mistaken before. This fellow is not my son. He is my brother!” Msiri put a rough arm around Simon's shoulder. The boy laughed. “I will pack him in a box so no one knows he is aboard ship. Except for me, of course.”
Simon asked, “What if you forget and I starve to death locked inside a box?”
“I shall write myself a note,” Msiri offered.
The boy seemed satisfied with that glib response.
“Good,” Adele said. “Keep him hidden and quiet, if that's at all possible.”
Simon asked, “Why do I have to stay hidden? Vampires won't know what's happening here.” The boy pointed at Greyfriar. “Oh! I can wear a mask. I can be Whitefriar or Blackfriar! I can go with you and fight vampires in the north.”
Greyfriar began to speak, but Adele interrupted, “You are not going to wear a mask and fight vampires, Simon!”
“Why not? You get to go everywhere. You get to run around. And you're the empress! Why can't I do anything?”
Greyfriar said, “It's very dangerous, Simon.”
“I'm not afraid!”
“No one said you were afraid,” Adele countered. “You clearly aren't afraid of anything, unfortunately. It's just that you aren't prepared. And you already have an important mission—”
“Well, I won't do it, then. I won't pretend to be dead.”