“Father, it was the perfect thing to do,” said Dertu. “I didn’t tell them we were at sea. I didn’t tell them where we were going. They will trace the call to the landline on this island but only hours from now when it is no longer daylight here, and when we are far away.”

The heavy cruiser picked up speed pushing against the huge waves. Sky and sea were steel gray.

“They’ll come after us!” said Derek. “There are blood drinkers awake now somewhere in the world. Dertu, these creatures can fly.”

“Well, they can’t fly here now, can they?” said Dertu. “It will be daylight for eight more hours. And all those blood drinkers now know that the despised Rhoshamandes has kept secrets from the Prince and the Court. The Court will know in a matter of hours what Rhoshamandes has done.”

This was true.

“But where are we going?” asked Derek. “Where can we hide?”

“Not a worry,” said the boy. “We’ll be with Kapetria sooner than you think. Go down, get something to eat for yourself. Light the fireplace in the salon. You’re starved and unable to think.”

In a daze Derek stumbled down the steps and moved through the salon to the galley. Out of the refrigerator he took a bottle of orange juice and, cringing at the cold against his gloved hand, he drank half of it. Heaven. Nectar of the gods. So delicious. There were other bottles of vitamin water, vegetable juice, and milk and more orange juice, and there were all those paper plates of food covered in plastic, the chicken, roast beef, ham.

He stood there shivering. Then he forced himself back up the steps into the cockpit and gave the bottle of orange juice to Dertu.

“If Kapetria is listening to that broadcast,” said Dertu, “and they think that she is, we will connect with her this very night, in Derry in Northern Ireland. That is my plan.”

“But how can that be?” asked Derek.

Dertu swallowed the remaining orange juice down. “I confess, Father,” said the boy, “I consumed a good deal of food earlier, in the castle’s kitchens. I was ravenous. I devoured food like a wild animal. You are the one who must eat now. I should have brought food to you. I am not a good son.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Derek whispered. “You were a newborn being. You must have been famished. I’m a dreadful father. And how can we connect with Kapetria tonight?”

“I left a further message on the phone line, Father. And pray that no one removes it or shuts off the line. I do not think that they will.”

“Another message saying what?”

Dertu was obviously excited by what he’d done. He piloted the boat without looking at his father, but he couldn’t keep from smiling.