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The galleon swept through the fornicating sea monsters As Yves had planned, as he had hoped, as he had expected from his research, the sea monsters trapped themselves in their rapture They never noticed the attack until the ht

The siren song disintegrated into animal cries and screams of pain Hunted animals always shrieked at the shock of their capture Yves doubted that beasts could feel fear, but he suspected they ht feel pain

The galleon crushed through theh the thrashing waves

Desheureux shouted abuse and orders The sailors winched the net’s cables Underwater, powerful creatures thrashed against the side of the galleon Their voices beat the planks like a drum

The net hauled the creatures froleamed from their dark, leathery flanks

“Release the pigeons” Yves kept his voice level

“It’s too far,” whispered the apprentice to the royal pigeon keeper “They’ll die” Birds cooed and fluttered in their wicker cages

“Release theht of birds, the next flight would succeed, or the one after that

“Yes, Father”

A dozen carrier pigeons lofted into the sky Their wings beat the air The soft sound faded to silence Yves glanced over his shoulder One of the pigeons wheeled, cli the sun, signaling Yves’ triumph

1

The procession wound its way along the cobbled street, stretching fifty carriages long The people of Le Havre pressed close on either side, cheering their King and his court, es and the harnesses, ad the flaold, the wide plun on horseback

Marie-Josèphe de la Croix had drea in such a procession, but her dreae of the duke and duchess d’Orléans, a carriage second in ’s She sat across fro’s brother, knoays as Monsieur, and his wife Madahter Mademoiselle sat beside her

On her other side, Monsieur’s friend the Chevalier de Lorraine lounged lazily, handso journey from Versailles to Le Havre Lotte — Mademoiselle, I must always remember to call her, Marie-Josèphe said to herself, now that I’ — leaned out the carriage , nearly as excited as Marie-Josèphe

The Chevalier stretched his long legs diagonally so they crossed in front of Marie-Josèphe’s feet

Despite the dust, and the smells of the waterfront, and the noise of horses and riders and carriages clattering along the cobblestones, Madareat fondness for fresh air, which Marie-Josèphe shared Despite her age — she was over forty! — Mada She hinted that Marie-Josèphe

Monsieur preferred to be protected from the evil humours of the outside air He carried a silk handkerchief and a pomander With the silk he brushed the dust froold lace of his coat; he held the clove-studded orange to his nose, perfu away the odors of the street As the coach neared the waterfront, the s seaweed rose, till Marie-Josèphe wished she too had brought a pomander