The Silent Deal: The Card Game, Book 1 Page 6

  Chapter V

  THE DRUNKEN WARNING

  Viktor gasped. It felt as if his very bone would snap in half from the pressure. He tried to tear the rope or untangle his leg, but the sheer weight on the rope crippled any hope of freeing himself.

  "Light it, light the rope!" Romulus wheezed, flinging a pack of matches at Viktor. "It's Fire Wire!"

  Viktor had no idea what "Fire Wire" was, but he had no mind to ask. Sweat slid down his fingers as he struck a match that fizzled out from the wind. A waft of cigar smoke rose above the tiles. His shaky fingers snapped another match in half. Captain Ulfrik hooked a hand on the roof. Viktor gritted his teeth and struck one more.

  A spark landed on the cloth rope, and instantly fire shot down its entire length, transforming it into a wisp of smoke. Ulfrik had his weight on the rope as it burned past his hands and vanished, sending him falling sideways toward the pavement. At the same time, Viktor felt a fiery snake coil around his ankle and then evaporate into the air, leaving only a singed pant leg behind. Ulfrik slammed into the ground on his back, shaking the building foundations.

  "Captain, are you hurt?" cried one guard.

  He groaned. "Kill them."

  Romulus recovered his strength and slung Viktor's arm over his shoulder. He half-ran, half-staggered across the shingles while Viktor limped alongside. As guards shouted orders and organized in the alleyway, the blood rushed back into Viktor's foot, and the boys began sprinting across rooftops. They jumped and climbed from building to building, rising and falling with the roofline. Minutes passed while they stole across ridges, silhouetted by moonlight.

  Romulus made a sharp turn, dashing toward a large gap in between shops. With a hard kick, he planted off a smoking chimney and sailed through the night, crossing over a narrow lane in midair, where a horse pulled a carriage below. Viktor followed and leapt over the void. With the ease of an acrobat, Romulus landed on the opposite rooftop and somersaulted to absorb the impact. Viktor landed next to him, but his knees buckled as he absorbed the full shock of the landing.

  The guards' voices were far away, and on the wrong side of the street, so the boys rested for a moment. Viktor bent down to stretch his throbbing legs, massaging his singed ankle.

  "I think we're alright," said Romulus. "The dog can't follow our scent up here."

  "Were you seen?"

  "No."

  Viktor sucked in breaths. "What mess have we landed in? What's happening?"

  "I don't know, but I'm sorry I dragged you into this. My card nearly got us killed."

  "We'd already be dead if it wasn't for your inventions," Viktor said. "Blackbirds, huh? And that Fire Wire—genius."

  "Eh, just cloth soaked in strong-water solution. Come on, let's move."

  The boys hung down from the roof's edge and dropped into a backstreet overgrown with weeds. There were no more street lanterns in the area, and the dead-end lane was pitch black, so they had no choice but to go forward. As they crept along, rats scampered past them in the darkness. Muffled noises sounded ahead, growing distinguishable as music, laughter, and chatter. The lane opened into a wide avenue that ran parallel to Prospekt Street.

  "We shouldn't be here," whispered Viktor. "If this is Elli Way, we're next to the Beaten Horse. It's no good."

  "We'll soon be gone." Romulus peeked around the corner of the lane and scanned the surroundings. "You're right. We're next to the bar. We've got to wait till the coast is clear."

  The front door of the Beaten Horse banged open, releasing slurred voices and the deep notes of a Garmon accordion.

  "Come back in, Petya!" a husky voice called.

  "Can't hold your drink?" said another.

  "Oh, I'll be back," answered Petya, staggering out under the threshold.

  "You better not pass out in the cold! I'll be digging my work, your work, and a grave!"

  Everyone laughed.

  "Get out from under that doorway! You're giving this whole place blasted bad luck, including yourself!" bellowed another drinker.

  Petya laughed and slammed the door. Then he turned and wobbled toward the lane, hiccupping loudly. Viktor leaned against one wall of the narrow lane, Romulus against the other. Stumbling footsteps came closer, and the middle-aged man lit a tobacco pipe. He almost walked past them, but moonlight fell on Viktor and he flinched.

  "Bless me, boy! What are you doing lingering around corners and giving people frights?"

  "We're sorry, sir," Viktor said to the red-faced, brown-bearded man.

  "Oh, and there are two of you. Well, you shouldn't be out at this time of night."

  "Neither should you," snapped Romulus from the shadows.

  Viktor scowled. Romulus might get them out of jams, but he got them into just as many.

  "You better think before you speak," the man said. "I knew boys like you who got killed for their boldness."

  "I'm bolder than them."

  "Impossible. Step into the moonlight and face me like a man."

  To Viktor's dismay, Romulus stepped forward and glared at Petya. He must have looked like a phantom with his tattered clothes and ashen face. Only his Saint Benedict medallion shone in the darkness.

  Petya went pale and dropped his tobacco pipe, which clattered across the stones. "I know that necklace and that face! Bless my stars, it can't be," he whispered hoarsely. "I drank too much. But no, I'm not imagining this. Here you are in front of me! Look at you ... younger, renewed ... Maksim!"

  The hair stood up on Viktor's neck. "Who are you talking to?"

  "Maksim ... the Greatest," said Petya, smiling strangely at Romulus.

  "You're mistaken," Romulus said.

  "I knew you would come back ... to help. You're his ghost, aren't you?"

  "No, I'm quite solid."

  Petya cautiously stretched out his hand and pushed Romulus on the shoulder. He shuddered and pulled back, staring at Romulus curiously. "Impossible," he said to himself. "It can't be. It can't! But maybe ... it could have happened ... but not under our noses for so long. He'd have to grow up in secrecy ... if he was born in there and never left ..."

  "Let's go, Romulus. We've heard enough of this madman."

  "Maksim, you clever old boy!" Petya wiped tears of joy from his eyes.

  "Didn't you hear me, old man?" Romulus snarled. "I'm not Maksim, and I don't know a Maksim, and I'm not Maksim's ghost, so who is Maksim?"

  Petya's bloodshot eyes grew wide. "He was your father. And Adelaida was your mother."

  "Liar," Romulus murmured, taking a step back.

  "Am I? If not Maksim and Adelaida, can you name your parents?"

  "I don't believe you."

  Viktor looked back and forth, not sure what to think.

  "Saint Benedict—isn't it? And pure silver?" Petya said, pointing to the necklace. "Yes, I thought so. Odd that an Orthodox Russian like yourself would be wearing a Catholic medal—unless, of course it was a family heirloom? I wonder if you have anything else of your father's ... say, a playing card?"

  Romulus' expression was unreadable, but his hand twitched slightly.

  A drunken smile broke out across Petya's face. "I thought you might. See, his card was never found ... and now I see why—the king of spades lives on. Don't worry, son, I'll never tell a soul."

  Something in Petya's discourse and demeanor seemed to make Romulus trust him. Against Viktor's wary look, Romulus showed the stranger the card.

  "Put it away, you fool! Spies are everywhere. Cards are not welcome here. Nobody has seen it—have they?" Petya paused, horrified by the silence. "Have they?"

  Paralyzed by fear, Viktor and Romulus were rooted to the spot. Shouts came from the end of the street.

  "Is someone after you?"

  "Guards. Captain Ulfrik saw the card," whispered Viktor.

  "What did he say?"

  "Something about a Mummer's Dance."

  Petya covered his mouth, sobering up. "Curse my stars. He's called on the Masqueraiders. They're coming for you!"

&nb
sp; Masqueraiders. Viktor matched the name with the masked men from his dreams. He trembled, recalling their Venetian, animal disguises. They were coming!

  "Who are they? What do they want?" Romulus said.

  "They're servants of the Leopard, and they want your king of spades and they want you—dead."

  "Then I'll kill him first," spat Romulus. "Who is this Leopard?"

  "He can't be killed, and don't attempt to! Nothing is worth the price you'll pay, for he is the ghost that rules Aryk from the shadows."

  "Well, he won't find us," breathed Viktor, desperately trying to reassure himself. "Nobody saw our faces."

  The miner's eyes were watery. "You don't understand. He'll never stop searching for you. In time, his Masqueraiders will find you anywhere you go, your family and friends, too. Think—does anyone else know you have that card? Have you drawn any attention to yourselves?"

  The blood brothers exchanged a sickened look. Evenova and Charlotta knew about the card; the rest of the school knew about Romulus' reputation.

  "Quick—then tell us how to survive him," Romulus begged.

  "There is a document," hissed Petya as the shouts came closer, "called the 'Silent Deal.' It has evidence of the Leopard's gruesome crimes, but he keeps it hidden in his possession, because he needs the information in it. Find that document and present the evidence of his crimes to higher powers—it will take a hand as strong as the tsar's to capture such a foe!"

  Viktor was so overwhelmed he could barely process what was happening. Was this truth or the ramblings of a madman?

  Petya continued to sober up as he peered around the corner down Elli Way. "They're closing in now. I'll hold them off as long as I can. Split up, then reach your home in the serf housing, boy—and Romulus, yours in the forest. Deny any of this ever happened."

  "You know I live the forest?"

  "Go."

  "What does this have to do with cards? I don't understand!" Romulus cried.

  "The Silent Deal will explain everything. Find it! Finish the work of your fathers—for the cards' sake!"

  The boys opened their mouths to argue, but Petya pushed them into the street.

  "Seize those three!" roared one of the Masqueraiders running toward them while wearing a black-beaked mask.

  "Run! Save yourselves!" hissed Petya.

  Viktor and Romulus obeyed. They flew down Elli Way, keeping in darkness, glancing over their shoulders at the stranger who now faced their enemies, squaring up with the dark cloaked figures sprinting at him. Viktor almost thought he heard an old tune fill the air, one about clubs, hearts, diamonds, and spades, yet the discord of footsteps and screams broke the illusion.

  Viktor twisted his head around and saw a jester reach Petya first; the Masqueraider was unprepared for the hard kick in the hip that knocked him clean off his feet. The next attacker wore the mask of Greek tragedy and ran at the miner with a rapier. Petya pulled a dagger from his belt and swung, but the Masqueraider twisted around him and sliced his back with the thin sword. Petya cried out, arching his spine in pain.

  "Don't let the others escape!" ordered the black-beaked mask.

  The tragedy Masqueraider pulled the jester up. Both figures took off after Viktor and Romulus, who glanced back again to see what was happening: A Masqueraider in a waxing-moon mask ran by Petya, who parried the blows of someone in a fox mask before being slammed in the knee with a metal club.

  Petya struggled to stand as the giant black-beaked Masqueraider approached him with a heavy sword. His dagger never had a chance—the broadsword brushed his feeble block out of the way, slicing off a few of his fingers. Petya's roar was cut short as the Masqueraider strode forward and ran his chest through with the steel. The blood brothers watched, horror stricken, as the man who had protected them now collapsed dead at the far end of Elli Way. It was the second man Viktor had seen die, but this time, it left a much deeper cut, because the man had not only died for cards, Petya had died for him.

  The boys redoubled their pace. The night filled with noise as Aryk's riffraff drew toward the chaos unfolding. Viktor and Romulus sprinted into a narrow side street that would take them closer to the edge of town, but Masqueraiders in alligator, tragedy, moon, and jester masks were hot on their trail, and sounds of another group approaching from the far end of the side street stopped the boys cold.

  They were trapped!