The Silent Deal: The Card Game, Book 1

by Levi Stack

  Chapter XXXI

  MEMORIES

  In the morning, Viktor awoke on the floor, drenched in cold sweat. Blizzard was curled beside him, whining softly. Even the wolf knew enough to sense something was wrong.

  Wrong didn't begin to describe it. Romulus was dead! He had fallen, and the Silent Deal had fallen with him. And Viktor's home was destroyed! His family was in hiding! He'd never imagined the possibility of such disastrous results ... had he?

  In his weak state, the memories of Lady Nutrix's predictions broke through his mental barriers. The cards in Romulus' fortune gnawed at his mind.

  A king of spades meant a history of combat. Maksim.

  A three of spades meant a lack of communication in the past. Maksim again.

  The card with no label—number XIII—the skeleton with the scythe—the Death card ...

  Stop! Viktor told himself. She didn't know. Lady Nutrix couldn't foresee Romulus would die.

  "But he did die," a voice in his head whispered back. "And she did foretell it."

  Those fortunes aren't real, he answered.

  "Then why did they come true?"

  Viktor turned his thoughts to his enemy, the Leopard, or rather Molotov, or rather Nocktayl, the boy who had used three different personas to pull the wool over the eyes of Aryk. In an effort to stay sane, he searched for Maksim's Memoirs, which he found hidden under Romulus' bed. He meant to look at the "God loves trinity" note, but as he opened the journal, a few loose pages slipped out. Viktor checked their dates to put them back in proper order, but as he skimmed them, he realized he hadn't seen these passages before. Either they were lost ... or torn out on purpose. And as Viktor read, he began to lean toward the latter.

  3 March 1824

  These days are hard. Adelaida has been spending a great deal of time talking to her mother, Mariya Shepkin, who is her only family left. I worry about them both. Mariya has all the signs of an oncoming disease. Adelaida looks just as bad. She worries about what the future will bring. I try to reassure her as a good husband should, but she fears for her mother's life. I promised that I would help save her in any way I can.

  Mariya Shepkin? Viktor thought. Then who is the Blok Widow?

  15 March 1824

  Mariya, who was once such a bright spirit, is succumbing to sickness. Gone are the days when she worked in bright dresses and brought smiles to everyone she met. Now she is bedridden. Every day is a struggle. Adelaida stays with her most nights. She knows her mother's end is near. The opportunity to spend time with her grows thin. Soon their relationship will draw to an end.

  But Adelaida's mother can't die, Viktor thought. If she dies, then the Blok Widow isn't Romulus' grandmother. He flipped to the third and last passage with shaking hands.

  21 March 1824

  The day of grief had come. Adelaida's mother passed away last night. I gathered Leonid, Feliks, and Vitaly together to tell them of the news. They've since spread the word that Mariya Shepkin's funeral is tomorrow. Since Adelaida and I have no living family, it will be a small gathering of friends.

  Viktor's mouth dropped open. Romulus' last grandparent had died over fifteen years ago, just as Ulfrik had said. Then who was the Blok Widow? And did she really raise Romulus? Or was it all a lie ... and if it were a lie, why did Romulus choose my neighbor?

  "Because," whispered the voice in his head, "the Blok Widow had dementia. Wasn't it convenient for Romulus that the woman he claimed raised him had no memory?"

  Not if it's true, thought Viktor. Then it's terribly INconvenient. No, Romulus couldn't have picked her. He wouldn't have known who she was.

  "Really? Didn't you talk about her the first day of school? And when you taught Romulus to read in the forest? How many days did you complain about her?"

  Viktor's mouth went dry. His pulse started to increase as scenes flashed in his mind's eye: There he was, sitting in front of a map assignment on the first day of school, with Evenova growing irritated at the boy of the forest.

  "Let him be, Evenova," Viktor had said hastily. "People forget things all the time—like my neighbor, the Blok Widow. She doesn't remember a soul and no one remembers her."

  The scene flashed a few weeks forward. Viktor saw himself sitting in the Den after a very dangerous flight from the Brassard alley. He'd given Romulus an ultimatum.

  "I won't go any further groping in the darkness until I'm absolutely sure that we can trust each other—that we know each other's past."

  "You're going to be disappointed," warned Romulus before launching into his speech.

  The scene changed again—this time to him and Romulus having tea with Miss Blok. Viktor asked her if she had ever known Maksim and Adelaida.

  "Adelaida," Miss Blok had said to herself, "yes, she was the daughter of an old woman in this town. An old, long-lost woman who died years ago ..."

  And when Viktor became confused and tried to ask more, Romulus had stopped him.

  "She's talking about herself—she just doesn't realize it," Romulus had whispered. "Drop it, or you'll confuse her."

  Viktor shook himself away from the scenes and back to the present, where his thoughts were more clouded than ever. But if Romulus used Miss Blok as a scapegoat to hide his past, then how had the woman known so much about Maksim and Adelaida?

  "Well, didn't everyone?" whispered Viktor's doubts. "Maksim led the Card rebellion. Everyone knew his story. Naturally Miss Blok would pin the town's chaos on him."

  But she trusted Romulus and me enough to talk about the Secret Deal, Viktor argued.

  "She only talked about it because she forgot she wasn't supposed to. Her dementia was like Yanko's and Zindelo's ignorance or Petya's drunkenness: It allowed her to disclose the secrets that everyone in Aryk knows but is afraid to talk about."

  Viktor rubbed his temples. He could find no way of combating the arguments.

  "And didn't you find it odd," continued the voice, "that Romulus said he'd never heard Miss Blok speak of such things? Probably because he'd never heard her speak at all. Why else would he wait so long to reveal his past—unless he was planning out lies?"

  "Stop," Viktor whispered, clenching his head. "He was your friend."

  "Look at you lying to yourself! He tore out the pages! He hid them from you! He didn't want you to know the truth!"

  "You're crazy!"

  "And you're talking to yourself."

  Viktor trusted no one at the moment, himself included. He had to go back to a place he knew and find solid ground. He shoved Maksim's Memoirs back under the bed, ordered Blizzard to stay behind, and sprinted into the forest.

  Viktor blinked and found himself standing in the ashes of his burned-down house. Grief was doing strange things to his sense of time and motion.

  In the distance, other serfs were rooting through their own belongings. The fire had burnt many of the homes along Row 13, the only positive being the fact that Viktor's family wouldn't stand out to the Leopard. Still, Viktor felt ill as he rooted through charred wood and burnt memories. What he was searching for, even he didn't know. Maybe it was something that might tether him to his old life. Maybe it was something to guide him in the coming era.

  Under a smoldering bed board glinted his father's old pocket watch. Viktor knelt down and curled his hand around the crude metal, pulling its chain out of the wreckage. Slightly melted from the fire, he had to pry the cover open, which popped the watch out of its case. He halted. Pressed against the back of the case was a folded piece of paper.

  Its familiar design made Viktor's neck prickle: Swirling vines wrapped around a flower. Once, twice, three times he unfolded the thick paper to reveal his prize, a ten of spades playing card.

  His eyes went glassy. This was his father's brassard, his badge of rank. Vassi had been a Card! He had been a miner under Maksim, a Spade, and a high-ranking Spade at that. And Viktor never knew. He never stopped to consider the possibility.

  Another scene flashed before his eyes. Just days ago, his father had stood with
him under the night sky, speaking of dreams and problems and questioning his son about what was bothering him.

  And I kept quiet, Viktor thought. That's why we're alike. We each tried to shield the other from the truth, but the lies backfired worse than either of us could foresee.

  "But there was one who foresaw it," hissed the voice that would not leave him be.

  Viktor winced as he pictured Lady Nutrix flipping the ten of hearts reversed. "It foretells loss of family, home, or both," the young woman had said.

  "We've no faith in cards, Gypsy!"

  "All your faith is in cards! You think discovering the secret of the cards will help you, but it will only tear your life apart and drive you mad!"

  The guilt and confusion was building to a breaking point. Viktor didn't think he could bear it much longer.

  Time again sped up. It was late afternoon as Viktor knelt on the ice of Aryk's river near Town Square. He wondered how far Romulus' body had floated downstream to the north, though in a way, he knew it didn't matter because his spirit was unreachable, farther than far, more distant than any distance.

  What was worse was that every time Viktor looked up or over his shoulder, he half-expected Romulus to appear, like he had been there the whole time. But Romulus wasn't there, and Viktor still missed him. He was gone, but it didn't feel like it. Viktor could feel him, but he was gone.

  Suddenly Viktor thought of Grandpap sitting at the table in the evenings rubbing his shoulder with the missing arm. Even though he'd lost his arm in the mines, his nerve endings could still feel the missing appendage, a source of constant pain.

  "A phantom limb," Viktor whispered, finally understanding the way he felt. Indeed, that's what it was like: Having a phantom limb. Though Romulus was gone, Viktor could still feel the pain of him not being there, and he knew that like Grandpap's arm, the pain would never truly disappear; in between those painful flares, it would always be a dull throb in his heart.

  As Viktor continued thinking, he realized he was not the only one with a phantom limb. Romulus had never known his parents. Their absence had always been a constant, empty pain. Evenova, too, had lost her father when she was young. Charlotta still had her father and mother, but sorrow had lessened them to mere shadows of their former selves. That was a phantom limb half-fledged ...

  Viktor's thoughts turned to his enemies. What had Ulfrik lost to make him so jaded and angry? Viktor decided it was faith. Even at the brink of death, Ulfrik had refused to trust his fellow man. That distrust had killed him ... and Romulus.

  Viktor pictured the Leopard and his gold teeth and icy eyes and blond-gray slicked hair. He saw his taut muscles and his awful, awful marks. What could turn a man into such a monster? What was his phantom limb? After a long moment, Viktor decided it was his old self—Nocktayl. The Leopard had lost the good in him. He'd carved away every bit of childhood innocence until he cared about nothing but his dark task.

  Viktor's shoulders slumped, and his fingers drifted to the pocket watch that hung from the blackened chain around his neck. Slowly he began to realize that a rebellion hadn't destroyed Romulus—secrets had. It was the secrets that had sent Romulus and him on an ill-fated search. It was secrets that had made them pick a fight with the man who had terrorized Aryk. If it had all just been out in the open ...

  "Romulus would have lived," he whispered.

  Another epiphany came to Viktor, this one greater than any before: The truth was too powerful to be kept hidden; it wanted to be freed, and if it could be freed, then the lies and fear that had festered in its absence might be choked out by the returning light.

  Suddenly Viktor's path was illuminated. He knew exactly what he had to do.

  The run to Kasta Way seemed but a second. Ducking into the Crossbones Clan's stable and taking a horse seemed even quicker. Forest flashed past. Tens of miles of dirt road flew by under hoof. The night wore away until Viktor came to a second pile of ash and rubble: R.E. Kamdrac's house. There he worked all night, filling the air with clicks and clanks until dawn, when his project was completed. With a new package tucked under his arm, Viktor took his horse and began the journey home. He traveled slower this time, often walking next to his horse under the white sunrise.

  By dusk, Viktor was back in Aryk. He traveled on foot into Prospekt Street, and there he began his mission, staying in the shadows as he left his mark on each building he passed. For the better part of an hour Viktor moved through the unusually empty avenue, until the package under his arm was empty and his nerves were spiked. He wondered how long it would take until word began to spread.

  At the end of Prospekt Street, he saw Town Hall. Oddly enough, there were lights inside the building—laughter, too. How anyone could be happy today he had no idea, but it looked like a great number of citizens were gathering together. He walked closer.

  "Viktor!"

  He flinched. "Oh, Uri, it's just you."

  The mousy boy hurried over. "Viktor, where have you been? Evenova and Charlotta swore you were alright, but your family's been worried. Haven't you heard what happened?"

  "Yeah, my house was one of the many that burned."

  Uri shook his round face. "No, not the fires—Staryi Castle was broken into! Molotov's angry! There's talk about him shutting down our school, especially after Miss Dimovna's death and what not."

  Viktor was paralyzed. He'd forgotten all about how they had left their insane Masqueraider teacher knocked out in the alley. And now she was dead? How?

  "Viktor, Miss Shinsky's dead, too. They both died in the chaos of the fires. Looters killed them—maybe Masqueraiders." Uri paused and watched Viktor's face with concern. "Are you alright? You should come inside. Mikhail and Ollyver and Aleksandr will all want to see you."

  Viktor was about to decline, when two girls exiting Town Hall called his name. Charlotta's fair skin looked alarmingly pale against her golden hair. Evenova's eyes had dark circles. Uri must have sensed tension between them, because he muttered to Viktor that they could catch up later.

  Evenova waited for Uri to scuttle back into the building before she spoke: "Where have you been?"

  "I ... I had to do something."

  "Viktor, you left us without a word," Charlotta said. "Why?"

  He hated to hear her say his name like that. "You'll see soon enough," he said, "but we've got a bigger problem. Dimovna's dead."

  "Don't you think we know that?" Evenova cried, grabbing his shirt. "The whole town's talking about it. What if Charlotta killed her with that baton blow to the head? Or what if she gave up our identities to the Leopard and he killed her?"

  Viktor didn't know what to say. His grief was making him act rashly. Even the plan he'd already set in motion was now beginning to seem more foolish and reckless by the second. If the girls were already losing control, how would they react after the town erupted to the news?

  A soft chuckle sounded behind them. "Look at this mess. I step out for a minute and everyone falls to pieces?"

  Viktor didn't believe his ears. He turned around slowly. His eyes, too, must have been lying. He had seen deranged and fantastic sights in the castle, but this topped them all. It was impossible. It simply couldn't be.

  The three serfs stared incredulously at their old friend. He wore a gray coat that hid a bandaged shoulder, black trousers, and his usual leather boots, though he looked unusually clean cut. He'd even combed his hair into a part.

  As always, Evenova spoke first: "Romulus?"

  "Yes?"

  "But you're ... d-dead." It was all Viktor could think to say.

  Romulus smiled wide. "It's like your grandpap says: The first pancake is always a blob. I guess we should've taken that second hatch, huh?"

  Evenova elbowed Viktor. "You said he was dead!"

  "H-He was," murmured Viktor, his mouth agape. "I saw cracked ice and Ulfrik lying on his back ... and there was a body smaller and thinner under him. I ... saw your blond hair ... and your hands."

  Romulus nodded. "Ulfrik crushed som
eone, but it wasn't me. There's your answer to how Dimovna died."

  "You mean I didn't kill her?" whispered Charlotta.

  "No, Ulfrik crushed her," Romulus repeated. "When she awoke she must've run to the castle to report to the Leopard. But I think that baton blow left her with a serious concussion, because when she spotted Ulfrik and me dangling off the roof, she ran toward us—well actually directly under us."

  Viktor frowned. "I never saw her."

  "In her usual black she would've been a shadow to you," said Romulus. "And her shrieking would've been drowned out by ... well, Evenova's."

  Evenova turned beet-red.

  "But what about the fall? How could you survive that?" Viktor said.

  "Remember Earth's Edge?" said Romulus.

  Viktor nodded. "You threw a rock ... to break the water tension ..."

  "Yes, but this time I had something better." Romulus tossed Viktor a sphere wrapped in orange twine fitted with a small wick. "Didn't you see or hear the bomb go off?"

  "No—because Viktor pulled us back when the fire shot up the rope," gasped Charlotta.

  Evenova flushed again. "And that's when I screamed."

  Viktor stared at the Orange Split, his mouth still ajar. "B-But I didn't see a hole in the ice."

  Romulus shrugged. "Eh, it was a tight squeeze—too tight for Ulfrik. I nearly drowned trying to climb back out of it, seeing as how two bodies were lying over it. My arm was painful, too, though Ulfrik's bullet didn't hit anything too important."

  "But what—"

  Romulus chuckled awkwardly. "Come on, Viktor. Can't you stop looking for ways to kill me and accept that I'm alive?"

  It took hearing the words out loud for the full realization of the fact to hit Viktor. With tears brimming in his eyes and his heart leaping, he stepped forward and clapped his blood brother with such a giant hug. The impact on Romulus' wounded shoulder made him cringe, but Evenova wiped her joyful watery eyes, and Charlotta looked on blissfully. But suddenly Viktor pulled away.

  "Wait ... Romulus, you're alive! That means what I've done is bad—really bad!"

  Charlotta cast Viktor a strange look. "Is this about where you disappeared to?"

  "Yeah, I took Arseni's horse—I went to Birstov. Kamdrac's house was burned, but his iron printing press was intact and I used it. I printed hundreds of fliers and pinned them all around Aryk. I did it in your memory, Romulus! I did it because I couldn't stand to hide the truth!"

  "The truth?" Romulus scowled. "What exactly did you print on those fliers?"

  "Everything," Viktor said. "I wrote about the Leopard and Nocktayl and Molotov being the same man. I wrote about the Card rebellion and the cover-up and all the Leopard's killings. I thought everyone in Aryk had a right to know what happened before they were born. I said we broke into Staryi, and it took your death to bring the secrets to light. I couldn't let you die in vain. I had to break the Silent Deal!

  The girls looked at Viktor like he'd actually gone insane.

  Romulus grabbed his shoulder with a very solid hand. "Viktor, look at me. Did you use our names? Do they know who we are?"

  "No. I was anonymous ... and I called you Maksim's son."

  Romulus paused. He exhaled and let go. "Good ... Alright ... This actually isn't so bad. The knowledge of our identities died with Ulfrik and Dimovna ... People will think that I, Maksim's son, am dead ... And serfs like us will know what really happened to their parents, as they should—"

  "This is too bad!" Charlotta interrupted. "The Leopard's going to be furious."

  "Yeah, but he won't go on any killing spree," said Romulus. "Now more than ever, he's afraid of another rebellion. Don't get me wrong—what you've done is colossal, Viktor. Those fliers will start a war, but it won't be physical warfare—it'll be mental. The Leopard will use whatever tactics he can to keep our serf population under control."

  For long minutes, the four friends were silent, reflecting on the struggle to come. Viktor didn't know whether or not his decision had been the right one; he only knew it would inevitably shift the course of their lives.

  Evenova bit her lip in thought and slipped her hand in Romulus'. "Well, considering this might be the last celebration for a long while, I have a sudden craving for some kulich and a dance. Holy Week's ended, you know."

  "Oh ... I forgot," Viktor murmured, catching Charlotta's gaze.

  In silent agreement, they both smiled slightly and walked with the others toward the giant double-doors of Town Hall. Charlotta halted suddenly.

  "Wait, Romulus, I've just remembered something."

  He stopped Evenova at the door and glanced back. "Yeah?"

  "You had the Silent Deal when you fell," she whispered excitedly. "Don't you still have it? With that evidence, we can end this fight before it starts."

  Romulus cowered. He had never looked so dejected as he glanced from Viktor to Charlotta to Evenova, whose watery gaze he held. "I lost it. I lost it in the water. I know I hung from that rope for ages, and I should've protected it, but I didn't. I'm sorry. I know I've ruined—"

  Evenova threw herself at him in mid sentence, tears and all. Romulus was taken by such surprise that his back slammed against the double-doors. The next moment they were a mess of brown curls and tangled arms. Feeling incredibly awkward, Viktor flushed and looked to Charlotta, who stood with her arms crossed and wearing an amused smile.

  When they finally broke apart, Evenova left Romulus pressed against the door like he'd been glued to it. She wiped her eyes and looked up at her friends, whose presence she had all but forgotten.

  "What's the matter?" Evenova asked.

  Viktor opened his mouth, but Charlotta shot him a "Not one word" look.

  Evenova glanced back at Romulus and smoothed his hair into place. "You know, that ice bath worked wonders. Less rugged, more handsome—I like the current you."

  Current. That single word sparked something in Viktor's memory. His eyes locked on Romulus as that old, familiar feeling of doubt crept over his senses. As clear as daylight, he saw it: A gaping flaw in Romulus' tale.

  "You girls go ahead," he said seriously. "I've got to talk with Romulus alone for a minute."

  "Don't you want to go find your family?" Charlotta asked.

  Viktor nodded. "Yeah, but I have to talk to Romulus first."

  Evenova rolled her eyes. Charlotta laughed and pulled her friend into Town Hall, swinging the door shut.

  "They may have bought your story, but you haven't fooled me. I know you're lying," said Viktor softly.

  Romulus' look darkened.

  "I fell from Earth's Edge with you," Viktor said. "I felt that ice water, and I felt the current, and I know that we barely escaped, and that was only because the ice was already broken up from the waterfall. You may have blasted through the ice of Aryk's river, but I know, I know the current is even stronger near the castle. By the time you resurfaced from the tower fall, you would've been tens of meters downriver, where the ice was thick and untouched by your bomb."

  "So what? I lied to make the story easier. I climbed out on a bank where the ice was thin," Romulus said.

  "No you didn't. The ice on the riverbank is as thick as it is everywhere else—too thick to break. Besides, the river's current is too fast, and you'd just fallen from a great height. The water alone would send you into shock ... let alone your blood loss ... not to mention that you wouldn't be able to breathe under the ice. You wouldn't have lived long enough to go into hypo-thermia. So tell me, Romulus, how did you really survive that fall? And why has is taken you two days to show up?"

  "I was afraid this would happen," Romulus said quietly. "You always were cleverer than you gave yourself credit for."

  Viktor shifted, his heart beating faster.

  "Look, the stuff about Dimovna and the Orange Split is all true, and word will spread to confirm it. But the rest ... you wouldn't believe if I told you."

  "Try me."

  Romulus glanced back and forth. He bared his teeth and leaned
forward, his face more solemn than Viktor had ever seen it. "Before I lost consciousness under the ice ... I remember seeing ... a face. Someone came to me in the water."

  Viktor inched away uncomfortably. "What are you talking about?"

  Romulus was lost in memory. "I saw her ... She was like a woman, except not, more angelic and beautiful ... I think she rescued me." He looked up. "Viktor, I think it was my mother. I think it was Adelaida."

  "Adelaida? Are you sick?" murmured Viktor. "Your mother—she's dead. Didn't you hear Ulfrik?"

  "Exactly. She was thrown into Aryk's river, right?" said Romulus, a crazed light glinting in his eyes. "And legend says that if a women drowns or dies near water in an untimely death, she would become a Rusalka ... one of the spirits of the water."

  "Romulus, Rusalki—aren't—real."

  "Half of the serfs in Aryk would disagree. In the castle, we saw the Leshy, right? So why can't Rusalki be real, too? Why not all legends?"

  "No, no ... they're just superstition—myths! Now tell me what truly happened to you!"

  "Don't you think I know how insane this sounds?" hissed Romulus. "I was gone for two days because I woke up deeper in the forest than I would care to go again. I have no idea how I got there, and the last thing I remember was this woman. Don't you think I've been going crazy—feeling half mad?"

  "Don't talk to me about madness!" Viktor said. "I'm seeing ghosts. You're alive, then dead, then alive again—back with impossible stories that I ... can't believe."

  The two youths evaluated each other for long moments until Romulus finally stuck out his hand. "If you must, then forget the river—forget my story. But until the day comes when all of this makes sense, don't forget that we're blood brothers. We're going to see the Leopard through—together."

  Viktor hesitated. If his blood brother had lied about being raised by Miss Blok, then what else might he have lied about ... his escape from the river ... his encounter with his mother?

  Yet as heavy as Viktor's doubts were, stronger still was the good he saw in Romulus. Here was the fearless boy who had risked life and limb for friendship, fighting off wild men and animals alike. And if Viktor had to live with doubt in order to preserve so strong a bond as theirs, he would. So he did. He shook Romulus' hand.

  Evenova appeared with Charlotta in the entranceway, hands on her hips. "Will you two come inside already?"

  Romulus used what must have been his new favorite line, one he had said months earlier while climbing the very tree under which his parents had fallen in love. "Just a minute, dear, they'll be plenty of time left for necking."

  He said it loud enough that the heads of several people passing swiveled in their direction. Serf women glared at Evenova, who yet again turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. She suddenly became much more interested in what was going on inside of Town Hall.

  Viktor couldn't help but let a smile play upon his features. With steps that were lightening and heart that was thumping, he headed into the entryway with Romulus at his side and Charlotta before him. Perhaps the Crossbones Clan might even make an appearance.

  Either way, for one night, Viktor was content to enjoy his company and savor the smell of roasted lamb and pheasant and the sweet dressings on wild greens. Because after all, Romulus was right: War was coming to Aryk. The Silent Deal was broken. And for friends, kin, and that elusive songbird, freedom, Viktor would fight.

  EPILOGUE

  ANCIENT MEDIUM

  The Leopard stood in a long, black fur coat in an empty black ballroom, his thin lips pressed together so tight that they were white. Rage coursed through him, starting from his hand that clenched around a flier and spreading inward, inward toward the deepest parts of his being. He'd lost a valuable secret—one he'd worked his entire life to build. He'd lost names, too, for his records of the Cards ended with the Silent Deal. And above all, he'd lost time, that invaluable resource. His experiments had been damaged. His timetable was hindered. It was unacceptable—all of it—and those losses would have to be repaid with an ancient medium.

  The Leopard's sunken eyes watched as Lieutenant Vyrhus strode briskly through the ballroom's entrance. The long, oily hair of his second-in-command fell on a black cape and was almost as red as the thin scar that ran across the man's pale neck. The four guards flanking him drew up a meter behind where the Lieutenant stopped. The Leopard knew the members of the Thieves' World were fearful of coming too close to him, as they should be. That fear was good. It was necessary.

  "Master," began Vyrhus, speaking in a low voice, "these are the men you requested. These two were there in the chase. The others witnessed Ulfrik's fall from afar."

  The Leopard looked to the first two men, who flinched under his glare. "Describe the intruders."

  "They were but youths—master," blurted out a tall guard. "Two boys, two girls."

  "Their faces?"

  "They were masked, my lord."

  The second, heavy-set guard stepped forward. "P-Please, master, I saw one boy had fair hair, the other, dark."

  "Which boy fell?" the Leopard asked the other guards, the veins in his neck bulging.

  "The b-blond boy, master. He threw a b-bomb at the ice. Dimovna was blasted into the way of Ulfrik's fall. She was crushed, but the boy fell through the ice."

  "What of the Silent Deal?"

  "We b-believe it was with that boy, m-master. He seemed to be their ... leader."

  "Maksimov," the Leopard murmured to himself as his fist squeezed the life out of the flier in his hand. "Is there any way the boy could have survived?"

  The four guards shook their heads.

  "Have you told a soul what you witnessed?"

  Again, they shook no.

  The Leopard paused for a time and thought deeper than any other man would on the problem. Maksim having a son was troubling. It brought up new questions, new doubts. Some force was working against him, rebelliousness afoot.

  "Vyrhus," the Leopard murmured, "you shall take charge of the school. Tell Pluma I want the students literate but subdued. They must ready for the trials of the apprenticeship. And widen the selection pool to dilute Card affiliation. I care not if they're street urchins or lowlifes. Fetch me Gypsies, even. They, at least, will have no prior allegiance."

  The lieutenant bowed and then turned to leave. The guards made to follow him, but the Leopard pointed a long finger at the ground, commanding them to stay as if they were no more than dogs. The four men obeyed, but in their flickering eyes and short breaths, their uneasiness was transparent.

  "Oh, Vyrhus, lock the doors on your way out," said the Leopard softly.

  The oak doors of the ballroom swung shut with a loud boom. Then sounded the metallic ring as the marked man drew a dagger from its iron scabbard. The card game had started with a silent deal, but the next trick was his to take.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  I'm thankful to God for all of the great people who have helped make this book a reality, my family most of all. Dad, Mom, and Grandma, your support was invaluable, and Mari, Olivia, and Rubin, thanks for withstanding a never-ending bombardment of ideas.

  Friends, you were also instrumental in this process. Andrew Rogers, you literally saved the lives of some of my characters (though I won't say who), and Erik Bohman and Brett Johnson, you both helped this novel find an older, wiser voice. W.A. Fulkerson, author of the Starfall Trilogy, your continual advice was vital. It was great to have a friend to relate to throughout this journey. A special thanks also goes out to my watchful editor, John David Kudrick, as well as my illustrator, Owen William Weber, whose incredible artwork brought the blood brothers to life.

  Still, most of all I want to thank you, dear reader, for following Viktor and Romulus through dark forests, strange Gypsy camps, and ancient towers. Your support is what makes this journey possible, and I would love to connect with you, answer your questions, or read your review of this novel. And be on the lookout! The Card Game has only begun—The Magic Trick comes next!

  �
�Levi Stack

  Email me: levistackauthor@gmail.com

  Follow me on Twitter: @levi_stack

  Please leave a book review at your favorite retailer!

  And to learn more, visit: www.thecardgameseries.com