Once Sofia had finished stitching his cut and applied a pleasantly aromatic poultice, they had enjoyed a sweet tisane together and he had asked her about Anastasia Vilkova.
'She's a noblewoman,' had been Sofia's curt response. 'How do you know her?'
'I don't really,' Kaspar had explained. 'I met her at the Winter Palace last week and she bade me call on her.'
'I see,' said Sofia archly. 'Well, be careful. I hear the swordsman, Sasha Kajetan, is fond of her.'
'Aye, I noticed that.'
'I don't know too much about her, well, not any more than anyone else, really. I know she's originally from Praag and that her husband was killed six or seven years ago, supposedly in a random attack by street thugs, and she took over his business interests.'
'Why do you say "supposedly"?' said Kaspar.
'Well, the rumour was that her husband was involved in a few, shall we say, risque business enterprises that were competing with those of the criminal underclasses.'
'Go on,' said Kaspar.
'Well, they say that one of the gang leaders finally got tired of the competition and had his men follow and murder him as he made his way home from a house of ill repute.'
'The bastard.'
'Who?' chuckled Sofia. 'The husband for visiting a whorehouse or the gang leader for having him killed?'
'You know what I meant. Don't try and be clever, it doesn't suit you.'
Sofia stuck out her tongue and continued. 'Like I said, Madam Vilkova took over her husband's businesses and cut out the parts that put her in competition with these men. She's quite a wealthy woman now, and they say she donates a lot of money to various hospices and poorhouses around the city.'
'Quite the philanthropist.'
'Yes, one of our nobles actually worthy of the name.' agreed Sofia. 'So why does she want you to call on her?'
'She didn't really have time to say.'
'Perhaps she is infatuated with you.' laughed Sofia.
'Perhaps she is. Is that so hard to believe?' asked Kaspar, rather more brusquely than he had intended.
'Not at all, Kaspar, you're quite a catch.'
'Now you are mocking me.' said the ambassador, rising from the bench.
'A little.' agreed Sofia with a smile.
Kaspar had left Sofia and retired to his chambers to bathe and change before leaving the embassy to travel to Anastasia's home. He had wanted to travel alone, but Kurt Bremen was unwilling to allow the ambassador to ride unaccompanied after the bloodshed at the gates following the Chekist's attack on the grieving mob.
Thinking of the boyarin's murder, Kaspar was still unsure what to make of the circumstances surrounding his death. A practical mindset had taught him not to believe in coincidence and he could not shake the nagging suspicion that the killing would yet prove to have some deeper connection to him. Quite what, he did not know, but Kaspar was not the kind of man to let such things lie unresolved. Pavel was already attempting to find out what, if any, connections Boyarin Kovovich had with any disreputable types and whether that trail led back, as Kaspar believed it would, to Chekatilo.
He turned his horse into a cobbled thoroughfare with a sign fixed to a black stone building that informed him it was known as Magnustrasse, and was momentarily taken aback seeing a street with an Empire name.
'Perhaps they don't hate us after all, eh?' he said.
'No, ambassador,' said Valdhaas, still feeling guilty after cutting his master.
The streets here were less crowded than those nearer the centre of the city and Kaspar could practically feel the wealth around him. Clean plastered walls topped with broken glass embedded in mortar surrounded the homes of the wealthy elite of Kislev, each one high enough to keep out all but the most determined intruders.
He followed the street until he reached a stand of evergreen poplars. According to the scribbled directions on the note, these were directly opposite Anastasia's home.
Her home was behind a high wall of dressed ashlar and an open gateway led within. Beyond the walls, Kaspar could see a tastefully constructed building at the end of a paved avenue with a lush, well-tended garden of herbs, shrubs and vividly coloured flowers before it.
Kaspar saw Anastasia kneeling before a small herb garden, tilling freshly turned dark earth with a small trowel, and was struck by a heart-rending sense of deja vu. He forced a smile as she saw him and waved as she came towards him.
'I'm so glad you came,' she said.
III
KASPAR SOON REALISED that Sofia had been correct in telling him that Anastasia was a very wealthy woman. Green liveried servants had taken their horses as they rode through the gate and led them to a long stable block set against the interior of the wall, while curtseying maids brought the riders some refreshments.
He and his knights had been handed cool glasses of apple juice with crushed ice, telling Kaspar that Anastasia was wealthy enough to have a chilled room below her home where the air was kept frozen by the enchantments of Kislev's ice wizards.
His knights remained discreetly by the entrance to the town-house while he and Anastasia repaired to an oak-panelled receiving room with a high, alabaster ceiling and a lush carpet patterned with coiling dragons spread over a gleaming hardwood floor.
The interior of the house spoke of great wealth, though never ostentatiously and always tastefully. Every room was elegantly appointed and none overwhelmed a guest with their expense, unlike the castles of many an Empire noble that did all they could to proclaim their owners wealth.
He and Anastasia had sat upon a sumptuous divan and chatted like old friends of inconsequential things until the matter of Boyarin Kovovich's death inevitably arose.
'I heard about that frightful business with that fool, Pashenko.' said Anastasia. 'Simply terrible that a man like you should be accused of something so horrible.'
'Yes, it was ridiculous.' agreed Kaspar.
'What made Pashenko think you had anything to do with his death?'
Kaspar shrugged. 'People at the palace saw the boyarin and myself exchange words and he leapt to the wrong conclusion.'
'Pah! Pashenko is nekulturny and if he were to arrest every man who'd had words with Kovovich, then half of Kislev should be in the Chekist gaol.'
'He wasn't well liked then?' asked Kaspar.
'Not particularly.' said Anastasia. 'He was a boorish man and his wife deserves to be on the stage with the act she put on in front of your embassy. They say he beat her mercilessly, so why she should mourn his passing is beyond me.'
Kaspar shook his head, feeling less sorry for Alexei Kovovich the more he learned about him. The man had been a drunk and, by all accounts, Madam Kovovich would be better off without him. He finished his drink and set it down on a hand-carved walnut table beside the divan.
'But enough of such matters, Kaspar.' said Anastasia brightly. 'Times are grim enough without us adding to them. Tell me of yourself, I am intrigued as to how a man such as you comes to be in Kislev at a time like this.'
'I was sent here by my Emperor.' said Kaspar.
'Oh, come now, there must be more to it than that. Did you upset someone in power to merit such an... inauspicious posting?'
'Inauspicious? Why do you say that?'
'Because a posting here can surely bring you neither great material reward nor prestige, whereas a posting at the heart of diplomatic activity, say in Marienburg or Bordeleaux, might be a useful stepping-stone for a ministerial career. Or Tilea? I'm told that it at least has the benefit of a pleasant climate. But Kislev must surely hold little attraction? So tell me, truthfully mind, why did you come to Kislev?'
'I told you. The Emperor asked me to take the post and I accepted.'
'As simple as that?'
Kaspar nodded. 'I served in the Emperor's armies for nearly four decades, taking the Emperor Luitpold's schilling when I was sixteen years old. I joined a pike regiment and spent the next six years fighting in Averland against one orc warlord after another. We marched and fought t
hroughout the Empire, earning quite a name for ourselves I might add, defeating the beasts that hunt in the dark forests, the tribes of northmen who raid your country and the Ostermark, and any foe that came with murder in their hearts. I rose to command my regiment and fought at the side of the Emperor Karl-Franz himself at the Battle of Norduin. Over the years I earned yet more command until I led entire armies for my Emperor.'
'Oh, this is very heroic.' gushed Anastasia.
Kaspar smiled. 'Perhaps, but my nation is in peril and it needs people who understand war to stand against its enemies if it is to survive. Diplomacy and negotiating can achieve only so much, and there comes a time when a man must be willing to fight for what is right. Kislev may not be the most glamorous posting, but if I can make a difference by coming here and helping our nations' armies resist the coming invasion, then this is where I need to be.'
Anastasia smiled. 'Then you are a true patriot and altruist. Men like you are rare.'
'Not as rare as you think.' smiled Kaspar.
Anastasia laughed and asked, 'Why then did you leave the Emperor's service?'
The smile fell from Kaspar's face. 'My wife, Madeline, had a weak heart and the worry of my absences placed great strain upon her.' he said, his tone melancholy. 'When I returned from campaigning in the Border Princedoms, I purchased an honourable discharge from the army and we retired to Nuln.'
'I see. And your wife... does she await your homecoming?'
'No, ' said Kaspar, shaking his head. 'Madeline died three years ago. She collapsed in our garden while tending to her roses. The priest of Morr said her heart simply gave out, that it had no more life to give. He said she would have felt nothing, which I suppose is a blessing of sorts.'
'Oh, I'm so sorry, Kaspar.' said Anastasia, sliding along the divan and taking his hands in hers. 'That was thoughtless of me. Please forgive me, I didn't mean for you to recall such a painful memory.'
Kaspar said, 'That's alright, Anastasia, you weren't to know.'
'Maybe not, but I should have been more thoughtful. I too know what it is to lose a loved one. Andrej, my husband, was murdered six years ago.'
Kaspar reached up and wiped a burgeoning tear from the corner of Anastasia's eye.
'I'm sorry. Was the murderer ever caught?'
'Pah! The city watch and the Chekist did nothing! Andrej, Ursun rest his soul, was in some ways a very sweet man, but in others very naive. Unbeknownst to me, he had invested some of his money in some rather colourful ventures with a lichnostyob called Chekatilo.'
Kaspar had cause already to despise Chekatilo and mentally chalked up another.
'I know of Herr Chekatilo.' he said.
'Well, no one knows for sure, but I was told that Andrej was on his way home from a meeting of the Merchant's Guild when they say he was set upon by some footpads. They robbed him of his purse and beat him to death with an iron bar.'
Kaspar thought of the version of this tale Sofia had told him and gave thanks to whomever had spared Anastasia the truth of from where her husband had actually been returning.
'Of course, nothing was ever done about it, but I knew the truth of the matter. I couldn't prove anything of course, but I knew in my heart that the bastard had a hand in Andrej's death.'
Anastasia's eyes filled with tears and her hands flew to her face. 'I'm so sorry, I apologise for my language, but the thought of that piece of human filth still walking the streets makes me so angry.'
Kaspar leaned close and put his arm around her shoulders, unsure as to what he could say to comfort her. Instead he just pulled her close and let her rest her head on his shoulder, smudging kohl from her teary eyes onto his jerkin.
'Don't worry,' promised Kaspar. 'I won't let him hurt you ever again.'
IV
KASPAR PLACED A coin into the hand of the groom holding his mount, pleased to see that the man had taken the time to brush out the horse's silver mane and tail as well as clearing its hooves of stones. He gripped the saddle horn and swung onto his horse's back, casting a protective glance back at Anastasia's home.
They had taken comfort in each other's arms for some minutes before Anastasia had excused herself and Kaspar decided that he should leave her to her grief and withdraw. The scent of her hair and skin were still in his nostrils as he and the Knights Panther guided their horses back onto the Magnustrasse.
Dusk was drawing in and the sun slowly sinking below the line of buildings in the west. Kaspar saw six riders at the end of the street, silhouetted in the dying rays of the sun and his heart sank as he recognised the spiked coxcomb of Sasha Kajetan. He and five of his muscular, blade-pierced warriors cantered towards them, their leader's face cold and his violet eyes blazing in fury.
'Sigmar's blood, not this.' hissed Kaspar under his breath. The two Knights Panther pushed their horses in front of his, wrapping their mounts' reins around their left hands while gripping their swords threateningly.
Kaspar said, 'Ignore them. We'll try and go around them.'
Valdhaas nodded as the three of them walked their mounts to the edge of the street, keeping their own horses between Kajetan's men and the ambassador.
But the swordsman was having none of it, his warriors spreading out to block the street in a long line. Kaspar slid his hand beneath his cloak and eased back the flint on his pistol.
'What are you doing here?' snapped Kajetan.
Kaspar ignored him, keeping his eyes focussed on the end of the street and sliding his finger around the curved silver trigger. He saw other dark horsemen gathered there, but couldn't make out who they were in the glare of the setting sun. Kaspar and the knights kept moving forwards, but Kajetan and his warriors expertly walked their horses backwards. The swordsman kept his gaze locked with Kaspar.
'I asked you a question, Empire man.'
'And I ignored you.'
Kajetan's sabre was in his hand so quickly Kaspar barely saw it leave its sheath.
'When I ask a question, I expect an answer.'
Valdhaas and his comrade quickly drew their swords and, realising this situation could get out of hand with the slightest spark, Kaspar said, 'I was visiting a friend, if you must know. Madam Vilkova invited me to call upon her and I accepted her gracious invitation.'
Kajetan said, 'I told you to stay away from her.'
'I do as I please, Herr Kajetan, and do not count myself beholden to you in whom I may visit.' replied Kaspar. He saw Kajetan's eyes fasten on the shoulder of his tunic and quickly realised what the swordsman was looking at.
The smudge of kohl from Anastasia's eyelashes.
Kajetan's eyes widened and his jaw tensed.
Kaspar realised what was coming and whipped out his cocked pistol, aiming it square between Kajetan's eyes. The swordsman froze, a tight smile playing around the corner of his mouth.
'You going to shoot me, Empire man?'
'If I have to,' answered Kaspar.
'My men would kill you all for that,' assured Kajetan.
'Yes, they probably would, but you'd still be dead.'
'Is of no matter,' shrugged Kajetan and Kaspar was shocked to see he really meant it.
The frozen moment stretched for long seconds before a clipped voice from behind Kajetan and his men said, 'Ambassador von Velten, Sasha Kajetan. I would appreciate it if you would both lower your weapons. My men have all of you covered with muskets and I assure you, they are all excellent shots.'
Reluctantly, Kaspar broke eye contact with the swordsman, seeing Vladimir Pashenko and ten mounted Chekist, all with short-barrelled carbines aimed at them.
'Now, please,' said Pashenko. Ten musket flints cocked with a series of loud clicks.
Kaspar eased down the flintlock of his pistol and slowly holstered it as Kajetan reluctantly sheathed his curved cavalry sabre.
The leader of the Chekist walked his horse forward, interposing it between Kaspar and the swordsman.
'It seems you attract trouble, herr ambassador,' said Pashenko.
'Have
you had your men following me?' asked Kaspar.
'Of course,' replied the Chekist as though it were the most natural thing in the world and Kaspar should not be surprised. 'You are a potential suspect in a murder investigation, why would I not have you watched? And it would appear that you should be glad I did. I am sure this little drama would have ended badly for you had we not intervened.'
Kajetan sneered and Pashenko turned his attention to him. 'Do not think that your reputation protects you from my attentions either, Sasha. Had I allowed you to kill this man, you would have danced a jig on the end of the hangman's rope in Geroyev Square before the week was out.'
'I'd like to have seen you try,' said Kajetan. He spat on the ground before Kaspar, before turning his horse and galloping eastwards, his men close behind.
Kaspar felt the tension drain from him as he watched Kajetan's retreating back, running a hand across his scalp and letting out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
'If I were you,' advised Pashenko, 'I would steer clear of that one. He is in love with Madam Vilkova and love makes a man do foolish things.'
Though he despised the Chekist, Kaspar forced himself to be gracious. 'Thank you, Herr Pashenko, for coming to our aid. This could have got out of hand very quickly.'
'Do not be so quick to thank me, herr ambassador. Part of me wanted to let Sasha kill you, but he is a hero to our people and it would be frowned upon if I were to have him hanged.'
Pashenko turned his horse and said, 'But you do not enjoy such a privileged status, herr ambassador, so I would be mindful of who you point that pistol at.'
CHAPTER FIVE
I
THE FIRST SNOW broke over Kislev as dusk drew in on Mittherbst, a day sacred to Ulric, the god of battle and winter. The priests of Ulric rejoiced as the first flakes drifted from the leaden sky, proclaiming that the favour of the wolf god was with them. Others were less certain: the snows and plummeting temperatures were certain to cause great misery and suffering amongst the thousands of refugees filling the city and dwelling in the sprawling canvas camps beyond its walls.
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