by Steve Cash
Everyone in the noisy crowd wore big coats, caps, and boots. All were in a hurry to get home. I was bumped hard several times and never looked up or said a word. I walked in a straight line until I saw them, all of them, huddled together in a corner of the station on two benches. They looked like children waiting for their parents. They each wore boots and heavy coats like everyone else, except they were not like everyone else and never had been. They were in the middle of a rapid and fierce conversation, which allowed me to notice them before they noticed me. One of them, a girl, an ancient girl with beautiful black eyes, turned and stared at me with a look of total surprise. “Zianno!” she shouted, then smiled and whispered, “my love.”
It was Opari. Ray Ytuarte sat next to her. Trumoi-Meq, in his tattered navy jacket, sat next to Ray. Sailor sat on the second bench. Zeru-Meq, whom I had not seen since China, sat next to him. They all looked up at once.
“Can this be true?” Sailor asked. His “ghost eye” swirled like the snow outside the station.
I walked the few feet between us and stared down at him, then looked at Opari. Her eyes flashed up at me. “Oh, it’s true, all right,” I said.
Ray said, “Damn, Z!” He moved over next to Sailor and I sat down next to Opari. I took her hand and she laced her fingers in mine. I glanced back at Sailor. “But why are all of you here, Sailor?”
He nodded toward Zeru-Meq and Mowsel. “The three of us were closing in on Susheela the Ninth. We tracked her from New Delhi to Berlin, then to Oslo. We lost her trail here in Voss. She vanished again. Yesterday, Opari and Ray appeared without warning. They were following Zuriaa’s trail and a single clue—an old Meq word—‘Askenfada.’”
“We followed the trail from Reykjavik to Trondheim to Voss,” Opari said.
“We lost it, Z,” Ray added, “right here in this station.”
“Now, why are you here, Zianno?” Sailor asked.
I was just as confused as they were. I looked around the station. “The Fleur-du-Mal lives near here,” I answered. “A hidden cove called ‘Askenfada.’ Geaxi and Nova are there now, waiting for his return.”
“The Fleur-du-Mal has a home?” Ray asked.
“It’s a little more than that.”
Trumoi-Meq leaned forward and grinned, exposing his missing tooth. He looked everyone in the eye, one by one, until he stopped at Zeru-Meq. He said, “It would seem we have a coincidence beyond proportion.”
Sailor interrupted, as if something had just occurred to him. “All five Stones have been together only once since the time of Those-Who-Fled!”
Zeru-Meq turned to Sailor. His bright green eyes sparkled. He was the uncle of the Fleur-du-Mal and the only one among us who knew his true history. “Yes, old one,” he said, then glanced at Mowsel, “and the occasion is no coincidence.”
“What are you saying?” Opari asked.
“Today is the seventh day of December, no?”
“Yes.”
“We have been tricked, Opari, tricked and manipulated into being here for a celebration—a very wicked one, I imagine.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“Xanti Otso, my only nephew, bless him, was born on December 7. There is something he wants all of us to see together and he was clever enough to arrange the event on his own birthday. His arrogance is boundless.”
“And his madness,” Sailor said. He was turning the star sapphire around his forefinger in frustration. “What are the intentions and involvement of Susheela the Ninth and Zuriaa in this ridiculous scheme?”
No one said a word. Behind us, the crowd was thinning. I turned and glanced through the windows of the train station. It was still snowing.
Ray broke the silence with the truth. “There’s only one way to find out,” he said.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Let’s go to the party!”
Rune was standing near the exit doors, staring out through the windows and peacefully smoking a pipe. His wild, tangled hair seemed to fly out in every direction. I tapped him on the shoulder. He turned and the pipe fell from his mouth. Rune had gotten used to seeing three of us together, but to see me with five others was almost too much for him. Staring each of them in the face, Rune said, “Illusjon! Magisk! Umulig! Impossible!”
“We must hurry, Rune,” I told him. “I’ll try to explain later.”
He looked at me and laughed. “There is an explanation?”
“It’s complicated,” I said, then we turned to leave for the docks. The cabin of the fishing boat was cramped, but we managed to fit inside, protected from the wind and cold and snow, which fell all the way to Askenfada.
Rune cut the engines to a low drone as we entered the hidden inlet behind the headlands. Once we passed into the channel between the cliffs, the silence around us became total. Slowly, we cleared the channel and drifted into the secret cove and harbor. Fog and snow made it impossible to see the ring of surrounding mountain peaks, but both valleys were visible.
“Damn,” Ray said. “You’d never know this was here.”
“Precisely,” Zeru-Meq said.
“Is the channel the only entry?” Sailor asked.
“The only entry and the only exit,” I answered.
“I now know why this place carries the name Askenfada,” Mowsel said, amazed by the silent beauty and extreme isolation of the ancient cove. “The Meq have been here long before Xanti Otso.”
“Yes,” Opari said quietly. “I can hear them.”
“No,” Sailor whispered, “not them—just one…a very old one of us.”
I glanced at Sailor. It was strange. For a split second, his “ghost eye” had stopped swirling and cleared completely.
Barely audible, Ray said, “Susheela the Ninth.”
Rune stared straight ahead, toward Svein waiting for us on the tiny dock below his farmstead. All of us, all the Meq inside the cabin, stared across the cove to the other side. We looked up the valley toward the shadowy maze of stone and timber structures dotting the hillsides. The complex was almost invisible through the falling snow, but in the greenhouse and in the private residence of the Fleur-du-Mal, the lights were on.
Rune turned and caught us staring. He sensed our concern and unease.
I realized at that moment how completely we had been deceived. The element of surprise was exposed and lost. The irony is that we never had it. The Fleur-du-Mal had it all along. Now he was waiting for us.
Sailor must have been thinking the same thing. “An obvious trap,” he said. “He will be expecting us by water. Is there no other way across?”
“Yes,” I answered, “one—but in the snow and this late in the day, the trip would be impossible.”
Sailor turned the star sapphire on his forefinger round and round and glared at the lights across the cove. “He knew it would be this way. There is no longer any reason for stealth. As Ray said, ‘Let’s go to the party’ and see what this mad child has in mind.”
After docking, we stepped from the fishing boat one by one. Oddly, Svein showed no surprise whatsoever at the number of us. “This way,” he said, “there is warmth inside.” Svein’s voice was the only thing I heard and it cut through the profound stillness surrounding us. Snow fell in large, soft flakes, and our footsteps landed in silence.
Geaxi opened the wide front door, expecting to see me, but not what trailed behind. Once she saw the others, she let out the high, trilling sound she and Opari make when something extraordinary occurs. Even in the frigid cold, the sound gave me chills.
Sailor paused as he passed by Geaxi. The two of them stared at each other without expression. Sailor smiled first. “You seem well, Geaxi.”
“And you, Sailor,” Geaxi said flatly. She turned to go inside before he could see her smile. Opari gave me a wink.
Sailor also stopped when he saw Nova. He noticed the change in her instantly. “Aha!” he said. “It has happened! You once proclaimed or predicted ‘the shift is soon.’ I see clearly, Nova, there has been a shift.
” Sailor gave his niece a long and warm embrace, the first time I had seen him do so. Briefly, he introduced her to Zeru-Meq, then said to all of us, “We must talk now.”
Rune and Svein disappeared into the kitchen while we gathered in the living room. In minutes, we were out of our heavy coats, gloves, and caps, standing in a semicircle in front of a crackling fire, warming our hands and sipping hot cider.
Sailor said, “I will begin. I will tell everything Zeru-Meq, Mowsel, and I have learned to this point. Opari will follow and speak for her and Ray, then you, Zianno—tell us what you know.” He paused and looked hard at each of us. “We must be brief and do this quickly. Perhaps we can solve this riddle. Only then should we discuss our purpose for being here, regardless of the Fleur-du-Mal’s purpose.”
“What is that?” I asked.
“The same as yours, Zianno,” Mowsel said. “We are here to assassinate the assassin. We are here to kill the Fleur-du-Mal.”
I glanced at Sailor and looked at Zeru-Meq. Xanti Otso was an evil, amoral being, but he was also related to Zeru-Meq. I wondered how Zeru-Meq felt about plotting to kill his own nephew. He saw my concern and said, “The Fleur-du-Mal, poor soul, shall die the way he prefers to kill—by the blade.” He reached down and withdrew a long dagger from inside his boot. The knife blade glinted in the firelight. There was silence in the room, then Sailor, in his measured voice, began to talk.
Thirty minutes passed. Sailor spoke and Opari spoke and I spoke, accurately recounting the events leading each of us to Norway and Askenfada. We were seeking an answer or a clue as to why this elaborate rendezvous had been orchestrated. Why was Zuriaa here? Was Susheela the Ninth involved or had she also been tricked and lured to this “final enclosure”? Was the Octopus with her? The Fleur-du-Mal most likely knew what we wanted, but what did he want? All was still a mystery.
Trumoi-Meq suggested there was no need to wait any longer. Rune and Antoine would ferry us across the cove and accompany us the rest of the way from a distance. Svein would stay here. Once there, we would act on instinct. We should remain apart and approach the residence with extreme caution. We must be vigilant and ready to act at any moment.
We all agreed without saying a word. In a mock toast, Sailor held out his mug of cider toward the fire, which popped and crackled at almost the same instant. “Egibizirik bilatu,” he said bitterly. “Let us hope this is a proper course of action.” Sailor set his mug down on the hearth. He reached for his heavy coat and removed a small leather satchel from an inside pocket. He opened the satchel and handed out five daggers to Geaxi, Nova, Ray, Opari, and me.
“The ‘Knives of Caesar’?” Geaxi asked.
“Yes,” Sailor answered.
I looked down at my dagger, which had an ivory handle engraved with a Latin inscription. “These aren’t—”
“Yes,” Sailor interrupted. “These are a few of the knives used to murder Caesar. I have always carried them, but never used them. Now is the perfect time.”
Svein advised us to have one cup of soup before we left, which we did. After collecting our coats, gloves, caps, and mufflers, we made our way down to the fishing boat and climbed aboard. Rune started the engines and we pushed off. There was no other sound in the cove. The snow on the peaks of the mountains looked heavier and deeper than ever.
As we made the crossing, I began to experience something strange, yet I was certain I had experienced it before. It was not déjà vu; it was an echo through time from someone shouting in a language I did not understand. It felt like a warning or signal of distress. It was old. Opari squeezed my arm. I knew she also heard it or felt it. We were huddled together, standing in the stern of the fishing boat. Everyone else stood packed inside the cabin with Rune. Ahead of us, the long dock on the opposite shore slowly came into view. The speedboat was anchored there inside a covered slip. Beyond the dock and up the steep slope, I could see the hothouse lights of the expanded greenhouse. Through the swirling snow and against the dark background of cliffs and peaks that surrounded the compound, the powerful electric lights burned like a cluster of fuzzy stars.
Rune cut the engines and docked the fishing boat with barely a sound. We stepped carefully onto the dock and Mowsel turned to Rune. He asked him to follow at a safe distance, but Rune refused and insisted on going with us. He had his own personal reasons and would not even consider staying behind. No more was said about it and we set out for the nearest stone path leading up the slope toward the greenhouse and the home of the Fleur-du-Mal. We walked in three groups. Rune, Sailor, and Zeru-Meq led the way, followed by Geaxi, Nova, and Ray. Trumoi-Meq, Opari, and I were last.
Our progress up the hillside was slow. The complex of buildings had changed since Rune owned the property. After two days and nights of continuous snowfall, he was deliberate about choosing our route. Everything in Askenfada was built on a series of connecting terraces. The Fleur-du-Mal’s residence and greenhouse were on the highest terrace, virtually at the foot of the massive cliffs and overhangs, and there were several ways to approach. No one spoke as we climbed steadily higher and closer. Tall firs, their limbs heavy with snow, were scattered between the stone paths and buildings. One by one, we climbed the terraces, each one slightly steeper than the last. I glanced up at what I could see of the sky. We probably had more than an hour of daylight left, but it was already getting hard to see. On the terrace just below the greenhouse, Sailor motioned for everyone to stop with a wave of his arm. In silence, we each looked up at the bright lights shining through the foggy windows of the greenhouse. Every other building in the complex was dark, including the Fleur-du-Mal’s private residence. The greenhouse was the most reconstructed and renovated structure on the property. A new wing now stretched a hundred feet from the residence itself to the building that was once the entrance to the abandoned tunnel and now housed a generator for the hothouse lights. Directly behind everything, a rock overhang rose fifty feet in the air. I noticed huge snowdrifts piled high on the ridge above the overhang. Opari tugged at my sleeve and pointed out three entrances to the greenhouse, spaced about thirty feet apart. Three stone stairways led down from the doors to our terrace. Sailor was thinking the same thing and waved for each group to cover one of the doors. Without a word, we spread out and climbed the final set of steps to the upper terrace.
On the top step, we paused and stared at the amazing structure Rune had begun and the Fleur-du-Mal had completed. Made of iron, stone, and glass, the long greenhouse glowed like a warm lamp against the frozen background of rock and snow. Then we heard the music, barely audible and coming from inside the greenhouse. It was a recording. The melody was haunting, spare, and beautiful. I looked at Opari and Mowsel. Mowsel whispered, “Mozart—Piano Concerto Number 23 in A—Adagio. My favorite.”
The entrance itself was recessed in the wall and the door was in shadow. On either side, the glass windows were fogged over, but only the lower panes. Opari stood watch inside the recess while I climbed on Mowsel’s shoulders and peered into a higher window. I looked inside. The rose garden was directly beneath me. Dozens and dozens of rosebushes, all in red, were planted in perfect rows. All had been tended immaculately. Bright lights shone down at certain angles, capable of creating the illusion of different times of day and seasons. The soil in which the roses were planted was dark and rich. Svein had said the foundation was three meters deep and could be heated from below, if needed. Deep within the garden, a space had been cleared. In the center of the space stood a rare Ming Dynasty three-panel screen. It was positioned behind the phonograph playing the music. Six feet away a boy was snipping and trimming a rosebush while Mozart played. He wore leather boots laced to the knees. His dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail and tied with a green ribbon. He had his back to me. He worked carefully on the roses and made each cut with precision. Suddenly he stopped and laid down his scissors. A second passed—two, three, a dozen—finally, slowly, his head turned in my direction. Then I saw it, there in his pierced ear. This boy was not wearin
g the ruby earrings of the Fleur-du-Mal. He was wearing Usoa’s blue diamond. It was Zuriaa!
She knew exactly where I was and looked in my eyes. A cruel smile crossed her face. She laughed and walked over to the standing screen. She folded back two of the panels, revealing a girl, a black girl, gagged with a red scarf and bound to a chair with rope. Her skin was the color of coffee beans, rich and dark. Her hair was black, silky, and cropped close to her head. Susheela the Ninth. In her lap was a small black box made of onyx, inlaid on top with a unique design in serpentine and lapis lazuli—the Octopus. She glared up at Zuriaa with fury in her green eyes. Zuriaa walked behind her and withdrew a curved dagger from her boot. She jerked back Susheela the Ninth’s chin with one hand and lightly traced the long knife blade across her throat, smiling at me as she did it.
I stood down from Mowsel’s shoulders and started to tell him what I’d seen. He shook his head and nodded toward the recess in the wall. I turned.
“Bonsoir, mon petit,” a soft, familiar voice said from the shadows.
My heart froze, but I said nothing.
“You are late,” he said. “What kept you, pray tell?”
I took a deep breath and glanced at Mowsel. “Yes, well…it snowed.”
I heard a rustling sound and a gasp from Opari. He pushed her forward and they came into the light. The Fleur-du-Mal was standing behind Opari. He was dressed in black and silver fur and leather. He held Opari’s head at an angle with one hand and a dagger to her throat with the other. Her eyes stared into mine. I saw anger and concern, but no fear. I told myself to calm down. Inside the greenhouse, the music had stopped playing.
“What do you think of Askenfada?” he asked, smiling.
