by Cutter, Leah
It was unfair. All of it.
Yet, all he could do was wait.
# # #
Lukas waited ten years before he received the first sign that his banishment was nearing an end.
Chapter Five
Germany, 1970s to Eleven Years Ago
Rudi
Rudi waited, anxious and alone, in the magic practice room after Lady Metzler, the king’s mother, had told the rest of the class they could go. He’d failed the latest test. Magic slipped through his fingers as if they were still paws. He couldn’t hold on to any of it. He hoped he hadn’t failed so badly he’d be sent home immediately instead of at the end of the summer. He’d already missed the big Fourth of July party at home, celebrating the United States bicentennial. To be sent there now, in disgrace…Rudi shivered.
His life couldn’t get any worse.
The room smelled of rosemary, straw, twine, dried roses, and all the other boys from the hound clan, sent there for the summer to learn. It looked more like the chemistry lab at his high school back in Pennsylvania than what he’d imagined a room for learning magic looked like: It had porcelain sinks, stainless steel tables, and white cabinets with frosted glass doors lining the walls.
Magic had been nothing like his dreams, or his favorite books, like Andre Norton, Susan Cooper, or even Ray Bradbury. It was like trying to catch a single drop of oil in a boiling pot of water.
His dad had been so hopeful, sending Rudi back to Germany to stay with his aunt and uncle, be presented to the new king of the hound clan, and spend the summer learning. The new king wasn’t that much older than Rudi, barely out of high school himself, but he’d looked so solemn sitting on the great stone throne in the court, with curly black hair and eyes bluer than the summer sky. The carved hounds on either side had looked more fierce than the king.
Lady Metzler came back in the classroom finally. She wore a fuzzy pink cardigan, tan slacks, and gold aviator glasses. She looked like a librarian, with wild black curls going gray and soft, and amber-colored eyes, not like one of the few humans in the world who not only could practice magic, but who had enough skill that she could teach it.
“Are you going to fail me?” Rudi asked breathlessly, then looked down, ashamed. His dad would smack him for showing no discipline.
“Of course. You have no magic whatsoever. If fact, you seem almost like anti-magic. Weaker charms and spells don’t work on you,” Lady Metzler said dismissively. She walked over to her desk at the front of the room.
Rudi heard papers being shuffled, but he didn’t look up from his feet. His sneakers still had mud around the edges from the forest earlier that afternoon, when the hound master, Klaus, and his new assistant, Tilgard, had laid scents between the trees for them to follow. He’d done well at that—like his dad, he was a scent hound; not a purebred, but from good fox terrier stock.
“Oh, don’t look so sad, boy. There’s good work for people without magic.”
Rudi nodded, then looked up. “So you aren’t sending me back to the States?”
“If I had to send home every boy who fumbled a spell, there’d only be three or four students left.”
Rudi breathed a huge sigh of relief. “Is there something else you wanted?” he asked, suddenly realizing that Lady Metzler was staring at him.
“Are you good with math?” she asked.
“Yes, ma’am.” While he enjoyed reading and getting lost in the worlds people created, he also loved the simple structure and clean dynamics of numbers. His dad was a banker, and claimed Rudi’s head for numbers came from him.
“I may have use for a boy who’s good with numbers and bad with magic,” the lady said.
“How can I be of service?” Rudi asked politely, remembering to stand up straight, at attention.
“Not yet. You’re still young. You need to prove to me that you can excel at keeping secrets, beyond the recitations and just being a member of the hound clan.”
Rudi gulped. “Yes, ma’am.” The mother of the king was asking him to keep a secret? Greater than just hiding his hound soul from the every-day world? “I’ll never tell anyone a single word you say to me,” he promised. No one had every asked him anything so important in all his sixteen years.
“You’ll prove yourself later, son. For now, just keep this conversation between us. You can go.”
“Thank you, ma’am. You won’t regret it. You can trust me.”
Rudi bounded from the room. He raced down the hall, grinning widely. Maybe she wanted him to be a spy, or act as a courier, or—
“Hey, Rudi,” Stefan asked, coming up to him. “You okay, man?”
Rudi ground to a halt.
He couldn’t let anyone know anything.
“Yeah,” Rudi said, heaving a large sigh. “I failed the last test. Really blew it. But she isn’t going to send me home,” he added. He figured that was a good enough lie to cover why he was happy after being asked to stay after class.
“Rudi, Rudi, Rudi,” Stefan said, punching his shoulder. “You just gotta relax, let the magic flow to you.”
“Is that how it is for you?” Rudi asked, throwing his arm over the shoulder of his friend as they walked down the hall. “All glowing lights and rainbows?”
Stefan tweaked Rudi in the ribs, making him shy away. “No, nothing like that hippie stuff. I can help you later, tonight, if you want.”
Rudi remembered that Lady Metzler had said it would be better if he was bad with magic. “Naw. Thanks, though. I’ll just stick with what I know.”
Stefan laid his finger along his nose. “Tracking scents?”
“Yep,” Rudi said, nodding.
And keeping secrets.
# # #
Rudi did everything Lady Metzler asked of him: Studied math and the brand-new field of computers at college, signed up for the hound guard for two years to learn how to fight, then took a job at a small firm in Germany, where he learned about network security and hacking.
Their communication was always simple, but not direct: He’d write letters and postcards to her, telling her about his life, and she would write in return. They never said anything explicit, as if they both assumed someone else was reading every word.
Instead, Lady Metzler would ask about his computer classes, commenting on how they seemed to be the future for a bright young man, or telling him stories about her nephew who had just joined the guard and how much he’d learned, or mentioning that she’d heard about this company in Germany, and what a great opportunity it would be for an ambitious young man.
Only someone matching words with deeds would see just how she’d directed his life.
When Rudi moved from the firm in Germany to one in the US, the letters still came, but less frequently, now. When he mentioned going back to Germany for a visit, Lady Metzler said she thought she would be away, and he wouldn’t be able to see her.
Rudi spent a sleepless night in his Austin, Texas, apartment, wondering if he’d done something wrong, if he’d disappointed her. But in a few months, her Christmas letter came, full of casual news with no messages, and he knew she was just keeping him at a distance.
Keeping Rudi hidden until she really needed him.
Based on her initial guidance, Rudi stayed in computer security, becoming a “white hat” hacker. If Lady Metzler ever needed to communicate with him in secret electronically, he was prepared.
However, she never gave any indication of that, so they merely stayed pen-pals.
After decades of occasional cards and letters, the Christmas after the prince, Lukas, had been presented to the court as a full member of the hound clan, Lady Metzler mentioned that she hadn’t seen Rudi in so long and that it might be nice if he came to visit.
Dutifully, Rudi arranged for a two-week vacation that spring, to see his relatives in Germany as well as visit the court.
There had always been a guardhouse just past the edge of the woods on the single road into the castle. However, when Rudi had been spent time in the hound guard, it had been a primit
ive hut with a plain wooden gate that opened and shut manually.
Now, it still looked like a shed, but Rudi could smell that it was reinforced with concrete and steel. There were sensors in the road, and cameras, too. A quick glance inside showed computers and monitors displaying live footage from earlier down the road and further up it as well.
Nothing could replace the guard, though: The finest noses had always been selected for the hut. Rudi knew they could easily trace his path there, from the hotel he’d stayed at the night before, possibly the airports he’d passed through, as well as what part of the States he’d come from.
He easily got out of his car, stretching as he did so. “Rudolf Von DeWhite,” he introduced himself, handing over his passport to the first guard while his partner sniffed around the car.
The guard merely nodded, using a handheld scanner across Rudi’s passport. It was real; Rudi didn’t have to travel anonymously to the court. But he always kept other papers, with other names, just in case.
The guards wore a simple white and black security outfit, with his last name, “Fuchs,” embroidered in red on the right. Rudi remembered laughing about his uniform, calling it “stripper clothes” because they were deliberately made to tear off so a hound could change and not get his legs caught in his underwear.
“Just visiting?” Fuchs asked, handing back Rudi’s passport.
“Yes. It’s been, twenty, twenty-five years since I was here last? When I was in the guard,” Rudi added with a grin.
“Twenty-seven,” the guard said, glancing at his scanner.
“Ah, thank you,” Rudi said, a little taken aback that they kept such complete records now. The court hadn’t always been so concerned with security. Had something happened?
The guard nodded and stepped back, saying, “Have a pleasant visit.”
Rudi slid back into his rental car and drove slowly up the steep hill to the castle. It looked the same as it had, with brilliant green grass running up to it, immaculately trimmed. Tulips, crocuses, and daffodils bloomed in artful disarray along the walk. Beautiful Japanese maples, slender Cyprus, and hearty yews stood guard near the door.
The castle itself was solid gray stone, a Victorian fantasy of turrets and crenellations, the windows too plentiful and wide to provide adequate medieval protection. More cameras were mounted high on the walls, along with heat and motion sensors.
Was all that high-tech security necessary? Didn’t the clan have the best senses to detect when something was wrong?
A bored young woman in a severe black dress with her hair pulled back in an equally severe bun looked up Rudi’s name on her laptop, then showed him to one of the small tea rooms on the second floor, overlooking the formal garden in the back, telling him to wait for Lady Metzler there.
The room was done in different shades of cream and white, with subtle roses blooming in the wallpaper, the motif repeated in the moldings along the fifteen foot ceilings. The furniture was all heavy, old, and painted white, with gold-, white-, and beige-striped cushions. Outside, Rudi was glad to see that the squares of different grass were still there in the first garden. He’d always loved them as a boy.
Lady Metzler’s scent proceeded her: Rudi recognized her familiar lavender soap, as well as the slightly bitter, chemical smell he remembered from her classroom. She wore a dark blue cardigan over black dress slacks, her curls all gray now, her eyes still amber brown.
“My lady,” Rudi said, taking her hand and bowing over it.
“Rudolf. You have grown into a handsome one,” she said, looking him over.
“Thank you,” he said politely. He knew he was handsome, and one of his girlfriends had said he looked like George Clooney with his salt-and-pepper hair, cleft chin, and perpetually single air.
“You never married, did you?” Lady Metzler asked as Rudi pulled a chair out for her.
“No, ma’am,” he said. He’d never found anyone he’d loved enough that he even felt tempted to share his secrets.
She merely nodded. “I’ve asked my grandson to stop by after his lessons this afternoon.”
“I’ll be honored to meet him,” Rudi said, sitting down himself.
A young man wearing a plain black suit came in the room, carrying a tray with a rose and white china tea pot, matching cups and saucers, cream and sugar, as well as a cut crystal decanter full of dark apple brandy with fine glass snifters.
Rudi served them both tea to start. They talked of his work, his father, and his uncles. He listened while Lady Metzler told him about her most recent classes, laughing about the boys, though assuring him that none has been as bad a student as he had been.
They reminisced as if they were old friends, Rudi noticed, though they never had been. He wondered if the performance was for the cameras not so hidden in the corners, or if there was some other reason they pretended to be closer than they were.
After they finished their tea, but before they started the brandy, a young boy came in. He looked at Rudi warily, his gaze strangely assessing and more adult than a six-year-old boy’s. He had the same black hair his father had had when he’d been a boy, the same startling blue eyes, the same very solemn air.
“Lukas, I want you to meet Rudolf Von DeWhite,” Lady Metzler said, taking the boy’s hand. “He’s a friend.”
The boy breathed in deeply, taking in Rudi’s scent.
Rudi did the same. The boy didn’t have the milky scent of a puppy, or even a new dog. He smelled like a grizzled hound, strong and mature.
“It is a pleasure to know you,” Rudi said, curious.
“And you,” Lukas said with a nod.
“Now, go play,” Lady Metzler said, squeezing the boy’s hand.
Lukas looked at her quizzically before he grinned and bounded off, finally acting like the boy he was.
“I worry about him,” Lady Metzler said, picking up a snifter.
Rudi took the hint and poured her a finger’s worth of brandy, then himself. “What are you worried about?” he asked.
“He’s different. Not a pure sight hound, like his father.”
“Ah,” Rudi said. He’d heard talk about the boy, how he looked like a mongrel. “Do you know what breed he is?”
Lady Metzler looked at Rudi sharply. “He’s royalty. When the time comes, he’ll take the forms easily enough.” Only purebred royalty could take on any dog shape they chose. Most hounds, like Rudi, could only change into one form, that of their hound soul.
“That’s good,” Rudi said. And it was. “Though isn’t his cousin, Oscar, also prepared for the throne?” After King Metzler had been crowned, he hadn’t taken a wife for many years, and Lukas had been born almost ten years after his sister.
“Yes. And Oscar will do a good enough job, as king.”
Interesting. So Lady Metzler didn’t think Lukas would be king? Was his breed so off, then? But Rudi didn’t ask—he couldn’t, not unless he was certain they were alone and unobserved. He had the equipment with him to take care of that, but she hadn’t asked for such privacy.
Interesting. So Lady Metzler didn’t think Lukas would be king? Was his breed so off, then? But Rudi didn’t ask—he couldn’t, not unless he was certain they were alone and unobserved. He had the equipment with him to take care of that, but she hadn’t asked for such privacy.
Lady Metzler nodded at Rudi, as if listening in on this thoughts and agreeing. “My dreams—my dreams make me worried for the boy. They’ve always guided me, you know. You may think I’m a foolish old woman, but they’ve always foretold the future.” She turned her head and stared directly into Rudi’s eyes. “They’ve given me time to prepare.”
Rudi swallowed. He felt his spine straighten, and the hair along the back of his neck stood up. “We’re all very lucky to have you, my lady,” he said. “If there’s ever anything I can do to help, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
They finished their brandy, and Lady Metzler announced that she needed to go to her next appointment.
Rudi stood an
d took her hand again. This time, he slipped a cell phone into it as he bowed over it, kissing the back of it.
Lady Metzler acted as if nothing had happened, sliding both her hands into her pockets after he let go.
The phone was a burner, unregistered, bought with cash from a dealer who kept his own secrets. Only one number was programmed into it, and it wasn’t Rudi’s usual number. It came with a program that automatically scrambled the signal. It wasn’t unhackable—nothing was—but unless someone was prepared, a short call would be difficult to hijack or trace.
“It was so good to see you, old friend,” Lady Metzler said with a sincere smile.
“You too,” Rudi said with another bow as she swept out of the room.
On the way back to his car, Rudi smiled faintly, tamping down on his excitement and anxiety.
After all these years, all his training with security, he might finally be of use to the king’s mother.
At last.
# # #
It was a little over a year later before the twin phone, the one matching the phone Rudi had given Lady Metzler, rang.
“Come and get my grandson. Come as fast as you can, and arrive near midnight. “
The call ended abruptly. Rudi dropped the phone on the floor, then stepped on it, cracking the case and all the electronics. Then he scooped it up, got a bowl full of water, and tossed the pieces into it.
After the last visit with Lady Metzler, Rudi had gone into freelance work. He could live anywhere in the world as long as he had a good internet connection. He worked under more than one alias, with more than one tax ID for his various companies.
It took him a single day to arrange everything: His belongings to be packed up and put into storage, his most recent job finished up, more than one set of tickets bought under different names. He knew he wasn’t impossible to trace—no one was—but he made it as difficult as he could.
Rudi arrived at the castle late, as Lady Metzler had asked, close to midnight. The guards at the gate knew he was coming and waved him through. A young man waited in the entranceway of the castle, and Lady Metzler joined them soon afterward.
