The Silent Deal: The Card Game, Book 1

  Chapter IX

  THE CROSSBONES CLAN

  Kasta Way. I can't believe it," Viktor whispered.

  Romulus stared at the tents and clucked in dismay. "Poor Charlotta. Here she is giving us advice of gold and you repay that girl with a handful of awkward moments."

  Viktor ignored him and continued to stare at the plain in disbelief. "What do we do now?"

  "We go," Romulus said, making his way down the grass valley.

  "We can't just walk into Kasta Way! We're outsiders!" Viktor hissed.

  "Just try not to look shifty," called Romulus.

  "Have you ever seen a mirror?" Viktor retorted, but his friend was too far down the hill to hear.

  Neither boy knew what to expect. Kasta Way was a place that lived in stories and poems, not a village in the Southeastern Steppes. It held the possibility of riches and romance, but many of its characters were thieves, drifters, and villains, and now those figures were right in front of them with beating hearts and breathing lungs. The blood brothers crept closer. From a horizontal view, the tents seem to go on forever.

  "Let's keep this quick," Viktor said.

  Romulus nodded. "We'll find what answers we can and then get out."

  They passed by small Gypsy children playing a game on the plain without receiving a second glace. Next came a group of middle-aged women wearing flowing garb. A few cloaked men cantered by on Appaloosa horses. Finally, the boys drew up at the smoky entrance of Kasta Way. Gypsies caught up in their own activities meandered past them, oblivious to their presence. Romulus' patchwork fur coat and Viktor's tattered coat made them fit in well enough, despite the lack of bright color that the Gypsies appeared to favor.

  "You know, maybe this won't be so bad," Viktor said, coughing a bit from the bonfire they were passing. "I've had a change of—"

  Romulus stopped and glanced back at Viktor in irritation. "Snap out of it, will you? We've just arrived and already you're pale as a ghost."

  Viktor's mouth was dry, but not from the smoke. He motioned sideways. In between two tents, a tall, pale youth with a sharp jawline, ruffled brown hair, and dark eyebrows was staring back at them. Thick smoke began rolling over the grassy ground, and it rose up around his legs, making it look as though the boy was floating.

  "That's him," Romulus uttered. "He was the one who punched in a Masqueraider's face in Prospekt Street."

  Viktor shivered, fanning away the growing smoke. "And if he's here, the rest of their gang—"

  "Can't be far off," said a voice behind them.

  Viktor and Romulus spun around to see the two strong, bare-chested twins. The boys sported tanned faces and short dark hair, and one wore an Irish tweed cap, while the other wore a cross necklace. They both, however, flicked open knives faster than a hummingbird's wing.

  Then somewhere amidst the thickening smoke, Viktor heard the cry that belonged to Belch, the high-pitched, pint-sized Gypsy. "Fire burn and cauldron bubble, release the smoke, Rover, and undo trouble!"

  Two things happened next: The air began to clear, and five figures emerged out of the smoke, forming a circle around Viktor and Romulus. There were the twins with their knives, the tall boxer cracking his knuckles, Belch with a metal rod, and Rover, a slim youth with shaggy brown hair, with a meshwork blanket—which presumably must have been used to entrap the smoke that now dispersed into the dusky sky.

  "Don't say anything," Romulus murmured to Viktor while their captors began arguing amongst themselves in their native Romani tongue.

  The boxer stepped forward and switched to fluent Russian. "Fond of jawing, are we? How about I break that running mouth of yours!"

  "Easy, Andrei, don't spoil the fun too early," said the twin with the cross necklace. "At least let us make proper introductions. I'm Dukker, and my twin in the stupid Irish hat is Cappi. Rover's the musician of the group, and Belch—the runt—well, you can ignore him."

  Andrei brandished a knife and pointed it at Viktor and Romulus to get their attention. "Oy, serfs, why are you here?"

  Viktor looked about cautiously. "We just ... wanted to see if this place existed."

  "Existed?" Andrei said slowly, raising his dark eyebrows.

  "Sorry, I mean, it's not every day you meet Gypsies."

  "What are we, Rusalka water nymphs?" Cappi snarled.

  "Or Shishiga wood-goblins?" spat Dukker.

  Romulus cut in to help. "It's just that we've just never met your people."

  "And for good reason!" said the twin, Dukker. "You Aryk-angels aren't supposed to be here."

  Cappi chuckled. "Though it isn't like your precious Master Molotov will miss you."

  "Well, we might as well get some work out of them before they ... depart," Andrei said with a clever grin. "In fact, we can even make them finish our job in the Boneyard."

  "I don't think that's a good idea ..." began Rover, who seemed to be the rational one in the group, but he trailed off as the twins pointed their blades at him, flashing menacing looks.

  Viktor's heart beat faster. "Boneyard? By that, do you mean graveyard?"

  "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet," declared Belch. "The wheel is come full circle, and I am here, Yoska Belcher, and we, the Crossbones Clan, are more than kin and less than kind!"

  Cappi rolled his eyes as the small boy bowed so low his orange coat and black headscarf touched the ground. "You can call him Belch, though, because every time he opens his mouth, it stinks."

  "Mostly of lies," added Dukker.

  Romulus snorted, which made Belch snap up, his rosy face enraged. "Oh, villain, villain, smiling damned villain! I will deal in poison with thee, or in bastinado, or in steel!" he squeaked. "I will kill thee a hundred and fifty ways!"

  Viktor's mouth fell open.

  Rover gave the blood brothers a shrug. "Just ignore him. So what're your names?"

  "Stop!" Andrei roared. "What's wrong with you, Rover? You're sick! How can you ask these boys their names knowing what'll come next?"

  The twin Cappi nodded. "Yeah, don't toy with them, Rover."

  Dukker scowled. "We expect those games from Belch—not you."

  Rover tried to defend himself, but Andrei clapped his hands together. "Welcome to Kasta Way, Aryk-angels!" the boxer announced in a mock-happy tone. "Follow me and pretty please keep your hands off any blunt and/or sharp objects that might catch your fancy."

  "Uhh ... Why are we going to a graveyard?" asked Viktor.

  "No more stupid questions. Now if you look to your left or right, you can get a glimpse of the escort who will voluntarily stab you if you make a false move. Cheers."

  Viktor looked at Romulus in alarm, waiting for him to light an Orange Split or disappear in a cloud of Blackbirds. No such thing happened. Instead they allowed themselves to be ushered into Kasta Way, led by Andrei and flanked by four capable Ruska Roma.

  "We've got to do something," Viktor whispered.

  "No, they could be our in," Romulus hissed back. "They just want to give us a scare. Besides, if this really does come down to fight, it's better it be in the graveyard, where we're not around a hundred of their closest living relatives."

  "No more talking!" Andrei called over his shoulder. "Rover, how about some music?"

  Rover pulled a wooden flute out of his green cloak and began to play a carefree, wandering tune. Accompanied by the woodland melody, Viktor began to relax as his captors led him into the wondrous world of Kasta Way.

  Romulus must have been right, Viktor found himself thinking. This is just a type of Ruska Roma initiation. I might as well enjoy the ride.

  Kasta Way was as magnificent as it was foreign. Men led bands of horses and ponies through trading markets, while others drank and fought, ducking in and out of tents. Clad in shawls and dresses decorated with glittering metals, the women chattered and cooked over cauldrons, adding fresh herbs to their concoctions. Boys wrestled and rolled dice, and girls danced around bonfires, where young men tossed powders into the flames, making them burst int
o rainbow hues. Strange wood, metal, and bone instruments bridged the generational gaps, and Rover played in and out of the musicians' melodies at will.

  Deep in the camp, the Crossbones Clan broke off from the tents and traveled down a path overgrown with tall grasses. A mist hung in the air; soft stars welcomed the coming night. As they approached a destroyed wooden fence, Rover cut off his tune, pocketing his flute. Silently they entered through a creaking gate.

  "The Boneyard," declared Andrei.

  Belch smiled manically, sweeping his arm out over hundreds of crosses and gravestones that sprouted up out of the field. "That way madness lies. Fair is foul, and foul is fair; hover through the fog and filthy air."

  A pit welled up in Viktor's stomach as he was made to march past the rows of headstones. Is this their idea of a joke?

  The gang drew up a dozen yards away from an abandoned shack sitting in the back of the graveyard. Andrei said something in the Romani language to one of the twins, who ducked away into the darkness.

  "What are we doing here?" Viktor asked, his voice cracking.

  "You're digging," answered Andrei.

  Dukker returned with two spades and dropped them at their feet. "Together you're to dig one hole as wide, deep, and long as these spades. Don't stop until you're finished."

  "What's the hole for?" Romulus said, glancing at the shovels uneasily. Viktor had rarely seen him afraid.

  "It's to preserve that which should be preserved," said Cappi. "Now dig!"

  With little choice, Viktor and Romulus picked up the spades and began. The twins crossed their arms over their bare chests. Belch ground his teeth together, his eye twitching madly. Meanwhile, an argument broke out between Andrei and Rover in Romani.

  Romulus took the opportunity to get Viktor's attention. "You were right," he murmured. "I think they mean to kill us. We're digging our own graves."

  "What should we do?"

  "We dig until the hole is as deep as the shovels, and then I'll light all my Orange Splits and toss them onto ground level. The hole should protect us from the blast."

  "But that could ... kill them," whispered Viktor.

  "Well, we can't fight them hand to hand—you saw what they did to the Masqueraiders."

  Whatever Andrei had said to Rover made him stalk off into the night. Now the boxer turned back to them and demanded they keep digging in silence. The blood brothers consented. The earth of the grassland was soft and rich under their spades, but Viktor was so nervous that his movements felt as sporadic as his irregular heartbeat.

  "Oh, what a noble mind is here, overthrown," said Belch. "In this blessed plot, this earth, this realm."

  Viktor glanced up at the unstable boy. Behind Belch, he saw Andrei and the twins, Cappi and Dukker. An image of all of them lying dead on the ground flashed through his mind; he felt so nauseous he almost collapsed.

  Opposite Viktor, Romulus dug with controlled focus. His hands never shook nor faltered; they handled the spade with cold calculations, as if he had been mining his entire life. Watching him was both reassuring and eerie to Viktor. Their captors must have found Romulus either brave or foolish. An hour passed in this manner, until Dukker spoke: "I'd say that plot's finished. Excellent."

  Cappi nodded in approval. "These lads have done our work for us. We should do every dirty job like this."

  Viktor didn't know how the twins had managed to stand outside shirtless for an hour. Chest deep in the ground, cold sweat clung to his back and the night wind blew against his face. The combination of weather and dread made his very bones shiver.

  "Where's Rover?" Dukker asked Andrei.

  "With Roksana. They'll be here soon with the goods."

  Cappi smirked. "I guarantee they'll blow you Aryk enemies away."

  "That's right," murmured Andrei, "and this pit will be filled with jam—bloody buckets full."

  "Let us leave. Now. I'm warning you," Romulus said.

  "Quiet, you!" cried Belch. "Cowards die many times before their deaths!"

  The blood brothers burned with rage. They exchanged a nod, agreeing the time had come. The Gypsies had condemned themselves. While Viktor shifted to block the boys' view, Romulus crouched down in the grave plot and pretended to adjust his boot. Really he touched together the wicks of three plump Orange Splits. A match ignited the wicks, and Viktor coughed to hide its sizzle.

  "Hey, what've you got there?" Cappi demanded.

  "Your reward," snarled Romulus, rolling the three Orange Splits across the ground in different directions. Viktor was about to duck and cover when movement caught the corner of his eye.

  "Ah, the goods!" exclaimed Dukker, oblivious to the current threat.

  Viktor and Romulus looked sidelong and froze: Across the graveyard, Rover walked next to three girls, each carrying a large basket full of jam jars. In that moment, everything clicked: They had dug a fruit cellar, not a grave plot! This, indeed, was the Gypsies' twisted idea of a joke—but the joke had turned deadly!

  "Run!" Romulus screamed to the Gypsies.

  Yet they stared at him in ignorance, blissfully unaware of the explosions to come.