Chapter XXIII
THE GREAT FAIRY RING
The next morning, Viktor's mother was in a good mood. Vassi was finally returning to the mines after recovering from his whipping, so she dished out extra helpings. "Well, Viktor, did you enjoy Maslenitsa? I heard you spent time with some girls from school."
Viktor flushed a bit. "Yeah, Evenova and Charlotta."
His father cleared his throat. "Kira's daughter? And Charlotta Jaskova?"
"Yes."
"Jaska is as drunk as a skunk half the day," muttered Grandpap.
"And Kira Inshova's in no better state of mind, but it's not all their fault ..." Viktor's father trailed off as he met eyes with Starsha, who sniffed and sped out of the room. "Viktor, don't cause trouble for those girls. And don't miss that school bell."
Obviously dismissed, Viktor headed to the Den, wondering what had caused so many problems in his parents' generation. Something had to have happened to them collectively, he decided, something that went deep, something that broke everyone but the strongest ...
Inside the Den, Romulus explained the logistics of the Great Fairy Ring, including what dangers they might find in the maze. He'd also packed provisions and defensive weapons, but that didn't comfort Viktor as they jogged through the forest. The unnaturalness of the Leopard had left a strange, evil shadow amidst the trees. Viktor wished Blizzard was with them, but currently the heroic wolf was back at the Den, nursing his wounds.
Drawing up to a gap in ten-foot-high bushes, Romulus examined his king of spades. "Alright, this is the southern entrance. Supposedly it's got never-ending paths, so we'll have to follow the card closely."
"Don't you have a compass?" Viktor said.
"They're no good in the maze. You have to follow the paths, and if you try to head only in one direction, then you'll never escape. It's even deadlier to try to force your way through the thick bushes: Their leaves and sap will inflame your skin."
"But we still need to know what part of the card marks north," Viktor said.
"Hmm. I assumed the top of the card marked north, but now that I think about it, maybe there's some type of compass rose—" Romulus stopped and chuckled. "Oh, that's clever."
"What?"
"Viktor, the compass rose. The flower growing in the vines doesn't just mark the House of Cards—it's the map's compass, and since it grows upward at a left slant, the top left edge of the card points north, which makes sense, because the maze has a sort of diamond shape."
Viktor peered at the card. "Alright, but where is the southern entrance on the map? There are tons of openings between the leaves at the bottom of the card. So why haven't we seen more entryways?"
"Huh." Romulus stared for long minutes and suddenly snapped his fingers. "Of course—it's all backward! 'Shadow the vines.' The vines are the passages, not the hedges. The hedges are actually the blank space on the card."
"So all we have to do is trace the flower's vine back to one of the starting points."
Romulus was already running his finger around the various paths. A backward maze was no maze at all. "Ah, clever again. The southeastern entrance holds the only route to the House of Cards. It's the one your horse nearly bolted into."
Viktor wasn't eager to return to the spot, but a brisk jog left him staring at the pool of quicksand that rested in a gap between great bushes.
"Quick steps," Romulus advised, flying over first.
Viktor watched the ripples spread over the sand like a dark, too dense pond. Then he, too, darted across.
With three overgrown paths to choose from, Romulus consulted his card. "Alright, take the middle."
Just a few turns into the Great Fairy Ring, Viktor began to understand how easy it was to become bewildered in such a place. With unnaturally thick air and melted snow, spiny bushes had grown thick and hardy. The path split again and again; even with the card, Romulus struggled to keep proper bearing.
Deeper in the maze, the hedges became wilder, sometimes morphing together overhead, forming long tunnel-like passages. Fungus, worms, and beetles spawned in the dark places, corrupting all that was living. And the farther they went, the more Viktor found himself doubting the card. It seemed as if they were walking in circles, not heading closer to their destination.
"That's the maze talking," replied Romulus when Viktor voiced his thoughts. "That's its trick: To make you think the opposite. But always the least probable path proves itself as the proper one.
Viktor's shoulders fell. "Then what about all the probable paths you're declaring improbable—shouldn't they be the most proper?"
"Are you trying to drive me mad? We're in the Great Fairy Ring!" Romulus hissed. "Now is not the time to confuse me."
Left and right, back and forth—the labyrinth continued until the boys took a final turn, breaking through a thicket into a grass clearing. But there was one problem.
"There is no House of Cards," Viktor murmured, for the clearing was empty, save a fairy ring—a circle of toadstools spanning nearly ten feet in diameter.
"Is this the Leopard's idea of a hideout?" scoffed Romulus. "A fairy ring—a portal to a fictional world?"
"Maybe it's a trap. Arseni said if you set foot in a fairy ring, you die an early death."
Romulus snorted and picked up a heavy stone, heaving it into the circle's center.
THUD!
"It's hollow," Romulus said, couching down and feeling around in the grass. A triumphant look crossed his face as his fingers closed around a metal ring. "A trapdoor—it's an entrance to another world after all."
Viktor trembled, fearful that a fight might come. Yet as Romulus slowly pulled the square trapdoor up, creaking hinges, ripping grass, and countless silver spiderwebs foretold that the door hadn't been opened for ages. Stale air floated up, smelling of ink and parchment and ... gunpowder? Beyond a few wooden stairs, nothing was visible.
Perhaps to combat his fear, Viktor seized the initiative and descended first. All was well until a dozen feet down—he slipped on a stair and plummeted into darkness. For a terrible instant, he thought he might fall into an endless chasm, but a split second later, he smacked the hard floor.
"Viktor?"
"I'm fine." His eyes began to adjust to the darkness. "But Romulus ... this isn't the Leopard's cave."
"What? Why not?"
"Because ... it's a house."
A few minutes of lighting oil lanterns proved that the House of Cards was actually, in fact, a hall. Framed with logs, furnished with tables, and decorated with animal skins and shelves bearing loads of parchment, fabric, and flagons, the place was like some kind of ancient common room. But there was something strange about the way old papers lay open ... how quills rested in half-full bottles of ink ...
"It's like this place was abandoned years ago," murmured Viktor.
"It was," declared Romulus, his voice echoing as he moved deeper into the room. "At the Parlor, Zindelo said the House of Cards fell a decade ago. This must have been the Leopard's old headquarters."
Then where is the Leopard's cave? Viktor wondered. But he gave up the thought when a sheet of parchment caught his attention. "So that's how he did it ..."
"Did what?"
"Well, remember how the Leopard terrorized all the owners of Aryk? Everyone thought he was a ghost, but really he had studied these maps of Staryi Castle!" Viktor bent over the parchment. "I mean, just look at this detail: Multiple floors, staircases, doorways. I'll bet you he included secret passages, too."
"Viktor."
The urgent tone made Viktor look up in alarm: Behind a curtain pinned over a doorway, Romulus' silhouette was surrounded by the shadows of several other men. Viktor's eyes widened. This was a trap after all, but he wouldn't go down without a fight. Knife in hand, he ripped open the curtain and sprang toward the enemies.
Romulus raised an eyebrow. "You alright?"
Viktor flushed upon realizing that the silhouettes were no more than wooden manikins holding tough, leather armor—from br
eastplates and cuirasses to helmets and gauntlets. His relief was short-lived, though, because of his next realization: This was an armory.
Muskets with iron bayonets, blunderbusses and dragoons with wide steel barrels, flintlock pistols and rifles with polished maple stocks: So many firearms were mounted on the walls that it was hard to see the wood. More numerous still were swords. Thin rapiers, Russian shashkas, French briquet sabers, and heavy cavalry backswords were piled in heaps by barrels of gunpowder.
"I don't understand. Why would the Leopard ever have need for this?" Viktor asked.
"He wouldn't," Romulus said, picking up a curved Russian shashka and resting it across his shoulder. "Not unless some ambitious landlord of Aryk tried to challenge his authority. Wait ... Didn't Zindelo say Master Molotov tried to destroy all the cards, tried to get rid of criminals?"
"Yeah—under the Leopard's orders."
"No ... I think at first he tried to fight off the Leopard's power. And I think I know why he failed. All those criminals that flocked to the cards—I don't think they ever left Aryk. I think the Leopard made an army out of them."
Viktor's neck prickled. "The Masqueraiders—they were the miners, soldiers, gamblers, and recruiters Zindelo spoke of—the criminals!"
"Somehow the Leopard organized them here, armed them." Romulus examined the Russian blade for a moment and then tossed it back into a pile.
"And he gave them cards that mapped the way to his headquarters," Viktor said. "That's why he had Kamdrac make the card deck so staggered—there were many low cards, but only a few face cards! The cards were a system of ranks!"
"You're right, but when Molotov destroyed all the cards, he unknowingly cut the Leopard and his Masqueraiders off from their base! That's why this place is abandoned. The Leopard can't get back here: All the maps are lost, and my father stole his last king card! That's why he's hunting us down—it's obvious why he wants to return."
"Hold on, if the Leopard built this place, surely he could find his way back without a map."
"Oh, yeah? Then name the first three turns."
"Easy, you just ..." Viktor stopped, realizing that without the card map, the maze was just a colossal shadow in his mind. "Alright, fine, but if the Leopard was cut off from his weapons and resources, how did he overcome Molotov?"
"He must've shown the strength of his army with something bold or threatening or—"
"Brass!" cut in Viktor. "Brass Art: It was the Masqueraiders' scare tactic, an extension of the Leopard's tattoos! And Molotov banned the graffiti, but it was no use. Think of how fast the panic must have spread—even Molotov cracked. That's why this whole town is afraid to talk about cards and Brass Art. It's the marks of the Leopard!"
Romulus sunk to the floor, running a hand through his dirty blond mane. "And all this time I had a hunch the cards might help us ... but no, my father had no part with them. He only got in the way of an evil man ..."
"Romulus," said Viktor slowly, "a moment ago—why did you say it was obvious that the Leopard wants to return here?"
"This is the Leopard's headquarters," he answered pointedly. "There's enough evidence against the Leopard to put him away for life. Don't you know what's out there, right now, buried among those piles of endless scrolls?"
Viktor's jaw dropped. Even if they hadn't found the Leopard's cave, they'd still found the hiding place of the Silent Deal.