The Silent Deal: The Card Game, Book 1

  Chapter VIII

  THE SEARCH BEGINS

  Shock must have registered on Viktor's face, because Romulus was quick to ask, "What's wrong? What does it say?"

  Viktor's voice shook as he read:

  "'Ogafia Dimovna,'

  "'The king of spades card resurfaced. A Faithful Son may be on the move. The Mummer's Dance was inconclusive. Information is of great value to us, so be wary of any criminal talk. If you notice any suspicious behavior among your students, notify me immediately. Whether elder or youth, death awaits this lawbreaker. Gallows come next.'

  "'Captain Ulfrik, loyal servant of the Leopard.'"

  The boys shared a dark glance, both coming to the same conclusions: Their teacher was a spy of the enemy, and if this letter had fallen into her hands, it would've resulted in their deaths.

  For a long week, Viktor and Romulus didn't dare interview their classmates or draw any sort of attention to themselves. They even kept their distance from each other during classroom hours, worrying that Dimovna might learn of their friendship. Their afternoons, however, were spent in the forest, each boy teaching the other in subjects unversed.

  True to his word, Romulus began to reveal secrets of the forest to Viktor, and very early on, it became clear that his knowledge of the woods was not a collection of facts but rather a rounded mastery, an understanding that prepared him for any situation and allowed him to recognize that which was significant.

  "Take that sap for instance," Romulus said, pointing to the orange ooze that leaked out of the heart carved in Mother's Kissing Tree.

  Viktor gazed at the oak from the edge of the tree line. "What of it?"

  "Well, seeing sap means that the weather's been warm for a while, and dried sap means that the weather was warmer earlier, but either way, it changes the actions of the animals in the forest. See, if it's mid-autumn and animals sense a warm weather pattern, they'll be bold to go after food.

  "Foxes, badgers, polecats, and pine martens are prowling for rodents, insects, grasses. It's a great time to hunt game, but you've got to be careful. Snakes are underfoot. Birds will chirp your position to the whole forest. And all those plump animals bring out the forest heavyweights—elk, wolves and wolverines, lynxes, and even Siberian tigers. Those animals could feed you for months, but you could feed them for days, so you better make sure you've gotten it the right way around."

  Viktor shivered. "Say, where's Blizzard?"

  "You saw the sap."

  Often Romulus quizzed Viktor until he learned to identify different plants and their uses, from Norway spruce to Scots pine to the shiny white trunk and brilliant green leaves of the silver birch. Viktor even began to roll the Siberian fir's needle-leaves in his hands and then pat his neck, for Romulus confided that nobles paid a fortune for the same bottle of cologne.

  "What clovers are we walking on?" asked Romulus one afternoon.

  "Zigzag and dropwort," said Viktor, recalling a lesson.

  Romulus pointed to an overhanging tree. "And that?"

  "Everyone knows that's a willow. It's one of the few plants you don't have to teach me about."

  "So I guess you knew that its boiled leaves and bark cures headaches, and its wood bends into just about anything?"

  "Uh ... Yeah... Yes."

  Romulus chucked. "You're a terrible liar. Anyways, chairs, baskets, fish traps, wicker, rope, arrows: It can all be made by willow, and if you're going hungry, you can cook the catkins—the spindly green pods—into mush and eat it."

  "Right," Viktor muttered, embarrassed at his transparent bluff.

  Yet as Viktor fulfilled his side of the deal and helped his friend learn to read, it was Romulus' turn to feel foolish. Though he rushed to learn the Russian alphabet with the focus he applied to all things, it took him countless hours of solitary study to begin reading basic words. Viktor gave him the only book he owned—an old copy of Aesop's Fables. Romulus butchered many a story, but after Viktor reread them clearly, he was always left enamored by how clever their plots were. It pushed him to study harder.

  On the day before the blood brothers began to interview their classmates for information, Romulus managed to read perfectly his favorite story, "The Dog and His Reflection," aloud to Viktor:

  "'A dog, to whom the butcher had thrown a bone, was hurrying home with his prize as fast as he could go. As he crossed a narrow footbridge, he happened to look down and saw himself reflected in the quiet water as if in a mirror. But the greedy dog thought he saw a real dog carrying a bone much bigger than his own. If he had stopped to think, he would have known better. But instead of thinking, he dropped his bone and sprang at the dog in the river, only to find himself swimming for dear life to reach the shore. At last, he managed to scramble out, and as he stood sadly thinking about the good bone he had lost, he realized what a foolish dog he had been.'"

  For a long minute, the two boys watched the fog drift through the trees effortlessly. The whole forest seemed to have fallen silent to listen to the story about greed and foolishness and appetite.

  Unfortunately their classmates were much harder to read than fables. Each new day, the blood brothers began talking to different students, trying to work the names "R.E. Kamdrac" or "Silent Deal" into the conversation. Viktor's job was to select only those who were trustworthy. Romulus need only to stand there and look interesting, for after standing up to Dimovna, his popularity had taken a swift upturn.

  And yet things were not going well. Ollyver knew nothing and warned Viktor to abandon whatever odd search he was on. Sofia and Narkissa turned the conversation around, ignoring Viktor's persistence and bombarding Romulus with personal questions. The interview with Uri was equally useless. The warm-up dialogue alone made the squat boy squeamish, and by the time Romulus patted him on the shoulder and asked him about Kamdrac, Uri fainted from his brush with fame. By stealing Dimovna's letter, the blood brothers had temporarily dodged a bullet, but there was no telling how long that protection would last.

  "Who's left on the list?" Romulus asked a few days later.

  "Let's see," Viktor murmured. "Mikhail still thinks you're a vampyre or the son of the Leshy, so he's crossed off."

  Romulus snorted.

  "And Stefan had no records of Kamdrac in his gambling books, so he's crossed off. That trader Sevastian said he knew R.E. Kamdrac, but after you gave him some bear meat, he fled. Modest is too much of a suck-up for us to trust him, and obviously we can't ask the Spektor brothers. That leaves us with Evenova and Charlotta, who may or may not hate your guts. Besides them, there's only the students I don't know well enough to ask and ones I know well enough not to ask."

  "Well, I don't want to talk to Evenova," snapped Romulus, no doubt recalling how she'd told him to "disappear" that first day of school.

  "Give the girls a break. Their lives aren't easy either."

  Romulus arched his eyebrows, waiting for an explanation.

  Viktor sighed. "Look, Evenova's father died in the mines when she was a baby, and now her mother's practically a nervous wreck. I feel even worse for Charlotta. Her father's harmless but a drunk. And her mother ... well, she might as well not be there at all."

  "Maybe that explains why Evenova's so controlling," growled Romulus.

  "And why Charlotta's so quiet," Viktor said. "I've heard most of their family problems started around the time they were born. Lots of serfs here can't seem to provide for their children. Maybe that's why there's hardly anyone our age in Aryk."

  Romulus thought quietly on this for a while.

  Viktor spent most of the weekend catching up on chores. During meals, his father and mother exchanging many knowing looks, and Grandpap muttered angry proverbs at his black bread. Everyone had been in a sullen state since Petya died. Still, nights were the worst for Viktor. In his dreams of the Brass Art alleyway, a spotted leopard had begun to stalk behind him, reminding him each morning as he awoke in cold sweat that the clock was ticking.

  By Monday, Viktor convinced Romulus to rea
ch out to their only lifeline left, yet it was with a black mood that the boy of the forest helped to stop Evenova and Charlotta on their way home.

  "Well?" Evenova demanded.

  Romulus stood there without saying anything.

  "Hi," Viktor sputtered, feeling stupid.

  Charlotta laughed. "Uh, hi."

  "Are you two bothering us for no reason?" Evenova asked, tilting her autumn curls.

  "We wanted to ask you a few questions," Viktor said.

  "And I think a long overdue apology is in order," snapped Romulus.

  Evenova crossed her arms. "So you're finally sorry for nearly killing Boris?"

  "No, Boris got exactly what he deserved," Romulus said. "It's you who should apologize."

  "You scoundrel."

  "Dandiprat."

  "Urchin!"

  "Miscreant!"

  "Just shut it!" roared Viktor. He sighed and met Charlotta's indigo gaze, both embarrassed by their friends' bickering. "Thanks. Now—have you ever heard of R.E. Kamdrac or a Silent Deal?"

  The girls shook their heads indifferently.

  "Fine, one more thing—and this is important," said Viktor. "Have you told anyone, anyone at all, about Romulus' ... playing card?"

  Charlotta's mouth opened with indignation. "Cards—that's what this is about?"

  "So you haven't said anything?"

  "Obviously not, but—"

  "I can't believe this!" Evenova said. "Are you two mad or is this your desperate cry for attention?"

  "Actually," Romulus said, "we feel guilty for the recent death of the miner, Petya; I'm trying to find out what happened to my parents; Viktor is trying to justify a hanging he witnessed as a child; and someone called the Leopard is hunting us down—hunting my card down."

  Viktor choked, glaring at Romulus. Charlotta twisted her fair hair to still her nerves.

  "You're a good liar," said Evenova.

  "If we were in danger, wouldn't you help us?" Romulus asked.

  "Sure, but it doesn't matter. We know nothing about the cards," Evenova said. She was ready to leave, but Charlotta hesitated.

  "Wait ... I know a place where you might find cards. You'd have to cross Aryk's boundaries, and I don't advise going there, but if it's your only option ..."

  Romulus looked like Blizzard at mealtime. "Where?"

  "Can you think of no place where fighting, drinking, and gambling go hand in hand?"

  Viktor knitted his dark eyebrows. "You can't mean ..."

  Charlotta nodded. "Kasta Way."

  "Kasta Way doesn't exist," Romulus groaned.

  "It does too," Evenova said. "The Ruska Roma dwell there."

  "The Southeastern Steppes?" Romulus said. "No, I've been there. It's empty grasslands as far as the eye can see. Not a Gypsy in sight."

  "The Ruska Roma are bound to vanish for periods of time. They're travelers. It's in their blood." A shadow crossed over Charlotta's face. "Sometimes my father disappears there for months and comes back a drunk, beaten mess. I've seen the dangers of Kasta Way. Don't go unless you're desperate."

  "Desperate," mused Romulus, rolling the word around in his mouth. "Yeah, that sounds about right."

  "Then plan on being robbed blind by the Ruska Roma," said Evenova. "And good luck getting out."

  Viktor ground his teeth. "The Xaladikta Roma."

  Charlotta nodded. "The Gypsy soldiers."

  On a dark and cloudy Friday afternoon, two silhouettes strode across the Southeastern Steppes. The sloping grasslands were covered in frozen zigzag clovers that crunched underfoot. In a few weeks, their bright green would be smothered in a white snow blanket, as would the rest of Aryk.

  "Are you sure you know where we're going?" Viktor asked.

  Romulus shook his head. "I don't know where Kasta Way is. How could I know where we're going?"

  "That makes me feel better," Viktor muttered, kicking a frozen flower.

  "Look, these steppes go for a long ways, and we've got to crisscross so as not to miss anything."

  "We should've brought Blizzard. If Ruska Roma women wear as much perfume as they're rumored to, the wolf could lead us there blindfolded."

  "Nothing wears out your welcome faster than a wolf. Besides, we don't have anything with Gypsy scent on it. If we can't find Kasta Way, it's our own fault."

  "We might be lucky to miss it," Viktor said, half under his breath.

  Romulus shot him a dark look.

  "What?" Viktor said. "Haven't you heard the stories?"

  "My grandmother wouldn't tell me my parents' names. Do you think she'd tell me about a long-lost Gypsy village?"

  "My parents didn't tell me, either—everything is secret with them. 'Course, that didn't stop Mikhail from spilling his superstitious guts."

  "What did he say?" Romulus asked, sidestepping a mud puddle.

  "Enough to make me never want to go to Kasta Way."

  "How so?"

  "Ever heard the saying, 'One hangs the thief who stole three kopecks, and honors the one who stole fifty'?"

  "No."

  "Well, that's the nature of Kasta Way," said Viktor. "Gypsies there live by that code."

  Romulus bit his cheek. "If we do find this place, let's swear not to gamble."

  "Deal."

  At the top of yet another rolling hill, Viktor bent down and picked off a handful of black crowberries from a dying plant, sinking his teeth into them. Romulus stood tall and surveyed the endless grasslands. For three hours, he had led Viktor back and forth across the steppes, insisting on his method.

  "We'll have to turn back before nightfall," Viktor said.

  Romulus sniffed the air.

  "What wrong?" asked Viktor, seeing his body go rigid.

  "Smoke—can you smell it?"

  Viktor took a deep breath and tasted traces of it in the air. He broke out into a smile. "Bonfires!"

  Romulus nodded. "If that doesn't spell 'Gypsy,' I don't know what does."

  They set off with renewed vigor. Following their noses, they jogged up a long, slow knoll. Music and shouts drifted over the hill, and the air took on a musky fragrance, a mixture of spices and smoke. As the crest of the hill loomed closer, they crouched down, crept forward, and looked over the ridge, falling silent. A shock ran through Viktor; Romulus' eyes lit up in amazement.

  Beyond the knoll, a sloped valley turned into a gentle plain, which was covered in a dazzling array of shelters and bonfires. There were tents upon tents, all multicolored and original. Some were small and simple, and others were linked in grandiose arrangements. The hodgepodge of shelters had no order or direction; it was all chaos. One long pathway ran through the middle of the settlement and broke off into countless crooked routes, along which bonfires blazed. The pits burst into brilliant shades of greens, blues, pinks, and yellows, flickering in the sunset like a horde of rainbow fireflies. It was a fantastical village far beyond anything the blood brothers had imagined.