Chapter XXII
MASLENITSA
The following afternoon, Viktor and Romulus sat in the Den, discussing how deranged and possessed they'd found Nocktayl. The Leopard, on the other hand, had shown a frightening streak of manipulation and violence.
"And the fact that he never showed up in the flesh was more unnerving," Viktor said. "It's just like his legend described him—more ghost than human."
"By the end, Nocktayl was researching magic and sprits—almost as if he was trying to figure the Leopard out," said Romulus.
"Or Nocktayl was just a pawn, another student the Leopard used to gain knowledge in a particular subject before he—"
"Killed them." Romulus spat into the fireplace. "You know, he's still working on those experiments. As a youth, he dissected animals and collected herbs and minerals. Now look—he's mutilating beasts in the castle, growing full-fledged jungles inside the walls. The entire mines are at his disposal."
"Too bad Maksim never shared the Leopard's secret with us. That might've changed everything."
"At least we know where the Silent Deal is hidden."
Viktor's gaze snapped sidelong. "What? Did you read a different journal than me?"
"Don't you remember the last thing Maksim wrote? 'Our hope lies in the House of Cards.' He knew the Silent Deal was hidden there, but he was killed before he could get it!"
"Romulus, the House of Cards might not even be a real place," Viktor groaned.
"Oh, it's a real place alright."
"Yeah? Then where is it?"
"The cavern in the forest. Only three people ever knew about it, and Maksim is dead, and Nocktayl is imprisoned, leaving only the Leopard."
Viktor paused. "So ... find the cavern ... find the Silent Deal?"
"Exactly."
If only it were so simple. True to his word, Romulus never returned to school, instead spending every waking hour searching for the House of Cards, marking off sections of his map of the forest. Between schoolwork and gardening, Viktor helped whenever possible. Yet day after day slipped by without any new leads.
"What clues did my father give us?" Romulus asked Viktor, slinking behind bushes. Across the frozen river, the white brick towers of Staryi Castle stood impenetrable, untouchable, and imposing, like an ever-watching ghost.
"Remember, it's the 'cavern with a secret entrance,' and 'not far from the castle.'"
"But how far did he mean? A hundred meters, a verst, a mile?"
"Who can say?" Viktor replied.
"What about the 'God loves trinity' message you showed me? Maybe the entrance to the House of Cards is marked by three trees or a three o'clock shadow."
"Like our other guesses, they are stretches."
Romulus knew Viktor was right, but that did not lessen his frustration as he unfolded his map to continue scouring the edge of the western forest.
As winter dwindled to an end, Viktor was on edge. They were no closer to finding the House of Cards, and each day at school Miss Dimovna's stare reminded him that Captain Ulfrik still had a promise to make good on. Thankfully Maslenitsa—the weeklong celebration of spring—offered a break from the classroom.
The blood brothers spent the beginning of the week roaming the forest, but the sight of game booths and ice hills pulled them toward the field festivities. Even better, they finally got the chance to talk in depth with Evenova and Charlotta. After a proper apology for the Kissing Tree incident and an update on Maksim's Memoirs, the girls put the past behind them and spent a few blissful days walking, talking, and eating with the two boys they once seemed to dislike.
Revelry unfolded to its full extent on Thursday, and sure enough, the Crossbones Clan was among the entertainers. Andrei boxed, while Cappi and Dukker put on an extraordinary acrobatic routine set to Rover's flute melody. After the shows, Viktor and Romulus got to hear about Kasta Way: With a new guard detail and tighter security, things were not good. Worse, the Gypsies had never heard of the House of Cards, but Rover advised they search out Arseni, who had greater knowledge of the surrounding areas.
They caught the end of Arseni's horse race around Town Square. Countless Russian men drove their brown and white steeds after his dark one, yet Arseni was proof of the Ruska Roma's notorious equestrian skill. He cut to inside lane, hugged against his competitors, and when he turned the Square's final bend, he let slip his secret weapon: The Romani words spurred his horse across the finish line, winning by a full length.
The blood brothers headed toward him, but it was the ambush by the smallest member of the Crossbones Clan that began a terrible chain reaction.
"Uh, Belch ... how are things?" asked Romulus.
"How are things?" mimicked Belch, wiping snot and tears on his shirt. "Life's but a walking shadow!"
Roksana appeared, her dark lips pursed in amusement. "We both tested for a part in this Fonvizin play. I got a part. Belch didn't. Anyways, it's good to see you two. As for you, Belch, there's always tomorrow."
Belch fumed. "To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow, creeps in this petty pace from day to day!"
Viktor hushed him, feeling uneasy. The second half of the play had begun, but now heads were turning toward Belch, who wanted redemption after his boxing match announcing. An actor stumbling over his line was ample opening.
"Speak the speech, I pray you," Belch said, "as I pronounced it to you, trippingly on the tongue!"
Shaken by the jeer, the actor fumbled another line.
"If this were played upon a stage now," Belch cried, "I could condemn it as an improbable fiction!"
"Imbecile," hissed Romulus. "You've given us up."
Belch's big brown eyes lit up as he saw Captain Ulfrik barreling forward through the crowd. He took off in a flash, leaving the blood brothers' necks to be clamped by two giant hands. Noxious smoke poured from Ulfrik's mouth.
"You'll come with me now, boys—Master Molotov's orders."
"Look, look!" Belch was on stage, pointing at Captain Ulfrik and his dog. "Broad breast, full eye, small head, and nostril wide!"
Ulfrik felt the crowd's eyes, so he nodded at his great dog. "Aye, he's a noble beast! Now back to your play, serf."
Belch wagged a finger. "I was not talking about your dog. I continue ... Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide: Look, what a horse should have he does not lack, save a proud saddle on so proud a captain!"
Captain Ulfrik straightened up as a laugh built in the crowd; he had indeed been compared to horse. His hands tightened as he ground his teeth into his fuming cigar.
"Look! The iron bit he crushes between his teeth, controlling what he is controlled with!" Belch beamed as everyone joined in on the laughter. "And it works on two levels—as a horse's bridle but also as a dependence upon tobacco!"
That was the last straw. Abandoning his original intentions, Captain Ulfrik slammed the blood brothers' heads together and dashed at the outspoken Gypsy. Guards closed in. Major Canis crashed through screaming spectators.
"A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!" yelled Belch.
In a daze, Viktor saw Arseni whisper to the black Romani horse; it took off like a rocket toward Belch, who leapt on its back. Great cheers rose from the crowd—though none louder than Belch, who shrieked as Captain Ulfrik dove at him and managed to smother a burning cigar into the Gypsy boy's backside.
Viktor and Romulus didn't dare go back to the festival on Friday or Saturday. They spent the time in the woods, searching for the House of Cards and hoping Belch was alright. On Forgiveness Sunday, Maslenitsa's finale, they watched from afar as a sea of people set fire to the Winter Effigy: The colossal straw scarecrow was said to spread warmth and new life, but Viktor felt neither. His mind-set felt like Aryk's river—frozen with tension long after winter, while beneath the surface, a raging current headed for the falls.
Staring at a moonless sky, Viktor felt the sudden urge to push boundaries. "Let's search Earth's Edge. It's one of the few places we haven't explored."
Ro
mulus yawned, impossible to surprise. "Alright."
"Really ... you want to?"
"Not many places left. It's the waterfall or getting lost in the Great Fairy Ring."
The trip north was serene. Viktor had taken to the cushioning snow and endless evergreens, and though he only had a fraction of Romulus' awareness, his understanding was growing. If only that skill could translate to finding that mysterious cavern ...
"Would we even be able to see the entrance in this darkness?" asked Viktor.
"Sure. The moon might be new, but the stars are enough."
Viktor's footsteps pattered to a stop beside a group of bare elms. He craned his neck at the empty sky, dread creeping over his mind.
Romulus looked back. "What's wrong?"
"It's the second new moon this month ... it's a black moon."
"So?"
"So Captain Ulfrik—that night with the Kissing Tree—he warned Dimovna about nights with rare moons—they bring out whatever creature mangled that poor deer."
Romulus paused. "But that would mean ... it's out tonight."
The boys met eyes. Seconds later, they were whipping past trees. Earth's Edge was close, but they abandoned the location. The Den was their refuge. Wet fronds slapped their legs and face as frozen streams flew past. Viktor barely kept up with Romulus, and when he began to gain on him, it was simply because his blood brother slowed to stop.
Now Viktor heard what Romulus had: Something was moving through the forest—fast. Headed their direction, branches snapped and hooves beat the ground. The boys darted behind a clump of bushes, donning their hoods to mask their faces.
The ground rumbled. Tree limbs shook. A wild bugle sounded like a horn. Into the clearing burst a mammoth elk, but as it bounded into open space, a foreign shadow leapt after it, soaring over the beast but snatching the end of its great antlers so that its neck snapped sideways with a tremendous crack. The elk plummeted on its face, its antlers splintering as it slid across the snowy ferns to a dead stop.
Under the faint twinkle of stars, Viktor saw the shadow for what it was: A man—the man he feared above all others. Bare chested, in dark slacks and boots, was the Leopard, his pale skin stretched tight over his muscles. His evil marks shone under the starlight: The strange symbols and masks, the curling snake and the round domes of a Russian cathedral. As he hunched over his prey like an animal drinking in its kill, the images of the feather, crown, plant, shovel, flask, orb, and leopard rose up the bony vertebrae of his spine.
The foe ran his hands over the grayish-brown elk, feeling down and around its neck mane. Then he lowered his mouth to the muck-splattered fur and, in a horrendous moment, bit into the skin. He clawed the animal open, ripping sinews and tissue in two. Viktor knew what he was searching for even before it was found: Out of the chest cavity came a bloodied heart, which he held up to his eye.
Never before had Viktor felt such revulsion, such illness. He knew what had to be done. So did Romulus, who had drawn two Orange Splits from his pocket. This was the man who had destroyed generations, who had ripped families apart, who, even now, wanted to tear them open just as he'd torn open the elk. He had to be stopped. And they might never have an open shot like this again.
With utmost carefulness, Romulus handed over one of the Orange Splits and struck a match, sparking the two wicks to life. The sizzle was all it took to alert the Leopard. Before Viktor could blink, his enemy was crouched, his eyes peering over the giant carcass that had become his shield. His silver-blond hair shone. His teeth flickered, flashing gold.
Viktor took aim at the glint, cocking his arm back. Yet in that split second, it was strangely Petya's words that flooded his thoughts, the man who sacrificed his life for them so many months ago: "He can't be killed, and don't attempt it! Nothing is worth the price you'll pay...." Still, Viktor followed through.
Whoosh ...
The bomb flew through the air, but the Leopard was much too fast. Like at the boxing match, a twitch of his neck was all it took for him to evade the blow. The Orange Split exploded on a pine tree, flooding the air with needles and an auburn glow. A cackle sounded.
Romulus threw the next bomb nearly straight up, knowing it would be harder to dodge. The Orange Split reached its apex in the sky, but the Leopard made no move to leap to safety. He watched the bomb fall toward him until the last moment, when he swooped his arm down to cradle the projectile's descent and then whipped the live Orange Split back at them.
Viktor leapt sideways; the horizon turned, the force of the blast flipping his feet into the air. With everything red, and ringing ears and falling leaves, it felt as if the whole world was caving in. He was back in his nightmares. Under the brink of his hood, he saw the foe sprint forward, a broken shard of elk antler in hand.
It's the end, he realized. The Leopard will make two more ghosts. And this time, nobody will be left to etch our names into Maksim's Memoirs.
A vicious bark pulled Viktor back to consciousness. A cloudy form burst out of the bushes; it pounced, cleaving a claw across the rib cage of their oncoming foe.
Blizzard!
Blood crept out of the Leopard's side, but his leer said he didn't mind the pain. The snarling wolf guard circled and pounced again, a collision the Leopard met eagerly, dodging rows of razor-sharp teeth to stab his antler knife into the Blizzard's shoulder. The wolf yelped and shrunk back, leaving the Leopard free.
"Run!" Romulus hissed in Viktor's ear as he pulled him up. "Come on, run!"
The blood brothers took off like a shot. Their feet flew, fear driving them faster, but their foe was fastest. He gained on them with every cold, lightning-quick stride.
Viktor's surroundings were a fatal maze. Roots and shrubs became snakes and snares; drooping branches morphed into talons. A stumble was the difference between life and death.
Romulus lit an Orange Split and heaved it at a bog. The Leopard had to cut right to avoid the gallons of falling goop. Blackbirds were lit next, scattered by Romulus as he leapt off a boulder. Viktor bounded forward to escape the toxic fumes, but Romulus grabbed him and veered into a hidden path cut in the trees. For a moment, it seemed they had shaken their tail, yet as the boys sprinted down the length of a gorge, the marked man leapt off the end of a felled tree, swooping over their heads like a nocturnal bird of prey.
Again, it would been the end, but for the shadow that intervened: Blizzard leapt over the gorge—traveling farther and faster than any human could ever hope to—and slammed into the Leopard with such impact that it would have brought any normal man to his knees. But the Leopard refused to go down, recovering and redoubling his speed.
"Where are we going?" gasped Viktor as the trees thinned and a dull roar built.
"To Earth's Edge!" Romulus called.
The mountainous falls pierced Viktor's memory. "You mean to jump?"
"It's the only way!"
Lungs on fire, lactic acid searing his muscles, Viktor knew Romulus was right. They could not outrun, nor outfight, nor out-trick this foe. They could only take a risk he was not willing to. The Leopard seemed to guess their plan, for he ran wickedly fast—even with a wolf snapping at his heels—as soil changed to rock and the trees to shrubs.
Then Viktor spotted it: The ice of the frozen river stopped at the brink of the world; under its surface, frigid water flowed into a free fall. Not breaking a stride, Romulus hefted up a giant rock, took two bounds, and leapt out over the giant cascade. Viktor went airborne behind him, just in time to escape the Leopard, who skidded to a stop, watching the two hooded figures fall.
Viktor had grossly underestimated the size of the drop. From the top of the cliff, it seemed as if all the stars in the sky were watching him fall down ... down ... down ... Beneath him, Romulus plummeted toward the surface, which looked like terrible black glass, and at the last second, he heaved the giant rock downward, breaking the surface tension of the water.
As his friend disappeared in the splash first, Viktor crossed his arms and legs. Immedi
ately pressure slammed him on all sides, the force of the plunge sweeping him in a wide underwater arc. Soon he bobbed up to the surface, sucking in air.
"Climb above the ice," Romulus gasped. "If we go under, it's over."
As the frigid water sent knives into his back, Viktor saw what Romulus meant: The current was sweeping them toward the continuing river, which was still frozen over. Viktor panicked, breaking thin sheets of ice. Finally, he clung his arm around a thicker piece. The current was sweeping his body forward, but he managed to swing his leg over the surface and roll onto the ice, pulling Romulus up behind him.
After crawling onto gravel shores and ducking into the forest, the boys wrung out their clothes and hunched over a pit of embers Romulus had stoked. On such a dark night, the Leopard couldn't have seen them escape the water, but Viktor was still scared out of his wits. The gruesome hunting scene and deathly chase was too much to accept.
"I hope Blizzard is alright," he murmured.
"He'll be fine," Romulus said, drawing from his pocket a cloth-wrapped king of spades card. "Good. Still dry."
Viktor searched his own pockets. "Blast it. My Brass Art notes are soaked. I was going to show you—I've been writing down all the phrases I can remember from the alleyway."
"Well, my map is equally ruined." Romulus glared at the charcoal that had bled all over his chart of the forest, blotting out even the empty swirls of the Great Fairy Ring. "All that time marking territories—useless."
Viktor turned back to his Brass Art messages, trying to make out the blurred words. "'Show your true colors' ... 'Shadow the vines' ... 'Cards alone know the way to their house.'"
"What was that?" cut in Romulus.
"We read the message long ago ... 'Cards alone know the way to their house.'"
"The House of Cards—I knew it was a real place!" Romulus said. But what does it mean, 'cards know'? How can playing cards know anything?"
Once again, Viktor examined Romulus' card: The stately king of spades gazed at him from the front; the back showed snaking vines wrapping around a flower.
"Romulus, why did the Leopard hire Kamdrac to make the cards?"
"Remember, the vine mural: He wanted that exact print on the cards. He needed someone with enough skill to do it properly."
Viktor nodded. "Infinite detail—something impossible to replicate: But isn't it odd that he would have Molotov destroy every one of those very cards?"
"But my father still got ahold of one."
"Exactly!" said Viktor. "He got his hands on a physical card, and then he discovered the secret of the cards. Now the Leopard is searching for the lost card again, because he doesn't want anyone to have a physical card. And I can think of only one explanation: What if the cards themselves hold the secret?"
Romulus stared dumbstruck at the king of spades card. "'Cards alone know the way to their house' ... 'Shadow the vines' ... It means follow the vines! The mural—it's a map! Isn't it?"
"I think so ... which would make the flower growing in the center of the vines—"
"The House of Cards."
For a moment, Viktor was content to enjoy the silent awe of their discovery. But suddenly his face fell. "Wait—this is no good. Even if this is a map, the area isn't defined. It could be the whole forest. It could be all of Aryk! The House of Cards could be anywhere."
"But," Romulus interrupted, "Kamdrac said that the Leopard claimed to know the forest better than anyone. And if he needed a map, then it would be the map of an area that was nearly impossible to navigate—the same area on my map that I was never able to fill in."
Mesmerized, Viktor gaped from the blotched swirls on Romulus' chart to the vines on the card's back. "It's a map to the Great Fairy Ring."
Romulus smiled slyly. "Care to ditch Dimovna tomorrow?"
Viktor nodded. Find the House of Cards, find the Silent Deal.