Chapter XXV
THE PLAN
Kasta Way looked smaller than usual. During the winter months, many of the Gypsies had traveled south in search of warmer weather—a migration the Leopard must have been aware of, for he left but a few guards to patrol the region. And while Viktor took in the bright green clovers and dazzling wildflowers of spring, Romulus had eyes only for potential danger, scanning the colorful Southeastern Steppes as they moved from tent to tent.
Thankfully the trip to the graveyard proved uneventful. The Crossbones Clan happily ushered them into the Doghouse, their dilapidated headquarters, and an hour later, the group sat in a fabric-strewn circle, having finished listening to the blood brothers' dilemma.
"Excellent! We're in," said Dukker immediately.
Cappi nodded excitedly alongside his twin. "Yeah, we've talked about raiding the Grobnitsa Castle for years!"
"No, we're just searching Grobnitsa for the Silent Deal," Viktor said, using the castle's old Gypsy name. "But we need your knowledge."
Rover shook his head with disapproval. "Breaking into the castle is impossible. The twins are just jealous they've never been invited to perform acrobatics there."
"Quiet!" Dukker said. "Before I shove your flute through the hole in your head."
"Who here has performed in the castle?" asked Viktor.
Rover raised a hand, as did Roksana and her dancer friends, Lala and Camelia.
"I've often juggled there," said Arseni hesitantly. "And Rover's right—it's a dangerous game, sneaking into Staryi Castle. You'd have to be a performer to even have a shot."
"Which is why you've got to teach us a skill—just to fool the gate guards. From there, we've got this map," Romulus said, rolling open the castle blueprints from the House of Cards. "Since most of this isn't labeled, we need your help identifying rooms, guard routes, and exits. Any details you remember might save our lives."
Andrei had been quiet for some time. Now the boxer spoke: "So you want to go into the castle ... without even knowing where the Silent Deal is hidden?"
"We don't have a choice," Romulus answered. "Every minute, the Leopard is getting closer to completing the weapon he's building in the castle. Meanwhile, he'll find Viktor and me ... and finish us."
For a moment, the Crossbones Clan dwelled on the future; then chaos broke out.
"Lala, Camelia, and I will start the map!" said Roksana, snatching up the parchment.
Dukker clapped. "Who wants to ride to Grobnitsa and snoop around with Cappi and me?"
"You'll need some security," said Andrei, cracking his white knuckles.
Rover turned to the blood brothers. "Which of you wants to learn music?"
"Because the other one gets burned," said Arseni, grabbing juggling balls.
Suddenly the door burst open: Belch waddled in. "What the Dickens?"
Andrei and Arseni exchanged a look. They picked up the obnoxious actor, pushed him out the door, and swung the lock shut—all while Belch rattled off a list of threats.
"Is he alright?" asked Viktor. "You know, after Ulfrik ..."
"Cooked his pants with that cigar?" A smile flickered on Roksana's face. "He's healing. I tried to help, but Pumpkin Patches can't just be applied anywhere."
Arseni shrugged. "Look, I know you think we're being harsh, but his big mouth will compromise this entire plan. You just wait."
In the following days, Viktor shared Belch's pain, just not in the same location. While Rover taught Romulus the flute, Viktor's dry skin gained an assortment of new burns. Apparently Arseni's idea of fire-juggling revolved around "learning by experience," and his encouragement didn't help: 'At this rate, you'll be fire-eating before you know it!'
After sessions, Roksana would apply Pumpkin Patches to Viktor's blistering skin. The combination of her dark, intoxicating features and the soothing salve made post-practice the favorite part of his day. When she offered to treat Belch also, he left in a defensive fit.
"I am healed by another sweet, sweet, sweet nurse! I have seen a medicine that's able to breathe life into a stone! She is too fair, too wise, too wisely fair!"
"So he's finally fallen in love with himself," Roksana said.
"Do you think he really met someone?" asked Viktor.
Roksana blew cool air on his burned shoulder to dry the salve. "Do you think this is the first time he's invented imaginary lovers?"
Romulus paced back and forth in the Doghouse. "So when you're invited to the castle, a servant sends word to Kasta Way."
Arseni nodded. "But sometimes nobody knows I've been sent for. That happens when Sergeant Bogatir—Ulfrik's third in command—calls for me in one of his drunken rages."
"Which gives us our in," said Viktor. "Romulus and I will show up at the gate with Arseni as a familiar face. Once we're inside the castle, we've got to break off from the guards by stealth or force. Then Arseni can leave with a fake burn Roksana painted on his arm."
"I'll be a lookout or a guide, but I won't be a deserter," said Arseni.
"No," Romulus insisted. "Nobody else can go. It has to be us."
Andrei and Arseni were sullen. Cappi and Dukker, however, exchanged a wink, which made Viktor all the more nervous that the twins might not stick to the original plan.
Within a week, Viktor had a simple grasp on three-ball juggling, fire and all, and Romulus could pipe a few Russian, English, and Irish tunes on a flute. Their knowledge was nowhere near that of their Gypsy teachers, but with enough skill to trick the guards into believing them performers, it was time to focus on schematics.
Much of the beginning sessions were spent memorizing information. Andrei, Dukker, and Cappi had spent a week studying the castle's exterior and the changing of guards. Meanwhile, Roksana, Lala, and Camelia had compounded their memories to form a layout of the inside of the castle, with Arseni and Rover also contributing. So although Viktor was skipping school, his mind was working harder than ever to suck up endless facts. Yet the size of the castle had him overwhelmed: The hiding places for the Silent Deal seemed endless.
"We have one strong clue," Romulus said. "We know the contract is hidden high in the castle—most likely a tower tough to get to."
"So there are seven towers ..." started Dukker.
"But four of those are really turrets for defense—the Leopard wouldn't hide anything important there," Cappi said.
"Yeah, the three main towers are more likely. They're the ones attached to the main keep," Dukker said. "Now one tower has original white stones, but the western two—the ones built right up against Aryk's river—have bits of gray in the rock."
"Which means?" Viktor asked.
"It means the western section is an addition," said Romulus. "In my father's journal, he wrote that the Leopard was expanding the castle."
Andrei nodded. "Which explains why the western half of this map is crude at best. However, inside the new western wall, we believe there might be ... a body of water."
Viktor, Romulus, and the rest of the Gypsies looked puzzled.
"It's the reflections," the twins said synchronously.
"Yeah, we three saw it," said Andrei. "At just the right time, when the sun breaks through the clouds before sunset, the new towers, well, they glow."
The date was set: April 29, merely two weeks away. The date gave the boys a one-week buffer before Miss Dimovna would turn in her disciplinary reviews, but more importantly, it was the night of the rare Paschal moon. If all went to plan, the Leopard would be hunting in the forest on such a night; thus, when anarchy erupted, Staryi Castle would be missing its most dangerous leader.
Yet the air in the Doghouse was thick. Roksana, Lala, and Camelia spent hours grilling Arseni and the blood brothers on the castle layout. Romulus never missed answers, but when the others mixed up stairwells with stairways and kitchens with kitchenettes, he shot them uncharacteristically dark looks.
The Gypsies, too, were tense, breaking out into arguments over the pettiest offenses. In fact, the only person
not upset was the one who should have been: Belch walked around in a dream, droning on about sunshine, the moon, and his lady's beauty. He didn't even mind being kicked out of the Doghouse during discussions.
"Journeys end in lovers meeting!"
"We all know you're bluffing," Andrei said dryly.
If Viktor's relationship with the Crossbones Clan was being strained, it was nothing in comparison to his family life. His mother fretted over his sleeplessness and lack of appetite, Grandpap sputtered out endless proverbs, and Vassi, perhaps best at reading Viktor, evaluated his son silently, prodding at what was wrong.
April twenty-ninth, Viktor thought. Hold your tongue until then, and everything will be resolved. You'll either have the Silent Deal or ... He stopped there.
On one of the final days before the deadline, Viktor skipped school and went to the Doghouse. Andrei and the twins were deep in discussion, so Viktor went into the adjoining room to sit with Romulus and Arseni.
"Viktor, I've figured it out—I know where it is!" hissed the fire-juggler.
Viktor's chest swelled. "The Silent Deal?"
"Oh ... no, you're still on your own with that, but remember I once told you I saw a door in the castle that opens into a jungle? Well, I think it's here, in this long hallway!" said Arseni, pointing down at the map. "If you're pursued, it might be a good hiding spot."
Hunger crept into Romulus' eyes. "Better yet, we might get a look at the Leopard's experiments."
Viktor was less than reassured. As a boy, the Leopard had created a devilish cave full of horrors—so with power and resources, what was his adult version capable of? And even if the blood brothers did successfully break into the castle, how on earth would they find the one document that the Leopard wanted kept secret?
On the eve of their plan, Viktor and Romulus spent the morning in the Den, packing shoulder-slung bags for their trip into the castle. On the tops sat juggling balls and matches—or in Romulus' case, flutes and cleaning rods—yet beneath the items rested all the defensive weapons they had created during the year, whether Orange Splits and Blackbirds or Bur Bombs and Fire Wire.
"You know, there are real weapons in the House of Cards," Romulus said.
Viktor shook his head. "No guns and swords. Besides, this way, if the guards search our things, they'll think our creations are just gimmick items."
The afternoon was spent in the Doghouse, where the wide-eyed Gypsies buzzed with anticipation, wishing their Aryk-angel friends good luck. Belch noticed a change in the atmosphere, and he leapt up on a stool to address the moment.
"My friends," he proclaimed. "Tell me your counsels. I will not disclose them. I have made strong proof of my constancy, giving myself a voluntary wound here, in the thigh: Can I bear that with patience, and not my friends' secrets?"
"Voluntary wound, my backside," snorted Cappi.
"Or rather, your backside, Belch," added Dukker.
Cappi grinned. "That one burned like a cigar butt."
Belch flushed red. "Thou hast the most unsavory similes!"
"We're just trying to light a fire under you," said Dukker.
"Stop it, you two!" Roksana snapped. "Can't you see you're upsetting him?"
"You stop," Cappi told his sister, "or you'll brand him a coward."
While Belch began to scream about lovers' meetings and how his lady's eyes were raven black, Andrei and Arseni exchanged a nod, lifted him off the stool, and tossed him outside.
Romulus tilted his head with a thought. "Do you think he's talking about—"
"Belch is just an actor," Arseni cut in. "And a bad one at that."
Viktor and Romulus left late in the afternoon, saying farewells and promising to meet up once more tomorrow to go over final plans.
"Do you want to ride the horses back to Aryk?" asked Arseni.
"No, save their energy for tomorrow night," Romulus said. "Though not close, Perm is the nearest city with government officials—the only people who can sentence the Leopard for his crimes. So when we find the Silent Deal, the evidence has to go on a long journey."
IF we find the Silent Deal, Viktor corrected. And that's a very big IF.
That night at dinner, all Viktor could think about was that the course of his year was heading toward one immense cliff. So shaky that he could barely get soup to his mouth, his father invited him to talk outside after the meal. For long minutes, father and son stood under the waxing moon, each one lost in thought.
"What's wrong, Viktor?"
"Nothing." His answer came too quickly.
"What have you been doing with your time?"
"I've done my chores."
His father cast him a knowing look. "We both know that's not what I'm speaking of."
Viktor tried to swallow and failed. His throat was too dry. "I spend my free time with Romulus."
"So you say. But don't think your family fools. We are not."
Then and there, Viktor wanted more than anything to confess everything: The sneaking around, the fights, the chases, and the battle he had gotten wrapped up into. He wanted to let all his worries gush forth. Yet as time slid by, he didn't say a word. And how could he? How could he possibly explain his situation without throwing his whole family into danger?
"I've grown up, too, Viktor," his father said solemnly. "I was not always the old, worn miner you see before you. I was young once. I had dreams. And whatever you're facing, I have also. I've gone through it. I can help you."
No, you can't, Viktor thought, holding his father's gaze. You have not been through this. And you have not had dreams like I have. If you did, you'd understand why I have to shield you.
Finally, his father sighed and glanced away. "Viktor, we are more alike than you know. However, if you change your mind, know that I am here."
Viktor's dreams were terrifying that night. Captain Ulfrik strode across the stage with a translucent creature that was half human, half leopard. And instead of the hanged man, Viktor's father stood in the gallows.
Friday, April 29, came like a thief in the night. Viktor could hardly believe their weeks of preparation were over. After breakfast in the Den, he and Romulus headed across the Southeastern Steppes to review their plan with the Crossbones Clan one final time. All seemed well in the green rolling hills until they reached a halfway point to Kasta Way. Feeling a disturbance in the air, Romulus dropped down and placed his ear to the ground, listening.
"Horses!" he hissed.
Viktor scrambled up a rolling hill and looked north: Nothing was coming from Aryk. His gaze swept south. "Three black horses and one rider—it looks like Arseni."
Romulus squinted. "Something's wrong. He's riding too fast."
Indeed, the fire-juggler was driving his mounts at a breakneck speed, and he didn't slow down as he spotted the serfs; he sped up. When he was within a few paces, he barked a command to the horses and they skidded to a stop. He leapt off, breathing hard.
"What's wrong?" Viktor demanded.
"Belch wasn't lying," he gasped. "We were wrong—missed the signs."
"Signs?"
"The lady of black—all those references to medicine and suns and stars—she really was a nurse!"
Romulus' eyes sharpened. "It was Lady Nutrix, wasn't it?"
Viktor pictured the fortune-teller in her bizarre nursery tent. Her predictions of death, betrayal, and clouded judgment stabbed him with doubt.
"Yes, she healed Belch," Arseni said, "talked to him, took pity—but late last night, Captain Ulfrik was in Kasta Way—he followed Belch—he found her and her Kamdrac cards!"
"What did he do?" asked Romulus.
"Tortured Kamdrac's location out of her!"
"Are they alright?" cried Viktor.
"They'll live—but you won't—not if Ulfrik gets to Birstov before you do! He'll torture Kamdrac and find out you've got the king of spades! You've got to reach the old man first!"
Without another word, Romulus swung up onto a horse.
"Aren't you coming?" Viktor
asked, scrambling up next.
"No, you take the three horses. Alternate riding them for added speed!" Then in a whisper, Arseni told Viktor and Romulus the Romani words to make the horses charge. "Use it only in great need! Godspeed!"
With a slap on the flank, the horses took off north, bearing the blood brothers. Viktor was unhinged. Their plan had shattered before it had begun; it was crushed to pieces under the beating horse hooves. This was a race for their lives.
To ride as swiftly as possible, the boys kept on the Southeastern Steppes, passing the eastern side of Aryk. They headed straight to the guard station on the northern road so as not to traverse the forest, and when they rode near, uniformed men scrambled to attention, bellowing for them to halt.
"Throw on your hood. Don't slow down, trust me." Romulus spurred his horse on faster and, at the last moment roared, "Reinforcements for Captain Ulfrik—stand down!"
The lead guard dropped his weapon and echoed orders to his men. The blood brothers rode by with their hooded heads bent and snatched up a jug of water and loaf of bread offered up by the guards. Just as quickly, they were gone.
Mile after mile of hard riding sped by. The horses drank and ate little, the boys not at all. The thought of Belch and Lady Nutrix in pain had them thoroughly nauseous.
And I shut Belch out, Viktor thought. Just like I shut out my family.
The afternoon grew late as they reached the outlying fields of Birstov. Crops whizzed past as they headed for the lonely hill that marked the old card-maker's home. The sky was gray and over the hill, nearly black.
"It's smoke! I can smell it!" said Romulus.
Viktor yanked the reins back when the house came into view: Walls of flames swooped up like dragons. Ash rained down like black snow. The building had become a beacon of fire, a torch atop a hill, an inferno.
"We've got to do something!" Viktor cried.
"We're too late. We just missed Ulfrik. It's over."
Then out of the billowing smoke, a thought so horrendous descended on Viktor that he nearly passed out in the saddle. "Romulus, Ulfrik knows my father. He knows where we live ... and if he matches me with the card, then my family ... my family ..."
"No!" Romulus shouted. "You follow me! We'll get back—don't you dare let up!"
The ride back to Aryk felt like a dream, or rather, a nightmare. It all happened incredibly fast—or was it slow? Viktor couldn't decide, for such darkness he had never known and could not judge. He thought not of the trees whipping past, nor the birds and beasts, nor the sky and the earth. He had a mind only to return to his family, to warn them. Because Ulfrik would be coming for them, coming to kill and fulfill the Leopard's policy.
"Viktor, we must take to the forest!" Romulus hissed. "The guard station won't let us pass twice—not without Ulfrik!"
For the first time since leaving Birstov, Viktor spoke—but in Romani, not Russian. He hissed the words Arseni had entrusted to him; his steed flew like an angel of death. High in the saddle Viktor rode, Romani style, all caution abandoned, Romulus racing after him.
"Who goes there?" cried a guard into the blackness.
"Name yourself or be shot!" screamed another.
Viktor threw on his hood and bent his cheek against his horse's dark neck.
"Halt!"
BOOM!
Gunpowder flashed; bullets whistled past Viktor's ears. His horse faltered.
SMASH!
The collision between steed and man was staggering. Skulls and swords slammed against enormous bones. Guards flew through the air or were trampled under hooves. Then there was nothing but open grass. With Romulus and the riderless horse successfully breaking through, Viktor's horse galloped a hundred yards farther—until suddenly it collapsed.
Viktor landed hard on his head, yet the horse fared far worse. As he crawled his way over, he saw it was riddled with bullet wounds; the noble animal had shielded him from the brunt of the attack. Now the great warrior rested dead on icy ground.
"I'm sorry," cried Viktor in a daze, leaking tears on its wild black mane. "I'm so sorry."
"Hurry!" Romulus yanked him to his feet and pushed him up on the other horse. Across the plain, guards were sprinting in their direction.
Viktor rode after Romulus with a pounding skull. Shadows snatched at him, the stars and full moon burned his vision, and colored orbs circled round him, impossible to blink away. Despite his pain, the serf houses whizzing by boosted his hope. They had made it! He could warn his family! Row 13, House 12 came into view: Viktor's heart cracked.
Familiar orange flames emblazoned the night sky. And there, atop a giant horse, admiring the flames, sat the Masqueraider with the black mask and long gold beak. Out of his saddlebag, he pulled a bottle full of red liquid: A rag hung out of the bottle's neck, and to it, he held a lit match. Then he spurred his horse down the lane, heaving the bottle at the flames.
The bomb burst in the red-hot house with such an enormous fireball that Viktor and Romulus fell off their rearing horses, which took off south. Burning rubble fell from the sky, lighting houses close by as if they were made of straw. Romulus dashed toward his grandmother's shack, but in the short sprint, the flames doubled. All the trash and junk surrounding her house turned into a fiery barricade.
By now, screaming serfs ran up and down Row 13, but Viktor could not hear them for the raging bonfire consuming his own home. Acrid smoke cutting off his breath and vision, he gasped, crawled, searching for an opening in the flames. He retched up stomach acid; tears, mucus, and blood ran down his face. In the madness, his last thoughts lingered on his wise grandfather, his strong father, and his lovely, loving mother. The cold blackness that pulled him away from them was so opposite their character.