Feeling the sleek golden dagger he’d purloined
from Gethraul’s lair against his thigh (he’d stuck it in his waistband)
,
he grinned as he plunged headfirst into the pond.
*
*
*
After
Ruegger was gone, Lord Sarnova poured more liquor into his coffee, sat back
deeper in his chair and watched the fire.
Godsdamned fire
.
He hadn’t meant to sacrifice his horse, even to
the worthwhile goal of pumping De Soto
for all the information he was worth. Nevertheless,
Tepes
was dead and Sarnova had no chalgids on hand to bring him back. Except, of
course, for Junger and
Jagoda ...
Bastards
.
Trying to take over the Sabo! What arrogance. Did they
really expect Sarnova to sit back and let them seize the Labyrinth? If they
were that stupid, they shouldn’t be hard to kill. Unfortunately, Sarnova did
not doubt their intelligence, which could only mean that they thought they were
powerful enough to withstand his countermeasures. There
would
be countermeasures.
He drank more. Francois should have been here
some time ago ... but then he did have a dead dragon on his hands. Just as
Roche was about to add more liquor into his coffee, someone knocked the side
door.
“Come in, Ambassador.”
Mauchlery entered and slumped into a chair near
his king. He looked drained. “Gethraul made it,” he said. “But De Soto’s dead.”
The Dark Lord had not expected a different
answer. “At least he’s not around to cause any more problems. Not only that,
but his death will probably throw the revolutionaries into turmoil.”
“So you hope. For all we know, they liked him as
much as we did. They might think his death a blessing.”
“Thanks for looking on the bright side.”
Francois smiled thinly.
“Sorry,
Roche.
I just don’t feel very cheerful at the moment.”
“Get some rest. Take a mortal, feel better. I’m
sure getting Gethraul back to life was no piece of cake.”
“I’ll live.”
“By the way ...”
“How did I do it?” Off Sarnova’s nod, Mauchlery
smiled again.
“Through sheer force of will, Roche.
Through sheer force of will.”
The Ambassador sat there for several moments,
silent, as if trying to will his own strength to return to him. He closed his
eyes and took deep breaths and just generally looked as if trying to locate
something—something within himself—that he’d lost. At last, he seemed to give
up, and said, “Roche, where’s the scotch?”
“Where it always is.”
The Ambassador prepared himself a drink. “So
what do you think about Ruegger?”
“He’s strong. Smart.
Not very
respectful of his elders.
But I think he’s in favor of my vision—of the
Undead Jerusalem. I don’t know why, but I trust him.”
Francois nodded, sipping. “Think he’ll beat
Kiernevar?”
“I’m not prepared to guess.”
“Do you still want Ruegger to lose?”
“No,” Roche said.
“Do you want him to win?”
“No.”
“So ...”
Roche groaned. At first he had seen Ruegger as a
disruptive element, an enemy, but the public held the Darkling in high regard
(or at least the press did; the Marshals sold papers), and it would have made
Sarnova look bad if he had been forced to kill Ruegger without at least giving
the Darkling a fighting chance. And then of course there was Kharker to
consider. So he’d given Ruegger the opportunity to go up against Kiernevar,
hoping that the Darkling would be defeated and Sarnova could have him executed
without losing the support of his subjects.
At the same time, he did not want Kiernevar to
win.
The only upside to a victory by Kiernevar would be that—hopefully—the
lunatic would be easier to handle than Ruegger.
Kiernevar, existing
solely in his own limited world, might not fully realize the power he would
possess if were to be Sarnova’s successor ... whereas Ruegger would be fully
aware and in a position to exploit his position.
“Well?” pressed the Ambassador.
“I don’t know. I ... like Ruegger. And I don’t
think he has any urge to rule. The danger he poses is small. On the other hand,
now that Junger and Jagoda have taken such an interest in Kiernevar—and are
expanding their own boundaries ...”
“What do you mean?”
“The fuckers have created some
thing
... or things ... that is, or
are, taking over the Sabo.”
“What?”
Briefly, Sarnova related what he’d seen through
the eyes of the doomed horse.
“But what
is
it?” the Ambassador said.
“I don’t know.
Some ...
art
.
I guess you could call it a collage of sorts. You know how they are.
Everything’s a piece of art to them.
Even death.”
“Especially death.”
“Right.
Well, I don’t know what
they think they’re doing, but they’re doing it regardless. Plus, with this
Kiernevar thing hanging in the balance ...”
“What are you going to do?”
“The only thing I can. Organize a war party and
go down in there to get them out.”
“You think they’re down there themselves? You
don’t think they just created the thing and set it loose?”
“Taking over the Sabo through remote control?”
“They could be over at the Floor Show for all we
know.”
“I doubt it. The Guards are at this very moment
combing the castle for them.”
Francois gave him a strange look. “You acted
fast.”
“They provoked me, or at least that was the
result. They killed a man and strung him up in one of the rooms the Funhouse
has been staying in.”
Francois looked even
more
weary
than before. “Why?”
“I have no idea. Some grudge or other, I
imagine. Whatever their motive, it means nothing to me except disrespect, and I
will not tolerate it. However, I will try to find them first, reason with them,
see if I can convince them to back off. They won’t, of course. I’ll have to
kill them.”
“Roche ...”
Sarnova waited.
“It won’t happen that way,” Francois said.
“Oh, I know. They wouldn’t have started this
thing unless they thought they stood a chance of winning. Nevertheless, my
options are limited.”
“Just the same …”
“They have to be dealt with. And they will. Leave
it to me. As for you, I need you to organize a meeting of the traitors and
discuss De Soto’s
death, hear what they have to say, and basically make sure you’re still their
leader.”
“Consider it done.”
“They need to be united, under you, so that they
pose no threat.”
Francois nodded, said nothing.
“A penny for your
thoughts.”
The Ambassador laughed softly and drank some
more scotch.
“What’s so funny” Sarnova said.
“Just that you’d be
wasting a penny.”
Francois sat the glass down, running a hand through his blood-streaked hair. “I
need some sleep, Roche. You could use some yourself.”
Sarnova smiled. “Consider it done.”
*
*
*
When
Ruegger returned to the room he shared with Danielle, he found four Castle Guards
standing outside.
“What’s this?” he demanded.
“Sarnova sent us here to ensure that nothing
happened to you or to Danielle before the chess match between you and the ...
well, Kiernevar,” one said.
“You’re supposed to protect us?”
“Something
like
that.”
“Are we in any danger?”
“Junger and Jagoda have allegedly killed a
member of the Funhouse of the Forsaken, and they left the body in Danielle’s
old room.”
Ruegger nodded. The Balaklava
liked to play, and it wasn’t out of character for them to throw fright into
those that they were playing with. However, he doubted that this was the only
reason the Guards were posted here.
“What if we tried to leave, Danielle and
I
? Would you try to stop us?”
The Guard shifted uncomfortably. “We’ve been
directed to prevent you from escaping, should you chose to do so.” He gestured
apologetically. “I’m sorry about this—I’m admirer of yours; I read about you
every chance I get in the papers—we’re just doing our job. We’re to follow
wherever you go until the game.”
“What about Danielle? Aren’t you supposed to be
protecting her?”
“We’re undermanned, you know. Not enough Guards
to go around, so we were kind of hoping you two wouldn’t separate. Please, sir.
Just let us do our job, we won’t interfere. Your room is soundproofed. We’ll
give you your privacy.”
He struck out a hand in friendship.
Swearing under his breath, Ruegger said, “We’ll
try to be good.”
“That’s all we’re asking.”
Ruegger took the offered hand, nodded to the
other three Guards, and moved inside, where Danielle was lying on the bed
reading a book. When he entered, she
shoto
her feet
and hugged him.
“Cute, aren’t they?” she said.
“So much for getting the
hell out of here while we still had a chance.”
“You wouldn’t have gone anyway.”
“No, I guess not, at that. Did they tell you
about ...?”
“Junger and Jagoda?
Yeah. But if the
bastards were trying to leave a message or something, it could just as easily
have been for Sophia as for me—or Max, for that matter.” She shook her head.
“Not that … if it had been intended for someone else … that would be any better,
of course.”
“I know what you mean.”
“All I’m saying is that since that message may
not’ve
been for me—and since I haven’t heard that guards
were posted to Sophe, it means those guys out there are more jailers than
protectors.”
She touched his face lightly with her fingertips.
“Jesus, your clothes are stiff ... wet,” she
said, laughing a little. She squeezed him harder and said, “I was worried about
you. The sun …”
“It’s all right, baby.” He kissed her forehead,
smelling her clean and fragrant hair. “Everything’s going to be just fine.”
She pressed her lips against the place over his
heart, took his hand and pulled him over to the bed. “Now tell me what the hell
happened.”
“Well, among other things, I killed a dragon
.“
When he had finished the tale and convinced her
that he wasn’t pulling her leg, she propped some pillows under her back and lit
a cigarette, frowning in thought.
“You think this is random?” she asked.
“Meaning, does it have any relation to finding
out why Ludwig died?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t know.
The dragons,
the Refuge.
I mean, on top of everything else to sort through, this doesn’t
just add a few pieces to the puzzle, it changes it entirely. We need some evidence,
some
real
evidence, of who hired those two to kill Ludwig. Without that,
we’re just chasing phantoms.”
She stared into space. “So magic is real
… ?”
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
Ruegger was tired of mysteries. He simply wanted
to hold Danielle in his arms and sleep. Thankfully, she let him.
*
*
*
Ten
soldiers stopped Lord Kharker as he descended into the catacombs.
“Please, sir, we’re to advise anyone who tries
to go down this way to refrain. There have been ... unforeseen circumstances ...
and the catacombs are considered potentially dangerous.”
“I know all about it. The Balaklava
are
supposed to be down there. That’s why there are
ten of you here. I can handle them.”
“Excuse me, Lord Kharker, I would not deny you,
of all people, access to the tunnels, but I must tell you that I am to report
all those who descend into them ... well, I have to report you to the Lord
Sarnova if you pass through. I guess he figures anyone who goes down there
might have ties to Junger and Jagoda.” The soldier smiled nervously, as if
suggesting that this was only a joke. “Please, I implore you, don’t go down
there. It’s dangerous.”
Kharker laughed,
then
stepped forward.
“Out of my way, lads.
I’ve got things to do
and I don’t care whether Blackie knows about them or not. Go, give your report.”