The Magic Trick (The Card Game #2)

Ch 24 - An Old Grudge

CHAPTER XXIV

An Old Grudge

Viktor's eyelids were crusted with rheum. It took several attempts to open them, but when he did, he made out the form of someone sitting in a chair at his bedside. It was Evenova, biting her nails and staring at the floor. Viktor shifted and felt his clothes soaked in sweat. Why? Then it all came back to him—the Latin, the Infusions, the death! He tried to spring up in his bed, but his body was weak and his head slow.

Evenova sucked in a breath. "You're up. Finally, you're up."

"I'm alive? I'm alive!" Viktor exclaimed. "Because he saved my life ... the Lord of the Forest ... the dark powder."

"What?" Evenova leaned forward in her chair. "Viktor, I've been trying to rouse you for hours! You slept through the night and the whole day. The Trials are over."

Viktor looked around to find the room empty. "Where are our friends?"

"Gone."

"Taken as Ghosts?" Viktor gasped.

"No, no—"

"They're not dead!"

"Of course not!" Evenova said. "But ... but there was my old friend Agnessa ... and Sofiya ... and Sevastian."

The aftermath of Rose's tower flashed in Viktor's mind. He braced himself against his headboard. There was no motive behind it. Just hatred. "Tell me the Apprentices haven't been chosen yet."

"No, but who knows when they will be?" said Evenova, puffing hair out of her eyes. "Everyone left this morning—and the Gypsies went to find Romulus—and then to gather in Kasta Way. I don't know if Aryk's in mourning or chaos, but since then I've heard castle servants talking about mad things—like the sacking of the circus, like new Brassard graffiti. Viktor, I don't know what's happening out there, but I think Romulus means to carry out the plan tonight!"

For a moment Viktor's mouth hung open; the next he jutted out of bed but fell face-first against the stone. He gathered himself again.

Evenova jumped up after him. "Where do you think you're going?"

Viktor turned. "We can't free the Ghosts by force—it's impossible. We need Pollex' help. I'm going to find him—and then Romulus. You need to find Charlotta. Make sure she's safe. Please."

"Wait—there's something else—about Latin."

Viktor wasn't listening. He dashed out of the room and was gone. Trying not to look too suspicious upon exiting the servants' quarters, he walked briskly down white stone halls, heading for the castle's heart. It seemed unusually quiet for the dinner hour. No servants passed him in the corridors, nor did guards. A bad feeling was taking root in his gut, and then he neared the entryway of Staryi Castle and heard a great deal of noise. He ducked behind a hanging tapestry and waited. Perpendicular to his hiding spot, in the grand hall beyond, was a long train of marching footsteps—and laughs and orders and clanks and cries and grunts.

Guards led the pack, and initially Viktor thought they made up its entirety. Yet then Masqueraiders paced by, their beaked and crowned and horned masks gleaming in the torchlight. They carried swords, whips, clubs, and pistols—and to Viktor's growing horror—they used all of the items to strike and beat the prisoners whom they were escorting inside.

And the prisoners! Viktor's heart cracked as he laid eyes on their faces, tens of faces, a hundred faces. No older than he, bloodied and chained, boys and girls: These were the youths of the Bizarre Bazaar. Some, like Arseni and the Yully triplets, were foreigners who had been kidnapped. But most, Viktor knew, were lost children of Aryk, the few babes who had not been cast into the river during the Card rebellion, but instead sold into slavery.