The Magic Trick (The Card Game #2)

Epilogue - Ancient Foe

EPILOGUE

ANCIENT FOE

The Leopard waited in the royal library. One by one, his Seven Ghosts arrived and paced through the towers of ancient tomes, coming into the center of the lavish, candlelit space to form a semicircle before him. Several wore disturbed expressions, perhaps because of their master's appearance, for he had not washed nor slept since doing battle. Yet more alarming than blood-encrusted fur and leather, the Leopard knew, was the all-pervading stench in the air.

The piled dead were now burning in the castle's courtyard. The fumes would spread for miles. Aryk had been allowed to revel in a false victory for several days now, but when the town awoke this dawn, it would be to the reeking reminder and foreshadower of the price of their defiance. Any courage they had would be snuffed out like a midnight candle.

At long last, Lieutenant Vyrhus marched into the library, his crimson hair and his black cape flowing behind him. The giant Sergeant Bogatir was at his side, both of the men stinking of the bonfire.

"My apologies for our tardiness, my lord," Vyrhus declared, pulling up and bending his head. "Alas, the pile was great. Too many were lost."

The Leopard let the inept comment float past him. As if replacing the fallen forces would be a problem. His guards were no more than common criminals, each as cheap as the mineral oil that had been poured over their bodies. Masqueraiders even were not hard to come by, for when he spoke Fenya, the whole Thieves' World listened, and when he beckoned, those urchins would come crawling out of every hole in the land. They would beg to join his coming kingdom.

First, though, his experiments needed completion, and in that sense, this battle was far more egregious than the prior year's fluke. The mere thought of the Ghosts' reports, of the slaughtered beasts, of the shriveling gardens—it was enough to boil the blood. Here he stood, closer than ever to realizing the great dream of his lineage, only to be tarried by crude hindrances. But the scholars of the West would come soon.

"It is strange, my lord," said Vyrhus, misinterpreting his master's grimace, "that we allowed the Gypsy scum safe passage across the river when we could have—"

Rose let out a hiss of a laugh. "Do you know what is stranger, Lieutenant? That you, of all people, should speak ill of Gypsy scum. I recently came under the impression that you shared their blood."

Vyrhus' lean, albino face turned skeletal. His fingers twitched toward the hilt of his sword, but they stopped there. Even he knew better than to threaten one of the Ghosts. None who did that lived.

"Excuse his ignorance, my lord," Rose said slyly. "He doesn't understand the complexities of black magic."

The Leopard raised his blood-shocked eyes. "And do you, Proserpina?"

"No, no, my lord," Rose whispered. "Pardon me, I—"

"You wonder why I called a retreat some nights ago, do you not?" said the Leopard, his eyes hovering over his Ghosts and guards. "Yes, I hear the talk and know it revolves around that shade of an enemy who should have been destroyed an age ago: The Maksimov boy ... and his alleged magic. I too questioned if this was the work of the King of Diamonds, if this was one of his foolhardy magic tricks, but ere the truth was evident, you should have been wary of spilling blood, as was I. For every action there is a counter action—all the more so when dealing with forces unseen."

Rose, Peniculis, and Pyotr bowed their heads in agreement, as did Viridis. Ernestus did nothing but glanced at the brothers Fera and Fabula, who also deemed the decision wise. Vyrhus and Bogatir were slow to accept the council, but the Leopard knew that would soon change.

"Fortunately," the Leopard said, "my decision was the correct one. I have long known of this town's mystical roots, and I have reason to believe that olden forces are once again awakening from their slumber. Terenti, step forward. Share the news, so that they may understand."

The man who slunk out of the shadows looked quite out of place surrounded by the robes, silks, furs, and gold of his allies. But Terenti was not shamed by his peasant rags and dirtied face. In Staryi Castle, spy was a high position to hold.

"Two days past," Terenti rasped, "the serfs discovered the boy Fredek dead in the forest, the younger son of the Spektor house, brother to Boris, the new Zoology Apprentice. The serfs believe his death was the work of no man. I must agree. I have seen his body. It suffered under great claws, two feet in diameter. The townspeople say ... that the monster of the Urals has returned."

Immediately, the air changed. The Seven straightened. Vyrhus and Bogatir scowled. Terenti stood under the weight of the Leopard's sunken black eyes, but though sweat poured down his face, he did not shirk away.

"Only magic and blood could have stirred up Ivan the Terrible's foe," the Leopard said softly. "Do you see? We are at the edge of epiphany. Our enemies have tasted the magic stirring in these parts, but it pales in relation to what our efforts have produced in the bones of this castle. We have nearly succeeded in our task."

"It would explain how the Maksimov boy was lent power," Fabula mused, the Magic and Myth Instructor a statue of purple. "Perhaps it was he who made me fall into a spell for these past months. But if he has tapped into this vein of magic, he could prove most problematic to our success."

"Yes," said the Leopard, his lips pulled back to reveal a gold-fanged smile, "which is why you will keep your Apprentices so very close—I believe several are the boy's allies. You see, he has played his hand too early and too eagerly, and with the deck split, he will not survive the creature in the forest. Now tell me, Fabula, my magi, and Viridis, my most loyal forest lord, of what this boy told me before he vanished ... What do you know of Rusalka river curses?"