The Law of Three

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Cain and Abel

 -- Cuman Union Compound : Brooklyn --

Kiril returned to his luxury apartment in the compound, dismissing his Gyilkosok escort to return to their duties. Viktor Jobbik and Tibor Vona stood and nodded respectfully when he entered. Kiril tossed his jacket in a chair and walked behind his personal bar. He lifted a bottle of 25-year-old Laphroaig single malt scotch from the back bar and poured four fingers in a thick, crystal glass. He took a large sip and set the glass on the bar. He twisted the glass rapidly in quarter turns, a nervous habit he’d developed as a teen.

His well-appointed suite had all the comforts any man could ask for. His monthly allowance exceeded that of an Arabian prince. He had his pick of any of the unattached women in the CU. Viktor and Tibor would give their lives to protect his. Even with all his apparent good fortune Kiril’s most pronounced feeling was one of misery. He spent his days in ceaseless boredom. With the day of the Csere approaching a nagging, chafing sense of impatience compounded his misery.

Kiril hated his standing in the Cuman Union as the son of the Fej. As the heir apparent he had influence but no power, status but no actual rank. His counsel was sought but never followed. Next to the Fej he had the highest profile of all Kochoba but he might as well have been invisible with all the good it did him. Kiril felt like a prisoner in an opulent cell, sentenced from birth to do nothing, be nothing, say nothing.

Viktor and Tibor waited patiently for Kiril’s orders. He didn’t offer his friends a glass. They wouldn’t have taken it if he did. They were forbidden from drinking while on duty lest it dull their senses.

Even his bodyguards weren’t under his control. Everything he had he did not possess. He existed at the whim of the Fej.

I am no better off than Kutya.

Kiril laughed out loud at the thought

We are both pets of the Fej.

Kiril laughed again. Tibor and Viktor exchanged a look to determine if they should join in the laughter. Tibor shut his eyes for a few seconds and Viktor understood, keeping his mouth shut.

What the--?

Kiril’s amusement was short lived. The sound of animals driven to madness, muted as it was, escaped from grated floor vents. The hairs on the back of Kiril’s neck stood straight up.

Maybe I am better off than Kutya.

“I want this room sound proofed,” Kiril ordered.

“Yes, Kiril,” Viktor responded.

They both knew what Kiril ordered would be passed on to the Fej. Whether or not his father acted would be another story, another sign of Kiril’s impotence.

“What is the status of this witness?”

“Harrach has an osztag of Katona stationed outside of her apartment. They await the will of the Fej,” Tibor answered.

“Harrach is trustworthy, his team capable, Kiril,” Viktor assured his charge.

Katona, the foot soldiers of the Cuman Union, enforced the will of the Fej on the streets of the new country and the old. They had all begun as Katona, even Kiril. In order to belong to the Harcos, the warrior caste of the Kochoba, every candidate had to undertake the brutal training. The training took place at a ruined mountain fortress, Ördög Sügér, Devil’s Perch, deep in the Dinaric Alps in Croatia.

The elite of the survivors of Katona indoctrination then undertook further training as Testőr. The Testőr served as bodyguards for the Inas Kör. They also provided security for the Brooklyn compound and Devil’s Perch. Those of the Testőr who demonstrated exceptional skill and loyalty qualified for training as Gyilkosok. The Gyilkosok held the distinction as the highest caste of the Harcos. If a candidate failed the training they suffered execution. No one could ever know the secret of the Gyilkosok and not be Gyilkosok. Belong or die, no exceptions.

The Gyilkosok served as assassins. They worked directly with Kutya and as such knew and protected the most closely guarded secret of the Cuman Union. One could never serve on the Inas Kör and not be Gyilkosok. Janòs Szábacs was Gyilkosok as was every Fej dating back to the time of Zayhan Szábacs, Kahn of the Kochoba and the first Fej to sit at the head of the Inas Kör of the Cuman Union. Kiril was Gyilkosok. He’d had no choice.

Belong or die.

Kiril belonged, but at what price?

Hate. That is my price. I hate Kutya. I hate my father. I hate what I’ve become. Maybe it is this impotence and hate that drive all heirs to do what must be done during the Csere.

“Sit.”

Viktor and Tibor sat. Kiril took his glass and joined them in the living area. When he was settled he set his glass on the arm of the chair and began his nervous habit. Turn. Turn. Turn.

“What do you know of his will? Kill? Or capture?”

Viktor and Tibor exchanged a look.

“We don’t know,” Tibor answered.

“What of the Inas Kör? What do your comrades in the Testőr say?”

Viktor and Tibor were Testőr and as such privilege to the rumors that swirled around the Servants.

“They counsel death for the witness,” Viktor replied.

“The time of the Csere is upon us and they worry that something might interfere,” Tibor explained.

Every member of the Union knew that the time of the Csere had arrived. Only the Fej, the Inas Kör, the Régiek and the Gyilkosok understood exactly what the Csere entailed.

And of course Kutya and I. We know exactly what is to happen.

The Servants were right to worry. Their entire existence hinged on a successful Csere. Anyone could usurp the ceremony and thus the power of the Union.

Kiril held his glass in both hands and gazed at the amber liquor. He glanced at Tibor and Viktor then stared back into the glass. They would be the only Testőr to observe the ritual, the only outsiders to understand the power the Union held. Then they would be offered in blood sacrifice before they had time to comprehend. Pity. They had shown extreme loyalty to the Union, but they were Kochoba and Kochoba knew only death and service. This was their way.

And it had been their way since the beginning.