Chapter 27
ONE WHO SEES THE FUTURE WILL STILL MAKE THE SAME CHOICES
Nik realized at once that the Death Draughtsman’s men had gotten there first. His best and only hope was that Pasha and the sisters had managed to escape before they’d arrived.
In case anyone had remained to watch for his arrival, he quickly used his tunic to turn invisible again and stole through the suite searching for clues.
Relieved to find no signs of blood, Nik was just about to leave when he caught sight of something small—tiny enough to be overlooked, especially when the room was being tossed over by men.
It was a torn piece of Pushka’s veil. Picking it up, Nikolai rubbed it between his fingers, and a blurry image of Pasha appeared before him.
“Sorry we had to leave you, kid. Needed to get out in a hurry. No way to communicate our whereabouts and keep it secret like, without using my power on you. When you picked up the veil, it triggered something only you can access. Thing is, I had to give you a wee little curse to make it work. Won’t hurt or last too long, but you’ll be very thirsty for the next two days.
Then your wiz will turn green and sort of pulpy for the next three.
It’s one of my favorites. Used for those who cheat on their ladies.
Always scares ’em straight. Least for a little while.
Like I said, not to worry. Nothing permanent, and it won’t gum up your works, so to speak.
“Now, while I’m talkin’ . . . get out of there. You shouldn’t have gone in my place. You probably saved my gal and her sister though. Appreciate it. I told him I’d come to him. He’s notorious for changing the rules. I should have anticipated that.”
Nik kept his fingers pressed to the cloth and made his way out into the hall.
Just in time, too, because as he did, four men dashed past his invisible form and barreled into the room, slashing every inch of the space with their swords.
Clearly, they’d been told he could hide.
The men looked different from the ones he’d seen in the compound.
He wondered if the other men had all been hacked up and fed to the tigers.
He shivered and carefully made his way back outside, listening to Pasha’s instructions.
He was to go to a caravan camp outside the Games on the far side of the mountain and search for a fortune teller named Lyudmila.
Once he located her, he was to say he was searching for his brother, Gedeon Volkov.
Nik smirked at that. Gedeon Volkov meant “mighty warrior.” It was just like Pasha to name himself something like that.
Nikolai wondered what his secret identity would be.
Probably Mr. Danger-Always-Finds-Him, or perhaps Mr. I-Have-A-Target-On-My-Back.
Honestly, it was likely more along the lines of “I’m-Already-Down-So-Go-Ahead-And-Kick-Me. ”
Swallowing, Nik realized his mouth had gone dry.
Never in his life had he been so parched.
The curse was already at work. Still invisible, he stole two huge mugs of sbiten and drained them immediately, then headed to another stall and took two dippers of water from a barrel.
That lasted him until he got outside the walls, where he suddenly had the pressing need to relieve himself, which he did behind a tree.
Thankfully, there was nobody around to hear his scream. “Painless?” he hissed. What came out of him was green all right. It reminded him of the mossy beard the tree spirit, Larix, wore. “That bloody, button-eyed, bitter blister.”
He groaned as he adjusted his pants, realizing he was now thirsty again.
He could definitely see why this particular punishment was effective for curbing a man’s enthusiasm for straying.
Nik was extremely uncomfortable. Cursing under his breath, he made his way around from camp to camp, trying and failing to look and act normal and becoming more desperate by the moment to scratch himself.
He asked everyone who’d bother talking to him long enough if they knew of Lyudmila, and finally, he found someone who did.
When he arrived at the formidable woman’s camp, she took one look at his miserable self and clucked her tongue.
Waggling her finger at him, she said, “I do not abide the cheaters. If you are asking me to soften the pain, I will not help you.”
“No. It’s not that.” Nik groaned, longing to clutch his privates. “I’m looking for my brother, Gedeon. Gedeon Volkov? That and a drink, if you have one. Water is fine.”
She looked him up and down. The bangles on her arm jingled musically as she put her hands on her wide hips. “Yes. I bet you are thirsty. Thirsty and chafing. No? Come. I give you drink and help you find brother, but that is all. Yes? And don’t scratch. Not in my tent. Understand?”
Nik nodded and bit his lip. “Yes. Spasibo.”
“Come. You sit here. I bring brother.”
Disappearing through a curtain, Nik sat at a table, warming his hands by a small cookstove.
Soon the fabric stirred, and a serving girl brought a glass with a pitcher of cold water and set it down beside him.
He stared at it greedily, not even waiting for her to leave before gulping down a glass.
He’d emptied three more before he heard voices. One sounded familiar.
“But who is it, good lady?”
“You go, see.”
“If you’re scared, I’ll go.” This came from a young girl. She was the first one to enter. The girl cast aside the curtain and strode up to Nik, offering her hand as if she were a princess. “Hello,” she said.
Before he could shake her hand, the fortune teller called out from behind the curtain, “Don’t shake hands with that one, girl. He’s stricken with a curse. You would’na want it ta rub off.”
“Oh. Sorry,” she said and gave him a curtsy instead.
“Don’t worry about it,” Nik replied. “Dobryy den’, to you,” he added, inclining his head.
“I’m Zima. Who are you?” the little girl asked boldly.
“I’m—”
Before he could answer, the man strode into the room, gave a shout of delight, and exclaimed, “That, my dear, is Nikolai Novikov! I can’t tell you how good it is to see you, Nik. Now what’s all this about a curse? Is there something I can do to help?”
Nik rose from his chair and grasped hands with the priest, then quickly stepped back, withdrawing them.
“Better not take a risk. I don’t think it will rub off on you, but I was also promised it was painless, so you never know.
You have no idea how good it is to see you, Zakhar.
How have you been? I’ve got so much to tell you. ”
“And I, you. I’m so relieved we are reunited at last.”
“Yes, but not all of us. We’ll get to that. But first, have you seen my friend Pasha? He might be going by the name Gedeon. Gedeon Volkov.”
“Oh. I’m a . . .” Zakhar leaned in closer. “I’m afraid Gedeon is my watchword.”
“Really? Well, that’s interesting. How did you come by that, I wonder?”
“It was the little man,” Zima said. “He said we needed to be more careful. And hide our balloon too.”
“Is that right?” Nik queried Zakhar. “So you have a balloon?”
“Yes. I gave the man our gold. In exchange, he’s going to help us rescue Stacia.”
“Did this little man happen to have one large eye in the center of his forehead?”
“He did!” Zima exclaimed.
“Ah. That’s Pasha.”
“At least that’s one mystery solved,” Zakhar said.
“Yeah. About that. You’d better sit down.”
Zakhar and Zima sat, and Nik poured himself another glass of water, downed it, and then peered at the empty pitcher with a scowl.
“Okay, I don’t know how much time we have,” Nik said, “so I’ll just get right to the point. Veru, Stacia, and Iriko have all been captured by the Death Draughtsman.”
“What?” Zakhar said in alarm.
“Who is that?” asked Zima.
“Perhaps, before we continue, we need to make sure certain things aren’t heard by the w-r-o-n-g sort of people.” Nik then asked the little girl, “Who, my dear, are you? And why are you with Zakhar?”
“She’s, um . . . she’s someone we came across along the way. We offered to take her with us in exchange for help from her aunties,” Zakhar explained.
“That’s right,” Zima said, lowering her delicate eyebrows in a scowl that made her look somehow more adorable. “And I’m not wrong. My aunties said so. I was made absolutely correct. Besides, I’m helping you.”
“I see,” Nik replied. “My apologies, then. And, um, how do you help, exactly?”
“I share my gifts.”
“Right. And what gifts might those be?”
Zakhar held up a hand. His expression held great alarm, but Nik ignored him. Nothing was more pressing to Nikolai at the moment than his need to urinate, yet he desperately did not want to leave the tent to do so.
“This is one of them,” Zima said, pulling an ornate timepiece from a knapsack. “Would you like to know your future? I’ve been helping Lyudmila with some of her customers.”
“Sure,” Nik said, hoping indulging her would distract him from his other, baser needs. “Why not?”
He answered her at the exact same moment Zakhar leaned across the table, saying, “Zima, no! Not him!”
The little girl turned to Zakhar and said, “You know I need to share my gift with those I feel is right. This one needs to see.”
Wincing, Zakhar reluctantly nodded while Nik glanced between them in confusion. “What is it I need to see, little one?”
“You need to meet Death.”
“Meet . . . Death?” Nik raised an eyebrow, glancing between Zakhar and Zima, but neither explained further.
Adjusting the clockwork on the top, the little girl angled the dials toward Nik, twisting them back and forth until she was satisfied, and then, when all was ready, she flipped the device upside down.
Nik stared in fascination as white sand began falling . . . up, mixing with black, twisting and turning in a spiral. Then the particles passed through one another, filling opposite sides of the timepiece.