6. Puppeteer
Er ist der Herr der Dunkelheit,
Tod ist sein Geleit,
der Herr der Einsamkeit…
(Schandmaul - Tyrann)
"Are you really sure-"
"Positive," Ascol told Kirik once again. "Now stop fumbling and move."
The wide staircase was squeaky clean, very much unlike the dirty back alley where the gloomy ten-story building stood.
Kirik never stopped shivering while going downstairs. The cold was the most obvious reason, of course, but for some of it he had his fear to blame. Not that being afraid was that unreasonable, given their destination.
The Hollow's trail has gone cold already. Of course, they had everyone in the nearby cities on high alert, but the necessary resources were lacking to a depressing extent. A failed operation resulting in dozens of wounded caused Julian to have a fit, the kind one could expect from a guy with "Raving" as his moniker. Still, Father Ascol was acting a bit too strange – no amount of thinking brought Kirik closer to understanding the logic behind his latest decision to go somewhere for three to five days leaving his brute of a second officer in charge. Right after he recovered, no less! Having given the order, he called for the creep from Atlas and Kirik to announce that the three of them were promptly leaving for Munich. The alchemist was deeply outraged and immediately demanded an explanation for this doubtlessly strange act and, unlike Kirik, he seemed to get one since he was pretty calm afterwards. At least in transit. The young candidate, on the other hand, didn't learn the destination until their arrival.
And when he did, he was truly terrified.
"How is this place called, again?" Kirik slipped and nearly rolled head over heels down the stairs but he managed to grasp the wall at the last moment.
"The Broken Seal," Katt muttered without turning away. "Have you forgotten anything?"
"No."
"What's my name?"
"Fabius Roch."
"Got it in one. Nobody knows you there, so you may introduce yourself however you want. If you are asked, that is. Otherwise, keep your mouth shut and don't stick your noise anywhere."
"And why isn't that alchemist here?"
"He said mingling in those circles was currently bad for his health. And he's not the type to stay unrecognized for long. Alright, time to move."
Soon they were met by the sight of a massive dark door that was railed off by black ribbon. A small table stood nearby; a gaunt man with a gloomy and pustulous face was seated behind it. An old, small metronome stood on the table; the man slightly moved it forward upon seeing Ascol and Kirik. The pendulum twitched slightly and swung a couple of times. Having waited until the third swing, the pimple-faced man slowly raised his hand.
"Should I introduce you?" He asked instead of greeting the pair. "If yes, then how?"
"No need," Ascol drawled in his usual manner. "I haven't been here for a long time. Is everything as usual?"
"These are tumultuous times," The guard unbuckled the ribbon. "So there's that."
"Of course," Ascol pushed the door open. "So much going on, dammit."
When Kirik learned that such a place existed, he immediately asked why it was still tolerated. Father Katt just laughed.
"You just can't go without cesspools like this one," He answered. "They are tolerated because things are less complicated that way. Keeping track of crooks and busting them, if needed, become much easier. Besides, you might need some help that's better kept off the record. Or to get your hands on something you can neither craft yourself nor expect the Association to give you. One never knows. These are magi, Kirik. Search all you want, but finding someone sinless is out of question here."
"And what about that… von Weitl? Can we trust him?"
"Well, he is a magus. So he wouldn't have anything against with selling his own mother if it came to that. But he's slightly more steadfast than the others."
This response did as little to assuage Kirik's doubts as all the previous ones. But only now, upon getting to visit this rather sinister establishment, did he understand that one had to be had to be in the know to understand just how bleak the picture truly was.
Of course, he didn't know what was happening on the upper floors, though Ascol did say those were protected by a bounded field with three layers, maybe a stronger one. It was one of the reasons why no mundane pedestrian No pedestrian would The passersby didn't really want to loiter around or stare at the building, and they definitely weren't eager to enter the dirty back-alley, reach the inconspicuous staircase and enter the building, stopping in front of this very metronome. Ascol told Kirik with a laugh that those who tried to enter the club even after the device didn't react to them were forced to strike up a very close acquaintance with a few bruisers that were posted directly behind the door. That kind of greeting was reserved for the majority of visitors without any Magic Circuits. Sometimes it included leaving them in the nearest ditch after altering their memories of the encounter.
Kirik didn't know how many underground levels the building had, but there definitely were several. The one they were currently at looked quite respectable.
For a place run by magi, anyway.
At first glance it was nothing more than some high-class establishment, if only a bit too strict when it came to admitting new clients. There were many large, stuffy chambers, furnished in dark colors. One was a splendid bar, the other, a small smoking room where people of wildly different ages and backgrounds were discussing something while sipping drinks of their choice. They had rooms for playing pool and card games, and it seemed like an auction of sorts was taking place nearby.
But there were some very interesting things to overhear, if one were paying attention. For one, patrons in the smoking room were trying to guess how many casualties would a "Grail War" bring, estimating the costs of moving someone's facilities to a country where there is much less fuss made about people going missing, discussing the last attempt to "get that nonsense out of the Bermuda Triangle" and commenting on a disgrace that was the Prague Association once again budging at the negotiations and handing the project they'd been working on for decades to the Tower. As they went forward, it became increasingly clear that money wasn't a go-to bet in the gambling hall: most of the time players were betting all manner of weird things (that were often in closed containers and chests), "spiritual lands" and titles one would be hard-pressed to pronounce. Kirik was more than a little surprised to see some fop with a strong British accent lose a pale girl, sitting silently by his side, in a game of chess.
"This? A homunculus, nothing special," Ascol said while braving the sea of patrons on his way to the next room.
The farther they went in, the more interesting things got. A veritable cornucopia of curiosities was going under the hammer: entire mansions, creepy puppets, body parts in jars… Strangely enough, the most useless and bizarre (from Kirik's point of view) things turned out to be the most contended. Examples included a bundle of some bluish black feathers, a mangled (probably with a knife) painting which depicted a blonde woman in an opulent dark-red gown, tiny vials, containing some thick and obviously nasty liquid...
"Hang around here for a bit," Ascol said, having lead Kirik into yet another small passage. "I need to ask around."
"And what if-"
Ascol has already gone off, leaving him alone. No, worse than alone: he was surrounded by people he has been learning to think of as his enemies for such a long time…
Kirik decided to wait somewhere he wouldn't attract any unwanted attention, and so he returned to the smoke-filled room, where he was glad to find a vacant armchair in the far corner. Having picked up a boring business newspaper from the table, Kirik sat down and started pretending to rigorously examine its contents, which were boring as hell: the rag mostly dealt with stock market data, and even magic was less of a mystery for him than that. Meanwhile, the discussion was still going strong.
"Europe is in uproar. The Tower issued an official bounty for his head three days ago."
"Yeah, I've heard about that already. What's the reward?"
"The fourth rank and a decent plot of land in-"
"… is being taken care of. They got Aсanta Half-a-Heart on board."
"She wouldn't agree to do a job for less than two hundred grand. I wonder how much she asked for this one."
"Can't imagine."
Having worked out that the mages seemed to be discussing Albert Blach, who, apparently, was rather infamous by that point, Kirik started listening closely. After all, they could say something worthwhile.
"The Tower alone has already sent more than a dozen men."
"I am a bit surprised the Magus Killer hasn't showed up yet. Looks like his kind of work."
"I bet we won't see him. He must be rotting in some pit. I mean, how long has it been since we saw him for the last time? Ten? Or maybe more? He's gone, without a trace."
"Well… do you remember that rumor? About the Einzberns bribing him?"
"Sure. Didn't believe it then, don't believe it now. I mean, dealing with people like him isn't worth the effort. And why would they?"
"Well, there's that ritual. It's starting soon…"
"Their ritual is a joke. Just like anyone who would actually want to participate in something like that is. We've seen enough of that farce already. A lot of blood, just as much filth and zero results. But no, here they go again. For the fourth time, no less!"
"Well, whatever tickles their fancy."
"Still, gentlemen, I don't think ignoring that shebang is a good idea. I mean, they might actually get somewhere this time around."
"I doubt it. Though I would enjoy watching the spectacle, I guess. Who do you think has the best chances?"
"As if there's any options. The Einzberns might not manage to clean up the mess, but at least they won't suffer that much. They are the only ones with their brains still intact."
"Matou?"
"They got no chance, as usual. The family is rotten to the core."
"How about some more news? Half of our department is in stitches – Lord El Melloy is going to be one of the participants."
"He sure gets around. Marriage, then a Grail War…"
"So what? What's so unusual about a man who can't sit still?"
"Nothing. Except there are many more civilized, practical and safe ways to prove oneself. But no, everyone wants to show off."
"Actually, I've been thinking about going there myself, but I don't feel that well…"
"That's not something you want to be a part of, trust me. Besides, isn't it a bit late? I mean, you won't get much done in six months."
"Well, I need only a week to pack my things and arrive there."
"And then?"
"I could wait until somebody kicks the bucket."
"You might bite it before that. I heard the whole system was hanging by a thread. That's why they chose some dump in the middle of nowhere that won't be missed if something goes wrong."
"If I were the Owner of the land, I'd tell anyone people with ideas like that to go someplace they wouldn't find without a map. And what were those… Tohsaka thinking?"
"You can't cure idiots or visionaries."
"Looks like you could spend hours doing nothing but yammering about that ritual. Meanwhile, I got something more interesting for you. Do you remember the good old Espen?"
"Espen Kreva? You mean that weirdo?"
"Yep. A little bird told me he'd messed up big time. He's been all over another "brilliant" project of his for twenty years or so. Didn't even let any other Red Ring members in on it. In the end his beloved vampire woke up and ran for it. Slaughtered half the military base she'd been brought to on the way. Rumor is, she even got to Kreva's very own throat.
"Well, there you go. Yet another proof that daft plans and dreams mean trouble. Did they at least manage to deal with her?"
"You wish. They brought in helicopters and a marine company… no dice. I don't know what they pumped her with, but she seems to have no problem with direct sunlight. And Espen is missing, so he might have to prepare with leaving our mortal coil himself."
"If he's alive, I swear I'll make him a medal myself. Medal of Impenetrable Idiocy, first rank."
"Oh yes. Even taking part in a Grail War looks reasonable when compared to his projects."
Kirik let out a deep sigh. Apparently, there wasn't any reason to expect he might hear something useful if he stayed any longer.
"And what do you think?" One of the magi suddenly turned to him. "Excuse me, you-"
"Me?" Kirik suddenly put the newspaper aside. "I think… erm… ah. I'm sorry, I have to run – just remembered something."
The executor candidate stood up and quickly left the room, paying little mind to looks of surprise.
No, he couldn't stay there any longer. But where could he hide?
Ascol. He had to find him right now.
What if…
What if something happened to him?
Well, if that were the case, Kirik would be done for. Even getting out of here without attracting attention would be too hard for him.
After getting through the crowd in the hall, Kirik went to the smoke-filled bar, frantically looking around yet trying not to commit anything he saw to his memory: some things one could see here were definitely capable of harming one's sanity.
Father Katt, as it turned out, was sitting at a small table against the far wall. Before him stood nothing but a glass of water, and yet his sour grimace could easily make one think head just been fed a few boxes worth of lemons.
He wasn't alone.
The middle-aged woman in a rugged trench coat sitting across the table didn't look too dangerous. Her feet were resting on a massive trunk. Heavy glasses and a cigarette accentuated her rather beautiful face quite nicely. There wasn't anything unusual about the woman, except maybe for her hair colour: just how much dye did she use to give it that dark-red hue?!
Kirik didn't want to interrupt the conversation, so he just moved a bit closer and took a seat at the corner where he could listen to them talk. See the two of them, too. Father Katt might have noticed him, but he didn't let it show – his gaze was moving back and forth between his conversation partner and the glass. "In other words, it's the only reason you are here, isn't it?" Kirik heard the woman say.
"That's one way to put it," Ascol answered her. "I hoped… I hoped I could pick up the trail of von Weitl here."
"You know they are borderline reclusive. The family has been using patsies to pull their chestnuts out of the fire since the First World War."
"Still, they are one of the most ancient families in Europe. Even, say, the Blachs are just children fresh out of sandbox when compared to them."
"You need to find Neutgart because of his talents? You know, I am somewhat offended to be contacted only to find another puppet master," The woman smirked. "Especially since we're talking about that arrogant kraut."
"With all due respect, there's no way I could scrounge up enough to pay for your services till… I don't know, Second Coming? Von Weitl, on the other hand, owes me."
"He isn't the one to end up in somebody's debt. Nauseatingly cautious, that one. How'd you manage it?"
"That's an old and messy story," Ascol smiled with his lips. "I managed to get a certain very obnoxious hunter off his back. When that back was pretty close to breaking, no less. Now, back to our business. Do you know where Neutgart is?"
"Why, I do," She answered impishly. "He's buried six feet under."
"What?"
"He's been for quite a while, too. Nobody looked into it, though a mage of such skill dying in a stupid accident like that… Nonsense doesn't even begin to describe it. Even if the accident in question involved a train going off the rails."
"Just great," Ascol sighed after a few moments of silence. "So much wasted time…"
"Don't jump to conclusions. You still have a chance."
"What do you mean? If von Weitl is dead-"
"Can't get much deader. But that's the father we are talking about."
"Of course!" Katt smacked himself on the forehead. "I forgot he had a son!"
"Did you meet him?"
"Long ago. Well, I didn't exactly "meet" him. I only got a glimpse of him while I was visiting Neutgart. He looked like a careless word would get him disciplined with an acid-drenched rod."
"I wouldn't be too surprised if that's how it was. The family is known to be very old-fashioned. Of course, everyone in these circles treats them with due respect, but people tend to view them as heroes of the past, or something like that. After all, their current situation isn't all that great. In the last century their showing wasn't all that great either, come to think of it."
"As far as achievements go, their survival itself is impressive enough. Their lifestyle wasn't exactly conductive to safety. So, the young von Weitl is alive and well?"
"Exactly. And I could even tell you where to start looking for him."
"Not for free, of course."
"Of course. I'm not here to stay, I just need to obtain some materials for my new workshop. And I don't have enough-"
"So, how much wretched pelf is this going to cost me?" Ascol wheezed with a laugh.
"Considering you are a good acquaintance of mine…" The woman took a pencil from her pocket and scrawled something over the menu. "This much, more or less. Can you afford it?"
"Yes. It's possible, if only barely so," Katt answered after a minute or two of tense silence. "So where-"
"Here," His acquaintance smiled. "Right here, in two hours, three at most."
"What-"
"He was challenged to a duel three days ago. Everything will be resolved tonight."
The second basement level seemed to consist of nothing but a couple of chambers and a long hallway that ended somewhere far away, where no lights were on. Maybe there was something else, but Kirik had no desire to even start guessing – when it came to magi, some things were best left in the dark.
Father Katt's answers to his questions were brief, while his voice betrayed weariness and exasperation. Still, at least the old executor wasn't silent.
"And your acquaintance?"
"Aozaki Touko. If this name means nothing to you, I think it's safe to say you've never spent much time around magi."
"Where would I... And you? Have you been here before?"
"Here, and in many other places like that. You don't think our job is about nothing more than stabbing and slashing whoever is our target without ever stopping to do some thinking, do you?"
"Well-"
"People with that mindset are also pretty important. But they are the lower caste," The executor chuckled. "Now, don't think I'm bragging. If I didn't have the damn Circuits, there wouldn't be much going on for me. But since I inherited this little gift, they decided I should be trained to perform more delicate tasks."
More delicate doesn't mean less dirty, though.
"And were there many people with Circuits in your family?"
"I got them from my mother." Katt's response was curt. "She was accepted to the family and under the Eighth Sacrament, even given a quiet job at the Assembly."
Which she quickly abandoned, causing that horrendous scandal…
"And is it true… about your family? Well, I heard they-"
"What about my family?" Ascol's voice took on an angry note.
"I heard they have been educating and training prospective members of our branch for a very long time."
"Sure, they've been in business of sending fodder to the House of Slaughter since who knows when," Ascol snorted. "Everyone is introduced to the Eighth Sacrament since the early childhood. Only three ways are left: they end up either at the Assembly or with us."
"And the third one?"
"Give up, roll over and kick the bucket, of course. Father used to say: the sooner rotten fruits on the branch are buried, the better. And even I don't know just how many branches our family tree has."
"Have you seen them recently?"
"It's not like there is anybody to see," Ascol's eyes made it clear that continuing with this line of inquiry wasn't a good idea. "I stopped being interesting for them when my initial training was completed and they passed me along the chain. And I really don't want to know how many people they are training now."
For a moment Kirik clearly saw a grimace of pain in Ascol's face, but in less than a few moments it went back to being completely unreadable.
"Where the hell is she?" Katt muttered, looking at his watch. "We're definitely going to be late if this goes on."
"Will she be watching this… duel?"
"Yes. Just like all the other bastards that happened to be here tonight. By the way, I recommend choosing a more appropriate mask."
"Excuse me-"
"You are a magus. Just an apprentice, but you are still supposed be as arrogant as a master. Maybe even moreso. Act with more confidence, and avoid excessive gestures or words. Show less emotion, too. Unless we are talking derision and pride. Reserve the former for the others, inflame the latter. That's the only way to get by here."
"Why?"
"If you can't handle it, consider yourself dead meat: they'll tear you apart limb by limb. Trust me, there was a time when I had to perform the role of a magus for so long, Iäve almost lost myself, in more ways than one."
"Did you use to work undercover?"
"As a young man. Was when I got to know her," Katt nodded towards the iron door. "We were gunning for a crew that ordered huge batches of dolls, while trying to recruit, kidnap or kill all the biggest names in the fields. Except they underestimated her, and then a couple of homunculus makers."
"Can we trust her, at least?"
"Do you remember what I told you about the magi before?"
"Erm… that a magus would not hesitate to sell their mother for parts?"
"Exactly. And she's the type to personally take charge of the proceedings, if it means she'll be paid even a dime more. No need to worry, though – I owe her now, so she'll play ball. Until we pay her, anyway."
"Can we even afford her services?"
"It's on Julian's tab. Too bad I won't be able to see his mug when it comes to authorizing the transfer," Katt smirked. "Just don't say anything that would be out of place or get in trouble."
The door went ajar.
"Time to go," Ascol stopped leaning on the wall and stretched. "No need to keep the esteemed magi waiting."
The chamber turned out to be quite spacious. It was steeped in quaint semidarkness, empty and quiet. The silence called to mind an impression of a museum. Indeed, the room seemed to serve as a museum or an exhibit room of sorts: the walls were adorned in display cases, basking in the light of multi-colored lamps. The cases were empty, though, with a possible exception of those that were covered with cloth: apparently, the owners didn't get to removing their contents in time.
"The exposition got closed last week," Touko still had a cigarette between her teeth. "It had two problems: the first prize was barely enough to count as small change, and the very next day the second and the sixth place were at each other's throats."
"You mean von Weitl and-"
"Arthur Kaw, an upstart from across the pond. He's got talent, that's true, but he's only third generation, so everyone here looks at him as if he's some kind of mongrel, which is why he's fuming all the time. Kaw got thoroughly pissed and started getting at the German's nerves. The Yank bought prosthetics from him after losing both arms half a year ago, but he still is in von Weitl's debt. Throw in getting the last place at the competition…"
"Long story short, he went off the deep end."
"That he did. Kaw accused von Weitl of every sin under the sun and demanded satisfaction. The latter follows traditions to the letter, so he, of course, rose up to the challenge. They were given three days to prepare, now this mess is going to get sorted out."
"Who do you think is going to win?" Ascol slowly fished out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. "Though that's a dumb question, isn't it?"
"Third generation versus twelfth… of course, the difference in sheer power is really obvious, but Kaw didn't have anyone to rely on, he rose from the very bottom by himself. He might not even have a Crest, but his drive is something else, and he's a quick learner. Von Weitl, on the other hand, got his knowledge and social station along with the Crest, as if it's the most natural thing in the world, so he doesn't really value though things. He might be overflowing with Circuits and all the experience the dynasty managed to accumulate, but for all his posturing, he's still a greenhorn. Besides, he's basically two or three centuries behind the rest of us, which reflects poorly on his ability to function in today's world."
Ascol walked over to the large iron doors and slightly pushed them.
"Last time I'd been here… hm. Too long ago, now that I think of it. Don't remember just who was fighting that time around, but I'm quite sure they had to scoop up the loser from the floor."
"I don't think today's event will be so barbaric," Touko chuckled. "I think poor dolls will suffer through the brunt of it."
The medium-sized ring with iron floor offered no respite from the blinding lamp light. The walls were plated with metal too, as far as Ascol was aware, though there was a thin layer of some seemingly soft grey fabric covering them. The room had two doors on opposite ends. Any mage that decided to watch the duel could do so from the safety offered by a loge that was hiding above the ring and behind a single pane of bulletproof glass that was boasting a mind-boggling number of protective enchantments.
Ascol took a seat in the left corner of the first row, in front of the glass. Here, at least, he could smoke. Currently Katt didn't have any company: Touko went for a seat in the middle of the row, where she was talking with two sinister types, and Kirik's politeness caused him to shoot himself in the foot – he let everyone go ahead until there weren't any places to seat in left, so the candidate was on the crowd's fringe and had to strain to see anything at all. So far Ascol didn't know whether his temporary solitude was for better or for worse.
"They are coming," Someone whispered.
The audience started freeing up the space for the challengers to go through so quickly, it might as well have been sliced in two. Of course, there were other ways to get to the ring, but many a duellist used this chance to show off. After all, not everyone got another one…
Two staff members opened the doors. All eyes were on the still empty doorway.
"The twelfth head of the von Weitl family, Just!" One of the employees rasped.
And yet, no one came through.
A couple minutes passed. Murmurs of displeasure started breaking out.
"What the hell-"
"Who the hell does he think he is?"
"Did he run away?"
"I have plans for today, so-"
Suddenly a frightened looking young man in a gray suit showed up.
"I beg your pardon, gentlemen. We are experiencing some technical difficulties."
"Technical difficulties? What the hell are you talking about?" Someone shouted.
"Just von Weitl is, erm… stuck in the elevator."
The crowd burst laughing.
Like father, like son. Astonishing.
Ascol stood up and considered trying to get to the doors, but then some clatter rang out on the other end of the hallway, along with loud swearing in German. Katt decided he could do without witnessing that pitiful spectacle and sat down once more.
The voices died down. Footsteps resounded in the hallway.
"The twelfth head of the house von Weitl, Just!" The staff member announced once more, stifling laughter. This caused everyone to turn their heads, Ascol included.
A young man stood in the doorway. His scrawny, unshapely figure reminded one of a wild plant: narrow torso, lanky hands in white gloves… He had a pale, haggard face – a part of it was obscured by hideously disheveled black hair that was long enough to reach the shoulders. His costume was an opposite of revealing: black longcoat over his shoulders which had tails dragging across the floor and gathering dust, grey shirt under a dark suit jacket, old-fashioned black trousers. That ensemble would look great by standards of the eighteenth century or thereabouts. It was quite nicely capped off by a pair of lacquered winklepickers and a handkerchief large enough to serve as a parachute that was sticking out of his pocket. To his right stood a tall figure in a dark cloak that started covering its face with a hood twice as diligently when everyone started watching the couple.
Having taken a closer look at the new arrival, Ascol let out a sigh.
He's still just as uptight as I remember. And even easier to mistake for a bean pole. Jesus, does he eat nothing but dust?
"Guten Abend, meine Damen und Herren (1)," Just said quietly, straightening his sleeves. "Just von Weitl, zu Ihren Diensten. Ich versuche, Ihre Zeit nich vergeblich zu vergeuden (2)."
For a couple of moments Ascol was under impression that his voice was quivering a little.
He's definitely nervous. Well, anyone would be in his shoes. Buthehasn't lost his cool so far.
And the opposite wouldn't be surprising, especially after the elevator fiasco.
The audience went abuzz with movement and whispers. A few loud greetings rang out. The majority of present magi definitely favored the German, though Ascol didn't think they particularly liked him. Rather, they didn't think much of his opponent.
Having muttered something, Just and his companion walked past the crowd, quickly vanishing out of sight. Now they were supposed to reappear in the ring.
"Arthur Kaw, the third-"Apparently, the announcer couldn't make himself refer to a magus without even a Crest as a family head, so the rest of that announcement drowned in dry coughing.
The doors once again came open with a bang, and another set of participants walked in. A tall, wide-shouldered man in a rugged leather jacket and a wrinkled shirt with unbuttoned collar projected moxie and confidence, in stark contrast to spindly, frail looking Just.
So, those arms are prosthetics?
If I didn't know better, I couldn't tell them from the original.
Damn… looks like the von Weitl name and "quality" haven't become any less synonymous yet.
Having loosened his fingers with dry snaps, Kaw waved to the audience, eliciting only few scattered words of approval in response. The magus was followed by his weapon – the doll's disguise was so faulty that one couldn't miss all the inconsistencies: empty eyes, arms having different length, texture of the artificial skin... every little detail betrayed fakeness. The doll's hair was short; its expressionless face was modeled after some middle-aged, scarred man, "Third rate," Someone remarked.
"Just like its master," A whispered response followed.
Ascol snorted. He sure could see why this crowd wanted the German to win. Stuck in the previous century (or even the one before that) as he might be, he was the very picture of an honorable and dignified magus in comparison with his opponent.
So this is going to be a battle of a snappy mutt and a snotty peacock…
Katt thought that von Weitl wouldn't be his favorite if he didn't need the German alive and well. The executor has seen so many arrogant clods in his lifetime that they caused his gag reflex to go full throttle…
"At your service," Arthur answered, not trying to hide his derision. "Don't you worry, beating this wimp won't take long."
Kaw gestured to his doll and they started going downstairs.
The spectators started going back to their seats. The lamps' light seemed to have gron even brighter.
"I hope he'll gut the bumpkin."
"I'd rather watch both of them go tits up. God, they piss me off."
The duelists slowly came out to the ring. The lanky magus was already there, busy with droning about something; the glass was muting all the sounds, but speakers, affixed to the walls, did a fine job of relaying them.
"Are there grounds for reconciliation?" The mediator was rasping in a token attempt to settle the matter peacefully.
"The hell there are," Kaw smirked. "He's got no one else to blame. And you better get this through your cabbage head, you kraut-"
"You aren't allowed to address each other directly until the duel is over," The gaunt man intervened. "Mister Kaw, please, keep yourself in check."
"Fine, fine," The magus raised his hands and moved back. "I do respect the rules of your establishment."
"I hope that's the case. Herr von Weitl, if I may… your weapon, please."
"Sicher. Jutte, Ihre Zeit (3)."
The Just's attendant tore their cloak off in one swift, dramatic motion.
"So that's why he didn't let anyone near her!" Katt heard Touko say. "I should have guessed."
Arthur's unsophisticated familiar looked more than a little fake, but the same couldn't be said of the von Weitl's work; at the very least, no inconsistencies caught Ascol's eye. It wouldn't be surprising if magic were the only way to tell she wasn't human. The doll was even taller than its master, if only a bit, and her apparel was just as opulent, dark and old-fashioned as his: it was comprised of a black gown, embroidered with an intricate monogram and boasting lacy sleeves; there were black ribbons in her hair. Her pale face was astonishing in its cold beauty, and her grey icy eyes flickered red for an almost imperceptible moment.
"You got your familiars mixed up or something?" Arthur quipped. "This isn't a dance party, you know."
"Wie wagst du, Meister Just so anzusprechen (4)?" The doll's voice was seething with rage. "Ich lasse dich deine Worten bereuen, du Kettenhund!" (5)
"Can you speak a human language?" Kaw sneered. "I understand jack all."
"Gentlemen, please," The haggard man cut in once more. "Take your positions."
Arthur gave the German one dirty look and made three steps back. Just followed suit.
"The duel will continue until blood is drawn or either familiar is destroyed," The announcer reminded them, walking over to the wall. "Begin, gentlemen."
"Smash her to pieces," Arthur growled.
Kaw's puppet started moving, but Just didn't seem bothered: he just took a small watch on a chain from his pocket, opened its lid and took a look at the time. "
"You gonna fight, or what?" Kaw shouted, drawing attention of the German magus and his doll. Just looked him in the eyes and smiled.
"Es gibt zwei Menschenarten auf der Welt, mein Freund. Diejenigen, die Prothesen mit Sprengstoff verkaufen, und diejenigen, die verlieren," He replied coldly, flipping a small tumbler on his watch. "Sie verlieren (6)."
The ensuing explosion was so strong that even the bulletproof glass pane shook, despite supposedly having been imbued by the most advanced protective magic known to the local magi. The audience members have already left their places – everyone, Ascol included, was already standing by the window.
Smoke dissipated slowly.
Soon they could see a bloodied heap of meat that used to be Arthur Kaw, mindlessly sitting on the floor. His bleeding, sparking arm stumps were twitching convulsively. The American magus' familiar stood still. Apparently, it couldn't process the battle's outcome and was still deciding whether it should move.
Just closed the lid of is watch with a distinctive sound.
"First blood!" The gaunt staff member quickly managed to overcome the initial shock. "The victory belongs to von Weitl. The duel is over, gentlemen."
They had to knock on the door for quite a while. At first they couldn't get any response, but then they managed to draw attention of the doll, who sounded pretty annoyed. Apparently, she spoke English quite decently.
"We are busy! What do you want?"
"I would like to see Just. This is urgent!" Ascol himself was pretty irritated by that point.
Nevertheless, they had to deal with waiting for more than an hour since the duel's end. Maimed, shell-shocked and seemingly insane Arthur Kaw had to be taken somewhere along with his familiar by one of his few friends. Ascol heard that Just pushed the American over the edge by offering a business card and telling him to call after getting out of the hospital so that they could discuss prospect of making new arms at a bargain price. That was when the hapless magus started screaming so loudly that the staff had to sedate him. His nemesis, meanwhile, has spent more than an hour cooped up in his suite. And they didn't have much time left.
"Just! Don't make me break the damn door down!" Ascol growled.
They heard some rustle, then footsteps, and then the door slowly opened.
The sole scion of the von Weitl family was sitting on a sofa, wrapping himself in his coat and sipping from a cup of coffee. Pale fingers of his other hand were drumming on a soft leather arm rest. His loyal doll was at his side, looking warily at the uninvited guests.
"Huh? Wersind Sie (7)?" The young magus asked quietly, raising his head. "WasbrauchenSie (8)?"
"Name's Fabius Roch," Ascol rasped. "I worked with your father once. Don't remember me?"
"Nein. Uberhaupt nicht (9)."
"Well, I remember you alright," Katt slowly entered the room. "I do understand that right now might not be the best time for this conversation, but time is something I have in short supply. Can you spare ten minutes?"
"S-sure. Should… should I, maybe, to English switch?" The magus had a strong accent and seemed to struggle when it came to producing coherent sentences.
"That'd be great. Kirik, come in," Having let the candidate inside, Katt shut the door. "I'll get straight to the point, if you don't mind."
"If you here because of Father's debts are, gave he everything away," The tired magus muttered, setting the cup aside and rubbing his temples. "Shortly… shortly before his death."
"Not everything, oh no," Ascol fished out a small ring of fogged metal with a tiny jewel and let it drop on the table. "Here's the reason we do have something to talk about."
"This is-" The magus grabbed the ring with his left hand and started slowly fiddling with it. "It belonged to my-"
"I don't care about any of that, so save your breath," Ascol cut him off. "Neutgart left me this so that I could contact your family if anything came up and I needed any special assistance."
"Wait-" After a short spell of silence, Just collected himself and forced another broken and not too coherent English sentence. "You say... you... I remember-"
"I helped your father to deal with a hunter who wanted to lay his hands on some stuff from your family vaults. Then there was that gig with a bunch of puppet makers. Though Miss Aozaki proved to be much more useful there."
"Don't want to hear of her," The magus muttered. "I have had enough of this walking ashtray; will be of her for a long time, forever sick. I am sorry. Can the smoking not stand."
"Unlike blowing people up, apparently."
"His own fault," Just shrugged. "Amerikanischer Dummkopf."
"How did he manage to survive at all? The explosion should have been powerful enough enough to blow him apart."
"It is simple. There was no much explosive, and I used a little blocking magic, the explosion inside the prosthetics to keep."
"That was the plan?"
"Of course. There is no point, my prospective client to kill. I need money, not corpses."
And here I thought Aozaki was greedy…
"What do you need of me? I admit, this is our ring. Father used to say, oh yes. That the giver a friend of our family be will, so am I obligated, to listen. What kind of help do you need? I… I am in a difficult position now-"
"I can see that," Ascol leaned on the wall. "Do you get challenged like that often?"
"Nein. I try, nobody to provoke. Nobody, but-" Just fell silent and then continued, sounding much more meek. "You must have an idea of how it works here. Have to take it all. All the filth. The muck I have to wallow in. These… these vultures, they know, that I alone am. The last our dynasty's. And many want… you understand."
"They want to crush the last von Weitl under their heel and learn the secret to your family magic," Ascol sighed. "Am I right?"
"Indeed. So I… I try, around such people no time to spend, but sometimes can I it not help. Then have I act to like a… well, you have just seen. If one as strong and cruel as them look does not, wipe they the floor with you, or drag you through the mud. Power. That is the one thing they need. But what might you want?"
Now it was Ascol's turn to remain silent for a few minutes. Neutgart's personality was cold and stern, sometimes to the point of cruelty. He never lost his cool and always acted like a true man of business. The nervous, sickly and sullen teen that was sitting in front of him, on the other hand didn't look like the sole scion of a once great dynasty. At all.
But he could act like one when he wanted. Ascol saw it just an hour ago.
"This doll…" Ascol looked at the familiar. "Your handiwork?"
"Jutte?" The German called out. "This man ist a good acquaintance of my father. Greet them."
"Good evening, gentlemen. Master Just doesn't doubt you, but I sure do," The doll seemed wary. "Don't come close."
"She's… is she sentient?" Kirik couldn't hide his surprise.
"Should I ask the same of you?" She answered.
"Please, please none need for that," Just interjected in a placating tone. "She ist my weapon, driver, enforcer and friend. But sometimes gets she carried away."
"Didn't think that hard about naming her, did you?" Katt snorted.
"Sometimes plays she the heir," Just sighed. "Or my sister. Helps very much to deal with unwanted eyes, unwanted questions, unwanted situations-"
"I can see the resemblance, there's no denying it," Ascol barely managed to stop his hand from grabbing a pack of cigarettes inside his pocket. "What happened to Neutgart? I heard about some accident-"
"He… he and my mother have been dead for a long time. Left and never came back."
"How'd you managed to survive?"
"Hausdolls saved me. For a while… I am ashamed, that to admit, but at first I didn't notice that my parents disappeared had. Was busy in my workshop."
"What have you been up to afterwards?"
"Many things," Just shrugged noncommittally. "I had luck, that my father me the Crest one year before his death transferred had. Our family does it very, very early, that is the best way to handle this. Then had I the father's connection to the Sea of Astray restored, they give me work. Much work. Dangerous, too."
"Your family's contacts in the Tomb are the reason I've been searching for you, actually," Ascol said. "I need someone to access the Sea of Astray for me."
"Why?"
"The entire Europe went apeshit, courtesy of one Albert Blach. Heard anything about him?"
"The Blachs perishing?" Just sounded somewhat surprised. "Yes, it is discussed a lot. They say, the bounty for this... murderer's head very grand ist. You, it seems, have also tempted become? Good for you, yes, but I have nothing to do with that. Not going to involve myself!"
"And why is that?"
"Too dangerous. I am a freelancer. Only do work for the Tomb when there personal interest is, the profit!" The German laughed. "Here, there is a huge risk, yet little profit to be made, I think. And the Blachs don't interest me. Beg your pardon, this isn't the way, for me the debt of my father to repay."
"I'm not asking you to hunt him. I could use some information, though. The kind one can only get from the Sea of Astray, I'm afraid."
"What might that be?"
"Ever heard of a barrier that reflects any threat? Be it bullets or spells – nothing gets through it. Even worse, it magnifies the reflected attack manifold. Some traps that aren't designed to cause direct harms aren't affected, though. Sounds familiar?"
"No. But I could ask around if you really needed that."
"Sounds swell. When can you start?"
"I'll get to it. Only need to take care of something first-"
Ascol grew wary. Something was wrong. The magus stopped mangling sentences; his speech suddenly became much clearer and easier to understand.
"I think I should walk out and announce to the whole club there are two agents of the Church right here, my dear Father Katt Ascol," The stupid German accent was gone altogether. "What do you think will happen then?"
The moment Just finished talking, his doll was already poised to attack, hidden compartments in her forearms snapping open to reveal two blades she grabbed instantly.
So that's how it's gonna be…
Kirik threw himself to the side, but Ascol was still sitting still – a casual observer could even decide he was relaxed.
"How long have you known?" Katt drawled slowly.
"Father didn't like being indebted to anyone," Just answered coldly. "And he always checked background of anyone he worked with. Especially if the person in question were as suspicious as you. It only took two months to establish that Fabius Roch, a Prague Association member, had been dead since way back, so he couldn't have disappeared without a trace only to arrange a miraculous return. This is why I received a warning: the one to return me this ring will be an agent of the Church. An executioner. A mage killer. Now, it's our turn to ask questions. Who bought you? Who wants you to kill me?"
"That's some textbook paranoia, boy," Ascol let out a raspy laugh in an attempt to mask his genuine rage. "Not to mention your delusions of grandeur. Sure, you can continue throwing a fit. You might make some noise or even call the security. But don't kid yourself –nothing you could come up with can stop me from breaking your neck, just like that. Mind, your iron maiden seems to be perfectly capable of bisecting my head, so it looks like we're in a stalemate. But I know a way out, only you'll have to drop the "Big Bad Magus" act."
"You-"
"You know who I am. Trust me, if you were a true magus, you wouldn't waste any time threatening, you'd strike first. But you are afraid of me, of what do you suspect I can do. Besides, for all your posturing aren't as much of a bastard as your father was. You didn't even finish Kaw off, only took the prosthetics he didn't want to pay for."
"So, what's the plan?" Just slowly leaned on the seatback, his face growing tense and his hands twitching, if barely noticeably.
"First, you gotta listen to me. Calmly and without dramatics. Yeah, your Dad did a great job, got his facts straight. But so what? I still saved his life, you still aren't my target. Blach's head would make for a better prize."
"Am I supposed to believe you, just like that?"
"Why, of course not. But I can make my offer much more convincing. See, you folks aren't the only bunch with a knack for investigating people."
"What do you mean?"
"I know what happened to August Leandres von Weitl," Ascol smiled, watching Just's face distort as the magus heard him. "The Church knows his story much better than everyone else. Should we stand before the esteemed public together? You could tell them who we are, I could open their eyes to the fact that the generation countdown of your dynasty had been broken once and had to be restarted, so you are only the seventh family head?"
"Verdammt! You've known that, too?"
"I do my job thoroughly," Ascol smirked.
"Not thoroughly enough," The magus answered after calming himself a little. "At least the eighth, if we go by how much knowledge has been restored by now. And-"
"Doesn't change that much," The executor interrupted him. "Should I continue digging up the dirty laundry of your doll crazed family, or are you going to fess up and keep the Niedhard's promise like a honest magus you are?"
"Fine," Just gestured his doll to stand down. "Your conditions?"
Cars weren't Ascol's area of expertise, but a single glance at Just's car was enough to tell him it had been a high-end vehicle, a definite classic. "Had been" being the operative words: right now this black dilapidated bucket of bolts looked more than a little depressing. Its dirty windows, scratches and dents didn't help.
"Can you drive?" Katt asked, as he was looking over the unlucky auto.
"Only around the estate. Jutte takes the wheel in the city."
"Thank God," Executor muttered, being completely sincere. "How long do we have to wait?"
"You visited us before, did you not? Outside the city limits, then along the highway, then… what's-its-name… the forest-"
"Fine," Katt got inside the car. "Will anybody mind me smoking?"
"Yes!" Just, Kirik and the doll said in unison.
"Sadists," Katt muttered, reaching for his phone. "Oh well…"
Having quickly dialed the number he needed to call, the executor frowned slightly when he heard Koss' snarky tone.
"I thought you guys got busted," The alchemist greeted him. "When are you coming back?"
"We managed to establish contact," Ascol's reply was curt. "We'll be back tomorrow. Has Whisper gotten in touch with you yet?"
"She has. Looks like she's after one of the Hollow's boys. Picked up his trail. Of course, we need to verify the info but-"
"Keep me informed."
"You think I have another choice?"
The car was agonizingly slow – the doll flat out refused to run red lights and somehow managed to get stuck in every traffic jam. No conversation was flourishing, but Ascol preferred watching the passersby anyway. He was looking at their faces flying by, intent on finding someone among them…
If she hadn't lied…
The root of his interest went back to the night he came to after the failed attempt to cath the Hollow.
It happened after Kirik left, whom Katt sincerely thanked for his help. After Whisper left, tryng to hide just how worried she was. After Renier left, his wounds already hidden under that creepy "glass" of his. Even after Torch and the Atlas agent were gone, both still trying to outbrag the other.
Ascol was already nodding off when she climbed through the sixth story window.
Or maybe she flew in?
He rose slightly on his elbows, trying to turn the bedside light on, but he was instantly stopped.
"No need, Father Katt."
"What are you doing here?"
"Don't you know?" Her voice was still devoid of emotion. "I am following your group. I am not supposed to intervene unless the situation is ctitical; I am only here to gather data on Blach."
"Have… have you seen the fight?"
"Yes. I'm sorry. I wanted to help you, but I am explicitly prohibited to interfere. We had to see Blach in action and process the information."
"So… what do you think?"
"We need to learn the trick to his shield if we want to get anywhere. I am breaking a direct order of the Bureau head by talking to you, but I have something you need to hear. These are just tidbits, but they still might help."
"I'm all ears."
"We consulted the earliest sources dealing with the Sphere. If those are to be trusted, the secret to its activation might have been discovered before. Apparently, it was enough to make magi abort their experiments and move the Sphere to the lower levels."
"So, it is possible Blach didn't come up with all that by himself."
"There is a chance someone gave him recommendations. Someone who got the ball rolling nad helped him uncover the Sphere's secrets. At least, that's what the First thinks. In her opinion, Blach is just a pawn."
"The question is, what's his game? Is he a loyal follower or has he set his eyes on a promotion?"
"That's not the end of it, Father Katt. Those sources… if what they say is true-"
"What is it?"
"Albert Blach might be possessed. And I don't mean by things like those we deal with on a regular basis. You should be extremely careful around him."
"Am I correct in assuming you are here to make sure we don't off him?"
"That was the case, at first. You refused the Bureau's help when we made the offer, so the First sent me behind your back. She said it was a part of the training. But when I learned Blach might be possessed, I decided you had to know."
"Why?"
Silence.
"I have to go."
"Wait," Ascol rose slightly, his teeth grating from hideous back pain. "Is that something I said?"
"No, I was the one who said many things I shouldn't have? Forgive me."
"What for? Wait!"
"I can't say anything else that could be of use."
And then he remembered.
She? Just skin, shed by the Serpent of Akasha.
"Hell. You think… I don't know what exactly happened to you, but do you think that's what fate has in store for Blach?"
Silence.
"Did you also use to be possessed?"
"In a way. I can't discuss that with you."
"Is it true, what your bass said? About taking your life-"
"I have to go."
"Wait. Let me say one more thing."
"What might that be?"
"You know, I was once told that it's easier to tell the most nightmarish things to a complete outsider. I could listen to you, if you want. I can't fall asleep anyway."
"You don't need to hear it."
"But you might need to share it. Anyway, I doubt the Bureau would care what you might think. They seem to be more preoccupied with inventing fun new ways to kill you."
"That's my fault. I shouldn't have returned to this world."
"What's up with that nonsense?"
"They said my very existence was an affront against the Lord. A mistake. They try to solve this paradox. They-" Her voice grew numb. "They've been trying… for several months in a row, without any breaks."
Ascol was silent. He just didn't know what to say.
"Procedure forty two. Dismemberment and decapitation. Failure. Procedure forty three. Harvesting brain, eyes and all the vital organs. Failure. Procedure sixty eight. Incineration. Failure. Procedure eighty eight. Decomposing the subject alive. Failure. Procedure four hundred and five. Dropping the subject from high altitude. Procedure six hundred and fourteen-"
"Enough. Why? Why do you remember it?"
"How could I forget anything? This is my penance. For not being able to resist and leaving that room. I knew that I wasn't allowed to go outside, that doing so would turn me into something terrible. I managed to hold it back for three weeks. Maybe slightly longer, can't remember. Then I went outside. The first thing I… the first thing he did was to quench his thirst with my family. Then with others. The entire village."
"Do you know who he was?"
"There is no way I wouldn't. He was inside of me. He was me. He was thwarted yet again, but he will soon return. We don't know for sure when or where. But by the time he's back I should be prepared to confront him. The eighteenth incarnation will be his last. It has to be. That's the only way I can leave."
"How do you even destroy such a monster?"
"We're working on it. I was promised a weapon. One day I'll get to use it."
None of the two enjoyed the oppressive silence that hung in the air after those words.
"Now you understand why I couldn't stay silent about Blach's possession. Maybe he's like me. Maybe the real Albert Blach is screaming deep inside, begging whatever controls his body to stop."
"If that's the case-"
"You'll free him. Forever. If you promise me that much, I won't get in your way."
"I'm an executor, not an exorcist. We kill, not banish or save. That's the only thing we should know how to do."
"I read bits and pieces of your file, whenever the First left it on the table."
"Anything interesting?"
"Blizzard. Tell me about it. It's easier with an outsider, isn't it?"
Damn it.
Damn it thrice.
"Fine," Ascol sighed heavily. "Have it your way. When were you born?"
"Seventy six. But what does it-"
"Do you know about the Cold War?"
"Not much. They do pump information into it, but it's mostly work related-"
"The agency known as "The Leningrad Club" was founded in the beginning of the twentieth century. It cannibalized almost all of Russian magical organizations. Their versions of the Association, if you may. At first the Club was thought to be yet another such attempt… but the truth was far worse than that. Especially as far as we're talking about the one who ran the whole shebang."
He almost managed to expunge the name from the memory, but now it was once again tormenting his memory like a searing hot needle.
Kai.
"There was something in your file about them… the military-"
"A bunch of obsessed military commanders was but a part of their Directorate. Might sound a bit funny, but that organization that dedicated so much time and effort to dealing with magic and all things to do with it, was headed by ordinary people. Of course, the esteemed magi didn't miss their chance. Basically, their management was comprised of two groups which often had different goals but had to rely on each other's resources to get anything at all done. The magical wing wanted to destroy the Association. Some seeked revenge for the old slights, other planned on cleaning up their living room… you do know that the more people know about magic, the more it struggles, right?"
"More or less."
"Maybe they wanted to remain the only magi in the world. After all, I can't know for sure. But I do know that the mundane leadership wasn't so petty. Their goals didn't stop at ensuring the USSR victory in the Cold War and ushering in an age of Soviet supremacy, they also wanted to cleanse the world of everything they viewed as supernatural threat. That is, everything that was different from humans in any way, shape or form. Of course, their desire to rid us of vampires and hybrids is praiseworthy, but mages were also on the list. And their endgame included revealing existence of magic to the masses so that it would continue to decay and, eventually, disappear altogether. Just because. They thought it would be unacceptable in a humanity-run world. Of course, those guys didn't exactly adore the Church."
"Were they planning to take on the entire world?"
Worse. Worse than anything you could imagine. Kai-
"Yes. The Club had two branches: Aurora and Atropos. The former brought gifted children from all over the USSR to their research facilities, where they went through the harshest testing process imaginable. The survivors became the Club's elite, ready to kill and, if necessary, to die for it. Magi, ESP, all manner of gobbledygook… they used whatever they could lay their hands on. And the Atropos was supposed to exact vengeance upon the world. That's where the really scary stuff was. That's where we got sent. We were supposed to extract the Club's greatest treasure."
"What was it?" The Seventh asked, clearly engrossed in his story.
"A planetary terminal. Prince Snowstorm."
Notes.
1. Good evening, ladies and gentlemen.
2. Just von Weitl, at your service. I won't keep you here for long.
3. Of course. Jutte, it's your turn.
4. How dare you speak to Master Just like that?
5. You'll come to regret those words, you gutter trash.
6. There are two types of people, my friend. Those who sell explosive prosthetics and losers. You are a loser.
7. Huh? Who are you?
8. What do you need?
9. No, not at all.