I love this story to pieces.
Chapter Two: An Unwanted Guest
Flip. Pat. "Merde." Sigh. Flip. Pat. "Merde!" Sigh. Flip. Pat. "Merde!" Sigh.
"Maybe," Clopin murmured to himself as he sat amongst the bones in the catacombs, "I shouldn't have used a double-sided coin..." he examined the coin, "when deciding who was going to patrol the area."
"I could have told you that," Gophan murmured to him from a dark corner near the king. Because he was so large, only his head was visible beneath the skeletons, whereas Clopin was disguised as an actual skeleton. The friends were kept company by two other gypsies who were stupid enough to volunteer to be on their king's side when the coin toss took place.
Clopin sneered. "Well, you didn't, did you?"
One of the gypsies grabbed Clopin's arm suddenly. "Someone's coming," he said in a hushed tone.
The four of them watched as a young lady—obviously not a gypsy—cautiously sloshed through the sewage, using a torch to light her way. When she passed them, Gophan quietly emerged from the bones, Clopin silently slipped off the skulls and crouched on the ground in a spider-like position, and the other two gypsies tip-toed after the trespasser, wielding cutlasses.
Gophan motioned to the other gypsies hiding further down the catacombs, and Clopin quietly snickered to himself. He absolutely loved ambushes; he rarely got a chance to participate in any because he was either ill or nobody was wise enough to find the Court of Miracles.
The trespasser was certainly beautiful; she had long blonde hair that was tied up in a precarious knot on the back of her head, and her eyes were emerald and searching. She wore an overcoat that appeared to belong to a man, and she lowered her hood as Clopin approached her from behind. Grinning, the King of the Gypsies blew the torch out with an effortless wave of his hand.
The gypsies hidden in the catacombs shrieked with eerie laughter as they lit their own torches and ran up to the unfortunate woman. They tied her hands behind her back and threw her to the ground.
"So tell me," Clopin drawled, crossing his arms and examining the fingertips of his gloves, "where in the world did you think you were going, lovely?"
The woman growled at him. "Leave me the hell alone," she spat.
"I asked you a question."
"And I demanded you a response!"
Clopin quirked an eyebrow at Gophan, who lifted the woman to her feet and shoved her towards him. Clopin held his dagger to her throat.
"Don't get tactless now," he chimed in her ear. "You wouldn't want to lose that pretty little head of yours, would you?" He glanced at his best friend. "What's your name?"
The woman hesitated. "Iris Envey."
"And what is your purpose down here? Do you know where you are?"
"Who are you?" Iris asked facetiously. "I tend to prefer knowing the name of my potential assassinator."
Clopin smirked. "I, my dear, am Clopin Trouillefou." He pressed the blade to her throat more. "Now answer my questions. What is your purpose down here?"
"I know about your son."
There was a collective gasp from the gypsies, including Gophan, who took a step backwards in shock.
"Interesting," Clopin muttered, throwing Iris to the ground again. "How did you know I have a son?"
"Because I know someone's planning on murdering him."
This rendered the gypsy king frighteningly silent.
"What?" He asked finally.
Iris sighed, frustrated. "I know someone is going to kill your son."
"But why?! Nobody can commit murder in a cathedral!" He suddenly glared, having realized he gave too much away. "You're lying to me," he snarled.
"I'm not lying!" Iris screamed as a gypsy wrapped a cloth around her head, covering her mouth. Gophan swung her over his shoulder, and the gypsies proceeded to the Court of Miracles.
The noose was around Iris's neck; Clopin had an extraordinarily demonic grin on his face; his hands where on the lever...but he paused. He remained stock-still for a full thirty seconds, and he stared at the lever for so long his grin started to look false. He raised his eyes.
Gophan watched the back of Clopin's head, his arms crossed. He didn't care that his best friend was hesitating before the gallows—in fact, he knew there was a reason.
Clopin didn't disappoint him. The gypsy king suddenly turned and waltzed right up to Iris, ripping the gag off her mouth. He looked down at her with an almost drunken darkness in his eyes.
"Suppose you're telling the truth," he murmured, raising a coy eyebrow. "Do you have any knowledge of who, where, why, and how this is going to happen?"
Iris glared at him. "How am I supposed to know this?" She glanced at the others. "It's...it's just a rumor."
Clopin looked up at Gophan for his input.
"Then why," the older man queried, "did you risk your neck to search for Trouillefou?" The way he said Clopin's last name caused him to cringe slightly. "If it is, indeed, a rumor, then you had no reason to come down here."
Clopin reached for the lever.
"January sixth!!" Iris cried suddenly, causing the gypsy king to miss his aim for the lever and stumble forward, falling on his stomach on the wood of the platform and knocking the wind out of him. Gophan ambled towards him as Iris continued. "That's all I know."
Gophan helped Clopin to stand and held his arm until the smaller man inhaled sharply.
"Release her," he gasped, holding his stomach in pain. "You have to promise with your life not to mention a single word about the location of the Court of Miracles, am I understood?"
Iris rubbed her neck lightly as her arms were untied and the noose was removed. She nodded.
"You also have to come back with details. If you don't..." He found himself unable to finish the sentence. Shortly after the woman left, Clopin turned to Gophan. "January sixth is the Festival of Fools."
Gophan bit his tongue, frowning at Clopin. Something had to be discussed, and they both knew it had nothing to do with the Festival.
Clopin promptly wrenched his arm from Gophan's grip and disappeared in a small explosion of dark indigo smoke. He was more than upset; he was disconcerted and offended at the same time.
Right away Gophan knew something irrational was about to take place.