The Silent Deal (The Card Game #1)

Ch 11 - The Legend of the Leopard

CHAPTER 11

THE LEGEND OF THE LEOPARD

  

The Leopard. The name burned Viktor’s mind like a hot poker. He stared down at the cards on the table and watched Yanko win his seventh and final trick by beating Andrei’s nine of spades and Arseni’s king of diamonds with his seven of clubs, the trump suit.

The old boxing trainer smirked as he scooped up the boys’ coins. “Don’t repeat that tale, Zindelo. You know it’s cursed.”

Romulus let out a bark of a laugh. “Again with curses. It’s no wonder why you teach instead of train. You probably can’t even shadowbox—scared as you are by your own shade!”

“You insolent little braggart! If I didn’t want to win your money, I’d beat you to death in your chair,” Yanko spat.

Why, Romulus? Viktor groaned. Why do you have to make enemies with our only friends?

“Relax, you old punching bag,” said Romulus. He turned to Zindelo and smirked. “No one wants to hear you tell the story anyway, oh Mastered by Horses.”

Yes, we do. But go ahead, insult him and see if it helps.

“And why is that?” Zindelo sneered.

“Because Viktor and I know it well, and your Gypsy version probably butchers the tale with a cleaver knife!”

Yanko rose up from the table, but Zindelo’s heavy hand pulled the old man back down. He pointed at Romulus. “Against my better judgment, I’ll repeat the tale, serf. But only so your friends can see the depths of your stupidity.”

“Yes, show the boy his foolishness!” urged Yanko.

Viktor blinked. It was the first time he’d seen just how manipulative Romulus could be. He’d played both the men, and they had drunk just enough vodka to take the bait. Now Yanko packed and lit a long, curved tobacco pipe to smoke during the tale. The first cloud he blew in Romulus’ uninterested face.

“The Legend of the Leopard began decades ago,” said Zindelo, keeping his voice a grave whisper, “with a double murder—and not just any murder—but the murder of Lord and Lady Luski, the landowners of Aryk at the time. What made it more intriguing was the nature of the crime. Their nephew, Nocktayl, a boy who’d been sent to live with them years ago, was jealous that Lord Luski had treated one of the young house servants like the son he never had. Nocktayl’s anger drove him to murder. He was caught in cold blood, standing over the dead lord and lady, knife in hand. He, of course, was tried, found guilty, and sent off to a prison. But here’s where things became strange, because all through his trial, and even as he was carted away, the nephew insisted on his innocence. He blamed the crime on someone else. He said it was—”

“The Leopard,” said Romulus matter-of-factly to Andrei and Arseni, who were on the edge of their seats.

Zindelo slammed his hand on the table. “Don’t take the good parts!”

Viktor flashed Romulus a hot warning. If his guess had been wrong, the tale might have stopped there.

“Like I was saying,” growled Zindelo, “the citizens of Aryk had no idea they had witnessed the origin of a legend. They believed the odd ordeal over. Roman Talanov, a distant cousin, inherited Staryi Castle. Smart and cautious, he replaced all the house servants and set out to reestablish order. Yet soon Lord Talanov began to report bizarre occurrences. Objects changed places. Dead animals turned up in his bedroom. Footsteps followed him down the halls. One morning, he discovered orders on how to run Aryk scribbled in charcoal above his fireplace. Not a superstitious man, Lord Talanov scoffed at the marks. The next day … he woke up to himself covered in spots of black ink.”