The Silent Deal (The Card Game #1)

Ch 17 - R.E. Kamdrac

CHAPTER 17

R.E. KAMDRAC

 Romulus leaned up against the door. “I’m Romulus. My friend is Viktor. We’d like to meet you, sir.”

 A moment passed in silence. “Why’ve you come here?”

“To talk … We’re friends of Lady Nutrix.”

The door burst open to reveal an older man with bushy white hair and a thick mustache. His gaze moved downward, as he had not expected his guests to be youths. For half a second, Kamdrac’s eyebrows furrowed on his square face, and then he hurriedly waved the boys inside. His wrinkled eyes swept the hill: Seeing no one else, he shut the door, sighing as if a weight had been lifted off his chest.

“Are you … expecting someone?” Viktor asked.

“Expecting? Ho—no, I haven’t had visitors for ages—except if you count window-breaking vandals and the occasional rat.” A vacant expression covered his face, as if he’d already forgotten he had guests. He blinked. “But any friend of Saga Nutrix is a friend of mine! Great fortune-teller, that Saga—she used to be good friends with my daughter …”

Romulus watched the man’s wistful expression in puzzlement. Viktor took the opportunity to scan the cabin, which stank of stale wine and musty parchment. Scrolls, ink, trash, and rotted food made a mess of every surface. The bedsheets nailed over broken windows cast a gloomy mood. Farther away, large wooden and iron apparatuses groaned.

Kamdrac glanced back, apparent pride written on his face. He rubbed his greasy hands on the front of his old-fashioned suit. “Well, come, come, it’s not often I get to show off my printing press!”

At least we’ve solved the mystery of the mechanical horror house, Viktor thought, feeling pity for the man who’d been slandered by rumors. Even now, Kamdrac seemed more desperate to keep his company entertained than learn the reason for their visit. At least this will get him talking.

And talk Kamdrac did. He jabbered on and on about the printing process, showing the boys how to press iron typeface against parchment and, in doing so, print paper with the wet ink of new words.

“And there you have it—as if Gutenberg himself did the job!”

“But what language is this?” asked Viktor, staring from the cryptic words to the machine, which he decided was basically a giant stamp.

“Ah, blind me! It’s French, though I have Russian typeface also. Woefully Romani doesn’t work so well, seeing as your dialect has no written format.”

Viktor traded a knowing look with Romulus. With their wild appearances and reference to Lady Nutrix, Kamdrac had mistaken them for Gypsies—a mistake that might prove valuable in their attempt to gather knowledge.

Thus Romulus began his manipulation, the skill he did so well. Questions flew about movable type and printing-press design, and once he’d won Kamdrac over with praise, he asked the question that moved the attack onward.

“But books aren’t all you print. Don’t you make cards, too? Lady Nutrix told me in private that R.E. Kamdrac decks are the best she’s ever used.”

Kamdrac ran his hand though his wiry white hair, streaking it with grease. “Yes, R.E. Kamdrac—that’s what they used to call me. It’s been years since I’ve heard it spoken aloud … the card-maker—R.E. Kamdrac …”

“Is that not your name?” asked Romulus.

“It is my name, but one self-given.”

“You changed your name?”