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Epilogue

The Golden Swan

Cobetsnya, Kolakolvia

Kristoph Vals


Petra eyed Kristoph from across the table at the Golden Swan. He did his best to ignore her, instead savoring the flavors of his roasted duck. There had been moments—more than a few—in the other world where he had thought never to taste this food again. Between the rosemary-crusted delicacy and the wine, the taste of travel rations was nearly gone.

“So you will submit to my authority?” Petra asked again.

Kristoph sighed, and gently place the knife and fork onto his plate. “Petra, dear, I have only just returned from a trip to another world. I barely survived creatures that would have most grown men and women pissing in their beds like newborns.”

“Quit your whining. You got a medal for it.”

“And now, apparently I have been reassigned to a brand-new section of the Directorate, which you are allegedly in charge of. Perhaps you could give me a few minutes to eat my duck and drink my wine?”

Petra nodded, and Kristoph picked up the silverware again. He had barely made a single cut when Petra said, “But you will submit?”

Kristoph was a very patient man. But not today.

“Petra, I do not give a Dead Sister’s damn about your new division of Directorate S. I will do my duty as I always have. You are not my superior. The Tsar and the Chancellor are. You may pretend all you like that you lord over me, because you are in charge of this new Section 8, whatever it is meant to be. That is fine. But I will execute my duties assigned to me as I see fit.”

“So long as you do you duty.”

“Power does not suit you, Petra. But I doubt you will have it long.”

“A threat?”

Kristoph smiled. “Why did you really call me here? I assume a poor job of gloating was not the only reason?” How quickly can I have her murdered without suspicion being cast my way?

“I didn’t call you here, Kristoph.” Petra nodded toward the entrance of the restaurant. “He did.”

Being led to their table was the Chancellor himself.

The two agents respectfully rose for their superior, while a servant pulled out a chair for him. The most powerful man in the empire sat, and then gestured for his subordinates to do the same. It was good that they had a private room, because even the elite of Cobetsnya would have come over to suck up to Nicodemus Firsch.

“Welcome home, Kristoph Grigorovich.”

“It is a pleasure to be home, Chancellor.”

“I read your report. Absolutely fascinating. I will have many questions for you about the other side.”

“And I will do my best to answer them.” Kristoph replied carefully to the despot he was plotting to destroy. “It was an honor to take part in such a glorious endeavor.”

“How is your wound?” The Chancellor gestured toward Kristoph’s new eye patch.

“It is fine.”

“He told me it hurts constantly,” Petra said.

Nicodemus nodded. “Your sacrifice has been noted. Now, to business. The mission of this new Section will be to directly aid me in my research. I have found several new avenues of magical exploration, which will require very special resources to exploit. This unit will be made up of my finest, handpicked agents. Your recent experience will make you invaluable for this endeavor. Petra Banic will serve as your Section Chief.”

“I am certain she will do a splendid job in the Tsar’s service.”

“If she does not, then I will replace her,” the Chancellor said, not even bothering to look at Petra. “Now, there is also the matter of you being assigned a new Cursed.”

“Indeed. My last Cursed became irrational and attempted to kill me . . . ” Kristoph decided to see what he could learn. Had the Chancellor intended to kill him, and then simply changed his mind? “At one point, the thought crossed my mind that maybe you had ordered Vasily to kill me. A foolish notion, I know, but regardless, one that I briefly experienced based upon his curious actions.”

The Chancellor’s smile showed his blackened teeth, and no kindness whatsoever. “I encourage paranoia among my agents, but no. If Vasily showed any contempt for you, it was because the exposure to the other side somehow awoke memories stored in deceased tissue. If I wanted you dead, Kristoph, you would simply die. Now let us bring in your new bodyguard.”

Spy is more like it. Kristoph thought.

“I believe I work better without one.”

“I disagree,” the Chancellor said. And that was that. He clapped his hands.

The new Cursed walked into the private dining room. As usual, the Chancellor preferred to use the corpses of tall and powerfully built men. The thing wore the usual blindfold, but despite that Kristoph immediately recognized who it had been because of the ghoul tattoo curling up his neck.

Arnost Chankov.

Kristoph was shaken. For once he spoke without choosing his words carefully. “What have you done? This man was a true hero and deserves better than have his body turned into . . . that.”

“You disagree with the Chancellor’s choice?” Petra asked.

Kristoph realized he needed to retain his calm. Surely Nicodemus had done this just to provoke him. “Those words never left my mouth, Petra.”

“That corpse was an asset which fit all the pertinent criteria.” The Chancellor waved one hand dismissively. “What does it matter?”

Kristoph was angry. Furious. His hands shook where they rested on his lap, so he gripped the cloth napkin there, tightening until his knuckles turned white. He had not thought his time with that group of soldiers had changed him, but evidently, he was wrong. Those men had honor, and while Kristoph did not see the point in honor for himself—honor was not a currency he traded in—he did see the value of it in others. He knew Illarion Glazkov would hate him for this, even though it was not Kristoph’s choice.

“This vessel is your new Cursed. I doubt you will have the same problems with it as you did with Vasily. I have made improvements on the latest crop.”

He made sure his voice and manner were completely under control when he asked, “And my assignment?”

“There will be new orders in time. However, as always I wish for you to focus your time and attention on finding Amos Lowe.”

Kristoph slowly nodded. Amos Lowe was hidden in a farmhouse just outside the city. Only two other people knew where Lowe was or why he mattered. As usual the Chancellor’s true thoughts were impossible to read, but Kristoph was certain Nicodemus wasn’t toying with him about the man’s location. He had no idea the end was near.

“Do you believe this is a task you could complete?”

Kristoph Vals smiled.

“I am sure I can manage.”

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