Sicilian Defense

by Andrey Vasilyev

  “My compliments, Hagen. Time to go—they’re waiting for us.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  The final one, featuring conversations, conclusions, and doubts.

  “Some wine, my dear Miurat?” I gestured toward the jug. “It’s fantastic here, let me tell you. The ashik is going to start singing soon, and Ibrahim told me we’re going to enjoy all the East’s hottest songs. They even have Selgar Zindan, and you know what a hit that is.”

  “Thanks,” Miurat replied with a smile, “but Harald’s waiting for us. Let’s go, my friend, let’s go.”

  “Harald.” I polished off the rest of the ruby liquid in my glass and got up. “I imagine that’s your clan leader?”

  Miurat let me walk on ahead and fell in behind me. “Precisely. And, believe me, we’re better off not making him wait.”

  “I’m sure that’s very true as far as you’re concerned, though it doesn’t have much to do with me,” I noted. “He’s your boss, but he certainly isn’t mine. I’m a lone wolf—I go where I want.”

  “Nobody’s saying you don’t have the right to make your own decisions,” Miurat replied, as usual, trying to stay on good terms with everyone. “But he’s still a clan leader, so let’s show a little respect to someone who’s made something of himself in this world.”

  I could have said a few words about respecting the leader of a clan that breaks up raids and cuts the throats of unarmed players, but Miurat, clever dog that he was, would have come up with a dozen arguments about how the other players had asked the Double Shields to pull their shenanigans. So I held my tongue.

  The portal flashed, and I found myself in a small courtyard in front of a short building styled after Europe in the Middle Ages. Nearby were a few players, and around it stood a tall, stone wall.

  “A bit plain,” I noted.

  “Grandiosity isn’t what takes you places,” Miurat replied philosophically. “The more modest it is, the less attention it draws.”

  “Sure, sure,” I said—that wasn’t the first time I’d heard a similar sentiment.

  “We’re here to see Harald,” Miurat said to the players near the entrance as we walked inside. There was a corridor leading past a few rooms and stopping in front of an oak door.

  To my great surprise, the building really wasn’t that big. Huh. The clan is large enough, and they certainly have money…where’s the clan storage? The treasury? There were just half a dozen rooms there, with maybe the same number on the second floor… Wait a second. So this is…

  “You should have seen how your face just lit up,” Miurat said as he watched me. “You figured it out?”

  “Smart,” I replied, shaking my head. “Just a spot for meetings?”

  “Of course,” Miurat nodded. “Our clan isn’t a big fan of outsiders knowing where our main residence is. You know how people are sometimes. And so we have our meetings here, in this building. It’s convenient, and not such a big loss if somebody comes along and knocks it down.”

  “Sure,” I agreed. “Very prudent of you.”

  “Easy with the irony and sarcasm,” Miurat said seriously. “Harald isn’t like me—he doesn’t have a great sense of humor.”

  “That poor guy!” I said, feeling sorry for him. “He must lead a very boring life.”

  “Hagen, believe me, I would never wish evil on you, and, to the contrary, I really like you,” Miurat replied so seriously that I wanted to believe him. “But if you crack your jokes around Harald, his life will stay as boring as ever, while yours will get much more exciting.”

  “Okay, okay, don’t scare me like that,” I said, just as seriously. “All right, let’s go see your Harald. I have other things to do today.”

  Miurat knocked, waited for permission to go in, opened the door, and pushed me through.

  The room was small and austere, containing only a table, a few chairs, a cabinet, a couple paintings on the walls, and a lit fireplace. I saw someone standing by and watching the fire.

  “They say there are three things you could watch forever: fire, running water, and other people working,” Harald said with a deep, incredibly thoughtful voice. At least, I assumed that was him judging by the name over his head.

  Oh, how original and refreshing. An absolute breath of fresh air.

  “Sure,” I replied, “and that makes burning buildings the best spots for meditation.”

  I walked over to a chair and sat down.

  “Did I give you permission to sit down?” Harald asked in surprise.

  “Why should I wait for your permission?” I responded in kind. “It’s a chair, and they’re for sitting in—there’s nothing special about standing up.”

  “You apparently don’t realize that I’m in charge here.” Harald turned around and glared at me.

  “Let me repeat what I told your servant, Miurat,” I said with a serene smile. “He works for you, but I don’t. You wanted to talk to me. Okay, here I am, go ahead and talk. That’s what I’m here for; not to have you trying to cow me with cheap psychological tricks. If you have something interesting and useful for us both, let’s discuss it. If you don’t, we’ll shake hands and part ways. We can even hug it out if you want.”

  “I guess, you don’t understand that I could make sure you never leave this building,” Harald frowned.

  “Oh, come on, leave the gangster movies at home,” I replied with a dismissive wave. “Sure, my things would stay here, though I wouldn’t. Don’t try to scare me with how your clan would get its revenge, either. A clan likes me here, another doesn’t there…” Incidentally, I’d left everything I could back in my hotel room.

  Harald sat down across from me and stared at the bridge of my nose. Are you kidding me? This is the head of one of the game’s most ambitious clans? Something was up—the idiot in front of me couldn’t have been the calculating and pragmatic player he was supposed to be, not to mention the leader of a secret clan. I turned my gaze on the bridge of his nose, as well. It was an odd trick a friend had told me about a long time before: when you’re looking at the bridge of someone’s nose, they get the impression you’re looking them in the eye—though they can’t get a handle on your expression. It would have worked on someone who wasn’t in on it, getting their nerves all worked up, but you have to do better with me. I didn’t buy it, and I didn’t buy the fake leader, either. He obviously wasn’t the real thing. I wonder which picture he’s standing behind…or maybe he’s sitting?

  “Ah-ha, you blinked!” I yelled suddenly. The fake leader jumped. “You lose!”

  “You do realize–” Harald started with a frown.

  “Of course,” I sighed. “I realize how much time we’re wasting, and it’s a crying shame.”

  “Hagen, you’re being awfully disrespectful,” Miurat said softly from behind me.

  “This is how I act when people try to play me for a fool,” I said before loudly calling out. “Mr. Leader of the Double Shields, why don’t we actually talk? You’re the one who needs me, and not the other way around, right? What’s the point of our little farce here?”

  Harald twitched and opened his mouth to talk, though Miurat gestured for him to be quiet.

  “I told you he’s a smart one,” he said, smiling, to the air.

  There was no answer. I guess we won’t be chatting today after all. There was nothing for it—you can’t make people talk.

  “Let me just say that I won’t be coming to you next time; you’ll have to work around me,” I said, a bit rudely, if honestly. “Miurat, let’s go—the portal back is on you.”

  Miurat stood there for another thirty seconds waiting for something, until I finally heard what sounded like a clap of someone’s hands. Then, with a nod, he opened the door in front of me. I didn’t bother to say goodbye to the real leader, not to mention the fake one. He “isn’t here,” after all.

  “Of course, I’ll be happy to open a portal for you,” he said amiably. “Where would you like to go?”

  “To Selgar,” I repl
ied with a shrug. “Where else?”

  “Oh, I thought you’d want to head back to the Sumaki Mountains.” Miurat batted his eyebrows in feigned surprise. “You were there, weren’t you? Though something weird happened: you left the dwarf city on the ship, but you got to the city on the lake without it…”

  “What can you do?”

  “No, it’s not quite like that,” he said with a wink. “People don’t come from the caves. And yet, somehow you did.”

  “I took the river,” I said with round eyes. “Slowly, gently, along the current…”

  “And you beat the steamer,” Miurat continued. “Of course, I believe you.”

  “As well you should.” I gave him a smack in the shoulder. “We’re friends, and we should trust each other.”

  “Exactly!” Miurat opened the door leading out of the building. “That’s what I’m talking about. So tell me, as a friend, what’s it like in the caves? It’s still terra incognita down there—none of the players can get that far, not alone, not in a group, not even in a raid. It’s a bit hostile for our type.”

  Huh, I didn’t know that.

  “I have no idea,” I replied, arms spread wide. “I don’t! I fell overboard, just about drowned, and then found some side current parallel to the main river. It dumped me down waterfall after waterfall for two hours until my whole rear end was sore from the underwater rocks. Then, all of a sudden, it dropped me right into the shallows by the city. Seriously!”

  “Just like that?” Miurat clucked his tongue. “Wow. But hey, if that’s the way you said it went, then that’s what happened. You wouldn’t lie to your good buddy!”

  “Never! But how did you know I wasn’t on the steamer?” I asked innocently. “Were you there waiting for me when it arrived or something?”

  “Not me,” Miurat replied sadly. “Alas, I couldn’t. But I had some friends ready to meet you—you’re a good guy, and I wanted them to make sure nothing happened to you. It’s dangerous down there. If we had the chance to help a friend of the clan and a comrade in arms, I wanted to take it—that’s just who I am. Always looking out for my friends, come hell or high water.”

  “Of course, my friend.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “That’s the kind of person I am, too. Anyway, let’s see that portal.”

  Miurat pulled out a scroll, and a second later the blue film whooshed open in front of me.

  “Oh, there’s just one thing I don’t remember, my friend,” I said right before I stepped into the portal. “I can’t remember telling you where I was going. So how did you find out? Did you just follow your heart?”

  If there was an answer, I didn’t hear it, as I was taken to Selgar at the speed of thought.

  I probably could have gone straight to Agberdin. There was no point making a secret of something a good fifty people knew about, and there wasn’t anything to hide, anyway—Miurat already knew I was in with the inquisitors. But still, I didn’t want him trying to join us or anything like that. That kind of friend is best kept at arm’s length, because they’ll devour you the second you let down your guard.

  Figuring that Agberdin could wait for the next day, I headed for the hotel. I always liked logging out of the game from my own room. It was just a nice, safe little space.

  I had really been expecting something tougher or more extreme from my visit to see the head of the Double Shields. But no, it turned out…ridiculous? Not even ridiculous; just pointless. A bunch of schoolyard games: fake leaders, secretly watching conversations, cheap tricks. Either I was missing something staring me right in the face, or they were playing the long con. Miurat was no simpleton, and he wouldn’t have agreed to work for one. That just wasn’t the kind of person he was.

  I thought about that for another ten minutes before giving up. There wasn’t enough information for me to really dig into the problem, and I could come back to it when more popped up. Anyway, I hadn’t given them any cause to come after me, I’d kept to the rules of engagement, and I would wait to see what came next. The next day was going to be long, and I needed to get some sleep. Maybe I’ll catch a movie with Vika, something new and interesting. As long as it isn’t about vampires or werewolves… I’d had enough of those.

  ***

  “Kif, Kif, this is the second day in a row—what’s wrong with you?” Vika was shaking my shoulder with one hand, her eyes alarmed, and holding my phone in the other. “Wake up! Zimin’s on the phone, and he said to find and deliver you, dead or alive. I don’t think he’s joking!”

  She covered the microphone with her hand and hissed at me.

  “Kif, I’m really scared for some reason.”

  “What time is it?” I asked sleepily, glancing in the direction of the window as I usually did. It was dark as dark can be…

  “Half past five.” Vika stuck my phone in my hand, crawling under the blanket and staring at me.

  “Good morning,” I said, already more chipper. “Did something happen?”

  “Kif, hi,” Zimin said in an unusual voice. Where’s his usual hidden irony and majesty? His voice was dry, business-like, and sharp. “You have fifteen minutes to get ready. A car is already on its way, and by the time it gets there you need to be standing at your building door, shaved and wearing a suit.”

  “Where am I going?” I was starting to get nervous, too.

  “You’re wasting time.” The line went dead.

  “What?” Vika blinked, not a trace of sleep in her eyes. “Is it time to flee the country? Get our things together?”

  She was scared, but trying to crack a joke. Well done, Vika. She was a tough cookie.

  “It’s nothing,” I said, patting the blanket where her knee usually was. “Everything’s fine. The boss just had an idea, and it can’t wait—you know how rich people are. We sleep while they work, and then the other way around. Go ahead, go back to sleep.”

  “Right, like I’m going to sleep now.” Vika obviously didn’t believe me. “How can I sleep when I don’t know where my boyfriend is getting dragged off to or why?”

  Even after I’d shaved, her hunch that something bad was going down stuck with me, even if she had relaxed a little by the time I pulled my suit out of the closet. It looked like she thought there was less the world could do to someone wearing a suit. I’m not sure I completely agree with that…

  It was dark, chilly, and not all that comfortable on the street. It wasn’t raining, though there was still moisture in the air, and the leaves had all fallen from the bare, gray trees. The perfect setting, in a word. And considering the fact that I had no idea what was coming… When the car got there, I was ready to throw up my hands, forget Raidion, and get as far away from Moscow and all the different games it held as I could. I had plenty of friends on the other side of the Urals, and they could just try finding me there.

  “Nikiforov?” The long-nosed chauffeur who got out of the car asked. “Harriton?”

  “That’s me,” I replied gloomily, upset that I hadn’t listened to the smart woman up in my apartment.

  “Take a seat, we’re going.” He didn’t seem very talkative.

  I fidgeted in the car, trying to figure out what might have happened. It was tempting to grill the chauffeur, but I couldn’t imagine Zimin had said anything to him. Not about his plans in general, and certainly not about me in particular.

  There weren’t as many girls at the reception desk as during the day, though I was surprised to see that there were still several of the beauties at their post.

  “What, you work at night, too?” I really was interested. My reflexes and instincts were always on point.

  “Of course,” one of them responded. “There’s work going on in the office at night, and we sometimes get visitors or deliveries.”

  And there I’d always thought that office life was restricted to daylight hours. But no, they had a watch posted even at night. Probably just doing some Sudoku puzzles. I never had been able to figure out how they work.

  “You’re going to see Maxim?�
� the second asked.

  “Yep,” I replied ruefully. “Here I am, dragged over in the middle of the night. I have no idea why—they just said they desperately need me, so I had to get in the car and go.”

  The girls glanced at each other, their faces changed, and an expression flooded their eyes… Are they sizing me up?

  “Let me walk you up,” one of them said, though I waved her off.

  “Oh, I’ll be fine, I know how to get there—I won’t get lost.”

  I took a few deep breaths in the elevator, trying to calm myself down, and told myself that it was all the same: what was about to happen would happen, whether I wanted it to or not. If they’d wanted to kill me, they wouldn’t have dragged me all the way over to the Raidion building; that suspicious-looking chauffeur would have taken me straight to a cemetery. A knife to the throat, and it would have all been over. But no, I was there in one piece. Oh, how I love talking to myself.

  “Finally!” The first person I saw when I stepped out of the elevator wasn’t Zimin; it was Valyaev. “He’s already been asking where you are, and that means it’s serious—he’s not used to waiting. If he has to ask a second time, I’m not sure what he’ll do to you. Or to us…”

  “Who is ‘he’?” I asked, eyes bulging. “Zimin? Wasn’t he the one who sent the car for me?”

  “What do you mean, Zimin?” Valyaev tapped me on the forehead with his index finger. “The Old Man is in Moscow for just a few hours to do some things and sign some papers. And he wants to see you.”

  He knocked on Zimin’s door, yelling to make sure he was heard on the other side.

  “Max, he’s here, let’s go.”

  “So he decided he wants to see me after all?” I tugged on Valyaev’s sleeve.

  “That’s what I just told you. We were surprised, too—he’s only here for the night, and we didn’t think he’d have time for you. But here we are!”

  “I thought he’d forgotten about me,” I said sincerely.

  “He never forgets anything.” Zimin grabbed Valyaev and me by the elbows and pulled us toward the elevator. “He remembers everything and everyone forever.”