A Sojourn in Bohemia Read online

  “Yes,” Varanus said. “I know the way.”

  Iosef had expected as much, but he did not consider it polite to say so.

  “Good, then once Luka has readied the carriage, we will depart. With luck, we will find Julius and his associates and attend to the problem they have imposed upon us.” Iosef considered another thought. “Oh, and if your son’s friends are imprisoned there, I suppose we might rescue them too.”

  “Magnanimous of us,” Varanus noted dryly. “But I suppose that would be best. Until they are found, Friedrich will insist on looking for them, and it may get him into trouble.”

  A common enough occurrence in the best of circumstances, Iosef thought. But he wisely chose not to voice the comment.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Iosef was disappointed to find Count von Steiersberg’s house dark and all but empty. Not surprised. Disappointed. He had always known that his quarry might prove a more difficult thing to chase, but he had harbored a certain hope that the matter might be concluded quickly and easily. Of course, it was still possible that the household had simply retired rather than fled, but in light of the evening’s events, he very much doubted it.

  He and Varanus abandoned their transport a block from the house. It was a horse-drawn wagon that Varanus had apparently “borrowed” from Von Steiersberg and was now eager to return. Iosef thought it very good of her to return the stolen property before setting out to kill the owner.

  They entered through the stables. The door was poorly secured, and a quick listen told Iosef that it was empty. As he entered, he smelled the lingering scent of dried blood. A moment later, he saw the places where it had pooled on the floor. But he did not see the bodies from which it had come. Someone had removed them.

  He noticed Varanus look around for the corpses, and he recognized the subtle hint of concern on her face. She had been the one who spilled blood here.

  “Was this where it happened?” he asked her.

  Varanus shook her head. “In the house. Upstairs.” She glanced at the dried blood. “This is where I awoke. They planned to dump my body in the river, so I expressed to them my distinct wish to remain alive and dry.”

  “Very prudent,” Iosef said, hiding a smile.

  He went to the door and glanced into the adjoining passage, which led into the house. He knew that there was no one nearby—he neither heard nor smelled anyone—but it was best to be cautious. Crossing through the dark passage, he and Varanus eventually reached the main hall of the house, which was feebly lit with lamps that had been turned down.

  Iosef felt the shadows close in around him, twisting in the darkness, plucking at his fingertips, whispering incoherently at the very fringes of perception. He shuddered and closed his eyes, willing himself to keep ahold of his senses.

  Voices on the upstairs landing caught his attention, and he opened his eyes again. Looking beyond the threshold, he saw an older man in livery talking to two footmen and another man in plain clothes. Though their words were hushed, Iosef’s keen hearing could just make out the conversation.

  “And be certain to wash the stable floor,” the butler said to the footmen. “When His Lordship returns, it must be to a house that is clean and in order. Flushed from such jubilation, it would be a grave insult for him to be met with.…” The butler grimaced. “Pollution.”

  “It is only a little blood, Herr Haas,” one of the footmen said.

  The butler stopped immediately and spun about. Both footmen froze as if they knew what was to follow. Without pause, the butler struck the impudent footman across the face. The young man reeled backward and caught himself against the wall to keep from falling. He quickly bowed his head in obedience even as he wiped blood from his nose.

  “Do not speak back to your masters, boy!” the butler snapped.

  “No, Herr Haas.”

  In the darkness beside Iosef, Varanus murmured, “A bit of a harsh hand below stairs.”

  “Indeed,” Iosef agreed. “And unwise, I feel. I have always found violence to be a poor maintainer of discipline.”

  On the landing, the butler seemed to take satisfaction both in the beating and in the subservience it produced.

  “Good,” he said. Then he sternly added, “And it is not only a little blood. It is the blood of the faithful spilled without cause. I will not allow such a thing to greet His Lordship when he returns from the ritual.”

  “No, Herr Haas,” the footman repeated, his words echoed by his companion.

  The butler nodded approvingly. “And the bodies have all been accounted for?”

  “Yes, Herr Haas. In the cold cellar,” the second footman answered.

  “Good,” the butler repeated, sounding pleased at having his instructions carried out. “Herr Grauss, I will leave it to you to deal with our unfortunate brothers.”

  “I will have them properly disposed of,” Grauss said.

  The butler smiled slightly, again pleased. All things were in order, it seemed. He looked at the two footmen.

  “Go and clean the stables,” he said. “Now.”

  “At once, Herr Haas.”

  Varanus and Iosef exchanged a glance and quickly crept into the front hall, drawing toward the back with as much stealth as they could manage, until the footmen had descended the stairs and passed them, none the wiser. On the landing, the butler turned briskly and resumed his walk as if nothing had happened. The man called Grauss fell in beside him, and the two resumed their conversation. Iosef and Varanus hurried up the stairs, their footfalls all but silent, no louder than the shadows that tugged at Iosef’s coattails.

  Ahead, he heard the butler continue, “Herr Grauss, is there any word on what became of the woman? I was quite certain she was dead. This is clearly not the case.”

  “Not having seen the body, I cannot speak to that,” replied the man in plainclothes. “But I find it unlikely that she was responsible for our brothers’ deaths. Someone so small and feeble could not have accomplished it. More likely, another party killed them and stole the body. After all, the wagon was taken.”

  “True,” the butler agreed. “That must be attended to as well.”

  “I shall set my men to it once they return from the bookseller’s,” Grauss said. He frowned and checked his pocket watch. “It seems they are delayed.”

  “Surely they have a great many books to search through,” the butler offered.

  Grauss grunted and nodded, though he did not seem convinced.

  The two men turned into a side room. Iosef glanced at Varanus and she nodded back. It seemed that all of the household might be implicated in the conspiracy, but certainly these two were. And to hear the butler talk, he too was one of Mordechai’s “true believers”. Iosef found it difficult to imagine modern people actually believing such fantastical nonsense, but clearly it was so. Then again, he reminded himself, the further man was drawn away from the basic concerns of food and shelter, the more his mind was free to wander. Their ancient ancestors might have looked to the sky in ignorance and granted godhood to a bolt of lightning, not understanding its cause. But so often modern folk, knowing the truth, were that much more determined to find Zeus or Apollo somewhere. Anywhere. If not in thunder and sunlight, then in coincidence and shadow.

  Perhaps Von Raabe, Von Steiersberg, and their cohorts had grown bored with the dull reliability of reason and had cast it aside in favor of more thrilling occult ideologies.

  Iosef hurried along the hallway with Varanus at his side. They took up positions on either side of the door, pausing a moment to ready themselves. There was an exchange of nods, and then Iosef tried the door. It was unlocked, and he quickly entered the room, allowing his eyes to dart about wildly to give him as broad a sense of the layout as he could manage. His mind worked heavily for a second or two, weaving together each fractured glimpse into a concrete whole so that he could have closed his eyes and draw
n the room perfectly from memory.

  It was a useful skill. A useful skill that Sophio had taught him.

  And at his urging, the whispers started again:

  Sophio. Sophio. Sophio.

  “By the god, who—” exclaimed the butler.

  Iosef opened his eyes again. The butler and the man called Grauss stood midway across the room, in the middle of examining some papers on a table. They stared at Iosef and Varanus. For a moment, Iosef felt the shadows creeping in around him, suffocating him.

  Paranoia. It had become so familiar. So comfortable.

  “Restrain the butler,” Iosef instructed Varanus.

  He lunged at Grauss before either man could fully react. He took the ruffian in his grasp and threw him to the floor. Grauss tried to struggle, but Iosef struck him several times in the chest until the man’s enthusiasm broke, along with a rib or two. The butler started shouting for help, but Varanus grabbed him and hit him against the wall, grinning slightly at the catharsis of violence. Only a few moments later, the two cultists were both lying on the floor, pinned and gasping for breath. It seemed they both lacked the vigor of their companions who had been sent forth into the world. Perhaps there was a reason for that.

  Iosef leaned over them and allowed the flickering lamp light to catch in his eyes, reflecting back like the devilish glow of a cat’s eyes.

  “Now then,” he whispered, “I am searching for Count von Raabe and Count von Steiersberg. I have some business I eagerly wish to share with them. Where are they?”

  “Say nothing!” the butler cried, though the force of Varanus’s hand on his throat kept him from raising his voice too loudly.

  But Grauss was the wiser of the two. “To Vienna,” he replied. “They have gone to Vienna.”

  Grauss was not a good liar, Iosef could tell. The quiver in his tone, the hesitation in his breath, the dilation of his eyes, and the change in pulse all gave him away. One could not always tell truth from falsehood by the physical signs, but it was much easier for the Living. And it was very easy with the unfortunate Grauss.

  Iosef placed one hand over Grauss’s mouth to muffle any screams that might result and then bent his finger backward until just before it broke. Grauss shuddered and struggled and whimpered in pain, but to his credit, he did not cry out. Though perhaps that was only a ploy to make Iosef relax enough to allow a proper shout for aid. Fortunately, Iosef did not intend to take any chances on that account.

  “One of you will tell me,” Iosef said.

  Again he allowed the light to catch in his eyes, its reflection shimmering hypnotically as he gazed at his victims. He clenched his throat to both soften and deepen his voice until it was a rumble sounding almost at the same tone as a beating heart. It was pageantry, but it might prove effective all the same. The weak-minded and weak-willed alike were sometimes coerced more through animal suggestion than through reason or fear, and he very much doubted that either reason or torture would move the “faithful” in time to be effective.

  He listened carefully as he heard the butler’s breathing slow, even as his heartbeat quickened with excitement. Grauss remained unmoved, still snarling viciously. Iosef kept his hand over Grauss’s mouth and turned his full attention to the butler, his glistening eyes inviting the man to become lost in the instinctive dread of darkness.

  “You are going to tell me, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “N-no,” the butler answered, but the conviction of the word was not supported by the listlessness of his tone.

  “You are going to tell me,” Iosef repeated.

  “N.… N-no…” came the reply, even less certain than before.

  Iosef smiled. He had his man.

  “Where have they gone?” he asked softly.

  * * * *

  “They’ve fled to Valkenburg,” Iosef told Luka, as they met him at the carriage a few blocks from Von Steiersberg’s house.

  Luka raised an eyebrow and asked, “Prussia? At this hour?”

  “Naturally,” Varanus said, climbing into the carriage with Iosef. “Julius’s home ground. His ancestral seat. What better place to bring his captives?”

  “Any place that does not involve crossing a border,” Luka ventured.

  He set the carriage in motion, but for the time being he kept their pace slow, partly to avoid attention and partly so that they could still converse.

  “Borders are notoriously porous things, Brother,” Iosef said. “You know that.”

  Luka chuckled knowingly. “Indeed. And are we to follow them?”

  “I have a thirst for revenge and a passion for not leaving alive a man who wishes to kill me,” Iosef replied. “We will return to the house and wait until the morning train. We will obtain horses in Königsberg and proceed to the Von Raabe house from there.”

  “And our quarry?” Luka asked.

  “Either they managed an overnight train or they go by carriage,” Varanus said, “though I suspect it is the latter. Two unwilling prisoners are likely to attract attention. And if they have gone by carriage, we shall arrive days ahead of them. Ample time for us to survey the land and lay a trap.”

  “Sneaky of you, Doctor,” Luka said, laughing. “I daresay you ought to have become a hunter rather than a surgeon.”

  “Thank you, Luka, you are too kind.”

  As the carriage picked up speed, Iosef leaned back in his seat. He turned to Varanus and said, “I suggest that we leave Ekaterine to manage your son’s…guests. She will also be ideal in assuaging the suspicions of the staff. We will have her make excuses of a family outing or some such thing.”

  “A visit to the countryside,” Varanus agreed. “Quite innocuous.” She frowned. “Ekaterine will not be happy at being excluded. She adores ruined castles.”

  “She will persevere,” Iosef said. “But short of locking your son’s guests in the cellar, there is no alternative.”

  “Alistair can look after them,” Varanus said. She then considered her own words. “Though I am not certain if leaving him alone would be a good idea at such a time.”

  “Regarding that…” Iosef murmured.

  “My son?” Varanus’s eyes flashed. “What of him?”

  “Much as I am displeased to say it, we must bring him with us,” Iosef replied. “For your sake.”

  “For my sake?” Varanus demanded.

  Iosef sighed softly. “Varanus,” he said, “if we vanish without explaining anything to him, he will begin to make inquiries, which is the last thing we want when our intention is to murder someone.”

  “Agreed,” Varanus replied cautiously. “But if we tell him.…”

  “If we tell him and do not bring him, he will rush off to rescue his friends on his own. He will be clumsy and unsubtle about it. He will ask questions. He will attract attention. And this may well get him killed if Von Steiersberg’s allies take notice of him.”

  Varanus inhaled and exhaled very slowly. She was not pleased.

  “If we bring him, he may die,” she reminded Iosef.

  Iosef did not regard that possibility as any great concern, but he did understand why it was important to his student.

  “If we do not bring him, he will be angry with us,” Iosef said. “That does not trouble me, but I know that it will trouble you.”

  “True.…”

  “And worse,” Iosef continued, “if we do not bring him and his friends die, he will be furious with you, and it may take him years to forgive you because he is young and that is how young people behave.”

  Varanus frowned and gazed out of the window.

  “I suppose that is true,” she admitted. “Or at least plausible.”

  “Believe me, Varanus,” Iosef said, “I am not pleased by the thought of having your son accompanying us, as I have yet to witness him being particularly reliable under any circumstances.” He paused as Varanus
exhaled angrily at his description of her son, and he raised a hand to show that it was not his intention to make an argument of it. “But he is important to you, and therefore, I would prefer to keep him alive. If he intends to go chasing after his abducted friends, he will be much safer in our company than on his own.”

  Varanus sighed. “I suppose you are right, My Lord.”

  “Indeed,” Iosef said. “I have been known to speak reasonably from time to time, though I shall not make a habit of it.”

  Varanus laughed at this, and Iosef joined her, enjoying the brief reprieve from the disquiet of the night’s events. And he enjoyed the laughter all the more knowing that things would only grow worse in the coming days.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  It was late evening by the time they reached Königsberg, but even so, Varanus and Iosef agreed that it would be best if they ventured out to the Von Raabe house and appraised the situation. If Julius and his cohorts had gone by carriage as Varanus suspected, it would be a few days before they arrived, even at a rapid pace and under ideal circumstances. That gave Varanus enough time to survey the land, identify the best place for an ambush, and prepare for the inevitable confrontation.

  Julius’s home was the logical place to start: if the conspirators managed to slip past them in Königsberg, that was likely the ultimate destination. Where better to keep prisoners than a secluded mansion in the countryside? And it was important to determine whether the rest of the Von Raabe family were in league with their patriarch. That would influence the lay of the land when Julius finally arrived.

  They had all dressed inconspicuously to avoid attention, but given how distinctive Varanus and Friedrich looked, mother and son did their best to stay out of the public eye, as did Iosef, leaving Luka to manage whatever arrangements were necessary: rooms, food, transportation. After about an hour of searching, he returned to them with a horse and buggy that he claimed had been purchased outright from its former owner. Varanus thought it best not to ask for details.