The long-awaited call from Captain White came while Kier was dreaming. Yet again, having had a bad night’s sleep, the young vor dozed off in the evening in his room. The loud and insistent comm signal woke Kier and forced him to jump out of bed. Stumbling, he rushed to the comm-terminal. White, who appeared on the display, stared at half-dressed Kier with open irony.
“Ensign, are you alone?”
Kier heard the mocking emphasis on his rank, but swallowed the hidden insult and nodded.
“I thought your pet, Private Karlsen, was with you again. As you understand, my lord, he is absolutely not to know about our business.”
“What is it that you want, Captain?”
“Me, personally? Nothing, my lord,” White responded sneeringly. “But your brothers, Petr and Mark … they want to meet with you. Now. Take your guardian and come to top platform of the dam. We’ll be waiting for you near the helicopter pad.”
* * *
Lord Vorsmith, after dressing in a hurry and escorted by disturbed Underman, got to the megadam surface in fifteen minutes. The sergeant had wisely contacted General Morosev and the latter was ordered to “keep an eye open” on the Special Corps officer on duty.
The weather had at last gotten better, being dry, sunny, and comparatively warm. After the stale air of the base interior, the light breeze was pleasantly refreshing.
Near the edge of the dam, where a splendid view of the Northern Ocean greeted one’s eye, Kier’s elder brothers and White were waiting for him. Not too far from the ImpSec helicopter, a Special Corps officer strolled with a pair of armed soldiers. Near them stood a horriloid, already familiar to Kier, with a grenade launcher. The inscriptions Mark Vorsmith and privatos securitatos could be seen on his black uniform.
“Hi, bro!” Mark cheerfully greeted Kier.
Petr, more restrained, simply gave a slight nod.
Kier nodded in greeting to both, and then Underman, towering behind his ward, politely inquired, “Greetings, my lords. How’s the count’s health?”
“You’d better think about yours!” snarled Mark, losing his temper.
Petr winced and Captain White hurried to dispel the gloom, saying, “From my sources, Count Vorsmith is feeling well. I’ve activated the device blocking the audio interception of our talk. Any recording is also impossible. Although we can be seen, that shouldn’t be a hindrance to an open talk.”
“Thanks, Vladimir,” Petr said to White. “I’ve also switched on a corresponding device. So let’s get down to business.”
Silence fell, surprisingly, after that phrase. The Vorsmiths examined one another with unveiled interest. All three were short, dark-haired, and unattractive, with big noses and yellow-gray eyes.
Kier noticed that Mark carried a lot of extra weight, compared to his own physique. The middle brother was wearing an unbuttoned black leather jacket and T-shirt. Pistol handles protruded from the jacket pockets. Contrastingly, Petr was outfitted in his blue ImpSec uniform, with all the buttons fastened. He was physically fit and looked much older than both his brothers.
“Has Vladimir passed our proposal on to you?” Petr disrupted the silence at last.
“Yes,” answered Kier, his voice shaking. “I want to know the guarantees.”
Petr and Mark exchanged glances.
“I don’t know what you’ve fantasized,” Mark started, “but we are not maniacs. We won’t kill a blood brother. I have reached a complete understanding with Petr. I renounce my claims for the county and he pays me one hundred million yellows. It’s approximately one-tenth-part of the legacy. I’m one hundred percent sure that Petr will fulfill his promise.”
“That’s right!” said the elder Vorsmith, continuing the game. “I gave my vor’s word and I will keep it!”
“To you,” said Petr, looking at his youngest brother condescendingly, “I won’t offer one hundred million. I’m sorry, but you are still too green and haven’t grown up to our level. Nevertheless, family is family. One million dariks is a good start in your position. Henchman Underman can also count on our word and gratitude.”
The bodyguard lifted his brow in distrust and said, “I know the price of my lord’s word … all too well.”
“Sergeant, I’d recommend you forget that bloody episode,” Petr’s voice was annoyed. “It doesn’t apply to our current business.”
“That depends on what way you look at it, my lord,” the Vorsmiths’ henchman objected. “When my youngest sister was arrested for alleged treachery by the ImpSec and you tried blackmailing me, the count ordered you to release her, and you, my lord, promised to fulfill this order. Then my sister was found dead in her cell, and it was shown that before her death she was cruelly raped.”
“You hadn’t told me that!” exclaimed Kier, whipping about to look at the henchman.
“Everything in due time, my lord,” Underman replied calmly.
“I wasn’t related to that in any way!” Petr snapped sharply. “It was done by the bastard warden, whom I murdered with my own hands.” He then addressed Kier. “Don’t let Underman brainwash you! Father is paying him for every day of your life at this base. It’s profitable for him to keep you here, practically under arrest. I offer you freedom and money. You just have to show a little will. Are you a man or not?”
“Or do you seriously plan on becoming the next Count Vorsmith?” Mark interjected. “That will never happen! Father will use you as an ordinary backing and will then throw you away!”
“It’s possible,” Kier agreed. “But all your offers are groundless while our father still lives and is generally healthy. The murder or attempted assassination of a legitimate count is a serious crime, investigated by an out-satrap.”
“Legitimate count?” Petr lowered his voice, his face so pale that Kier guessed his elder brother was enraged. “Maybe you know how he became one? How our grandfather, Count Petr, died?”
“The old count suffered from an oncological disease; he murdered our mother, and then killed himself.” Kier remembered the dramatic story told by Brutari.
“You know almost nothing!” Petr whispered. “Count Petr was actually severely ill and killed our mother. He also wanted to kill father and Brutari, and then proclaim me as the new heir. I was already seventeen by then. Even if the count had been removed from his title or had died, the out-satrap would have chosen a temporary regent. And in a year, I’d get the legitimate legacy!”
“I’m sorry, but I don’t believe you,” Kier said. “I can theoretically imagine that grandfather wanted to give you the power, but a mass murder? And why Brutari? Is he our relative, too, and did he have claims for the countyship?”
“You do not understand!” said Petr, his voice rising to a shriek, but then quickly got hold of himself. “Listen to the truth, at last! Father and Brutari were lovers, since the time of their service in the Special Corps. They met our future mother later in Southern Gomorrah. I surmise that it was Brutari who had sex with her first; he had always been a bi-sexual. On the other hand, father felt the strongest disgust toward women. Grandfather insisted on a quick marriage of his only son in order to create heirs. And then Brutari offered a variant that suited everyone. A sexual triangle! And it worked. The marriage of Lady Judith with the heir of the Vorsmiths’ county occurred. Our mother successfully fulfilled her role of a mare dam. But grandfather didn’t like Brutari and the influence he had on his son. And this perverted love triangle, in general! For some reason, our parents and Brutari found such relations funny. For some time, grandfather had to bear with this mess for the sake of his grandchildren, but then he lost his temper. His fatal disease also played its part, of course. The old count tried killing the trio, but he managed to shoot only our mother. And then our father killed him!”
“Do you expect me to believe this nonsense?” Kier asked sarcastically. “You could have made up something more plausible.”
“The truth often sounds more unreal than any lie,” Petr parried. “I could have easily made up a much more realistic legend, justifying my claims for the countyship. So if you’re not a complete moron, you’ll believe me.”
“Funny enough, but Petr is telling the truth,” Mark added. “I didn’t believe him myself for a long time, but then was convinced that it’s more or less true.”
Kier was confused. He recollected his own speculations on this subject and had to admit he knew few facts about his family’s life. Brutari had always avoided the details in their conversations about Kier’s direct relatives. Vorsmith-junior hadn’t been in touch with any of them for a long time.
“Wait a minute. How come you know all these details?” Kier demanded. “You’ve said yourself that you were only seventeen at the time. And Mark was no more than ten. Brutari didn’t tell me a thing of this sort, so it’s unlikely he would be spilling his guts to you. Just as our father wouldn’t.”
“Kier”—Petr gave his youngest brother a critical look—“seventeen is a pretty conscious age. I saw it myself when my grandfather shot our mother and our father shot him in response. Then, together with Brutari, they presented it as the old count’s suicide. There was no video monitoring in that room of the mansion. The out-satrap believed, or pretended to believe, our father’s version of events. And Brutari, being the senior henchman to the count, confirmed everything by alleging that he heard the shooting and discovered two dead bodies in the closed room with nobody else inside …”
“And what were you doing there?” Kier inquired. “Was it a family counsel?”
“More like a family orgy!” Mark snorted suddenly. “Our parents and their common lover, Brutari, were having fun in bed when the old count discovered them. Petr was peeping on them, hidden in a secret wardrobe with a camera in his hands. Pervert!”
“Shut up, Mark!” Petr snapped. “You regularly fuck pre-teen girls! Pedophile!”
“At least I’m not a pederast like our father,” Vorsmith-middle countered. “Just imagine—copulating with his own henchman, and then spilling into his wife to get children! I feel sick even thinking about that!”
“Gentlemen!” interceded White, who had slightly shuddered at the mentioning of pederast. “We are not here to discuss each other’s sexual tastes. Lord Kier must agree with your proposal to leave for New Roma. You wanted to convince him that this is necessary.”
“Thanks, Vladimir,” Captain Petr replied, his tone neutral. “We were really off the subject. There’s a secret entrance in the Vorsmiths’ mansion between father’s and grandfather’s apartments that ends in a large wardrobe. Our ancestors knew about it, but they didn’t realize I also knew. When my grandfather went through this entrance on his last mission, I followed him. Nobody noticed me back then. All these nice family stories only go to show that I’m the eligible Count Vorsmith. Grandfather wanted to give the power directly to me, but our father killed him. Either way, Ariel Vorsmith should not be the Count. I saw him put his pistol in the old man’s hand. I even managed to record it on video, but failed to make a copy. Brutari caught me at the last moment and took away the camera. He and father were enraged.”
Kier tried to find some reasonable explanation for this collective madness. “As I’ve understood, father was only protecting himself; Brutari had to help him, as father had saved his life.”
“He took it the same way he’d saved it. As I know it occurred right in front of you, Kier.”
“Yes …” Now it was Kier’s turn to whisper. For a moment, he closed his eyes, and the horrible scene of Brutari’s death appeared in his mind.
“Would you realize it already—our father is a monster!” Petr exclaimed. “Mark and I are not saints ourselves, but he doesn’t deserve the right to live. I’m not even talking about the county! Come with us to New Roma. We’ll resolve the problem of Underman.” Petr stared at the henchman with malice. “Your secret apartment is ready. There is a supply of food for half a year. Of course, the menu is pretty plain, you can’t go out in the street or use the comm-net. But in several months, you will be a free and rich man. If you want, I can even help you start your own business in New Roma or any other place.”
“Petr puts his money where his mouth is,” Mark added. “Nobody will lay a finger on you. In the worst-case scenario, if father finds you, he’ll renounce you as the heir. Or, maybe, he won’t even do that!”
Kier was bewildered. The proposal seemed tempting, and his elder brothers didn’t seem so scary now.
They even made provisions for the food, Kier noted. Maybe I should risk it?
“You’ve almost got me,” Vorsmith-junior said eventually. “But still, where are the guarantees that you won’t kill me when I’m in your domain?”
Petr exchanged glances with Mark and replied, “This is a question of trust, Kier. We are your kin, just as Mark has already mentioned—not some maniacs. What other guarantees do you want? Official documents of diplomatic immunity?”
Kier looked into the so familiar yellow-gray eyes of his elder brothers. True or false? Life or death? Suddenly, he recalled how his father murdered Brutari. And they were more than friends, came the menacing thought. And that thing Underman had said about his youngest sister? Now I know why the count chose him for my protection.
Kier slid a glance at White, standing near Petr. The face of the local ImpSec officer was indifferent, but Kier had a good memory of his behavior on the parade ground after the oath of the civil servants. He also remembered the warnings of Karlsen and Brutari: “Never trust the ImpSec rats!”
“Gentlemen!” Kier’s voice trembled, but he’d made up his mind. “I have listened to your proposal, but I have to reject it. Your guarantees seem insufficient to me.”
A shadow ran across the faces of Petr, Mark, and White, while Underman’s countenance lightened up.
“It’s not necessary to refuse right now, Kier.” Petr made his last attempt. “We are ready to give you a little time to think it over.”
“How much?” the Vorsmiths’ henchman asked.
“Another couple of days,” Petr responded. “I’m ready to wait longer, but Mark … he has some liabilities. To fulfill them, he urgently needs the money.”
“Well, who doesn’t need it?” the middle brother said with an awkward laugh.
“My decision is final!” Kier snapped sharply. “I won’t take part in a plot against my father.”
“It’s a pity …” Petr looked really upset. “I thought you were smarter. Well, take care of yourself!”
“Strong health to you!” Mark added with a menacing leer.
* * *
When Kier and Underman were left alone, the youth wasn’t in a hurry to return to his dingy apartment. He took a deep breath of the refreshing sea air and, squinting his eyes, looked at the polar sun. The red light was low, but despite the midnight time, it obviously wasn’t going to set.
Kier called to memory that Brutari hadn’t wanted to tell him even the official version of Lady Judith’s death. “Your mother died; it was an accident” was the firm statement given by his actual foster father. At the age of ten, the curious boy was hungrily exploring the comm-net and found the postmortem public profile of his mother. Kier still remembered the shock he’d felt then. The profile only stated that his mother had been murdered. When Kier had run to Brutari, the henchman was forced to reveal the truth—but only part of the truth, as Kier now realized.
“Unfortunately, I was not able to do anything,” Brutari had added thereat. Little Kier didn’t pay any attention to this bromide at the time, but now it hit him differently.
If Petr lied and the official version of mother’s and grandfather’s death is right, Brutari wasn’t there, Kier speculated. The murder and the suicide happened in the closed room. So there was no way Brutari could have done anything. That means …
The conclusion was evident and quite unpleasant: the brothers did tell him the truth of the family story.
But why did my father send me and Brutari to New Roma, and then kill Brutari, who had been his lover? the young lord considered.
Kier’s previous speculations on this cursed question came down to vengeance for his wife’s affair, and the new Count Vorsmith’s fear of his own people. This version was a bit odd and needed some revision.
Brutari was a dangerous witness, but Ariel Vorsmith didn’t dare kill him immediately.
Love, fear, or jealousy? Kier considered. Brutari was cheating on my father with his own wife, and she, in her turn, was cheating on him with Brutari. Although, everyone knew everything. Brutari’s exile looks like a compromise. But then why did he send me off with him? Did he want to set me free from my elder brothers’ influence? He succeeded in that, in any case.
His thoughts returned to the recent events.
However, the situation changed. The count’s previous feelings toward Brutari, if they ever existed in the first place, disappeared long ago. Petr and Mark, who had become dangerous, could have used the old henchman for their purpose. In case I became the heir, Brutari could have played in my favor. This is even more plausible than his hypothetical alliance with my elder brothers. In case Brutari confirmed officially that Ariel Vorsmith had murdered his father, even in his self-defense, the out-satrap could have estranged the acting count. That is why he killed Brutari! Kier concluded.
I blamed myself for nothing. My night conversation with the count didn’t influence anything. Father was just waiting for me to reach full age in May, so that Petr couldn’t become regent in case of the count’s death. Things should not have been rushed, but the rest was pre-determined. I wonder if Brutari understood what awaited him. He didn’t even try to do anything. Or did he? Kier paused, remembering his brother’s tale. Petr told me about the camera that Brutari had taken away from him. Maybe he had a copy of that horrible record? Where did Brutari go the night before his death? Maybe he wanted to blackmail the count?
Kier had to accept that he still knew too little about his parents. His previous speculations, which had seemed so logical, turned out to be false.
It also appears like I don’t know a thing about Brutari, the young man thought with bitterness. While I have spent all my conscious life with him and his daughter. Having remembered Elena, Kier felt completely depressed.
Where is she now? Who is she with? Will I see her again someday? She probably blames me for her father’s death. He could hardly suppress tears.
“Let’s go, my lord, you’ve had a rough day.” Underman disrupted the silence. “Let me tell you, you were doing pretty well. You could have negotiated a few days to think, but, realistically, that wouldn’t have changed a lot. For a moment, I was afraid you would accept their offer. I’m glad you’ve made the right choice. Maybe you’re not such an infantile dweeb, as it seems.”
“I’m afraid there are no right choices in my case,” Kier replied gloomily. “By the way, Sergeant, how long have you been serving my father?”
“I became the Vorsmiths’ henchman five years ago, my lord. I know nothing of the events discussed today with your brothers. I didn’t even know Corporal Brutari, though I witnessed his death.”
“Were you shocked by the story?” Kier asked. “Or did you believe Petr?”
“I think your brother was telling the truth, my lord. But I’m not to judge my master,” said Underman, shrugging his shoulders. “Everyone has skeletons in the wardrobe.”