“Poldek!” Georgi cried, the moment he saw Tacit enter the main hall. He leapt from his table and bounded over to him, engulfing him in a bear hug. “Poldek! It’s good to see you again! Satan’s curse, I thought you were dead!” He laughed and slapped him hard across the shoulder.
“Georgi!” Tacit replied, holding onto his friend’s arms. He shook his head, as if reacquainting himself with the sight of his old friend. “You think I’m that easy to get rid of, eh?” He made to slap Georgi in the face. Georgi glanced the gentle blow aside and they wrestled each other lightly, pulling and tugging like children. “Where’s everyone else?” Tacit asked eventually, holding his friend at arm’s length to look at him. “Claus? Leon?”
At once Georgi shook his head and sat back down at the table. “We’ve lost many good friends, Poldek.”
“What do you mean? Where have they gone?”
Georgi pulled the cup of coffee towards him.
“Ivan?” asked Tacit cautiously. Georgi looked into the black depths of his drink.
“We’ve not heard from him. For months.” And then he turned and looked at Tacit fiercely, tears in his eyes. “We thought we’d lost you! Damn you, Poldek! Where’ve you been?”
“I lost my master. It’s taken me all this time to get back,” Tacit replied, grimly. He sat down on the bench next to Georgi, both revolvers at his side thumping against the wood of the table. He removed them and placed them in front of him, Georgi’s eyes flashing at their terrible beauty. Tacit ran the dirt from his hair.
“I never expected it to be like this,” Georgi said, lifting his eyes from the weapons to stare across the hall. “Never thought it would be so hard. Never thought as to what they would want us to do, what they would want us to become.” He looked back at Tacit. There was something different about his friend, a reluctance to talk, to confide, as if a line had been crossed with him, an emotion forever excised. “Are you okay, my friend?”
Tacit nodded and picked up his master’s revolver, feeling its weight.
“What are you going to do now, then?” Georgi asked, sweeping up his coffee and putting the scalding liquid to his lips.
“Now?”
“Now that you’ve lost your master?”
“Nothing,” Tacit answered, teasing the chamber of the revolver free and spinning the cylinder with his fingers. He snapped it home. “Nothing changes, Georgi.” He put his dark eyes onto his friend. “The battle still goes on.”