“What else would you think?”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. If the Vicomte thought the Tsar was in contact with one of his Fantomes, that mage was as good as dead. The man had serious problems trusting anyone. Most likely, he believed this was the easiest way to discover what they had been discussing. And once the Vicomte had gotten all the information that he could? I shuddered. Gretel was doomed.
Still, Gretel seemed to believe the Vicomte’s words. Her posture visibly slumped with relief. “As you command, my master.” Gretel raised her left arm. My skin prickled as the magick in the room shifted toward her. Soon, the bones in Gretel’s left hand glowed bright blue. Meanwhile, an azure-colored mist crawled up the rock wall under the gateway. When the magickal haze disappeared, the bricks that had blocked the gate were gone.
Vanished.
Instead, the Tsar now stood under the gateway. He was little more than a silhouette against the perfect darkness behind him.
The Vicomte rocked on his heels. “Greetings, my Tsar.”
“Gaspard.” I’d have known that voice anywhere. The Tsar was here for certain.
The Vicomte opened his arms wide. “Come closer, why don’t you, and greet me as a brother?”
“And why would I do that?” asked the Tsar. “We both know very well that I can’t cross the gateway yet. Well, not without pain.” He sighed. “If you wish to hurt me, you’ll need to do better.”
“I had no idea that would happen,” said the Vicomte. He wasn’t a very good liar.
“Still, I can move a little closer without crossing the gateway. After all, I’d like a better look at my one-time loyal follower.” The Tsar stepped forward into the torchlight. He looked the same as when I last saw him at the Midnight Cloister—tall and broad-shouldered in long black robes with the elegant bone structure and pale skin of a Necromancer. He glared at Gretel. “How are you, traitor?”
Gretel lifted her chin. “I’m fine. Much better now that I follow the Vicomte.” Her voice trembled with every word. A pang of sympathy twisted through me.
The Vicomte rubbed his palms together. “Now, I’m sure you’re wondering. Why have I summoned you?”
“Not in particular.” The Tsar’s features stayed perfectly still as he spoke. “No doubt you’ve tried hoarding up Necromancer power into one of my totem rings. Now you want information. How far have you gotten?”
My mouth fell open. The Tsar always seemed three steps ahead.
The Vicomte frowned. “Who told you this?”
A small smile rounded the Tsar’s mouth. “Please. I don’t need spies to predict what you’ll do next. Have you tried to drain one of the Fantomes of their magick yet?”
The lines of the Vicomte’s face deepened. “Perhaps.”
“In that case, you know it’s a waste of time,” said the Tsar smoothly. “At one time, the Fantomes were all members of my entourage. I’d have been a great fool to allow my most powerful mages to drain one another. That could create someone strong enough to challenge my power. Give me more credit than that.”
“I said perhaps,” snapped the Vicomte. His voice was as petulant as a child’s. “I didn’t say that I did it.”
“But you did try something,” said the Tsar leadingly.
I shook my head. I’d spent years in training, learning how to control my emotions and manipulate others into revealing their own. The Tsar was using classic Necromancer interrogation methods, and the Vicomte was falling for every trick.
The Vicomte jammed his hands into his pockets. “Of course, I looked into the possibilities. I’m a scientist. Besides, Fantomes aren’t the only ones with Necromancer power.”
“True. And you knew about my bone crawlers, too. Those creatures are custom-made to drain Necromancer power. I’ll bet you explored what those insects can do.”
“Yes, that’s precisely what I did. I tested having bone crawlers drain those with Necromancer power but not Fantomes.” The Vicomte sighed dramatically. “Alas. The bone crawlers answer only to you. It was a dead end, all of it. No one can carry on your work in gathering up all Necromancer power. It was a bold goal. It’s over now, though.”
The Tsar’s features stayed chillingly calm. “So you’ve no alternate way to transfer Necromancer power into a totem ring.”
“None at all.” I had to give the Vicomte credit. He told that lie rather believably. If I hadn’t spoken with Amelia, I’d never have thought there was an alternative to the bone crawlers.
“My focus is now on machines,” said the Vicomte. “All kinds of useful, scientific devices. I called you here today because I demand that you to stop taunting my loyal Fantomes.”