Page 104 of Tiger's Trek
“He owns everything,” was the only reply. “You’re lucky to be granted an audience. He must think you have something of value to trade,” he said. “Most people who ask something from him end up being killed.”
Nodding too quickly, Nik swallowed and offered a sheepish grin. “Right. Right. I’ve got something valuable. Absolutely. Wouldn’t be here otherwise. Right?” He laughed awkwardly, but it sounded too loud and hollow in the dark, huge space, so he stopped and cleared his throat. “Shall we go on, then?”
“This way, Bringer of Misery,” Sergey said.
The gate closed and locked behind him as Nik realized what had happened. These were the men Pasha was supposed to meet. Obviously, there had been a misunderstanding. Either that, or Pasha had been delayed, or worse. What should he do? Should he play it as if he were Pasha? Would they know? Had they met before? As they walked in the dark, Nik quietly removed his shirt and pulled the tunic out of his secret pocket, then slipped it on over his head backward. He wouldn’t have the luck that came with a goat kicking him or the butt of a horse, but it would have to do. Pasha had said these men could see through magic. Nik sincerely hoped he’d been wrong. Putting his own shirt on over the top of the tunic, he followed behind his guide and hoped he wouldn’t need to make a quick escape.
Sergey stopped at a wide door and threw a lever. A series of lights came on, and he realized he was standing next to a large iron cage of some kind.
“What’s this?” Nik asked.
“Get in.”
“Are you putting me in prison?”
“No. See? I’m getting in as well. It’s a levitator.”
“A what?”
“A levitator. It takes you up inside the mountain. Runs on pulleys and gears. Waterfall does the work so’s we don’t have to haul things to the top or climb stairs. Get it?”
Glancing up the dark shaft lit only every so often by tiny gleaming lights, he said, “Brilliant. Is it made by magic? Did you install those snow heaters outside as well?”
“Don’t rightly know. Boss is a bright one. Wouldn’t never cross him. Look at him wrong, you’re dead. You’d do well to remember that.”
“I will,” Nik said.
The man shut the cage, pulled a lever, and they began to slowly rise, ascending level after level. Nik was certain he heard the roar of a tiger at one point.
“Are the tigers kept down there?” he asked.
“Some are,” the man replied.
“How many does he own?”
“You ask a lot of questions. I don’t make it a habit to answer. Answering gets me killed. Understand? I’m only courteous to you being on account of who you are and all.”
“I see. Thank you for explaining. You don’t need to answer. I won’t ask any more.”
“Appreciate it.”
The levitator finally came to a stop in a luxurious and well-lit entry. “These are the boss’s personal quarters. Keep your visit brief and to the point, and you might live. Good luck.”
“Thank you.” Nik stepped out, and the man immediately left, descending back down to where he’d come from. Without knowing what to do next, Nik decided the best thing would be to simply knock on the man’s door. So he did, and when it opened, he was greeted by a rather tall but fairly young man. “Come in, come in, make yourself welcome. Excuse me while I finish my shave.”
“Not a... not a problem,” Nik said, entering the sumptuous room, following the well-dressed man with a steaming towel pressed to his face.
“Have a seat,” the man said, “and I’ll be back in just a moment.”
Nikolai had mingled with royals on many occasions and had seen what great amounts of money and power could purchase. He was always curious about the items put on display. They never failed to tell him a great deal about the owner.
Those who arranged comfortable furniture for guests tended to be the best diplomats and were centered on such things as human rights policies and treaties. Others who displayed fine art or statues were typically focused on trade, export, and economic prosperity. Some would showcase items from far-off places, indicating ties to nature, wildlife, the Arctic, or the oceans. While those who exhibited flags, weapons, or heroes of the past were more dedicated to patriotism and protection for their country.
It didn’t matter whether the home was an extravagant palace or a hovel in the smallest town. People always showed their colors. Family portraits meant the person, or couple, took great pride or comfort in their legacy. A bare space indicated that whoever lived in that home had not put down roots or meant to leave at any moment.
As the man cleaned his face, Nik looked around for signs to gauge what type of person he was dealing with. The chairs were luxurious, something he’d expect in such a space, but the cushions were clean and simple—an indication the man did not want to stay or put down roots. However, there were subtle signs that showed he prized something... rare. Something not often seen.
Politics didn’t interest this man. He didn’t care for people either. He had no photos of family or friends. The art on the wall was expensively framed but meaningless. Generic. As were the carpets.
