The train rattled and clanked as it traveled through the sparsely wooded Barovian mountains.  In the only occupied 1rst class compartment, two men sat, facing each other.  One paused and looked out the window. 

"Beautiful." 

The young soldier with the machine gun and the Lieutenant insignia so new it was still neatly creased looked up. 

"What did you say, Silvertongue?" 

Constantine Darkheart smiled at the epithet.   For twenty years he had served as Minister of Information (What the Freelanders called Propaganda, as if they didn't do Propaganda or something).  For his infinite ability to put a positive spin on the worst possible situations had early on earned him the appellation of 'Silvertongue'.  And he was proud of it. 

"The mountains are so beautiful.  I've been the Freelands before you know, and there is much to recommend it.  But I still can't help but feeling that these scraggly mountains are a part of my soul." 

"He's gone crazy!" Lieutenant Greenhorn thought "He's on his way to be executed for crimes against the state and all he can talk about is the stupid scenery?!?" 

Constantine Darkheart looked about in his 40's but his weariness and defeated posture made him look older.  He had gunmetal grey fur typical of sables, but spotted with lighter grey fur in some places.  His dark eyes seemed almost black, dark voids that could swallow you whole. 

Lieutenant Greenhorn on the other hand was so young that he still looked like a calf, with bare stubs for horns still.  He was clearly nervous, holding the wiliest of the old governmental officials at bay, save Prince Malik himself who was conveniently out of the picture.  It was by pure chance that he had caught Darkheart, when he was checking ID's of passengers trying to emigrate by train and there was the Minister of Information on the run!  He expected to get a promotion at least to major, if this crafty sable didn't wiggle out and escape. 

"Who ordered the price out on my head Lieutenant?  The King perhaps?  Or was it part of His Highness's will?  Or maybe-" 

"None of the above, Silvertongue, it was General Bedlam." 

"Of course!  He never did approve of the way I made him look bloated in the posters I made of him.  So it's petty revenge!" 

Greenhorn was awed and confused by Darkheart's paranoia.  He was still new in the armed forces and had heard rumors of how paranoid the upper echelons were, but he had never seen it in action before.   His train of thought was derailed by seeing Darkheart reach into his pocket.  *Click*  The safety of his machine gun was off. 

Darkheart paused. 

"Something wrong lad?" 

"What are you doing?" 

"Sorry I'm going for my cigar case.  Very dangerous weapons as you know. They are known carcinogens. "  said Darkheart cheerfully. 

Feeling like he'd been had, Greenhorn gestured him to slowly remove the case from his pocket.  Darkheart fumbled a bit in his outer coat pocket, using his left paw, as his right was handcuffed to a support pole.  He removed a small metal case and opened it, revealing several cigars lined up neatly.  Darkheart removed one and snapped the case shut, replacing it in his pocket.  He then glanced up at Greenhorn.  Again the toothy smile. 

"Got a light, Lieutenant?" 

Greenhorn pulled out the gold plated gun that he had confiscated from Darkheart.  He stared at the scroll work of the Barovian royal crest of a scarab and the legend which bore the words: 'Tememt Vaja Malik devrus cath Sovrus Darkheart'  or 'From Prince Malik to Minister Darkheart' in Barovian.  A present for loyal services no doubt.  Greenhorn pointed the barrel straight at Darkheart and pulled the trigger. *Click*  A bright flame emerged from the barrel and Darkheart held the end of the cigar to the flame, then puffed away at the cigar without bothering to cut off the end of it. 

"I take it that I can't have the knife back either.  Even to cut cigars." 

"That's correct Minister." 

Greenhorn flushed, angry at himself for addressing this enemy of the people formally.  He's a traitor after all! 

"I guess I'll have to suffer then." said Darkheart. 

Darkheart smoked the cigar in silence but began to pour two glasses of water from a canteen when Greenhorn opened up Darkheart's wallet and started going through it. 

"Excellence in Journalism award?" 

"I got that in The Royal College.  I was considered most likely to become a reporter.  I was always good with facts." 

Greenhorn snorted at that and then found a picture, obviously clipped from a newspaper, looking slightly dusty.  He blew off the dust, then scrutinized the picture.  She looked familiar, he had seen that face somewhere before.....Kari! 

"By the Triad, this is Vaja-Descordu!" 

Which mean Prince-Killer in Barovian. 

"You pass this test Lieutenant.  That's the femme fatale herself.  The #1 enemy of the people.  Next to former government officials that is." 

"But why keep her picture in her wallet?" 

"Mainly as a check against hubris.  That no one, even as almighty as Malik was, is invincible.  That things that seem eternal are in fact ephemeral." 

Greenhorn took a drink of water while he listened to this. 

"Sounds like you're full of it, Silvertongue, but then you always were the crafty one." 

"And let me guess: you consider yourself more crafty because you caught me?" 

"Why not?" 

"Well for starters that dust you blew off the picture was powdered poison." 

Darkheart looked smug. 

"You're just playing mind games Silvertongue!" 

"Well very likely.  But do you want to chance it?  I will tell you if you dilute it enough you can counteract it's effects but you'd better hurry. Besides I can't escape in these handcuffs.   Let's just say I'm doing this to test you.  If you die, then I will somehow make good my escape.  If you live, I am your prize to haul in to be unceremoniously executed. Better hurry the poison works fast!" 

Greenhorn looked down at his glass, blanched and ran for the restroom. Some time later, sitting next the sink in the train car restroom, having drunk what felt like gallons and gallons of water, Greenhorn paused to consider why not just execute the bastard?  True it will deprive them of their state execution, but it'd still be an honor.  Grimly getting his machine gun ready, he peered into the compartment. 

It was empty. 

Some distance down the track, Darkheart got up, dusted himself off, then pocketed the remains of the 'escape-proof' handcuffs that he had in fact helped to design.  Complete with an almost undetectable design flaw that only he knew about.  All those years in Intelligence hadn't gone to waste after all.  He looked down the track toward where the train was going.  He smiled picturing the Lieutenant's reaction to his Houdiniesque escape.  He was a nice kid, I hope he won't get in trouble.  Most likely he wouldn't even report it.  Without him as a prisoner, who would believe him anyway? 

Darkheart turned the opposite direction and went down the tracks.  He pocketed the dusty picture and the cigarette lighter/gun.   Bless that ordinary old dust, he thought, but now onto more important matters, namely: Kari.  Since his fall from grace, he had vowed to have a reckoning with her. 

"Soon it will come true, soon." 

Darkheart began to smile again and whistled as he walked down the tracks, into the night.