CHAPTER THREE

 

 

Taungar’s words were not a casual social invitation. Sergeants and enlisted men did not fraternise, and the Wayfarers was not a regular haunt of the Imperial guard. Konrad wore the clothes in which he had arrived in Altdorf and he had a pass allowing him out of barracks for the evening. He took a long detour to the inn, going by way of Sigmar Bridge and Oswald the Hero Bridge. While he crossed the former, he jettisoned the rest of the sailor’s clothing which he had kept hidden under his straw mattress since arriving back at the barracks. And finally he reached the tavern.

The place was no different from a thousand other inns, crowded and noisy, full of voices talking and laughing and arguing. The walls and ceiling were black with decades of soot, and the atmosphere was thick with the smell of ale, old and new: the sour reek of stale beer which had been spilled over the years and saturated the floor, and the heady aroma of hops from the fresh beer still being brewed behind the taproom.

At first he did not notice Taungar and thought he had not yet arrived, but he was sitting alone in the far corner. Even when he saw him, Konrad was uncertain for a moment that it really was the sergeant. Some men appeared smaller without their armour, but not Taungar. He was not a tall man, but he was well-built and muscular. His civilian clothes seemed oddly inappropriate to his physique and his battle-scarred face. He should have been dressed like a stevedore or a labourer, but he looked more like a wealthy merchant. He was clad in a well-cut light brown felt jacket and matching trousers, blue satin shirt, and a yellow silk scarf was around his neck, fastened by a gold pin of some elaborate design. Although almost as short as Konrad’s, his grey hair had been neatly combed. The scabbard for a dagger hung at his hip, and it seemed to be the maximum blade length that a civilian was permitted to carry. Its handle appeared to be silver.

He was smoking a pipe, and there was an almost full goblet of wine on the table in front of him. Konrad nodded in recognition and was about to turn towards the barrels at the other end of the room, but Taungar gestured for him to join him.

“Girl!” he bellowed, as though he were drilling a parade.

Konrad sat down opposite the sergeant, and a few seconds later a young girl weaved her way through the crush. She was holding a tray of full beer tankards, which she could hardly lift, and she set it down on the table.

She could only have been about twelve years old, her hair was almost white, and there was something about her which reminded Konrad of a person he had tried not to remember. Placing one of the tankards in front of Konrad, her soft brown eyes noticed him watching her and she smiled at him. Taungar paid, and she picked up the tray again and moved off.

Her smile was identical to Krysten’s: warm and honest but also mischievous.

Krysten who Konrad had almost loved. Krysten who he abandoned when he had left the mine in search of a lost dwarf temple. Krysten who had been captured by the swarms of degenerate northern invaders when the mining camp was overrun and totally annihilated. Krysten who must have been dead by now. Krysten who he hoped had died quickly and painlessly. Krysten who, he now realized, he had loved.

Konrad raised his beer stein and swallowed half the contents in a single gulp.

Taungar had been watching him, and now he said, “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Konrad shrugged.

“You don’t have to, but maybe I can help.”

Konrad looked at him. Taungar was a veteran of many campaigns; he had survived much more than Konrad could ever know: he had served throughout the Empire, he had fought and conquered every type of adversary, human and otherwise. Konrad looked around, at all the people in the inn, some of whom were within hearing distance.

“The best place to talk secretly is where there is plenty of noise,” said Taungar. “The best place to be unnoticed is where there are many people. So…?”

Konrad drank more of his beer. “Chaos,” he said quietly, and Taungar nodded wisely.

It was a word that many used but few understood, and even Konrad was uncertain of its true meaning. For the majority of the population, the foul power of Chaos was completely unknown. They went about their daily affairs never suspecting its existence, never knowing the effect that it had upon their lives and how it influenced the world in which they lived.

“It’s here,” Konrad added, “in Altdorf.”

Taungar sucked on his pipe and blew smoke from between his teeth. “I know,” he said.

“How long have you known? Since Praag?”

“Before, and I recognized the malign forces that were controlling the siege. I almost died. I’m like you, I’m a warrior. We both live on the edge of death. I was part of the relief army, and I came within a moment of dying. Sometimes I imagine that I did die, that I have been a ghost ever since.” Taungar smiled at the idea and took a sip of his wine. “Growing older makes us more conscious of our mortality, Konrad. When I was younger, I took so many risks, fought without a care for my own existence.” He took another sip from his goblet, then set it down.

“I know about Chaos,” he continued. “About twenty years ago, I was one of those who went into Castle Drachenfels to clear up the mess. I’d enlisted in the Imperial guard to fight for the Emperor—this was in the days of Luitpold—to defend him and the Empire. I was young and innocent, but I grew out of both. All my ideas about the world were turned upside down when we rode into the Grey Mountains and discovered the impossible creatures that lived in the fortress of the Great Enchanter. We tortured them, hung them, burned them, but we couldn’t wipe them from our memories. They were more than monstrous, more than bestial, more than evil. They were the exact opposite of everything human. They were corrupted by Chaos.”

“And they are here in Altdorf,” said Konrad, “plotting against the Emperor.”

“There are always plots against the Emperor,” said Taungar, very calmly.

“The skaven are going to replace him with a double.”

“He can’t be any worse than Karl-Franz.”

Konrad stared at Taungar in astonishment. This was not the reaction he had expected from a member of the Imperial guard. He had only mentioned Gaxar’s conspiracy because he needed Taungar’s assistance, and that assistance would have little to do with protecting Karl-Franz; but by focusing on this aspect, he had believed that Taungar would help him. What he needed was someone who knew Altdorf, someone who would know how to locate the hidden passages beneath the city.

“What has the Emperor ever done for me?” asked Taungar, noticing Konrad’s bewildered expression. “I have loyally served the Empire for a quarter of a century, but I am still only a sergeant. The cobalt plume is all I shall ever wear because I was not born into the right family. It took me a long time to realize, Konrad, but the only person to serve is yourself. I owe allegiance to no one but myself. Whatever I do in the future, it will only be in my own best interests.”

“But… what if the Empire is engulfed by the legions of Chaos… if we all become slaves of darkness?”

“We are all slaves without knowing it. Is one master worse than another?”

“We can’t allow the triumph of Chaos!”

“That’s all a myth spread by our rulers to make us obey them. We live in fear while they live in luxury.”

“What about Praag? That was no myth. You said you almost died! And what about all the foul creatures that you slew at Castle Drachenfels?”

“Fighting for a so-called just cause has given me nothing but pain and torment. Why should I care what happens to the Emperor or the Empire? While I still live, and whatever happens, more than half my life is already over, I want the best for me.”

Taungar’s words resonated in Konrad’s mind, because they were so similar to his own recent thoughts. His priority was to rescue Elyssa, and he wondered what price he was prepared to pay for her safety. If it were a case of the Emperor’s life for the girl’s, then there was no question but that he would choose Elyssa. It seemed almost like heresy to admit it, but there would be another Emperor after Karl-Franz, someone else to act as a symbolic head of the Empire. There was, however, only one Elyssa.

Such thoughts were no mere speculation. Gaxar had been plotting against the Emperor—and Elyssa had been in the same subterranean chamber as the grey seer.

“I’m telling you this,” Taungar continued, “because I don’t want you to waste as much of your life as I have mine.”

Konrad shook his head. “No, no. We must be able to do both, to fight against Chaos and to further our own aims. The two are not opposite ambitions.”

“You don’t understand. You are so like me, Konrad, so like the way I was.” Taungar stared intently at Konrad as he spoke, and he gripped both the younger man’s wrists with his hands. “You must let me prove to you what I am saying. Once you have seen the evidence, you will be convinced.”

This was not what Konrad had expected, and he realized he would get no help from Taungar. He was alone—as always. There was only one person who knew of Elyssa or cared about her, and that was himself. Whatever must be done, he was the only one who could and would make the attempt.

Konrad shook his hands free and stood up. “I’m going back,” he said.

“It would be best if you came with me,” said Taungar. There was no need for him to add any more. Konrad was aware that the sergeant knew he must have been involved in yesterday’s prison break, and that he could betray Konrad if he chose.

Reaching for his tankard and draining it, Konrad knew that he had little choice. He was unarmed, but if necessary he was confident that he could take care of Taungar; but another death would only add to his difficulties.

“The gentleman we shall visit also happens to be on good terms with Matthias, who is the advisor to the Grand Theogonist,” said Taungar. “If you wish, you can tell him your story about this impostor, and it will be passed on through the usual channels. That is the only way to get a hearing, because who would believe a trooper or even a sergeant in the Imperial guard?”

He took a final sip of his wine, then stood up, and Konrad could at last make out the design on his gold tiepin: it showed two naked women embracing one another. Taungar smiled and added, “But I think we will be able to persuade you that your true interests lie elsewhere. Shall we go?”

They made their way through the crowd. Taungar went first, and he looked around to make sure that Konrad was following. As he did so, he collided with the blonde girl carrying the tray. She slipped and the tray fell from her hands, the pewter tankards spilling their contents over the floor. There was silence in the taproom for a moment, as people glanced around, and then the conversations, the laughter, the disagreements continued.

Taungar swore and wiped at the drops of ale which had splattered across his trousers, then stepped around the girl, who was kneeling on the ground and picking up the empty tankards.

Konrad stopped and looked down at the girl. Now it was not Krysten who he was reminded of, but himself. He remembered all the years he had worked in Brandenheimer’s tavern, when he had been no more than a slave, when he had been beaten and kicked for every little thing that went wrong—and even when things did not go wrong.

“Trudi!” shouted a stocky, balding man who hurried from the other end of the inn. “Now what have you done?”

He was the landlord, and Konrad knew that the girl would be in for a thrashing. He stepped forward. Tonight it would be the landlord’s turn for a beating.

“I’m sorry, Herr Runze,” she said.

“So am I,” said the man. “Ah well, it was only the slops. This lot can’t tell the difference by this time of night.”

Runze turned and headed back the way he had come, and Konrad unclenched his fists. Trudi glanced up at him and she smiled once more, and for a moment she looked exactly like Krysten—the hair, the face, the eyes, the expression.

Konrad glanced away, then followed Taungar out of the door and into the night.

 

Konrad wondered if he should simply slip away from Taungar and quit the Imperial guard, but realized that would leave him in a worse situation than ever. If he did not return to the palace, he would have no base from which to operate. He would be unable to remain in the city because he would be hunted down by the Imperial guard as a deserter. He would have nowhere to go, no contacts, no money, no weapons, and without any of these his chances of ever finding Elyssa became more remote.

The fact that Taungar was not a loyal member of the guard might prove to be to Konrad’s advantage. From the way the sergeant had spoken, he must have been engaged in some form of criminal activity. That was surely what he meant when he had claimed that from now on he would only be acting in his own best interests. Altdorf was a port, so perhaps he was involved with smuggling. Imperial duties on certain kinds of imported goods were very high, and fortunes could be made by those able to supply such luxuries at reduced prices. And members of a smuggling gang were more likely to know about the secret subterranean city beneath Altdorf than the Imperial guard.

Taungar must be taking him to meet his other employer, the head of the illicit organization for which he worked. It would make sense that such a man would know the adviser to the Grand Theogonist of the Cult of Sigmar, because the most wealthy and influential people frequently had far less respect for the law than the lower orders. Konrad remembered how Litzenreich had said that laws were made by such people for their own benefit. Konrad was inclined to agree. Even should prominent citizens happen to be discovered breaking the law, at worst they would be judged by their equals and punished in the most lenient fashion. Not so a member of the more numerous, less prosperous part of society. No matter how minor their transgression, they would be dealt with very severely—probably painfully, and possibly even fatally.

As a member of the Imperial guard, Konrad’s pay was very little, and he would receive none of it until he had served for a month. Whatever happened, he doubted he would still be in Altdorf by then, and he was not averse to earning a few crowns now. The mercenaries on the northern frontier were always dreaming of ways to earn their fortunes. Even Wolf had not been immune to such financial ambition, with his expedition to discover ancient dwarf gold and gems in a lost temple in the mountains of Kislev. Wolf and Konrad and Anvila had indeed found such a forgotten temple, but there had been no buried hoard of priceless treasure—only a horde of cave-dwelling goblins.

It was over five years since Elyssa had been taken prisoner. Konrad tried not to consider the horrendous ordeals she must inevitably have endured during that time. Now that he knew she was still alive, all his senses told him not to waste a moment in finding and releasing her. But when he considered the position logically, he realized that compared to all the tortures that the girl had already suffered, an extra few days could make very little difference.

The only problem might be that Skullface had left the city since last night, taking his captive with him. If so, Konrad was already too late. Otherwise, during the coming days, he would have time to think more clearly of what he should do and make his plans accordingly. If he did succeed in tracking down the creature he had named Skullface, how could he kill such a being, one that could pull an arrow from its heart and show not a trace of a wound…?

He remembered the preternaturally thin figure, apparently the only human who had taken part in the massacre and destruction of Konrad’s village. So human, yet so alien. When he had drawn the black arrow from his bloodless chest, he had examined the crest before snapping the shaft. It was as if he had recognized the gold crest. Wolf, too, seemed to know the design when he had seen it on Konrad’s quiver.

Konrad yawned as he walked by Taungar’s side through the city. He had not slept properly since the night before last and he felt exhausted. He was not as fit as he had been on the frontier, his strength having being sapped during his weeks of capture by Kastring’s band of raiders, and then his vitality had been almost drained by the bronze armour in which he had been imprisoned. It was less than two weeks since he had arrived in Altdorf, and while he had been in the guard he had done his best to rebuild his muscles and restore his stamina.

The wounds he had suffered during the underground battle with the pygmy beast creatures had been superficial, only bites and scratches. Such apparently innocuous injuries could often prove the most dangerous, however. The saliva from an enemy’s bite might be venomous, a lethal poison which could kill very slowly and extremely painfully. But the teeth and talons of the flesh-eaters Konrad had defeated last night seemed to have borne no such deadly toxins; the injuries to his right arm and hand were well on their way towards healing. Early during his time in Kislev, Konrad had almost lost that arm as a result of a severe wound which had started to turn gangrenous. The limb had been saved by an elf with magical healing skills, and ever since then Konrad’s right arm had recovered from its wounds faster than the rest of his body.

Elyssa, too, had possessed latent powers of healing. She had soothed the wounds he had suffered when slaying the beastman which attacked her. Perhaps, somehow, it was her own magical talents which had kept her alive when the village had been overrun by the feral forces of Chaos.

Konrad did not like being in towns and cities, the way they were so enclosed. Altdorf’s fortifications seemed to be there to keep its inhabitants inside, not to exclude enemies. He felt that almost anyone he encountered could be an enemy, and there Was no way of telling who. Out on the frontier it was easy to distinguish one’s foe; not so in a city. There were no beastmen, at least not on the surface, there were only humans—but humans were the most treacherous, most deadly adversaries of all.

Because of its wealth, Altdorf had more than its share of thieves and robbers. The main streets were wide, kept lit throughout the night, and regularly patrolled, but Konrad kept listening for the sound of footsteps on the cobbles behind them. Any villains who fancied their chances would get far more than they could have expected if they tried to attack him and Taungar, although it would take a gang of footpads to attempt an assault on two men who were so obviously fit and so obviously sober. But criminals did not necessarily have much sense, and Konrad kept glancing all around and keeping wide of every alley that they passed on their journey. They remained within the northern sector of the city, making for the mercantile area, and at last their destination came in sight.

The house stood at the top of a hill some two hundred yards from the city boundary, lying behind its own white walls, which were a replica of those of the city. There was also a moat and a drawbridge, although the moat lay inside the walls, and the bridge was only crossed once access had been gained through the heavy wooden gate. Taungar had made their presence there known by using the heavy iron knocker, which was fashioned in the shape of Sigmar’s legendary warhammer, Ghal-maraz.

A slim boy, perhaps fifteen or sixteen years old, immediately opened the door, bowing low to admit them. He was clad all in white—slippers, tight breeches, loose tunic, a round cap—and he led the way to a building in the centre of the walled garden. The grounds were lit by a series of lanterns, all of them in the pattern of the fabled double-tailed comet which had lit the night sky above the Old World at the time of Sigmar’s birth. Twin beams of light shone from each of the lamps, illuminating the impressive gardens.

There were several fountains, and at their centres were various grotesque replicas of dying orcs and goblins. Water sprayed from different parts of these statues, in imitation of geysers of blood spurting from terrible wounds. They were evidently representations of the goblinoid swarms who had fallen victim to Sigmar’s vengeful hammer at the battle of Black Fire Pass. The fountains fed a number of streams which meandered through the grounds, and these were crossed by bridges each of which was a miniature of one of Altdorf’s six bridges.

Between these tiny streams, which flowed into the inner moat, lay islands of exotic trees and bushes. Although it was winter, some of these still bore ripe fruit upon their branches.

The house lay in the centre of the gardens, white walled and red roofed. The walls were built of bricks, each of which was embossed with a twin-tailed comet motif; each of the tiles was in the shape of a double hammerhead; the windows were shaped like eight-pointed stars. Another small bridge had to be crossed before the house was reached. The servant opened the door, bowed, and gestured for Taungar and Konrad to enter the hallway.

“May I take your coats, gentlemen?” said another servant, who was waiting in the entrance hall.

Konrad realized this one was a girl, identically clad and of a similar age to the other servant, her hair tucked beneath her white cap. She hung their coats on an elaborate stand, and led them along a wide passageway which was panelled in dark wood, hung with tapestries and paintings depicting the various triumphs of Sigmar. Several crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, the candle flames flickering.

She knocked at a door near the end, pushed it open, then bowed for Konrad and Taungar to enter. They went into a large room, the walls of which were lined with fancy cabinets, carved chests and various kinds of elaborately decorated furniture.

“Rolf! How wonderful to see you!”

Taungar was greeted by a man who hurried towards him. He was of average height, but far more than average girth. It seemed he was trying to disguise his width behind the loose pale blue robe that he wore, but without much success. He must have been about fifty, and his fat cheeks were a web of broken veins. His hair was grey and thinning, tied back behind his head with a ribbon which matched his robe.

He carried a ruby-studded silver goblet in one ring-laden hand.

He threw his arms around Taungar, hugging him close and kissing him on both cheeks. Konrad wondered if he could be from Bretonnia, where that was the kind of thing men did to other men.

“Hello, Werner,” said Taungar. “This is Konrad, the man I spoke to you about.” He turned to Konrad. “This is Werner Zuntermein,” he said.

“Ah, Konrad!” said Zuntermein, moving towards him. “Delighted to make your acquaintance.”

Konrad moved back in order to avoid an embrace, but instead Zuntermein raised his free hand and stroked Konrad’s face.

“What has happened? Have you been fighting?” He sighed and shook his head. “Boys will be boys.” He stood gazing at Konrad. “How handsome. And your eyes, how remarkable!”

Konrad’s eyes were different colours. They both appeared to be green, but on closer inspection the left one was gold. At one time, it was more than merely the colours which had been different. His left eye had given him warning of danger, because frequently he could see what was going to happen and act accordingly. The gift of foresight had grown more erratic over the years and he had finally lost the talent when Litzenreich had extracted him from the suit of bronze armour.

Konrad leaned back out of Zuntermein’s reach.

“A pity about the scars,” Zuntermein added, “but nothing in life is perfect, alas. Do be seated. A drink?” Without waiting for a reply, he snapped his fingers and yet another servant filled two bejewelled goblets which were identical to the one which he held.

Konrad sat down, as far away from Zuntermein as possible. The servant handed him a goblet, which was probably worth as much as he could earn in five years as an Imperial guard. Whatever it was that Zuntermein did, it was certainly a lucrative profession. The servant was dressed in the same style as the other two, but Konrad could not work out whether the third one was male or female.

“Rolf has told me that you could be one of us,” said Zuntermein, as he settled down on a couch which could have seated two people of normal dimensions.

“A follower of Sigmar?” said Konrad.

“Not,” replied Zuntermein, “exactly.”

Konrad raised his drink to his lips, and the spicy aroma which assailed his nostrils made him hesitate. He could tell that the pale liqueur was very strong, but this was a time when he needed to keep all his wits. He held the silver to his mouth for a second, as if drinking, then lowered it. Taungar had not even finished his wine in the tavern, but now he was swallowing the exotic drink as though he were dying of thirst.

“You know the advisor to the Grand Theogonist?” said Konrad, deciding that it was time for him to take the initiative.

“Matthias? Yes, I do. But he is away at present, with the Emperor.”

“The skaven are planning to kill the Emperor and replace him with a doppelganger.”

Zuntermein said nothing for a few seconds. He sipped at his wine. “Really?”

“Is that all you have to say? We must warn the Emperor!”

“If you know of this scheme, Konrad, and if it is not merely wild rumour as so many of these stories are, I am sure that those who protect dear Karl-Franz are equally aware of what is happening. If there aren’t at least a dozen threats to the Emperor every week, then it’s a very dull eight days. Never fear, he is the most heavily guarded man in the Old World.”

If those who defended the Emperor were as concerned for his safety as Taungar and Zuntermein, then Karl-Franz was in deep trouble, thought Konrad. But he said nothing else; he had more important matters to think about than the fate of the Emperor. He took a mouthful of his wine, and it was as strong as he had suspected. He swallowed it slowly, feeling the warmth trickle down his throat and radiate throughout his body. Taungar, he noticed, was holding out his empty goblet for the servant to refill.

“You served in Kislev, I believe?” said Zuntermein. “You were there during the Praag siege?”

Konrad nodded, twice.

“You have experienced more of the world already than most people do in a lifetime,” Zuntermein continued. “The real world, that is. We know what it’s like, what is happening and what will happen. We—” his idle gesture took in Konrad, Taungar and himself, “know. And we can take advantage of what we know.”

“And what’s that?”

“Chaos,” said Zuntermein.

Konrad made no response.

“The Chaos Wastes,” said Zuntermein, swirling around the contents of his goblet and staring into them. “What did you think you were doing there, Konrad? Maintaining the frontier against the northern invaders? Keeping Chaos at bay? But Chaos can’t be held back by force of arms. It knows no boundaries. It’s like the air we breathe. It’s everywhere. It’s here in the Empire, here in Altdorf.” He looked up, meeting Konrad’s gaze. “Here in this room.”

Konrad glanced at Taungar, who said nothing. All he did was smile and sup at his spiced wine.

“The air we breathe,” repeated Zuntermein. “Just as we need air to live, so we need Chaos. We are one and the same.”

Konrad put down his goblet on the enamelled table by his side and started to rise, then decided against leaving. It would be a futile gesture, because he had nowhere to go. He had decided to accompany Taungar, and now he must stay and listen to what Zuntermein had to say even though—as in the tavern earlier—this was not what he had expected to hear. He felt calm, relaxed and was under no threat; he might as well stay to finish his drink.

Zuntermein said, “Some believe that mankind is a creation of Chaos, and that is why humans make its best servants. But Chaos can also serve us, and the rewards are not insignificant.”

Konrad laughed briefly, contemptuously.

“Do not mock, Konrad,” said Zuntermein, calmly. “You have already been touched by Chaos.”

“What do you mean?” Konrad demanded—but he knew the answer.

And Zuntermein knew that he knew. He smiled at Konrad, then sipped at his wine.

“You can’t fight it, Konrad. You are part of Chaos, it is part of you.”

“What do you want?”

“We can help each other, Konrad. Join us. There has been much pain in your life. It is time that was balanced out. It is a time for enjoyment, for pleasure.”

“No,” said Konrad, and he did stand up. “I don’t think that we have anything further to discuss, Herr Zuntermein.”

“Werner, call me Werner.” He also stood up. “I hoped that we could be good friends, Konrad.”

“You hoped wrong.”

“At least let us not part as enemies.”

Zuntermein thrust out his right hand. Konrad accepted it automatically, and they shook in military fashion, palms gripping wrists. Zuntermein’s hand felt warm, very warm, and it was growing warmer while Konrad’s wrist started to become cooler. He tried to pull free, but could not. His whole arm had been rendered immobile and was being drained of all vitality.

Zuntermein was a sorcerer…

“I know where she is,” he said, and he released his grip.

Konrad staggered back, rubbing at his icy right arm with his left, trying to restore it to life.

“Who?” asked Konrad, knowing there could be but one answer.

“The one you have been thinking of.”

“Where is she? Take me to her!”

“It is not so simple as that, Konrad.” Zuntermein closed his eyes and touched the fingertips of his right hand to his forehead. “Something might be arranged, however.” He opened his eyes, and he smiled. “In fact, you shall meet her—if you promise to come to one of our social gatherings and give serious consideration to joining us.”

“I’ll do whatever you say, whatever you want.”

“I’m glad,” said Zuntermein. “Take Konrad back now, Rolf. I will send a message in a few days.”

Taungar rose and walked towards the door, and the servant opened it for him. Konrad followed him out into the hallway. He kept rubbing at his forearm, and the numbness was gradually retreating. He had so much to ask, but he did not know where to begin.

“A few days,” whispered Zuntermein, and he kissed him on his left cheek—but Konrad stepped back in time to avoid a second kiss on his other cheek.