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goose in the vee dropped from the sky, spiraling down as gracefully as a ballerina before hitting with
a splash. A shrill blast of a whistle goaded a pack of dogs into motion, and they galloped into the
water, the alpha male paddling to the center of the river to retrieve the goose. The racket they made
was appalling but Vlad’s attention remained heavenward, where, within the formation, another goose
had moved forward to take the place of his fallen leader. The geese flew on, their symmetry slightly
less perfect, but their pattern essentially undisturbed.
Such is nature, Vlad thought. One life barely gone before another replaces it. Order restored
before the dog can even carry the body of the dead goose back to shore.
And so it was with the imperial family.
This has been our great mistake, Vlad thought, watching the geese move across the sky until they
were nearly out of sight. We killed one tsar and another took his place, and if we kill this tsar his son
will move forward, and the formation shall remain unchanged. The Romanovs shall simply fly on, far
above us, until the end of time.
To kill one was not the answer.
You would have to kill them all.
Vlad knew such a plan would not be readily accepted by his comrades. Even Gregor, whose
bile sometimes rose to match his own, focused his fury solely upon the tsar. It was easy to hate a
tyrant who thundered out his edicts, who, with his barreled-chest and thick beard, fully looked like
the bully that he was. Any man on the street would happily take a crack at such a beast. But to accept
the necessity of dispatching of the whole family, including the blue-eyed children and the
inconveniently pretty women, required an entirely different turn of mind.
Vlad knew that he could see the truth – this had been the curse of his life, his almost singular
ability to see the truth – but he also knew that his comrades did not yet have the stomach for true
revolution. They wanted to overthrow the imperial family, not obliterate them, and it would be years
before they would grasp the necessity of his ultimate solution. Enough time for a different sort of man
to rise to the helm of the revolution. Vlad’s thoughts stuttered back to the image of the girl with the
red sash, joking with her brothers, and then leaping from the carriage before it had fully come to a
halt. How old would she be? Twelve, perhaps thirteen?
The dogs paddled back to the far shore, the alpha dropping the goose at the feet of his master
and earning a hearty pat. The others shook water and lay back down on the bank while the men
resumed their position in the blind. One goose would not feed the families of five men.