Ecumene (No OP/ NO Harem/ No MS/ Isekai)

Part II. " Apothecary," Chapter 10. "Early in the morning..."
Part II. " Apothecary,"


Chapter 10. "Early in the morning..."



* * *​


Grandpa had a book of memoirs by Thor Heyerdahl in his library. A long time ago, Lena had read there how once, in a state of medical anesthesia, the great traveler had a vision of several circles that connected without any gaps and kept their shape. The vision was vivid and logical, but after waking up, the dreamer could not remember how it happened. The same thing was happening to Lena. The girl was besieged by vivid, frightening images, from which only vague images remained when she awoke. The visions were like a frayed arrow - impossible to reach and forget.


Dreams imply complete involvement, otherwise, they are not dreams at all, but ordinary fantasies. And accordingly, when one realizes the virtuality of what is happening, the fairy tale ends. Well, or not a fairy tale at all, depending on your luck. Elena was unlucky. Another nightmare seized her, one of those that appeared almost every night for more than six months. She was unlucky twice - she literally "dreamed" in reality, but the understanding that the dream was unreal did not help at all. Vague but threatening visions stretched in an endless series, like an old yellowed film with "cigarette burns".


Church. Celebration. Most likely a wedding. Lots of people, it seems, are artisans with apprentices. Apparently, the daughter of not the last shop master is getting married. Her face is invisible, always in shadow, her image blurred as in a mirror of badly polished bronze. Pantocrator's blessing, white capes with a green border, symbolizes purity and the beginning of a new life. Groom. Yes, only the groom can have such a face, and it, unlike the bride, is reflected very well in the dream. A simple open face of a simple and very happy man.


But somewhere in the distance, beyond the horizon of awareness, a dark streak appeared, like a storm from the sea, still far away but rushing with the speed of an express train - in a world where no one knows what an "express train" is, and the horse is the measure of all travel. And no one feels any danger.


Serene happiness reigns here. People whose lives are not long and filled with hard work are more able than anyone else to enjoy every moment of true happiness and serenity. And the storm is getting closer... It is still invisible, but it already looms over the holiday. Like in a good movie, where the cameraman and the sound unobtrusively emphasize - something will happen.


A storm is coming...


The haunting horror gripped her like the web of the Gray Shadow, softly enveloping every thought, dragging her deeper and deeper into a personal hell of terrifying phantoms.


The groom's strong hand, with its fingernails nearly trimmed, covers the bride's palm. He has the calluses of a hammerhead and the many smudges that metal pickling acid leaves behind. A blacksmith? Yes, not a weapon maker. He makes armor. He would eventually become a great craftsman and buy a charter with the right to have his workshop and brand. His armor will become famous in the West and the East. Even the sailors of the Island will order it. The smith does not know such words and does not understand the physics of the process, but the dreamer knows that the future master has discovered a way to saturate steel with carbon, strengthening its structure. So much so the forged metal can withstand even the arrows of crossbow knights from the south.


The bride has thin fingers, which already have unstretched wrinkles from the constant care of the home. Women's lot is not easy, even in wealthy homes. Equality is equality, but everyone must do the work they can do. A girl nurses her younger sisters and brothers. She takes care of the fire, fetches water from the well, cooks, milk a cow, makes butter, gathers firewood, changes candles and lamps, sews, embroiders, and spins, keeps the house clean and tidy, and grazes and feeds cattle. The bride has the hands of a girl, a woman, and a mother, who holds the world, for so it is said in the scroll of the Primordial of the world.


They will live a long life. Not always happily, but tightly. And they will not die on the same day, but one will not make the other wait long until mortal time ends. And the big family will mourn the old ones...


It will be.


And that will never happen.


Because the storm is coming. The calamity is already here. There is no escape. And he will die, struck down in a single blow. She, on the other hand...


Elena woke up. As always, in the same place, at the climax of the nightmare, when the inner eye has seen the terrible ending, but the mind has not yet had time to comprehend the vision. And all that remained was a feeling of something extreme, utterly hopeless.


Horrible.


No wonder the night was so disgusting. Mr. Cat didn't seem to be home at all tonight. Sometimes Lena was glad that the dream ended the same way - she didn't want to know what was (or only would be?) next. Sometimes she was angry, hoping that maybe the exact knowledge would relieve her from the feeling of the forbidden creepiness, the uncleanness of the dream. But there was always the annoying feeling of someone who had peeked through the keyhole at a piece of someone else's life, even though one could have just opened the door. If one knew how.


However, let the dreams remain in the world of night dreams and the day - the cares of the day. Quickly rinse herself in the deep bowl she had prepared the night before. She usually shudders at the sad thought of what the skin of her face and hands will look like in a few years, when tar soap, baked grease, and a clean towel are the pinnacle of cosmetic tricks.


Clothing. A handkerchief around the neck - spring brought a light but treacherous breeze from the ocean, imperceptibly and easily leading to bronchitis. An obligatory cap with a hemmed scarf falling down the back to hide the color of her hair. Lena would have gladly cut or dyed her hair. It was too conspicuous, even if it had darkened over the year. But neither of these things suited her status in society. Dye could only be obtained at the Venerable's brothel, and a short haircut would have put her in the category of a fully self-sufficient and independent woman such as Shena. But to be like Shena, you had to be able to kill like Shena. So Lena braided her braid and tucked it under her headdress.


The town was waking up. There were never any alarm clocks here, but the inhabitants were accustomed to living by daylight since birth. Rising at dawn, going to bed at dusk. A huge moon gave much more light than the earth one, but the very concept of nightlife was completely incomprehensible to natives - why? People worked during the day and slept at night unless they were engaged in some reprehensible activity, drank themselves to death, or went underground for Profit. That was the way Pantocrator originally set it up, and rightly so.


Downstairs, on the first floor, Mouse, the housekeeper's all-around handy, was already rattling about. There was a distinctive smell of burning oil shale. Saphir was heating the hearth. Outside the window, a junkman was pushing a four-wheeled cart, making a muffled curse over the unworthy citizens of this part of the Gate who'd grown too lazy to slaughter each other. So the night was peaceful, and once again, no one was killed, leaving the junkman, with no bonus for the corpse. The town had been relatively peaceful of late, so the famous duel between Santelli and Augen was still the brightest bloodbath of the year. Some of the brigadiers were even beginning to grumble that it was getting boring.


She pulled on her socks, which looked like slippers made of thin felt, and pondered briefly, choosing between wraps and button-up leggings. She decided the leggings were better, and they were quicker to button, and she was late enough as it was. Pantocrator forbid Matrice to notice the apprentice was late going to the market.


Pantocrator... Pushing the round wooden buttons into the threaded slots, Lena smiled sadly. She looks like a local, works like a local, and is beginning to think like a local. It was already quite natural for her to think in local terms, like "Pantocrator," a local monotheistic deity common to the whole (or almost the whole) continent.


It remained to adjust the cap, tighten the straps under her chin, and check that not a single strand had escaped from under the unshrunk cloth. By the touch. A small mirror made of polished metal plate allowed only to make sure that parts of the face were in their former place.


In general, the first three and a half months of Elena's new life were marked by sheer amazement, which turned into horror. The fact that you can't just look in the mirror. First, you have to buy it, and for the gold. From the fact that for a normal wash, you must draw water by hand, melt the hearth, heat the water, wash before it cools, and then the most interesting thing - clean the soot from the cauldron. With sand, with her bare hands, and figuring how many centuries later they would be able to invent rubber, rubber vulcanization, and the pinnacle of human civilization, household gloves. It turns out that a man can die just by pricking his finger with a rusty nail. Or, after eating a pie, diarrhea because there are no refrigerators, of course, and glaciers are expensive. To light a candle, you first had to make a fire with real incense and chaff.


And so on.


In general, the life of an isekai in a certain "medieval" turned out to be similar to the attraction, only not of adventure but of domestic horror. However, after six months, the girl was more or less used to her new life, and now, more than a year later, we can say that she has adapted. Not completely, not without Mr. Cat's help, but so much so that at times she already catches herself automatically remembering Pantocrator.


The wooden stairs creaked. Descending, Lena habitually stepped over the penultimate step, which should have been replaced long ago. The wooden soles clattered against the wooden stairs like hooves. She felt like going out on a binge again and buying new shoes after all.


Mouse was scrubbing the kettle and mumbling something under her breath, rather unkindly. She was a typical maid in her thirties, who looked twice as old because she had been in the grueling, weekend-long job since she was five or six or so years old. She seemed to hate the world, but she didn't go beyond a general, unaddressed hatred.


On the contrary, Saphir, a native of the far south, greeted Lena rather warmly but did not turn away from the hearth. The miserly grandfather saved firewood, and the flammable slate itself, which looked like gray mica with black flecks, did not ignite properly. A pot of yesterday's porridge, sparingly seasoned with bits of rutabaga, was already waiting on the table to be heated. Or, rather, what Lena decided to think of as rutabaga because the vegetable did look like a turnip, but it was beet-red in color and bitter than a black radish, so it had been soaked for at least a day before it was cooked.


Matrice was still not back from the warehouse, where she had been disappearing since last night, taking another shipment of Profit. The sinister aunt's business, in general, was clearly divided into two parts, which hardly ever overlapped, at least obviously. Lena had already become skilled enough to handle the usual apothecary business, but she had no idea what was going on in the inconspicuous warehouses where the landlady dealt with the "tarry" brigades. Nor did she want to know.


The absence of the landlady meant that Elena would most likely have to open the Apothecary. When to open? Well, it's quite simple - take the approximate hour when the first vendors gather at the market, count ten "long" prayers on the Attributes of Pantocrator - that's the time. That is, we must hurry to go to the market. She had to give up breakfast in order to have everything in time for the opening, and she didn't want to gulp down a cold one.


Knock, knock, knock. The wooden pads pounded against the stone of the sidewalk, interwoven with the similar clatter of dozens of feet. Lena threw the empty basket carelessly over her shoulder. It was necessary to greet everyone who was supposed to greet, respond to counter greetings, and not miss anyone. At no time should you forget that you are not yourself but the face of the Apothecary and Matrice personally. This is very important in a world where everyone belongs to someone and something. By breaking the rules and by showing disrespect, you bring down the honor of the corporation. And the corporation has the right to punish you.


The gloomy spring sun crept lazily over the horizon as usual, hiding behind the clouds. Lena did not like bright sunshine, but this overcast gave her a feeling of late autumn and an unpleasant chill even on warm days.


Just to say hello and bow a little to the armorer's wife, the one who sells arrows and guts for crossbow strings. A big woman in a baggy cape over her dress only waggled her chin, and that was all right.


Knock, knock, knock.


After five minutes of walking and about fifty acts of respect and reverence, Elena arrived at the market, which traditionally occupied the central square. More accurately, the vacant lot, which was considered a square. It was not even paved with stone, unlike the two main streets, on one of which stood the Apothecary. At the main entrance, an old double gallows stood orphaned, empty for obvious reasons, and no one had been executed there for years. The children had long ago converted it into a swing to make sure it was not wasted. But it was a little early for games, so the ropes just hung there, giving off grim surrealism in the style of Herman Junior... Or was it Sr. Or should it even be called postmodernism? Lena couldn't remember and mechanically shivered as she walked past the structure.


Gate was called respectfully, and from the point of view of the inhabitants of the wasteland, it was a rather large population center, in fact, a regional center. In Elena's view, it was a large village, with six hundred permanent residents and an equal number of others in a state of Brownian motion, on their way there or thereabouts. And the village made an impression of a panopticon because it was built, you might say, at the junction of two differently oriented architectural concepts. Poor buildings were built frame way when the wooden boards were put between the columns on braces and between them with special beater rammed construction mixture based on clay, dung, finely chopped straw, and other debris, as they could find. Once dry, the mixture hardened and turned into a section of the wall. It was miserable and short-lived but cheap and warm, especially, if you do not save on straw. For the richer houses, they used to reconstruct buildings left over from some old, half-tale times of the Old Empire, about which no one could say anything.


Time... Lena came from a world of linear time, which was fixed by records of events. Into the world where all events were stored and transmitted through memory and stories. For a person, there existed only what their grandfather, father, grandmother, and mother could tell them about. Anything beyond the collective memory of two or three living generations was immediately relegated to the infinity of the forbidden antiquity. How long had the Old Empire existed, of which a part of the cyclopean fortress wall and some half-destroyed buildings remained? No one could tell.


At the same time, time also played the role of distance measures. Everything that went beyond simple measures was evaluated in foot and horse traverses of varying intensity. "How far" turned into "How long this journey would take". Going after Profit, Santelli's brigade knew precisely that with a normal load, it would be able to wander on the Wastelands for about a week, that is, walk about halfway to the coast and back again. There was no way to translate that into kilometers or miles for lack of a standard, Elena knew.


Meanwhile, the market was already bustling with the morning rush. Right at the entrance, a carpenter made a billet of a deep wooden bowl on a primitive but efficient lathe with a foot drive made of a board, rope, and counterweight. As usual, Lena lingered a little longer, admiring the work. She liked to watch how the experienced hands outlined the wooden logs step by step, from kegs to spoons and flasks. It was a demanding job since the heaths were mostly willow-like trees with thin, flexible trunks, convenient for weaving from branches and forming in a steam bath but providing too little material for construction and other work with chunks. Therefore, good wood was mostly imported and was already expensive, and the price of a mistake and wasted material was measured in full silver.


Things hit Lena's perception the hardest. From the world of assembly-line production and other "guaranteed wear and tear," she found herself in a world where absolutely everything was made by hand and only in one copy. No two items were exactly alike here. And everything was incredibly expensive relative to her weekly and monthly income. There were no such things as "to wear temporarily," "for the season," and so on. Things were bought for years and often for generations, with the original expectation of repeated mending and successive staggered recycling. The shirt was worn down to a hole-in-the-hole condition, then turned into a vest. The vest became patches and scarves and so on until the last thread wore out or burned in the wick of an oil lamp.


The craftsman worked with two sons of about ten or so years old. One was sharpening a semicircular chisel on an old bar, with which the master would then smooth out the blank for the future bowl, picking out the excess on the machine. The other was just beginning to carve the spoon blank from the wood, sticking out his tongue with eagerness and firmly gripping the knife backward.


"Done," said the foreman without taking his eyes off his work.


"White wood?" just in case, Elena clarified.


"It's as white as it gets. Give it there."


This last was no longer said to her. The apprentice, who was whittling a large chef's spoon, put aside his pole and took out a double wax tablet - a writing board made of two halves fastened with cords. [3] Lena examined the product meticulously. Everything was as it should be: the base was white oak, and the wax was darkened with resin, for if it were not dark on light, but vice versa, it would be impossible to write - no lines could be made out. The wax surface is smooth, poured in one pass from a ladle rather than dripped from a candle. Excellent work and yet another reminder that even the seemingly simplest things are actually made with great craftsmanship.


I had to pay, without haggling, a full-fledged coin, the daily wage of a good foot soldier with his servant. The cabinetmaker never haggled at all. He simply set the price. If you didn't want it, don't take it. Even though Lena paid from the purse Matrice had given her the day before for the Apothecary's property, her heart skipped a beat.


Minus one concern. Next was to buy some herbs to grind for the evening. Lena walked past the shoemaker, one of the three who shoe made all the Gates. She sadly admired her dream of leather boots. The apprentice, painstakingly weaving grass insoles, caught her sad look and, instead of cracking the usual ribald joke, sighed understandingly. He was only wearing stockings with hemmed soles, the usual thing for villagers and poor people.


In fact, leather shoes were not that complicated or expensive. A typical brògan was a boot as high as the ankle or mid-shin. The front part of the shoe.was cut lengthwise, and when put on, the foot was wrapped around with a flap of leather from inside to outside and secured with ties, hooks, or cleats, or, less frequently for women's shoes, with buttons. Often even boots had such a flap and wrapped long cords around the whole height of the cuff. It was comfortable and even a bit stylish.


The problem was the sole - it was treading and scuffing through the "limit," that is, the distance that a courier or a small detachment with good spare horses[1] would cover in a day. The hell knows how many kilometers it is. There was nothing to correlate it to. Bad weather and mud shortened the service life by at least a third. And properly treated double or triple sole with horseshoes or nails, as they would say in Elena's home world, "put the product in a completely different price category." Because it went on a solid goatskin, but there were no goats on the Westlands. Therefore, often even quite wealthy people rattled leather shoes on wooden soles. They made them, she must say, very skillfully, often making the sole of two halves on a hinge.


Thus, good shoes - not fancy clothes, not a luxury good, but just good shoes - cost a few pennies of silver and required strict budgeting over months. This was a luxury Lena could not yet afford. Matrice was well aware of her apprentice's complete dependence and paid the girl no more than three groschens a day for work that would otherwise have cost at least six.


Further on, further on.


She passed the chaser, who used a chisel and a tiny hammer to hammer "gliocas" out of a sheet of thin tin - Lena didn't know the Russian name for shoelace lugs.


Past the seamstress who was threading the lacing holes in the new sleeveless jacket so the threads wouldn't come loose. Loop rings for through holes were not new, but they were very rarely used in clothing.


Past the "drummer," who shouted for people, and the preacher, who preached about the benefits of washing, shaking the hem of his fairly clean cassock defiantly. Despite the early hour, he had already gathered a small audience who were listening. Not respectfully, but at least with curiosity.


"And so, in the purity of mind and body, you will leave this world to go to a better world!" ended the minister of the cult.


"And where can we get fire for washing?" someone from the crowd sneeringly voiced. "The water needs warming, and fire-rock is expensive these days!


The clergyman didn't hesitate to answer:


"And when you die, He will ask you - my son, did you keep your body clean? And you honestly say to Him - forgive me, Father and Comforter, I did not care about your commandments because I was sorry for a few extra pennies!"


To the general offended laughter, the critic hurriedly retreated. Elena walked on toward the herbalists.


A frowning, obviously sleep-deprived "tar man" brought the "drummer" an old chainmail with rips, yellowed from the raid, apparently picked up from a corpse. A few pennies were exchanged, and the cleaner slipped the armor into a "skinner," which looked like a small concrete mixer. He twisted the knob, and the armor spun in a barrel of sand, cleaning off the rust and dirt.


At the alchemist's shop, Lena bought a quarter cup of sulfur for an ointment for joint pains. All sorts of arthritis and nail problems were the bane of the "tar men," who plundered the dungeons off the coast, hunting "healing" creatures. It was about to be the season for these brigades, so there would be plenty of ointments, and it made sense to stock up on the ingredients ahead of time.


As usual, when dealing with yellowish combustible powder, Lena sadly recalled her attempts to make gunpowder. She didn't remember for long, though, because she had to make way for the cemetery keeper. The cemetery grandfather dropped his recent sadness and very cheerfully rolled his "hearse" with a freshly dead body. Very fresh, the blood was still dripping through the boards of his cart, leaving a dotted trail, trampled by passersby. Judging by the dead man's distinctive hair and mustache (who, incidentally, was not stripped naked for some reason), he was a visiting brether from the Kingdoms. Not a common bird, though, not exactly rare. For a moment, Lena thought her grandfather was carrying Ranyan's body and a warm wave of hope shot through her heart. But no, it seemed...


Too bad. She would have gladly taken the dark-haired routier to the creepy, terrifying Farm. Alive or dead, it didn't matter as long as it was a one-way trip. She was tired of flinching every time she saw the ominous figure, wondering if Ranyan recognized her or not... Tired of hiding her hair. She was tired of playing up her exaggerated Southern accent and reminding herself every minute that, according to legend, she was just another refugee from the continent. Tired of exhausting labor for a pittance, almost a handout. Tired of being afraid. And something told Lena that no matter who placed the order on her, the offer wasn't off the table.


And the dead man seemed to have been driven from the market stall, where there was a certain amount of excitement. It seemed that even the familiar beard of Santeli flashed. However, Lena did not want to communicate with the brigadier any more than she did with Ranyan. The servant, meanwhile, had brought out another load of dirty pewter bowls from the canteen to be washed. Lena shuddered again, like at a postmodern gallows.


She had learned long ago that a person could get used to almost anything, but only almost. And you can tell yourself all you want that letting the pigs lick the dishes and then rinse them clean is reasonable, given the lack of hot water and dogs, which could be used according to Strugatsky's recipes. Especially since the local pigs hardly looked like the fattened pigs of the era of compound feed and scientific selection. They were lean, athletic, and surprisingly intelligent creatures, weighing no more than twenty or thirty kilograms,[2] more like bull terriers with nickels. Still, it was a shame.


The blacksmith was not to be seen today. The special set Lena had ordered on behalf of the Apothecary would not be made for another five days, maybe even later. It was easy to explain to the master what she needed by showing her diagrams on wax tablets. The smith could not understand why saws and knives should not have any bone or even wooden handles, leaving only bare polished metal, having decided the apothecaries mocking his skills. So he worked on the order like in a classic Soviet movie - "I can't do it in ten days. I need an assistant."


And here was the cart with the "hogweed". Of course, it was not hogweed but something very similar. On the one hand, the weed was harmful and deadly, but at the turn of spring and summer, it bloomed and turned out to be a worse allergen than ragweed. For two weeks or so, all traffic in the Wastelands came to a standstill because about a third of the lesions ended in death (apparently from anaphylactic shock), while the remaining victims were condemned for the rest of their lives to special masks with wet soaks of the local plantain analog - the pollen burned out the respiratory tract mucosa completely.


On the other hand, collected by special collectors in layered robes and those very masks, the grass was dried and sold for real silver. It was even "exported," mostly to the northwest, to the Baronies. When used in washing or bath, broth of hogweed did not harm health and skin at all, but destroyed all small parasites and bloodsuckers like lice and bedbugs. And "tar men" was used a dry bundles in hikes, against parasites and to repel the characteristic smell of unwashed body, to which all sorts of entertaining creatures would come from the darkness.


Lena was lucky in one respect: she was in some more "advanced" version of the Middle Ages. Here bodily cleanliness was not only encouraged but directly prescribed by religion. Every God-fearing person had to wash at least once a day and wash their clothes at least every week. It seems that this attitude to cleanliness (as well as the position of women in society) was one of the consequences of a little-understood but monstrous cataclysm that swept over the continent centuries ago. But Elena had not yet been able to find out more about it.


A row of herbalists began just beyond the cart. Lena prepared a basket, repeating her shopping list to herself.


Crying root - causes lacrimation, and "gives lightness to the eye". It is often used by novice brigades. Concentrated decoction sharply and permanently improves night vision, it is useful for going under the ground, and you can save on "eternal lamps". But there are nuances... Take. Here one can haggle, but without fanaticism, for the procedure.


And here is Triclin, good proper two-year-old shoots, when the plant is already in vigor but has not yet vaporized its power to seed. The juice of Triclin is good to treat chafes, as well as smears on burns. Summer is coming, the time of the "evil sun" is coming, and they need to stock up. Only the juice needs to be "clarified," that is, filtered, so it keeps for a long time. Let's take it. And to it necessarily Vesil, this strengthens the kidneys, which is very useful when the excretory system is overloaded, removing toxins and decay products from the body. And that's what happens with burns.


Paraclete herb, a local panacea. Dry, pour hot water in the evening, but not boiling water. Take "on a lean heart", that is, early in the morning, before a meal. Increases the tone and purifies the blood and intestines. If you add watermelon syrup, significantly relieves stomach pains. The only thing that helps drug addicts who are hooked on drinking ether dope (which actually should be inhaled) and puked up to an ulcer (judging by the symptoms). But it requires complete abstinence from alcohol a few days before and after the course, otherwise, it leads to terrible diarrhea turning into dysentery. It is said that for churchmen, the herbal shoot is a secret sign, roughly like the fish of the first Christians. A symbol of bodily health, requiring knowledge and austerity. There's a lot of chatter, though. We take it.


Balzevets or "hard root" - compresses for poisons, especially field hornets. No, this is last year's harvest; it will be time to stock up on fresh ones closer to fall.


And here is plantain, which looks like burdock and aloe simultaneously with very stiff fibers - "it creates great space to the breathing veins, pulls wrinkles and drives out warts". Indispensable for superficial skin lesions. It is sold directly in pots with imported soil because it does not take root in the local soil. But a fantastic thing is that the Wasteland water not only doesn't harm the plant but, on the contrary, multiplies its healing properties. The leaves are wrapped in wet rags, corked in jugs, and taken on raids for compresses on abrasions and shallow wounds. And fiber threads from the shoots should be carefully pulled, soaked in vinegar, and sewed wounds. It is not even necessary to extract them from the scars. Treads dissolve themselves. She needs to arrange the delivery so the cart with pots is brought to the Apothecary. And a deposit.


Sunner seeds are for chewing. They are very bitter, but they strengthen the gums and brighten the teeth. Lena suspected this crap also has anti-scurvy properties, but she hasn't been able to check it out yet. She bought some, purely for personal use, to bargain for a penny. The later she has to resort to the wonders of local dentistry, the better. Even sleepy leeches did not help with toothache, so by a good tradition, the suffering came to pull a tooth in the company of at least four friends to hold hands and feet. And five, if the operation plan was to put to death the diseased nerve by concentrated extracts of Balzevet. A gruesome procedure.


And here's the most valuable thing of all. Dukes' Rod is a very rare thing, it is reliable, but at the same time gentle in expelling kidney and bladder stones... but it's hardly ever used for that purpose. The herb is also lucky enough to be a powerful aphrodisiac, so Matrice buys it up outright, blends it into elixirs, and resells it to Gee at an entirely different price. It's a good idea to have a Water Navel as well as a Risnica for abscesses and sores, as the liver and kidneys are going to die from an overdose of stimulants. Perfect pharmaceuticals - the drug sells itself and pulls a few more in addition.


Again, no haggling. The prices of the ingredients for the aphrodisiacs are always negotiated by Matrice herself. And the money is measured in advance in a separate leather wallet with a seal.


Chernaba - grind dried berries and make compresses against "wild meat", that is tumors and scar tissue.


Beer Berries are completely neutral, but the powder from them adds flavor and a nice sourness to bitter-astringent elixirs.


Babon - to drink with hot wine for swelling.


That seems to be everything.


Lena imagined how, towards evening, she would begin to grind it all until the pungent smell of herbs made her dizzy, and she shuddered. And tomorrow. And the day after that. But there was not much choice. As Santelli had rightly remarked at the time, the girl's hands were her capital. Sensitive, not "crammed" by years of work to the point of losing fine motor skills, but at the same time, strong enough. And all this for three pennies a day, damn it. With the unspoken straightforward but distinctly felt threat of otherwise seeing the figure of Ranyan on her doorstep one day, who this time won't miss his victim for a few minutes.


Something else had to be done... And quickly because soon it would be time to open the Apothecary. Lena quickly went over her shopping list in her mind and then realized that it seemed that she would have to wrap it up right now.


There had never been any messengers in the town, for they were completely unnecessary. It was enough to call any child, and for a quarter of a penny, he would deliver any message within the city limits. Or even further, but for half a penny. And so, amidst the baskets, barrels, wheelbarrows, hats, hoods, and capes, there was a wispy head that was pointing very purposefully toward Elena.


The boy was quite typical, that is, ragged, barefoot despite the chilly morning, and pretty out of breath. He pressed his right fist to his skinny chest, with the other hand over it to be sure. This meant that the boy had been well paid, much more than usual, or the coin would have been in his mouth, behind his cheek. And that could only mean one thing...


"Hel?" exhaled the messenger and immediately corrected himself. "Master Hel?"


As he spoke, the boy exhaled all the air and gasped for air. The "Master" nodded silently, slipping the heavily weighted basket onto her other shoulder. She checked her fanny pack with the money. Pickpockets were rare in the Gate, for when a thief was caught, he was escorted back to the Farm, alive if possible, without further legal proceedings. Those who managed to get out of it were remarkably clever and inventive. They were capable of diverting the attention of their victims with a clever move.


"There ... that ..." exhaled the young messenger as he continued to clench his whitened fingers with the reward. "Well ... that ... that's..."


Elena waited until the boy finally managed to produce something articulate. And he didn't let her down, giving off a solid rattle:


"There Mr. Ian brought a wounded man with a leg that is just horrible and blood yellow and no Matrice and when she will be no one know, and Safir sent for you to tell that the vein under the wound barely beats, here!"


And immediately disappeared, only flashed black heels, keratinized to the state of hooves.


Elena translated the tirade into meaningful concepts and hurried to the Apothecary. If it was really that serious, then if she'd forgotten anything, it would have to wait. "Yellow blood" and "a vein barely beats..." Ceud mìle diemonis cursdadt an talamh agus an abyzes aif hal!


The day promised to be unboring from the start.


* * *​
[1] 40-50 km. Therefore, modern reenactors who are fond of long-distance hikes in the original outfit necessarily recommend taking a spare pair of shoes (and felt insoles).

[2] By the way, it corresponds to the truth. The domestic animals of the High Middle Ages were, from our point of view, dwarfed, half the size of those we are accustomed to.

[3] We traditionally think of the wax tablet as an inherent attribute of antiquity. However, in fact, wax tablets were used in Europe up to and including the 19th century.
* * *​

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Chapter 11. "The primary suture is not sewn"
Chapter 11. "The primary suture is not sewn"
* * *​
Santelli was furious, but he did it calmly, in a controlled way, which made it doubly frightening. Even the plaits on his temples seemed to have risen high, his beard billowing like a woolly flame around his lower jaw. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hand was literally gripping the axe's headband at his waist. But his voice remained steady, exaggeratedly calm.

"Stupid prick..." the foreman said quietly, emphasizing the end of each word. "Stupid narcissistic prick..."

His fingers clenched so tightly on the axe that it looked as if the metal were about to shake and the axe would crack. But the flesh was weaker, and the foreman shook his whitened fingers in the air.

If the performance of rage had somehow impressed Matrice, you couldn't tell that from the apothecary's face. The stern woman did not flinch a muscle as she gloomily watched the tavern attendants wiping blood from the walls. There was a lot of blood, but it didn't interfere with the other customers.

The brether arrived with the new caravan of settlers before dark. Everything was as it should be - shoulder-length hair, mustache and beard, a long two-handed sword, and an arrogance that made the grass on the side of the road wither. The only thing unusual about him was an old leather pouch with a bronze badge stamped with the monogram of Paraclete. Battalion healers from the east used to keep all their gear in it.

The brether misbehaved from the get-go. Instead of going to the address and reporting (and receiving the agreed second quarter of the stipulated fee), he went to the tavern, where the sleepy servants were preparing for another day's work. This was not, after all, the Venerable Gee's tavern, where wine flowed all day long, from dusk to dawn and vice versa. There, in the tavern, the newcomer had behaved wrong, too. He bullied the early guests who wanted to soak their throats with a light beer early in the morning or warmed wine to make them stand warmer at the counter.

The serious people who happened to be in the place looked on with mild bewilderment but without much aggression, so the traveling dude had a good chance of making a fool of himself without repercussions. Well, except to earn himself a reputation as a bad-tempered, squabbling, and uncommunicative man, but who does anyone think that way? But the brether had the misfortune to mess with a gang of three petty criminals, the usual small-time pipsqueak who hang around the newcomers, pushing bad merchandise, trying to outbid the Profit, and, if possible, making a living from petty robbery. And the brether mess hard, to the point of pulling knives. That's where it starts...

What the brether was trying to achieve was unknown, for it was useless to ask him. Perhaps (and even more likely) he decided to put himself properly. Or maybe something else... One way or another, in response to being shown the knives, he did not cool down like a decent person and did not draw any conclusions about his behavior. Brether did not try to somehow resolve the conflict but pulled out his saber.

The first felon was cut down beautifully. One might even say, artistically. With a red fountain to the ceiling, not a single drop on the blade, and everything else, like in ballads. It was clear at once he had his saber on his belt by right, and he must have a real swordsman fraternity diploma stashed somewhere in his jacket. While the serious men were feverishly trying to figure out what to do with all this, the brether set out to put the other foe down and knocked the knife out of his hand, shortening several fingers in the process. The outlaw, sensing that the end was coming, plucked from his belt and threw at the brether only thing was under his whole, unchopped hand. That is a pouch of ground Mandrake. The same one that is then distilled into "liquid amber".

The brether was cool and dashing; he slashed the pouch gracefully in midair and stepped toward his opponent, swinging his blade for the decisive blow. He stepped straight into a golden cloud of Mandrake dust and collapsed in utter unconsciousness from his first breath. Because no man has ever been born who can withstand the evil plant in its pristine form without softening through elixirs.

The visiting duelist was hastily stabbed, and that was the end of the adventure, originally diversifying the life of the bored Gate. The weapons and other equipment, for lack of brothers and relatives, went to the tavern. The old gravedigger cleaned up the body according to his right, sanctified by years of tradition. The slain outlaw was gone, too, most likely dragged away by his accomplices to burn and scatter the ashes.

And that would have been all right. But the brether was ordered from the Kingdoms by Santeli, under great secrecy, and for very good payment, and not in "good," but "soldier's," it is one-third heavier than an ordinary gold coin. And who cares about the coins, Pantocrator gives, Pantocrator takes away, and then gives again. It is a mundane matter. Especially since the dead man received only a third of the total amount. But the brether and his bag were already tied up in a serious and imminent enterprise, and finding a full-fledged replacement for him in the remaining days seemed an absolutely impossible task.

So the foreman was in a state of quiet rage, and the Mistress of the Apothecary was in intense contemplation.

"Should we cancel?" Matrice finally offered.

"No way!" snapped Santelli sulkily, but he caught her disgruntled look and remembered he wasn't talking to an errand girl. "No, we can't," he said a little more calmly, without grasping the axe. "It's all been arranged..."

"But we don't have a healer and a fighter anymore," Matrice reminded her. "There's nowhere to get one."

"There are no stalemates, only limits of risk," the brigadier said unexpectedly to himself. Sometimes he uttered sudden aphorisms, vague but beautiful.

Matrice glanced with seeming distraction at the servants, who were smearing red puddles on the floor. The morning's revelers, not embarrassed by the recent bloodshed, were already clattering mugs of scraped pumpkins, the cheapest and most discarded utensils, on the tables. The more respectable crowd was sipping their pewter mugs in a dignified and imposing manner. Among them was Kai, who had missed all the excitement and was not imposing his society on the brigadier. The swordsman didn't drink as much as he waited for the commander to finish talking.

"No healer, no fencer," Matrice repeated. "Would you risk it without them?"

"Our secret knight will do for a fencer," Santeli said quietly, turning back to the wall as if casually covering his mouth with his hand.

"Discussed," Matrice grimaced as she covered her lips, her smooth face twitching with a grimace and discontented wrinkles like an old mural crumbling with dampness. " It won't work. Kai is good, but he knows knightly, martial combat, and that's not the case here. It takes a brether, a real, urban brether."

"For lack of..." The brigadier did not finish his famous and scabrous joke parodying the obscene customs of the South.

"No, that won't be okay," Matrice pursed her lips.

"And we have a healer, already," said Santelli, pretending not to hear his companion's remarks.

"Fuck you," Matrice twisted her fist and unashamedly showed it to her business partner. "The redheaded wench is going to come in handy."

"Didn't you complain the other day that she was useless?" reminded the foreman sneeringly. "And that you overpaid for the redhead?"

"I am," the pharmacist didn't wiggle. "So what? No matter how much milk she gives, it's all mine."

"Give it to me to raid," the foreman suggested bluntly.

"I won't," Matrice retorted. "The girl's not hopeless or armless. She's useful. What she's got is what she's got. But she's no field girl, you know. It still makes her face prickle when she puts the wool on her naked body. When pigs are slaughtered, she almost vomits. And when she found out why we don't have a cemetery and who lives on the Farm, she was shaking her hands all day and broke the measuring cup. She still cries at night, a day or two later, when she thinks I can't hear. She calls for her mother in her sleep, all in a strange language."

"I'll attach Shena to her," Santeli promised very seriously. "To stand over her day and night, to keep her safe."

"I won't," Matrisa repeated. "You'll kill the girl, and it won't do me any good or profit."

"Damn, you..." Santelli literally choked the curse that was bursting from his throat. "As if I'm the only one interested in this! The money is yours!"

"Yeah," Matrice agreed, looking at the scattering of red droplets that had managed to dry on the ceiling, among the sooty rafters. "And four coins have already gone by the..."

She wasn't finished. Santelli gritted his teeth. There was nothing to say.

"Find a fencer," Matrice advised me, suddenly very seriously. "A good one, one that will definitely be useful to our cause. Then I'll think about Hel. But I'll only think about it," she clarified at once.

The foreman judiciously assessed his ability to find a real brether with a certificate within two or three days. Quietly cursed and called Kai. More precisely, he waved his hand, showing that now he was free to talk. The swordsman greeted Matrice with a nod, leaned close to the brigadier's ear, and whispered briefly. With each word, Santelli squinted more and more, until his already narrow eyes drowned in a network of wrinkles.

"So you'll think about Hel if I find a fencer?" repeated the brigadier, looking sharply into the apothecary's eyes. And he said as if he had chopped with an axe. "Start thinking."

He came out of the joint sharply, shoving some inopportune man out of the way. He was about to shout indignation at the brigadier, but Kai, following him, glanced briefly at the suburban - judging by his clothes - man, and all the indignation was stuck in his throat.

* * *

Saphir had already opened the back door of the Apothecary, which led to the annex that served as the operating room. Well, that is, as... it would be more correct to say that it was a versatile room for droch obair, "dirty work". It was used to pile up flora for bulkheading and drying and to store excess oil shale. On occasion, Matrice would negotiate here, unbidden by outsiders' ears. Sometimes pork was cut and salted. And not only pork, for from the point of view of the natives, man, and pig are the same meat, so amputations were carried out on the same deck.

Six months ago, at Elena's insistence, a large table was set up in the center of the big barn instead of the deck, which she personally scraped and scalded with boiling water before any operation. Matrice had been skeptical, but the patients did heal more easily and quickly. Not by much, however, enough. So that the endeavor of "Master Hel" was tacitly accepted.

On the table lay the "tarred man," held by a couple of his friends; the fourth, the foreman, stood at a distance, grimly rolling a coin on his knuckles, a royal coin, green and incredibly false even in appearance.

The narrow and long windows, obscured by thin mica plates under the single-pitch roof, provided little light, so Saphir lit three additional magical lamps, "eternal lamps." Lena handed him the shopping basket and greeted the foreman sparingly, trying not to waver in her voice or face. She had not yet had the opportunity to do the treatment alone, and a man named Jan was strictly unpleasant. But the unwritten tradition required that treatment be given as soon as a patient was admitted. It was getting to the point where she would have to work alone for the first time.

For a while, Elena thought that all gangs of fortune-seekers (called "brigades" here) were the same - gatherings of bastards and scoundrels willing to risk their lives and souls (whether they existed or not) in search of Profit. Pretty quickly it became clear that this was not the case. The brigades were quite clearly divided by specialization, coverage territories, numbers, marketing, and so on. The Santelli Brigade, for example, was a solid and respected "middle class" that worked on gold and not-too-strong artifacts in the dungeons and was tied to marketing in the Gates.

But there was a separate category of brigades, few in number and questionable even in terms of the very flexible morality of the Wastelanders. Their name was "shepskate," which literally translated as "greedy," but it had a second meaning: greed that drove them to cannibalism. The "shepskates" did not seek the Profit themselves. They preyed on those who had already harvested it and carried it to one of the five main cities of the Wastelands for sale. And since an attempt on an ordinary "tar man" could be sent to the Farm, the "greedheads" were catching newcomers who had no one to intercede.

New people arrived on the Wastelands all the time, fugitives from the Kingdoms, ready to stake their lives in pursuit of fortune or escape from poverty. Some were settling on the land, which was plentiful and hard to work. Some bought equipment with their last coin and went into the dungeons. Most of them died, and no one cared whether it was the claws and teeth or the blade that cut the life of another poor soul. It was his incessant influx of fortune-seekers that a year ago saved the life of Elena, who, with the help of Matrice and Santelle, was simply lost in the motley crowd of the Gate. It was also the one who sustained the existence of the "greedy".

Jan, nicknamed "Meat", was the most famous, the most successful shepskate foreman. And the most cautious, because he had been practicing his craft for years, keeping his head intact. And he got his nickname for a perfectly performed tattoo all over his body, from his heels to his chin. The two-painted drawing very accurately reproduced the body with the skin removed, down to the tiniest muscle. It was said to be the hallmark of thieves' communities from the southeast.

"What's the matter with him?" Lena asked, tugging the bonnet tighter and tucking up the sleeves. The experienced Saphir had already brought a leather rolling pin with tools and was rattling the cauldron as he prepared hot water. Jan moved his jaw as if chewing the words before releasing them. His tightly pressed lips made him look like he was about to fold them into a puff and whistle, and his face took on the chronically disgruntled expression of a money changer. The "merchant" face did not match the tattoo that ran up his neck from under his collar or the shaved back of his head, the hairstyle of a warrior who lived by the blade.

"He cut himself," the foreman said sparingly while Lena put on a leather apron and wiped her hands with a tincture of "hogweed". This replaced spirit, which was called here "dead water", and cost a lot of money. The girl did not elaborate. It was very fraught. Attempts to make a precise diagnosis were perceived as dangerous sneaking.

Lena tied a mask of well-washed rags on the blindfolds and bit her lip as she cut the first knot in the bandage. As usual, she longed bitterly for gloves. Regular latex gloves, three rubles a pair which had no price here since there was nothing to make them out of except pig and lamb guts.

"Saphir, leeches," Elena ordered briefly before she had even finished unwinding the bandage on the sufferer's leg. The very faint pulse below the wound and the yellow pus drips already spoke for themselves. "Primary suture," damn.

In junior high, third or fourth grade, Lena read Benzoni's old book series Catherine for a while (until her mother put a stop to this activity, which she felt could be harmful to an immature child's psyche). The books were romantic and funny, and in one part, a character was severely wounded. The old Muslim physician had a long time to heal the wound while angrily condemning the Christian healers who rushed to stitch everything up.

When the girl shared the story with Grandpa, he suddenly became interested and said that, say, it is possible to find a grain of truth in a pulp book. And then, he gave a short but very emotional lecture on the "primary suture", i.e. the one that is applied immediately after the primary surgical treatment of the wound. And to this day, it is a big problem because being executed incompetently, with bad treatment, gives an ideal place to all kinds of evil germs, so that in the thirty-ninth year, it was even forbidden to sew in medical-sanitary battalions, so great was the percentage of complications.

And now Lena saw with her own eyes the consequences of hasty darning of an untreated cut - inflammation, infection, suppuration. The wounded man fell into a half-delirious state with convulsive muscle contractions, and while his partners held him tightly, the girl began to carefully open the stitch and Saphir brought leeches in a jug of clean well water, heated in the sun.

The Sleeping Leech was definitely Pantocrator's gift to the world. In nature, they grew continuously and could reach a meter or more in length. They injected a toxin into the bite area that combined the effects of an anesthetic and a hallucinogen. Since they usually attacked in packs, the victim received so much poison at once that he never woke up again, turning into a bloodless mummy, unfit even for the Farm. But if you take the risk and collect small things no longer than the palm of your hand, leeches served as an excellent painkiller. And a half-meter specimen allowed to do quite complicated operations, such as excising tumors and removing gallstones from the gallbladder. Several brigades earned very well on the supply of leeches from swamps, though they paid for it with "dry joints", i.e. chronic rheumatism.

Leeches could live long, but only within the Wasteland. So sometimes even wealthy aristocrats, suffering from stones and overgrown "wild meat," undertook journeys with their own medicine men to experience the miraculous properties of the marsh creepers (here, no distinction was made between amphibians, reptiles, and ringed ones). Or, at the very least, to "drain the bad blood," which had a tangible tonic effect.

Stitch by stitch, Lena bisected the thread of the suture with small scissors and pulled the scraps from the inflamed tissue with bronze tweezers. Her hands almost didn't tremble, even when her finger accidentally touched the watery skin. She wore a mask mainly so that no one could see the "master" breathing with her mouth, making grimaces. Lena never got used to the smell of the affected tissues. Fortunately, however, she did not feel the characteristic heavy stench of gangrene. This gave her hope that the operation would be easy.

Meanwhile, Saphir sucked two gray-green leeches behind the patient's ears and an equal number on his neck to the carotid arteries. The poor man was calming down before her eyes, falling into unconsciousness. Finally, Lena pulled out the last of the thread and pulled apart the edges of the swollen wound.

Yes... "сut," indeed. The wound bore all the hallmarks of a chop, but not with an axe, but rather with a long blade. It had been struck with force and pulling, barely reaching the bone and miraculously not hitting an artery. Whoever Jan's bandits robbed had sold his life dearly. Or maybe a fight among their own, easily...

Elena glanced at the patient's face, making sure the leeches had worked. She took out a bone-handled knife and small pincers with a predatory curved beak. She tried it on, carefully hooked the first scrap of grayish flesh, and lowered the blade of the knife.

Little by little, little by little. Piece by piece. Executive Saphir poured a thin stream of saline solution into the wound, washing away clots of pus and coagulated blood. The wound was bleeding again, but it was bearable for now.

"Take the belt," Elena ordered one of the tarred ones, cursing herself for forgetfulness. The hand trembled slightly, and the blade sliced through the capillary, adding the blood. "Wrap his leg above the knee. If the vein fails and bursts open, pull it over at once."

They knew how to make tourniquets, and they even knew not to hold them for a long time. Or, on the contrary, they could and should. In very remote places, they used to execute thieves and rapists by tying the instrument of crime tightly together, holding it for a few hours, and then letting it go in peace to a painful death from necrosis.

As usual, she began to feel nauseous. Lena hated surgery, or rather she hated the fear that overwhelmed her every time she had to cut into a living body. Fear of making a mistake because all teaching here consisted of "do as I do," and the nearest anatomy textbook was, by a very rough estimate, several hundred kilometers southeast. Fear of killing the patient. Fear of paying for it to Matrice.

At such moments, detachment from the process and primitive auto-training helped. It's not her doing everything. It's the manipulator of the medical robot. She's just observing. Clearly dead to cut off. Alive flesh to leave. The questionable one is gently poked with the tip of the knife. The healthy muscle will contract and let a drop of blood out.

"Sew red with red, yellow with yellow, white with white. It's sure to be good that way." Where did that come from, and why did it come to mind now? No, she can't remember[1]. To hell with it. Sweat came out in copious drops on her forehead, but the tight cap held back the salty sweat, keeping it out of her eyes.

So... it seems that's it. And some more saline. To be exact, a lot of it, it's not to be spared here. To think the salt, the usual penny salt, which her family used to cook chicken on a griddle, was now an expensive resource, which was measured with spoons and bought for a lot of money. Because it came from coastal saltworks. Without salt, it was impossible to preserve food. So Saphir essentially washed the wound with liquid silver. Though, it was still not the Apothecary who had to pay in the end, but the customer, i.e. Jan.

The full ritual demanded a final sniff of the wound, and experienced medics could make very accurate diagnoses that way, but it was beyond Lenya's strength. The girl feared she would vomit right into the open flesh, trembling with bluish veins. And it was not with her sense of smell to try to sniff out the smell of rot in the heavy, stuffy atmosphere of the "operating room".

Saphir took away the pumped leeches by splashing them with saline. He put them back into the bottle to release them into a special barrel with a weekly water change. In a couple of weeks, the creepers would be ready for use again. It remains to apply a compress of plantain. Cut a fleshy palm-wide leaf lengthwise, cut one part, and squeeze firmly, squeezing the juice directly into the wound. The other is gently bandaged over it with a clean rag.

That's it. The rest is in the hands of the Paraclete.

"Don't stitch the wound right away," the girl said forcefully, pulling the mask down so it hung around her neck. Her arms were tired. Her lower back was tired. Her legs in wooden boots cramped with little cramps.

"Other times, just bandage it up and take it into town."

"Yeah," Jan agreed vaguely. He looked at his man, who was still in a distant land of leech dreams. He asked. "How do you pay? How much for everything? We'll do the count right now."

He asked vigorously, assertively, demandingly. He even stepped close, trying to hover over Elena (which, with her height above the average female of the Wastelands, didn't work out so well). A familiar ploy, unsophisticated and sneaky. A member of the corporation no longer belongs to himself. They are part of the community. Accordingly, when they make a promise of a job, they answer on behalf of the entire corporation, which replaces the birth family of the disciple and apprentice. And who is she to discuss money matters bypassing the master? And how can she claim a wage worthy of a master when she is an apprentice?

Elena shook her head, wiping her hands with the towel. Her fingers felt sticky like they were soaked in warm lard. It was as if someone else's blood had seeped down to her bones and joints. And Jan kept waving his hands and demanding, offering, insisting. Saphir grimaced, but kept silent, for he did not do the work himself, only helped, and therefore had no rights, so his interference in the bargaining would be a display of blatant disrespect.

"Matrice. You have an agreement with her," the surgeon slowly and carefully chose her words willy-nilly. "You discuss everything with her."

"Who took the knife in the hand?" pressed Jan systematically. "Who did the job? Matrice? I didn't see her here! You were working. You came and worked yourself. Everybody saw it. Why should I decide our business with Matrice!"

Lena looked silently at the foreman. The day had just begun, and she hadn't slept through the nightmare, was dead tired from the operation, and then the insults of "greedy" pressed her brain. She wanted to go along with it just to finally get it all over with. Some stupid, incomprehensible state of sleep in the waking state drowned her thoughts, dissolving the will like a sugar cube with warm water. An inaudible bell rang in her head. That's how scams are made. The victim begins to be psychologically pressured and driven into utter hopelessness. So that the consciousness enters the "tunnel" when the only wish remains that all of this, finally, is over. And it seems the only way out is to agree with the aggressor.

Rage and indignation splashed over her soul like steep boiling water. And immediately burned into hatred, as if in a magical retort of an alchemist. She was a man of the twenty-first century who had adapted to life in the medieval, who had learned to understand herbs, to make elixirs and poultices, to cut living people without vomiting into open wounds, at last! She has been taken as her apprentice by the dreaded Matrix, who has her share in all the affairs of the Gate, even the Farm. She is greeted first by Santelli, whom everyone knows, and everyone respects! And who's in front of her? A damn yakuza with tattoos! A bastard who's too cowardly to go down into the dungeons for Profit, so he robs the bolder and more determined.

Keeping the blinding fire of hatred inside her like a flaming welding sting in a stream of oxygen, Lena lifted her head and looked directly into Jan's eyes. She clapped her hands loudly to break the trance they were trying to drive her into. That's what her grandfather had taught her. An unexpected action, a loud sound, anything to break the flow of well-considered aggression.

"Matrice," she pronounced clearly, separating the words. "All. Business. With Matrice."

Jan crushed her with a vicious stare for a few moments, but the girl easily withstood the rest of the hateful outburst. It wouldn't have worked with Santelli, but it did with the "greedy" one.

"Whatever you say," Jan rolled back quickly and easily as if nothing had happened. "I'll come by in the evening."

"I'll tell her as soon as I see her," Elena replied ceremoniously, realizing that her every word was still being watched closely. "It has been a pleasure doing business with you, herra - mister."

The operation had exhausted her, mostly mentally. And the psychological battle with Jan devastated her to the core, so much so that all she wanted to do was lie down on the nearest bench and fall asleep. At home, Lena would have done just that, calling in sick. And let the world wait! As long as there was a warm bed and a cup of Greenfield Summer Bouquet with cane sugar and a drop of Jagermeister or Angostura Aged 5 Years.

Only "here" is not "there," and depression, post-traumatic stress disorder, and other mental problems were replaced by one succinct word: "laziness". If you are not lying around with a fever, and your arms and legs are in place, you are healthy. And if you are healthy and not working, then you are lazy. And if you're lazy... Lena was already well aware of the methods used here to fight laziness and did not want to try them again. So she took off her apron, washed her hands again, rinsed her face with ice-cold water from the well, and went to open, at last, the drugstore. It was a long, very long day...

The apothecary really looked like a real apothecary from the nineteenth century. The black oak counter, the old double-winged cabinets, the drawers with vents for storing herbs. A reel of lever scales hung directly from the ceiling on a thin chain, and a bucket of measuring grains dangled from the chain and replaced the very small weights. On a separate table was a collection of jar-like pots of green and blue glass, handleless, with long curved spouts. In them were mixed elixirs for each particular occasion. Mouse grumbled but promptly removed the used jugs for rinsing. On the wall hung several worksheets, where Lena quickly scribbled down proportions and prices, multiplying in columns, another skill Matrice appreciated.

It's been a busy day. Spring is a time when winter supplies are exhausted, and summer greens have not yet filled the counters. Merchants sell off stale goods at high prices, and now and then, someone gets poisoned. Stomach pills, vomiting pills, and laxatives were selling well. Also very well sold as an ointment for bruises, made of vegetable oil, wine, and grinded worms,[2] a vile concoction with a corresponding odor that soaked into one's dress.

Pennies and coins fell with a muffled clang into the slotted drawer that replaced the cash register. It was not customary to give change. With few exceptions, the buyer knew exactly how much money was due, and if the coin was too big, there was always a money changer in the market. However, the cashier's task was not made easier by this because even if gold was not paid, there were five varieties of silver coins alone, not counting halves and quarters. Moreover, even within one class, the money differed in origin, wear, and year of minting, accordingly in weight and content of the ligature relative to the precious metal. It was also possible to miss a counterfeit.

The day seemed endless, and Matrice did not show up. Lena worked like a vending machine, measuring drugs and remembering that instead of the measure of manufacture, it was the measure of intake. That is, the patient, in most cases, would not take the drug according to the regime but guided by his well-being.

In the afternoon, Safir offered her a wooden bowl of porridge. The girl refused. Her stomach felt as if it had curdled into a knot after the operation, refusing to even think about food. The old servant shrugged his shoulders and, instead of the porridge, brought a large pot of tea, or rather an herbal brew, which really tasted like tea with currants and thyme. Saphir generously flavored the infusion with "watermelon" syrup, the local equivalent of sugar, which was extracted from the watermelon-like fruit that grew deep underground in the former winegrowers' tunnels. It was usually consumed on holidays - because of the price. Apparently, the old man thought the apprentice had earned it with her morning adventures.

Sugar supported the strength of the apothecary just enough to last until the end of the day, that is, until sundown. The thought that tomorrow, the day after tomorrow, and all the foreseeable future would be the same made her want to hang herself. Lena counted in her mind her savings, hidden under the floorboard in the corner of the room, and estimated how much the escape could cost - a change of clothes, shoes, and some supplies for the road. It made her even sadder. Hunger suddenly gnawed at her stomach, reminding her that the apprentice had eaten nothing since last night.

Behind the mica windows passed a troop of guards, that is, thugs, who were paid to keep order by the best people in the city. The torch-bearer, who was to light a couple of dozen lanterns in the two main streets, strode through. The old man wheeled the cart, again bemoaning the immoral city, which had forgotten its traditions and was steeped in disgusting decency without fights and dead men. The late buyer stood on the lop-sided porch of two steps, crumpled, hoping that he will open, but Lena vindictively pretended that no one is home. As the tardy man stalked off into the darkness, Elena sank effortlessly onto a stool, feeling a sharp pain in her legs, cursing herself for refusing the wraps and wishing only that Mr. Cat would come as soon as possible. Without him, thoughts of the noose were becoming too intrusive. But the meowr was missing somewhere. So was Matrice, who, for the first time in six months, had not come to the sunset to "take the cash register".

Lena tore off the stale bonnet, stomped on her foot, and in a sudden fit of morbid enthusiasm, thought that today she deserved at least one little bit of joy. The girl decided to send a stern warning to her ass to never, under any circumstances, go out the door after dark. But first, the cash box had to be put away in a special trunk, shackled with iron, nailed firmly to the floor, and seemingly even slightly enchanted.
* * *​
[1] But we remember that this is Mr. Sapkowski, The Witcher.

[2] This recipe was in use up to and including the 19th century.
 
Chapter 12. "Faces of death"
Chapter 12. "Faces of death"

* * *

"Is that him?" clarified Santelli, hiding an attentive look in his beer mug.

"Yes," confirmed Kai, also diligently looking away.

The subject of their conversation, who had forced the two "tarred men" to cross the Gate from end to end, from the most respectable pub to the most unrepresentative one, was sitting in the far corner, chewing leisurely on a piece of millet, stale even by the look of it. He was an older man, but he did not give the impression of being decrepit, to whom children casually asked what their father preferred, the grave or the fire. He was dressed decently, not poorly, but not provocatively, more in the East fashion, that is, in pants and an unbuttoned cross-shaped cape with a notch for the head over a loose wool shirt - no fancy dress, short jackets, butt stockings, or any other perversion of the South-West.

Pretending to drop and try to find a small trinket, Santelli peeked under the table and assessed the stranger's shoes - high boots with lapels, worn but still sturdy. They were the kind worn in the brigades, only shorter, often with a slit in the back, so you could unfasten the lace-up in one motion and throw it off, freeing your foot from the trap...

His gray hair was combed back smoothly, like a noble's, but it was cut shorter than usual and uneven as if the man had cut it himself by cutting off strands with a knife. A luxurious, ash-colored mustache curved around his mouth, descending to the very edge of his lower jaw. His eyebrows were pitch-black and even as if they had been drawn with a ruler. But the look... Yes, the look of a fighter sure of himself. There was a quiet confidence and a sense of superiority in the gray-haired man's gaze. But he had none of the coolness, the brash impudence of young bullies in search of glory, who had not yet learned that death was age-neutral, taking the old and the young with equal ease.

We must assume that the man was popular with the ladies. He just couldn't help it. Santelli thought he might have been attracted to the wanderer himself if he had been at least twenty years younger.

He put his half-handed saber without any ornaments, with a simple guard and a single side hook - unusually long, reaching to his ring finger - openly on the table. The blade was extended out of its sheath by four fingers, just enough to show - the wanderer was not looking for adventure and strife but wished to remain alone. But far more interesting was what was left in the shadows, that is, unnoticed, leaning against the leg of the slanting table. And there stood a one-handed "saddle hammer" on a wooden handle with two sides "whiskers" along its entire length.

It was the kind of hammer Santeli had long seen - a faceted beak, sharpened like a chisel, a simple hammer with no seals or teeth and, most unusual, no tip. Usually, all claws had a point or, at the very least, a handle that protruded from the eyelet into the palm. So you could poke and prod if the fight was chest-to-chest and you couldn't get a swing. But here, the whole upper part, from the edge of the beak to the striking part of the hammer, curved in one smooth arc.

As befits a well-conceived and well-made item, the hammer was, so to speak, thought-provoking. Especially the frequent notches, arranged very characteristically as if the weapon was used not so much to hit as to expose it to numerous blows.

"Look at the laces," Kai said in a low voice.

Santelli had indeed missed them, mistaking them for part of a foreign costume. Black twisted cords passed through special loops under the elbows and at the shoulders, and they were knotted cunningly and loosely, with the ends hanging down.

"It's the same on his legs," the swordsman said. "Above the knees."

Santelli nodded, taking note. After a moment of silence, he thought aloud with obvious doubt:

"It can't be. Two of them at once and on the same day?"

"Pantocrator measures generously to the worthy and pious," Kai quoted. "There isn't much to choose from, no matter how you look at it."

"Laces, saber, clave..." stretched out Santelli, still hesitant, but there was a poorly concealed hope in his voice.

"Yes," concluded Kai. "We have to risk it."

Santelli exhaled and finished his beer, literally pouring the contents of the mug down his throat.

"We have to," he said, winding himself up before the responsible case.

"I can try," suggested Kai diplomatically.

In the meantime, the visiting fighter had finished his crust and was looking like a man in no hurry to go anywhere, smoothing his mustache. He attracted the attention of the drinkers but nothing more. They'd seen far more outlandish guests in the Wastelands, and his saber and determined demeanor deterred troublemakers as well as the most honest folk who now had the truest treasure map, the most cherished artifact cache tip, or at least a bar of real gold for a mere third of the price.

Santelli twitched his cheek and, without answering his companion, stood up, heading toward the stranger's table. He skipped a step on the way, passing one girl maid so he wouldn't run into a tray full of empty mugs. With an easy half-turn, he sidestepped a drunkard falling out of his chair, who banged his head loudly against the wet planks behind the foreman's back. He stepped over the regular, who was lying down comfortably in the aisle between the tables, wrapped in a leaky cloak, for he had no other clothes on - all gone down. It looked like today was going to be a busy day for the tavern; beer and diluted wine poured out literally in buckets, despite the early hour. Although the sun had long ago risen, it was half dark inside, and the oil lamps were burning.

"May I?" asked Santelli politely, stopping beside the table so the distance could not be called threatening. The brigadier was almost sure that he could not attack suddenly, even if he wanted to, and the stranger was well aware of that, but a show of politeness is never superfluous.

"I'm not looking for company," the man said neutrally, and the soft accent confirmed his background. Wherever the fighter was born, he'd spent most of his life in the City or at least the surrounding area. The answer sounded as polite as the question but quite unambiguous. To continue was to invite a rude rebuke or challenge, but nevertheless, Santelli took his chances.

"I see," the foreman said and sat down across from him without invitation. A dark eyebrow shifted and crept upward, reflecting a certain bewilderment. The gray-haired man didn't even glance toward his sword, but the muscles under his shirt trembled slightly, and Santelie could feel the stranger's loosely lowered left hand, hidden by the edge of the table, touching the handle of the hammer.

"I apologize for my intrusiveness," the brigadier had a hard time with the "pompous" speech because he hadn't used to ceremonial, and it was all too reminiscent of the past. So Santelli spoke slowly, choosing each word.

"But I have a matter that cannot wait. An important matter that I would like to discuss with you."

"I only came here today, after dark, and I've never been in these parts before," the stranger seems already to have grasped the clave with his whole palm. "I have no friends or business here, much less any delay."

He spoke quickly and very clearly, like a man accustomed to a purely urban culture. And with that familiar, unconscious restraint that comes from years of living in an environment where any word can be followed by a challenge. If Santelli still doubted the nature of his interlocutor's occupation, he would now cast aside all doubts.

"I understand what you're saying," the foreman pointedly placed his palms on the tabletop, showing that he wasn't preparing a sneak attack. All the pride and self-esteem of the Proffitt hunter protested against this, but Santelli was clearly aware that his insistence was an outright accusation, and the reaction of his companion might be entirely unpredictable. The less of a threat the gray-haired man saw, the better.

"Give me literally a few minutes of your time," the foreman offered as calmly and persuasively as possible. "And if you don't find my words worthy of consideration, I'll leave you."

At the last moment, Santelli refrained from completing "and order you some wine." This could have been taken as an outright insult, a hint of the stranger's plight. All the more insulting because the hint would not seem far from the truth. Now, sitting close to him, face to face, Santelli could see that the gray-haired man's eyelids were puffed up by days of fatigue. The travel bag on the bench, at his right side, was unfortunately thin and certainly not burdened with rich luggage. And most important of all, the smell. The stranger's clothes were dusty and hadn't been cleaned in days, which meant he hadn't washed yet from the road. But Santeli did not smell the distinctive scent of horse sweat. So, the man came on foot. And if a fighter does not have a horse, it means either he is a bad fighter or, for some reason, he is in great need.

"You don't seem to have a watch..." After a short pause, the gray-haired man responded, a little friendlier, just a little. "And I doubt there are any in this whole... town."

"But I know what a 'minute' is," Santelli smiled miserably.

"Yeah, apparently, we've both known better days," the gray-haired man returned the same restrained smile. He seemed interested in the conversation.

"Yeah," the foreman remarked neutrally. He was silent for a while and decided not to pull the taguar by the tongue but to cut it off.

"A thousand pardons if my question seems inappropriate, but... let me guess the nature of your occupation..."

"You've already guessed right," the gray-haired man cut him off sharply. "So is your companion, who stands against that wall and pretends not to look at me from behind his mug. He is clearly accustomed to the weight of a knight's spear and ramming."

"Uh-uh..." For the first time in a very long time, Santelli was confused and hesitant to answer.

"But I'm not looking for work here," the fighter continued sternly. "I have no desire to kill alive people again."

Santelli raised his eyes and thought that Pantocrator himself must be helping him, first by pointing to the stranger through Kai and now by taking the conversation in the most desirable direction. The occasional reservation made it possible to get straight to the point.

"I see," the foreman shook his head and paused. For the first time, he caught something in the gray-haired man's impenetrable gaze that looked like a spark of interest. "And what would you say about dead people?"

There was silence. The brether - and this was definitely a brether, a real, metropolitan school, an ambidextrous fencer - stared intently at the brigadier. At last, his left hand trembled, and Santelli clenched his jaws mechanically, ready to parry the blow. Well, or at least to try. The gray-haired man drew an empty, unarmed palm from under the table, rested his elbows on the dark planks, and smoothed his mustache again, this time both at once.

"Charley. Maitre Charley," he introduced himself grudgingly without offering his hand. Just indicating that he was ready to listen for now.

"Santelli. My throat was a little dry. I must admit," the brigadier wasn't in the least bit wry, the usual Wasteland negotiations requiring simple politeness but without all the verbal acrobatics. "While I'm talking, would you be so kind as to share a pitcher of beer with me? And perhaps something to chew on, just so the beer doesn't go down your throat alone?"

Brether bowed his head in silence, his curiosity evidently fighting his general reluctance to get involved in anything he did not understand. Still, he listened to the foreman.

"And here's the thing..." began Santelli, lowering his voice and leaning toward the maitre.

Kai relaxed a little and furtively exhaled. Being a good warrior, he could see that the gray-haired man was an excellent fighter. And very skilled, too, judging by the proper knots on his sleeves, which few people knew how to tie properly these days. If it came to a fight, even the two of them, Santelli and Kai, would have a hard time standing up to the brether. Not because they were inferior. It was just that here, without armor, in the cramped confines of the tavern scene, the maestro was in his element, accustomed to the swift carnage of the city streets, by torchlight or in the dense shadows of the alleys.

Kai prayed briefly to himself, recalling the creed from the Primordial scroll. Everything seemed to be going more or less well.

* * *

Her clogs were pounding on the sidewalk, or rather, on the surface, which partly included elements of the sidewalk. There was not much stone left. It had been badly scattered for buildings and other household things until vandalism was banned by the best people of the city. However, the multi-layered "cushion" of crushed stone and sand remained; it drained the moisture well so that even in the rains, it was much more pleasant to walk on the streets of the Gate than just on the ground.

Lena stomped toward the bakery with the firm intention of buying a pie. A big one, fresh, with meat. The bakers usually made a small supply of fresh pastries in the evening for the brigades who had had the misfortune to return from the field after midnight. The girl was counting on some bonus from Matrice for her successful stitch-cleaning operation, so she decided to go wild and eat her bonus in advance. There were many objections to this decision, from the late hour to the simple common sense of not spending pennies not yet received. For - hunger, the desire to eat properly, not indulging in forced veganism, and most importantly - to "chew" the dreary sadness. For the lack of coffee and chocolate bars.

It was quiet, very quiet. Most of the Gate's inhabitants were either already asleep or preparing to go to sleep. And those who were awake were hiding their nightlife behind solid walls and thick curtains. Like Matrice, who was probably again taking Profit from another brigade in one of the distant warehouses. Only to the side, where the Honourable Gee's brothel was located, there was a noisy party again, with shrieks and firecrackers. Someone must have made a good living and was in a hurry to spend everything.

The psychology of the "tarred men" in general was similar to that of a soldier. Each of them could die at any moment, regardless of any precautions, so few were saving for old age or a rainy day. The Pantocrator gave, and the Pantocrator will give again if it is His will. And to bury the money in a chest is to tease death by alluding to its weakness. So it was the individual hoarders like Santelli who seemed to see his work in the dungeons as a way to build up start-up capital for something bigger. For the past year, however, the foreman had worked mostly to pay off his debt to the brothel for killing his two most profitable workers.

A torch-bearer passed by, having finished his evening's work. They burned all night and gave off a lot of light, almost like gas lanterns, so that one could walk through the central streets of the Gate without having to gauge the road with a stick. Seeing Lena, the torchbearer politely touched the collar of the hood and bowed his head. Lena responded in the same way, only touched the cap... Or rather wanted to touch it.

Damn it! She forgot to put it on again as she left the Apothecary. Oh, damn...

That's not to say it was a catastrophic mistake. By day, yes, the public wouldn't understand. Only fully open hair could be worn by completely independent women like Shena or aristocrats. The former had their hair cut very short, not even "manly," but rather "boyish". The latter had elaborate hairstyles. Everyone else needed at least a symbolic cap, headscarf, or at the very least, a comb. So, technically, anyone could take Lena for a girl of low social responsibility, with all the consequences.

She could go back, or she could risk it. Especially since the risk was low, all the ladies' society seekers were already scattered in the hotspots. Blaming herself for her absent-mindedness, the girl quickened her steps, hoping to be back in a quarter of an hour. Or a little longer if the baker's apprentice on duty had to be awakened.

A city dweller does not understand how noisy the modern city is and how many individual sounds actually hide the overall noise background. In the alleyway, a drunkard is relieving himself noisily, muttering something to himself. Across the street, a child is crying, apparently dreaming. Someone very small was rustling among the refuse, probably a rat, or on the contrary, a tiny fennec fox, which has firmly occupied the niche of the hunter-mouse cat.

It was getting cold. It was getting colder. A nasty breeze slipped through her hair and touched her ears with icy touches. Lena automatically pulled up the collar of her dress, shielding her neck from the evening cold, promising colds and bronchitis.

"Good, kind woman, give a little bread to an orphan..."

At first, she thought it was just the wind rumbling in the alley between the cramped houses. The low-pitched roofs touched, forming a tunnel with blind mica windows without a single light. And from there, out of the darkest shadows, came this voice.

Lena lost her step and stopped listening. The wind rustled the street trash again, rustled the thatched roofs, and bypassed the tiled ones. There was some movement in the alley. A thin, quiet voice repeated:

"Good, good woman, give a coin to an orphan."

The hair on her head began to move. Lena had never felt such creepiness, not even when the local predator, the ugly cat named Taguar, intended to devour her. And it seemed there was nothing to be afraid of, just a little beggar-child's voice... Only Lena firmly remembered one of the unwritten laws of the wasteland - the children never stay on the street after dawn. Even poor orphans who could not find a place in the workhouse in the sewing trade gathered in groups and closed in other people's sheds for a penny.

A lonely beggar on the street in the night is like Santelli without an axe, with a conductor's stick. Either it's not a lonely beggar, or it's not a child. Or both.

"Don't spare a coin."

A girl emerged from the shadows, strangely and frighteningly similar to the one Elena had found on her first day in the Wastelands. Only this one seemed alive enough if it weren't for the paused, bottomless look in her eyes.

"It's not a loss for you but a joy for the orphan. And the orphan child will thank you."

I remembered, very coincidentally (or vice versa), that foul creatures never call themselves in the first person but always in the third, as if from the side. Lena was soberly aware that she was not escaping in her clattering boots. There was no point in calling for help; no one would come anyway. What happens behind the walls of the houses is nobody's business until the sun rises.

She took a step back and put her hand on the hilt of the knife behind her belt. Everyone here had a knife. Those who couldn't afford a regular one used a substitute, like a scrap of an old scythe with a twine wound around it instead of the handle. At worst, it was always possible to sharpen an ordinary bone on a shale or make a stone knife, the kind the boys who were not yet entitled to their father's first gift walked around with. Lena had a good knife, for the herbalist was always measuring and cutting something off. But now, the strip of forged steel in her hand seemed very small and treacherously useless.

Meanwhile, the girl came out of the alley. She was right under the torch, and Lena shuddered. The fathomlessness of her gaze was given by her enormous, inhumanly dilated pupils, which remained motionless even in the light.

"Stay back," Lena whispered, bringing her knife forward.

The girl smiled silently and without parting her lips, took another step toward her. Elena took a step back and ran into someone behind her, thinking, belatedly, that a demon didn't need to hunt alone. She swung the knife at random, and, of course, she missed the gray shadow escaping the short blade in a deft, almost balletic pirouette.

Not as the undead of the Wastelands. As a human being.

The girl with inhuman eyes slid back into the darkness of the alley, her back to the front as if she were hovering above the ground. Behind her, two of the routiers rushed, steel plates clinking on their jackets, cleavers at their heels. Another swung his torch, dispersing the shadows. The fourth stared at Elena in silence, and Elena stared at him, thinking she was going to fall. She would, for sure because her legs were shaking like half-liquid cold meat in a bowl.

"Don't walk the streets after sundown," Ranyan said calmly, as if he, too, had just been stabbed, even if by mistake.

This was the first time Lena had seen the famous mercenary so close. Ranyan looked... usual, as always, that is, cold, impenetrable. Like a man who was minute by minute ready for a fight. Though he was a brether with a fencing brotherhood diploma, he carried no saber, making do with two long knives on his belt. A piercing sword hung behind his back, and few in the Wastelands could say they'd ever seen a Routier draw his blade from its sheath. His dapper beard and no less dapper mustache were still Lena's associations with the seventeenth century rather than the Medieval. Routier smelled of armor leather, rust-proof grease, and something else unidentifiable, like freshly mowed grass. If it had been anyone else, Lena would have assumed that Ranyan had perfumed himself with herbal essence. But that would have been... too wrong. Murderers don't use toilet water.

"Hel? Apprentice to the venerable Matrice?" Ranyan asked.

Lena only managed a weak nod. She fumbled at her belt, almost stabbing her knife through her stomach, looking for a scrap of cloth to cover her hair. She didn't want to admit to herself that in the light of the torches - two at once - the routier couldn't help but notice the dark red of her braid.

"You're lucky," Ranyan remarked with the same impenetrable calm. "An encounter with a 'deceiver' rarely ends so... easily."

He didn't understand anything... He didn't understand! And somewhere in the distance, was a short cry, a child's cry, but with sharp shrill notes, as if the child had been imitated by a good ventriloquist who never got out of character. Someone had just died.

"T-t-thank you," Elena squeezed out. She squeezed it out, every word coming out with great difficulty, pushing its way through her petrified throat. Too many adventures in one day. Too much...

"The city pays," Ranyan said as if that explained everything. "Deceivers haven't come through the Gate in a long time, and now they're getting more frequent. It's dangerous on the streets. Let's go."

"W-what?"

"Let's go," said routier again. "I'll show you out. I don't like unfinished business."

The legs of one such "unfinished business" finally buckled. The mercenary managed to put up a hand in a thick glove, and the girl mechanically leaned on it. The hand seemed wooden, hard, and incredibly strong. Ranyan felt a chill pounding the unexpected encounter but interpreted it in his way.

"No need to be afraid," he remarked with a note of patronizing condescension. "I'll take you to the Apothecary."

And off they went. The sidekick with the torch followed close behind, keeping a watchful eye on the rear.

Lena felt hot and cold. Her head was full of confused thoughts. She wanted to run away into the nearest alley, or try to stab routier with a knife, or just scream. It was wild, incongruous, and impossible just to walk hand in hand with a man who was supposed to kill her. He, without blinking an eye, had ordered the slaughter of an entire caravan of travelers in search of a victim.

Ranyan was silent, adjusting to her hurried little steps. The leather of his harness creaked quietly. The sheath of his sword must have been brand new. The mercenary's footsteps, on the other hand, seemed silent, like those of a ghost.

"See you later," Ranyan admonished her before she reached the Apothecary's porch, above which hung a candle lantern with mica windows. The mercenary gave the girl an impenetrable look and shrugged under his jacket of thick boiled leather, capable of stopping a knife or an arrow from an ordinary bow. And went back without looking back.

Lena locked the door and stood in the dark for a while, feeling her heart pounding and the adrenaline coursing through her veins. In the back rooms, Saphir was rattling something again. Mouse was scolding him in a low voice, reprimanding him monotonously and nastily for something. Without burning the lights, the girl went up to the second floor, to the living part of the two-story house.

The hunger burned out, turning into the exact opposite. Just as in the morning, now the girl couldn't swallow a bite. Fatigue filled every limb with leaden weight, spreading to the tips of her fingernails. A sickly chill chilled her bones, making it hard to breathe, and her heart stabbed with unexpected pain.

Lena was clearly aware that she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown. A real one, with screaming and complete loss of control. Before, when life became absolutely unbearable, such outbursts were treated by Mr. Cat. Now...

She sat down on the bed, massaging her diaphragm. Her stomach was cramped, and her fingers trembled and felt like absorbent cotton. Lena breathed, deep and slow, with prolonged exhalation, imagining she was fanning the embers of an extinguished fire in the frosty forest. An exhalation. Exhale. Exhale... She would have to breathe into a bag, so her body would get less oxygen. For lack of a bag, she folded her palms in a tight boat, covering her nose and mouth like a respirator.

In her former life, Elena had never done auto-training, but she had read a couple of Levi's books from Grandpa's library. And now she was trying to draw on a fragmented memory, muttering the formula for calm, imagining a warm heaviness in her hands and feet. My fingertips were freezing as if they were frozen in ice. She should have laid down on her back to relax, but Lena knelt, bent into an S shape.

Slowly, little by little, it began to work. She imagined that the seizure was a cold flame in her heart. With each breath, she dissolved and exhaled the disembodied ice in a warm stream. It was getting easier. She was still very sick, but the hysterical explosion had receded a few steps.

Trying to maintain the same rhythm of breathing, Lena repeated to herself that she is wonderful, strong, and confident. She stayed alive. She became an apprentice and learned to live like a local without standing out for anything. She is smart. She is wonderful, and she cannot be killed.

She rubbed her face, feeling the muscles tense. She felt as if she were stirring heavy, parched clay, but she didn't give up, pushing, pulling, and stretching until the cramped muscles relaxed.

It was letting go. Slowly, hard, but it was letting go. She wanted to cry, to let the hot tears open the dam of grief and fear, to wash away all the weight from her soul. Like in her childhood, when crying became bitter, but then it was easier. But in her current state, the tears could easily turn into a hysterical outburst, the same one from which Elena had had such a hard time recovering.

So, breathe. Again, cover her face with her palms and breathe. Breathe...

No one can hurt her because she is too smart and lucky for all her enemies. She stood face to face with Ranyan - and she survived. Can anything hurt her now?

Elena shook her fingertips as if to shake off cobwebs and nonexistent water droplets. The gesture was graceful. At least, she liked to think it was. Her hands weren't shaking anymore, and her heart was steady, too.

Exhale. Another exhalation. It seemed to be over. An involuntary long sob broke through, but otherwise, it seemed fine.

She have to go downstairs. Drink a mug of sweet broth to add more sugar to her system. She wouldn't fall asleep now anyway. Sweet herbal concoction and maybe some fortified wine from the bottle Matrice hides under the lock. The boss would scream and rage and probably fine her, but the hell with it. Elena stared death in the face twice in one evening and survived. What was the screaming compared to that?

She won't be afraid anymore.

* * *
 
Chapter 13. "Vietnamese Footlocker"
Chapter 13. "Vietnamese Footlocker"

* * *

Dreams again... Again these horrible dreams...

The words rolled around in her head, spoken in a terrible, cawing voice. It seemed if she strained her memory, she'd remember where the words came from. But because it was actually happening in a dream, the old words rumbled like a bell, shattering her consciousness, not letting her catch it in the trap of understanding.

Horrible dreams...

Lena dreamt of a battle. No, not a battle... More like a bloody fight, a frenzied massacre in the darkness, illuminated only by the torn light of the torches. A series of images flashing in a stroboscopic kaleidoscope. Blood on wet wood. The crack of shields. The muffled sound of chopping leather armor with a subtle hint of metallic clang from the plates sewn between the leather and the quilted fabric. The girl had never heard the "sound" of cuirass being pierced through with a single blow of the claw. But at the same time, she knew exactly what it was, the short, tinny thud that made her blood run cold.

They fought in the dungeon, dark and damp, amid the drops of water that fell from the high stone vault-not even seen in the light. Not people and monsters, but people and people, desperately, the way they fight in the last hour when there is no escape, and all that is left is to kill or be killed.

The red flames of the torches leaped over the two blades, painting the gray steel with bloody reflections.

A "rat" cleaver, not a simple one, but with a twisted shank, which bears more resemblance not to a rat's tail, but to a long, curved corkscrew. The blade is not simple either, it is longer and lighter than usual, and the blade is leaf-shaped, tapering towards the tip. This is more of a short sword for a not-very-strong but fast fighter.

Against a cleaver an ordinary sword... No, an ordinary sword, except in length. It is really long, almost like a knight's sword, but for one hand, not even a hand and a half. The blade is straight, but the cross is saber-like, curved with two whiskers - ascending and descending, and the palm is additionally protected by a side cup in the form of a poplar leaf. You have to be a strong fighter to be able to easily twist such a thing with one hand...

The swords clash, scattering stars. They flash in bright dots and immediately go out like sparks in a strong wind. It is as if these flashes illuminate the weapons, and Lena sees that the second fighter's blade - the longer one - is actually very light. The sword has three full-length fuller, and they are not just chiseled out to lighten and strengthen the blade but pierce through the blade, interrupted by thin lintels. An artful, unique work. It is doubly unique because the blade is not a ceremonial one but a martial one.

The fight went on. The dream was drawing in deeper and deeper. On the one hand, the action gained depth and became more detailed, like a single crystal of ice that begins to grow in cold water, multiplying and covering the surface with a matte film. On the other hand, Lena's mind seemed to dissolve in the animated picture, losing the ability to comprehend what she saw.

The cleaver and the sword clash again and again. One of the fighters is definitely stronger. His blade seems openwork, shining through. The other is inferior in skill, but so far he manages to balance the odds with frenzied fury, just a crazy onslaught. The cleaver strikes nonstop, like a water hammer, with such force and frequency that the sword barely has time to put up a defense, let alone counterattack. And yet it has time. The incessant chopping runs seemingly from three sides at once - the cleaver aims at the right, the left, and the top. But a long strip of openwork metal invariably meets the enemy's blade. The fiery reflections on the steel seem to live a life of their own, dancing around the blades with red demons that are eternally hungry for blood.

And here comes the climax. The attacker has exhausted himself, wasted all his strength in a furious onslaught, and is now doomed. A blow, another blow, a long blade catches the lunge with confident ease, takes it to the side, tearing the defense to shreds. Now the victim is doomed, and the grande arte of the fencer once again surpassed the skills of ordinary fighting with its two simple techniques - a direct strike and a direct deflection.

This is a very important fight. Elena doesn't know why, but her whole being is chained to the image of a brutal duel in the middle of a common battle. The fighting skills of the girl from the other world are of little use here, but even her knowledge is enough to know that the fighter with the cleaver has lost. It is important, very important. For some reason, it is important. The images of the duelists are important, but they cannot be seen - dark shadows without clear outlines, gaps of darkness instead of faces. It seems that it's not people fighting but ghosts, embodiments of the elements or entities.

The carved sword aims for a jab, and Lena knows, feels, that it will be a surgically precise blow to the abdomen. The embodiment of the mathematics of killing, combining anatomy and geometry. Just above the groin, under the conventional projection of the kidneys onto the abdominal wall, so the obliquely cut tip cuts through the aorta below the fork of the renal arteries. This is a very neat, "masterly", externally bloodless wound. And absolutely fatal - it is impossible to stop the internal bleeding.

But the sword must be stopped, and the owner of the cleaver must not die. It is impossible. It is forbidden. Why...? The answer seems obvious. It is at a distance of outstretched fingers, at the thickness of a hair, it is already known. It is only necessary to focus and realize what is already known... But Lena can't. Her thoughts are like a fog. They are everywhere and nowhere, around the fight and infinitely far away from it at the same time. It is a dream. And a dream remains a dream only until the awareness of it comes.

The jab has begun. Anything can happen in a dream, and Elena sees time slowing down. Droplets of moisture hung in the damp air, glimmers of red fire sliding across them, dissolving into shades of yellow and orange. The hand turns the blade flat, and the point moves forward, cutting through the round drops like splashes of fiery mercury.

And then the unbelievable happened - the fighter slipped. His boot - a small, dainty little boot - hit a wet spot. Where a normal man would have fallen, the warrior had a moment to regain his balance, but the swift lunge went wrong. And the man with the cleaver literally leaked, screwed like a snake into the brief moment between the two blows - the past that had failed and the future that was yet to be born. The moment was shorter than a heartbeat, faster than the click of a bowstring that came off his fingers. But the fighter had time, and his cleaver sank just above his opponent's collarbone, at the base of his neck, uncovered by armor.

Anything is possible in dreams, and even from the cut veins, the blood gushes out, carmine red, contrasting, and chemically pure, like the best paint in the world. Very slowly because the flow of time seems to fear returning to its normal course. Red to red. Death to death.

The sword combines swiftly as if its wielder had been initially wound up by cunning springs to a certain sequence of actions, even if the person is essentially already dead. However, no lunge reaches its target.

The dying man falls, even in death, clutching the hilt of his faithful blade. It is as if he is ahead of his own shadow, falling out of the mist that shrouded the figures of the duelists in a ghostly shroud. The fire of the torches is reflected in his wide-open eyes. The eye... A pale purple whiteness and a cardinal-colored iris, bordered by a dark, almost black border. From the iris to the empty center, devoid of pupil, black threads stretched, which are in constant motion. A completely non-human eye that nevertheless belongs to a person.

The winner turned around in a defensive stance, and now Lena sees. His face, so familiar, so ...

Downstairs in the kitchen, Mouse dropped the cast-iron cauldron right on top of the pot with such a rumble that it took the girl out of the dream, like a slaughterer beating the life out of a cattle with a lead hammer. Again Lena experienced the sensation of a ghostly, absent memory. She had seen and recognized the man in the dream, a recognition that seemed to hide somewhere at the very edge of her consciousness and... ...slipping away whenever she tried to concentrate. Most unpleasant of all was the persistent feeling of the dream's importance, of its involvement in events that might have already happened or might only happen in the future.

Damn, it...

Lena threw back the bedspread of the shabby, darned hide, which had once boasted lush, warm fur but, over the years, had frayed to the point of suede and sad, dignified baldness. Mr. Cat gave a disgruntled purr and stretched out, showing powerful claws as if to warn him to respect his right to sleep in peace.

"Well, I'm sorry," Elena said guiltily, fumbling with her barefoot for the felt socks that had been used as room slippers. Meowr looked at her carefully and covered his eyes with oval pupils as if accepting her apology. He curled up. His paws picked up into a familiar ball on the edge of the blanket, where more fur was preserved. It was creepy yet incredibly graceful, a harmonious creature that looked like a cat, a rabbit, and a snake at the same time.

The cataclysm took its toll on the animal kingdom. Dogs became extinct, leaving only the romantic nostalgia of aristocrats and old treatises on hunting and interbreeding. Cats, on the other hand, transmuted into Meowrs. Or not mutated. In general, the stories converged on one thing - cats disappeared, and Meowrs appeared.

Strictly speaking, Meowrs were not cats but rather resembled lynxes crossed with reptiles, which had undergone a very long chain of transformations. Moreover, Lena suspected that the Meowrs were no animals either, for these creatures seemed much more intelligent than monkeys and dogs. Meowrs were completely untrained and chose their companions. Not masters but companions. The strange animals hunted no mice and were useless in the practical economy, but they had an almost mystical ability to "drink the grief." It was believed that Meowrs relieves mental suffering, banishes sorrow and grief, and moderates bodily pain. And it brought good luck.

Meowr, who lived in Matrice's house, immediately chose Elena and slept with her almost every night. Lena did not particularly believe in its mystical nature but rather in the psychotherapeutic properties of a pet. Not without reason cats prolong life and multiply the health of the old and sick. But one way or another, stroking the purring dwarf lynx was a pleasure, and during the first, most difficult months of her new life, only Mr. Cat kept Helena from thoughts of twisting the noose and throwing her over the rafters.

There was a strong belief among the common people that the Meowrs were so intelligent and unusual because they possessed human souls. Those who died in the Cataclysm could not go to heaven or hell, being trapped in the earthly, material world. And their souls find refuge in the bodies of the Meowrs until that day when the Paraclete ceases the existence of the Ecumene. The Church did not support these beliefs, but it did not fight them either (probably, the Church hierarchs are also sad and hard on their souls). And killing meowr everywhere, from the Island to the City, was considered a terrible sin because the soul, expelled from the animal's dead body, was permanently deprived of a place of refuge without the possibility of finding a postmortem.

Rinsing her face with cold water, Lena massaged the skin around her eyes, which even to the touch, seemed unhealthy and swollen. Saphir downstairs shuffled a broom made of twigs as thin and sparse as the hair on his bald head. The sun was already beating down through the mica window in full sunshine, but the apprentice had had an unscheduled day off today; certainly, the black streak of life had not been replaced by white, but rather a light gray one.

The night before, in the late evening, Lena had opened the trunk. She had only had to bang the old lock a couple of times. She took out the wine and drank heavily, perhaps for the first time in her whole stay here. With each sip all the horrors of the past day were pushed aside, life became a little more fun, and Lena herself felt like a real local woman, ready to swear and beat muzzles on a par with the men. Saphir, looking at all this, only shook his head, maintaining an impenetrable expression.

And when Mouse tried to swear in her usual squeaky voice, Lena remembered Ranyan's expressionless, deadpan look and simply threw a mug of dried pumpkin at the maid, which did not break, and were worth an eighth of a penny each. Surprisingly, Mouse took it quite calmly, as if it were a matter of course, and stopped squealing at once, taking care of the household. Lena poured two more fingers of wine, then added as much, thinking that she probably still did not understand the specifics of local relations. She was thinking badly, and her drunken thoughts were turning more and more slowly and heavily, like ill-fitting millstones.

Matrice returned very late, towards midnight, in an unusual state. It was not fear, not excitement, but rather the anticipation of something significant, something uncertain that was about to happen. Her dress reeked of urine and tar as if the apothecary had retrained as a tanner. Matrice didn't even check the cash drawer. She listened absent-mindedly (and this in itself seemed surprising) to Lena's confused account of the day (about Ranyan and the " deceiver " girl wisely silent), just as absent-mindedly glanced at the half-empty bottle and announced that tomorrow the apprentice is free until the evening. With the retention of her wages.

The tipsy girl had some trouble climbing the steep stairs to the second floor, to her room, and found, first, that Saphir had made her coal warmer and, second, that Mr. Cat had come. Lena thought that perhaps Pantocrator was real after all, so she flopped into bed.

She slept, judging by the noise outside the windows, well past noon. She was thirsty, and her eyes hurt a little, but overall she felt better than she'd expected. That was what it meant to get a good night's sleep without getting out of bed so early. She was very hungry.

Putting on her top shirt, Lena stroked Mr. Cat. The meowr yawned, clenched its teeth, and graciously rubbed its ear against the man's hand. The creatures' fur was similar to that of a capybara - quite sparse and stiff. But at the same time, it was surprisingly cozy and warm, so she wanted to stroke again and again. Meowr laid his triangular head right on the bedspread and squeezed his eyes shut, twitching his ears blissfully.

After stroking the good cat, Lena dressed, changed her slippers for wooden shoes, and, as some classical writer would say, "girded her loins," preparing to meet... ...yet she doesn't know what. On the one hand, yesterday's Matrice seemed immersed in her problems and rather benevolent. On the other... anything could happen.

So, leaving the door ajar for Mr. Cat's comfort, Lena clattered her boots as she descended the stairs. They were waiting for her at the bottom.

"Just in time," Matrice said as she poured herself a glass of wine made of real glass. She poured it from the same bottle the girl had emptied more than two-thirds of the way the day before. It looked like a silent reproof, though it certainly was not.

Santelli waved his spoon with which he was eating the hodgepodge. Judging by the sight and smell, the food came straight from Mother Chahar's place. The venerable lady was of Highlander descent, renowned for the best mercenary infantrymen and the best camping cuisine on the continent. Her signature dish of cabbage, turnips, carrots, and onions stewed with corned beef and spices looked awful from Lena's perspective, mostly because of the displaced color scheme-blue cabbage, bright red pumpkin, beet turnips, yellow carrots. It was like a mix of different crap representing the insides of a horror movie. But it tasted divine.

Kai didn't eat anything, just tapped the table with his one-toothed fork. He had been away for a long time last month, and it seemed that he had found a good healer magician on the way who fixed the fighter's nose. Kai could breathe normally now, but he still had the habit of grinning. Just like now. The swordsman was very unhappy about something, though he tried to keep his dissatisfaction to himself.

Saphir was not to be seen. From the sounds of it, he was grinding slate tiles in the backyard, turning them into fine crumbs for the hearth. And, by the same sounds, he intended to do so for as long as possible. Mouse was hiding somewhere, too. All in all, everything indicated that the meeting was going on for a reason.

"Join us," Matrice sipped her wine. Santelli waved his spoon again, this time in a mute invitation. Kai frowned and remained silent.

Lena came down the stairs, treading carefully with her wooden clogs. Something was wrong here... very wrong. Usually, she didn't get this kind of attention, but here it felt like the whole gathering had been organized especially for her.

"Eat," said Santelli, chewing on a particularly large and hot piece of turnip. "Good food, just from the tavern."

Kai silently moved an empty, clean wooden bowl to an empty stool and took the lid off a clay pot covered in a glassy glaze, the kind you didn't cook in but served food in a thermos. The pot was steaming hot and powerful. And very tasty.

They ate in silence. Or rather, it was Santeli and Elena who wielded the spoons. Matrice was still sipping wine, and Kai was tapping out a march with his fork. Saphir was tapping with his beater in time for the march. As she chewed the spicy, well-peppered hodgepodge, Lena thought about three things. First, as Winnie, the Pooh would say, there was a reason for all this. Second, how good it felt to eat something tasty and meaty after a twenty-four-hour and completely unhealthy fast. And third, she was thinking of Matrice, or, broadly and highly pompous, the local role of women in society.

As far as Elena understood, the Cataclysm had struck the local Ecumene far worse than the Plague of the Middle Ages. The Black Death, for all its horror, was only a disease. The disaster that wiped out the Old Empire was far more widespread and, one might say, complex. It had something to do with magic, and among other things, it annihilated almost all the magical energy of the world on which the state and society were built. As a result, everything from ordinary communications to agriculture collapsed overnight. And epidemics were already attached as the cherry on the cake or rather the nail in the coffin.

The practical and observable consequences were many. For example, the situation of women, who at least formally enjoyed equal rights with men. There seems to have been (if one believes Matrice's brief remarks) a period when men were almost nonexistent, nine-tenths of them wiped out by disease and the war of all against all that had broken out in the ruins of the lost old world. So women began to be equally involved in the economic turnover, and so that the lines of succession were not interrupted, all rights and privileges had to be extended to wives and daughters, including judicial duels. Over the years and decades, the forced necessity became a tradition. Nowadays, a woman could simply declare complete independence, engage in some commerce or even war, and this was perceived quite normally without curiosities or sneers.

Another thing is that such a status had a backside - one had to take responsibility for it. If one defined oneself as a member of a certain circle and occupation, one was supposed to be treated accordingly, regardless of age and gender. This was why Elena was secretly jealous of Shena and Matrice but never thought of following in their footsteps. Involvement in serious affairs and the respect of brigade villains went hand in hand with a minute-by-minute willingness to accept a challenge from anyone without the slightest discount. Complete equality without privilege proved by no means romantic, and life as a free independent woman was, in the first place, extremely dangerous.

And this raised a very serious question for Lena about her own future, for it seemed that she was not yet in danger of returning to her native Kansas.

A spoon scraped along the bottom of the bowl. Lena carefully picked up the rest of the gravy with a piece of tortilla and thought about adding more, but she didn't. Her stomach was enveloped in a pleasant warmth and a feeling of fullness, and to add more was to please her tongue, but her inner voice and reason number one (about the Winnie the Pooh case) suggested that now was not the time to fall into the greediness of gluttony. Lena resolutely pushed the bowl aside, Matrice put the glass down, and Kai stuck his fork on the table as if to end the unplanned feast.

"Well, you've got your belly full, and okay," summed up Santelli, puffing up and unbuckling his belt for a couple of holes.

In fact, the brigadier could express himself very intelligently and courteously, but he usually played the role of a simple-minded man with one thought in his head. He rarely went out of character, and it was usually accompanied by bloodshed.

Matrice sighed, or rather exhaled long as if the glass contained "dead water," that is, the local moonshine. And with a visible effort, she pulled out a small wooden box from under the table.

"Oh," was all the girl said, who wasn't expecting to see all this until a week later.

"Open up," the foreman squinted slightly, either recommending or ordering.

Lena had already imagined what she might see inside. It was not without reason that for months she had been drawing and sketching her idea on a wax tablet, then charcoal on planks and, finally, precious sanguine[1] pencil on real rag paper, this for a master cabinetmaker. And then for the blacksmith. But to imagine and draw is one thing, but to see with one's own eyes is quite another.

It started simply enough. Lena thought it would be a good idea to replicate the emergency medical kit, like in the ambulance, only with adjustments for the new environment. So that all the necessary equipment of a field medic wasn't scattered in bags but properly organized and stacked. A little later, another idea was added to this one as a result of her acquaintance with local medical instruments. The first time she picked up an amputation knife, which looked more like a butcher's cleaver, with a bone handle covered with a rough carving, the girl immediately remembered one of her grandfather's stories.

The old man recalled that with the outbreak of World War I and the scarcity of everything, the French had to get all the old stuff they could find out of their warehouses and send it to the army. Among them were surgical kits of the XIX century, which caused a lot of problems during disinfection just because of their wooden and bone handles. After all, at the time of their manufacture, the "miasma theory" prevailed, and germs were nothing more than amusing blots under a microscopic lens.

As a result of all her pondering, Lena took Bizot's alchemical trunk as an example and designed a sort of lightweight surgeon's field kit for carrying in a cart or not very far. Matrice was extremely interested in the idea, and Helena received both her blessing for the experiment and funds to order it from craftsmen. The work cost a pretty penny, to tell you the truth, but the result...

The result, however, was yet to be judged.

The box turned out just as the customer had described, with smoothed corners, lacquered with fish scale glue, and even with a wide strap for carrying on the shoulder. The craftsman had already, of his own accord, decorated the chest with sparing but elegant touches of shallow carving, and added shoulder straps in the manner of baskets which were often used here as a sort of "assault rucksack". This was something Lena had not ordered (because she hadn't thought of it), but it worked out well.

The lock (another thing Lena had forgotten about) was a simple hook and loop, but it fit very well and had an extra eye so that a small lock could be hung if desired. After removing the hook, the customer opened the chest.

Once again, everything was just as she wanted it. On the inside of the lid are leather loops for two different-sized amputation saws, as well as for cloth bags of corpia, which the girl intended to use as individual bandages. There were also several bandages and two bottles in a special attachment. One with a "milk" that killed the pain for a quarter of an hour, the other with a "freezing" elixir. The pale blue liquid cost a lot of money, but it magically "preserved" the wound, stopping all malignant processes in it for about three-quarters of a day or less. It was this stuff that allowed Codure to last so long with a mangled leg that when Lena began disinfecting the wound, the infection from the underground creature's claws had not yet had time to develop.

Beneath the upper lid was another twin lid, which opened to two sides, on the sides of the chest, turning into trays covered with thin bronze plates. The interior space was also organized. It was filled with drawers in three levels, four in a row. Bandages and cordials again, some for emergencies, because the main supply was supposed to be kept separately in a special bag. Another of Grandfather's wisdom - you can never have enough bandages in war. Tools, all polished metal, nothing superfluous. Tourniquets with wooden handles for tightening. Bags of calcined salt for solutions. Glass flask of "dead water" for wiping instruments. A set for cleaning and sharpening tools since stainless steel and disposable scalpels haven't been invented yet. And at the very bottom - medicines in tightly corked vials, stacked in a "honeycomb" with fine shavings and straw.

To herself, Lena immediately called the box a "Vietnamese Footlocker" because she remembered King's famous story[2]. The girl was pleased with the result. Judging by the faces of Matrice, Kai, and Santelli, they were very impressed, too.

"What's that?" The foreman pointed his finger at something faceted, like a knight's armor-piercing dagger, only without a guard and sharpened on one side.

"Amputation knife," the girl answered. Lena remembered that there was no special word for the definition of medical removal of limbs here, so she automatically composed it herself, using three roots meaning "ease," "mercy," and "cut".

"How's that?" frowned the foreman, trying to figure out how this dagger could mercifully cut off a leg.

"A special knife," explained the self-proclaimed medic. "To cut through the large muscles to open the bone. And then, the bone is carefully sawed off with this saw.

Lena did not mention that this particular variety and even the name "Big Amputation Knife NL 315x180" she remembered very well because Grandpa kept it in the kitchen and used it masterfully when cutting pork legs.

"Well, well," stretched Santeli vaguely, exchanging glances with Matrice. Lena didn't notice the exchange, absorbed in getting to know her new toy, but Kai did the opposite. And he didn't like it, either; the swordsman gritted his teeth and grunted. Lena didn't pay attention to that either, though.

"Pack it back," Matrice said briefly but not angrily. "Let's go somewhere."

"Where to?" asked Lena, complying with the instruction. The metal of the knives tinkled softly, wrapped in a leather roll, new, smelling of fresh wax impregnation.

"Not far," the apothecary cut off exhaustively.

Kai silently and angrily pulled a fork from the table, twisting a large, yellowish splinter at the chip. Saphir was still chiseling away at the fuel outside.

It didn't take long to walk to the southern part of Gate where Matrice had several barns combined into one warehouse complex. Rather, it was called something else, but that's how Lena saw it. Kai took the trunk and carried it lightly on his belt, holding it with his hand. The barns were not simple, but you might say capital, stone-built, with noise-muffling padding on the walls and no windows, with magical lamps. Into one of them, Matrice led a small company. The entrance was guarded by two of the apothecary's henchmen, large, grim-looking men with clubs at their waists and knives on long handles in their boot cuffs. They silently opened the gate and silently closed it behind the company. Lena looked around.

Judging by the large (and empty) tables along the walls, Profit was received and unloaded here. But now the warehouse had been transformed into a kind of laboratory and, by the looks of it, assembled "from scratch," not according to the original idea, but according to current needs. Matrice seemed to have been experimenting here with the most miasmatic agents, mixing them in a variety of bottles. It smelled simultaneously of oil, tar, varnish, olive oil, something tannic, something else chemical, and something else Lena could not identify even closely. And over this cacophony of smells ruled the persistent smell of evaporated urine. Like a tannery or a laundry.

In one corner stood a rope-rolling machine but without a handle or wooden runner. In another lay the unfinished hulk of a shield, not of simple planks, as was usually done, but of the highlander type, of two layers of slats bent over a steam bath. Next to the shield lined up tall - up to mid-thigh - jugs in a rope braid. Four pieces, tightly corked, with corks filled with wax.

Right in the middle of the barn, under a three-wick lamp, lay a man covered with burlap. Out from under the cloth were cheap, dirty, and tattered shoe covers made of one piece of leather, with a rope running through the holes all around the edge. When they were put on, the rope was tightened, and the result was a tight leather slipper. Something murmured and sniffled where the head was supposedly located. And then there was a burp so that the smell of liquor harmoniously blended in with the general stench. But there was something else... Lena sucked in the air, trying not to cringe in disgust. Exactly, a disgustingly familiar smell, unparalleled in her former life. There was simply nowhere for a city dweller to smell it. But here...

Kai put down the "Vietnamese footlocker" and leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest. Matrice repeated the gesture, only she didn't lean anywhere but instead spread her legs wider as if to stand more firmly on the stone floor generously sprinkled with hay. Santelli abruptly tore the burlap off the covered man, and Lena shuddered.

The man was poor, ragged, and dead drunk. Still big enough. He had obviously known better and more well-fed times. Now emaciated by chronic malnutrition and a disorderly life wherever and however he could. He was lying down on the roughly chopped half of the gate, tied up, the knots tightened without fanaticism but firmly. A man in his right mind would not be able to free himself without effort, but the drunkard was held securely by the ropes.

"The leg," the foreman pointed out, but Elena already understood that.

The right pant leg below the knee (the man wore pants, not stockings, so he probably once walked in a brigade) was torn and stained with dried blood and mucus. Shreds of the cloth were gnarled inside by swollen purple-blue flesh. Now that the tarpaulin had been removed, the smell of gangrene wafted through the barn, overpowering even the urine. At a glance, it was clearly diagnosed as an ill-treated wound that had already rotted away without any hope of a cure. What awaited yesterday's "tar man" had the festering stitch not been opened and treated.

Lena was sickened, and she took a step back mechanically. Kai suddenly smiled at the very corners of his lips. Matrice, on the contrary, frowned and ordered:

"Cut."

"What?" the girl didn't understand.

"Cut off his leg," explained Santelli patiently. "So he doesn't die of rot."

"Uh..." Lena took another step back.

And the day started out so well...

Santelli glanced at Matrice, shrugged, and drew an axe from his belt. A good saddle axe, seemingly deceptively small and light. The brigadier tossed the weapon, caught it, and bent sharply, crouching at the same time to increase the force of the blow. Elena didn't even have time to flinch; it all happened too fast. The polished metal with the dark sun branding glinted, and the point struck the board with a thud, shredding muscle and bone. The unfortunate man howled, twitching in his bonds, the pain penetrating even the impenetrable alcoholic fog.

Santelli pulled the axe out of the wood and carelessly tossed aside the severed leg just above the ankle, trying not to get dirty in the immediate and violent gush of blood. The red streams didn't look real against the swollen purple flesh.

"I made it easy for you. Work," the foreman ordered just as briefly.

* * *
[1] Sanguine, aka "red chalk," a variety of kaolin clay. A material for drawing, very popular until the 18th century, when natural reserves ran out. Thanks to its rich brown-red shades, it allowed a good transfer of images of the human body.

[2] Battleground
 
Chapter 14. The task of shortening
Chapter 14. The task of shortening

* * *

The blood was pouring weaker than expected, probably because the swollen tissues had blocked some of the vessels. Lena had seen arms and legs torn off, but until now, she had always acted as an assistant - to fetch water, bring a saw, wrap a stump... Matrice always did the main work herself.

Now no one was going to help. And the man howling muffled from under the ropes would die in a few minutes. Bled out. That was Elena's first thought. The second was simple and practical. The problem could be solved without extraordinary effort. She could stitch up the stump, and that would be that. The third thought burned with the realization that this would not help. Santelli had chopped above the main lesion, but not enough, so the rot would move along the limb further, to the thigh. And besides...

A long time ago, a girl asked an old army doctor. Why amputations were not done by a simple cut-off? With some instruments like a guillotine. She asked quietly, of course, because her mother would not approve of such a question, thinking that her daughter was learning too many "wrong," cruel things from the old man as it was. Grandfather grinned and explained in a conspiratorial whisper that any chopping can cause (and most likely will cause) chipping as well as cracks in the vertical plane of the bone. This is harmful and dangerous and can even lead to death. Therefore, only saw the bone, no other way.

The dark red puddle, meanwhile, grew larger and larger, reaching Santelli's feet. The gangrenous patient was no longer howling but crying softly, very pathetically, childishly. One could only wonder what demons were tormenting his alcohol-soaked mind. Or not alcohol... Wine could not so fill the brain that even with a severed foot the patient did not come to his senses properly. And moonshine and vodka were not drunk here in their pure form.

The brigadier pursed his lips and put the axe behind his belt, pointing the blade back behind his back. Kai smiled for the first time all day, unexpectedly kind. Matrice sighed, without much disappointment, with an "I told you so" look.

In some romantic story, Lena would now experience moments of incredible mental torment, and then an invisible Grandfather would stand over her shoulder and say something encouraging. And the girl would have prevailed, experiencing a catharsis, one might say, rising above herself. It's entirely possible. In fact, if something like this had happened a couple of days earlier, most likely, Lena would have simply dropped her hands, even under the threat of cruel punishment.

But not today.

For a moment, she thought she saw a shadow in the shadows, Ranyan standing silently in the far corner of the barn. He was the same as he had been the day before, after his encounter with the "deceiver". A black cloak, his hair flowing down to his shoulders in black waves. Impenetrable black eyes, with pupils through which death itself stared. And this look, as if it gave the girl strength, strengthened her trembling hands, filling them with abnormal, unnatural strength. She, an alien from another world, cannot kill as deftly as a routine or a "tar" like Shena. But she has different talents. If one person can kill without pity or regret, then another can return life in cold blood just as well.

"Can it?"

If you don't check, you won't know.

Mama! squeaked weak city girl Lena, ready to faint at the sight of the red puddle.

"Damn," said journeyman Hel sincerely, kneeling in front of the bleeding patient.

There were many thoughts, but now they obediently lined up like sheep that are supposed to be counted at bedtime.

"The footlocker," commanded the master imperiously, not looking back at Kai and tucking up her sleeves.

Memo: You need leather armbands. Be sure to remember and then write them down. Well-waxed, so they can be wiped down with vodka and saline.

The Vietnamese footlocker was already standing nearby, and Kai flipped open the lid and slid the trays apart. The swordsman was sad again, but he acted quickly and precisely. The vial of "milk" itself fell into his hand. The patient refused to swallow, so she had to squeeze his nose with one hand, the second to lift his head so he did not choke, and the third ... Anyway, the murky-white liquid did get to its destination, but on the way, Lena spilled half a bottle at once.

Memo: you need a pillow under the head, a small one, more like a roller. And also leather, easily washable.

"A waste of product," commented Matrice.

"He's twitching and stirring," snapped Hel, not raising her head. "Water! Lots of it. Hot."

The killer dose of opiate (or not... who knows?) worked almost immediately. Now the medic had twenty minutes until he came to his senses. Probably less, even correcting for the overdose. And he can't take it again - his heart will stop.

The thought, stray and fast - it is now quite like "The Fastest Knife in the West End,"[1] the main thing is not to repeat his anti-feat with three dead men in one operation.

Here's the water. A whole cauldron, hot and steaming. Where did they get it from? Never mind. Kai seems to have decided to act as an assistant, standing next to the big mug, ready to pour on command.

Damn, the most important thing!

"Tourniquet, tighten above the knee," Hel ordered, jerking her head toward Matrice... And the apothecary silently obeyed, quickly and professionally twisting the tourniquet with a wooden stick turnstile.

This is what the lack of practice means. At the critical moment, only what is hammered into your head at the level of reflex works. You don't have the skill to cut off the blood immediately - and you remember it by accident. A couple more minutes and the blood loss would have killed the gangrenous one, so no more tricks would have been needed. Now the rule is to write the time of the tourniquet on your forehead... if anyone here had a watch and a marker.

Memp: invent some kind of clamps for blood vessels. Bulgakov wrote about them in his Notes of a Country Doctor, just in the story about the amputation of a crippled peasant woman's hip. She wishes she could remember what it is and what it looks like... a useless thought, to think about something else.

"Pour!" Hel stretched her arms out to fly away, placing her hands under Kai's mug.

Of course, she should wash her hands with soap and water, but there is no time... nor is there any soap. Another thing she had forgotten about, which must necessarily be put in the chest. And several pieces in separate boxes.

Rinsing her fingers thoroughly under a stream of hot - ouch, almost boiling! - water, Hel frantically considered what to do next and how to do it.

The easiest way is to cut above the knee, there is only one bone there, and it will be easier to saw. But no, it's better not to go to the thigh, the muscles there are too thick, and the femoral artery is in the middle of nowhere. So you have to cut below the knee.

Here are scissors to use, special ones, according to her drawing, with curved and blunted ends so as not to hurt when cutting clothes. They are wildly uncomfortable. Instead of two halves on a screw - something like meat tongs with blades on the inner sides of the staple. It's like a clamp. Only it doesn't grip. It cuts. The pant leg, however, gave way easily. Open gangrene looked and smelled even more gruesome. The stench of stale sauerkraut seemed to make her teeth itch.

That's it. Now she can assess the full extent of the disaster. Oh, how bad it is!

Treating the future operating field with "dead water," the master concentrated on her movements, literally reciting each of them. Everything to ignore the feeling of rotting flesh under her bare fingers. Like lard of a blue-purple color with black flecks, both slippery and hot-dry at the same time. How is this possible all at once? She better not think about it, lest she throws up straight on the patient with Mother Chahar's stewed vegetables.

And then Hel realized with stunning clarity that the classic "patchwork" amputation, where the stump is covered with a piece of skin, she would not be able to do. No way at all. There was no skill, and therefore the flap would have to be literally cut out by eye from a real living person, who would soon regain consciousness. So she'd have to perform a conventional excision, with all the consequences she'd seen before - a cone-shaped scar, protruding bones, easy traumability, high likelihood of sepsis, and most likely death.

Hel glanced to the same corner as if hoping to see the ghost of a routier there again. And, of course, there was nothing in the shadows. But the second distraction was a little mind-washing. Something was in her head. Something about acting when the flap for the stump could not be cut, but it had to be done cleanly... Damn it, and after all, Grandpa had gently suggested she go into medicine after school. If she had listened then, now she would have a couple of years under her belt at least theory. God, how it would be useful here normal, orderly knowledge of the basics of the same anatomy...

Here it is! Hel gently pulled out the memory, like a fish on a thin fishing line, ready to break at any second. There seemed to be a solution, and technically feasible. This, of course, she had never done either, but such a trick was easier to replicate than a flap. If only the gangrenous one had enough leg below the knee because she would have to cut high, well above the lesion.

"Help me," she tossed to Santelli and immediately realized that it was the wrong choice. Asking for such help should have been a different person or at least a different tone.

"What do you need?" The foreman asked briefly and businesslike.

Hel ripped at the pant leg, tearing it almost to her groin. The fabric gave way easily, with a nasty crack. It made the medic imagine the sound of the bone being sawn off, and she bit her lip. For a moment, because she couldn't speak with her lip biting.

"Hands right here," she pointed. "Below the knee, here. And hold on tight."

Santelli silently obeyed the order. Matrice leaned over the operating field, however, trying not to hang over the heads of the participants and not to obscure the light.

Memo: she must have a small magical flashlight. In case she operates in the dark or, like now, when it seems to be light but it wouldn't hurt to illuminate it. These flashlights are expensive, but you have to...

However, all this will be later.

Hel picked up an amputation knife, the same one that reminded Santelli of a knight's dagger. And then she remembered the name of what she was about to do. "Cone-circle amputation." Well, what a fucking useful and timely knowledge...

"Now I'm going to make a circular cut down to the bone," she said without raising her head. Not so much to the foreman as to herself, laying out the upcoming action in a series of elements, imagining them one by one in every detail. The blood and mucus began to dry on her fingers, pulling her skin down disgustingly. It was as if she'd been kneading rotten mincemeat for a long time and never washed her hands.

"The skin and muscles will tighten, pull on themselves," Hel continued.

"I know, I saw it," threw in the foreman.

Just to avoid hitting my finger with my own knife. It seems that people often died from this, even some Bazarov in the nineteenth century...

"And when I tell you, pull hard and pull on yourself."

"Pull?" The foreman didn't understand. "What?"

"Pull everything," Elena exhaled angrily, trying on the knife. "And harder. I'll cut as high as I can where you move the... meat."

"Pull the muscle off the bone," Kai realized before anyone else, even before Matrice, more adept at the surgery. "Away from the saw, toward the knee itself. Just move it really hard."

"So the meat would come back and cover the sawed bone," now the apothecary had figured it out. "Then you can sew up the skin on the stump, like the neck of a sack."

Hel did not raise her head, so she did not see the undisguised respect that flashed in her employer's gaze. From peer to peer. Only for a little while.

"Got it," the foreman responded, clenching his fingers. "Cut."

And Hel began to cut. Or rather, she chopped, butchering like a butcher, even though the tourniquet was above the knee.

Memo: Glasses. The most ordinary glasses without diopters. Here they were surprisingly deftly crafted from imported glass. "Tarred" empirically came up with the idea of a high-contrast lens for twilight, fog, and marsh. And Hel needed glasses to avoid catching a pus drop in the eye.

Only now she understood what absolute, ultimate concentration is. It's the state where you feel nothing when you do your work. Well, almost nothing. The most important thing is that there is no fear, only a cold enthusiasm, an understanding that "you can do it". Or at least you will try, without thinking about what will happen afterward if you fail.

She could. And she did.

Hel thought that the scariest thing would be sawing the bones, but it was easy enough, incredibly easy, considering that there were two bones. But the unanswered question gnawed at her was what would happen when the tourniquet was removed and the blood rushed into the freed arteries. Would the stump bleed again? How heavy will it be? Or will blood clots have already formed in the area of the incision by then? Or should we cauterize it? Ambroise Pare would not approve...

Kai kept watering when and where he was told to. Santelli seemed about to rip the muscles off the bone; the foreman's fingers were truly iron. Matrice just breathed in the back of her head and watched. The sick man, meanwhile, was slowly coming to. He was pale, and the skin on his face was a waxy, almost lifeless appearance. Probably from the blood loss.

What was missing was a clock, an ordinary clock. Not only and not so much for controlling the procedure but for orientation in general. It seemed like at least an hour had passed, though fifteen minutes at most had passed.

Memo: in a "Vietnamese footlocker" you need an hourglass. At the very least, a water clock. You can't measure the minutes anyway, so you have to take the duration of the "milk" as a reference point.

God, so much blood... and disgusting slurry, which does not even look like pus. It is some wild melt of tissue with the inclusion of semi-decomposed lumps. This seems to be a case where the affected muscles can simply be removed without any knife, with a rag, layer by layer, down to the tibia bones. We need more water. It seems that wounds can be washed not only with saline but also with soapy water... or maybe not. She can't remember exactly now.

The severed stump without a foot fell on the slippery, blood-soaked wood with a thump that made her heart flutter and skip a beat.

"Let it go," exhaled Hel, feeling her fingers trembling with fatigue with a thread of plantain fibers. The medic used them to tie up the large vessels, the ones she could find. Her back ached wildly in the lumbar area.

Santelli let go, and it worked - the freed muscles went back into place, hiding the bone splices deep within the cone of soft tissue. The skin was more difficult, but it was enough to pull it over the incision with effort. Now to sew it up would be an intricate craft and shamanism.

Sew...

This time Hel had thought of Paraclete, the comforter of the afflicted. And she thought this uncovered stump, oozing red (at least it wasn't red-yellow, which was a good thing), was the same wound. And if you sew it up now, you'll get the same primary stitch. And with an increased risk of complications because of gangrene.

The main thing is that the bones aren't sticking out anymore, so she guess we could do with a tight bandage. You'd still get a scary granular scar. On the other hand, how did the real medics stitch it all up? It is possible to close the incision partially, leaving a hole for drainage.

But gangrene...

It's gangrene. You don't fuck with it, Gramps once said. Then he apologized to her mother for a long time and promised never to express such a way in front of the child again.

Lena looked at the patient. He was already teetering on the brink of awakening. His nostrils and eyelids twitched frequently, chaotically, and saliva flowed from his painfully curved lips in cloudy drops, staining his neck. The pain must have been terrible; a little more and the man would have come to such a sensation that he would have realized it even through the stupefaction. Yes, they were not just drugging him with wine...

Well, let's not... pussyfoot around, thought Hel. We'll disinfect it one last time and just bandage it up, no stitches.

"Hold him down," she said to the foreman and picked up the bottle of "dead water" again, which was about a quarter empty. The wet glass almost slipped from her fingers. Hel clenched her teeth and gripped the bottle securely with both hands.

Note: you need a clear bottle. In low light, you can't see through the brown glass how much liquid is left. Better yet, divide the disinfectant supply into several vials because if the bottle broke now, the entire supply would be gone at once.

Santelli remembered Codure's reaction to such manipulations, and he had been washing out small cuts with moonshine more than once since then. The foreman put his whole body on the patient. It was very opportune.

"Go away," said Matrice gloomily as the apprentice prepared a bandage, that is, a short, long strip of boiled cloth.

"What?" Hel didn't understand.

"Get off," the woman repeated. "I'll wrap it myself."

Her legs ached as if her kneecaps were about to break like bones had been dried in an oven. So without rising, Lena crawled to the side, helping herself with her wet hands. Straws stuck to her palms, mixed with the blood. She wanted to cry, from the fatigue, from the "sinking" after an absolutely wild ordeal. And from resentment at such an insulting attitude after the most difficult surgery.

She sat down and began mechanically scrubbing the dirt from her fingers. She thought in passing that it wasn't so much that the dress was ruined but that she would have to wash it long and hard. She couldn't do it on her own, so she'd have to pay the laundresses in silver. Only they get rid of blood without ruining the fabric.

"What's with the junk?" Kai clarified rudely. Elena's success seemed to upset him for some unknown reason.

"He'll lie here for a day or two. The guards will feed him. Then throw him out with the other cripples, and let him beg," Matrice sentenced him with her usual domestic harshness. Kai nodded silently, appreciating the generosity of the apothecary, who, though for her purposes, had done a good deed by giving another chance to the doomed sufferer. Whether he seizes the opportunity or loses, it is up to Pantocrator's will. People die in the wastelands. Often for nothing.

Matrice tied the last knot, critically evaluating the work.

"It'll do," she verdict. "Mouse and Saphir will collect and clean the healing box later. As for you..."

The gazes of all three of them-Santelle, Kai, and Matrice - crossed over Elena. The girl looked up and down at them, her eyes empty of anything but mortal fatigue.

"To the bathhouse," the apothecary concluded firmly.

"Shena's just about to make the heat," smirked Santelli, who looked as content as a meowr drunk on thick, fat milk.

"And then we'll talk," Matrice said, and she shook off the clinging piece of bloody bandage from her hand. "There's something to talk about..."

* * *

Shena splashed a ladleful of "hogweed" infusion on the stones again, in which a couple of spoonfuls of Weeping Root extract had been diluted. It was as if a steam bomb had exploded over the hearth, and Lena's breath caught as if she had inhaled the purest eucalyptus oil. The tears gushed out, but very "softly," without any rubbing in her eyes. It was as if she had looked at the world through the smoked glass before, and now her eyes were cleansed with each tear. Her pupils seemed crystal. Knock on them with a fingernail through a closed eyelid, and it echoed with an amazing ringing. It was a strange sensation, but it was pleasant nonetheless. Pure.

Lena had avoided experimenting with local herbs before, justifiably fearing allergies. If the ragweed of her native Earth caused her swelling and shortness of breath, then the alien active phytonutrients could well put her in her grave. But this time she gave up and decided to surrender to the will of the Paraclete. As it turned out, I was not mistaken. This bath turned out to be the best of her life.

"More?" asked Shena loudly, overlapping the angry hissing of rocks.

Lena nodded silently, then thought the gesture might not be noticed, and said: "Yes."

Unexpectedly she smiled broadly and boldly added: "Don't spare it!"

Shena seemed to smile, too (which she rarely did, usually the Valkyrie grinned angrily in obvious menace), and lowered the ladle into the barrel of herbal brew.

Elena spread her arms like Rose on the bow of the Titanic. She sucked in a chest full of dense, herbal-scented air. It seemed as if she could inhale endlessly-the healing vapor spreading down her nasopharynx, then penetrating further, stroking the branches of the bronchi with its soft warmth, and finally dissolving into the alveoli without a trace. Further on, further on, until there is nothing but bliss and a single thought in the entire universe:

Good... God, it feels so good...

Only a person who has to work really hard and hard soiled in mud and other filth, reaching the limits of mental endurance - is able to understand what a bathhouse is. Not an oxymoronic parody of the bustling city with the so-called "dry steam", but a real bathhouse, where in the semi-darkness the hot stones glow dark red. And of course, there must be steam, real "angry" steam, a lot of steam, which heats the exhausted body to the last bone, clears and opens the blood vessels to the tiniest capillaries, which without a magnifying glass is impossible to see.

In general, a proper bath is a supremely good thing. Whoever has experienced it, understands its essence. The unlucky ones... well, there's no use in describing it. There are things you just have to experience.

Matrice's bathhouse was built on a stone foundation of real imported wood. The logs were too thin, though, so they were coated on the outside with something else, like plaster. There was only one window, with the usual mica, so there was just enough light not to bump into another person washing or the heater in the middle of the steam room.

In her former life, it wasn't that Lena avoided the baths... rather indifferent to it. Well, yes, romance, old-school, gray-haired antiquity, physiological effect on the body. But the shower is still better. In the new one, she appreciated it and tried to attend regularly. Part of it was a far-reaching calculation, the understanding that there is no real medicine and no longer will be (unless the girl finds a way back home), so the body must be protected as a valuable, usable capital. But most importantly, without a magic faucet with endless hot water, the bath was the only way to wash normally, by the standards of the urban dweller of the twenty-first century.

Unfortunately, it happened less often than I would have liked. Lena tried to take her bath alone, which meant that she had to choose a time when the low as if grown into the ground, an annex to Matrice's apothecary warehouse was free. It wasn't often. The sinister aunt knew how to wash, steaming in two days on the third, and she regularly rented the baths to a select few like Santelli.

But today, the bathhouse was at the complete disposal of Elena and the unexpectedly good-natured Shena, who steamed herself and acted as a bath attendant.

A new cloud of steam hissed through the bathhouse like a thermobaric bomb. The tears flowed in an endless stream, so much so that it seemed as if not only her eyes but the entire skin of her face were being cleansed, "crying out" the notorious toxins. Shena's body in the clouds of steam seemed to glow milky white, except for her tanned face and hands. This was the first time Lena had seen the "tarred" one of the Santelli Brigade so close, so long, and naked. Usually, the Valkyrie with the spear shunned the apothecary's apprentice and generally "turned her nose up". Within tolerance, but still unpleasant. But today, it was as if Shena had been replaced; she seemed almost friendly.

Valkyrie crouched on the shelf, massaging her knee, while Lena surreptitiously examined her through her tangled hair, professionally reading the marks of a difficult life on her lean body.

Elena had long noticed that Shena was not a cripple but squatted only on her right leg. Now it was clear that her left shin had once been broken, hence the problems with her knee. The fracture must have been treated by a good bone surgeon, and the limb was nearly undamaged.

A vertical scar on her right thigh. It's very thin but long. She couldn't see the dots from the stitches, but Lena was sure they were there, just about healed. An unsutured wound would have left a much wider scar. A clear cut. Claws and teeth would leave very different marks. Like on the right side, where the clawed paw had gone through the ribs. This was serious, and I didn't even have to look at the subsequent surgical cuts and darning. Surely not without the "freezing" elixir, otherwise, the wounded lancer would not have been taken to the Apothecary.

Another scar stretched a whitish thread from the base of his neck to his left armpit. Well, everything was clear here. It had been cut from top to bottom in the hand-to-hand fight. Lena had seen wounds like that many times before and had even stitched them up from time to time under Matrice's supervision. Shena had clearly been lucky. The blow came from the very end of the blade and only cut the skin, barely touching the pectoral muscle.

The lancer's fingers and palms are covered in small dots, an inevitable consequence of camping life. No matter how careful you are, no matter how thick your gloves are, you can't avoid cuts and burns, especially if you regularly go down to the dungeon for Profit. Resin from the torch dripped, unfortunately burning the sleeve, and there was a new dot. Lena looked at her palms, already pretty rough, marked by the cuts of an apothecary knife. In a few more years, her hands would be just like those of the Valkyrie. Well, almost the same since she didn't carry a spear, so she was free of the specific blisters.

Generally speaking, it seemed that it was mostly humans, not monsters, who had tried to harm Shena. With the exception of her leg and side, all the other marks on her body screamed human weaponry. Especially the two parallel scars on her stomach, between her navel and her chest. They were nasty scars... too twisted, too bizarre. When they want to kill, they hit differently, straight and to death. These same marks suggested a thin blade that had been ornately and imaginatively drawn across a living body. Shallowly and long ago - the pattern of thin, pale lines had thinned with time - trying to inflict the maximum pain.

Lena felt cold, very cold as if an icy draught had inexplicably crept through the door, tightly locked and with felt upholstery on the outside. The girl distinctly shifted, the same way she had felt when she fell into her nightmares. The abundance of steam only increased the feeling of unreality of what was happening. Another nightmare seemed to persistently knock on the thin veil, ready to burst from her subconscious.

... The white dress. The wine mixes with blood. The knife. An unusual knife. In Elena's world, it would be called a "Craft" knife. The handle is not a rod, but a plate, in continuation of the blade, and is covered on both sides not by wooden cheeks but by soft leather overlays. Such knives are rarely made, usually for a lot of money, not for work, but to demonstrate the skill of the smith and the wealth of the customer, which can pay for useless work. But this blade sharpened like a razor - was used ...

Shena finished her massage on the oddly sore knee and glanced at Hel, who in turn stared at the Valkyrie's slashed belly with a vacant, paused gaze. The apothecary apprentice's pupils dilated to the edge of her iris, almost like the " deceiver's " and pulsed, contracting finely. Tears rolled in torrents, washing over the unblinking eyes. Hel mumbled something with whitened lips, and there was only one word she could make out.

"Pàtrean."

Pattern, "arabesque."

Shena flinched, a grimace of angry, unthinking rage literally cracking her face. Quickly grabbing the tub of cold water that still had ice floating in it, the lancewoman poured the contents into the face of Matrice's apprentice.

Lena shuddered, crouched down, covering herself with her arms like an animal waiting to be struck. The bottomless wells of her pupils shrank into thin dots, taking on their normal appearance. Her head was empty and ringing, the way it is when you stand up too sharply, and for a couple of moments, the brain is without a proper blood supply. Her memory, like a torn net, caught only a few of the twilight images from the roughly severed vision again.

Shena was looking down at Lena, and the lancer's eyes were literally blazing with a fierce rage. For a moment Lena thought for a moment that the Valkyrie was going to hit her. Not a slap in the face, but a full blow that would kill or at least maim. That was the look of people whose darkest, most shameful secrets had been extracted from long-standing oblivion and publicly revealed.

The apprentice realized that perhaps she had never been as close to death as she was at that moment. And quite intuitively, at one subconscious, she whispered:

"I'm sorry."

Now it was as if Shena had been plucked from the fog of blind rage. She exhaled and very carefully, exaggeratedly carefully, placed the empty bucket next to the stove. Elena sobbed and wiped away another batch of tears. Shena mechanically repeated her gesture. The weeping root worked on the lancewoman as well, only a little weaker because of the habit. And then Lena burst into hysterical laughter. She imagined what it all looked like from the outside and could not stop. Her laughter burst out in an uncontrollable wave, washing away her fear. Shena stared in bewilderment.

"You... Look..." Lena struggled, feeling her diaphragm cramp with laughter. "Two naked girls... in a bathhouse... fighting... weeping... It's a show! ... A fair..."

Of course, she'd overreacted about the "fight" part. Though Hel was a large and strong woman by the standards of the Wasteland, in a fight, Shenna could have tied the "girl from Earth" in a knot and broken her in any way she wanted. But ... the lancer frowned, then frowned even more, really trying to look at the whole thing from the outside. She carelessly tossed aside her bangs, which should have been trimmed years ago. The emerald eyes flashed yellow-green, like laser beams piercing through the thinning steam that should have been "freshened up" a long time ago.

And then Shena laughed, too, and clapped her hands.

"We can take the money!" It was her time to force the words out through a torrent of unrestrained merriment. "No more than five spectators at a time!

"No pennies or cut coins," Hel echoed. Her wet, dark red hair spread like liquid flames flowing down her shoulders. Full coins only!"

A new burst of laughter seemed about to explode the bathhouse from the inside.

"Our beauties are getting pretty excited, just like Gee's little fusspots," Matrice remarked sneeringly, raising her head. "They'll turn my bathhouse into a brothel."

"Let them turn," Santelli shrugged and pulled out a small bar from his belt pouch to fix the axe because the bones of the severed leg left barely visible jagged lines on the blade. "That would be even better. Shena will look after her even more diligently then. Personal interest. It brings people closer together and binds them together. But they won't turn. She's shy."

"You don't say," now the apothecary repeated the same gesture. "Did you see how she cut the leg? Just like your executioner, didn't flinch a finger until it was over. But... Yeah, she might be a flint in the medicine business... in time. But other than that..."

The apothecary sighed as if genuinely feeling her student's shyness. Santelli smiled at the edges of his lips, like a man who knows more than he wants to say. He slid the cleaver across the axe, making a thin, clinking noise in the steel. Then he spoke:

"I don't mean Hel."




After a good laugh, the women looked at each other more seriously.

"I don't know what you saw," Shena said very seriously. "But if you tell anyone, I'll kill you. You won't get any help from Matrice or Foreman. I'll kill you."

It sounded absurd, like, I don't know, but I'll kill for sure. But Lena took the lancer's promise without a shadow of a doubt as if it were true.

"I won't tell anyone," she promised just as seriously. "I promise."

"All right," agreed Shena. "I won't take the blood oath, but you said it. Now let's just pour one more drink, and then we'll call it a day. It's getting close to sundown. There's more to do today."

* * *
[1] Robert Liston (1794-1847) was a British physician famous for fast amputations (in two to three minutes). He is also famous for the fact that he once achieved a mortality rate of 300% - in the course of an operation, he amputated the leg of a patient (who then died of gangrene), cut the fingers of his assistant (with the same outcome), touched one of the observers with his knife, who died immediately (most likely from fear and a heart attack).
 
Chapter 15. "The Big World"
Chapter 15. "The Big World"

* * *

Evening creeps up unnoticed...

Charley thought how much of a cliché it is, the time of day or the year that "creeps up unnoticed". Every aspiring wordsmith incorporates it into his poetry or fiction, thinking he is original and high in style. On the other hand, how else could it be said? If the evening really creeps up. And it does so "unnoticed".

After a brief conversation with the foreman and his partner, culminating in an agreement (but not a handshake, which marks the final agreement), Matrice offered the guest a spare room on the second floor of the house, just above the Apothecary, next to the journeymen's quarters. The first night is free of charge as a token of goodwill. Charley, of course, most politely declined, referring to his principles and his father's precepts. And he paid a reasonable price, three pennies a day. Judging by the eyes of the foreman and the apothecary, he was right, for the free stuff always ended up costing the most. The wisest thing would have been to decline the offer for a day, but the prospect of spending the night on the innkeeper's bench again, half-eyed, with the dagger in his hand, was depressing. Well, as the great Ogoyo used to say, life is a reasonable compromise between the desirable and the achievable.

Maitre set aside the table, which, in the city's fashion, was fastened directly to the wall on a copper hinge and secured by a chain with a hook. Very convenient. When you needed it, you put it down. When it wasn't needed, you put it back. Charley laid his weapon on the table and, at last, removed his cloak, which smelled of the acrid fumes of the slate fires. With a groan, he pulled his boots off, untied the footcloth, and wiggled his achingly battered toes. The floor was thoroughly swept, and he went barefoot, squinting with pleasure. It felt good! Almost like jogging in the morning dew, known to cure feet better than any healer.

He had to hand the clothes over to the laundresses before the smell of sweat soaked into the dense fabric turned into a stale stench that gave away the stench of a homeless hobo. He had to buy some new clothes before the shirt began to fall apart on his body, had to... he had... Only it was all worth pennies or even coins. He and Brigadier Santelie hadn't struck a deal yet, so there was no point in asking for an advance.

There was a knock on the door, quite loudly, but somehow not very confidently, as if the visitor doubted whether he should visit.

"Come in," Charley invited, pushing back the deadbolt and mechanically running his palm over the hilt of the dagger on his belt. It's unlikely that a visiting brether was here to be murdered or robbed, but it could happen. Maitre himself had caught people off guard more than once who thought that since they were under the roof, in a house full of hosts and servants, they had nothing to fear.

The door opened almost without creaking - no oil was spared in the hinges, and that spoke well of Matrice's house and her wealth. At the threshold - without stepping over - froze, eyes downcast, was Matrice's apprentice, who was to play the role of brigade healer in the coming venture. A rather tall girl in a plain - obviously off-the-shoulder - dress and a headscarf, tied in the manner of a turban, carefully hiding her hair. In her hand, Hel - a strange name for a woman - was holding a small basket covered with a cloth.

"Come in," the brether repeated with the lightest note of impatience. The brether was tired and intended to retire for the night, but before he went to bed, on a real bed, however narrow, under a warm hide, he would ponder the offer of Santelli for a while longer. Or rather to decide definitively whether the offer was worth the coins it was offered for. The pay was not bad. Not great, but very, very reasonable. In a big city, that's what you'd pay for an assault on a middle-class merchant, escorted by a retinue of over ten men in chain mail and military helmets. And by the standards of the Wastelands, as far as Charley was concerned, it was a royal offer.

However ...

It was these "however" that the brether intended to think about thoughtfully, without haste, and the apprentice got in the way.

Hel (no, who thought of naming the girl after the demon in Erdeg's entourage, the lord of the Underworld?) stepped over the low threshold. Her wooden "hooves" tapped with each step. The girl did not look up and generally had a modest, pious appearance. However, the usual for villagers subservience to the man with a weapon in her was not felt. Neither was she willing to please a man in bed in any way she could for a few pennies. No, the girl had not come to make money.

"I'm listening," Charley tried to be polite. Or at least appear to be.

"Here..." Still, without raising her eyes, Hel removed the rag from the basket and pulled out a vial of clear liquid. It's big enough, about half the size of a normal camping pot. "I think you could use it."

"What's in there?" Charley, of course, did not think to pick up the strange gift. He knew the trick with the exploding elixir well, though he didn't use it, considering it beneath his dignity. And unreliable.

Hel finally looked up. She looked not eye to eye, but just below her interlocutor's chin, that is, quite freely and at the same time without defiance. Her eyes were dark. Instead of answering, the apprentice silently ran her finger along the edge of her lower eyelid.

"So noticeable?" asked Charley grimly after a brief pause.

"Just a little," Hel responded. "Barely."

"And yet noticeable," grinned the brether just as gloomily.

"I've been selling tinctures from... this, long enough," the apprentice also allowed herself a smile, but a very modest one, barely. "I'm used to seeing."

"I see," Charley sighed. Not particularly friendly, though, and not angry. He took the vial and twirled it in his fingers with a skeptical and even slightly suspicious look. "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Drink," advised Hel exhaustively.

Now she looked directly into the fencer's eyes, making sure that her initial diagnosis was correct. Charley's whites were flushed, like the eyes of a man who hadn't slept in a long time and was exhausted from the arduous journey. But only the discerning eye could see that the red threads of inflamed blood vessels were folded into a thin crescent that curved around the lower edge of his pupil. Barely noticeable on the right eye and slightly more distinct on the left.

"Do you inhale, or do you drink?" clarified the apprentice.

"I drink," the brether said through gritted teeth. And, though the apprentice was not interested, he explained briefly. "Old wounds. It hurts."

"Drink," Hel repeated. "Every time you come to your senses ... afterward. Keep a mug of water beforehand, not cold, dilute five drops in it and drink slowly, in small sips. After taking a little lie down and do not rush with food, the tincture should work."

"What's in it for me?"

"Those who 'drink' often suffer from stomach congestion, throat constriction, and intestinal concerns," Charley noticed how freely Hel operated with challenging, medicinal words. "The infusion will alleviate all that."

"Really..." Charley raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"Yes. Verified," Hel smiled again. "It's a very marketable commodity... And proven."

"Well..." the brether glanced at her questioningly, looking for a catch. He couldn't find one, so he put the vial on the table next to the battle hammer, deciding he'd deal with it at his leisure. Later. "Thank you. How much?"

Hel lowered her eyes and did something like a crouch. Charley noted that the girl was clearly not of noble birth, but also not of the common people. Her movement was... Exquisite enough, like a good actress, and not a fairground, but from the real theater.

"It's a gift," Hel unexpectedly reported. "But ... I would be very grateful if you could tell me something.

"What, exactly?" Charley instantly pulled himself up and lowered his hand again as if to hold it casually to the dagger.

The apprentice sighed as if gathering her strength.

"Tell me about the world," the girl asked. "About the outside," she made a broad gesture with her hand around an imaginary semi-circle.

"Uh..." the brether was confused for a few moments. Then he finally understood. And he smiled broadly.

"All right," he agreed. "But you will do me a favor in return. Tell me how life works here on the Wastelands. And how is mining the famous ... Profit."

"Deal," Hel returned the smile.

"There's only one chair," Charley thought for a moment. "Let's sit on the bed... This, of course, will not oblige you in any way," he hastened to assure the girl.

"Oh, yes, of course," Hel modestly shrugged and then quite busily retrieved the wax tablet from the basket. "Let's get started."

From the outside, it might seem strange that after more than a year in the new world, Elena had very little idea of life outside the Wastelands. But in fact, it was normal and easy to explain if you take into account her surroundings and the specifics of the conditional Middle Ages. And the fact that Lena was simply afraid to make special inquiries and gathered information in bits and pieces, by isolated clauses, so as not to give away her alien origins.

The vast majority of the inhabitants of the desert lands were illiterate and came from the "lower classes". That is, the very people for whom time ended at the memories of their elders, and space was beyond the line of sight and the nearest fair town. In addition, the Wasteland was also a destination for the dysfunctional, lost to the rest of the world, often with the heavy burden of multiple crimes behind them.

Listening to their terse mutterings about their former life, correlating them to the life of the Wastelands, Lena formed a picture of a small "compact" world, which long ago fell into decline, and so remained to this day in the stable position of the protracted "dark ages". And of the times of former greatness remained only the ruins of cyclopean buildings and legends of the "Four Kingdoms" and the great Empire. A golden age that tragically ended.

And now Lena was listening to Maitre Charley with her mouth hanging open. The girl was lucky - the hired fighter seemed to have received a fairly decent education, including a good knowledge of history. Brether, apparently, took the girl for an uneducated but curious burgher with an inquisitive mind and told her slowly, thoroughly, in simple, understandable words, accompanying the lecture with short notes and diagrams on the wax tablet.

To begin with, Lena realized that the world was not an island or a small continent as she was used to imagining it. Intelligent life here spread out over the expanse of a huge continent, which was called the Ecumene. The word was quite different, of course, but Lena could not find a better analog for the definition, which included three roots and was interpreted simultaneously as home, a place to live (in a broad sense, including fields, water, and everything else necessary for survival), a primordial source of life, and even a cradle.

As Charley drew the rough outlines of the Ecumene on the dark wax, Lena was overwhelmed by a persistent sense of deja vu. The continent reminded her very much of the map from "Conduit and Swambrania," a great and, unfortunately, now almost forgotten book that Grandfather loved madly and knew almost by heart. Only unlike the Swambran world, oriented strictly from south to north, the trident of Ecumene was pointing downward and sideways to the southwest. On the left side, a bay like a narrow sea was deeply embedded in the body of the continent. On the right was a huge freshwater lake, with access to the ocean, and larger than the great lakes of North America combined, according to Lena's calculations. In the center of the continent, mountain ranges were grouped, which were crossed by a grid and turned the relief of the Ecumen into a kind of cone with descents from the mountains to the shores of the ocean.

Once, a state called the "Old Empire" united the known world under its rule and held it for more than a millennium (maybe longer, Charley's knowledge of ancient history was regrettably poor). However, a terrible thing happened - a cataclysm that destroyed the Empire in a matter of hours, wiping out the foundation of its existence. That is advanced magic, which provided everything from abundant agriculture to communication and bureaucratic workflow. The great state fell, scattered along the borders of the protectorates, which, in turn, split into even smaller formations. This happened more than a quarter of a millennium ago, 293 years to be exact. In the intervening time, the population recovered relatively (but only relatively, since "natural" agriculture yielded significantly fewer provisions), and the new life was more or less settled.

The western part of the Ecumene was assembled after the catastrophe in the image of Western Europe. There was a Kingdom of the West with self-governing territories, baronies, rebellions, and other feudal exotics[1]. The East survived the Cataclysm a little easier and retained more of the trappings of civilization. From Charley's description, Lena has the impression that the Kingdom of the East is more like Byzantium, only more amorphous and less organized (which was understandable, given the absence of enemies like the Persians and Turks). It even had its own dynasty of emperors, deriving its roots from the Old Empire and, on that basis, demanding subordination from the rest of the world. But since only twenty-two houses of Bonom Primators (that is, the "best people") remained of the old "Old" aristocracy, and they were all known by name, and the new "emperors" were not among the Bonoms, the world largely ignored these claims, and the dynasty ruled mainly in its own palace.

The South was never even formally unified, remaining an Italian-like confederation of independent cities. The cities were famous for their Crossbow Knights, who retained the old magical art of marksmanship. Each such warrior had his own retinue that guarded him, reloaded his weapons, and provided for him in every way. Enchanted crossbows could hit one and a half or two times farther than usual, penetrating any armor, and the knights were hired across the continent.

The Middle Mountains were occupied by a tribal alliance of highlanders, like a cross between Switzerland and the Caucasus, who supplied the best mercenary infantry for the many internecine struggles. There was nothing more Charles could say about them.

To the southwest, just between the hammer-shaped protrusion of the Kingdom of the West and the southern tooth of the Confederacy, was Schwambran Piligwinia, that is, the Island. According to Charley's scheme, it was about the same size as Ireland was about the size of Europe. The Island was the least affected by the Cataclysm, organized a trade federation of free merchants, and over the past centuries has in fact monopolized the maritime trade. The latter flourished even despite the difficulties of seafaring arising from the large moon and powerful tides because the central mountains made overland transport from end to end of the ecumene extremely difficult. So most of the coin for water transport fell into the pockets of the island merchants and the rest into the pockets of their "affiliated partners" from the continent.

The Island had a name, but no one used it because there were many islands and only one Island. Likewise, on the mainland, there were many cities, large and small, newly built and rebuilt on old foundations. But there was only one City: the capital of the lost Empire on the right shore of the great lake. The megalopolis of this world, with all its suburbs and surrounding territories, had about a hundred thousand "hearths," that is, more than half a million people.

Hel, I know how to count, Charley hummed in response to her eloquent, highly mistrustful gaze. Five times a hundred thousand, or five hundred times one thousand. Half a million. Maybe more. The last time the hearths were rewritten was twenty years ago.

From the slip of a tongue, the brether came from the City, but the subject was clearly and distinctly unpleasant to Charley, so Elena refrained from inquiring.

Charley was talking, and Lena could feel the collapse of what was already a fairly solid, well-established view of the world. An ecumene, which had seemed dwarfed and even a bit parodic, suddenly expanded to immense boundaries. It became a vast universe that lived, developed, and fought.

"That's it..." The brether carefully smoothed out the last line with his stylus, turning the scratched field of the wax tablet to its former clean surface.

For a moment, Lena wondered if she should pound iron while it was still hot. On the Wastelands, they prayed to one god, Pantocrator, one in sixty-six attributes. But two gods, Ishtan and Erdeg, Savior and Protector, the fathers of the Middle, earthly world, were sometimes remembered. How did this combine? A mainstream and heretical offshoot? A remnant of local paganism? Or something else?

But after a moment's reflection, the girl decided not to take the risk. No one in the Wastelands gave a damn about their neighbors' faith, the rare churchmen were limited to preaching, and Hel had never once been asked what she believed in during her stay. However, Charley had just, literally the other day, come from the outside world, and who knows if such a defiantly amateurish question would shock him and what it would lead to...

"I held up my end of the bargain," the brether reminded her, looking at her questioningly. It sounded special... Meaningful. As if the subject of contracts and responsibilities were of special importance to Charley.

It makes sense, Elena thought. A man who makes a living from death must be very scrupulous on the subject of reciprocal obligations.

"I was told that it all started after the... calamity," she began, trying to imitate Charley, speaking just as leisurely and methodically. And she realized right away that the beginning was wrong. Because the truth is...

Everything actually started much, much earlier.

The northernmost part of the Ecumene, crowned by a long bay, was developed later than the rest of the continent. It took people a long time to find a way through the mountain barriers, but the search was worth it. According to the legends, the pioneers discovered a plain. Everything there was abundant, and the gulf provided a convenient connection to the metropolis, finally closing the single ring of maritime trade around the continent.

It was impossible not to fight for such land, and they immediately began to fight for it, though it is not clear how it worked within a united Empire. One way or another, the plains had earned the reputation as a place where bountiful crops were watered with blood, not water. And then the Cataclysm happened. And again, if the legends are to be believed, the epicenter of the universal catastrophe was located here. Therefore, if in the Ecumene "simply" disappeared magic (or rather, its power fell momentarily to a vanishingly small level), and a series of animal transmutations took place, then on the Northern plains the disaster was reflected physically, horrifically, and materially.

Great fires had scorched the famous woodlands that provided the best wood for building ships. Several rainy years in a row washed much of the fertile soil into the rivers and ocean. The plains became a wasteland where most of the continental flora was not grafted and instead of a half dozen varieties of wheat, only one cereal like millet, nutritious but absolutely devoid of flavor, grew from now on.

That was only one part of the trouble. The other part was that the Wastelands were "radiating" like a nuclear explosion crater, only not with radiation. The residual level of magical energy was higher than in the rest of the world, but it was poisoned. It brought to life enduring forms of monstrous life and changed the very nature of the world around it. Only here, and nowhere else, could one fall under the "evil sun," or stir up a colony of giant hornets whose venom corroded the glass, or be caught in the claws of the feral meowrs, the cannibals called taguars. Evil, poisoned magic made navigation in the bay and adjacent areas impossible - the transmuting woodworm mollusks devoured wood at such a rate that there was a special specialty among ship crews. In dangerous areas, the most sensitive "listener" would walk around the hold with a listening ear for days on end.

For the first half-century, this land of destruction and death remained deserted. The only people who showed up here were the madmen, the most desperate cutthroats, and the "people of magic". Witches, sorcerers, risky guild mages-all of whom used the higher magical background for their training and dangerous practices.

And they were the first to know that the Cataclysm had not only disfigured this land but had also gifted it in an unexpected way...

* * *
[1] It is necessary to understand that in fact it is all called quite differently and differs from earthly practice in many respects. But Elena chooses for herself the closest and most comprehensible analogs.
 
Chapter 16. The Grave Robber's Travel Kit
Chapter 16. The Grave Robber's Travel Kit

* * *

When you clean a well-treated primary stitch one day and perform an impromptu amputation the next, you can't help but expect bad things from the third day. However, it turned out to be rather... interesting. One might even say exciting.

Early in the morning, Matrice placed the faithful Saphir at the Apothecary's counter and handed Shena a purse with change chips instead of money. And Santelli ordered Hel to be equipped for the journey, without frills or weaponry, but with dignity. For about two weeks of wandering. There was no need to buy more consumables for the medicine chest. Take only ... For herself, Lena translated the turnover as "Travel Kit".

And the women went to the market. Perhaps for the first time in all her time in the Gate, Elena found herself in a situation where there was no need to rush anywhere. No list to keep in mind without missing a single item, no heavy basket on her shoulder. But there is an abundance of expectation of something new and interesting.

Strictly speaking, Lena was well aware that she had embarked on an outright adventure. The trip to the Wastelands was a perplexing undertaking in itself, one from which people didn't return regularly. And a raid on the Marshes ... more dangerous than that were considered only entries into the Coastal Caves, where people were swiftly enriched or went missing, with no states in between and a very eloquent proportion.

However, the coming adventure promised dramatic changes in her life, an increase in her social "status," and most importantly, money.

After Charley's stylus the day before had shown Lena the vast world beyond the Wastelands, she was determined to get out of there. Not now, of course, and not even soon. But to get out to a place where there are normal big cities, lots of people, and life doesn't revolve around carts of corpses and Profit.

Someplace where, after all, the dead are buried, or at least burned, rather than fed to the caged Gray Shadows, the farm where spider silk is produced.

Chasing Shena was not easy, especially in Elena's wooden pads. Valkyrie zigzagged between the trading rows, navigating her "equipment" with the ease of an experienced traveler. This ease even created a certain irritation in Lena. The girl suddenly began to think that she could have studied the various nuances of camping life and "road whales" herself. "Somehow, it didn't fit," yes, but that, in any case, was a weak excuse.

To begin with, Shena resolutely dragged her ward past the first three stalls that sold seemingly good stuff for a more than reasonable price. When Lena was (quietly) surprised, the lancer briefly clarified the point: they sold "strjom." Translate it into Russian more accurately Elena could not. Strjom is strjom - equipment, which was sold to inexperienced novices as gold seekers in the Klondike and Alaska, and then returned in various mysterious ways back to the wooden tables under the old tarpaulin tents. And so it went on and on, changing up to three or five or more owners in a row, who had no idea that each other even existed.

After getting past the murky merchants, Shena went headlong into the normal trade. To begin with, Elena became the owner of three pairs of real wool socks, as well as felt insoles. At the same time, the goods were not taken by the girls but set aside so that later the traders would deliver them with a messenger boy. Shena did not pay with money but with special pieces from Matrice's purse, which looked like casino chips or bingo barrels. It was a kind of quick check, which could then be used to get money directly from the apothecary's cash register. In the Wastelands, as a rule, only cash was trusted, but Matrice's word and reputation were worth a lot and were highly valued.

Then it was time for the most important thing - shoes. Elena had hoped for boots but had to make do with shoes just above the ankle. Very good clogs, though, with double soles of thick leather, as thick as a finger. This "style" meant that the boots could continue to be worn without repair after the first layer of soles had worn away. No impregnation made the shoes completely waterproof, but the combination of wraps, socks, and insoles helped keep the feet warm and relatively dry.

Elena felt almost happy. She wanted to change her shoes immediately and finally feel the feet of a normal sole, not a rigid pad. But the girl held back her impulse, trying to seem composed and collected.

After the shoes, Shena moved on to the clothes. Lena was going to insist on linen shirts because she was tired of shivering every time she pulled the prickly wool over her naked body. But she remembered that she didn't buy them for anything, from Matrice's generosity, but on credit, from her future medicine bonus for the hike. So she had to choose not what she wanted but what was "optimal". Wool was more expensive but lasted twice as long as linen. So she had to unobtrusively grit her teeth and agree with Shena's choice. The "tarred one" was quick and unmistakable, right by the eye.

They began with long towels, from which they knitted travel "panties," similar to the Japanese-style loincloths that had so surprised the girl the year before. Pants... that's what Lena hadn't thought of, being used to dresses. Looking at the wide pants with bone oil impregnation, the girl chuckled softly. The fact was that pants were expensive, considerably more expensive than ordinary stockings, and had long since been considered a strictly male accessory in campaigns or war. Therefore, the traditional style required an obligatory codpiece, also for women engaged in men's work. On pants, the codpiece was usually replaced by a flap with frequent small buttons, but it still looked more than unambiguous. One could even say, defiantly, taking into account that local clothes hardly knew any pockets, so the codpiece was used as a purse and generally as a bag for small things, stuffing it to the limit.

Shena looked at her companion with an appraising look. Then at the counter. Then back to Elena. The vendor was squinting contentedly, anticipating a short but intense bargain, without which, as you know, a sale is only half the fun. He was dressed in radical island-style trousers meant to demonstrate wealth and affluence. The island pants were a "tube" suspended from the waist with ties and extra stitching in the middle. The result was neither a skirt with cases for the legs nor pants with sewn-together pant legs. To walk normally, it was necessary to make the trousers as wide as possible, spending a lot of material and thus proving the wealth of the owner.

At last, Shena made her choice. She wondered if she should add booties, but the weather was not conducive to that. The burlap covers were more suitable for cold weather. It would have to do. The purse was lightened by a few more "chips," and the women went on their way.

The leather vests were of no use to Elena, though they suggested some kind of primitive medic's off-load. Later, in the future. But the corset had to be taken, even the men here often wore them - to protect the abdomen and strengthen the lower back in case of carrying heavy loads. At first, the girl wanted to refuse the thing, which cost as much as half a pair of pants, but then she remembered that under the terms of the contract, she would carry all her equipment herself. And changed her mind. Her back would be safer.

The fortune-teller tried to grab her by the hem, mousing over an old, greasy book and promising to roll out the dice for the pretty girl. As he did so, he repeated rapidly in a shorthand manner, without pause:

"Shoe, rumen, dish, plate, dark yellow, cuckoo, award, horn!"

Three-dice divination was very common. Each facet and each combination had its name, so the ability to quickly list them was considered a sign of the great skill of the interpreter. Lena wanted to chase the cheat away, but Shena got there first. The fortune-teller received a swift, precise kick just below the kneecap and, with a thin howl, got away. The green-eyed Valkyrie, for some reason, disliked fortune tellers. Well, they, in turn, took the blows as a normal consequence of professional risk

A travel belt, the simplest with no embellishments, no bling, and a buckle of bent iron rod. But it was sturdy and had three small "pouches" for a camp spoon, a folding knife, and a flintlock. A tent-like cape and a wide-brimmed felt hat in case of the "evil sun." In spring, the chance of getting caught in a flash is minimal, but still...

Sheena hesitated for a moment over the counter, where there were goggles - combat goggles, with yellowish contrasting glasses, and bone goggles, with slits to protect the eyes from the stinging rays. But she passed, the prices biting. But a little farther away, she and Lena chose a thick and wide shawl that could be tied like a shemagh, leaving a narrow slit for vision.

At last, the purse was almost empty. Only a couple of lonely chips occasionally clattered inside with a mournful clatter. Lena lost track of how many new clothes she would have to try on today. The green-eyed woman also promised to show how to stow her traveling kit in a sort of "ponjaga". And in general, they would all spend the night not at home but according to tradition - together in the barn with a horse and cart. In order to go out in the dark, without waiting for anyone and without risking broken legs and stomachs punctured in the fight on the eve.

This attitude toward training was also new to Elena. Santelli did not think to clarify whether the brigade healer on a one-time contract possessed any camping skills. From his point of view, the agreement meant understanding all the risks and agreeing to them. And the brigadier shifted other worries on Shena's shoulders.

After a bit more thought, the lancer bought an ordinary sling for a penny. The simplest, made of woven grass ropes. And she said there are plenty of stones everywhere so the healer could train all the way. The sling was supplemented with a long linen cord, a necessary and useful thing. It could be used as a rope, a kindling for the fire, a drying rack for wrappings, and so on.

At this point, the list for Elena ended, but the lancewoman was going to buy something for herself and then proceed to the gathering of the mentee and get acquainted with the mysterious "ponjaga." So both women, as Gramps would say, in "vigorous trot" proceeded to the weapons dealers. The gloomy, businesslike armorer turned his attention away from the wet clay mold in which he was using a long narrow spoon to mold simple pewter figures. Without further ado, he sold a broad strip of leather with undergarments. It was a budget version of a gorget, which was laced to the jacket in the area of the trapezius, and to it, in turn, were attached shoulder straps. After hesitating, the lancer added to the gorget gloves, sewn on the back of the hand flat rings like a chain mail. For armor and gloves, Valkyrie already paid for her own purse with a ringing coin.

That left the knife-maker. Sheena did not pay him anything; it seemed that there was some old arrangement between them. The spearwoman didn't even look at the merchandise on display and exchanged a few brief words with the craftsman. He nodded and took out a bundle from a simple wooden box. He held it in his outstretched hands as if to show its weight. With his usual dexterity, he unwrapped the rough cloth and held out a brand-new cleaver to Shena, hilted forward.

It was an excellent weapon, she must say. Lena was not an expert blacksmith, but she appreciated it. The cleaver was of the usual Gate style, but it was very elaborate and rich. A long strip of metal glinted in the dim spring sunlight on one end with polished steel, and on the other was a corkscrew that curved up and back toward the blunted heel of the blade, forming a brace to protect the hand. The wooden hilt of the two side pads, on the other hand, was nobly darkened, showing the quality of impregnation of linseed oil. The craftsman additionally worked the hilt with a chisel, making frequent oblique grooves on it so the hand would not slip.

She put the sack with the gorget and gloves on top of the daggers on the counter. She stepped back a few paces to avoid hitting anyone, swung her weapon to try it out, and caught the sunbeam on her blade, letting it fly into Lena's eyes. She made a couple of simple defenses and then a downward thrust. The lancer's face touched a smile, a very rare guest for her, which, nevertheless, visited the dark-haired woman for the second day in a row. It was as if that smile had taken Shena off ten years at once. And Lena, too, felt the corners of her eyes creep up and back by themselves. She and the lancer looked as if she were the same age as she was now, so old was Shena from her eternal frown and suspicious, frowning gaze.

The green-eyed woman swung her cleaver once more, and Elena shuddered, clasping her hands together on her stomach. Her heart raced, her palms sweating. She realized only now that she remembered the weapon. She'd never seen it before - and yet she distinctly remembered the leaf-shaped blade, longer and lighter than usual, with the corkscrew strap and the dark brown pads.

In Shena's hands, the sword from the nightmare of the battle in the cave split the air.

* * *

Without his sword, Charley felt... uncomfortable. Certainly, he was not one of the legendary berserkers of the past, who even slept with their blades in their arms and, when separated from their weapons for an hour, drenched them in their blood. And yet, stripped of his usual weight on his belt or behind his back, he was the least bit nervous.

Brether took his time drinking wine, the lightest. Pink and slightly sweetened. The soldier's mood was completely within the short phrase "we live alone, burn dishes, trash the pub!", which (that is the wording) denied the very idea of economy. Here, in the far corner of the Heterion, the local brothel that combined several faces at once, from tavern to arsenal, it seemed to Charley that he was going nowhere. And beyond the walls of that venerable establishment lay the City, of which the brether had told Hel so eloquently the day before.

Of course, things were quite different... The place was very ordinary, though very neat. And instead of the City, it was a little town with the pathos of the name "Gate". On the other hand, the wine is good, the place is clean enough, and at the top, there is...

Maitre heard the footsteps beforehand when the possible adversary had just entered. The brether's habitual ear, in parallel with his consciousness, filtered all the noises around like a cloth sieve, and when the overall complex rhythm shook a little, the brether carefully set the glass and checked whether the dagger came out of its sheath easily. And the hammer was on the table as it was, habitually, with the hilt under his left hand. The local law-enforcers were literally mesmerized by the sight of the sword and categorically asked to surrender it to a special weapons chest. But they agreed to turn a blind eye to the clave without question. It always amused Charley that people (with few exceptions) focused all their attention on the blade, seeing the saddle hammer as not so much a frivolous weapon ... rather unsuitable for a quick foot fight in the street or even more so in the house.

The guest walked softly, like a bear, but even the carpets (which were worn but still had some fur) could not hide his footsteps from the sophisticated ear. A silence preceded the footsteps and the silence that greeted the visitor. Charley grinned faintly and slightly ironically. Truly, fate can only be outrun, and not for long. His guest gestured with determination to the curtains, and the brass rings swished up the wooden pole.

For a couple of moments, the fighters stared at each other in silence, and the silence between them seemed like it could have been cut with a saw. An ordinary knife would not have done.

"My respects," Ranyan finally said. "Would you mind if I broke your seclusion for a while?"

"Charley measured the dignity of what he said on the scale and found the dark-haired fighter to be very polite. Just enough not to appear to be begging, but at the same time not to give rise to a challenge."

"I would be honored," the gray-haired brether replied in a traditional and noncommittal way. Charley had heard of the number one local routier and had a good idea why he might be here. But he preferred to wait for developments rather than guess.

Ranyan sat down without having to beg. He placed his thin-gloved hands demonstratively, palms down on the octagonal table, just as Santelli had done a few days earlier. Routier showed he wasn't here for a fight. But, of course, Charley didn't believe him since he'd used the same trick many times before. A brether at that level didn't care whether his hand was on the table, on the hilt, or in the as... somewhere else. He knew at a glance that his opponent was at least an equal.

"I am listening with all my attention," the gray-haired fighter hurried things along a bit.

"I wanted to pay my respects to my colleague," Ranyan smiled modestly. His gaze, however, remained impenetrably cold and judgmental. "And to satisfy idle curiosity. People don't often come here... ...not many of us."

"Men of the blade are everywhere," Charley diplomatically evaded the answer.

"That's right," Ranyan agreed, tilting his head slightly. The long dark strands slid down his collar, framing his narrow, pale face, marked with a stern mustache and beard, like a painter's charcoal canvas.

"But, unfortunately, there are too few activities here for them worthy of our skill," Ranyan did not pull the pig by the ears; he stated the point immediately and clearly. Without crossing the line of politeness. However, he came close to it.

Charley twitched his mustache, contemplating what he'd expected to hear. Not explicitly, but more than explicitly, "What are you doing here, and do you intend to take my job?"

Twenty or thirty years ago, that would have been enough to summon the dark-eyed man to the backyard to watch the sunset together. Or offer to answer for the impertinent innuendo right here. But a quarter of a century is a long time, during which time even the dumbest fighter usually gains the understanding that men are mortal, healed wounds still hurt, treatment is expensive, and words are cheaper than a fight. Up to a certain point, of course.

Ranyan certainly wasn't looking for a fight, and Charley, for his part, saw no reason to escalate. He had to come up with an answer that would allay one brether's suspicions without damaging the other's honor. Charly stroked his long mustache with his right hand, pretending to be absorbed in the act. Ranyan, well aware of the ambiguity of the situation, waited patiently.

For a moment, Charley imagined how it might happen...

A hammer blow, very fast, right on the temple. Most likely, the black fighter would not have even tried to parry but immediately leaned back with a stool on a twisted leg with a tripod, in the fashion of the capital ten years ago. Ranyan's cloak was very short, barely reaching his waist, and held, it seemed, literally on a cord that could be torn by the movement of his shoulders. Just in case, so as not to lose a moment by getting tangled up in his clothes. Without touching the mossy carpet, the black man would have already pulled out his knives, short but powerful enough, with developed half-guards. And Charley would have to take a moment to throw back the table, separating the opponents. The octagon, though saloon-like, is not made of parchment. This means that Ranyan will face the second attack on his feet and armed with weapons. So will Charley himself, who in turn will draw a dagger.

It would be interesting... Decidedly interesting.

I wander. I'm not looking for helpers or work for a man of "grande art," Charley said slowly, choosing his words carefully. He wondered if there was anything else he could add and decided to stop there for now. That's enough for a smart man.

But Ranyan seemed to find the answer too general, too vague. Routier felt as if something was depressing, so much so that it demanded clarification at all costs.

"You shook hands with the "tar men" brigadier," the dark-haired man said with a frown, either inquiring or stating.

"Not yet," Charley clarified outwardly quite benignly. "Perhaps we'll shake on it tomorrow morning. I haven't made up my mind yet."

"Santelli has a decent reputation. People speak well of him," Ranyan remarked neutrally. "But ..."

"But?" Charley repeated, giving the short word a distinctly questioning meaning. The moment of truth seemed to be at hand.

The usual noise of the joint, which had subsided a little with the arrival of the routier, was gaining strength again. The glass clinked, and the liquor gurgled. The smell of fortified beer mingled with the spicy aroma of not-bad wine, and over the top of the whole range nourished a very light, sour, and ethereal essence of elixir. This subtle, barely perceptible scent made Charley uncomfortable. The anticipation seemed to itself awaken the tears in old wounds. And not old ones, either.

"But I would say that a man of your talents could get a lot more. And if you haven't already sealed the deal with a handshake..."

Ranyan ended the sentence with a meaningful pause, but the meaning was crystal clear. Rutier was not only probing the stranger for competition but also offered to hire him. And Charley repeated what he had said recently to Santélli:

"I have no desire to kill living people again. Unless there is a very good reason for it. I'm not looking for a job worthy of men of the blade. For personal reasons."

Now the game had shifted to the fighter in black, depending on how Ranyan interpreted the answer. And what was said could be understood in two ways, either as the utmost frankness between members of the same shop or as the floridly suggested: "fuck off!" Ranyan's fingers tapped lightly on the table. And suddenly, the gaze of the impenetrable dark eyes trembled. Not from fear, not from excitement. Something else, as if from memory... or recognition. It was as if the mercenary's memory was a jigsaw puzzle.

"The wind carries different words..." Routier came in unexpectedly from afar. "And different stories."

Charley raised an eyebrow politely, showing uncomplicated interest.

"I heard a story... about a very strong fencer," Ranyan recalled thoughtfully as if he were telling a tale. And he repeated. "A very strong one... Who once hung his sword on the wall, deciding to leave the venerable community. Which he was entitled to do. And also had good reasons for that decision."

"It happens," Charley said, carefully controlling his voice.

"Yes. But then it happened that one Bonom owed a Brether. Or maybe he didn't... different things were said. But, one way or another, the Brether decided that the aristocrat owed him because he had stolen. And since it was not property, money, or even honor that had been stolen, the fencer removed his sword from the wall. The same sword he hadn't touched in years."

"Brether must be dead," Charley indicated with a shrug, barely perceptible. "The Grande Art requires daily practice."

"Yes, that's right," Ranyan agreed. "But that man was too good. And he was owed too much. He recovered the debt in excess. They said the brether killed nineteen men that night."

"That's a lot. Truly, he was a great fencer," Charley said, a slight, indifferent smile freezing over his face. "How long ago did that happen?"

"Not really. Less than a year ago.

"And then what happened?"

"He's gone," Ranyan shrugged slightly. "And that's reasonable. Otherwise, he would have been wheeled. It was said that the brether later died of his wounds."

"I'm sure it was," the gray-haired fighter ruled. "By the way..." Charley stroked his mustache again. "I remembered the story, too. And what's interesting is that it's also about a fencer with a troubled fate. Would you like to hear it?

"That would be interesting."

"Unfortunately, I'm a bad storyteller," Charley apologized in advance. "So, there once was a brether... Young enough, though, he couldn't be called a boy. He'd earned a fraternity charter but had no teaching license. But he had his gym in a town whose name I forget. Formally, this worthy man did not teach fencing but sold the services of a partner for training. That is, only helped experienced warriors to improve their skills a little bit in equal training duels. A dubious caveat, but he was careful, selected his students carefully, and paid all his taxes faithfully, so there were no complaints."

Ranyan folded his hands, fist in the fist, and pressed his lips together into two pale strands.

"And then politics tragically intervenes in our story..." Charly paused dramatically. "The fact is that the wife of the local Ovenjulegur..."

"That's enough," Ranyan cut him off. "I'm sorry, I've heard that story before."

"As you wish."

They sat in silence for half a minute, looking at each other sideways.

"Well, the wind brings different tales," Ranyan finally concluded. "About different ... fabulous and non-existent, and therefore legendary people."

"Yes," Charley agreed. "Let's not remember them. Let the tales remain tales."

Ranyan rose lightly and tightened his gloves, a gesture more to signify another pause than one dictated by an urgent need.

"I've heard everything I wanted to hear," Routier muttered with some ceremoniousness. "I respect your intentions, and Santelli is a good brigadier. But still, if you change your mind... in time ..."

"I know where to find you," Charley finished.

Ranyan nodded, bowed his head in a quarter bow, and walked out without turning around. The short cloak fluttered over his shoulders like the wings of an angry bird.

Upstairs, in a separate "suite," that is, a room with plenty of light curtains and a single bed with a scattering of pillows, Charleigh collapsed on the featherbed without taking off his boots. He lay there, thinking. He chuckled wryly, remembering the maid's hurt face when she'd realized the client wanted a room until morning, the awakening before the third quarter of the moon, the vial of Elixir... and nothing else. The bottle of amber liquid, however, was brought without question, and the glass of water to it was very proper, that is, really cold. No ice, but so that a test sip immediately made his teeth clench. It seems that the well here is deep. Such water comes only from the very heart of the earth.

Charley raked more small pillows under his head. He put the hammer down, closed his eyes, and pondered.

Hel explained what she'd said about the Profit in a sensible way. She explained it in a somewhat confusing way, but it was very clever, and she also dispelled some legends that in the outside world seemed to be the iron truth.

... The underworld of the Wastelands was far more terrifying than anything the surface had promised. The Cataclysm had cracked the stone with many cracks, cut through passages and tunnels, and opened previously nonexistent caves of all kinds, from tiny holes to grandiose halls that never knew light. And populated them with creepy creatures, distorted, otherworldly, and deadly. But it also revealed old treasures, shrines, and tombs of long ago, hidden from the sun at a time when the forgotten forerunner of the Old Empire was young and the world was not ruled by humans.

There was death waiting underground. And then there were treasures. Silver, gold, magical artifacts.

But that was not all. The pioneers, who ventured down, quickly realized that, except for the rare "nodal points," the underworld could not be mapped because it was constantly changing. The ground, mutilated by the magical flash, flowed like sand under the pressure of water. The magical world of the dungeons transmuted as if the very space beneath the gray plain of the Wasteland were stirring. One could not go back and gather what had been missed before. But it was always possible to stumble upon something new. A passageway that opened in the strongest stone. A cave that hadn't been here a month ago. And new treasure. Profit - always with a capital letter only, like a new deity of a new world.

So people began to return to the Wastelands, gathering into gangs and then into organized brigades with their charters and rules. Those who turned their backs on church prohibitions and risked their lives going down by the light of tarred torches and unreliable magical lamps. The vast majority of them died a horrible death. Some didn't make it to the top in time and fell under another dungeon metamorphosis, a fate far worse than death. And those few who escaped all threats and were lucky became very rich people.

As time went on. Generations of "tarred ones" discovered that the beasts could also be useful. They extracted extracts and elixirs from individual organs and glands. The "tarred ones" mastered more and more new trades, divided by occupation, and even organized hunts for the aristocrats who had grown bored with their former non-dangerous prey.

So a new order and a new equilibrium were formed. People came out of the Kingdoms, and a not very wide but steady stream of Profit flowed back. In recent years, though, the balance has been upset. Underground gold was becoming less and less plentiful as if the treasure trove of death were at last running low. But people, on the contrary, were becoming more numerous. Those, who sought not riches but a new life, a better and more comfortable life.

Life was changing not only in the wasteland. The Church of the Pantocrator clenched its hand ever tighter, demanding unconditional worship and recognition of all the attributes of the Creator. The Kingdoms, which had recovered from the catastrophe of long ago, squeezed their subjects more and more firmly with taxes and duties. The land was becoming more expensive, but labor was becoming cheaper. It was no longer work that sought a man, as in earlier times, but man was on the prowl in search of some kind of livelihood. And for those who were already desperate for a place in the world of kingdoms, there was a last opportunity. For on the Wastelands, there was much danger but also much free land and opportunity for the brave man. And there were few laws and no regard for matters of faith.

Before, dozens of people a year came to the desert lands. Now there are hundreds. Apparently, soon thousands of hungry and desperate would begin to make their way through the mountain passages. By now, the "tar men" were already killing more of each other than they were killing subterranean fouls. And then... Then it would only get worse.

Santelli was well aware of that. The brigadier, by all accounts, appeared to be very clever and thought far ahead. His suggestion deserved the closest attention. But it wasn't easy for Charley to accept that his search for the wildest, most forgotten corner of the Ecumene had brought him... here. To a world literally teeming with conflict and life. To new hires and new battles. So the brether said neither yes nor no to the brigadier, postponing a decision. And Santelli, for his part, made it abundantly clear - his offer is valid until the first hour before dawn the next day. As soon as the moon bends to the last quarter of the sky, it will be considered withdrawn, and the brigade will be on its way. With or without a new fighter.

Maitre grinned faintly. The lines from his early adolescence came to mind:

The mastery of arms comforts pain, sorrows, and afflictions, gives perfect judgment, drives away melancholy and evil vanity, and gives a man perfect breath, health, and long life. In addition, it is the friendliest and most comfortable companion, and when a man is alone, having only his weapon with him, it relieves all fears.[1]

Charley opened his eyes. His head hurt a bit, especially above the right ear, where the mace had struck twenty years ago. The helmet had saved his life, but it didn't protect him from the crack in his skull that had been a regular reminder ever since. Every broken bone, every scar ached. Every notch that the life of a professional fighter, who had studied the high art of death to perfection and had been selling his skills on the streets of the City for years, ached.

And his heart ached, too. The fire of anguish flared up in Maitre's chest again, and no medicine could comfort it, for you cannot cure what is not wounded by sharp steel.

Charley sighed and pulled a bottle of Hel's potion from his belt pouch. What did the healer say? Five drops? Yes, that's right. Five drops. Dissolve it in warm water and drink it on an empty stomach after waking from narcotic forgetfulness. Well, the water will warm itself, and the stomach empty. And if he, the master of the blade wakes up alive, let's consider Pantocrator himself pointing the way.

Charley squeezed his eyes shut, exhaled sharply, and poured the amber contents of the vial down his throat. Immediately he chugged it down, feeling the icy water roll into his stomach, quenching the fierce burning of the drug. Charley shuddered, stretched out on the bed, feeling the smooth barrel of the glass vial with his fingers, which, Hel believed, promised him a calmer morning.

It was bad, very bad. As usual. Then it got easier. Same as usual. The pain crawled away from the wounds and took out its poisonous thorns. But most importantly, his heart didn't hurt anymore.

For some time...

* * *

They were finally getting ready by sundown. Elena's head was spinning from the need to remember all the new possessions and how to handle them. As an apprentice at the Apothecary, the girl owned, in essence, clothes and a meager set of household implements. Everything else, from a bed to a work knife, was put at the apprentice's disposal by Matrice.

Now, if you don't count the "Vietnamese footlocker," Lena owned an extensive list that included, say, two hats, one for camping and one to sleep in. A felt rug, a blanket, a brand-new spoon in the cover, and even a hood combined with a pelerine collar - a very handy thing that could be worn in several ways, from a scarf-snood to a hat with a veil. There was very little left to do - collect it all, distributing it in a container. The container was one large leather sack for transport in a wagon, similar to a duffel bag with one strap. One smaller bag made of burlap, sewn at both ends, but with a slot in the middle - through which the container was filled with luggage and then carried as a shoulder carry bag - "mixbag." And lastly, the very same "ponjaga." Lena had seen a similar device before. Only she did not know that it was called that.

It was an "A" shaped wooden frame with two rope straps extending from the top to the base. Tied to the frame were tightly wrapped blankets, quilts, and other clothing, making a fairly effective assault backpack. Elena got not the most "advanced" design, but a decent one, made of a willow trunk bent over steam and forming a brace with a crossbar at the bottom.

After watching Elena and her awkward attempts to "craft" a travel kit, Shena sighed heavily and went to work herself, showing each stage not even as a child but rather as a retard. In fact, that must have been how Lena looked from the "tar" point of view - a grown man who can't even build a normal "roll-up". In other circumstances, Lena might have been offended, but she was held back by a whole bunch of reasons, from realizing that Shena had a point to wondering what kind of fly had bitten the lancewoman. The companion seemed as friendly as could be. This was most likely due to instructions from Santelli, who understood that the new medic had to be spared. Still, it was surprising. Lena was too accustomed to the perpetually frowning and dissatisfied image of Shena.

She quickly and deftly separated the items according to their purpose and frequency of use. Then she put everything in the bags and put the ponjaga aside, as it was useless at this stage. The turn of the frame would come when the brigade would leave the cart with the horse in a secluded place and go directly "to work," carrying only the essentials on their shoulders. And then, if the loot turns out to be large so the cart and horse will have to be freed.

At that moment, Lena got a little chill. Up to now, the upcoming event had been a fiction to her, an ephemeral adventure. An opportunity to experience something new in the midst of the hard and, at the same time, endlessly monotonous life of an apothecary's apprentice and to change her life for the better. The mundane, offhand remark about the "case" that the lancewoman had thrown about immediately brought to mind the many, many "tarred ones" that had ended up on Matrice's desk in a state from "bad" to "more terrible than awful."

I wanted to go back to the way things were before, with a predictable life, a warm cat at her side, and the protection of Matrice. With a small but regular paycheck for hard work, but not too dangerous.

An unexpected smack on the forehead snapped Elena out of her gloomy stupor. Shena was the one who noticed that her ward had drifted off in thought and brought her back in the simplest way possible: with a flick.

"Don't yawn!" ordered Shena sternly. "Look. Or do it yourself."

Mr. Cat, who had been watching the process from a corner, showed his fangs in a good-natured yawn. He'd gotten a piece of real pork today, not a rat, so he was beaming with contentment and peacefulness.

Looking straight into green eyes that sparkled with anger, Lena returned to the world of notions and travel blankets.

* * *

"Well ... It's time to hit the sack, I guess," Santelli avoided meeting his gaze with Matrice. As usual, before he went out on the road, he felt as if he were "not from here." It was as if an invisible veil separated the foreman from the world of the living in the Gate.

"Don't see me off in the morning," finished the foreman, adjusting the axe behind his belt.

"No way," the pharmacist snorted. She was a bit feigned, too, a little fake. As if she really wanted to say something to her business partner, but...

There's always a "but," thought the foreman.

"Everything seems to have been discussed," he said rather to himself, going over the details of their overall plan in his mind, like a string of beads on a silk thread. "Didn't miss a thing."

Matrice had a lot to say to him. And she wanted to tell him. That the whole plan was sewn "on a living thread," so there was no further to go. That this time there were too many irreplaceable people in the brigade who could not be lost. That the brether is unlikely to cope, and Hel must be watched, lest she stabs herself on the way from a general ineptitude to life. That the idea of looting a cursed house on the moors, from which few have returned alive and none with profit, is so unfortunate...

The pharmacist said nothing. Because in the main, Santeli was right as the Prophet, who interpreted the Messenger's visions - only risk brings victory. Santelli no longer wanted to be a foreman, and Matrisa was burdened by the life of a pharmacist. They both believed they now deserved better. And so it was time for the Big Risk. And each of the partners would have to do everything that had been agreed beforehand.

"When I come back..." Santelli was silent. "When I come back..." he repeated, gathering his resolve.

"Come back. It will be a long journey."

"When I come back," the foreman repeated for the third time. He smoothed the pigtails over his temples, braided so as not to block his view and give some protection from the sliding blows to his face.

"Marry me."

"What...?" Matrice was sure that after the experience of living in the wastelands, nothing else would surprise her. But Santeli did, and in just two words.

"What am I not good at?" the brigadier asked in all seriousness.

"Well ... not bad... but ..." the apothecary tried somehow to formalize her intuitive rejection of the idea, but each point, upon thoughtful consideration, was at least shaky.

"I don't love you," Matrice finally said, and she cringed with embarrassment at how ridiculous it sounded. A battle-hardened veteran might as well have coyly admitted that he was afraid of mice and boogieman in the closet.

"Me too," the foreman frankly admitted. "But is that a hindrance to an honest business partnership? I know how to beat people, and you know how to count money. Sounds like a great alliance to me."

"But you..." The apothecary's hands fluttered, unable to succinctly and briefly express the basic technical problem. What, am I supposed to be faithful to you my whole life?"

"Yeah, I don't like women, so what?" smirked the foreman, clearly waiting for that counterargument. "You can have a herd of lovers. As long as the heir is mine. And that's all solvable."

"Perhaps so..." diplomatically and indefinitely stretched out Matrice.

"Let's settle with the house and the painting," the foreman reasoned aloud. "Then the castle. We'll get rich. And then, maybe, we'll get a nobler for the phoenixes. It's easier for a married couple to join the nobility than a single one. Modestly, of course, they will not register us as counts. But we can bow less often, and my back hurts from bowing."

Matrice, still somewhat confused, smoothed the sleeves of the simple gray dress with the dark blue insert on the chest. She adjusted the already perfectly fitting belt, a thin one with a long, loose end. Finally, she made up her mind to do something and looked openly into the eyes of her possible future husband.

"Come back from Grey," said the apothecary. "Alive, at least, and in one piece. Then we'll talk."

She kept silent for a while and then added, more quietly and thoughtfully:

"My back hasn't gotten any stronger over the years, either. But if you can't handle it, there's nothing to discuss."

"You'll have something to do, too," reminded Santelli.

"So we'll work together," Matrice summed up.

* * *
 
Part III. "Two Halves of One Coin," Chapter 17. "Stones in the Steppe"
Part III. "Two Halves of One Coin," Chapter 17. "Stones in the Steppe"

* * *

Traditionally, the brigade spent the last night before the camping trip in a separate barn, with all its equipment, next to the cart and horse. So that no one would get drunk, break a leg, or cut himself to death in the final hours. The stable barn, of course, belonged to Matrice. Horse Number Four was almost indistinguishable from Number Three; the cart was new, better, and lighter than the one Elena remembered.

For the first time in the past year, the girl saw the entire Santeli crew assembled. A new team because the maimed Codure, according to stories, quickly drank himself to death and froze to death in the first winter month. And Vial died a little later, defending the cart alongside Kai from "greedy" marauders. The brigade replaced its losses with two new men. Their names were Zilber and Einar, free mercenaries, not routiers. Elena had heard of them but had not yet seen them in person. Now she had.

Zilber was not too tall, fat, and carefully groomed with neat red sideburns. His weapons were a short sword, like a Roman gladius, and a bow. Zilber shot peculiarly with a full-length sawn reed pipe with a noose. The noose was hooked on the fingers of the pulling hand, and the arrow was inserted into the reed chute and launched like a crossbow bolt on a stock with a guide groove. Such a method required more time to "reload", but it was believed that marksmanship improved markedly. In addition, it was possible to use arrows known to be shorter and correspondingly lighter than usual, sending them to a greater range.

Einar was a typical infantryman with a sword like Zilber's and a large round shield. He was tall, stout, heavy-featured, had a wicked stare, and shaved his hair and beard to the bristles of a pig. His right eye was perpetually squinted, while the other was wide open and never seemed to blink.

The two mercenaries looked nothing alike, but at the same time, they seemed almost like twins. Their gazes (equally wary), stingy movements (as if they were saving every calorie), characteristic swearing, and other little things that seem unnoticeable separately but together draw a comprehensive image. Zilber and Einar clearly read "deserter" on their foreheads, and Lena immediately dubbed them inaudibly but briefly, "brother-soldiers."

At bedtime, Shena showed her companion how to carry the "ponjaga." What could be easier - throwing a wooden frame with ropes on her shoulders? As it turned out, there were a few tricks. The main one was that despite its resemblance to a backpacker's frame, the "ponjaga" was carried differently. Two strong loops were attached to the belt behind the back, and the ends of the lashing frame, which protruded downwards, were hooked there. In this way, the weight of the whole structure was transferred to the belt and legs, while the straps merely held the burden. They could be put on in the usual way, could be thrown on one side like a one-belt backpack, or even do without straps at all, fixing the frame with a pole on the shoulder.

All in all, it was an amazing thing.

She didn't sleep well. She couldn't sleep at all, to be exact. The jitters pounded like a fever, a shiver going somewhere in the middle of her stomach and spreading through her body in waves, carrying waves of unhealthy heat. So much so that Lena was even frightened if she was sick. That would be very, very bad. On the other hand, such a possibility would have freed her from the hike...

The "Loser's Dilemma," as her father once called it. A loser goes to an exam for which he is unprepared, under a great deal of stress. Pulling a question means getting a failing grade. Avoiding the exam on some pretext is also bad, but for a while, the underachiever will experience a delightful relief from the fact that the danger has moved into the future.

Lena wrapped herself in a wool blanket and couldn't get warm. She was almost sinking into a drowsy slumber... But like a swimmer with an excessive supply of air, she could not cross the invisible line beyond which normal sleep begins.

And then she felt really warm for some reason, like in a warm bath, when there was no hurry, no danger ahead... and everything would be okay... ...and everything is going to be fine...

Shena carefully readjusted her blanket, which she used to cover Hel, who was in agony. The spearwoman couldn't sleep either, but Shena always had a bad night's sleep the night before she went out. It was normal and safe. The first day would wear her out properly, the first night of hike would be fine, and then everything would roll along on its own as usual.

Horse number four was crunching the hay as if it felt it would be a good idea to eat its fill. It would not see any more food until its return. Unless the march drags on and the animal has to be fed with pasture, which is a last resort. In the field, sometimes it's better to lose a fighter (not the most useful one, of course) than a horse. No draught animal, it means the cart stands. And if it managed to be loaded with some Profit...

A single candle burned in a stone chalice by the gate, which was covered with a broad plank. In the dim light, the red-haired healer's face seemed very smooth and rejuvenated. Hel was not old as it was, but now she looked like a girl a couple of years away from marriage. She sighed softly, and once again rolled in her mind, like a pebble in a river stream, the long-standing riddle of who Hel was...

Now, as the only one awake in the barn, alone with herself, Shena confessed that... No, that would have been too drastic, too bold, and direct. She only thought that perhaps, had things turned out differently, Hel might have appealed to her as a sympathetic person in her own way, not the worst person in the world. Sometimes surprisingly cold-blooded harshness, like the removal of a rotten leg. And sometimes striking with a strange, incongruous naivety. Not stupidity, not disconnected from life, but just - naivety. As if Hel had come to Wasteland from some other place much kinder and brighter. From a palace, a combat tower, or at least a well-to-do family, where the family was lucky to have a loving father and the children did not encounter everyday cruelty when they were just learning to walk.

These thoughts made Shena bitter and painful. Because her thoughts awakened memories, and her memory stabbed her with sharp knives, despite the years that had passed. The mercenary looked at the medicine woman with unconcealed anger. Now as the embodiment of all that was hateful to Shena.

The filthy aristocrat...

She wanted to rip the blankets off Hel, both hers and her own, and then chase the redheaded beast around the wagon, stabbing her with the dagger to keep her spirits up. Just like that, to let the anger find its way out before it scorched her soul completely.

The damned noble. One like her, surely one like the others. Otherwise, how would she know what "pàtrean" is...

Hel moved in her sleep. A reddish lock of hair fell to her cheek and covered her nose. In the dim light, her hair seemed as dark as copper blackened by time. She grunted absently, wrinkling her nose and twitching her nose. Shena turned away. She closed her eyes as if she could hide from the black memories.

They got up after dark. Without much of a signal, somehow, one by one, everyone got up and got ready. The first day was very important. They had to use every minute of daylight time to get as far away from the town as possible. This was good for the campaign, and it took the brigade out of the range of the stupid "greeders" who robbed everyone on the approaches to the Gate until they lay down under the swords of the "tar" or routiers, hired by the best men of the city.

Lena, once more, for the last time, stacked the travel bag herself the right way. That is, she first inserted the rolled-up felt mat into the tube, then tamped down the blanket. On top of it, spare clothes, socks, a sleeping cap, and all the other small things except those that fit into the belt pouches and the flip-bag. She covered the top with a wooden bowl and laced it up. Sheena looked critically at the result and pursed her lips but found the result conditionally acceptable.

Maitre Charley came in. The brether looked as if the devils of all the Wastelands had been riding him since sundown. The brether's bloodshot eyes stared out at the world with a look of grave anger, revealing his master's powerful narcotic hangover. But Charley was awake, and his hands were not trembling, which led Lena to assume he'd taken advantage of her gift. Without further ado, the Brether struck a bargain with the brigadier. Einar and Zilber squinted at the brether but refrained from outward expressions of displeasure. The swordsman put his hand to the hilt of his sword but pretended not to notice the slanting glances. Charley hesitated for a moment and slid his saber behind his back, the clave on his left side to his right and the dagger on the other hand to his left. As if he was preparing to flail at the lancers or simply didn't want the scabbard to pound at his feet on the long journey.

Taking advantage of the moment, Santelli once again briefly stipulated the terms of the venture. Because, unlike normal trips, this one was planned in a special way and paid for in a specific way.

As a rule, with few exceptions, the Profit was not divided at once, in kind, but was handed over to resellers in Gates or other towns, of which (settlements) there were five. And the proceeds were divided into shares, which were distributed in an agreed order - two each to the foreman, alchemist, and healer, plus personal bonuses for various complications. The "tarred man" could take something of the loot, but only what he needed for work or health reasons, and with the approval of all his colleagues. For example, most of Biso's equipment was obtained in this way, as cave trophies. And Shena took her alhspice from the corpse of an undead.

This time Santelli resorted to a different, rarer rule. In fact, he did not assemble a brigade but hired each fighter individually and only for one campaign. The brigade members had no claim to Profit, but the brigadier was obliged to pay a generous reward upon their return, regardless of the outcome of the campaign. And the money was reserved in advance and deposited with Matrice as a trusted intermediary. So in the wooden box, sealed with sealing wax, rang the money due to Elena, earned in advance. That was, of course, if the girl returned and the brigade did not consider the hired healer to have flagrantly neglected her duties.

Such a statute was usually in force if the brigade went to work on commission, in search of something specific and with above-average danger. The brigadier also had the right not to disclose the purpose of the campaign until the very end, but the pay then also had to be very high to entice the mercenaries with an "offer in the bag." Santelli exercised this right, and Elena was promised (deposited with her) three golden coins, money she had not yet seen here, the monthly salary of a sergeant in armor.

Santelli ended with an honest suggestion for those who hesitated to think again and refuse before they went out the gate. And if anyone comes out, then don't shake and work until they win. The suggestion was accompanied by an eloquent glance in Elena's direction. The girl clenched her teeth and remained silent. In turn, she glanced at Shena and thought she looked almost the same now - slim, trim, wearing normal human shoes instead of rattling wooden hooves and pants with a demonstrative codpiece. Lena quickly pulled her hat, which looked like a pirate's triangle with the brim tied at the top over her head. There was no telling who might turn up on the way out of town, so there was no point in showing off her red hair.

It was as if Santeli was waiting for something, and Lena did not understand what until the sleepy apprentice brought, from the bakery, a basket of freshly baked pies and gingerbread, not simple, but "travel". Such pies were made not so much for the culinary variety as for food preservation. Usually with two fillings (usual vegetable on one side and sweet on the other), with plenty of fat in the dough, they could be kept for several days, with the special skill of baker up to a week. The main thing is to wrap them in a cloth and not to leave them in the sun. Gingerbreads, in general, did not spoil for a month or more due to the abundance of honey in the dough and glaze, which closed all the pores in the crust, sealing the contents tightly and not allowing moisture to evaporate.

"Now it was time to go."

They did not eat breakfast as a group. By tradition, on the first day, everyone stocked themselves with provisions to their liking and chewed on the go. The cauldron allowance did not begin until the evening of the first day. Lena had forgotten all about it and hadn't even stocked up on breadcrumbs, but decided it was no problem. She would somehow make it through the day without food. Dinner would taste better.

"So..." Santeli looked around at his small but quite militant and cheerful troops. He held up a finger and said softly. "Pantocrator is with us. Let's go."

Both deserters responded in sync with upturned palms and outstretched fingers, only two instead of one. Zilber gave a "victoria," Einar a classic punk "goat". Lena had seen this before - they did the same thing at the mention of Ishtan and Erdeg. Santelli, however, paid no attention to this, so religious tolerance prevailed.

When they opened the gate, the predawn damp chill immediately bit her hands and face, trying to get under her hoodie and warm shirt. Lena shivered. Horse Number Four galloped along with the leisurely precision of a metronome. A black shadow flashed to the side and purred briefly. Mr. Cat came up to Lena and looked at her very seriously from below with yellow glowing eyes.

"I have to go," the girl said quietly. "I'll be back."

"Maaaa..." The meowr answered, and Lena shuddered. It sounded so un-cat-like. It was as if a child had stretched out on a single note.

Mr. Cat, meanwhile, jumped easily onto the fencepost that enclosed Matrice's barn, and there curled into a tight ball of short, needle-like hair. The oval pupils followed the small caravan closely. Like two candles lit in the night for lost travelers. The cat sat there until the carriage melted into the night, watching the travelers with unblinking eyes. As if he knew something unknown and inaccessible to people. Maybe it was so. It was not for nothing that meowr were considered sorcerous beasts...

It was dark. One might even say completely dark. The wind from the eastern mountains had brought in clouds, and the huge moon hid behind a heavy, impenetrable canopy. Biso had pulled his hat down and lit a magic lamp so that the brigade stomped onward in a dead bluish light. This was the first time Lena had seen a "moon crystal" in action, and now she understood why the "tarred" people often preferred the usual torches and lamps to them. The crystal gave a lot of light. There was no dispute. But that light was... uncomfortable. Like in old computer games like Half-Life, where they couldn't yet reliably simulate a beam of light, so textures lit up as if by themselves. The light was just unpleasant, it scratched your eyes, but most importantly, it hid the details, hid them in the shadows. Such lighting was good for peace, and it would do for travel, but it could be dangerous in battle.

Lena repeated the alchemist's gesture, pulled her hat tighter, and wondered if she could unbutton the brim, pulling it down like an earflap to protect her from the cold wind. She wanted to jump, to run, maybe even fly. A feeling of unusual lightness and leaping took hold of the healer. It was the effect of the pants and boots. They made Lena feel like an athlete who had been training with weights for a long time and now, finally, got rid of them. It occurred to her that for the sake of that lightness, it was definitely worth the risk. And so be it.

The caravan left the Gate to the northwest, following a wide arc around one of the small lakes that stretched in a chain almost all the way to the ocean.

It was very quiet. It was unbelievably quiet as if the roadside grass caught in its net and muffled all outside sounds. The road ended soon enough, and the horse lurched briskly across the steppe with the horseshoes that had been thoroughly tested the day before. The wheels creaked slightly, from time to time breaking with the crunch dried up over the winter feather grass. Biso, with his magical lantern, sat on the fender, exercising his right of passage - only he and the severely wounded (if any) could ride in the cart. Everyone else walked on their own, protecting the horse from unnecessary strain. Santelli stepped forward, Kai at the back of the march with his blade on his shoulder, and everyone else scattered to the sides of the cart in an uneven, sparse ellipse.

The wind was picking up. According to Lena's inner feeling, the "last quarter of the moon", that is, the hour before dawn, had already come, but the darkness was in no hurry to give way. She still wanted to run and jump, but the girl carefully adapted to the rhythm of her companions, who walked with seeming unhurriedness but without stops and delays.

For a few minutes, the wind turned into a light hurricane, which blew debris into my face, so I had to cover myself with a high collar and sleeves. Even the horse became restless, and the alchemist covered its face with a special mask. Santelli cursed briefly and angrily, thinking that here it was, fatal bad luck. Looks like the brigade was caught in unexpected and unseasonable rain. Which meant the speed of movement would fall by half, maybe more.

But then the wind dropped just as abruptly as it had risen. The moon did peek out from behind the scattered clouds. Biso extinguished the flashlight to conserve the charge. Elena opened her mouth and forgot to close it, stunned by the view.

It was beautiful. But no... "beautiful" is an unfortunate word. "Extraordinary" would probably be the right word. Or even "magical." Because it is physically impossible to see such a landscape on Earth.

The wasteland remained wasteland, that is, dreary steppe, which stretched as far as the eye could reach and even farther. The Gate remained behind the brigade, a lake spread out on the right, and the distant mountains that bordered the plain rose on the left. Everything was usual. But as her father, a long-time amateur photographer, used to say, The main thing is the light! A huge moon, hovering above the horizon line, strictly at the height of its diameter, flooded the plain with a cold blue light, similar to the glow of a magic crystal, but stronger by a million times. The moonlight seemed the complete, utter antithesis of the sunlight as if the cold had taken on an image of its own. It was as if the air had turned to pure ice, illuminating itself. There were no other colors in the universe around us except blue, broken down into countless shades, from near-white to pitch-black.

In the windlessness, the lake calmed down. It was smooth and mirrored, reflecting the moon's double with perfect accuracy but smoothing out the shades a little so that she wanted to come up to the water and scoop a piece of this magical moon.

It was... majestic.

Yes, that's the right definition, the girl thought. A majestic picture of an alien world that cannot be painted and cannot be photographed. One can only see for a few moments until the coming dawn adds a tiny fraction of pale pink to the color palette, blurring the cold perfection with a warm note.

Lena sighed, overwhelmed by the inhuman beauty of what she saw. And the realization that she was so far from home came over her again...

And they moved on.

Nothing happened on the road that needs to be mentioned separately. It was a successful trek by a good brigade that had meticulously assembled on the road. Biso traveled in a cart, weaving a rope of grass fibers, coarse but strong. Because you can never have too much rope, and a penny saved is a penny earned.

The overnight stay was uneventful, but by the next morning, Einar had powerful diarrhea that would not let up for the rest of the day. Helena feared the deserter had been poisoned, but there were no other symptoms. The healer quickly diluted the necessary mixture with hot water. In addition, she gave the patient a chewable root, which has a strong fortifying effect. She also advised him to drink more to replenish the loss of fluid.

Santelli scowled and advised him to go on without his pants, without wasting time taking them off and putting them back on, which was a frustratingly regular procedure. Lena remembered that the first conquistadors in South America had done the same thing. They, suffering in their bellies from an unaccustomed diet, went to battle in nothing but their armor over their undershirts. And supported the brigadier. Einar seemed offended, but he listened, sparing the brigade the choice of stopping the horse time after time or letting his companion fall dangerously behind.

Twice the squad tried to sneak up on the taguars, hoping they would catch the careless one. The first predator got away on his own, disappearing into the grass. The second was frightened away by Zilber's arrow.

They spent the night, as before, without incident. The moon was especially bright, so the alchemist laid the magic crystal under its light until morning, infusing the magic crystal with the energy of the "sun of the dead". Santelli, nervous and angry, calmed down a little, but only a little. He had been waiting for trouble, biting his beard furiously and keeping his hand on his axe. He even slept in his leather armor.

Toward the middle of the second day, the brigade happily avoided very big trouble. They noticed the small black dots circling over the grass like black wasps. Kai recognized the Plain Hornets with his keen eyesight from afar, and the brigade took a solid detour. They spoke in whispers, trying to walk smoothly without sudden movements. The detour cost the company several hours of lost time, but no one would say it was a waste.

After the brigade returned to the former route, Charley asked Lena softly what it all meant. The girl just as softly explained.

The Plains Hornets, aka Wasps of the Wastelands, were one of the most nightmarish creations of the magical transmutation of the animal kingdom. Such a creature could reach the length of an index finger or more. Unlike the Gray Shadows, for example, hornets were not generally aggressive or even predatory (they were, however, happy to eat carrion). The problem was that they lived in colonies in underground nests that were almost invisible from the outside. If you were careless or inattentive when getting too close to a nest, the overgrown wasps would attack you without warning, with the whole nest. A horse was killed by a dozen stings, while a human would suffice for five or even less.

It was also an unfortunate idea to kill a lone hornet, even if accidental. In this case, all the hornet colonies, often within a dozen or so walks, would attack indiscriminately anything that moved across the steppe. The locals thought it was a witch's call; Lena believed it was all about pheromones. Anyway, the only escape was to scatter dried hogweed around and stand motionless until sunset, praying to Pantocrator until the hornets returned to the colony for the night.

Some "tarred men" extracted the winged nastiness with various magical tricks, and this commodity was extremely valuable. The venom of black wasps was stored for a long time, and jewelers readily bought it for engraving on metal. But despite all the tricks, the trade was so dangerous that at most twenty people in all the Wastelands were engaged in it.

After pondering what he heard, the brether remarked that, indeed, the wonders of this land are far more miraculous than all the tales are told about it beyond the mountains, in the Kingdoms. Elena agreed.

The journey continued.

As she progressed, Lena noticed something strange. The Wasteland outside the settled areas was deserted and desolate, with only the occasional remnants of houses and stone buildings that had been decaying in their course for centuries. But here and there - not to say often, but not completely rare - there were stone pyramids. Built without any plan or standard, some were barely waist-high, and others were symbolic, literally made of the first dozen stones that came along. Lena asked Shena what they meant. The spearwoman was silent for a long time, so much so that Lena had given up waiting for an answer. Finally, however, she frowned:

"Cenotaphs."

"What?"

"Commemorative graves without bodies," Shena said even more glumly. "When there's nothing to burn or bury. Or the "tar man" didn't have time to get out and got changed. In memory of him, the comrades lay down stones."

"So..." Lena stumbled, imagining how many people had come here, to these desolate lands, in the past centuries, in search of a better life. And how many had perished in obscurity, leaving no memory behind. Only handfuls of stones in the gray steppe under the dim sun and the dead moon...

"Yes," said Shena, and in her voice was... fear not fear, but obvious bitterness. "Each cenotaph is a person who came here and stayed here forever...'"

The tone of the lance-woman completely discouraged Lena from asking any more questions, especially since there was no reason to ask anymore.

By the evening of the third day, the surrounding landscape began to change, becoming perceptibly "swampy." More grass, more greenery of an unpleasant dirty green-brown color. Puddles appeared, seemingly perennial, judging by the vegetation around them. Occasionally wet earth smacked beneath.

Toward sunset, when they were supposed to stop and set up camp, Santelli continued to drive the team forward. Until a column of smoke blackened in the last rays of the sun. A clear sign of life in the form of a hearth.

"Here we are," said the foreman. "Consider it a quarter of the job done."

Five houses nestled on the edge of the small forest that bordered the southern edge of the swamp. They were called "cradles," typical of the area, and were the easiest to build, even simpler than a frame house. A wooden frame, the future door, was dug into the ground, then poles or simply peeled trunks were placed around the circumference, joining at one point on top where gaps were left intentionally. A sort of tepee was made only of wood. At the bottom, the structure was surrounded by stones and earth. The cracks were damped with clay mixed with dung and chopped wood. It remained to hang the door on belt loops and make an open hearth with an iron tripod and chain for a cauldron in the center of the tent.

The house was weak, but it was quick to build, undemanding in terms of materials, and moderately warm. A more complex version was built on a frame made of vertical poles and horizontally stacked planks. Usually, people did not live in such huts - there was too much useless interior space - but they used them as a kind of common clubhouse.

The settlement where Santeli led the brigade consisted of a dozen common "cradles" and one large one, where in the warmer months, the whole clan gathered to take care of household chores.

At Elena's glance, the family numbered twenty or so people of all different ages. Without exception, they all obeyed the patriarch.

Santelli and Swampy were clearly acquainted; they managed with a minimum of words. The children quickly put the horse and cart under the shed, which acted as a half-open stable. Without orders, they began to clean and feed the horse, filling it up with fodder and dragging water from the barrel that had warmed up during the day.

The brigade was assigned two places on the outskirts closest to the swamp. A fire was already blazing in the stone-lined hearths, and it seemed that Santelli and his companions had been expected here. Lena noticed that the swamp folk used peat, or something similar, instead of the ubiquitous oil shale. Well, yes, it makes sense... She wonder what the natives lived from. There wasn't enough tackle for leech fishing. It was too wet for farming. Taking her hiking bag into the cabin, Lena decided that the swamp people most likely worked as a transit station for the "tar people," and that's how they lived.

The healer also noted the abundance of swastikas. They seemed to have been burned and scratched on any flat surface. The swastikas were regular, that is, sunny, with rounded rays. Sometimes eight-pointed, with ends of different lengths. The girl did not notice anything like that in the Gate. It must have been some kind of local cult, maybe even pagan.

It suggested that, among other things, Lena hadn't seen anything on the Wastelands that could be considered religious symbolism. Not that the girl was in a hurry to look behind everyone's collar, but still... All sorts of amulets, talismans, cleverly chopped-up coins, whatever, but she hadn't seen anything uniform and iconic. She wonders what that has to do with it.

The moon had already rolled over the horizon, mingling its light with the fading sun. It was nothing like the dead, solemn contrast of the first morning. Everything seemed very soft, subdued, and watercolor.

The swampsmen offered no food, but they shared water. They generally tried to communicate as little as possible with the outsiders, immediately lowering their eyes and walking away at the attempt to speak. When the sun flashed a scarlet edge and went out, the children walked along the invisible perimeter of the settlement, lighting stone bowls. In them smoldered some unusual herb, the kind Lena had never seen before. It looked like mint but with a tangible hint of senna. It wasn't unpleasant, but she didn't want to breathe it. Lena thought it must be how they protect themselves from some marsh guests. Biso's stingy muttering confirmed the hunch - the swampsmen were warding off some "jellies," whom they were definitely afraid of. Perhaps the brigade should have been afraid too, but Santelli was calm, and so was the alchemist, so the girl decided she shouldn't be nervous at all.

No one stayed up late. They went to bed early, and no sentries were posted, which surprised Lena again. One must assume that the swampsmen were tried and trusted partners. In the well-heated room, it was surprisingly cozy. The peat burned dimly but with good heat, and its smell interrupted the unpleasant aroma of the guardian grasses. Smoke was drawn into the holes at the top of the cauldron. Putting on a thin sleep cap, Lena suddenly realized she wasn't plagued by nightmares in the Wastelands. She hadn't dreamt in the past few days, or the dreams had been firmly forgotten. On the one hand, it was good. On the other hand...

The girl was literally racking her brain trying to figure out what the vision with the cave and the swords meant. All the other dreams could be written off as the work of the subconscious, perceiving the magical background of the wasteland. But that ... The subconscious could only work with the images it already had. And Lena was pretty sure she had never seen a sword like that. So she had seen the future? Or the past? A warning? But of what?

Lena covered herself tightly with the blanket. She looked at the scarlet sparks dancing over the fire in the rising warm air.

The past is gone. And the future has not come. There is no point in agonizing over mysteries that cannot yet be solved. Maybe their time will come, maybe not.

She has to go to sleep. Tomorrow will be a difficult day. Tough and really dangerous.

Santelli stood by the stables for a while, watching the tall jugs with rope braids, the result of Bizo and Matrice's distilling experiments, being unloaded. None of them leaked, which was good to see. In the morning, the men would be glad when it was time to smear themselves with the contents... especially the squeamish and slightly pampered Hel.

Finally, he talked to the father of the family about "eternal lamps."

It was understandable, and yet amusing in its own way, that the inhabitants of the open Wastes were technically closer to Profit, but they preferred to buy it from the "townsfolk." The best of all was magical lamps, similar to moonlight crystals but with a different working principle. The crystal had to be soldered with moonlight, which the glass then gave off. The lamp could shine for several generations without any tricks. The only thing to do was to hold it no closer than an outstretched arm. Otherwise, the body would develop non-healing sores, and the eyes would become cloudy with cataracts.

The settlement had no lamp - it was taken during the division of property by his eldest son, who had left the clan with his family to set up his own settlement. He had the right, and he took it at the expense of all other valuables. Now the patriarch intended to buy a new one. Santelli promised, and the chiefs haggled a little, more as a wake-up call.

Left alone, the foreman sat for a while on a stump that had been dug in instead of a stool. The swamps reeked of dampness and the smell of wet frogs. He didn't want to sleep because he was scared. Santelli grunted, got up, and wandered to his place, wondering if half a flask of fortified wine would soothe him enough to fall asleep.

* * *
[1] "Korean way" of archery, google "Tong-Ah," and an artistic depiction can be seen in the movie War of the Arrows (2011).

Crosspost on the Royalroad
 
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Chapter 18. "The Cursed Old House"
Chapter 18. "The Cursed Old House"


* * *​


Every good deed starts in the dark. As they used to say in the Wastelands, the first ray of the sun kills a work. If you hadn't done anything good before it came (or at least, you hadn't started), you couldn't do it afterward either. In the argo of the brigades, there was even a special word to define a worthless, empty person, who seems to do something, but still will not make any difference. Literally, it was translated as "midday slacker." All this and more, Lena remembered as the team gathered for the swamp raid. The girl thought it would be scary. In fact, preparations began with disgust and double disgust.


First, Biso briefly described for the uninitiated (that is, Elena, the soldiers, and Charley) who the "jelly" were and why the marshes were so dangerous. So, according to the alchemist, the swamps were inhabited by small and disgusting creatures, similar to jellyfish, blind and one by one completely harmless. They would have been good for everything except one thing-the creatures were collective predators. Black wasps only banded together when someone disturbed their nest or killed a congener. Jellys attacked anything larger than a piglet. The translucent lumps of jelly quickly formed into a single organism, like balls of mercury merging into a large blob, and they came down on their prey in their entirety. Biso mentioned that the creature, when fully "assembled," could reach the weight of ten "dry barrels," that is, more than a ton. The most disgusting thing was that, as far as the twentieth-century girl understood, the jelly was saturated with oxygen. Therefore, the victim, having been devoured, did not suffocate and often did not even lose consciousness during the very slow digestion process.


Running away from the jelly monster was extremely difficult, and killing it was impossible because you can't hit a jellyfish that has no organs or even blood. Only some alchemical acids and very rare herbs, whose smoke steadily deterred the enemy, saved the day. It was still possible to walk in a special way, avoiding rhythm and using woven swamp skis, bypassing dangerous places, but these tricks had to be learned over the years.


Matrice and Santelli found a better and simpler way. They approached the question from the position of rational knowledge and began to try everything, hoping to find a remedy that would reliably deter the jelly and, at the same time, be somewhat cheaper than the herbs that must be collected twice a year during the waning moon, committing a lot of ridiculous actions in the process. They searched and found it. More precisely, Santelli found it. He pointed out that the Jellys digest and absorb almost everything in a person, but only "almost." And Matrice put the production on stream. A magnificent, very effective substance that reliably repelled transparent death. You just have to coat yourself with it and renew it as it evaporated.


Elena was already sickened by the alchemist's colorful description of the process of digestion of the victim and the thought that she had signed up to go straight into the jelly beast's mouth. Then Santeli, looking like a snide Mickey Mouse, broke the wax seal with his dagger and opened the first jug of the magic potion.


Kai did not react in any way; it seems that the improvement in his nose only affected his appearance without adding to his sense of smell. Shena said many words that Lena had never heard before and couldn't even understand the roots. Biso looked at his colleagues with undisguised gloating. Zilber and Einar looked at each other, sighed heavily, and said they would not demand more payment than agreed. But if the brigadier at the end of the campaign did not make them a gift from the heart, in compensation for this ... they will not understand the brigadier and will harbor unkind thoughts in their hearts.


The foreman reassured him with the message that at least they wouldn't have to worry about clothes. Everything irreversibly spoiled by the nightmarish smell will be reimbursed at the employer's expense. So time is of the essence. It is time to get smeared, gentlemen travelers.


* * *​


What is a trip for Profit?


Before the trip began, Lena knew exactly that it was a danger. It was also pain, injury, and probably death. With very good luck, money, and pleasure. Women, men (for connoisseurs or fighters like Shena). Wine, narcotic elixir, simple gluttony, finally. The girl appreciated what she saw directly - the wounded on Matrice's table, the dead men on the wagons, the tar men wasting the proceeds.


Over the past few days, she had discovered a new aspect of brigade work - careful planning, the procurement of a variety of equipment, and the desire to avoid all sorts of problems by eliminating the very possibility of their occurrence. Now, it turned out that going after Profit was all of the above plus hard work. Unthinkable, exhausting hell of monotonous movement when you no longer care about any danger. You just want to lie down and die because even death seems easier than a few more steps on this road. And a few more. And some more. When there is only fog and puffing Biso behind, a dim sun disk overhead, which is sinking in the clouds, and ahead is Einar's shield, hung on the belt behind the deserter's back.


Lena had never seen swamps before, only imagined them in movies. It reminded me the most of Infinity Story and Fury Road. It was a sea of mud, alternating with strips of more or less clear water, and the top was covered with a brown-green carpet of tangled vegetation. The grass is common, grass long and short, grass with smooth stems, thorny stems, with shoots that look like daggers or worse. Reeds, reaching to the waist, growing in dense groves and hiding myriads of flies. Lianas, twisting underfoot in treacherous loops, turning into dense balls like bundles of rats' tails. Spiders the size of the palm of my hand lived there, their venom not lethal but leaving behind twisted joints and chronic pain for years to come.


Occasionally a gray-green streak glided by, which meant a snake had been spooked. A couple of times, they met small leeches. One Zilber pulled out of his boot, and the creature managed to stick into the skin and inject an anticoagulant, so now "brother-soldier" squelched a boot full of his blood.


The brigade walked in a chain and tied together with two ropes. Santélli was first, and Charley was last. At irregular intervals, obeying some reason of his own, Zilber drew from his sack the fine milestones he had brought with him in the cart and marked the way. Every third or fourth one, Biso would call out, leaving a mark to be found later in the fog.


"Take a halt," Santelli said quietly, putting aside the pole.


Einar looked around to see if the people behind him had heard. In the fumes of the swamp, the yellow lenses of his glasses looked opaque, like the eyes of an underwater monster.


Lena was about to throw off the ponjaga, but stopped in time, remembering that the "Vietnamese footlocker" was taped to the frame, which was not to be squished. It was the medicine chest that caused the medic the brunt of her suffering. Elena, absorbed in gathering and express-mastering of the road wisdom, did not think at all about how she would carry both the luggage and the box at the same time. No one, of course, did not think about it for her either, as a person knows better how to encase themselves with equipment. In the end, the box had to be carried over her shoulder on the belt and then, in the second resting place, taped to the ponjaga, on top of everything else. The box was no longer dragging under her arms and hitting her in the side, but her center of gravity was completely displaced behind her, so she had to lean forward and put tension on her lower back. Her back was already aching and cramping despite the corset belt. This was bound to get worse.


The girl took a sip of water from the flask. She slid her hand down her thigh, tucking the flask into the braid on her belt, and felt the texture of her skin change. She glanced down and realized that, after hours of walking through thorny thickets, the malignant flora had literally worn away the top layer of skin on her pants. It was as if she'd been sanded down with a big sandpaper and hadn't missed a single crease.


Biso, meanwhile, was checking the direction with a cup of water and a steel needle, but he was whispering something over it and throwing grains of salt into the cup. The sight of the alchemist made Lena jealous and inferior. The sorcerer was older than she was (and by far), well-fed, short-legged, and not at all strikingly fit. At the same time, he was moving along the swamp quite briskly, keeping up with the foreman and canting his traveling bag and dragging his traveling bag and the chest with alchemical ingredients by himself.


Lena leaned back on the bump, stretching out her heavy, lead-lined feet. The boots had long ago been soaked to the last thread and lint, as had the windings. There were still socks, but the girl decided to wear them at the next resting place. Einar took his shoes off altogether, hanging the tied boots around his neck and yellowing his calloused heels, stiff even to the touch, like goat's hooves. Zilber checked the leech-infected leg, saw that the blood was still dripping in tiny droplets, and whispered a curse. He would have liked to go barefoot, too, but Santelli had expressly forbidden it. Blood in the water was the last thing the brigade needed right now.


The swamp was never quiet. All the time, something was squelching, clucking, and squawking. Amphibious creatures rustled, and water splashed under the carpet of densely intertwined grasses, reflecting some incomprehensible underwater life. From time to time, from a distance, the wind brought an eerie sound like a wistful dreary moan. It must be how banshees howl, foretelling one's doom. But the tarred ones paid no attention to the moaning, nor did Charley, apparently judging that everything was going their way, as it should.


The background noise was sharply different from anything Lena's ears were used to, which only added to the anxiety. All the time, it seemed as if someone was rustling, sneaking up on her. The haze muffled the sounds, turning them inside out and putting them back in so the footsteps and other noise made by the brigade seemed to swirl around, becoming distorted. It seemed as if an entire battalion was marching in the distance, rattling its armor. Or a column of heavy cavalry was speeding up for a lance strike. Exhausted ears even caught separate words and commands in a half-forgotten language. And involuntarily listening, Lena began to doubt - and whether it's just a quirk of the acoustics?


It was said that the swamps were once a convenient plain where all the major battles for the Wastelands took place, which were then still a paradise. Like on Kawanakajima, where Takeda and Uesugi would have their interwar games time after time. Perhaps the cursed swamp captured the souls of the murdered and has not let them go for centuries? Again and again, the ghosts converge in endless battles, reliving the last moments of their lives...


But most frightening, of course, was the realization that at any moment, the green carpet could swell and break up in shreds, releasing a gelatinous tumor driven only by the instinct to devour everything in the world.


Ugh, that's disgusting... Lena reached into her bag, without a command, for a bottle of repellent liquid. The stock in the jugs was dispersed into special bottles, five bottles for one person. This should have been enough to spare because the bottles were solid, and the smell was persistent. Unscrewing the cap, Lena grimaced and turned away - though she was partly used to it by now, the smell of concentrated urea mixed with chlorine hurt her nose like a good boxer. Covering her face with her hand, she sprayed herself diligently, trying not to waste too much and, at the same time, treat as many areas as possible. Her stomach was tearing out, sourly lodged somewhere near her throat in a clump of wriggling muscles.


"Let's go," said the foreman as he lifted the ponjaga on his back. The tightly rolled blanket and the two burlap rolls were soaked through. The brigadier's beard hung in sad icicles with a few grasses stuck in it. One braid was tucked behind his ear, the other stuck to his sweaty forehead like a schoolgirl in the rain. Combined with the brigadier's bestial appearance, it looked like a surreal kawaii.


Lena wiped her wet face with her wet sleeve and only now realized that the water was brackish. It must be true what they said - the marshes are not fed by the main river, which after the Cataclysm went underground, leaving a chain of lakes on the surface, but communicate directly with the sea so the deep springs mix their water with ocean salt.


God, when will it end... and will it ever end?


As she tried to stand up, a sharp pain shot through her lower back, as if a chisel had been thrust between her vertebrae. She remembered Grandpa, who had been suffering from sciatica in recent years and had tried everything, from a wool belt to the Kuznetsov applicator. Lena clenched her teeth and decided to let her spine endure this day. Just this day. And then she would definitely be smarter...


The tarred ones passed by the corpse of a taguar that had gotten here. No one knows how, and no one knows why. The ferocious ambush predator, capable of one-on-one killing even an armed man, found an opponent scarier than itself. The beast was left with its head and hind legs completely intact. And the spine between them was stripped down to bare bones with cartilaginous veins. Judging by the fact that the small scavengers had not yet covered the remains, the tarantula had been eaten quite recently.


The sun was climbing across the sky like a yellow bug. It had been a warm day, so the swamp slurry was steaming like a bathhouse. At a distance of fifteen or twenty meters, it was impossible to see anything. The fog was a wispy wall behind which ghostly figures glided. It was as if someone was extending whitish fingers toward the people who were walking, which blurred into a haze beneath their gaze. But as soon as she turned away, the fog was again throwing up disembodied tentacles, wriggling between the bumps.


Shena fell into a hidden swamp and went right up to her chest into a water well hidden under a false bump. The first safety rope, brand-new, personally tested by Santelli on every inch of it, tore instantly. The fibers came apart like a rotten rag. She was saved by ahlspis, which she managed to deploy as a rescue pole, and a second rope, which was woven on the road Bizo from the grass. With a concerted effort, the lancewoman was pulled back and immediately lavished with stinky essence to replace the one that had washed away in the forced bathtub.


The first bottle of decomposed urine ran out. She had to open the second one. Lena decided that now she would make her way to that tree, lie down there, and not go anywhere else, let them drag her, let them beat her, let them deprive her of pay, and let her have to slave for Matrice for the rest of her life, no matter what. She would go no further. But when the cherished point was near, it became clear that there was still a little strength left in her exhausted muscles, like drops of wine left out in a flask of dried pumpkin by a drunkard.


All right, forget it. But over by that bump, that's it.


That's it.


"Here we are," said the foreman without excitement or emotion.


The Swamp House was not as legendary as, say, the Crystal Cave, the Spring, the Coastal Labyrinth, the Bone Pit, the Golden Garden, or any of the other interesting places whose names are always on everyone's lips in the Gate. But it was known, and some had even tried to get around. No one has succeeded. The "tarred ones" either returned empty-handed or disappeared in their entirety. Gone were those who dared to spend the night within the walls, which for more than four centuries had no way of escaping into the bottomless swamp. And so Santelli decided to take a risk, extracting Profit in a place where previously only death had been found. Or worse. The brigadier did not look mad, so he must have known something special which promised at least a shadow of a chance for success. That was what the brigade would have to find out in the coming hours, for the day was drawing to a close.


"Everybody take off your clothes," the tired Santelli handed out commands as if barking. And the first began to unbuckle the straps of the leather cuirass, squelching with swampy sludge and bubbles of someone's caviar. No one questioned; it was clear to everyone that the first thing to do after such a crossing was to check for lurking parasites and other crap.


Lena thought she would feel some embarrassment, maybe hear some slurs, but everyone was exhausted to the point where their naked bodies evoked no emotion. People as people, primary sexual characteristics, and everything else God intended. Or Pantocrator. Except that Charley was a bit of a surprise. The older man, whom Lena would have given a good forty-something, was as thin and wiry as a twenty-year-old. The brether's abs could be scanned and taken as a benchmark for photoshopping the bellies of Hollywood stars. Judging by the scars, the maître had been hacked a lot and hard. And very professionally stitched, including masterful stitching of severed tendons. Except for the last wound, the freshest-looking one. It left a wide pinkish scar across his chest, with distinctive stitches. Lena had seen this before - it meant the wounded man had sewn himself up with the wrong hand.


Another leech was extracted from Zilber's second boot. This time the swamp creeper had no time to get under the pant leg, so the archer, with great pleasure, stomped the creeper into the mush and got into the leather case, pulling the wet bowstring. The brigade collected a dozen ticks from each other, and Lena treated each bite with great care, for some of the symptoms of the local fevers resembled encephalitis. A lone jellyfish climbed into Shena's pram - Lena had expected to see something jellyfish, but the swamp horror resembled a cute yellow-bellied creature with two short legs made of translucent glass with thin black veins. They trampled the creature together and poured a generous amount of urine essence over it. Each traveler had another bottle to examine the house and two for the way back.


The evening crept up quickly and stealthily, like a taguar to its prey. Or something that, in turn, stole the unfortunate cattle, nibbling them like an ice cream stick. The thought of having to spend the night in the house was so obvious that no one even spoke it out loud. Except in the glances that fell on the Santelli, there was a collective mute question - what cunning trick had the foreman come up with this time?


"Put the luggage here," Santelli said curtly. "We'll go on the light. We'll haul it in later."


Lena hung the medical box on a belt over her shoulder. Behind and to her left, Shena clinked steel muffled, pulling on flat-ringed gloves. Next to the lancer, it was... calmer. With Shena behind her, Lena felt as if she were in a warm cocoon of invisible protection.


While the crew looked at each other and took a breath, Lena did not perceive the house as something separate. It was just an object they had finally reached. Now it was time to take a closer look at the house.


The first close look immediately brought to mind the word "colonial." It was unclear why. The house did not have what is usually associated with the proverbial "colonial style." No white walls, columns, or open floor plan let in a refreshing breeze. The house was once three stories high and, judging by visible features, was built around four corner towers with balconies. Most likely, there was even an atrium inside. Now the first floor was almost completely buried in the damp earth, so the house seemed to be about two stories.


And yet, for some reason, the building gave the impression of a country residence. Something light, entertaining, built not for defense and not even for a simple life, but for a pleasant pastime in good company. Too much carving on the eaves. Too thin, decorative shutters - those that have not yet crumbled and decayed in the dirt to a state of semi-liquid chaff. Too wide double doors. Lots of stairs, on whose rotten steps not even a fly would lay its paw now, but in the past, you could walk up them to practically any part of the house. Windows, real ones, not stained-glass windows in lattice frames. In some places, there are even individual nicks of broken glass.


What was most surprising was that the house did not give Lena the impression of something dangerous or threatening. Perhaps, because it was too intact for a structure more than four hundred years old. Just an old house, abandoned by its owners, resisting the oppression of time as best it could.


Except that no one has ever survived a full night here - from dusk to dawn.


"Let's go," Santelli said as he ran his fingers along the blade of the axe.


Einar moved his shield from his back to his hand and slammed his sword against the broad umbo strap. Quietly the saber hissed as Charley drew it from its sheath.


The foreman took the first step toward the house.


John Carpenter's Vampires... Or something like that. That was the first thing that came to Elena's mind. And Santelli, indeed, was something subtly similar to James Woods of the ninety-eighth year, only bearded. He was the same thin, alert as a cocked crossbow, with a face that bore a grimace of anxious readiness. The foreman's clenched teeth seemed about to crack.


A gap between the flaps allowed them to stick their hand in and try to unlock the door from the inside. It seemed that only a thin chain could lock it from the inside. But Santelli acted for sure and, unlike the vampire hunter, did not cut the lock but simply kicked the door open with a mighty kick. The brigadier was not going to give his more than likely opponent inside a single extra chance.


Kicking the door open, Santeli stepped back, and Einar shielded them both and put out a gladius. Biso held a vial of green mist over his head, ready to hurl it into the dark abyss. Zilber, with his bow half drawn, peered through the second-story windows.


There was a tangible whiff of dampness and draught from inside as if the house had exhaled stale air. The breeze carried scraps of debris that looked like scraps of decayed paper outside. Silence... The noisy background noise of the swamp receded into the background, silenced. Consciousness simply cut off everything else. As one of Napoleon's marshals used to say, "Think of them as being on the moon." Everything that did not concern the house was now on the moon and beyond for Elena.


Santelli stepped onto the porch that had once been a balcony. The wood creaked, and the sound came out ringing, new. The brigadier held his axe at the ready. Einar crouched and raised his shield even higher, swinging his sword like a hornet's sting. With a fine "goose" step, the two warriors plunged into the deafening shadow that flooded the house from within. Behind them, after a brief pause and without command, followed Biso, who did not let go of the vial. The plump alchemist had picked himself up, and even though he wore a comical robe and an equally comical hat, he looked quite militant.


And he'd been down with the crew on common ground, thought the cure. The fat, funny-looking, overweight Gandalf had seen horrors she'd never imagined. And he was still alive. Could she?


"Come in," Santelli called.


One at a time, Charley and Zilbert were the last to go, their backs to the front, looking to see if anyone had snuck up behind them. The archer still had his arrow on a string. The arrow was short literally point-blank, but the point was yellow with oily streaks. The tip was poisoned.


"Stand and listen," the foreman said quietly.


It was dark inside. Lena belatedly thought that she should have had one eye shut outside. Then she would have seen much better. It smelled like old leaves and more paper. The distinctive smell of yellowed pages. The smell of Time itself.


Biso, without looking back, handed Helena the vial. She took it with both hands. Her fingers trembled a little; now she knew what was inside. The alchemist drew a long wire from under his robe, breaking off a piece of two palms or slightly longer by eye. He twisted it into a figure that looked like a horse with a tail. He lifted it on his palm and snapped the fingers of his free hand. Greenish flame immediately engulfed the wire beast, darted to the high ceiling with a long tongue, and immediately extinguished so that only a handful of weightless ash remained on the dirty palm of the alchemist. The next moment a draught scattered it as well. Biso licked his lips, grimaced, and then announced:


"Nothing. No magic beyond the usual."


This meant they could cut off at least a third of the possible opponents who were emitting tangible magical emanations one way or another. Which was certainly a good thing. On the other hand, there were still two-thirds of the list with plenty of creatures that didn't become any less dangerous because of their natural nature.


Santelli opened his mouth, bowed his head, and turned it sideways just like a dog strenuously tracking a hidden game. The brigadier seemed to perceive the world around him, with his whole body tense like a sensitive membrane.


"Shena, Hel, wait here. Maître, keep an eye on them. The rest of you follow me."


The battle group, led by the brigadier, moved forward. The boards under their boots creaked in every way. Not like wood, which should be rotting away by now. Shena shoved her ward to the side with her right shoulder, pressed against the cool wall. She froze, swaying slightly on her half-bent legs. The tip of the ahlspies, on the other hand, seemed to stiffen. Charley stood between Shena and the doorway with its bowed sash. He lowered his sword with seeming carelessness. The black braided cords on his sleeves looked like thin snakes. I wanted to ask - what were they for? The laces had too utilitarian and simple a look to seem decorative.


As is often the case, the house seemed much larger on the inside than on the outside. From here, from the vast corridor that transitioned to the reception room with access to three sides at once, Lena could not appreciate the layout in its entirety, but she immediately noticed two things.


First of all, the house - here's a fresh and original thought! - is abnormal. On the outside, its condition could somehow be attributed to the special materials and the miraculous preservative properties of the marsh miasms. Inside ... It seemed that the house had been left ten years ago at the latest. And it had been left. Inside reigned the desolation of the place, which quietly and dignified deteriorated naturally.


Secondly, the layout, the furnishings, and everything inside did not correlate at all with the way of life Elena was already accustomed to in the Gate. The house seemed to have been built and arranged on Earth in the seventeenth century, maybe later. Everything about it was different, different from what she'd seen in the Gate, even when she'd lived in a house of her own. The ceilings were too high, the windows too large, and the wooden panels on the walls definitely served for beauty rather than insulation. Remnants of carpets on the floor. Parquet instead of normal boards or plain stone sprinkled with straw. Exquisitely wrapped candlesticks, seemingly bronze, protruded from the walls. There were no torch-holders, though the height of the ceilings allowed them to be lit without fear of scorching the rafters. A yellow object in the corner looked like a ball, clearly decorative.


So that's how they lived before the Cataclysm... Maybe they live now, somewhere far beyond the mountains that ring the Wasteland.


Judging by the creaks and noises, the crew in the house had split up. Someone went to the second floor, the stairs crackling peculiarly as if someone was breaking bundles of thin splinters. And someone, on the contrary, tried to go down to the place where the first floor went underground, turning into a basement. This was reassuring - if Santelli decided to split up the group, it meant he no longer saw any immediate threat.


Her eyes finally got used to the semi-darkness, and Lena realized that the yellow, round thing, hidden in the deep shadows just behind the kicked-out door, was a human skull. Very neatly placed, clean, and similar in color and shape to an old "ivory" billiard ball. A simple skull... Yet something about it caught her attention. There was something strange and unnatural about the bone. Although, what in this house is natural?


Against her own will, the girl returned her gaze to the skull until, at last, she realized that the proportions were correct, but the bone structure itself... The side of her forehead and the right side looked as if they were covered in hard fleece, like the fur of a meowr, only more often and sharper in appearance. A multitude of bone needles grew out of the skull plates, precisely grown, making one with the base. Thousands of needles fused into a yellow, hard imitation of fur. Around the eye socket and on the cheekbone, the prickles lengthened, and flattened, forming tufts of long, flat warts as long as a fingernail.


It looked absolutely beyond disgusting. Lena couldn't explain why, but the skull literally exuded an abomination, worse than a gangrenous leg, worse than the feeling of rotten blood on her fingers.


The girl silently pointed to the dead head, and Shena only shook her head in displeasure with a clear message "don't get distracted!"


"No shit down there!" Zilber proclaimed rather loudly from behind the wall. "It's all flooded!"


It took about half a minute before Santelli finally responded:


"Go upstairs. It's quiet up here."


Inside, the mansion gave the impression of a frozen, unfinished renovation. The building had certainly not been ransacked or even robbed. There was a lot of furniture and small items like broken flowerpots and torn trellises, which seemed to have been used instead of mats and bedspreads. Apparently, the brigade's predecessors.


Lena could not see the details - the sun was setting, the light behind the empty windows was pouring in thick shades of gray, and the house was painted in the same gray tones. And she could not divide her attention equally among the different senses. Now the main thing was hearing, which caught the slightest creak, rustle, painfully responded to the quiet clinking of iron. But the impression of riches remained and even increased.


But there was no atrium in the house. The first, now underground floor, was completely flooded with water. Still, dead water stands in the stairwell. The wooden railings on the posts, in the form of intricately curved spirals, went straight into the greenish liquid, and no one dared even to come closer. There was no telling what was lurking below.


On the second floor, in the center of the building, there was a windowless library. It was lit - judging by its massive three-legged supports - by a combination of mirrors transmitting sunlight from the outer gallery. It was now dark and humming.


Zilber immediately made a stand for broken mirrors, and Lena noted to herself that if she could collect them and return with the loot, the trip would at least pay for itself, maybe even taking into account all the equipment. Even though they were fragments, the quality of the mirrors was outstanding, just like in their former life on Earth.


The library looked more like a reading room, too large even for such a respectable house. Tall shelves of pale yellow wood, covered with stingy carvings, alternated with long tables of darker polished material, one-and-a-half stories tall. The elongated six-legged tables seemed plastic, so monochrome and smooth did their surface appear. If it was wood, it had been treated in some unknown way.


Some of the bookshelves had been knocked over, the books scattered like dead bugs with their wings crumpled. Elena's greed trembled here, and she wanted to make a grand raid on the books immediately. Especially since the written language hadn't changed since the Cataclysm, and she had more or less learned how to read. Sheena noticed her ward's faltering step and nudged her back with the shaft of an ahlspise, not hard but palpable.


"Afterwards, we should check the folios," the brether said softly, echoing the cure's thoughts. "There may be wonderful treasures here."


Which, so far, no one has taken out of here, thought Elena but remained silent.


The parquet on the second floor was special, made of palm-sized rectangles in black and green squares, polished and coated with a glassy film of perfect transparency. Not stone, but clearly not ordinary wood either. Even the lightest step on the two-colored glass produced a melodic clang. Charleigh stomped, clinked the edge of his sword against the black square, and decided approvingly:


"There's no way to approach us unnoticed. It's like the "singing floors" in the houses of the Bonoms."


In the center of the reading room, a wide twisted staircase spiraled up to the top, to the top floor. It seemed to grow up from the floor thanks to steps of the same color and material. Compared to all the other stairs in the house, this one was much narrower, barely big enough for two people, and the railings were very simple, with no carvings or scrolls, plain white metal, like aluminum.


The library seemed to be a place where a lot of people gathered regularly (or at least that was a possibility). And upstairs, there was clearly something very private, a room that was off-limits to outsiders.


"This way," Biso called from above. The alchemist's voice trembled with impatience.


"You first," said Shena. Her eyes sparkled in the half-darkness of the reading room like the shards of a magic mirror. Lena could feel the shivers of impatient excitement running through her body. Whatever the brigade, led by Santelli, was looking for was very close, only a few steps away. The brether was the only one who remained completely unperturbed, at least outwardly.


One by one, they went up. The steps rattled quietly beneath their feet.


The upper hall really looked like the office of a stargazer - twelve-cornered, with a transparent roof in the form of a polyhedral pyramid on radial pylons. Lena noticed at once that all the glass was intact, not a single break in it.


And it wasn't a stargazer who lived here. Under the glass prism, over which time and nature had no control, was the artist's studio.


"That is," said the foreman quietly. "We found it."


* * *​
Cursed Old House Song by the band King and Jester.
 
Chapter 19. "The Moon's Eye"
Chapter 19. "The Moon's Eye"

* * *

The studio was almost empty, with the three main objects arranged in a triangle, dividing the space into equal segments. An easel, a sofa, and a mirror. Everything was clear with the sofa. Judging by its shape and disposition, it was supposed to hold a drawing model. And it was not to sit down vulgarly but to place it in a free, refined position. One might even say, stirring the imagination.

An easel... It was very different from what Elena was used to, but it was clearly an easel. On a high, thin leg stood a rectangular almost square frame enclosed in a bronze circle with hooks. To all appearances, these hooks, in the form of silvered claws, were used to hang some kind of artistic device. The structure looked as did everything in the house, strange and unfamiliar but at the same time recognizable and functional. Without the pretentiousness typical for bad decorators of cheap movies. This thing was created based on some ideas of convenience and practicality, but the ideas were sensible, and the easel was used often. The canvas on the frame was turned away from Elena, and the foreman was looking at it.

Lena estimated that judging by the height of the frame and the inclination of Santelli's head, the artist of bygone times might have been taller than the visitor from the alien world, six feet, if not more. For some reason, it seemed at once that it was the woman. There were no individual items like jewelry, clothing, or other accessories preserved in the studio, and yet ... There was no way a man could have arranged everything exactly like that. A woman worked here, and the room under the glass pyramid, decorated with red and white stone and dark, almost black wood, belonged only to her, no one else.

And the smell... Or rather, the elusive shadow of scent... It was as if year after year the landlady had come up here, lightly touching behind her ears with the cork of her favorite perfume. The weightless scent permeated every panel, unobtrusively and at the same time reliably so even the stench of well-seasoned and decomposed urine seemed to recede and lose its sharpness.

Lilacs and gooseberries... She wonders what they really smell like. Maybe that's exactly what they smell like?

Lena stepped forward and to the side to see the picture, but Santelli had already covered it with the coverlet torn from the elegant sofa. At that, he looked at the healer angrily as if she had broken some important rule.

The mirror remained a rectangular, floor-standing mirror in a simple, unadorned frame. And it seemed that the surface was not glass but rather some kind of polished metal. A repeating pattern, a coat of arms or branding, ran along the entire perimeter of the black frame-an arrow, an eight-pointed star, and a moon sickle inscribed in a diamond and turned upside down with its horns.

"Good, good," Biso rubbed his palms, which were oozing with acrid sweat. Despite his apparent success, the alchemist was literally shaking with nervous excitement, as if the most interesting and difficult thing was to come.

"Suggestions?" asked Santelli curtly to everyone at the same time, apparently performing some sort of ritual.

The mirror... Lena looked closely and realized that nothing was reflected in the rectangle. It was impossible to describe it in words - the mirror seemed ordinary, with all the attributes of a mirror ... and at the same time, it looked at the world with an empty lens of polish. Lena mechanically stretched out her hand and touched the frame with her fingertips.

"Don't touch!" Biso's shriek literally tossed her aside. The alchemist yelled so loudly that the echo of his cry began to echo through the house, echoing in the empty rooms beneath the high vaults.

Biso tossed the girl aside with unexpected force so that she almost ran into the Valkyries' ahlspis. Hurriedly he pulled a nearly clean handkerchief from beneath his robe and carefully wiped the wood where Lena's hand had touched the surface. The alchemist's fright was not feigned; the healer had done something extremely bad.

"I think it's all right," muttered Biso, peering into the work of his hands. And he growled menacingly. "Don't you ever do that again! It's the Eye!"

Lena had no idea what an "Eye" was and with an obvious capital letter. But Charley seemed to know, so he nodded understandingly but without much judgment in his gaze.

"So," Santelli put the axe on the couch, forming a highly artistic installation of high with low, peaceful with the military. He clapped his hands sharply. "One more time and fast, the sun is setting. Suggestions!"

"We'll have to spend the night here," Biso calmed down and made the most obvious point. "We mustn't split up. We'll gut everything tomorrow morning."

"There's something to take," Zilber interjected, scratching his sideburns with one hand. The other kept the weapon with the arrow in its bowstring.

"It seems convenient here. You can enter only by the stairs," suggested Einar, and immediately hesitated, critically looking up.

"But the glass one here..." also hesitated Zilber.

It's very easy for a Winger to get in through it," Shena agreed.

"And the light will be visible," the alchemist muttered, wiping the mirror frame once more. "The whole neighborhood will come out to check the light."

The alchemist did not go on. It was already clear that there was someone to come, and they certainly would not bring good things with them.

Outside, the gloom was coming in. The sun, already obscured by clouds, was only a reddish glint on the horizon. Here, beneath the glass ceiling, everything was a murky yellow, which in turn was rapidly turning a grayish-brown hue. And the first floor must be dark by now, like the basement. Lena figured it would be a quarter of an hour before it was dark upstairs, too. And the moon wasn't likely to shine through the swampy haze.

"Look for a room," Santelli summed up without further thought. "A small one, but with shutters and a lockable door. I think there were a couple of them to the right of the reading room. We'll stay here now. We've got work to do. When we're done, we'll come down. Don't come in here. That's all."

Waiting for the last of the tarred ones to come down the spiral staircase, Biso touched a lever cleverly disguised as a lamp stand. He yanked and turned it specially. Curved petals of the same metal as the railing slid out of their concealed slots, diaphragmatically sealing off the descent, securely sealing the room from the rest of the house. The brigadier, the alchemist, and the swordsman were alone.

"Amazing," he whispered, nodding toward the curtained painting. "I didn't think so."

Kai silently moved his sword from one shoulder to the other.

"Later," impatiently threw in Santelli. "All this afterward. Are you sure you can do it?"

"Let's see..." The alchemist said, not too confidently. His voice trembled and faltered. Biso tore off his hat and tossed it in the corner. He rolled up his sleeves nervously, then tore off his cape as well, sending it off with the crumpled hat. The leather corset vest tugged at the alchemist's substantial belly.

"The Eye of the Moon..." Biso muttered feverishly, cracking his fingers. "Lunar... But some actually feed on the moon. And there are the allegorical ones, just nocturnal."

Santelli looked at his mage and realized that the alchemist was overwhelmed by the responsibility and complexity of the task, so he was clearly about to screw something up. The brigadier laid back on the couch, brushed off his pigtails with a graceful gesture, and asked:

"Do I look like a young courtesan? Will I be a masterpiece for the ages?"

For a couple of moments, Biso stared at the commander with a blank, maddened look. And then, at last, he understood and laughed deeply, sincerely. He laughed, throwing away the tension and fear with his laughter. Kai hid the smirk in the wrinkles that spread from the corners of his eyes. The foreman smiled, too, and rolled over with a soft, feline motion, getting to his feet.

"Come on, friend," he said. "Try it. If it doesn't work, it doesn't work. After all, the thing is half a thousand years old. Maybe it went stale a long time ago. Worst case, it'll break. Then we go with the old plan. Longer, but more usual."

Something rattled below, the sound hardly penetrating the thin but sturdy metal of the diaphragm. The tarred ones seemed to be breaking furniture, barricading the chosen room. Santelli smiled faintly, thinking he'd picked a good team. No strife or squabbling, and everyone getting the tasks right and earning their wages. Even the most troublesome rookies, the brether and the healer, don't mess up the enterprise too much.

Maybe Charley shouldn't have been hired. Well, there was talk of the Undead Duelist, who can only be killed by another brether's saber, having been challenged to fight properly, according to the old custom. As might be expected, no mad spirit was to be found in the house, which meant that the gold spent on the swordsman was a waste. On the other hand, if they survived until morning, there would be a hard road ahead, so the old killer might yet prove useful. It's too early to tell...

Biso carefully wiped his palms with a handkerchief, then wiped them again, this time with a special cambric cloth. He took a slate stick out of his bag, traced the perimeter of the frame, put his fingers on the polished surface, and whispered something. Kai and Santelli stepped back and to the side at once. Sometimes the old mirrors exploded, injuring and maiming hapless testers.

There was a thin, almost indistinguishable ringing in the hall and barely perceptible ripples from the wizard's fingers as if the polished metal was alive and malleable. Biso squeezed his eyes shut, blue veins appearing on the alchemist's forehead, his face contorted with tension. He whispered faster and faster so that the words were woven into a monotonous howl. The mirror flashed a bluish flame, and the next instant it spewed a torrent of ghostly flame and immediately drew it back in. Biso recoiled and fell unabashedly on his ass. Santelli mechanically jerked his finger up toward the ceiling and pressed it against his left collarbone, asking for Pantocrator's protection. Kai pressed his lips together.

The blind oval came to life with misty images, as if something was trying to pass from "the other side." Lena, if she had ever seen a magic experiment, would have thought of a broken focus. Foremen thought nothing; he waited patiently for the ancient artifact to come into full force, "tuning in" to the distant responder.

After a few more moments, the image suddenly gained clarity, depth, and color. Now the mirror looked more like a real window, showing the office. A room, to be exact, not too big, not too small, furnished with wealth unimaginable for the Wastelands. There was almost no wood or metal, only polished stone. Marble, granite, crystal, all in different shades and kinds, smoothed and chiseled by the most skillful sculptors, who had made the stone malleable, made it turn into clay, forming amazing images. Santelli tried to imagine how much a marble lectern table with a candlestick, made of the same stone, with malachite inlays, could cost. He couldn't.

A careful eye would have noted that the mirror reflected a study, not an amusement room or some other triclinium. The azurite shelves-so ancient that the original blue stone had turned green-were stuffed with ledgers, with many bookmarks and parchment sheets sewn into work notebooks. A whole stack of these sheets, thickly scribbled in green ink and torn in half, lay scattered on the two-color travertine floor, arranged in small octagons as a family crest - three acorns growing from a single root, which in turn braided a defeated boar. Someone had thrown away a fortune with admirable carelessness, for the scribbled parchment was usually scraped and then used over and over again until the material had thinned to the point of total worthlessness.

Even the wine glass on the candlestick was both precious (the best aventurine glass, decorated with gold enamel) and somehow ... utilitarian. The item, whose value can only be measured in gold, stood carelessly on the very edge of the lectern. The owner simply used the glass without giving a second thought to the price.

Santelli noticed that there was no chair, no bench, not even a stool in the office. No one could sit down, much less lie down.

"Where are the people?" The foreman asked quietly, wondering if he had mixed up the time. But as it turned out, the mirror had not finished tuning, and now the people appeared. Three, to be exact. And one beast. Santelli couldn't help the grimace of displeasure; he was expecting a more private, one-on-one conversation.

The first thing that immediately caught his eye was the Hobbist, a hyena-like creature, which, as it was widely believed, could not be trained in any way or by any means. The beast in the mirror disproved dozens of treatises on the art of hunting and breeding of animals because it sat quietly and serenely, and it was on a thin, gilded chain. Santelli had once been harassed by fighting pigs, of which the brigadier, then a young and naive young man, retained unpleasant memories. The Hobbist looked much scarier than a pig.

The hyena chain ended in a sloppy loop on the arm of a dazzlingly beautiful dark-haired woman in her twenties, no more (or less). The feminine woman looked like an independent fighter, with a haircut slightly longer than Shena's but styled so that her hair seemed even shorter. And dressed like a mercenary routier, in leather pants and a quilted jacket with long sleeves and silver embroidery. The brigadier's experienced eye immediately noticed that the jacket was, in fact, a magnificent imitation of a real military "quilted jacket" - too thin and would not protect against even a blow with a table knife. But if he sold it, he could hire a real routier, at least for a month, maybe longer. The white lace collar, made from real spider thread by the real Shadows from the Farm, was worth about as much. A polished shoulder pad with fine engraving covered his left arm, but the foreman couldn't see the engraving. Most likely, it was the same crest with acorns and a boar.

The second woman was the opposite, a blonde in a long white dress. Her face was covered by a mask in the shape of a gilded lattice, and the pattern was familiar to Santelli. So were the gold fingernails on her right hand, united by chains and tiny hinges in a glove-like structure. Such things, the brigadier sometimes found in the dungeons, and that was an extremely expensive Profit. The mask, coupled with the clawed gauntlet, could be enchanted for a variety of tasks, but mostly, they were used when working with "living cards" made of sand, spring water, or mercury.

The center of the lively composition was a man of advanced years, on either arm of whom the feminines were placed. Formally, the man appeared to be an old man whose face and long white robe were more suitable for a merchant than an aristocrat. Highborn men tended to let their hair grow to their shoulders and shave smoothly, demonstrating that their faces were unmarred by transmutations and sores, a tradition that dated back to the early years after the Cataclysm. This man wore a short solid beard. Old age imprinted itself in every wrinkle of his face, in every spot of pigment, marked his eyes, faded to unpleasant transparency, and dried his lips to a parchment-like appearance. Bluish shadows lingered under his eyes, clearly showing his master's long-standing predilection for rejuvenating elixirs and magical extracts. So the man was even older than he looked, ten years or more.

Only... he couldn't call him an "old man," even for Santelli, who had long ago lost all respect for the powerful.

The six men stared at each other through the impenetrable metal barrier in absolute silence. The alchemist barrelled sideways out of sight of the artifact. Kai held the sword out in front of him, pointing to the floor and placing his hands on the crosshairs as if he were putting a barrier in front of himself and the mirror. And for the first time, Santelдi wondered if maybe his mouth was too wide open and he couldn't swallow it, or even bite it off. The disgusting grunting of the hound hogs resounded in his ears again.

The Brigadier sighed and stepped forward, indicating that he would speak. The brunette jerked her hand impatiently, so the chain jingled, and the gray-haired man raised an eyebrow, keeping an expression on his face that was not squeamish... rather an ambivalent expression on his face. As if he were preparing to hear both absolute nonsense and sensible speeches. The blonde's face was concealed by a mask, but the golden claws clinked together. The mirror transmitted sound in an unfamiliar way, as if shaping it above the surface itself, weaving together the subtlest of vibrations.

"My respects..." the brigadier began and then hesitated for a moment. Initially, he was going to address his interlocutor as "suzerain", that is, "honorable", as was appropriate to his status. However, the mere sight of the gray-haired man appealed and insisted on resorting to "regle" that is "the ruler", a person of royal blood. Santelli stopped at a compromise and ended with an address:

" ... ovenjulegur."

When he heard that he was "exceptional," that is, a man equal to the heads of twenty-two families of true aristocracy, who have preserved the continuity of inheritance and the impeccability of blood after the Cataclysm, the gray-haired ... did not smile. His lips moved just a little, indicating not the shadow of a sneer but rather a hint of one, full of irony. The brunette snorted with a look of obvious disdain for the attempted flattery. The gray-haired man did not make a single move, did not even glance in the direction of the young woman, but the marble and granite office as if a cold draught wafted. The brunette literally swallowed a mocking snort and pulled the chain so the spotted beast looked perplexed at his mistress.

Fuck you! The brigadier thought and decided that now he was going to be himself. Santelli took the coverlet off the picture and carefully turned the easel with the picture towards the mirror.

"Closer," said the man in the robe. His voice was soft, old-fashioned, and cracked but strong at the same time. It was the voice of a powerful man who had never had to raise his voice to be heard.

The foreman moved the easel.

"Closer,"

Santelli felt himself beginning to boil over. A single look, a couple of phrases, the very intonation clearly showed him his place. And even without any particular desire to humiliate, just in between.

"Yes, I'm impressed," said the Duke without changing his tone. "You may remove the piece."

Santelli removed the canvas and rolled it into a tube, tilting his head and hoping that the beard and shadows in the studio would hide the expression of uncontrollable rage on his face. Biseau was already holding a leather case tube at the ready. Real night had crept up outside so that the ghostly light of the Eye was the only light in the room.

"I'm impressed," the gray-haired man repeated. "I didn't think you could keep your promises. Who would have thought... the last work of Geryon... or whoever wrote in his disguise... would be found somewhere in the back of the world... by the people of your occupation."

"It wasn't easy," said the foreman grimly, buttoning the lid of the tube on the bone button.

"By the way, are you aware of the fact,z that for nearly four centuries, no painter has ever been able to reach the heights of the old art?" the Duke suddenly asked.

"No. My family was far from... art."

"That's what I thought. The mystery of the golden ratio, the "body-in-itself" proportions, and other tricks are now lost. Forgotten. Unlikely forever, the human mind tends to move upward. On this, I agree with the Demiurge. However, for our generation - definitely."

"I suppose they will turn out to be remembered ... that is, restored when our world is once again bound together by trade and wealth."

"Explain."

"All work must be paid handsomely. High skill beyond imagination requires total self-denial. And a corresponding reward. In other words..." Santelli handed the leather cylinder to the alchemist and straightened up, crossing his arms over his chest. "The old craftsmanship will return when craftsmen can work as in the Old Empire and be paid the same for their work. If you want to make the pyramid taller, increase the base."

"It's an interesting concept..." The Duke frowned. "Controversial, but interesting. Yes, I can see that my son was right to judge you as a simple, somewhat simple-minded man but not devoid of a certain intelligence. Or at least of practical... wit."

"I don't know about wit," grinned the foreman. "But I'm not very good with words."

Santelli had already suppressed an attack of anger and looked at the situation from the outside. It was obvious that the Duke was provoking his interlocutor, probing, assessing the composure and overall state of mind. Unpleasant, however, understandable and tolerable. Given that the negotiators, although negotiated through Kai, it was the first time they saw each other face to face. And at stake were (probably) not even coins, but real phoenixes, and in such quantities that ...

So the worst thing to do here was to show weakness. All the more visibly offended. He's an aristocrat, he can't and doesn't know how to look at people differently from the top down. And the brigadier doesn't care in general, the main thing is to chew out his own advantage. And there's a chance for that. It is not for nothing that the gray-haired goat, though he spits insulting beauties, has kept women with him, of whom the brunette is palpably similar in features to his father...

"So, let's get back to business."

"I agree," the Duke folded together the long, thin fingers that covered the sleeves of his robe up to the second phalanges. The trim gleamed with real gold. "So, it's obvious why you want me. To give you a lot of money. But the question remains. Why do I want you after we've sealed the deal with Geryon? Kai, of course, tried to give me the impression that your glorious company performs some very special services. However, he did not convince me."

Kai sucked in the air noisily. Without seeing him, though, Santelli was sure that the swordsman had clenched his fists until his whitened fingers crunched on the crossbar of his sword.

"I think ... I'm sure you do," the brigadier felt a wicked amusement take hold of him. Santelli noticed, caught the spark in the Duke's eyes that he'd seen more than once in Matrice and the other bargain hunters with whom he haggled furiously for the Profit. A glimmer of interest, lively and perfectly sincere, carefully concealed behind a nonchalant face and sarcastic words.

"Really...?" The Duke's tone could have frozen the ocean and turned the waves into hummocks. But the foreman didn't flinch.

"Absolutely. You rule a city on the most convenient harbor in all the West. You live in two worlds at once, both under the ducal crown and under the merchant's purse, and you profit from both. You understand that no one in our land offers you more opportunities than I do."

"No more promise," the gray-haired man clarified. "And words are the cheapest commodity in the world."

"When I was banished from the city, and even my own family cut me off like an unwanted branch, everyone predicted a sad fate for me. But I survived," the brigadier grinned, teeth as cold as the duke. "When I came to the Watelands, barefoot and with a broken knife, no one believed I would succeed. But I succeeded. When I decided to get the painting from the cursed house on the moors and find a buyer for it, my companion called me crazy. You just saw the painting. Now I say I can wrest from the Cultists the castle of Meinhard and build a convenient, fast trade route directly to the northern harbor. From where your new ships, with their bottoms lined with copper, will be able to haul the Profit faster and more than any caravans coming through the mountains. Are you going to call me insane too?" The foreman grinned even more. "Or would you agree to lead and finance our enterprise?"

"A little gold and cursed artifacts?" sarcastically inquired the Duke. "The profits are not worth such an extensive investment. Mercenaries, settling problems with cultists, ships..."

"I know Kai, and I'm quite sure that your honorable son has exhaustively laid out the full list of our options," Santelli thought he was going to die at this sentence, spoken in one sitting, but he survived and didn't even catch his breath. "Not only a costly Profit but also special services that are only possible here on the Wastelands. Including special contracts with curses in case of breach of conditions. And by the way, I think I might add one more item now."

Santelli stepped even closer to the mirror. He took a pebble from his waist bag, which looked like crystals of sugared syrup pressed into a single briquette. He brought it close so that it lightly clattered against the metal. The duke maintained his composure, but the brunette failed with a perceptible change of face and another jerk of the chain. The hyena snarled, expressing her displeasure to her mistress.

"Cinnabar," said the Duke. "Stone blood."

"Yes, mercury stone," the foreman clarified. "Below Meinhardt are abandoned tunnels that have been broken through to mature wine. It's led to rich deposits of Cinnabar, which were not fully excavated before the Disaster. And these are old catacombs. They remain unchanged, unaffected by alteration. You will not become a monopolist in the "stone blood" market, but you will be able to transport it profitably. And everyone needs mercury. It can even be extracted right at the place of extraction. Slate will do without firewood. Your ships will carry pure goods."

The Duke thought for a moment rubbing his thumb over his index finger. The blonde was still standing like a statue. The brunette looked at Kai as if he owed her an enormous debt.

"And you can certainly get rid of me," the foreman agreed, taking a breath with an unspoken suggestion. "But why? You can't, and you won't do business in the Wastelands by yourself. You'll need people who know everything and everyone here who will solve all the problems of the partnership on the spot, guaranteeing turnover. You won't find anyone better than us."

"Again, I'm still not convinced," the Duke said slowly, separating each word. "But I must admit, you intrigue me."

He thought again. The blond stroked the golden claws with her free hand, slowly, one might even say, with perverse sensuality. The dark-haired woman stared at Kai with the same silent tension, her gaze full of malice.

"I think we'll keep the old plan you suggested for now," the Duke summarized. "The one we discussed through my son's mediation. A ship will be waiting for your company in ten days in the harbor you mentioned."

"I'll take the routiers with me, the ones I'll hire myself," Santelli reminded him. "And ... Kai will stay ashore.

"As you wish," the merchant nobleman grumbled irritably. "And I recommend you not to overestimate the importance of Kai as a hostage. Of course, a firstborn son is dear to every father's heart. However, my only son left the family of his own free will, disregarding love and gifts. One might say he rejected loving hands."

"Tentacles of an octopus," Kai muttered quietly.

"So if the promises are true," the Duke said as if he hadn't heard. "You have nothing to fear. And if you have lied even a little, nothing can save you."

It sounded very mundane, without any emphasis. And that made it really scary. But the Duke continued:

"When you arrive, we will discuss the details of a possible contract. And the party that will conduct all the necessary research on site, particularly regarding cinnabar. You don't expect me to buy a rat in a bag, do you?"

"No, of course not."

"That's good. One last thing. We will not meet again."

"Uh..." Santelli was confused.

"There's no need for that," the Old Duke grinned with a look of absolute superiority. The painting will be accepted by my youngest daughter, and she will give you the agreed-upon reward. That is, of course, if it is indeed an original work by Guerion."

The brunette turned her gaze from Kai to Santelli. It made the brigadier want to spit, so much the arrogant contempt in her gaze.

"As for the joint venture, all further negotiations you will conduct with my middle daughter. She is in charge of shipping and related business."

The masked woman shook her head and clawed again. She never uttered a word, but Santelli had an unpleasant, astringent feeling in her bosom. It was as if his dark eyes were stealing bits of life force from him, and his claws were ready to pierce his stomach, pulling at his insides.

"As you wish," the foreman agreed. He felt immensely tired, most of all mentally. Too much to do in one day. And there was still a whole night ahead, most likely full of danger.

"And one more thing," remarked the Duke at last. "Destroy the mirror. Smash it into the smallest shards. No one must know what was here."

He didn't condescend to say goodbye. The mirror's smoothness grew dim all at once. Dark silhouettes could be seen in the depths of the polish for a few moments, and then they were gone, too.

The three negotiators looked at each other. Kai couldn't get the angry look off his face as if he'd been slandered in public. Bisщ's hands, lips, bags under his eyes, and every other part of his body under his vest were shaking. Sweat rolled down his face, leaving glistening streaks.

"Done," exhaled Santelli. "It's done..."

Kai sighed and took a step toward the mirror, raising his sword.

Neither the alchemist nor the foreman noticed the shadow lurking at the base of the glass pyramid. A flap of impenetrable darkness, devoid of shape, which literally spread across the base of the supporting frame, greedily absorbing the sounds in the studio with its entire surface.

* * *
 
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