Castle on the Raven Mountain. Book 1

I wish they hadn't done that. The captain did not drown his grief in wine, did not blame his wife for everything, who did not look after her daughter, and beat his fists in his chest. No. He went to his soldiers and asked them:

"Brothers, how long will these damned wizards torment us?"

He said a lot more. First— to the guards, and then to the townspeople, who listened attentively to him. And in the evening, the people, led by the captain, tore down the tower where the "Goblet of Night" lived, brick by brick, and burned its inhabitants to all the demons.

And, remarkably, none of the townspeople died. And the curse didn't fall on anyone's head. The magicians just died screaming on poles in flames, and that was it.

Such news travels fast, and people who are tired of fear easily assimilate what is beneficial to them.

Bonfires were lit everywhere — in big cities and small villages, in mountain villages and forest towns. The people began to destroy magicians so famously that they didn't even really understand whether they were black or light? A wizard? Come to the bonfire!

At the same time, internecine wars stopped by themselves, some even said that it was the magicians who fanned them. It is possible that this was actually the case. At some point, it got to the point that, almost for the first time since the beginning of time, magicians of all faiths gathered for one common council. What kind of squabbles and old grudges are there, when the probability of complete extermination of the wizards.

The lords of men were also called to this council, the very ones who had recently eaten from the palm of the magicians' hand. And they were more than confident now.

And already ordinary people put up an unaffordable bill to the magicians, which they had to pay in exchange for their lives. Or, alternatively, accept it and no longer claim anything in this world. The magicians chose the latter, they were simply left with no choice.

In fact, this is how the Age of Troubles ended. The borders of the kingdoms were defined again, although there were much more states than before, but these are small things. New kings sat on their thrones, and magically ungifted people became the true masters of the continent. Well, the wizards got the right to life and a number of responsibilities that could not be avoided. Magicians were forbidden to hold any significant positions in the state. That was the price of their slowness and arrogance.

And then there was the Order of Truth. An organization that made sure that the owners of the magical gift did not allow themselves anything superfluous.

No, there was no talk of any total control over the magicians, but from now on they always remembered that the door to their tower, castle or just a house could collapse at some point, strong silent people in black robes would enter the empty doorway, and then everything would be very bad. Then there will be a barbed rope, a rough tree behind your back, and smoke that bursts your chest, making you cough uncontrollably. And then the pain until death. And no one will listen to them, because there will be nothing to say — their tongue will be torn out immediately, even in the house.

And there is no escape from this. A wizard is a wizard, but he is one, and there are many ordinary people. Even if he's good at combat magic, it won't save him. At the very least, he'll just be overwhelmed with bodies, that's all. And in a confined space, with your hands tied and your tongue torn out, you can't do much magic.

Decades passed, life on the continent settled down, the horrors of the Century of Troubles were slowly forgotten. The magicians gradually regained their positions in society (although they were no longer allowed to come to power, this rule was unshakable), and the servants of the order began to engage in side business. For example, they opened schools for the children of the poor, fed the homeless, and cultivated a healthy lifestyle among the population. But they had not forgotten their main business, for which the order was created, and therefore the dark ritual mentioned by the magician could not pass them by, the bloodhound brothers had their own ways of finding out about such things.

And with a high degree of probability, very soon this magician would have to answer the questions of his mentor father. Why did he kill these people? And why did he summon the soul of one of them from the Dark Reaches? And isn't he plotting to create an army of the undead to overthrow the legitimate government in this kingdom?

"Your truth," the magician sighed. "I'll explain myself, but how long will it take! Although now I have it. No, well, it's a shame — they were just too late, just a minute earlier, and the baron would still be alive. Here it is, minus tracking spells — they point the direction correctly, but they are completely useless on the ground.

"Master, let's talk to this young man." They grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me out from under the rotten boards, where I hid at the moment when the magician first appeared on the threshold. "Maybe he can tell us something that we don't know?"

Agrippa's strength was incredible. He held me at arm's length, not straining at all. Although I'm not as obese as my friend Bubuka, I'm still not a chicken feather that doesn't weigh anything.

"Come on." The magician came up to me. "Come on's, young man. And what is your name?"

"Kostezhog ," I replied immediately. "Kostezhog from the Port Quarter. I was just spending the night here, and as soon as they arrived, I immediately hid. This is the first time I've ever seen them. The truth is the truth."

"What is remarkable, Agrippa," The magician said to his companion, "He's holding up very, very well. And he says so... Confident, maybe. Well done."

The magician looked at me thoughtfully from head to toe. I did the same thing.

The wizard was very old, much older than I had first thought. He must have been two hundred years old, if not more. They magicians live a very long time. Mentor Jock told me that they can live forever if they are not killed.

But they die the same way as ordinary people, if they are dealt a blow with knowledge. In the heart or in the head. But you must definitely beat to death, so that they don't have time to put a curse on you.

"So who are you?" The magician asked me in a suspiciously friendly manner. "Just tell me your real name. Let's not waste our time together."

"What's your name?" Agrippa shook me without sentiment. "What are you doing?"

"Chris," I grumbled reluctantly, realizing that I shouldn't lie this time. For some reason, I knew for sure that lying would turn out badly for me. "Chris is a Bug. I am a student of Master thief Jock Three-Eyes."

"What names, Agrippa," the magician sighed. "And where are these names used? In the kingdom of Forscheid, the very place where the great art of blank verse originated two hundred years ago. No, the decline in morals is simply terrifying."

"That's a good name," I muttered. "What is it that you don't like?"

"Talk some more." They shook me without much pity.

"Discussion is great." The magician grabbed my chin with unexpectedly strong and cold fingers and stared into my eyes. "Why did you kill that young man over there? Who ordered you to do this? Who hired you?"

"I don't know!" I wanted to howl out loud. I really didn't know that, but I couldn't give the magician any proof of my words. "Go, the one who sent you before he died, told me to lure this noble into an alley, and there he himself received him, along with his chapel."

"A chapel?" The magician frowned.

"Well yeah" I looked around. "She's all over there... lying around."

"A gang," Agrippa explained. "There are so many cities, so many names. Keep talking."

And they shook me again. Dear Lionella, how strong he is! He's been holding me at arm's length for so long, and at least he's crying.

"I lost at dice Go two weeks ago." I immediately continued. "I still have to. It would be nice to have money, otherwise it's not theirs, but the business. It's one thing. Gambling duty is sacred, so there was nowhere else to go. Well, I lured your boyfriend into the alley. I can do that, it's part of my profession."

"The young baron was smart and careful," The magician noticed. "Besides— what could a ragamuffin like you possibly be interested in? Well, not whores, right?"

"I cut off his purse," I said with a sigh. "And I let him notice me. This is our usual trick. A man runs after you, gets into one of the alleys of the Port Quarter, and there he is... But I didn't know that Go was going to kill him! I thought they'd strip him as usual, maybe hit him on the head with a stick to make him sour. If I'd known they were planning a murder, I wouldn't have signed up for this case for any money!"

"And gambling debt?" Agrippa laughed. "Isn't he a holy cause?"

"Duty to duty is different. I'm a thief, my job is to clean other people's pockets, not poke people in the belly with a piece of iron. Fat Go was also a thief, I don't know why he decided to commit murder."

Well, I lied a little bit about the hardware and the belly. No, I've never killed anyone, but if it were my life, I don't know how it would have turned out.

"So you don't know anything at all?" The magician ignored my words. "Besides what I've already told you."

"Well yeah" I nodded. "They twisted your baron's arms in the alley, gagged him with a rag, and dragged him here. And me, too, before I could grease my heels. I think if it wasn't for you, they would have killed me too, so thank you guys for your help."

"He's cunning." The magician laughed. "Agrippa, we're like his saviors now, we don't have the moral right to take his life. And I definitely like him."

The magician approached the corpse of his acquaintance and shook his head:

"But what do we do now? The Baron is dead, all plans are ruined. What should I tell my colleagues?"

He poked at the pool of already clotted blood that had flowed from the corpse with the toe of his boot, tilted his head to his shoulder, examined the deceased, and then turned to us.

"Agrippa, let our new friend go." I finally felt the floor under my feet. It was nice.

"The height is the same." The magician looked me up and down thoughtfully. "Outwardly, yes, nothing in common, but height and build... More than enough."

"Master, this is a crazy idea." Agrippa snorted. "Where's the baron, and where's that ragamuffin from the docks? They don't even write that in ladies' novels, and they're an encyclopedia of nonsense."

"So don't read them," the magician advised him. "Well, yes, it's a dubious idea, but it's still better than nothing."

"Master, we can still make it to Lisiy Bor." Agrippa went over to the magician and said, "Let's find a better copy there, I don't think your friend Antiochus will refuse you such a favor."

"And I will be in his debt", The magician frowned. — Yes, debt is still okay, but he will know about what I'm up to. And not everyone is telling him that. And the most important thing is if I hire his student for our business...."

"Then he will tell Master Antioch everything first, and only then — to you," Agrippa continued. "I admit, I said something stupid."

"It doesn't matter if he tells him everything first." The magician said sententiously. "The trouble is that I will only receive the information that Antiochus deigns to give me, and he will dose it for sure. Friendship is friendship when people are on the same level and there is nothing between them that distinguishes one from the other. Any difference sooner or later makes this friendship either a patronage or a rivalry."

"That was great," I said sincerely. "It went straight to the bone."

"Boy, you drop it." Agrippa advised me. "You can't fool my master with flattery, believe me. If he decides to send you over the Edge, he will do it. If he wants to let go, he'll let go. Regardless of whether you're going to butter up to him or not."

"Yes, I am like that." The magician looked at Agrippa. "You know, I'm still inclined to think about trying to use it."

"Master, I keep saying that he's a baron, just like I'm a bandmaster," Agrippa persisted.

"Explain yourself," the magician suggested.

And then I realized: if Agrippa wins, most likely, I will be, as he put it, "sent over the Edge." It's a beautiful phrase, but it's very, very unpleasant for me. That's just the way it's going to be. It is unlikely that this very smart magician would mention his plans and any names in the presence of someone who would then be able to tell someone. He just didn't even take me into account. And why should he be afraid? What would someone ask of him for the death of a homeless boy thief?

"Okay, so are height and build. But the appearance?" Agrippa began, and the magician, bending one finger, immediately answered him:

"And who knows the Baron by sight? And who has ever seen him? Not even like that. Tell me, who has seen at least one baron from the Forest Region in the blessed duchy of Himmelstein, where you and I were taking our deceased friend? These barons, even in the neighboring royal courts from the Forest Edge, do not know what to say about their children. And ours was not even an heir, but a third son. Remember, his dad almost kissed my hands when I picked him up. And he said goodbye to him in such a way that it was clear that they would not see each other again in this life.

"Okay." Agrippa nodded. "And the manners? Where is the baron, and where is this?"

"One is no different from the other." The Magician laughed "The barons from the outskirts are no better than the savages. You were the first to get upset when you saw how their dogs were licking their plates. It's generally debatable who has better manners. It seems to me that the thief from the capital of a fairly enlightened kingdom knows more than the baron from the bear corner. Another topic is literacy. That's right. Our confidant could read and write, but this Mr. Bug..."

"I can do that!" I almost clapped my hands. "And read and write! I know a little about the common language, and Falconese, and even the runes of the Ice Islands!"

"What are you saying!" The magician was delighted. "That's how it is! No, Egibert the Fifth is still a good king, he cares about the universal education of his subjects. Even the thieves on the streets know how to read and write."

"It worries me more than it pleases me. Agrippa noticed with a frown, and I was grabbed by the collar again. "Okay, a common language, but how does this rascal know Falconese, and even more so runes, even if only a little?"

They had a common language, and it was spoken by the whole of Ragellon, from the Southern Ocean to the Forest Region, but not everyone really knew Falconese. It was the language of the elves, who from time immemorial had lived in their closed kingdom on the eastern tip of the continent. And the runes of the Nordligs from the islands were rarely used.