Novel 3. The Last Autumn

— That is not a magic item?

— That's right, — de Gorazzo nodded. There was tension in the Erdosian's voice, and Armando realised that he had won the first round. — It is a mechanical device. It's also not a weapon, as I said. We left the weapons in the courtyard.

Kero took a silver bell from the table and rang it. The servant bowed silently and went out with his back to the front of the room. Armando cast a questioning glance at Lady Maria. The guardswoman smiled reassuringly at him and waggled her chin almost imperceptibly. So there was nothing threatening in the order given.

— If you'll excuse me. — Sir Kero stood up. — I must leave you for a while. Tea will be right away.

— I hope he went to ask eighth and seventh sons for advice, — Master Carlon said in a low voice when the mercenaries were alone in the room. — Not to assemble a strike force to arrest us.

— So far, everything's going according to plan. — Armando handed the alien lantern back to Maria. He didn't add anything else out loud; they were sure to be overheard.

It took an hour to wait for the master's return. In that time the men had emptied a pot of herbal tea and devoured a tray of rice cakes with a strange sour sauce. Lady Maria politely refused to eat — the habits of a bodyguard, Armando decided to himself. When the well-fed de Gorazzo began to feel sleepy, the door of the study opened. Without entering the room, sir Kero looked round at the guests and said:

— I'd like to see the workings of a trophy weapon before we continue this conversation. Lady Elena told me that in the box you brought the gun and its loads. There's a firing range in the back of this house, would that work?

— Yes, sir. — Armando stood up, his legs stiff from sitting on the ottoman. He noted with envy that the bearded mage and the Lady Guard had no such problem. — Would the noise of gunfire attract attention?

— No, our guards have arquebuses. They often practise with them. Come.

The elongated backyard was lit by dim oil lamps on man-sized poles. Night had finally fallen, and silver stars dotted the velvet-black sky, free of clouds. Somewhere nearby a cricket sang. A group of men had gathered around the wooden barrier blocking the courtyard. All of them wore armour except one, a bald, elderly man with a long, floppy moustache. The mustachioed man wore a traditional Erdos dressing gown of blue silk, with the clan crest on his chest. He wore a warm cloak of Iolian fashion over the dressing gown.

Armando poked Carlon with an elbow in the side:

— The man without armour... That's Ryuu.

— Chancellor?

— Yep. So this is who we've been waiting for.

Armando felt a surge of enthusiasm. If the Chancellor's ninth son had not informed eighth son of their visit, but his father himself, and the latter had turned up in person, it meant that they were seriously interested in their story. The only thing left to do was to direct this interest in the right direction and turn it to their advantage.

They had a target prepared for them — an old iron breastplate, already punctured in a couple of places by the bullets. The gun box lay open on the ground. It was guarded not by sailors from the "Elena", but by Clan soldiers. Maria nodded to her companions and stepped forward. Getting down on one knee, she pulled a rifle out of a drawer. Not her favourite rifle with a telescopic sight, but another — shorter and more massive, capable of firing bullets in a fan. Four soldiers surrounded the girl, ready to bring her down and disarm her at any suspicious movement. It was as if the Lady Guardsman didn't even notice. She straightened up, pulled up her thick leather gloves to her elbows, adjusted the collar of her black jacket, and switched some lever on the gun case. Putting the barrel of the outlandish weapon on the barrier's crossbar, the lady took a slow aim and pressed the trigger. Three shots merged into one. And three more, and three more. The breastplate shook from the hits. The wooden pole holding it broke after the fourth round, and the target crumbled to dust with a clang. Maria stepped back, dropping the smoking gun.

— I still... hate that sound, — master Carlon muttered under his breath. His whisper sounded surprisingly loud in the silence.

One of the guards ran for the breastplate and brought it to the Chancellor. The first man of the Republic looked for a moment at the sieve into which the iron plate had turned, then with a wave of his hand he invited the guests to approach. He said as they approached:

— You never know what a new evening will bring you. Tonight after sundown, I had planned to finish my paperwork at the palace early and have a nice time with a glass of wine. But lo and behold, here you are. I gather from your terse words that you don't think my son is a worthy listener. Would the taiko of the Republic and the head of the clan be willing to hear your whole story?

Armando portrayed the elegant courtly bow he saved for special occasions:

— I'm sorry if I've offended you in any way, sir. But what I'm about to tell you is really not for everyone's ears. You must hear it first, and then decide which of your men to tell. I'm afraid we'll be talking for a long time.

— I see. — Sir Ryuu squinted his eyes and twirled the tip of his moustache. — Well, let's go back to the house.

The clan leader's office was nestled under the roof, and it looked a little deserted; taiko probably spent more time in his residence than in the clan mansion. But the unnaturally clean room was furnished in the Daertian manner, with chairs instead of ottomans, massive wardrobes against the walls, and a normal oak desk under the window.

— It's all from our own wood, — the chancellor told the guests as he walked to the table. — Just as the Tagawa rule the iron, so the Irutawa own the ship's timber. Sit down.

Once in his seat, Don de Gorazzo looked around quickly. Taiko had not brought his bodyguards, but Armando would have bet that there were secret doors behind the cabinets and hidden loopholes in the ceiling.

— So? — Ryuu looked questioningly at Armando. He hesitated for a moment. It was his turn to drop another bomb, and de Gorazzo felt a prick of fear. Valria and Carlon doubted whether it was worth the risk, but Armando insisted. Having prepared the ground for negotiations, having aroused the curiosity of potential allies, the former bailiff planned to shock them with the purest truth — presented, of course, in the right light. Alas, the only way to tell the story of the company truthfully was to reveal the truth about himself.

— I'll start by introducing myself. — Don coughed, taking a moment to control his voice. — My full real name is Armando de Gorazzo. I am a former royal bailiff of the Daertian crown.

— The Queen's murderer, — Chancellor Irutava said in a perfectly even voice.

— No, — Armando said, allowing himself a little harshness in his tone. — Witness to a murder.

It was light outside the window when the don finished his story. Armando had a splitting headache and a sore throat, and his companions, who were also in the conversation, looked equally exhausted. Sir Ryuu sat motionless with his chin resting on his intertwined fingers. He was silent for a long time. A long time. Just until one of the people present rumbled in their stomachs. Taiko grinned:

— I think it's breakfast time.

He was answered only by the tense stares of his guests. The Chancellor leaned back in his chair:

— Well, you can consider me convinced of the existence of aliens. It's a crazy story, but it makes sense. Your words coincide with some of the observations of our people on the continent. We've heard about the research funded by the Iolians in Daert for a long time. And these trophies... But the alien connection to the Tagawa clan... Requires serious proof. Any action I take against the Tagawa could lead to civil war in the Republic, you realise that, don't you?

— Of course, — De Gorazzo nodded.

— The burden of proof is on the accuser, — Taiko quoted a line from the laws of the Kingdom of Daert. He looked intently into Armando's eyes.

— I have a plan, — the don replied simply, hearing Captain Valria's laughter in his head. And laid before the Chancellor the last trump card he had saved for today...

Chapter 11

— Would you like me to ask Valria to buy you a new sword at company expense? — Sergeant Dallan asked as she watched Armando fix the blade with an hone. — This weapon seems to mean a lot to you, but it's best not to rely on it in battle. It's from your family, isn't it?

— Yep. — The former bailiff grinned, tasting the blade with his fingernail. — Forged for my grandfather by my great-grandfather. Hung over the mantelpiece at the de Gorazzo estate for nearly a hundred years. When I travelled to the capital to seek royal service, I took it with me. You couldn't come unarmed, and a spear on your shoulder or a carpenter's axe at your belt would give the wrong impression. Money was only enough for a scabbard. Thank you, Sergeant, I won't refuse. But is it worth it? The captain's going to give me a hard time about it.

— She's won't. I know how to handle her. — The green-eyed girl squinted slyly, a shadow of a smile on her lips. Armando shook his head — it was unusual to see Dallan like this. However, as her elf friend recovered, the sergeant was losing her usual sullenness. Don had even heard her singing softly to herself once while she was fiddling with her gear.

Suddenly, a forward lookout shouted from the "crow's nest". Dallan looked up, and Armando rose from the steps of the quarterdeck, pocketing the hone. Elena, the navigator, ran down the stairs past him, giving commands as she went. The dark-haired elf barely raised her voice, but she could be heard throughout the ship. The caravel stood against the wind, the sails retracted, and the sailors jumped from the foredeck as frightened mice.

— The scout is coming back, — de Gorazzo voiced the obvious. A few minutes later, a small black-and-red dragon descended onto the cleared front platform. The rider leapt from its back, a stubby young man of fourteen, wearing a leather jacket with a fur collar and tight trousers. He pulled his fur-lined leather helmet off his head and stretched out in front of Elena, bowed to her, and said something in Erdos. The elven woman bowed briefly in return and turned to the passengers:

— The schooner landed three men with several bags. She left immediately. A large galley approaches from the west. Mamoru arrives to report, Akira stays in the air, watching.

— Excellent. — Don de Gorazzo grinned gloatingly. — It's marvellous. It's rare for things to go as planned for so long. Tell the captain it's time to move out. Dallan, fetch sir Yuriev, if you would.

Armando's entire plan was based on a very unreliable foundation — trust in a defector. Along with a pile of weapons and camping equipment, the mercenaries had received a radio. The device, which allowed outsiders to communicate at a distance, was too complex for even Carlon to master in a couple of weeks. Not to mention the fact that it could only be used to communicate with enemies. But Captain Valria, suffering from enforced inactivity, decided to take the risk after all. Nobody in the alien camp knew yet that one of their fighters had changed sides. That's why Alex, sitting at the radio, could quietly listen to the negotiations of his now former comrades-operatives. That's what he was doing after leaving Irnitsk. Among the overheard found little interesting, but one conversation Armando was interested. Field groups of outsiders were fleeing the continent. One of them had boarded a smugglers' schooner in the port of Varlahan. Command had given them some sort of coordinates for a "rendezvous". Elena, the navigator, kindly checked the numbers against the map and found only an uninhabited piece of rock sticking out of the sea away from the large islands of the Erdos Archipelago. It could hardly be the site of a new alien base. Rather, the operatives were to be taken from there. Either by flying machine or by a ship of local allies. Armando bet on the latter — and he was right. The former judicial official had structured his entire conversation with the Irutava clan leaders in such a way that he would be required to prove the cooperation of outsiders with people inside the Republic. After all, he knew in advance where to get such proof — the schooner had to reach the destination of its voyage two days later than the "Elena".

— I wanted to escape from the hold myself, — grumbled sir Yuriev, coming out on deck and stretching. — It's terribly boring down below, and no one wants to play cards with me. Except your little elfess, but I'm not out of my mind yet. Playing cards with an elf! Pfft!

— I think you'll soon have some good entertainment, sir, — Don de Gorazzo assured him. Boyarin Yuriev Genji had every right to call Valria "little" — the bearded, one-eyed Virian was a head taller and three times as wide as the pointy-eared girl. If he wanted to, he could put the captain on his shoulder like a tame parrot. In some ways, the Irutava emissary resembled the owner of the "Elena", though he made less noise.

— To look at it from the outside would only hurt my soul. Especially with one eye, — the boyar complained brokenly. With a broad calloused palm he patted the crooked sabre hanging at his belt, which he wore instead of the thin sword of Erdos. — Sir Irutava personally forbade me to get into a fight. He summoned me himself, and said: "Don't you die on me there. If I find out you've been getting shot at, I'll put you to work cleaning the stables. And if you die, I'll bury you in a cesspool." Torture, Don, that's what it is. This whole voyage.

— We do need you alive, sir. — De Gorazzo stood beside Yuriev, leaning against the bulwark. — If all goes well, you'll have plenty of opportunity to fight later.

As taiko had said, the burden of proving guilt fell entirely on the prosecutor. It was up to the mercenaries to capture the prisoners and obtain evidence on their own. For the most part. But the Irutava clan did provide some help. Skipper Dorlt was paid for another voyage from the clan treasury. Ten selected warriors from the Chancellor's personal guard boarded the "Elena" before departure, and two scout dragons caught up with the caravel at sea. Boyarin Yuriev, the Chancellor's trusted man, played the role of an observer, which he was not at all happy about.

— The wind will soon smell like gunpowder, friends, — "Elena's" commander said with a broad smile to the passengers as they gathered on the deck. Only Carlon and Green were absent, guarding Alex, who was sitting at the radio. — At Elena's age, I would have thought that smell was the best in the world. Then there's the smell of burning wood, they go well together.