The knight, the dragon and the necromancer. Daert dilogy-1

— Close their portal, — Jeanne added. In contrast to the knight, the black-haired woman seemed more enthusiastic — as far as one could tell from her face.

— Now, this one was probably already done. — The red-haired donna tilted her head to her shoulder. — Remember when Don Marius met with my bailiff friends and a group of imperial mercenaries?

— Yes. — The young man stopped chewing his lip. — There were bailiffs, my cousin and her dragon, and half a dozen Imperials. An elven lady from the Empire told me all about the strangers. They were... travelling towards a certain fortress in the mountains...

— Where the portal to the other world is located, — the necromancer continued for him. — They were going to close it.

— But could they? — Jeanne asked, not trying to hide her scepticism. — A place like this should be well guarded.

— We may soon find out. — Rosa's mentor came forward again, her elbows resting on the edge of the table. — Some time ago, informants across the river brought me word. A certain extremely important prisoner is being taken to the camp of the King's army. He is travelling from where the fortress with the portal is located. Under low guard, in great secrecy.

— Do you think it's someone from that group? — Rosa suggested. — The ones Marius had met?

— Yeah. They got to the target, and one of them got caught. That doesn't mean anything in itself; you can get captured while covering the retreat of your companions after a successful attack. — The red-haired donna's voice seemed to faintly quiver, but she quickly pulled herself together. — Maybe it's Don Armando, or maybe it's that elven officer. Either way, such a prisoner is a treasure trove of information for both Auguste and us.

— And the three of us will get him out, — Jeanne stated simply.

— Two, — the necromancer corrected her. — Don Marius will provide transport, but he will not go to Auguste's camp. The Dragon Knights all know each other, so he wouldn't want to run into someone he knew.

— But... but... — Now Rosa was truly confused. Before she could find the words, Jeanne spoke again:

— I, too, am a valuable witness. And milord knight. Will you risk us?

— I have no choice, — Vittoria said reluctantly. She took off her spectacles, took a cloth from her sleeve, and rubbed the lenses. — None of the marshal's men are fit for delicate work, and my informers will not risk their skin. I trust you more than anyone, and your talents are a good match. Maybe you'd make a good team for special assignments.

There was a heavy silence in the tent. Rosa met Jeanne's eyes, and she nodded. The warrior seemed satisfied. Don Marius was biting his lip, staring blankly at the wall behind the redheaded donna. He was definitely torn with doubt.

— I don't think Jeanne and the noble don need an additional motive, — the necromancer said when the pause became awkward. — Revenge and saving the world are not bad enough. For you, Rosa, I suggest you consider this assignment as payment for my mentorship. You can refuse, and I will rely on Jeanne alone. But you and I will have to part. If you agree, I'll teach you as much as you need without asking for anything in return. It seems to me that you will quickly become more of a colleague than a pupil to me, and such an equal relationship between us will be more natural.

— It is blackmail, milady. — Vittoria's last words made her chest warm, but she shifted her eyebrows, trying to imitate Jeanne's grimace.

— Oh, come on. — The red-haired donna put on her glasses and smiled. — It's a bargain, because I'm offering a lot in return.

— Then... I'll take it. — Rosa exhaled, collapsing back in her chair. The girl knew she would regret what she had said, but... after all, she had stayed here to see history unfold with her own eyes. And now she was offered to dive headfirst into the events, learning what remained a mystery to many.

— Then I agree as well, — the dragon knight say.

— And me. — Jeanne folded the palms of her black leather gloved hands in her lap.

And Rosa suddenly realised that it was all a trap. The necromancer had secured the consent of the girl and her companions. The knight and the warrior would not let Rosa go across the river alone. Well, another note for the future — to learn from her mentor not only magic techniques....

Chapter 10

They crossed the river late at night, downstream from the king's camp. Jeanne and Marius wielded poles to guide the small raft, while Rosa held a pair of tightly rolled bales to keep the contents from getting wet. When the women had disembarked in the reeds on the other bank, the young knight caught Rosa's hand and said, looking into her eyes:

— If you're not in the right place by the agreed hour, Toad and I will follow you. I don't care what Donna Vittoria says.

— Don't do anything foolish, milord. — She knew Marius well enough to believe that he would do just that. She covered his hand with her own. — If Jeanne and I are caught, it won't help. You'll die for nothing.

— Well, don't give me an excuse, signora. — The moon peeked out from behind a cloud, and Rosa saw that the young man was smiling. — Take care of yourself.

After handing the bales to Jeanne, the knight pushed off the shore with his pole and disappeared into the night. Rose took one bale from the maid, unwrapped it, and shook out its contents, a nun's robe. The white cloak was a spacious white hooded cloak, embroidered with the symbols of the Creator in black thread. Jeanne had received the same one. Rosa's cloak was wrapped in a travelling bag on a long strap. The women wear their cloaks over their usual costumes, the sorceress hung the bag on her shoulder and put on long white gloves, the sign of a healer. A couple of minutes later, two travelling nuns emerged from the coastal thickets. A young medicine woman with round spectacles and her taller friend. Together they walked northwards. The lights of the military camp were barely visible on the horizon, the only light coming from the moon and stars peering at the earth through the gaps in the clouds. There was a clammy, unsettling silence. Rosa felt like jumping up and down with excitement, and to distract herself she began to recall her last conversation with her mentor. Vittoria had invited them to her tent just before sunset for some final instructions.

— The prisoner seems to have arrived at Auguste's army, — she said as Luca pulled back the canopy behind them. — He will probably be housed somewhere out of the way, so as not to attract attention. There will be few guards, for the same reason.

— But how do we find the right place in a huge camp? — Rosa asked.

— We'll walk around the outskirts and look in suspicious tents, — Jeanne suggested in a completely serious tone. — Maybe we can search five or six before everyone freaks out and kills us.

Instead of answering, the red-haired donna tapped her fingernail on the tabletop. A small grey mouse climbed up the table leg and sat on the back of her hand. It tilted its head, flashing its beady black eyes. Opened its mouth.

— Rosa, would you be so kind as to give me your hair, — the necromancer asked.

To her shame, the student hesitated for a second before pulling a long hair from a strand on her temple and holding it out to her mentor. Necromancer put it in the mouse's mouth. Gently she took the rodent with two fingers, turned it over. Rosa saw a flat bone button on the animal's belly. The red-haired donna undid the button and... opened the mouse.

— It's a necroconstruct! — The girl couldn't contain her surprise. — But I don't feel magic in it!

— A tiny charge of energy is distributed throughout the mouse's body, — the necromancer explained with a satisfied smile. — Completely indistinguishable from the natural background. Even to your eyes, my dear.

— That kind of charge would be enough... for a very short time. — Rosa wove her fingers together and apart, trying to see at least a spark of magical light beneath the necromouse's grey pelt.

— It doesn't take much. — Vittoria put the mouse on the table. — My raven will deliver the construct and the note to the informant at the king's camp. The informant will ascertain the prisoner's position and place the note with the necessary information in the mouse. Then leave it outside the hospital. I've enchanted the mouse with a sympathetic spell. It will follow the person whose hair it holds in its mouth. Find a reason to be near the hospital and watch your step. My baby will come running as soon as she smells you. All you have to do is go somewhere quieter and get a piece of paper out of her. Bring the mouse, too. I'm gonna need it.

"Someday I'll be able to do that," Rosa thought now, holding the strap of her travelling bag on her shoulder. The mouse-construct was an example of a magician's fine workmanship. A work of art. Her innate power allowed Vittoria to move objects with a glance and light fires with a snap of her fingers, but for such a masterpiece, skill and knowledge were far more important. And Rosa would acquire them one day. She just have to try.

The spies skirted the king's camp in a wide arc and made their way to the road far to the north. They waited until dawn and stood on the roadside. Jeanne thought that they would not have to wait long — the army may carry a lot of things with it, but if it stays in one place for weeks, it is necessary to bring supplies. The sullen warrior's calculations were justified. In about an hour the first cart pulled by a gaunt red horse appeared on the road. The cart was loaded with baskets of apples, and a remarkably muscular and bald middle-aged peasant sat in the front. The driver stopped the cart in front of the women and asked them in a friendly manner:

— Sisters, north or south?

— On our way with you, good man, — Rosa smiled at him, pulling back her hood. She made sure the man noticed the white gloves.

— Are you going to the king? — The peasant hummed and glanced at the "nuns". He could see nothing suspicious — men's jackets and boots, visible under their cloaks, were worn by travelling healers of both sexes. Hunting knives, which Jeanne and Rosa had openly hung from their belts, were a must-have for any traveller, much less a physician. The cloaks looked rather shabby and dusty.

— We were treating the sick in a village nearby, and we heard that there had been a big battle, — Rosa explained as she stopped smiling. — That's right, a lot of people will need our help.

— One bless you for your kindness, sisters. — The man made the sign. — Sit down, we'll ride together.

Waiting until the travellers had climbed into the cart, the peasant let the horse pace and said, looking over his shoulder:

— They say you think better on the road. I won't distract you with chitchat.

— Thank you, — Rosa said quite sincerely. — What is your name, good man? I will pray for you.

— Dominic I am, sister. — The charioteer shook his head. — Pray for all the Dominics, if you can, or the One will not know....

Donna Vittoria was not wrong in saying that the delay was to the plan's advantage. After the lost battle, even on the second day, the king's camp was in turmoil and disorder. A couple of nuns who arrived with a cart of apples, no one simply did not notice. Moreover, when Rosa herself tried to pester the first soldiers with questions, she was not honoured with an answer. In the end, Jeanne unceremoniously grabbed a stableman by the arm and pushed him towards her partner.

— Hey, what are you doing... — the poor guy started, but met the woman's eyes and stopped talking. The student hurried to take the initiative:

— Sir, I am a healer from the Order of St Simeon. Where is your hospital?

— Which one? — The stable boy asked glumly, stopping his lashing out.

— What do you mean? — Rosa didn't understand.

— There are three large hospitals in the camp. They're all full after the battle.

The scouts looked at each other. Donna Vittoria spoke as if there were only one hospital in Auguste's camp. Perhaps she was judging from the Loyalist army, but the king had more soldiers and healers.

— I'll visit all three, — the girl decided. — Where are they?

The stableman dryly explained the way and hurried away, rubbing his hand — Jeanne's grip was ironclad.

— There's no point in splitting up, — Rosa said to her gloomy companion. — I'll have to really go through all the hospitals. If we're lucky, we'll find a mouse in the first one.

— She'll be in the last one, — Jeanne said without a shadow of a doubt. — Discharged and crushed by someone. It's always like that.

The hospital they first heard and then smelled. Still, it did little to prepare Rosa for what she soon saw. There was no building, or even a tent, of course — just a trampled square with several long awnings of coarse cloth. Straw was piled under the sheds, and right on top of it lay the wounded, covered with thin blankets at best. Among them walked women with wooden pails, looking terribly tired. Occasionally one of them would lean over a wounded man to wipe his forehead with a damp cloth and give him a drink. She didn't see any healers, let alone mages. Unless there was a lone tent at the far end of the square with a wooden Creator's Symbol at the entrance, the medics could be resting there. Or it was a ward for the wealthier wounded. The noble dons preferred to treat their wounds in their own tents, but some of the veteran soldiers might have saved up money just for such an occasion to pay the healers.

— Hold on, madame, — Jeanne whispered in the girl's ear. The student probably turned a little green. — Remember, these are the enemy.

Enemies? Rosa did not yet recognise herself as one of the parties to the conflict, and so far her enemies had been those who had tried to harm her directly. Nomadic robbers, soldiers on the battlefield... Perhaps, after Donna Vittoria's revelations, she considered King Auguste and his alien allies an enemy as well. But these men... Helpless, maimed, abandoned by everyone, even their own commanders... Are they enemies? Some of them may have patrolled the streets of Daert when Rose lived there and studied.

The young sorceress walked slowly across the square. Pretending to look at the people on the ground, she looked for the grey ball of a mouse-construct under her feet. The mouse was nowhere to be seen, but one of the wounded men caught her attention. A young man was lying not directly in the straw, but on a thin and dilapidated mattress, covered with a real blanket instead of a piece of rag. At his feet sat two soldiers, either shooter or pikemen without armour. The older of them, a moustachioed man, who had already begun to grey, suddenly stood up in a hurry and stepped towards the women. He said uncertainly: