Novel 1. Mercenary Company "Bright Heads". Full novel

He threw three bloody pieces of metal into the dust. The elf, instantly changing her face, leaned forward and kissed the healer on the cheek. Putting her hat with a feather under Carlon's head, she got up. She found the little lady Emilia among the guards. Approaching her, she asked:

— The guardsman has no family, except for the overlord and the guards, right?

— That's right, — nodded the frail protector of the Duchess. — We are all sisters.

Valria, under the astonished looks of those around her, tore off the gilded buttons from her green waistcoat, put them into the palm of Lady Emilia:

— I owed your sister two silver coins. I don't have any money right now, but...

The guardswoman lowered her eyelids for a moment and nodded. She and the elf understood each other. And Carlon realized that he was a fool. Even at the first meeting with Lady Yana, it seemed to him that he had already seen the armor of a guardsman somewhere. And he really saw that the Dallan cuirass was no different from them, except for the blue pattern. Yes, and this nickname is "Ninth of Eight"... But it turns out that Valria knew?

The magician did not have time to ask this question to the elf — the last sparks of the recent outburst of anger finally burned out in him, and the master lost consciousness.

* * *

— Yana... always seemed awfully strict, — Dallan said in a low voice. The sergeant lay on the bed in her and Valria's cabin, wrapped in warm blankets up to her chin. Carlon and the elf sat side by side on chairs pulled up to the bed, holding glasses of warmed wine. Outside, behind tightly closed windows, the wind was raging and pouring rain.

— But she only seemed to be, — the girl continued, taking a breath. She could not speak for a long time. — Because of the look. Because of the eyes. She had such... you saw. But I knew her intimately. Yana was kind. Caring. She always took care of those who had a hard time. Supported and guided. Yana was born a leader. If there were ranks in the guard, she would become a commander. The lady's guards... have lost a lot. They are all good fighters, but only Yana knew how to... organize them. Without any title, she was simply loved and therefore obeyed.

— May the Creator accept her into his Last Army. — Valria raised her glass, and she and the master drank. Then the elf brought another mug to the sergeant's lips and let the sergeant take a sip. — We will see her again at the End of All Days. We will stand with Yana under one banner.

— Yes. — Dallan said softly and lowered her eyelids. Her breathing became even. The magician and the elf sat in silence, looking first at the wounded woman, then at each other. Two days have passed since the coronation. The Duchess made sure that they were not disturbed, and provided everything for the care of their friend. They themselves did not ask Dallan about anything — and she was in no hurry to tell. It was now clear to Carlon, even without questioning, why she had taken time off from Valria and was following them secretly. Elf — even more so. The fact that the green-eyed swordswoman had once served in the guards of the princess, from where, according to everyone's belief, they go only to the cemetery, struck Carlon. However, he managed to contain his curiosity. Someday, the one who is no longer called Lady Anna will tell him as much as she sees fit. For now, it is enough to know that she is still a loyal comrade.

There was a knock on the door. The magician looked at Valria in surprise and went to open it. The elf, meanwhile, loaded her crossbow and retreated into a dark corner. A sodden messenger was found outside the threshold, accompanied by two equally soaking palace guards.

— For Lady Valria, a package from the palace. Personally in her hands.

Received from the messenger, a round object, wrapped in oiled leather, they hoisted on the table.

— I guess what's in there, — said the visibly cheerful girl.

— Watermelon? Too heavy, in my opinion. — Carlon unraveled the ropes that entangled the bundle, pulled the wrapper off the object. He gasped.

It really was a watermelon. Artfully crafted in silver, a watermelon embellished with stripes of gold foil.

— Why did I save her? — In a whisper, so as not to wake her friend, the elf girl exclaimed.

— Well, we didn't catch the killer. — Carlon grunted, fascinated stroking the miracle watermelon with his fingertips. — They just kicked him out of the city. And we did not deserve the reward we discussed. Think of it as just payment for effort.

— How many times have I told myself not to mess with those in power... — Valria muttered grimly, turning away from the work of art. — I'll chop this thing up tomorrow and sell it piece by piece. And with the proceeds I will buy a cartload of watermelons.

— You'd be better off hiring more people. — Carlon sighed. — We will meet this Peter again, mark my words. But the two of us are not enough against him.

— Ha. — The captain threw back her head and pointed to the bed. — Two — yes. But there are three of us again. I really hope to meet him again...

Part 3. Where all paths converge

Chapter 11

Winter came to Elvart early, pushing autumn almost a month ahead of schedule. Heavy rains were replaced by a gray drizzle that quickly turned to snow. The Duchy dozed under a white blanket. In the city's ice-free harbor, ships slept, and the dense forest of tall masts swayed gently, crackling in the wind. Trading lanes emptied, troop movements ceased — the imperial armies had winter quarters along the Duchy's borders. Ordinary mercenaries were left virtually jobless — neither the merchants nor the War Office needed their services. Many free companies left the city, heading south. But the "Bright heads" had their work cut out for them — and master Carlon was certainly not left out.

It took the first month after the coronation to get Dallan back on her feet. Although the cottage rented by the elf and the sergeant was visited several times by the duchess's personal healer, and Valria herself surrounded her friend with care, the wounds inflicted by the weapon from the other world were slow to heal. On the day the first real snow fell — white feathers, not ice-crumbles — the sergeant was finally able to pick up her sword and perform a few exercises in the courtyard. So far she had practiced without her armor, but it was already progress. When the green-eyed girl had finished her last set of blows and lowered her blade, breathing heavily, the happy elf rushed over to her, hugged tightly, kissed her on the lips, not at all shy of Carlon who had come to check on them. The mage, however, had long been aware of the mercenaries relationship, but averted his gaze politely.

Dallan recovered just in time. Contrary to her threats, the captain never sold the precious watermelon granted by the duchess — it now adorned the shelf of one of the cabinets. The fee the girls had received from Mr. Sandr was nearing the end, and the purse of the master had begun to show the bottom. They had to look for assignments — and they found them. Winter had no effect on the dangers of the neutral zone, and the imperial regiments camped along the border had little idea of the local threats. The experienced elf-herder was needed everywhere — together with Dallan and Carlon, she scouted the Deadlands, trained imperial trackers, tracked border creatures, found their nests and lairs, which were then cleared out by the soldiers placed under her command. The profits made it possible to extend the lease on the cottage and garden, to stock up on food and medicine. Though the trio, as usual, had no spare cash left. At the end of the first month of the new year, they celebrated Valria's 105th birthday rather modestly. After raising a glass of wine in her honor, the mage said that now if you subtract zero from the resulting figure, you can find out the real age of the elf to human standards. For which he was exiled from the festive table to polish the duke's miracle watermelon with a rag.

One day at the end of winter, a visitor came to the garden cottage. The mage was chopping wood for the fireplace when he saw a short figure, wrapped in a warm cloak with a hood, outside the gate. He was convinced that he had been spotted and the cloaked man walked down the path, stopped in front of Carlon, and threw back his hood. The guest turned out to be Lady Emilia of the Duchess' Guard.

— Good morning, master, — said the little brown-eyed girl, smiling. — Do you remember me? We've only met once before...

— Of course I remember you, lady. — The mage leaned his axe hastily against the wall, hesitating, unsure if he should bow. Her Highness bodyguard dispelled the mage's doubts by simply extending her hand for a handshake. Carlon gently squeezed the dainty palm in the suede glove.

— I am, with your permission, looking for captain Valria. — Lady Emilia glanced at the door of the house. — Is she here?

— No, she and her sergeant have gone to the market for groceries, — the wizard shook his head. — But they will be back soon. Can you wait?

— Yes.

— Then I invite you in for tea.

— It would be my pleasure, master. — The little girl smiled again. It suited her very well — Lady Emelia's round, dimpled face looked as if it had been made to smile.

The fire was blazing hot, so Carlon immediately took off his fur-lined jacket. The guest also hung her warm cloak on the brass hook near the entrance. She was dressed rather lightly for winter-a short blue camisole over a white blouse, blue tight-fitting pants, and long, mid-thigh boots with narrow lapels, like those worn by all girl guardsmen. The tiny lady was unarmed. She sank into a chair, tucked her gloves behind her belt, and stood there with her hands in her lap, staring out the window. Carlon, fiddling with the kettle by the fireplace, looked in her direction not without curiosity. Until then, he had known more or less intimately only one defender of the Duchess — Lady Jana, who had died on Coronation Day. Lady Emilia bore little resemblance to her in appearance. If Jana stood tall and impeccable build like an antique gymnast, her named sister looked more like a glass statue of a dancer — fragile and airy. If the collected and serious lynx-eyed girl looked older than her twenty-four years, then the smiling Emilia master Carlon would not have given even eighteen, even knowing that all the guardsmen were of the same age. And yet, the two girls were in fact extremely similar. Not in looks. Something else, elusive. Maybe their ability to stand or sit perfectly still, as if they weren't even breathing.

— How is sergeant Dallan feeling? — the guardswoman wondered as the master docked the kettle on a special grate inside the fireplace. The question from the quietly seated girl made the mage flinch. With an awkward chuckle, he replied:

— Fully recovered, lady. Though she should spend more time in the warmth.

— Glad to hear it. — The guardswoman looked away, tracing a thin finger across the rough tabletop. — I was worried about her. Losing two sisters in one day is a difficult ordeal. Thank you for saving her.

— Dallan was saved by Her Highness healer, — the mage brushed her off. — And... you two knew each other before, didn't you?

— We have. — Without looking at the wizard, the guest nodded slowly. — We grew up together. Her name was Anna then.

— And you don't know how it happened that she... well... — the mage was embarrassed, and instead of words he simply held up his hands.

— I know. But if she didn't see fit to tell you herself, I'm not sure...

— Yes, of course. — Already regretting having brought the conversation to this subject, Carlon turned away to the kettle. The kettle was just beginning to whistle steam.

— She's made a mistake, — Lady Emilia said quietly behind his back. — She broke her oath right after she took her vows. Not out of malice. Christina forgave her, and so did we. But the law could not forgive. She had to die either by her own hand or by the hand of one of us. But Jana intervened. She convinced everyone to leave the decision to the princess. And Christina found a way out — in the old books. Lady Anne died. That same day, a girl with no name came out of the palace.

— Dallan an Belran. — The mage took the kettle off the fire and put it on the table. — I've already figured that out. The Ninth of the Eight. That's why the nickname is...

— Name, — Lady Emilia corrected, raising her head. — It is her name now. That's all I can tell you. Except... to me a sister remains a sister, even if I am not allowed to call her by the name I know. I am grateful to those who are willing to take care of her in her time of need.

For the next quarter of an hour they sipped tea in silence. The guest watched the path across the garden, and Carlon pondered what he heard. Had he learned more than he should? About Dallan's past, perhaps, it was worth asking Dallan herself.

At last there were familiar voices from the courtyard, and a few seconds later the door swung open. The elf-woman said something with laughter to Dallan, who was following her, but she frowned when she saw Lady Emilia. In a rather unfriendly tone the captain said:

— Good morning, Lady Guardsman. Are you on business?

— You are perceptive, captain. — Smiling at Valria, the guardswoman caught the sergeant's eye, nodded to her. Dallan, after a moment's hesitation, nodded back. — I am on behalf of Her Highness.

— The Duchess has a job for us? — The elf smirked, setting the basket of food on the floor. Dallan, meanwhile, closed the door, took off her winter cloak, and hung it next to their guest's cloak.

— Yes. Will you listen to her request?

— Go ahead, lady. — Valria gave her cloak to the sergeant, walked to the bed in her boots, and sat down on the edge of the mattress. Not at all offended by such impoliteness, Emilia began:

— As soon as the last of the snow has melted, Duchess Christina will travel to the Imperial capital to pay her oaths to His Majesty the Emperor. She has been delayed as it is, albeit for good reason. The Imperial Intelligence Service has informed us that they believe the assassin from the other world who murdered the Duchess father has left Elvart. However, he did not go back to the Coalition lands, but into Imperial territory, where his trail was lost. The Empire has strengthened security for all important people. But we cannot rule out the possibility that the assassin might make another attempt on the Duchess's life. She will be vulnerable during the trip.

— Uh-huh. — Valria patted the bed with her palm, inviting Dallan to sit beside her, but the sergeant remained standing by the door, leaning against the jamb. — And you need people who've encountered the alien before, right?