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— Okay, I'm kidding. — The elf pulled the blanket off the second half of the bed. — We'll split the mattress equally.
— Will Dallan challenge me to a duel later? — The magician raised his eyebrows.
— First of all, we won't tell her. — Valria lifted herself up, and the blanket slipped away as if by chance, exposing much more than it should. Carlon, however, did not succumb to the provocation and continued to look the elf in the eye. — Secondly, Dallan is more than a sister to me. And here you are — the unlucky bearded brother who always runs away from the family, but always returns. No less, but no more. There are things that decent girls with brothers don't do. And Dallan knows it. And thirdly, she does not know how to be jealous at all. She has atrophied many human emotions since childhood.
— You convinced me. — The master allowed himself to smirk. — Didn't she leave a spare sword at home? I would put it on the bed between us, like they do in chivalric novels.
— In chivalric novels, they do a lot of stupid things. — Valria leaned back against the pillow, pulling the blanket over her chest. — They marry the first girl who was saved from the dragon, for example ...
The night passed quietly — for an elf. Blowing out the candle on the bedside table, Carlon almost immediately heard the girl's even breathing. The master himself did not fall asleep until the first roosters. Thoughts about the day's experiences swirled in his head, and the proximity to Valria did not allow him to relax. The magician did not suffer from a shortage of female society — he was considered in some way an honorary client of a couple of metropolitan establishments, where for the proper amount of silver one could satisfy all needs without risk to health. However, a naked elf sleeping peacefully literally at his side still caused some ... tension. Although less than he might have expected. Carlon caught himself on the fact that, perhaps, he also perceives Valria more like a stupid younger sister, even if this "sister" is three times his age.
The magician met the dawn with a headache and pain in his eyes. With vengeful satisfaction, he pushed the elf aside, and under her dissatisfied grumbling, he got dressed. No food was found in the bins of the house, even crackers were eaten yesterday. Leaving Valria to wait for reports from her little scouts, Carlon moved to the market square. Buying tea leaves and hot bread straight from the oven, he asked a couple of questions to the merchants, listened to the chatter of the buyers, and thus significantly enriched the collection of rumors.
— About the murder of the duke in the city they do not really know anything until now, — he said, returning. — But they are already confidently talking about the timing of the coronation. It seems that even in the morning they announced on the square, but I did not hear it myself. Coronation a week later, funeral right after. Usually they did the opposite, but it looks like the princess is in a hurry.
— And her father's body is not so easy to bring to a decent form, yes. — The elf sighed, looking with interest at the master's purchases. — What did you bring me?
— Not to you, but to us. Fire up the fireplace. I will brew real steppe tea in a pot.
— With salt? the girl grimaced.
— Well, almost real. Sugarless. And with milk. Cow. Horse milk is not sold.
The first reports from underage spies began to arrive closer to dinner. Carlon's fears were partially justified — most of the "oddities" noticed by the children were outright nonsense. The port city was filled with foreigners from all over the world. People brought here their habits and traditions, sometimes quite exotic. But there was nothing really mysterious about them. In between reports, Valria, who had fully recovered from yesterday's injury, put her equipment in order, and the master read a book that he had brought from his rented room along with a weapon and a couple of amulets. When he finally decided that luck would not smile at them today, a boy knocked on the door, bringing really interesting news.
— He smoked what? — Valria asked.
— A paper tube! — the boy repeated with excited eyes. — Lisa accidentally saw when she was taking out dirty water from the kitchen. One of their guests went out into the backyard and smoked a paper pipe. She told her brother, he called me. I've been following this man all day. He walked around the city, doing nothing, just looking around. Then he bought two sheets of thin paper in a writing shop, and tobacco in the market. Probably, these tubes are twisted from them.
— And he doesn't look rich? — said the master.
— A rich man would not live in Liza's father's tavern, — the boy answered judiciously. — There are bed bugs and it stinks.
— And the paper costs decently...too decently to be burned. — Carlon tugged at his beard and accidentally tore out his hair.
— Perverts are different, — Valria drawled thoughtfully. — Maybe someone likes it when tobacco and paper are mixed. But such strange pleasures are usually for those who do not peck at gold. Okay, boy. Take us there.
The tavern stood on a narrow crooked street far from the city center. Having bought some green apples, the magician and the elf took up a position at the back of a dark alley, from where a good view opened. Soon there they were joined by two more young scouts — a boy and a girl. Valria sent them away so as not to create an attention-grabbing crowd. Some time later, their guide pointed with his finger:
— There he goes!
— Well, how, learned man, do you know? — Valria tossed away the core of the last apple. — No one saw the killer better than you.
— He was wearing a mask, — Carlon frowned. — But...
Walking along the dirty street, a fair-haired man of about thirty, in build and height, looked exactly like the killer seen by the magician. What betrayed him most, however, was his gait, confident and swift, but not fussy. The face, of course, was completely unfamiliar to the master, but he would have called it pleasant. The man entered the inn carrying a heavily stuffed bag over his shoulder.
— Where did he stay? — Valria asked the boy.
— Corner room, east side, — he reported bravo.
— With windows to the street, therefore, — the girl nodded, rubbing her chin. — I see ... The living rooms here are all on the second floor, am I right? And there are skylights in each one?
— Yes.
— Yes. — The elf looked at the mage. Her eyes burned with violet fire. — Let's get him now.
— Are you crazy? — The master grabbed her by the shoulder. — Dallan isn't with us, and he's dangerous... I don't even know how much.
— He's a killer, not a soldier. — The captain didn't even try to throw off Carlon's hand, she smiled reassuringly at him. — Besides, we'll take him by surprise. I bet my hat that he did not notice surveillance. It's pointless to call a city guard patrol here. He will smell them a mile away and run away. Although ... — the elf leaned towards the young guide:
— You've done a good job, but there's more to come. Let the rest watch the inn, and you run to the ducal palace. Tell any guards that I have sent you and that you have an important message for Lady Yana of the princess's guard. A very beautiful girl with dark skin and eyes like an evil cat will come out, tell her everything and bring her here. Warn her not to take more than a few soldiers and not make a fuss. Run.
— They won't make it here quickly, — said Carlon.
— Well, okay. — Valria waved her hand. — Let's go.
— Where? Are we waiting for Lady Yana?
— Wait, but not here.
The captain's idea turned out to be simple. They circled the inn in a wide arc, crossed the street, made their way to the backyard. The buildings here were almost all non-residential, two stories high, with flat roofs. The owner of one of the pottery workshops, succumbed to the spell of an elven smile, allowed Carlon and Valria to use a ladder to climb up. The houses lined up tightly, even Carlon had no problems getting from roof to roof, while the elf generally walked as if along a paved avenue. Soon they got to the tavern they needed. Its roof, surprisingly, turned out to be tiled — probably, once this place knew better times. They were comfortably seated on a gentle western slope, having the opportunity to observe both the street in front of the building and all the skylights. Instead of glass, the windows were covered with a translucent bullish bubble; the magician and the girl were not afraid to catch the eyes of the guests. It was getting dark, clouds were gathering over the city, and there were fewer and fewer passers-by. The master thought he noticed a very suspicious-looking figure in a hooded cloak, which looked out for a moment from a distant alley and retreated into the shadows again, but the magician did not see her again. Perhaps it was Mr. Sandr's man, or rather, judging by the clumsy disguise, someone from the ducal police.
Half an hour later there was movement at the far end of the street. A tight group of five people approached almost at a run from the side of the palace. At the head of the group, a tall, dark-haired girl walked with a wide stride. Her polished cuirass gleamed in the last rays of the sun, a short blue cloak fluttering behind her shoulders. The girl turned to her companions, pointed with her hand in a silver plate glove to the tavern, and said something. The companions, clad in the armor of the palace guards, rushed forward, drawing their swords.
— Oh, my God, how much noise ... — Valria, watching from behind the ridge of the roof, breathed softly. — Even though I was hoping for it.
As soon as the guards crashed into the main hall of the inn, one of the light windows flew open. Not what the mage and elf expected. The opposite, on the western side of the roof — on the sides of which they both pressed against the tiles. A familiar blond head appeared. Carlon realized that if the stranger gave himself a second to look around, he would inevitably see them both. Without delay, the master leaned forward, grabbed the man by the shoulders, pulled him towards himself, pulling him out of the window opening to the waist. The master tried to twist the opponent's elbows, poke his nose into the tiles — but he wriggled out of the grip. A moment — and the magician himself flew face forward, hit the roof with his whole body. He felt a blow to the stomach, another to the neck and suffocated. Hearing Valria's pained cry, he rolled onto his side. He saw how the girl, who had lost her crossbow and hat, stepped back from the killer, who had already jumped to her feet, and took up a hand-to-hand combat stance. She left the sword below, under the supervision of the owner of the pottery.
— Wow, — the fair-haired man suddenly said in pure Dert, with an accent more like a small-town reprimand. — A real elf, just like in the game. I was told that you are here, but I have not seen before. And you're beautiful. Highly.
— Thank you, — Valria replied in a tense tone, stopping backing away. She definitely didn't want to get too close to the edge of the roof. Without any warning, the blond-haired man charged forward. The girl fought off a swift blow to the face, but missed the hook and fell on her back, waving her arms awkwardly. The killer caught her in the fall, threw her forward, twisted the elf's right arm — just as Carlon himself was going to do with him. Holding Valria's elbow with one hand, the other grabbed her by the hair and pulled. The captain gritted her teeth, but did not cry out.
— I dreamed about an elf even when I thought that you did not exist, you know, — the fair-haired man said, leaning towards the girl's ear. — Sorry, no time, but I remember you. My name is Peter, remember me too.
He let go of Valria's hair and stroked her protruding ear with his fingers.
Carlon watched them, not at all idle. The master was not going to attack the killer in hand-to-hand combat again, even with a cleaver. None of his amulets could help now. But, as a magician of the third stage, Carlon was able to put magic into objects himself. Of course, he could not create a real combat amulet right off the bat. But it didn't take much. Depicting a stunned one, the master picked up a piece of an old broken tile, clenched it in his fist. He cut his finger on the sharp edge, sprinkled the fragment with his blood. Even an average magician can energize his own blood, though this is detrimental to life force. When he had finished, Carlon raised himself on his elbow and threw the tile pumped with magic... behind the killer's back. Whispered the activation word. The tiles burst like a bomb with a burnt-out wick, showering the fair-haired man with clay buckshot. He gasped, swayed from the blows to the back and the back of the head. Valria released herself from her grasp with lightning speed, threw the killer off her back, and recoiled back. She stood in front of Carlon, shielding him with herself, again raised her clenched fists. The blond-haired man touched his ear cut by a fragment, saw blood on his fingers and... laughed.
— Well done, — he said, not even looking in the direction of the girl and the magician. — Sorry, no time. See you again, elf. I promise we'll see you.
Picking up the long leather case that had been on his shoulder at the beginning of the fight, the killer jumped to the neighboring roof, slid down the clay drainpipe and disappeared from view. Carlon sat up with a groan, holding his stomach. Valria turned around, leaned towards him, put a hand on his shoulder.
— How are you?
— Alive. And you?
— Alive.
From below came the crack of breaking wood, and a few moments later, Lady Yana climbed out of the skylight onto the roof. Her shiny black hair was covered in dust, and a sword gleamed in her hand.
— He escaped ... yards! — squeezed out the master indicating the direction. — There!
The guard girl gave him a short nod and jumped back into the room. Her unintelligible voice was heard — apparently, the yellow-eyed lady was giving orders to the guards.
— If we waited for her ... — Carlon began.
— ... then he would have beaten three, — the elf finished for him. — Get up, learned barbarian, if you can. We need to examine the room where this guy lived. Then the guards won't let us in.
* * *
The room abandoned by the murderer was guarded by a lone soldier of the palace guards. The others took off in pursuit with Lady Yana. The guard let the magician and the elf inside without question, but left the door open, watching the search from the corner of his eye. Carlon was still unable to properly bend over because of the pain in his stomach, so he limited himself to a professional conclusion — the room did not even smell of magic. Valria did the main work. She also got in a fight, but the girl came to her senses faster than the master. A cursory inspection at first did not bring any valuable results. The belongings abandoned by the fair-haired stranger during his flight turned out to be unremarkable. Except that two smoking paper pipes and several evenly cut strips of paper were found on the table — apparently blanks. The elf took the finished pipe with two fingers, sniffed it, sneezed. Noticing something under the table, she squatted down. She picked up a crumpled yellowish sheet, laid it on the table, smoothed it out. She chuckled without taking her eyes off the paper.
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