Novel 1. Mercenary Company "Bright Heads". Story 2. Someone who doesn't belong here

— My lady, I have the courage to join the request.

— You both want me to die of starvation before I get shot or poisoned. — Contrary to Carlon's expectations, the princess smiled wearily. — Everyone is already falling down, and you are asking to speed up the preparation... Well, so be it. The coronation will take place the day after tomorrow.

* * *

The postponement of the celebrations deprived the killer of time to prepare — but the same applied to his opponents. It was necessary to hurry, without raising a fuss noticeable from the side. While the guards were organizing the trap, Carlon walked around the magic shops of the capital — but did not find anything useful for himself. In the end, he bought a self-tying rope, and devoted the evening to enchanting two glass jars. No special tricks — the jars should have simply burst on command, scattering fragments. In theory, the master concocted a couple of ingenious artifacts that would be useful against an enemy immune to magic, but even the archmage of the Imperial University would not have been able to produce them in such a short time.

Most often, crown festivities began in the morning, but this time, in order to gain extra hours for preparations, the ceremony was moved towards the evening — and subsequent celebrations at night. When Carlon and Valria arrived fully armed at sunset, the music inside the palace had just begun to play. At the door of the astronomical tower, Lady Yana was waiting for them all alone.

— Everything is ready, — she said. — There are seven people inside — four in the library, three on the platform of the telescope. Together with us, this will be more than enough. In addition, I have placed twenty archers with fortress guns and siege crossbows on neighboring rooftops. They are ordered to constantly monitor the dome of the observatory. If the killer still manages to deal with us and get into a firing position, they will suppress him with fire. And the shots of the guns will give a signal to my sisters guarding the princess that she needs to be taken away from the open place.

— It would be nice to see some more of them here, — Carlon admitted. — The palace guards are good, but I trust the princess guards more.

— Alas, during the coronation, all guards must be close to their overlord. Missing the laying of the crown on the lady is an indelible stain of shame for the rest of your life. — The black-haired girl said this quite calmly, as if nothing had happened. — It was announced that I suddenly fell ill and could not get out of bed. But the absence of even two guardsmen would already have aroused suspicion.

— However... It turns out that your reputation will suffer...

— It's about Christina's safety. The rest is not so important.

It was the first time the Master saw Lady Yana smile. Her chiseled swarthy face became even more beautiful.

— "I live to serve"? — Valria quoted with a grin.

"I am like a candle. The flame that gives light to others burns my flesh to ashes," — the girl guardsman retorted in a flat voice, still smiling.

— Tertius-Senior?

— No, Junior. The elder was a practical alchemist, not a poet.

In response, the elf only snorted — she had nothing to parry.

They climbed a spiral staircase that ran through the tower from the ground to the base of the dome. The magician mentally sympathized with the ducal astrologers — towards the end of the journey, his knees hurt. The former living room, turned into a library, turned out to be quite spacious. Tall cabinets lined the walls, occupying the gaps between the windows, and under the windows themselves were comfortable tables for reading. In the center of the room, a metal staircase wound around a stone pillar, leading to a telescope. Cabinets that had previously stood close to the walls were pushed back a little. Soldiers hid behind them, and two of them had a small net with lead weights.

— Take position, — Lady Yana suggested, and she herself went behind the closet.

— What happens if he doesn't come? — Carlon asked her. — Or choose another point?

— So we'll just skip the coronation. — The lynx-eyed girl didn't even turn around. — Other points are also guarded.

— I would have looked at the coronation, — Valria sighed. — But here you have to choose, either this or that. It's more interesting here.

The master fit behind the closet not without difficulty — bitterly realizing that the elf's jokes about his belly have a basis. From his "post" he could see Lady Yana — she immediately leaned her back against the wall and folded her arms across her chest. The magician decided that it was worth taking an example from her and relaxing. The painful minutes of waiting dragged on.

It got dark. The windows of the library remained closed, but the court musicians tried so hard that the echoes of melodies could be heard even here. At times there was a noise of voices. The first fireworks crackled. Watching their multi-colored reflections on the floor of the room, Carlon did not immediately pay attention to the clicks and rustling just under his ear. And having turned, he tried to press himself against the wall, drown in the shadows. The window to the left of the magician silently swung open, and a man in a gray-black suit gently descended from the windowsill to the floor. He threw off a long leather case from his shoulder, stepped towards the stairs ...

Valria emerged from behind the cupboards just as silently, raising a small cavalry crossbow. The killer noticed her at the last moment, and still managed to react. At the same time as the crossbow clicked, he raised the case in front of him. An arrow pierced something inside with a crunch, and Peter threw the case at the elf. Even sandwiched between two cabinets, the girl almost dodged — but still received a blow to the shoulder and fell, and unsuccessfully, onto her own crossbow.

— Light! — Lady Yana called out, jumping out of her hiding place. Carlon sent a bit of energy into the magic lamp under the ceiling, also came out from behind the closet. Threw an enchanted rope at an enemy. The rope looped around his legs... and slid helplessly to the floor without being tightened. However, as soon as the golden light flashed, the whole ambush began to move. Two guards blocked the killer's path to the stairs, two others were already stretching the net. From above, stomping on the iron steps, reinforcements hurried. Carlon blocked the enemy's way back to the open window, Lady Yana stood beside him, sword in both hands.

— Ha! — exclaimed the stranger, turning to the master. — You again!

He pulled out an odd-looking knife and twirled it in his hand. For some reason, turning the tip towards himself, he directed the knife handle towards the magician. Years of experience had taught Carlon that if an enemy pointed an object at you, no matter how harmless it looked, it was bad. However, the magician did not have time to do anything — a strong push to the shoulder knocked him down. There was a dry pop, and white smoke escaped from the handle of the knife. Lady Yana, who pushed Carlon away from the shot, staggered, dropped her sword. The killer ran past her, threw a knife and some other object through the window, jumped after them. There was an explosion below. The guardsman fell heavily to her knees, began to fall face forward. Carlon managed to grab the girl — and realized with horror that in the place of Yana's left eye there was a gaping bloody hole. The black-haired girl was dead — a small bullet had entered exactly in the eye socket. The master clenched his teeth, feeling the fury rise in his chest. It was a stupid death — he himself would have jumped back in time, but Lady Yana did not know this, and the bodyguard reflex hammered in from childhood played in her ...

Valria ran up and touched the guardsman on the shoulder, saw the wound, blurted out something in Old Elvish, probably the dirtiest curse. Deftly jumping onto the windowsill, she also jumped down.

— Get down, notify the posts! — Carlon ordered the taken aback guards. He himself, whispering: "Forgive me," tore off the blue guards cloak from the shoulders of the dead girl, wrapped his palms around it, climbed over the reading table, felt for the thin rope left by the killer. Already gliding over it, he noticed that the villain had climbed the tower from the outside, without catching the eye of the guards placed by Lady Yana on the roofs of the palace. Remembering Valria's recent words, at the right moment, the master pushed off with his feet and opened his fingers. Having flown over the upper edge of the palace grating, he flopped to the ground from a height of a couple of meters, and rolled three times more head over heels. Not thinking about bruises, he got up, saw Valria's back not so far ahead, rushed after her. The killer got a good head start — he had already practically crossed the empty lane separating the palace fence from the residential areas. Valria ran after her, holding the scabbard of her sword, but obviously she was not in time. However, before the stranger dived into the interweaving of crooked streets, a short figure in a cloak with a hood darted towards him from the shadow of the last building. The cloak flew off to the side, in the light of the moon and the fireworks, the silver of the cuirass and the gold of the hair flashed.

— Dallan! — The mage gasped.

Sergeant Dallan an Balran, who was now supposed to hunt deer far away, drew her sword on the run and... launched it at the enemy, aiming at the legs. The fair-haired alien jumped, letting the buzzing blade pass under him, but as soon as he landed, he was immediately hit in the jaw with a graceful fist. He rolled over onto his back, kicking up a cloud of dust. Dallan leaned over her fallen foe, swinging for another blow. And the killer put his hand into his pants pocket, pulled out some small object. Fire flashed in his fist. It cracked dry. The sound bore little resemblance to the rumble of an arquebus, and yet Carlon already knew that it was a shot. Once. Another. Third. Dallan suddenly went limp and fell like a limp rag doll onto her opponent. He pushed the girl off him, got up, again rushed to run. Valria, who almost overtook him, forgot about the pursuit, fell to her knees in front of her friend, who was lying prone. Arriving seconds later, Carlon sank down beside her and helped the elf turn Dallan onto her back. He immediately saw three bullet holes in the sergeant's silver cuirass and... a meaningful look of green eyes. The swordswoman was still alive, even conscious.

— Not ... it turned out ... sorry ... — barely moving her lips, she squeezed out.

— Shut up! — the mage barked at the girl. — Valria, run to the palace, drag the ducal doctor here!

The elf, without saying a word, nodded to him and disappeared as if she had evaporated. The magician looked up for a second to make sure that the stranger had safely disappeared among the houses, then immediately dismissed him from his mind. He took out a long dagger from the scabbard on the girl's right thigh, cut the leather straps fastening the halves of her cuirass with it. He threw aside the top, perforated plate. He unceremoniously ripped open the wounded woman's jacket and shirt, exposing the sergeant's blood-drenched chest. With the same dagger, he deeply cut his left palm — the one that is closer to the heart. He pressed it to the bullet hole above the girl's right breast, let his and her blood mix. He closed his eyes, shutting himself in.

Carlon was not a doctor, but after the war, wandering around the world, he saw different things, and realized that the knowledge of medicine is simply necessary for a magician. It doesn't matter what his specialty is. From several tutors, he learned the basics of field medicine, enough to, if not save a badly wounded warrior, then at least stabilize him. Without healing amulets and potions, the only way was available to the master. Enter into symbiosis with Dallan, and make her lead-pierced body work in the likeness of his healthy one. What he did. Carlon's work was complicated by the fact that the girl's body was still different from his own, male. But the magician managed. Maintain the blood circle. Maintain a circle of air. Don't let blood flow where it doesn't belong. Circle after circle. Turn after turn. One lost life is enough for today. A bullet to the head is too much even for magic. But he won't let Dallan die. Circle of blood. Air circle. Again. Again.

When Carlon was touched on the shoulder, he shuddered. Opening his eyes, he saw before him a man in the white robes of a court magician-healer. And around — a dense ring of soldiers of the palace and city guards.

— Now I'll take care of her, — the doctor said, pushing the master aside. Carlon fell on his ass, panting heavily, like a running dog. It began to shake, but the trembling subsided when the magician discovered that inside the iron ring he, the healer and the wounded were not alone. Valeria was also here, which is not surprising, and... Princess Christina, surrounded by seven guards.

— Your Grace... — the master tried to get up, but his strength left him, and he completely collapsed on his shoulder blades. — Your Highness!

— Lie down, master, — said Christina. Instead of a simple gold circlet, the heiress now wore a ducal crown on her head. — Everything is fine.

— You shouldn't have come, — Valria said dryly, not taking her eyes off the healer. — It's risky, and the ceremony is still underway.

— They put the crown on me, and now I go where I want, — Christina snapped. Oh yes, Christina II — Carlon somehow remembered that in Elvart there was already a duchess with that name.

— You already know that Lady Yana... — Carlon stammered. Valria sat down next to him, slipped her hand under the mage's head so that he would not lie with the back of his head in the dust — but her gaze was riveted to the wounded friend.

— Yes I know. — The young duchess pursed her lips tightly. — That's partly why I'm here.

Christina II stepped forward, knelt before Dallan, not afraid to stain her silk skirts. She squeezed her hand, wrapped in a rough glove, with two of her own. Called:

— Anna... Anna, can you hear me?

— Yes, — the green-eyed girl replied weakly. — Yes Milady.

— She shouldn't be told, — the doctor said curtly, without raising his head.

— Yana is dead, — the duchess said quietly, ignoring the healer.

— Pity... — Dallan's voice rustled like leaves in the wind.

— You protected me today. So I'm not wrong about you. And Yana was also right then. I cannot cancel the sentence. But if you want, I'll get you hired to take her place. Yana wouldn't mind.

— No. — The sergeant took a deep breath and answered in a slightly firmer voice. — You can not break the laws of the guard. Even you. I'm not Anna anymore, mistress. Anna was executed. I don't have a name. But I will always... always... be... you...