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

— All right. (

— Milady? — The girl dared to speak.

— It's about time you met the marshal. — The necromancer turned to her apprentice. — I'm going to visit him now, and you're coming with me. But first, you'll be rewarded for your first success.

— N-no... — Rosa stammered in surprise. Vittoria gestured for her to be silent:

— I had one of my dresses altered for you yesterday. It's in that chest. Put it on now. Luca will take your suit to the laundresses. We didn't have any shoes, so keep the boots, people can't see them under the skirt anyway. Oh yes, one more thing. The amulet is yours now, you can experiment with it at your leisure. If you come up with something interesting, you can show it to me.

Rosa was used to dressing without the help of a maid, but she had not worn dresses for a long time, so it took her a long time to get dressed, and her tutor had time to send a messenger to the marshal to ask for an audience. No one in the camp had taken Rosa's measurements, so the dress was a little stinging in the shoulders, but it was simple and comfortable, with a green skirt and a black corsage, with ample sleeves and not too long a hem.

The two of them left the necromancer's tent alone, leaving Luca in charge of the household. The dead, bald orangutan was an excellent watchman; his very presence would discourage anyone from looking into the tent without asking. Rosa followed her mentor and looked round furtively, hoping to see Toad's green carcass at the edge of the camp. Sometimes Don Marius took her out for a walk at this time.

It had been several days since their arrival in the rebel camp. So far, the girl had hardly seen Marius. The young knight had been dragged around the tents of the army's higher ranks, while the sorceress had spent much time with Vittoria. They met only in the evenings, at Toad's hastily built stall. Because of the long separation from her master, the green dragoness was homesick and capricious, refusing to eat, so the young men were allowed to visit her during dinner hours, postponing other matters. Marius fed the pet with meat, and Rosa watched how old and new wounds were healing. At the same time, the knight and the sorceress had time to exchange news. Thanks to such conversations, the girl began to better understand the situation in the camp.

In fact, the rebel army was not united. At its core were the army regiments that had defected to the Duke de Velonde's side. Taking advantage of the fact that the new king was still precariously seated on the throne, de Velonde wanted to get his lands out from under the Daert crown, but to remain in the Coalition. Already as an autocratic Grand Duke, of course. His goals were facilitated by the fact that the imperial armies stationed at the borders of the kingdom could not leave them — no one knew what the eastern neighbor was planning, and King Auguste simply could not afford a protracted civil war. A smaller share were those whom Marius called loyalists. When news of the death of Queen Octavia arrived in Daert, the capital's garrison was divided. Its commander, Marshal de Cotoci, did not believe the news and tried to close the city gates, but some of the officers and soldiers were bribed by then Duke Auguste. Street battles began, lasting several days. Octavia's supporters were supported by the militias of the artisan quarters, where the young queen was very much loved, and Auguste's people were supported by soldiers who arrived from his native duchy. Eventually the Loyalists were squeezed at the very fortress walls, and they left Daert at night through the captured gates, taking with them several hundred militiamen with their families. Auguste the Strong, who had accepted the crown, refused to pardon the rebels, thus leaving them with the only option of fleeing to the Duchy of Velonda. Loyalists and separatists were forced allies with a common enemy but different goals. Finally, a good quarter of the rebel army was made up of all sorts of rabble — companies of mercenaries, groups of adventurers, even a couple of hundred steppe nomads flattered by the promise of gold and trophies. There was definitely no mutual love and harmony among the rebels. Even their camps stood apart from each other. It was a relief that Auguste sent a relatively small force against them — many crown troops had to be kept along the borders to avoid tempting the imperials.

It was a short walk from Vittoria's tent to the marshal-loyalist's dwelling, and the girl never saw Toad. Perhaps the knight had taken her to the brook to wash. De Cotoci lived in a tent as tall as Vittoria's, but with a much larger guard. Very close by was an air defence post. Above the fortifications, two bronze cannon and a twenty-barrelled valley gun peered menacingly into the sky from baskets of earth. Nearby bronze bombs were stacked in pyramids. In the centre of each of them Rosa could see a blue light, a tiny fire amulet that gave off a single spark at the magician's command. She had recently seen how such bombs worked with her own eyes, and it was not a pretty sight. In the shadows of the fortifications, the cannoneers were bored, and the entrance to the tent was guarded by two gendarmes in full armour. The emblem badges on their shoulder pads were painted black, a sign of mourning for the queen and a promise of revenge, as Don Marius had told Rosa. The fashion for this came from the gendarmes and eventually spread throughout the Loyalist army.

— Marshal are waiting for me, — Donna Vittoria said briefly to the guards. One of the soldiers nodded and threw back the canopy for her.

The first thing that caught Rosa's eye was the desk. Marshal de Cotoci's desk was three times the size of Vittoria's folding table, covered with coarse cloth, waxed and piled with papers. The girl noted at least three maps, the largest of which was pressed to the tabletop by a dozen metal figures in the shape of knights and pikemen. The Loyalist commander himself sat in a simple backed chair, and stood up at the sight of the women entering. He and the red-haired donna exchanged formal greetings, Rosa silently made a rather awkward curtsy — the Academy had its own rules, and there were no special signs of honour for teachers and students of noble blood. Having told the servant to bring wine, de Cotoci invited everyone to the table. The girl expected the Donna and the Marshal to go straight to the matter of the note, but de Cotoci addressed her first:

— Mademoiselle Granchi. You are, then, the enchantress who accompanied Don Marius?

Deciding not to take any more chances with a curtsy, Rose only lowered her gaze:

— Yes, milord.

— I understand you joined by accident. Why did you decide to stay with us?

The girl raised her head, met the Marshal's gaze. She hesitated. The commander's tone was cold, but Rosa didn't notice any hostile notes in it. The last marshal of the dead queen looked simply tired — to the point of impossibility. Moreover, the hoarse voice and black eyes were not only caused by insomnia. Rose would have bet money that de Cotoci had been drinking for weeks.

— Come on, don't be afraid, girl, — the marshal encouraged the guest as the pause dragged on.

What could Rosa say to him? "I don't know myself"? "I'm interested to see how you fight"? "I was flattered to be invited by the country's chief necromancer"? In the end, she chose not the most convincing, but the safest and quite honest option:

— I need to keep an eye on To... on Don Marius's dragon. I promised him.

— That's it? — Rosa thought for a moment that the marshal was going to laugh. She went on hurriedly, forgetting herself and raising her voice involuntarily:

— It's important, milord, — she struggled to remember Toad's real name. — Cornelia Severina is a good dragoness, and I want very much to help her recover from her wounds. I owe her as much as I owe Don Marius. And as a nature mage, it will be useful for me to study her habits and anatomy, to observe her healing process. And afterwards, I hope to continue both my research and my studies with Donna Vittoria.

— This is not the best place for scientific research, mademoiselle, — said de Cotoci. Fortunately, he did not inquire further and changed the subject:

— What do you think of the story your companion told? About aliens from another world.

— Don Marius is an honest man, and would never lie, — the young sorceress replied without hesitation.

— Absolutely. But he heard it all from hearsay. And what do you say as a magician?

— I'm afraid, milord, other worlds and the portals between them are not my speciality, — she admitted. — But... it sounds convincing. It's theoretically possible. Like the existence of a world without magic.

She glanced at Donna Vittoria. Why had the marshal asked a student and not an experienced mage? Though he'd probably already heard the necromancer's opinion. Did he want an outside perspective? So there is a lack of trust between the marshal and the court official? Or is there something else unknown to her?

— Well, we'll have time to talk to you, I hope. — A servant brought a tray with a jug of wine and simple glasses and filled them. The Marshal slid one towards him, but did not drink it. Stroking the side of the glass, he said. — Let's get to the business of Donna Vittoria. You had something to show me, milady, didn't you?

Without further ado, the necromancer laid the note the raven had delivered on the table. De Cotoci picked it up, ran his eyes over it. He asked a little surprised:

— What does that mean?

— We will have a third witness, — replied the red-haired donna. She took a glass from the table and sipped from it elegantly, as from a golden goblet.

— You're still with your plan... — The Marshal pressed his lips together, but a second later he forced a grimace of distaste from his face. — To save the world?

— To save us, my lord. — A faint grin appeared on the necromancer's lips, familiar to Rose. — Us personally, and our men for company. You understand as well as I do that Auguste wants us both dead, our men crucified. The separatists need us only until they win, and we're of little military value on our own. Surrender equals death. Military victory is impossible. If my plan succeeds, we can make this little war more interesting. Brighter. Perhaps there will be more sides. Perhaps there will be a war with the Empire. Perhaps Auguste will lose his throne. To save the kingdom, we will split it completely. And make sure that in the process, the queen is avenged and the aliens leave our world alone.

— What do you want from me, Donna? — the marshal asked bluntly.

— I have no claim on your troops or supplies, milord. — Still smiling, the necromancer ran her palm over the thick red braid that was thrown across her chest. — Give me the dragon. Along with the rider. Let Don Marius come under my command. He will agree, I assure you. I will organise the rest myself.

Marshal de Cotoci pondered Vittoria's words for a long time. Very long. The silence in the tent became viscous, heavy. The necromancer quietly sipped her wine in small gulps, Rosa tried to sit quietly and not squirm in the hard chair. Finally, the Loyalist commander took his glass with a sigh and emptied it halfway. He waved his hand:

— Whatever you say, Donna. The dragon is yours.

The farewell was hurried and awkward. As they walked quickly away from the marshal's tent, Rosa coughed and said:

— To be honest, milady, I didn't understand what you were saying.

— If you understood, it would be very strange and suspicious, — the red-haired donna grinned. She walked between the soldiers' tents with her hands behind her back and her head held high, like an officer on review. — I thought I'd take a closer look at you before I let you in on some secrets, but time is of the essence. And I have only a few men at my disposal. Unfortunately, there are some things that Luca can't do. You and Marius and Toad were sent to me by the One Creator himself, by the grace of his own hand and the hands of that imperial elf.

— What am I to do, milady? — The girl asked warily.

— That's for later, — the red-haired donna said. — I have another gift for you first. I've chosen a maid for you.

— Not undead? — Rosa asked, just in case.

— You're still learning to have an undead servant, my dear. — The necromancer's smile grew wider. — Luca is my masterpiece. But I'll admit, the persona you're in for is... unusual. It'll be interesting to see how you get along with her...

Chapter 7

The "unusual person" lived at the southern end of the camp, where the families of the militia who had left the capital had settled. The centre of this "refugee quarter" was a large tent, under which stood long tables and a portable cooker — an improvised common dining room. The big tent was surrounded by tents that were very shabby and crookedly pitched. It was there that her mentor took the intrigued Rosa. It was too early for dinner, so tent was empty. Only a tall, slender woman was sitting on a log by the cooker, patching the sleeve of a soldier's jacket. She worked slowly and concentratedly with her needle, as if she were stitching not cheap cloth but the edges of a wound. Rosa, who often mended her hunting costumes by the camp fire, would have been much quicker. Donna Vittoria called out to the stranger from a distance:

— Jeanne!

The woman raised her head. When she saw the necromancer, she put aside her sewing and stood up, pulling up the sleeves of her simple grey dress. She threw her thick black braid behind her back. Woman froze, looking at the approaching sorceresses. She touched her thigh with left hand, but immediately pulled it along her body. "A scabbard," Rose guessed. — "She is accustomed to adjusting the scabbard of a sword." The girl herself was also always trying to keep her dagger on her right hip — even when it wasn't there.

— You're not busy? — Vittoria asked with her usual grin, coming closer.

— Milady. — Jeanne bowed — briefly and with dignity. And most importantly, in a manly manner. — I am at your service at any moment.

Rosa spent her childhood in the big city, among the wives of artisans and merchants, learned ladies and noble donnas, but she also saw many peasant women. Pauletta, who had been killed by the nomads, had come from a village. The woman standing before her now looked less like a peasant woman toiling in the fields or a shopkeeper's wife accustomed to dresses. A flexible lean figure, smooth confident movements, manner of holding and speaking ... The first association that arose in Rosa, was a large forest cat. The second was Don Marius. Exactly. Jeanne resembled the dragon knight in some subtle way. The young sorceress took a closer look at her. Not that the connection between a man and a dragon could be determined by eye, but... The woman looked to be in her early thirties. She was probably quite beautiful, but the sullen expression on her face and the heavy look in her brown eyes spoilt the whole impression. Jeanne seemed to want to kill someone — right here, right now, without leaving her seat. It was a strange contrast to the calmness of her voice and how respectfully she responded to the necromancer's greeting. The woman's shoulders remained tense the entire time, the fingers of her left hand half-bent. Marius had said that a rider and a dragon shared one character. Well, the black-haired Jeanne could definitely be related to a dragon. A big, angry black dragon.