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

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

Autumn crept silently towards Elvart Duchy, preparing to plunge its claws into it. The sky over the capital was still summer-blue, but from the north the city was already surrounded by leaden clouds, ready to move at any moment, obscure the sun, and rain down. An hour before noon, Master Carlon was found by a boy he knew from Crooked Flower Street and told him that Valria asked him to come at a convenient time. Several of these children were with the elf on a candy salary as spies and messengers. With children, the captain of the "Bright Heads" generally got along better than with adults, probably due to the closeness of the characters. The magician planned to devote the afternoon to making simple potions for sale, but this could be postponed until the evening. Therefore, he left the guest house as soon as he had dined. He walked, enjoying the last summer warmth, although the path was not close. Valria was waiting for him in the suburbs, where she rented a cozy house with a garden. The golden-haired elf moved to this house every time she had money. Then (usually after a week or two) the money ran out, and she moved back to the cheap rented rooms of some tavern, where she lived most of the time. The hostess, an elderly widow, was already used to it, and even allowed the girl to constantly keep some belongings in the house.

Having reached the place, Carlon walked past young apple trees along a gravel path, went to the stone porch, was about to knock, but the door swung open earlier. Of course, the elf heard his steps from the gate.

— Come in, come in. — Valria stepped back, letting the mage inside. — Take off your shoes.

Leaving his boots in a tiny hallway, the master followed the elf into the only living room. The place already looked inhabited. A round table near the wall was adorned with a wooden bowl of peppered croutons, half empty. Above the table hung an oil-painted portrait of a red-haired cat from the front, Valria's pet, who died of old age before Carlon was born. The neatly made double bed was littered with a dark brown leather breastplate, the only piece of armor the captain rarely wore. The breastplate looked brand new, without signs of repair, even without scratches — which spoke in favor of the luck and dexterity of its owner.

— With Mr. Sandr's money, I paid off all my debts! — the girl joyfully informed the master, while he was putting on felt slippers. — In general, everything, to the coin! I don't owe anyone anything.

— It won't be long, — the mage assured.

— And there's more, — Valria continued, as if she hadn't heard him. — I paid the rent of the house for two months in advance and bought a new suit. Does it suit me?

The girl went to the middle of the room, spread her arms, allowing herself to be examined. Carlon stared at her for a few seconds. The elf was dressed as usual. Except that the blouse seemed a little whiter, the waistcoat a little greener, the buttons shone a little brighter with gold. Finally, it came to him. All of Valria's clothes were indeed new. Exactly the same as the old one, but new.

— Uh... — he drawled, standing at the threshold. — I thought the word "new" implies some changes...

— I have an external image. — The girl raised her finger pointedly. — I've been making it for years. From shoes to hair. Why change something? A mercenary is a commodity that sells itself, and the image is very important.

— Okay, I don't argue, — the magician chuckled. He actually always liked the look of the captain. — But let me guess... Have you run out of money yet?

— Yes, — the girl replied simply. She sat down at the table, gesturing for the magician to join. She took a cracker from a bowl. — I also bought a blanket for Snowflake, warm. Winter is coming soon. I also changed her horseshoes. Stock up on arrows.

— Did you pay for the rent on your own? — the master clarified, sitting down on a stool without a back. He did not touch the crackers, suspecting that this was the last food left for the empty-headed elf.

— Who should have? — Valria arched her golden eyebrow gracefully.

— You and Dallan live together. — The mage nodded towards the double bed. — She could...

— Her money is her money, — the elf replied. — I rent the house, so I pay. You yourself squandered your entire salary, I suppose?

— Of course. — Carlon grinned. — But I put something into it. Look.

The master stood up and moved away from the table. He raised his hands, showing four silver rings — one each on the middle and ring fingers. He clapped his hands so that the rings hit each other, jerked his hands apart. Between the palms of the magician, an almost transparent plane appeared — a rectangular one, resembling a door leaf in dimensions.

— Power shield? — Valria asked, not without curiosity, tilting her head to her shoulder. — I remember seeing them in the war, only bigger...

— Yeah. — Carlon blinked, warding off undue surprise. He once again forgot for a moment that the elf only looks like a young girl, and during the war years she was not a child, but served as an army jaeger. — This one won't stop a cannonball, but a bullet or an arrow will. Here, throw something at me.

Valria pulled a copper coin out of her vest pocket with two fingers, flicked it flying. The coin whistled up, hit the ceiling beam and ricocheted, hitting Carlon right on the top of the head, passing over the top edge of the shield.

— Crap!

— Wait... — the elf frowned artificially. — Or did you want me to throw it at the shield? Did you say throw it at you?

— Okay, it's my own fault. — The master laughed shortly, brought his palms together. The transparent "sash" has disappeared. — I will have a lesson...

He returned to the table, resting his elbows on it:

— Showed off in front of each other, and that's enough. You didn't just call me for no reason. Are you up to something again?

— A trifling business. — The captain shrugged. — Contract for one day. They pay a little, but problems are not expected.

— And why do you need a magician, if it's trifling? — Carlon frowned.

— No reason. — Valria sighed. — Just need a second person. Dallan is on vacation.

— What? — Carlon couldn't believe his ears.

— Yes. Asked for the first time in six years. How could I refuse her? — The girl spread her hands. — Said she wanted to hunt. She left for Hordburk, where the forests are free. She promised to get a deer. I don't think it will. The huntress from her is like a reiter from me.

The elf spoke the last phrases slowly, in a low voice. There was no trace of her high spirits. Carlon narrowed his eyes again.

— She just left and you miss her already?

— I'm surprised myself. — Valria rubbed her cheek with thin fingers. — You know, elves rarely have more than one or two children in a family, that's why there are so few of us. I never had a sister, and Dallan... probably became one for me. Even more than a sister. I... until yesterday, I myself did not understand how much I became attached to her. Couldn't sleep at night. I'm used to hearing her breathing in my sleep next to me... All these years...

Carlon, not expecting such an emotional response, was silent. The elf smiled sadly.

— Sorry, I had to talk to someone. And who but you?

The master looked expressively at the portrait of the ginger cat. Valria followed his gaze, frowning.

— Yes, I understand ... But do you know what the advantage of working as a mercenary is? I have every chance not to live my elven eight hundred years, and to die before my human friends.

— I would even say that these chances are very good. — The mage decided it was time to change the subject. — With your way of picking contracts... so what's the deal for the day?

— First of all, what do you know about Ludria? — Still a little frowning, the elf crunched a cracker.

— Well ... — the master rolled his eyes, scratched his beard. — A continent across the ocean, the Republicans discovered in the last century... Savages, damp forests, poisonous reptiles... Unstable magical background, problems with portals...

"So," Valriya interrupted, "the Empire has a couple of colonies on the Ludrian coast. The other day, a ship entered the port of the capital, returning just from there. The governor of one of the settlements, Baron Vasily Tarakatos, arrived. He brought with him a mountain of curiosities. From golden savage idols to human-sized bipedal lizards. He will take all this to the emperor, he wants to ask him for a fleet and troops to conquer the forest barbarians. Well, to throw the Republicans off the coast. First, however, the baron requested an audience with our duke. He wants to bring gifts to him, and then ask for help with money and ships.

— So what?

— So... I found the baron and convinced him to hire me as a bodyguard. — A truly angelic smile appeared on the lips of the elf. — Exactly one day. It was not easy, but I proved that it would be more appropriate to come to the duke accompanied by an elegantly dressed beautiful elf than in the company of an unshaven boatswain.

— I see, — said Carlon. — I suppose if the baron didn't agree, you yourself would pay him extra for such an opportunity?

— No. — The girl shook her chin. She straightened a strand of hair that had fallen on her forehead. — I have nothing to pay. But the main thing you understood. I cannot miss such an event. However, I promised the client two guards. I did not know then that Dallan would leave.

— Basically, I don't mind. — The master drummed his fingers on the table top. — Only here the client will not be indignant? He was promised a ceremonial escort of two beautiful warriors, and instead of the second beauty, a bearded man would appear.

— A bearded, pot-bellied man, — the elf clarified. She recoiled as the mage leaned across the table and tried to grab her by the ear. — I didn't tell him anything about the identity of the second bodyguard, so you can do it too. And in general, a battle mage in protection is a serious matter. What is there to complain about?

— Well, then I'm in business. — Without reaching for the sharp ears of the girl, Carlon flopped back into the seat. — How much pay?

Valria named the amount. The magician covered his eyes with his hand. After a heavy sigh he said:

— Listen... if you don't have enough for food — come to me, I'll pay for the dinners.

— You said. I remembered. — The girl stood up and shook her hair. — Okay, get up, let's go.

— Now? Where?

— Where? Are you still asking? In the city baths, of course! — Valria took her long leather gloves from the windowsill and began to put them on. — And then to the barber. We will destroy strategic reserves of bread crumbs in your beard. I will pay.

— You've run out of money. — The master snorted skeptically. Of course, he intended to pay for his bath from his own wallet.

— I'll borrow on the way, from someone, — the elf waved her off. — For the sake of such a thing, it's not a pity to spend money...

* * *

They were almost late for a meeting with a client. It turned out that since early morning in the port of Elvart, a regiment of imperial infantry was unloaded, sent to strengthen the border. Many streets were blocked to clear the way for troops and baggage. Marching hundreds filed through the city, singing in unison "As the Angels Soar," a soldier's ditty so old that anyone involved in the military knew it. After a fair amount of winding through the alleys, having spent a lot of time at the crossroads, the magician and the elf finally reached the hotel, which was completely rented by Baron Tarakatos. Valria introduced the master to the employer, who measured Carlon with a glance and, apparently, was quite pleased.

— You, at least, look like a magician, — the girl whispered to the master, when the baron moved away to give instructions to the loaders. — Beard, belly, red eyes ... Not enough hat. Such, spiky, like the Archchancellor's.

— The Archchancellor wears that hat because there's a flask of booze hidden inside it, — Carlon snorted. He himself learned the basics of magic in one of the military schools, and did not see the Archchancellor, but the habits of the head of the Imperial University were widely known. — You would also offer me to put on a mantle, with moons and stars.

The master tugged at the sleeves of his black-and-silver doublet — terribly old-fashioned, frayed at the elbows, but handsome enough. All the same, there was nothing more decent in the wardrobe of a magician. Valria did without a formal dress, she looked great in her usual suit. True, the captain changed her thick leather gloves to thin suede ones, with a black floral pattern embroidered on spacious gaiters. A sword hung on the elf's hip, serving more as a decoration — anyway, before the audience, any weapon had to be handed over. For the same reason, Carlon did not take anything with him, not even amulets. There will be less fuss during inspection.

They advanced to the palace in a small caravan of two wagons and a dozen horsemen. One of the carts carried a cage with a two-legged lizard brought from across the sea. The lizard sat on the floor and showed no signs of life, but it still attracted attention. The baron's people had to wave their whips away from the carts of overly curious townspeople, especially children. Valria, who was riding stirrup in stirrup with Carlon, now and then looked gloomily at the cage. Finally, leaning towards the magician, she said quietly:

— It's not an animal.

— In what sense? — the master also looked at the cart with the lizard. The prisoner raised his head and their eyes met. The creature's round eyes were glassy, ??like those of a doll, and expressed nothing.

— In the sense that it's not a beast, — the elf repeated. — He's like me. Understand? Not human, but... human.

— Where did you get it from? — Carlon could not stand it, looked away first. Lizard immediately lowered his head, again became indifferent.

— That's noticeable. — Valria shrugged. — I don't know how you can't see it. He is a human. Just...different.

The girl looked unusually confused, bewildered. Carlon seemed to understand her feelings. The magician said carefully:

— You're not going to let him out, are you?

— Of course not. But ... it would be wrong if he was sent to the zoo.

— Let's think about it later, okay?

— Okay, I convinced you. — The captain sighed. The rest of the way she was silent — and this, oddly enough, did not please Carlon.

The ducal palace of Elvart was built back in the days of the old empire, as the residence of the imperial governor. Which, of course, affected the architecture and scale — white marble, arches, high domes, round towers, an abundance of stained-glass windows. The complex of buildings, surrounded not by a wall, but only by a forged lattice, included the palace itself, the temple of the One Creator, an ancient theater, a rectangular square with fountains, many outbuildings, from the guardhouse and stables to baths and an observatory. It was not possible to defend all this; in wartime, the ruling family moved to a castle specially built south of the capital. But the city residence looked incredible. Greatness, frozen in white stone — other, less banal words Carlon did not come to mind.

Behind the fence, the group split up. Most of the gifts, including the cage with the lizard, were sent somewhere deep into the palace. The baron's men stayed with the wagons. Then Governor Tarakatos set off, accompanied only by Carlon, Valria, and a couple of servants. The servants carried on silver trays covered with cloth those gifts that the governor of the overseas colony planned to present to the duke personally. A detachment of twelve palace guards met the guests at the gate, led them through the square and the corridors of the residence. On marble stairs and carpeted passages they climbed to the very roof of the palace complex, to the carved double doors. An officer in a gilded breastplate, who was waiting near the doors, stepped towards them and held out his hand. Having accepted the swords of the Baron and Valria, he also silently bowed and stepped aside. Two of his subordinates opened the doors, and the guests finally entered the throne room, leaving their escorts outside.

The ensuing ceremonial bows Carlon performed, repeating after Valria — the captain knew the etiquette decently. Fortunately, for the military, the rules of etiquette were common, and the combat magician was equated in status with an officer. Having made all the necessary bows, getting down on one knee and rising again with the permission of the duke, the master looked around not without interest, trying not to turn his head too obviously. The oblong throne room was illuminated by two rows of arched stained-glass windows. Guards and servants lined up along the walls through one. At the far end of the hall, His Highness the Duke of Elvart, Gustav the Seventh, sat on a simple, low throne. He was a lean, bald man who looked younger than his fifty years. Carlon remembered that during the war the duke personally led plate cavalry to attack, and was even wounded by a bullet in the thigh, although by luck he did not go limp. Behind him were two men. The master knew the stately, gray-bearded old man in a white caftan — he was Master Friedrich, the archmage, adviser and personal doctor of the ruling family. Carlon was much more interested in the second — a heavy bearded man in silver armor. He could not be anything but a ducal guard. In Elvart, as in the Empire, the personal guard of the ruler was formed in a very complicated way. When the heir to the throne was three years old, fifty orphans of the same sex and age were selected throughout the country. In subsequent years, they grew up with the heir, passing through the strictest selection and the most difficult training. Too weak, too stupid, too self-willed, too proud, simply not converging in character with the heir, left the palace. When the heir came of age, the rest took an oath of allegiance to him and became guardsmen. The future ruler received a small, but well-trained and fanatically loyal group of bodyguards who could both protect him personally and lead other guards. This system sometimes failed, but still, in the eyes of those around them, the guardsmen remained very unusual people. In fact, they were the embodied will of the crown bearer — after all, they, in theory, did not have their own desires and interests. Now Gustav the Seventh had only three guardsmen left — some of the guards died on the fields of the last war, others were not spared by age. His daughter and heiress, Princess Christina, was guarded by eight girls who had already taken an oath several years ago.

— And now, Your Highness, with permission, I would like to present the trophies obtained by my soldiers in the settlements of the Ludrian savages. — It was evident that Baron Tarakatos had lost the habit of court ceremonies, and was burdened by them no less than Carlon. Barely waiting for permission, he gestured for the servants. They stepped forward, pulled the cloth off the trays. Kneeling down, they put the trays in front of them. Gold glittered on silver. About a dozen fine gold jewelry — necklaces, rings, pendants. Golden figurine of a man with diamond eyes. Several bone figurines of animals, as if intertwined with gold wire.

— And this is the work of savages? — the duke asked with more curiosity than doubt. — I've heard rumors that they're skilled with gold, but I didn't think they were that good.

— It is true, your highness, — the baron bowed his head. — Forest barbarians don't know how to forge iron, they wear skins and make weapons out of stone. But their craftsmen process the precious metal no worse than the imperial goldsmiths. Some tribal leaders told me that this art was taught to them by a mysterious people living in the depths of the mainland, in cities where even the walls of houses are covered with gold plates.

— I suppose you wished to verify their words, Baron? — Gustav waved his hand with a smile. Two young pages took the trays from the servants of Tarakatos, brought them to the throne.

— Alas, now it is impossible — said the governor, without raising his head. — It takes an entire army, well-equipped and trained, to pass through the damp forests of Ludria. I hope to receive it from the emperor. In addition, our settlements on the offshore islands are constantly threatened by Coalition ships. If a...

The baron failed to reach an agreement. There was a sound that Carlon did not expect to hear in the throne room of the ducal palace. The sound of breaking glass. A round hole had formed in one of the stained-glass windows to the left of the magician. A small cylinder that flew into it fell exactly in the middle of the hall. And exploded. A white flash hit the master's eyes, a deafening thunder screwed right into his ears ... And then it became quiet and dark.

The life path of a combat mage includes a lot of not very pleasant things. No experienced soldier experiences as many different painful sensations as a magician, even if he has never been injured. Simply put, Carlon already had a wealth of experience with shell shock, temporary blindness and partial deafness. Feelings began to return quickly enough. First, the master realized that he was lying on the carpet, and the pile was digging into his cheek. Then he saw this carpet — red, with yellow stripes. Iridescent halos flashed before his eyes, but in general, vision worked. In the ears, the silence was replaced by a ringing, but the master decided that for now, his vision would be enough. With a groan, he got up on all fours and sat down. He slowly moved his head left and right — for some reason it turned out to be easier to move his head than his eyes. Guards, servants, guests were lying side by side around... Only one person was on his feet. Which was not in the throne room before the explosion. A tall man in a gray suit streaked with black, wearing a woven mask with slits for the eyes. With a confident step, as if in no hurry, he approached the throne, on which the duke was limp. Carlon opened his mouth to shout, to divert the stranger's attention to himself — but he did not hear his own voice. The masked man approached Gustav VIII, took out a wide dagger with a blued blade from the sheath on his belt, hit the ruler in the neck. With three skillful blows, he separated the head from the body, threw it to the floor. With the same quick, but not hasty step, he went to the broken window, through which, obviously, he got inside. Carlon noticed movement behind the throne. Master Friedrich rose to his knees, shouted something, silently gaping his mouth, threw both hands forward. The killer was enveloped in a translucent cocoon — the archmage only by an effort of will, without the help of a magic item, created a powerful protective field around him. The masked man paused for a second. And then he took a step and just walked out of the transparent prison, as if it had never existed. Glancing over his shoulder, he threw the dagger exactly at the master's throat. Jumped up on the windowsill. He grabbed onto something, probably a very thin rope. And slid down.

Carlon's ears popped, hearing returned to him — although the ringing did not disappear. The people around also came to their senses. The Duke's Guard was the first to stand up, staggering over to the headless corpse on the throne, falling to his knees in front of him. The guards and pages, rising, also hastened to the body of the duke, one by one. Carlon did not join them. Instead, he rushed over to Valria, stretched out on the floor to her full height. The golden-haired elf did not moan, did not try to get up. She lay on her back perfectly still, her wide violet eyes staring blindly at the ceiling. Squatting next to her on his haunches, the master raised his hand to the girl's half-open lips. He felt the faint warmth of her breath and calmed down a little. Elven hearing is much finer than human hearing. The explosion, which deprived people of consciousness, could have killed the elf. Or cripple — but the magician did not notice that blood was flowing from Valria's ears. Of course, until she came to her senses, it's too early to rejoice, but it seems that everything went without injuries. Carlon closed the girl's eyes, wincing inwardly — before he had only done this with the dead. Whispered:

— Don't you dare die. You still owe money for the bath.

The high doors opened and the throne room filled with soldiers in a blink of an eye. The guards, armed with short halberds, took the mage and the elf into the ring — as, indeed, Baron Tarakatos and his servants. Carlon looked around at them with a wry, helpless grin, asked:

— Can I first call the doctor, and then go to the dungeon?...

* * *

It didn't get to the dungeon. The visitors of the ill-fated audience were divided. Valria was taken somewhere on a stretcher, while Carlon was locked in a room with a single barred window, the decoration of which looked more like a rich living room than a prison cell. There the master languished in ignorance for two hours, until a modestly dressed official visited him. The official did not introduce himself, but his indifferent eyes and confident demeanor indicated that he was an interrogating officer of the secret police. Professionally shaking out of Carlon everything that he saw during the attack on the throne room, the official left. However, after a couple of minutes, the heavy oak door swung open again. Holding her hand on the scabbard of her sword, a very tall, fit girl in a blue uniform and silver armor of the ducal guard crossed the threshold. Looking at her swarthy skin, face with high sharp cheekbones, short jet-black hair and transparent yellow, lynx-like eyes, Carlon was ready to bet that this was a countrywoman in front of him. How did she get carried from the southern steppes to the other end of the mainland, and even in early childhood?

— Master Carlon. — The girl gave the magician a rather unfriendly look. Her yellow eyes made her look truly frightening — the master felt a chill in his chest. — Follow me.

The sentries guarding the luxurious chamber remained at their post — the black-haired warrior was the only accompanying master. Carlon wasn't sure what that meant. Either he was already trusted, or one guard was enough to stop an escape attempt, even made by an experienced battle mage. The master leaned towards the first option — the black-haired woman simply walked in front, although holding her palm on the sword, but calmly exposing her defenseless back and the back of her head to him. Carlon noted to himself that the guards girls used lighter armor — instead of full armor, his companion wore only a light cuirass with smooth shoulder pads and steel gloves with elbow-length bracers. However, Carlon knew that it was possible to supplement the armor with leg protection quickly.

Their path was short and ended at an unremarkable door. The girl with lynx eyes opened it, pushed the magician inside, slammed the shutter behind him, remaining in the corridor. The first feeling that the master experienced was relief. The room he was shoved into turned out to be the guest bedroom, and he saw Valria on the comfortable, soft bed. The elf, covered with a white blanket to the waist, was half-sitting, slipping a pillow under her back, and talking about something ... with Princess Christina, who was sitting in an armchair near the bed. At the sight of the heir to the throne, the magician froze. Then he hastily bowed from the waist:

— Your Highness! My condolences...

He wasn't sure if the bow was the right one in such a situation, but the princess just smiled sadly at him:

— Thanks to. I would like to say "good afternoon" to you, venerable master, but alas, the day is not at all good. Sit down.

She pointed to an empty chair at the head of the bed. Carlon obediently sat down. He stared at the princess, but then he caught himself, turned his gaze to Valria.

— Her ladyship and I have agreed on something here, — the captain told him, deliberately raising her voice.

— Don't joke, Lady Valria, — the princess scolded her. — My personal healer assured me that he got your ears in perfect order.

There was hidden metal in this soft request, and the elf obeyed instantly. She explained in a different tone:

— I convinced her ladyship that I could be of service to her. And I signed up for something. I would very much like to sign you, but, of course, only with your consent.

— Let me guess. — The master looked up at Christina. The princess had recently turned twenty-four, but Carlon would have lied, calling the girl beautiful. She was too much like her father — square features, a massive jaw, a large nose. But in it, without a doubt, paternal willpower was felt.

— You guessed it, you guessed it. — Valria interrupted him, fiddling with the edge of the blanket with her fingers. — I want to find this bastard.

— And I allowed the captain to participate in the investigation, — the princess nodded. — Lady Valria and I have never had anything in common before, but we have long had... shall we say, common acquaintances. This... general acquaintance allows me to rate the captain's reliability very highly. The whole secret police will search for the father's killer, and we will turn to the Empire for help. However, I will be glad if a person whom I personally absolutely trust is involved in the investigation. Alas, in the palace of these — only my guardsmen. They are nice girls, one and all, and would not hesitate to die for me, but they understand only the organization of protection. Lady Valria has experience with this sort of thing. And she spoke positively about you. Will you help her with the investigation?

— Your Grace, I cannot refuse. — Carlon rose to bow again. He really couldn't refuse. A polite request from such an important person is tantamount to an order.

— Please accept my thanks. — Christina got up. — All the necessary information will be provided to you, as well as admission to the palace. And, of course, your time will be paid in gold. However, if you want some other reward...

— Watermelon, — Valria said shortly.

— Watermelon? — The princess raised her eyebrows.

— If I catch the killer before the secret police, you will give me a watermelon. — The elf wiggled her pointed ears. — I don't remember the last time I ate it, and I have no doubt that it would be easy for the ducal court to bring fresh watermelon to Elvart from the south. As for the gold, I will report on the expenses for the time of work. I don't need more.

— So be it. — The heir to the throne smiled less sadly and left, leaving them alone.

— Watermelon, — Carlon repeated.

— Well, I decided that it is more important to earn a good attitude of our future ruler than to squeeze a couple of extra coins out of her, — the elf shrugged.

— In this manner? And why did you fit into a deliberately hopeless case? The killer is probably already flashing his heels on the other side of no man's land.

— I do not think so. — The girl shook her head, twisted a long golden strand around her finger. — You see, the princess and I agreed that this was no ordinary political assassination. The borderlands are restless, the Empire moves troops without explaining anything to the vassals. The coalition stirred. Something is planned, and the assassination attempt on the head of one of the strongest vassal states of the Empire is just in time. Christina is the only direct heiress. If the killer manages to get Christina as well, chaos will begin.

— But now? — the mage frowned. — Christina will be guarded with special care ...

— Only those who are really faithful to her, and there are not very many of them. — The elf's face became serious. She let go of the strand, folded her hands on the blanket, leaned back. — It is best to fish in muddy waters. Besides, her ladyship couldn't lock herself in her chambers right now. She has a number of public actions ahead of her. The funeral of her father, the coronation, a trip to the imperial capital to bring homage... She is vulnerable, no matter how the police and guards comb the city. Especially in front of a killer whose abilities are... unusual.

— He passed through the magical barrier as if through an empty space...

— That's it, — Valria agreed. — There is something to think about. Moreover, in case of failure, no one will ask us. Although, of course, I want watermelon, and strongly.

They were silent for a while, each thinking about his own, then the elf asked uncertainly:

— Carlon... hold my shoulders, okay?

She sat up, swinging her bare feet off the bed, and immediately staggered. The magician supported the girl, asked, not hiding his concern:

— Did the doctor say you're okay?

— My ears are okay, — the elf answered with annoyance. — But the head is not very good. It cannot be cured with magic or herbs. Tomorrow I'll be back to normal, but not before. For now, just... help.

The girl put on her boots, put on gloves, a hat with a disheveled white feather. She got up, held by Carlon's elbow.

— My legs do not tremble, I just sometimes confuse the floor and the ceiling. — Valria sighed as she took a step towards the door.

A familiar girl-guardsman was waiting for them outside the threshold. Her lynx eyes flashing, she bowed her head for a moment.

— I am Lady Yana. Her ladyship ordered me to help you. Now I will accompany you. If you need to return to the palace or speak with the princess, just tell the guards to call me.

The coldness of the guardsman did not disappear anywhere, but now she was emphatically polite. Noticing the state of Valria, she offered her hand, but the elf replied with a charming smile that "her heart is already occupied by another." Carlon deliberately let the captain stumble, nearly knocking her down the stairs, and they reached the gate in complete silence. Valria pouted like a child, and Lady Yana walked ahead without even looking back. Having received the elf's sword and some papers from the secret police in the guardhouse, they said goodbye to Yana. They went home on foot, leading the horses by the bridle. Valria walked very slowly, hugging the magician by the shoulders, practically hanging on him. It was rather pleasant for Carlon — the girl seemed weightless, and her hair smelled of floral perfume. The captain herself, however, was not happy. Halfway through she said plaintively:

— You could take me in your arms, barbarian. I don't weigh that much.

— I still don't understand... — the magician said slowly, not even glancing at her. — How do you try to present yourself in the eyes of others? As a fragile graceful lady, or as a stern, fearless warrior?

— Like a fragile graceful warrior. — Valria snorted. — The stern, fearless lady is Dallan.

The elf and the magician reached the house with the garden without incident. Dinner was long past, so after putting the captain to bed and thrusting a bowl of half-eaten crackers into her hands, Carlon jogged off to the market. Unfortunately, the shops selling ready-made food have already closed. Except for one, but a middle-aged elf traded there, and the master never bought anything from the elves. Not out of any prejudice, he just didn't want to get involved with hucksters with hundreds of years of experience swindling customers. He had to make an order in a tavern. Returning with a pot of hot porridge in his hands, Carlon found the girl talking with a thin old man in black clothes.

— You can be left for a quarter of an hour, huh?! — The master angrily slammed the pot on the table, only after that he welcomed the guest. Hello, Mr. Sandr.

The Imperial intelligence resident in Elvart responded with a grin and a nod.

— Do not swear at the girl, master. I came here myself. You are the first witnesses to the murder released from custody, and I needed to know something. This is faster than me making my way into the palace through all the bureaucracy, and I would not want to appear there once again. And now I see that you can use my assistance.

— Valria has already told about the princess's request.

Mister Sandr nodded once more.

— And I can only approve of the captain's initiative. Her Ladyship... although I guess it's safe to say "Her Highness"... Well, Her Highness Christina asked you to look for the killer. And I ask you to protect the princess. Not directly, for this there is a guard. But if you sit on the killer's tail, it will be more difficult for him to prepare an assassination attempt.

— Why we, and not ... you? Or the duchy's police? — Carlon sat down on a stool.

— Because this case is connected with the past, in which you participated. — The old man explained. — And because of its secrecy, the fewer people involved in the details, the better.

— The past case ... with the portal in the dead fortress? — The magician tensed up.

— Yes. — Sandr nodded. — I'm going to fill you in on the details that only a few operatives in my department know.

— Maybe you shouldn't do it?

— Shut up. — Valria shushed the master. — Go on, Mr. Sandr.

— The archmages of the Imperial University have analyzed the records you obtained in the fortress and the signs written off from the arch of the portal. — The resident put his fingertips together. — We have combined their findings with intelligence reports from the Iderling lands. And made some conclusions. We believe that during the war years, the Coalition conducted experiments on moving between parallel planes of reality. Are you aware of the multiple worlds theory?

— Yes. — Carlon rubbed his chin. — If it is known for sure that our material plane of existence exists, and several ethereal ones outside it, where angels and demons come from, then theoretically it can be assumed that there is another material plane somewhere. Also inhabited by people, elves, some other intelligent species that we are not even able to imagine.

-This is the kind of world the Coalition mages found. — Mister Sandr looked at him over his clasped fingers. — A human-inhabited world with laws of nature somewhat different from ours. At first they only watched him, then tried to establish contact. Each such attempt ended in disaster. In the fortress where you were, and in several other places. There has been no progress whatsoever. A year ago, the king of the Iderling dynasty imposed a personal ban on further research in this area. But... at the same time, during the last attempt, the magicians achieved little success. They dragged a man into our world... from the other side. As far as I understand, not random.

— Killer, — Carlon breathed.

— Most likely, though we can't know for sure. We greatly appreciate our agents at the top of the kingdom, and after receiving the first information, we ordered them to lay low. But here's what we've found out. There is no magic in that other world. Generally. But there are more developed technologies, including weapons.

— Yeah-ah... — The master pulled his beard, captured by the idea that came to mind. — If there is no magic as a phenomenon in that world... that person from there can be... like, a part of that reality. In our world, there is no magic for him either... I don't know how to express it more clearly...

— Archmages spoke about the same. — Mr. Sandr noted with approval in his voice. — And you said that you are far from theory... In general, we are dealing with a hired killer from another world. Who possesses martial skills unknown to us, unknown techniques, who can pass through magical barriers and alarms, who is elusive to sympathetic spells, and perhaps invulnerable to combat spells. To the confrontation with which the entire system of protection and search, both Elvart and the Empire, are completely unprepared.

— And who I know how to find. — Valria smiled broadly. — Assuming he's still in the capital...

* * *

Mr Sander left them in a very gloomy mood. The elf flatly refused to share her plans with him, only teasing him with a couple of vague hints. When the Imperial Resident left, she asked Carlon:

— Walk the streets. If you see any of my guys, tell them to find the rest. Let them gather in my yard.

The magician completed the assignment quickly — it was not difficult to stumble upon one of Valria's underage spies anywhere in the capital. Not that there were too many of them, just that they were always scurrying around the city blocks, from the port to the outer outposts. By sunset, a flock of two dozen boys and girls of all ages had gathered in the apple orchard in front of the house. The captain met them sitting on the porch. She asked Carlon to stay in the house, and the master watched from the window as the girl cheerfully greeted each newcomer. What she was talking to them about, the magician did not really hear, but he saw how the children surrounded Valria in a semicircle, listening to her words with all seriousness. However, the elf obviously ended her short speech with a joke, as the children suddenly rolled with laughter at once. Valria joined them. After laughing, she wiped away her tears with the hem of her glove, said something else that caused another explosion of children's laughter. She answered several questions asked by the older guys, hugged the fair-haired girl who approached her, patted her on the head with a gentle smile. Finally, she disbanded her young guard. She gestured that Carlon could leave.

— Well, what was it? — the master chuckled, helping the elf to stand up — her legs still gave way. Or she was just faking it, the magician wouldn't vouch for it.

— I asked them to patrol the city and watch people. And let me know if they see a stranger doing something weird.

— Is that all? — They returned to the house, where Carlon put the girl on the bed. — Is this your whole plan? So you're going to track down the killer who outflanked the secret police and the palace guards?

— Are you suggesting that I compete with Imperial Intelligence in its own field? — Valria grinned wryly, pulled off her gloves, grabbed her boots. — The city will be checked by the usual methods even without us. I want to use a tool that serious people neglect.

— And you think it will do something? — Carlon sat down next to her on the edge of the bed.

— I hope. Children have sharp eyes. Even human ones.

— But what should they see? It's a port city on a trade route! Can you imagine how much... strange things are going on here?

— And you forget that children are local. — The elf poked the magician in the nose with a grin. Long and thin, the girl's finger was already covered with calluses from sword exercises. In recent years, Valria has been training with gloves. — Their notion of the strange is tailored to the local realities. They will understand when they see something really out of place.

— Imperial spies have tight control over the borderlands, — Carlon remarked. — I'm ready to argue, all the agents of the Coalition are under their hood. If the murderer had been brought to Elvart by agents of the Iderlings, this would not have gone unnoticed. Surely he arrived himself, as a private individual with a reliable "legend". So, he has already got used to our world. According to Mr. Sandra, he had a whole year to do it.

— I have been living among you, unwashed barbarians with short ears, for half a century. — Valria threw off her waistcoat, pulled a snow-white blouse over her head, under which was a thin undershirt. — And I'm still an elf.

— Well, yes ... — the master chuckled. He stood up and turned away so as not to interfere with the girl to undress. — But the difference between elves and humans...

— The difference between Imperials and Republicans is greater than between Elvartians and Elves, — Valriya interrupted him, puffing and rustling her clothes. — A person from another world can pretend to be local, but he will not cease to be himself. Sooner or later he will give himself away. He will do something that will seem wrong precisely in the eyes of a simple city dweller.

— If only earlier, not later. — Carlon sighed. — We are limited by the time before the first event where the princess will have to make a public appearance.

— If we do not have time to sit on the killer's tail in time, then we will ask for an escort and we will guard her ladyship nearby, along with the guards, — the elf answered. After a pause for a second, she suddenly asked: — Carlon, maybe you will spend the night here?

— Why? I'll come in the morning.

— It's just... I didn't sleep last night... — Valria stuttered. — I'm not sure I'll sleep tonight. It turns out I'm completely out of the habit of being alone. Someone needs to be in the house. I'll make a bed for you on the rug, at the threshold.

— Very tempting, — the master snorted skeptically, turning around. The girl had already climbed under the covers, leaving her clothes on the floor. Everything, including underwear.

— 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.

— Interesting.

Carlon looked over her shoulder. The sheet was drawn by hand with geometric shapes — squares, rectangles, circles. Two or three dotted lines stretched from each figure. Columns of numbers, signs, incomprehensible squiggles lined up near the figures and lines — either conventional symbols, or letters of a foreign alphabet.

— So what's this? the master asked.

— I thought you'd tell me.

— Well... it's definitely not magic formulas. And not alchemical calculations.

— And then I did not guess. — Valria snorted, brushing a strand out of her forehead from her bangs.

Boots rumbled in the hallway. The elf hurriedly hid the paper in her pants pocket. Lady Yana entered, sweaty and disheveled, and said hoarsely:

— Gone. I sent people to guard posts to seal off the area.

— I don't think it'll help, — Valria sighed with rather feigned chagrin.

— Me too. — The guardsman awarded the elf with her signature look, capable of freezing water in a jug. — You should have warned me of all the details of your plan.

— I'm afraid so, — Carlon hastily answered, ahead of the elf. — We'll be more careful next time.

— How did you know the killer was here?

— I will give a written report by this evening, — Valria said unexpectedly seriously, holding the gaze of Yana's cold lynx eyes without the slightest embarrassment. — Carlon will add a description of the killer's appearance to it.

— Thank you. — Despite the frankly defiant behavior of the elf, the black-haired girl bowed her head. — This will help us to search.

— In that case, the master and I will leave for now. We need to make sense of today's results and count the bruises. — Valria folded her hands behind her back and smiled. — Lady, can I borrow a couple of silver coins from you? I will personally return it to you as soon as I get the chance.

Lady Yana was silent for a long moment, then pulled the money out from under her belt and handed it to Valria.

Already in the street Carlon shook his head:

— She doesn't seem to trust us...

— The guardsmen usually do not trust anyone except their overlord and each other, — the elf shrugged. — However, if the princess ordered her to believe in us, then she will believe as in herself. Don `t doubt.

— Why do you need money?

— Then we go to the baths.

— We've just been there. — The magician raised his eyebrows in confusion.

— Firstly, civilized beings generally wash themselves every day. Secondly, we need to steam off the bruises. Thirdly... I need to wash my whole body with soap. Urgently. — The girl suddenly shuddered, as if she had taken a sip of undiluted lemon juice. — He touched my ear! Touched my ear!

— Well... uh... When we first met, I also touched your ear, actually, — reminded Carlon. — Before that, I had only seen elves from a distance.

— But you asked me for permission! There is a huge difference...

The captain turned out to be right about one thing — hot water and steam quickly put the master on his feet. He reached the house with the garden, no longer holding on to his back, and no longer groaning at every step. Helping the girl to prepare a quick dinner, the magician asked:

— Aren't you going to use your spy network again? It is unlikely that our friend Peter guessed that the children figured him out.

— Alas, my young watchmen sleep at night. — Valria shook her chin. — And until the morning the bastard will hide in some hole and will not show his nose from there until his time comes. He's not stupid either.

— Then what are your plans next?

— A new day brings new answers. — The elf scratched the ear that the killer had touched. She did this not for the first time in recent hours, as if her ear was itching. — You go to bed, and I will make a report to the employer. And think about this piece of paper.

— Are you sure you don't need my help?

— Of course I need it. But tomorrow at least one of us should be well-rested. — The girl pushed him on the shoulder. — Lie down, come on.

The last sleepless night and daytime adventures exhausted the master to the point of impossibility, so he did not argue. In addition, it was affected by the fact that Carlon resorted to the help of blood magic. Acting in this way, the magician gives energy irrevocably — this part of the power will never return to him, just as spilled blood does not return to the body. Carlon spent only a couple of drops today, and it was enough for him to pass out, barely resting his head on the pillow. The last thing he saw as he fell asleep was Valria leaning over the papers on the table by the light of the oil lamp. The girl's face looked unusually serious.

The master woke up early, from a strong smell. Opening his eyes, he found the elf in the same place, with a steaming mug in her hand. Only then did the magician recognize the smell — it was coffee, a vile taste, but an invigorating drink, popular in lands even south of his homeland. Valria always kept a handful of coffee beans in some kind of hiding place, spending very sparingly.

— I think I have an idea, — she said, noticing that Carlon was awake.

— Good morning to you tooб — grumbled the magician, leaning over his pants. The elf seemed fresh and energetic, causing black envy in Carlon. If only he could endure sleepless nights at the age of one hundred and four!

— Do you have a city map with you? — the girl asked, putting the mug on the table.

— Of course not.

— Neither do I. So get ready. Let's go to the palace.

— Why?

— I'll explain on the spot.

Carlon flatly refused to drink the coffee offered by the captain. On the way, passing through the market square, he had to buy a piece of cake from the stall and drink a glass of strong brewed tea there. Having reached the palace, the master and the elf circled it three times, which was not an easy task, given the size of the complex. Finally, they stopped in front of the main gate, from where they began their first round. Under the stern gaze of the wary sentries, the girl struck her palm with her fist and declared:

— Now everything is clear.

— It's not clear to me, — the panting magician croaked, catching his breath. Valria paused, as usual, savoring the moment. She waited for exactly the moment when the master was ready to grab her by the collar in order to shake her properly, and only then she took out a piece of paper found in the tavern from her pocket:

— It's a shooter's card.

— That is?

— The circles and squares in the picture are the buildings around the palace,"— the elf explained, almost purring with pleasure. She made no secret of how proud she was of herself. — Dotted lines — shooting lines. The numbers are distances, angles, maybe some other calculations. The killer chose a point from which he could shoot at the princess when she appeared on the palace square. Remember the long pouch he slipped out with? I'm ready to argue, there is a gun or something like that.

— But why did he throw away the card?

— Because the map will not be useful to him. — The girl raised her finger. — There are no convenient positions around the palace, all the buildings are too low, and the palace itself is on a hill. Even with some long-range miracle gun from another world, the palace square is not shot through from the outside. He eventually realized this and was upset. Most likely, he would have burned the paper, but we frightened him off in time. In the confusion of fees, he forgot about it.

— Then what do you think he'll do?

— He will come closer. — Valria cupped her chin in her fingers, frowning. — We again need the help of our swarthy friend.

Lady Yana appeared immediately — the messenger had just left the door of the guardhouse and only a minute later returned, accompanied by a guardsman. The black-haired girl took a letter with a report from the elf, listened to her request and, without asking too many questions, led both mercenaries inside. Carlon sighed heavily, realizing Valria's intentions. Premonitions did not deceive — the captain began to cut circles around the palace. Fortunately, in the company of one of the protectors of the princess, they were let through everywhere. The elf was so focused that, tired of walking silently, Carlon preferred to start a conversation with Lady Yana walking alongside.

— Let me ask, lady, — he began, not at all sure that his interlocutor would answer him. — And what happened to the duke's guards? I remember there are three of them.

— Sir Fritz, next to whom the master died, chose to follow the call of honor, — the girl answered calmly. — His body will be buried next to His Highness. Sir Harold and Sir Roland, who were not present in the throne room at the time of the assassination, have already turned to Princess Christina with a request to decide their fate. The princess forbade them to commit suicide and asked them to serve her. So did all her ancestors in similar circumstances. Sirs swore allegiance to the princess, and will continue to serve as simple knights in the palace guards.

Glancing sideways at Carlon, she added:

— I must say that both sirs were eager to participate in the hunt for the killer. But the princess forbade them. Because it's too personal for them. I was assigned to help with the investigation, as even among my sisters in the guard, I am the least prone to succumb to emotions.

— It can be seen. — Valria suddenly stopped, turned to her companions. — Lady, how is this thing inside?

They stood in front of the observatory. The workplace of the ducal astrologer was located on the outskirts, in the corner of the palace fence — so that the light from the windows would not interfere with observations, probably. The observatory itself was a thin round tower topped with a copper dome. The dome, as Carlon knew, could rotate with the telescope installed inside.

— Most of the tower is occupied by a spiral staircase. — The guardswoman tilted her head back to see the entire observatory. — There is no basement. At the very top, under the platform of the telescope, there is a service room, from where servants can take care of the mechanism for turning the dome. Even lower is a large round room. Astrologers used to live in it, but now there is only a library. The current astrologer settled in the palace. He has bad knees.

— Well. — Valria chuckled. — I need to talk to the princess. The faster the better.

— It's impossible. — Lady Yana frowned. — Any questions you can solve with me.

— No, my dear lady, — the elf objected, still smiling. — Only her ladyship can decide this question personally.

They literally caught Princess Christina in the corridor, intercepting her halfway from one meeting to another. Under the heir to the throne, there were no ladies-in-waiting, no other retinue, only one more girl from the guard. Just like Lady Yana, the girl wore a blue uniform, long brown over the knee boots and unadorned silver armor, but otherwise turned out to be her complete opposite. Small and slender as a teenager, with a round high cheekbones face that would suit a smile, warm brown eyes and shoulder-length curly brown hair, she did not look menacing at all. The princess introduced her protector as Lady Emilia and invited everyone to go into the first office they came across, from where the guards put out some kind of clerk. Lady Yana, with a deep bow, apologized to her ladyship for her concern and gave the floor to Valria. She briefly shared her morning discovery and added:

— I examined the palace and came to the conclusion that there are only three points inside the fence, from where it will be possible to hit you with a shot at the time of the coronation, without catching the eyes of the external guard. These are the spire of the temple, the roof of the throne room and the dome of the observatory. But a good killer will choose a place based also on the ability to retreat after a shot. Our adversary is not one of those who will die for an idea, as it seems to me. The palace and temple will be filled with people, including guards. Only the observatory remains. It is not guarded and stands apart from other buildings. In addition, it is located near the fence itself. It is easy to get close to it unnoticed, and if you go down the outer wall of the tower on a rope, then with proper skill you can jump right behind the bars.

— To listen to you, so the killer goes to the palace as to his home, — Christina noticed, sitting down at the table left by the clerk. She gestured for the others to sit down, but the guards remained standing. Lady Yana bowed her head respectfully, placing her hand on her chest.

— Your Grace, the security of the palace relies too heavily on magic. The killer has already shown that he can pass through barriers and alarms. If we subtract the magic element, there will be many holes in the security system that we are not able to quickly detect and close. The inner chambers, for which the guards are responsible, are completely safe, but the rest of the territory is not. But thanks to Lady Valria, we know what to do. I will order to block all positions named by her.

— But this is not worth doing. — The elf, seated opposite the princess, laced her fingers together. — If this attempt fails, the killer will come up with something else. And we will not know where the villain will strike from. Only capturing the killer will really keep your ladyship safe. However, for this you have to let him put his head in the noose. Let him climb into the tower, there we will take him by the throat.

— It's a risk for the madam. — Lady Emilia said softly. Her voice was young and sonorous, to match her appearance.

— Yes. — Lady Yana nodded. — But I must agree with Lady Valria's logic. Leaving the killer free is an even greater risk. We must try. If you agree, Your Grace. — She turned to the princess.

— I agree, — she replied without hesitation. — However, I have a question for you, Lady Valria. What if the killer had already abandoned the shooting plan? If he remembered the lost map? Guessed we'd reveal his intentions?

— Then we just won't give him time to prepare anything else. — The elf smiled. — Such attempts are not organized in one day. Your Grace, that's why I wanted to see you in person. I ask you to move the coronation date as close to today as possible. The best is the day after tomorrow. And announce that your father's funeral will take place in a crypt under the palace, without a public part. So we put the bastard before a choice — either play according to the old plan, or refuse the assassination attempt.

There was silence in the office. The princess and lady Emilia looked seriously dumbfounded, Carlon also almost opened his mouth at such impudence. But Lady Yana, after thinking for a moment, stepped forward and stood next to Valria. Putting her hands behind her back and throwing her chin up, she said firmly:

— 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...

Dallan paused, her hand slipping from the Duchess's.

— Doctor! — Valria growled.

— It's all right — the doctor replied, turning to them for the first time. — She is sleeping. The lungs are not affected, I prevented internal bleeding and removed the bullets.

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 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 Anne 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 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 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... — Valriya 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...

End of second story.

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