Novel 1. Mercenary Company Bright Heads. Story 3. Where all paths converge

Novel 1. Mercenary Company "Bright Heads". Story 3. Where all paths converge

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Yes.

— Then I invite you in for tea.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— Yes. Will you listen to her request?

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

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

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

— That's right. My lady asks you to accompany her on her journey. Besides, the Archmage of the Duchy is dead. Her Highness has only a healer with her. A new archmage from the Imperial University won't be available until after the duchess's homage. — The guardswoman turned to Carlon. — In this regard, Her Highness would be especially pleased to take vaster Carlon into her entourage for the duration of the trip. Even if the Bright Heads do not accept the assignment.

— Yes they will, don't worry, — Valria grinned. — Dallan, you don't mind, do you?

— I... would be happy to defend my mistress again, — the swordswoman said uncertainly. — But may I...

— You won't need to go into the palace, — Lady Emilia reassured her. — We'll be the only guards on the road with Christina. It's all right.

— It's settled, then. — The elf twitched her ears and slammed her fist into her palm. — The order is taken. Have you finished your tea, lady? Then I'll show you out.

— Wait. — The guardswoman rose from her chair, shook off invisible dust from the sleeves of her blue camisole. — The Duchess has one small condition. She believes that your past encounters with the assassin would have ended less miserably if you were better skilled in unarmed combat. We're still a couple of weeks away. I offer you my services as your trainer. The Duchess has given me permission to take half a day off every day to train you.

— Oh! — Valria stood up with an unkind grin and approached her guest closely. The elven woman was tall only for a girl, but Lady Emilia barely reached her chin. — Training with a real guardsman? I don't mind it at all. Why don't you show me your skills right now, lady?

— Why not. — Emilia nodded with a polite smile. — And I'll see what you can do. Shall we go out into the courtyard?

— Why does Valria have such a soft spot for the Guard? — muttered the mage to himself as the elf maiden and her guest stepped outside. — She was very rude to Yana at first, too.

— Because of me, — Dallan replied quietly. She finally pulled away from the jamb and sat down at the table where the window overlooked the courtyard. Carlon sank into a chair beside her. — She's... resentful of the Guard. Because of my past.

— So that's it... — said the Master in a neutral tone. Outside the window, the elfess and the guardsman stood across from each other. Emilia was not wearing a cloak, and Valria had dropped her warm jacket, leaving her in a blouse and vest. Both girls' breaths rose to the gray sky in clouds of steam.

— She's doing it in vain, — the sergeant sighed suddenly. — Emilia and Jana were always on my side. Even in my worst moments. Jana didn't let me die. And Emilia carried food and money when I hadn't even met Valria yet. She took a great risk.

On the other side of the window, the rivals exchanged ceremonial bows, like before a sword duel, and Valria immediately rushed to the attack. For ten minutes the mage and sergeant watched the scene in the courtyard. It was hardly a duel. At last the girls returned to the house. Drenched in snow, disheveled Valria laughed heartily, patted her opponent on the shoulder, trying to stroke her head. Little Lady Emilia, not even a wrinkle in her clothes, shied away from the elfess advances with all possible delicacy.

— Okay, — the captain announced, shaking off the snow doggishly. Her pointed ears perked up. — Carlon, from tomorrow, you'll come to us at two o'clock in the afternoon. We'll embarrass ourselves together.

* * *

In perfect accordance with the predictions of the palace astrologer (who was more often engaged in predicting the weather than in making horoscopes), winter came early and left the duchy earlier than usual. Little Lady Emilia now came to the garden cottage without her cloak, flaunting her costume of armorial colors. Though the streets of the capital drowned in puddles, the girl's soft brown boots never had a drop of mud on them-although she made her way from the palace to the mercenaries' dwelling on foot. Every day the guardswoman raced the trio to the sweat. Her swordsmanship was on par with that of Valria, and even noticeably inferior to Dallan's, but when it came to unarmed combat, only the sergeant could match the duchess' bodyguard. The first training sessions were truly humbling. The frail brown-eyed girl didn't teach them anything, just tested their skills — and at the same time demonstrated how defenseless all three mercenaries were when they didn't have a blade in their hands. Lady Emilia's sincere friendliness, her warm smile, and her attempts to cheer up the overgrown students did not help at all— Carlon still felt as if he had been beaten by a teenage girl. It was not until the fourth day that full lessons began. And the master, who considered himself a man of experience, discovered many new things. He had always known that there were many ways to kill or cripple someone without magic or weapons. But he had never imagined that there could be such a... systematic approach to these ways. It turned out that the science of hand-to-hand combat could be studied as long as the high art of magic. And, of course, the mage realized at once that in two or three weeks you would learn nothing but the very tops. Even with such an infinitely patient and benevolent teacher as Lady Emilia. The tops, however, were enough to make sense of past failures. The skills of an assassin from another world no longer seemed supernatural-just unfamiliar. Nothing beyond the abilities of an ordinary man. Nothing that could not be resisted.

Three days before the beginning of spring, Emilia arrived earlier than usual, dressed in her uniform and armor, her sword in a sling.

— I'm sorry, there will be no lesson today, — she said as she crossed the threshold of the lodge. — Her Highness will be leaving in a few hours. Captain Valria and Master Carlon are invited to the palace.

— So suddenly... — the mage, who had been sitting in an armchair with a book, frowned.

— The exact time of the Duchess' departure from the palace is always known only to her and the guardsmen, — the brown-eyed girl replied. — A mere precaution.

— Well, — Valria rose from the table where she had been munching breadcrumbs with milk and picked up her leather gloves from the windowsill. — It's time to go. Dallan, get our bags and horses ready, and meet us outside the gate.

Since the assassination of the last ruler, palace security has been tightened, but the Lady Guardian and her companions were allowed inside without question, as before. After passing the cordegardia, Emilia led the mage and elfish girl not to the main building, but somewhere to the right, along the fence. As Carlon realized with surprise, it was toward the menagerie. The Elvartian menagerie was second only to the imperial one in size and wealth. It occupied three squat buildings, one of which was a greenhouse where thermophilic beasts from the far south were kept in winter. More recently, the living gifts from the overseas colonies had also been housed there-the creatures caught in the damp forests of Ludria were frozen in Elvart even in the summer. It was to this glass-roofed enclosure that their escort made her way. The open door smelled so hot that the mage hurriedly unbuttoned his jacket beforehand. Walking between the aviary, where red-and-yellow birds were jumping restlessly on a fine netting, and the pen with sleepy desert antelope, all three of them found themselves on a circular platform. The door of a large cage overlooked the court. In the cage, a bipedal lizard, already familiar to the mage, sat on the floor, brought as a gift to the late duke, and before the door stood... Duchess Christina the Second in her own right.

— Your Highness, — Lady Emilia bowed to her. Valria and Carlon followed the Guardsman's example.

— Good day, Emilia. Good day, Captain, Master... — The Duchess averted her gaze from the lizard and turned to the new arrivals. — Frankly, I've spent the last quarter of an hour trying to figure out what you're interested in this creature, Lady Valria. I received your letter.

— That's good, Your Highness. — The elf-woman walked rather unceremoniously past the duchess and stopped in front of the steel bars. She tapped them with her bent finger, catching the lizard's attention. It got up from the straw thatch and came closer. He stared at the girl with his unblinking, round eyes. Valria, deliberately slow, pulled her gloves off her hands and tucked them behind her belt. She took off her dapper leather jacket, with its white fur collar, and held it out to the lizard through the bars. The overseas beast took another step forward, raised its clawed paw... and grabbed the captain's hand, sinking its sharp claws deep into the back of her wrist.

— Lady Valria! — The guardian jerked forward, striking her sword, but the elfess stopped her with a gesture. Blood trickled thinly down the girl's arm, pooling at the wrist, but she made no attempt to free it. The captain stared into the lizard's eyes as she continued to hold out her jacket for him. The lizard stood motionless as well, running its claws full length into Velria's flesh. Finally, he hissed softly, opening his mouth, and withdrew his paw. As if hesitating for a moment, he took the girl's jacket, threw it over his shoulders in a perfectly human motion. He leaned forward and ... quickly licked the wounds left by his claws on the girl's arm with his long thin tongue. Then he returned to the couch and sat down, wrapped in his gifted jacket.

— Impressive, — Christine said at last. The duchess' composure allowed her to maintain a nonchalant tone, but it was clear that she was really impressed by what she saw.

— Here we are. — Valria turned to the ruler, lowering her hand. Blood was now dripping down the elf's fingers, dripping heavy dark droplets onto the floor. — Will you honor my request, Your Highness? Will you give the creature to me?

— I think I will, — the duchess nodded gravely. — We'll discuss this matter in more detail when we return from the Empire. But you may consider it resolved in your favor.

— Thank you, Your Highness. — The captain bowed her head respectfully. The mage went to her to examine her wounds, but the Lady Emilia beat him to it. The young guardswoman drew a length of clean cloth from purse on her belt, knelt beside Valria, and deftly worked on her palm. As if unaware of it, the mercenary continued:

— If the throne requires bail, I can offer you my family treasure, a priceless silver watermelon adorned with gilt. But I presume, Your Highness, that you have not invited me to meet you in person only to answer my letter.

— You are right, Captain. — Christina the Second let Lady Emilia finish, stepped away from the lizard's cage. The others followed her, into the passage between the bird house and the antelope enclosure. — Actually, I just wanted to ask you one thing. You and the master are the only ones who have looked my father's murderer in the eye. You've even spoken to him. You're the only one who can get an idea of him... as a person.

— Oh, yes. — Valria fixed the gold strand that had fallen from her temple. — He stroked my ear, which is part of the mating ritual, by the way.

Carlon, who had also once touched an elf's ears, could hardly keep from exclaiming, "Really?!"

— I understand your irony, — the young duchess smiled weakly. — But I would still like to hear... is he stubborn? Will he want to finish the job, even if he fails and someone else is assigned to do it?

— I have no idea, — Valria shrugged. The colored birds in the aviary grew restless for some reason, started running and flapping their wings, and the greenhouse was abuzz with the kind of shrieks an angry donkey would envy. — But I think this Peter is a narcissistic degenerate who thinks he is the protagonist of a heroic ballad. He has every reason to think he's invincible and all his failures are temporary. If this is about an assassination attempt on you, I'm betting he'll try again. To prove to himself that he's invincible. That he is the protagonist.

Christina nodded slowly:

— That's the answer I was hoping for. What about you, captain? Are you willing to challenge the alien, even if it becomes... financially unreasonable?

Valria didn't answer right away. She pulled a glove over her healthy left hand first, tucking the sleeve of her blouse into it. She shrugged again:

— Maybe.

— If the alien chooses me as his target, the only two forces that can stop him are you and my guardsmen, — the Duchess said frankly.

— And you would have preferred us to take the first blow. — The girl smiled crookedly, pulling on her second glove. — Voluntarily and gladly. Because you can still get new mercenaries, but you can't get new guardsmen.

It seemed to Carlon that Christina the Second's cheek twitched. But he would not bet on it. Nevertheless, the Duchess replied calmly, in a relaxed tone:

— You are very sympathetic to me, Lady Valria. But Jana and I played as children. For as long as I can remember, she has always been there. All my life. In our games, Jana was the knight and I was the princess. I remember one day I was sitting on a gilded chair in my father's office, like a throne. Jana held out her toy wooden sword to me and swore that she would die defending my life and my honor. Then we both grew up. And Jana actually died defending my life. And either of her sisters would not hesitate to die — for my life, my honor. I want to give them as little reason as possible for this noble act.

— Madam... — The flushed Lady Emilia began excitedly, but the young ruler silenced her with a wave of her hand:

— So, Lady Valria, I'll ask you again...

— Don't worry, Your Highness. — Valeria's crooked chuckle turned into her usual charming smile. — When the unworthy Sir Peter comes at you again, Dallan, Carlon, and I will finish him off. And we won't die in the process.

They left the greenhouse alone, Lady Emilia staying with the Duchess. Once outside, Valria shuddered, wrapping her gloved hands around her shoulders. Quietly she cursed under her breath.

— So, according to the results of the meeting with Her Highness Christina the Second, Duchess of Elvart, you have a holes in your palm and no warm clothes, — stated the mage melancholy. — A stunning result for an audience.

— But I have my own overseas lizard! — The girl protested. — And I may be rid of that watermelon at last...

They spent the rest of their time before their departure in one of the innumerable sitting rooms of the palace, emptying a vase of fruit that had been found on the table. Valria had no chance to freeze. The kind-hearted Lady Emilia sent a servant with a winter uniform cloak, judging by the length of it to be her own. It was the cloak the captain wore when the cortege assembled. The first to leave the palace was a column of armored cavalry, followed by the duchess's carriage, carts with her entourage, and carts of convoy. At the back of the line was another cavalry unit. Seven ducal guardsmen rode beside Christina's carriage — and the sight was pleasing to the eye. After all, appearance was also taken into account in the selection of future defenders of the ruler. Naturally, one cannot always tell what a three-year-old child will grow up to be, but in the case of Christina's bodyguards, the recruiters were not wrong once. All of the girls were in their best, real beauties. Their white and blue uniforms and brown boots were flawless, their cuirasses, armlets, and gauntlets gleaming in silver, standing out against the gray armor of the rest of the escort. Since the guardsmen wore helmets only in time of war or street unrest, the girls' heads were covered by dainty blue berets adorned with white feathers. Silver helmets-morions with curved margins and low crests-were, however, secured to their saddles. With a professional eye, Carlo noticed that in addition to their swords, two of the girls carried long, silver-plated arquebuses by their saddles, while the others had crossbows with them. This pleased the mage — it means that the guardsmen can defend themselves not only in close combat.

— It's a good thing we're traveling by land, — said Valria, following the slow moving wagons out of the gate. — It would have been safer for Her Highness to travel by sea... but I would have refused. Stuck in the middle of the water on a piece of rotting wood... Brrrr... — She shivered.

— I didn't think there was anything you didn't want to do with your life, — the mage grinned.

— Actually, there are quite a few things I'd never want to do. Though most of them are very intimate matters... — the elfess spotted Dallan at the end of the street leading their horses and waved to the sergeant. She waved back. — So the journey begins with the first step. I'll bet you a slap bet, how many days till we're in trouble? My money's on ten...

* * *

Valria received her honestly lost slap on the eleventh morning of the trip. Fearing revenge, Carlon showed considerable guile. He delegated the slap to Sergeant Dallan. She spared no mercy for her friend...

The ten days that the elfess had envisioned passed unnoticed. The first week of the ducal cortege traveled through the lands of Elvart, from city to city, from castle to castle. There was virtually no overnight stay in the field, though Valria and Carlon agreed that it would be easier to ensure Her Highness's safety that way. Lady Emilia, after listening to them, agreed, but noted that if the new duchess avoided her subjects, it might make a strange impression. So the route was not changed.

The mercenaries faithfully earned their money, working side by side with the guards. At each stop, Valria calculated the positions where a shooter who wanted to get to Christina might be sitting, checked them out, placed secrets. Carlon set magical alarms, looked for traps along the route and in the staging areas — after all, there were other threats besides an alien immune to magic. Dallan simply stayed close to the duchess. The Master feared at first that the sergeant might have trouble with the guardsmen, but nothing terrible happened. When the green-eyed girl joined the escort, she simply exchanged nods with the other bodyguards and that was it. The mage began to suspect that the nods to the guardsmen had some hidden meaning, incomprehensible to an outsider.

On the eighth day, the mountains loomed ahead. The low, wooded mountain range that bounded Elvart to the south belonged to the home principality of Valria. The border of elven lands was not marked in any way, but before sunset the caravan was met by a group of elven riders. They gave Christina the Second greetings from the forest prince and offered to lead the people through the pass. The duchess, of course, agreed. Valria frowned as she watched their conversation.

— What, you don't like having someone older than you around? — The master wondered sarcastically. The elf riders looked his age, which meant they were about four hundred or five hundred years old. The captain only snorted in response.

And soon the journey for the mage was not only peaceful, but pleasant.

The pass that bisected the mountain range was well traveled, with countless trade wagons stretching across it from the seashore to the Empire and back year round. The elves, of course, had lavished the place with supplies of taverns, stalls, stables, and so on. The Duchess' train had made a long day's stop at the highest point of the pass, and Carlon took advantage of the respite to break his own commandment to never trade with elves. A shop adorned with a carved sign, "Gifts of Kan," caught his eye. Elven god Kan patronized healers, and his gifts were called all sorts of medicinal herbs, mushrooms, and moss by the pointed-eared forest dwellers. The mage decided for himself that the risk of going broke justified the benefit — here for sure he could find in fresh form some ingredients that are usually sold dried. Mentally preparing himself for a fierce bargain, the wizard crossed the threshold of the shop... and found that the bargainers inside were already bargaining without him. One of the girl guardsmen was arguing with the young, snub-nosed elf behind the counter. Carlon only knew her by name. Lady Maria was a tall but thin blonde with almost white hair, very pale delicate skin, and, unexpectedly, bright blue eyes. She was half a head taller than her sisters and had the longest hairstyle among them — her straight hair fell below her shoulder blades in a ponytail. He'd exchanged a few words with the blue-eyed lady over the past week, nothing more. Now, he was astonished to realize that she was trying to buy the ingredients for a simple heartburn potion. She didn't have enough money for the whole kit, solely because the elfish saleswoman had jacked up the price fivefold.

— Let me advise you, lady... — Carlon said politely, standing beside the guardswoman. The ensuing quarter of an hour was a battle, where the wizard had to use all his knowledge of alchemy, herbology, and continental pricing. Even so, the only thing that saved him was the fact that the elfess was slightly older than Valria, and not yet very experienced in her craft. In the end, the price for the Lady Maria was tripled, and the master had enough money to buy the rare toadstool root of the north. Outside, the Lady Mary, clutching the bundle of purchases to her chest, said to Carlon:

— Please accept my gratitude, Master. I... don't know much about trade. We rarely have to buy things ourselves. You've just helped me out.

— It was nothing, — the mage smiled. — Pleasure to help. What do you want with the alchemical goods, by any chance?

— They are not for me. Sir Roland has a stomach ache, but he tries to hide it. I noticed, so I thought I'd sneak him a potion at the next resting place. Let him drink it while no one's looking.

The two old guardsmen from the dead duke's guard were now leading a cavalry escort. Each led half a hundred reithars — heavy riders, armed and trained at the expense of the duchy's treasury. Reitars were the pride of Elvart, in the last war the duchy fielded two cavalry corps of five hundred men each.

— And who will prepare the medicine? — The mage inquired as he and the girl made their way toward the inn, which was occupied by Christina's retinue. — Ask the court healer?

— If Sir Roland does not wish to involve him, neither will I. — A faint smile crossed the guardsman's pale lips. The mage barely noticed it. — It is not difficult for me to do myself. There will be time at night, after duty...

— You can make potions? — The wizard raised his eyebrows. His surprise might have offended the girl, but he could not help it. It was seldom that Carlon encountered a man capable of something of the sort, and who had never been to a medicine school.

— Only the healing ones. — Fortunately, Lady Mary paid no attention to his tactlessness. — All Guardsmen are taught the basics of first aid from childhood, but I have studied medicine a little deeper than my sisters. I had no magical gift, of course. Combinations of herbs, potions, that sort of thing. It's even more interesting that way. Christina always encouraged my hobby.

In the lobby of the hotel, the wizard and the guardsman went their separate ways. However, when the cortege set off, they met again at the duchess's carriage. All the way down the pass, Carlon and Lady Maria rode head to head, chatting under Valria's mocking gaze. They had many topics in common. Both were self-taught in the healing arts, the difference being that the girl learned more from books and the wizard from the military healers of various regiments. Several medical treatises from the palace library the guardswoman carried with her, in her swag bags. She turned out to be a wonderful companion — more reserved than Lady Emilia, but well-read and friendly.

A day later, Carlon saw Lady Mary in the dining hall of another inn and invited her to share the table with him. Over tea and cookies they again talked about potions, herbs and decocts, but by the end of the meal they moved on to more personal topics. As a matter of fact, the Duchess' bodyguard had almost no personal topics, and Karlon was the main one to talk about — fortunately, he had something to tell. Before going to bed, Lady Maria looked into his room and left the magician a book on the treatment of skin ulcers. They discussed it all the next day as they rode side by side again behind Christina's carriage. Valria, who had been fidgeting nearby, listened for about ten minutes to what they were talking about and left with her face turned green and her ears pressed to her head. That same evening, the mage and the guardsman dined alone, not in the common room, but in the room assigned to the master. Day after day, Carlon found himself spending more time in the company of the duke's bodyguard than with the mercenaries. And when it became clear that the lady who was in charge of the duty Emilia specifically assigns Maria only day watch that she remained free in the evenings, the magician felt uncomfortable. Not for long, though. Valria and Dallan kept each other company, and evenings with Lady Maria brightened the mage's monotonous journey. At the end of the day that the elfess lost her wager, the train reached the borders of the Empire, and overnighted in a border town. The Burgomaster had set aside his own mansion for Christina's companions, and in the late afternoon, having finished setting up the alarms, Carlon secluded himself and Maria in a cozy room on the second floor. They were reading a book, sitting on the sofa and touching each other's shoulders, when the girl guardsman suddenly asked, without taking her eyes off the book pages:

— Carlon, do I seem beautiful to you?

— You seem beautiful to me, lady, — the mage replied without hesitation. In the first place, that's the only way to answer such questions, and secondly, he was telling the truth. Lady Mary carefully removed the book from her lap, laid the desired page with a cloth strip, and then hugged the master by the shoulders and drew him to her. Their first kiss was brief — the girl pulled away almost immediately, said earnestly, looking Carlon in the eyes:

— Please don't take this too seriously. We can have a good time, that's all. But it will all be over when the road separates us. We won't owe each other anything. I won't forget about you, of course. You're defending Christine, too...

— Don't tell me that's what you liked about me, lady, — Carlon grinned crookedly, feeling like a teenager on a first date again.

— Not only that, — the lady bodyguard answered him with a faint smile. — Don't you worry. But again, don't think about love. If it's difficult for you, we'd better not go on.

— Everything is all right. — The magician gently stroked the soft hair of the girl, not taking his eyes off her bright eyes. — I am hard enough to fulfill your request. But...

A new kiss prevented him from speaking. Carlon had only time to think that the sofa was too small for two, when Lady Maria yanked him to the floor, on the fluffy white carpet...

* * *

— Knowledge of medicine can be useful not only to cure people, — Lady Maria whispered in Carlon's ear as they lay, tired and happy, snuggled together on the carpet. — By studying anatomy, you learn how best to hurt a man, to kill him, to disarm him... or how to make him feel good.

— You should know, lady, how people sometimes use magic for purposes other than its intended use... — smiled the master. Even now they addressed each other formally — so that they wouldn't make the mistake later, in public.

— It will be an interesting experience for me. Shall we try something? — The girl's pale lips also touched a smile. The guardswoman always smiled the same way, barely noticeable. Not particularly pretty, not too warm — a world away from Lady Emilia's sunny smile. Carlon didn't care. He admired Maria's face in the moonlight falling from the high window. And he thought that Valeria was perhaps prettier, Dallan brighter, Emilia sweeter, and there was some special attraction in Lady Jana, unusual and exotic. But not one of them did the mage ever want to kiss. Especially Valria. But Maria did. And he kissed her immediately, since nothing prevented him from doing so. For a while, they found themselves busy again. Afterwards, the mage dozed off, hugging the girl from behind, his nose against the back of her neck. He had no recollection of the Guardsmen visiting the baths during their stops, but the Lady Maria appeared fresh and clean, as if just out of a hot bath, and her hair smelled faintly of something floral. The girl's blue beret, tossed on the couch, glowed faintly with magic when Carlon closed his eyes — it probably explained everything...

The guardswoman left an hour before dawn. She gave the master a long kiss and dressed very leisurely, giving him the last chance to admire her thin frame, long slender legs, and high firm breasts. Carlon did not lie down on the couch, being left alone, but instead opened the window and looked at the fading stars until he was completely frozen. The mage could not read the constellations, but it seemed to him that the stars were winking and trying to say something — but the voices were inaudible because of the distance. In the morning, when the cortege set out on the road, he and Maria acted as if nothing had changed. They still tried to ride side by side whenever possible, still chatted about magic and healing. But the sleepless night was taking its toll — the Master was finding it increasingly difficult to keep up with the conversation, his thoughts confused. The girl noticed this and delicately put the conversation to rest. It was her turn to ride at the door of the duke's carriage, so Carlon fell a little behind. Rocking his saddle, he began to doze off, but Valria, riding quietly up behind him, folded her palms into a funnel, whistled right into his ear. The wizard, who had not expected such treachery, almost fell at his own horse's feet, but the elfess caught his elbow in time. She said, smirking:

— You've relaxed. And if an enemy had attacked?

— I would have died, — Master did not argue.

— But happy, at least. — The captain pushed him on the shoulder. — Traitor.

— I don't understand. Do you have plans for me, or are you jealous? — Carlon raised his eyebrows.

— I want my personal mage to be able to sleep and fight. Once, all right, but don't go back to sleep every night. — Valria wagged a finger at him. — Well, I'm jealous, too. When a pretty girl has such long legs, and at that height, she can use them...

Dallan, who had joined the mage and the elfess, silently reached out and snatched the hat from Valria's head and placed it in her lap.

— Hey! — the elf said indignantly. The sergeant clutched the hat with her palm, not letting her take it back. And Carlon thought that they all got a little too relaxed. Even the perpetually collected and serious Dallan. A brief raid in the Deadlands came to his mind. Back then, all three of them had been alert, day and night, and had behaved very differently. The trip in the duke's cortege, with overnight stays on padded beds, surrounded by a crowd of soldiers, had stripped them of all vigilance. It was not perceived as a mission — more like entertainment. It could have ended badly.

Meanwhile, Christina's escort doubled in size. The caravan was met by a squadron of clibanaries, imperial raiders who had not only their riders armored, but their horses as well. The squadron had left Garlont, the Imperial capital, a few days ago, and was carrying a cage of carrier pigeons. One pigeon headed back immediately, carrying a letter from the commander of the clibanarians to the imperial palace.

A final stop awaited the train a day's march from its destination. In the sunset rays before the travelers grew a black-stone castle — judging by the architecture, built centuries ago, when guns did not yet reign on the battlefield.

— This is the property of Count Cyril Konstaninakis, — said Duchess Christina, looking out the carriage window. — My kinsman by father. That's someone I don't want to visit, but I have to.

— Did something happen between you two? — Valria asked in her most polite tone a tactless question.

— Not personally, — the Duchess sighed. — The Earl's sons were all officers in the Reithar corps and died in the war. He quarreled with my father, sold all his possessions in Elvart, and left here. I don't think he would be happy to see me. But I can't ignore him, it would be too rude. Besides, Cyril is in his seventies. After his death, the castle will go to me — the Count has no closer relatives. The castle, as far as I know, is dilapidated, but Elvart could use a piece of land in the Empire.

As it turned out an hour later, Her Highness was even understating it. There was a village leaning against the black walls, surprisingly small and impoverished, given the proximity of the capital. The castle itself, to all appearances, was supported solely by the talent of ancient architects. There were no sentries visible between the scratched battlements, the chains of the folding bridge were covered with rust, except that the ditch with water was kept in good order. It was not even the seneschal of the castle surrounded by guards who rode out to greet the honored guests, but a lonely elderly servant. Stammering and forgetting words, he handed the young duchess an invitation to a dinner in her honor. However, the servant added, the count has to apologize — he has very little money, so the table can be covered only for a few people.

— His lordship need not be alarmed. — Christina the Second gave the servant a gracious smile. — My men will stand at rest in the village and provide for themselves.

Letting the old man go, she turned to Valeria and Carlon and said:

— Well, that's what I was talking about. Father's cousin is no more excited about our meeting than I am. Let's not make him angry. I'll take three of you, four guardsmen and Sir Roland. You're not going as guards, you're going as my guests. Lady Valria is a noblewoman without a title, as I recall?

— Imperial, — the elfess nodded. — A personal noblewoman without the right to inherit nobility.

— Well, you will be my companion tonight, and the master and sergeant are your entourage.

— You won't even take your maid of honor and secretary, Your Highness? — Carlon inquired.

— If the Earl has no men to serve at the table, one of my guards will handle it. — Christina II squinted. — My girls have not only been trained to fight, Master. They know etiquette, and the Lady Maria, for instance, dances beautifully. Invite her over sometime, if you get the chance, and see for yourself.

Carlon had enough self-control not to blush. But he breathed a sigh of relief when the Duchess left.

— I think Her Highness seriously expects her cousin to try to stab her during dinner. — Valria snorted, rubbing her chin. — I'll change my gloves for parade gloves...

Konstantinakis' castle looked even worse from inside. Some time ago it was rebuilt inside, adding a stone staircase and two four-story wings to the round central tower-donjon. These rectangular buildings, which were connected to the donjon, were not yet dilapidated, and the tower itself loomed menacingly over the courtyard. But the rest of the castle was in danger of crumbling to rubble or wood chippings at the blast of the wind. Carlon lowered his eyelids and began to see a greenish glow along the walls. The fortress amulets were still working, though they could use a boost. A fading greenish glow was visible through the thick walls of the main tower, which were probably the Earl's chambers, additionally protected from magic and otherworldly foes.

The servants — this time young and rather unkemptly dressed — first led the guests to the south wing. They were given half a dozen rooms on the second floor, and the Duchess' apartments were no different from the rest. This was an insult, but Christina the Second did not show it — before she let the servants go, she had Lady Emilia give them a coin each. In addition to the little brown-eyed girl and the huge black-bearded Sir Roland, the ruler of Elvart was accompanied by Maria and two redheaded twins from the Guard — Lady Adela and Lady Kaya. Carlon had somehow expected the twins to have consonant names, and was foolishly disappointed when they were introduced. They were not allowed to settle in for long — when darkness fell and torches began to be lit on the walls, an elderly servant acquaintance showed up to escort them all to dinner. It was a long walk since the great hall was situated in the third floor of the opposite wing.

— Your Highness, I would advise you to leave the castle after dinner and spend the night in the escort's camp, — Valria suggested as they made their way down the long, damp corridors. She made no attempt to lower her voice, despite the presence of the earl's servant.

— It hardly seems justified, — Christina protested in a polite tone. — But I will consider your suggestion, lady.

The main dining hall of the castle was a circular room with a high ceiling and blank walls. The walls were decorated with numerous carpets, tapestries, draperies — dark from dampness and age. Long tables, capable of holding forty persons, were lined up in a U-shape, the open end of which faced the only entrance. At the other end, on a high carved armchair, sat the owner, a dry bald old man, as decrepit in appearance as his dwelling.

— Hello, Christine, my girl, — he greeted the Duchess of Elvart in an unexpectedly young voice. — Forgive me for not standing up in your presence, my knees are quite weak.

The faces of the guardsmen darkened. Sir Roland frowned, one of the redheaded twins even put her palm on the hilt of her sword. But the duchess replied with a smile:

— Of course, Count, I understand. Sit down, it's all right.

— Then you sit down too, and quickly. Warming the food again is a waste of firewood, and I have not enough.

Christina was given a place of honor next to the master of the castle, the mercenaries were seated a little farther away. Emilia and Sir Roland stood behind their mistress, the remaining guardsmen lined up along the wall, where they froze as only they could. Dinner began in an unpleasant atmosphere. The Earl and Duchess exchanged idle small talk, with Sir Cyril failing to watch his tongue and constantly balancing on the edge of open boorishness. Only two young servants served simple meals. Carlon noticed that over each plate served, Her Highness passed her right hand, then looked intently at the ring adorning her hand. The Master could sense no magic in the ring, but it looked as if it must somehow reveal the poison in the food. It was clear from the way Christina deliberately made these checks that she was not really afraid of poison, but was simply responding gracefully to her kinsman's rudeness. In the end, after taking an especially large sip of wine from the dull gold cup, the master coughed so that the servant had to hit him on the back.

— Please forgive me... — the earl squeezed through his cramped chest. — But I must take my leave. Enjoy... without me...

The servants led the lord out of the hall under his arms and closed the high double doors behind them. There was a clang on the other side. The redheaded twins glanced at each other and dashed for the door. They jerked the handles without hesitation. The doors didn't budge. And then Carlson realized, belatedly, that the guests were alone.

— I didn't think he'd really dare... — the Duchess began quietly. Master couldn't hear the end of the sentence as a wave of cold swept over him, as if he'd been caught naked in a winter wind with torrents of snow. The mage gasped, closed his eyes and saw only a blinding white light that veiled his inner vision.

— Beware! — He shouted hoarsely, jumping up and overturning a chair. But he could not say what to beware of, because he himself did not understand it yet. It took him a few seconds to realize it. In several places in the refectory, ghostly swamp lights lit up, and around them began to thicken columns of gray fog — still slim.

— Everyone to the center of the room! Follow me! — The mage bellowed, leaping across the table and picking up the large china salt-cellar. — It's a summons! Demons are summoned into the room!

The middle of the hall remained free of the swamp lights for now, and, standing precisely in the center, the master began hastily pouring a circle of salt there. Wide enough to accommodate nine people. And the misty pillars, gradually taking on clearer and clearer shapes, reached out for the men. Sir Roland grabbed the Duchess by the shoulders and practically threw her over the tabletop. Together with her, Emilia, and Maria, he rushed toward the master. But Valria was the first to run up to him — holding a salt shaker in each hand.

— What is to be done? — She asked briefly.

— We draw a circle on the floor.

— Copy that. — Without further ado, the elfess tossed a single salt-cellar to Dallan and knelt beside him. He was laboriously drawing a thin white line, his scruff feeling the cold from the approaching creatures. He didn't have time. Just sprinkling salt on the floor wasn't an option; the mage needed a clean, solid line. And the demons, not yet fully out in the world of the living, were drawn irresistibly toward humans. The two creatures sailed through the air toward the twins, cut off from the others, and the mage had already decided that the redheaded girls were finished. But he underestimated the guardsmen. Lady Adela was the first to rip the thin silver chain from her belt, Kaya followed suit a moment later. The air rumbled as a shimmering circle appeared before Adela. The girl spun the chain in front of her with such speed that it became impossible to see. And the nearest demon staggered back, backing away from the whistling silver. With these shields of sorts, the twins paced through the hall. Chains also appeared in the hands of their sworn sisters. The Lady Maria stood beside Carlon, ready to protect him and Valria, Emilia drove the too bold demon away from Christina. When the red-headed guardsmen reached the center of the refectory, the mage closed the circle at one end, the elfess at the other. Carlon touched the salt with his fingertips, uttered a short magical formula, and poured a bolt of energy into the circle at once. He squeezed his eyes shut to see if it worked. It worked. The uneven but unbroken circle of salt glowed with white flame to the inner eye. And another circle of exactly the same flame encompassed the entire perimeter of the room. And beneath the carpets covering the floor, a different kind of line burned — purple, intertwined in an intricate pattern.

— You damned bastard, — the mage hissed, as he straightened.

— What on earth is going on, Master? — The Duchess asked him. So calmly, as if she'd caught the wizard doing something harmless, like playing paper boats in the palace fountain. She did not look frightened. — Did you get it yet?

— The whole room is a great circle of summoning, a gateway to the underworld. — Carlon said grimly, looking around. — One-way. Someone let a bunch of demons in here and locked them in with us. I didn't notice anything, because the lines weren't energized until the last second. So the demonologist is out there somewhere. He activated the protective circle and performed the summoning ritual as soon as the Count came out into the hallway. The demons would drink the life out of us if we hesitated. A clever trap. Swords and armor cannot defend against such a threat.

— But you saved us, master.

— Perhaps not for long. And the Lady Guards helped me. What's with the chains? It's a superstition, isn't it, that silver drives away evil spirits?

— It's not the silver itself, it's the amulets. — The Lady Mary handed the Maestro her chain of thin links, with a round weight on the end. Carlon had seen them on guard belts before, but he'd considered them mere decoration. — There was little magic in them so it did not weaken from their proximity to the steel armor. There is no way to exorcise or disembowel such a demon, only to frighten.

— We're safe now, relatively. — The mage bit his lip. Around the invisible wall that rose from the salt circle, a dozen or two demons had gathered. They had finally formed their etheric bodies. Not completely material, but allowing them to interact with the mortal world. The bodies looked... peculiar. Some looked human, some looked like a bundle of long thin arms, fastened to an invisible core, some looked like a miniature dragon. The weakest of the demons were not fully formed, and the objects behind them peered through their shaky gray carcasses. The creatures made snapping and clanking noises that sounded like they were coming from a deep well.

— They can't get into the circle, we can't get out, eh. — Valria's ears twitched. The elven woman stood at the very barrier, her palm on the sheath of her sword, the only weapon she had. The girl had left the crossbows in the room. — The escort would stir in the morning. If the Earl is in on the plot, he might spit something to them and buy more time. One good thing, the human killers won't come here, either, most likely. They'll be gone by dawn, won't they?

— No, — the mage shook his head. — It's the sunlight they fear, not the coming of day. There are no windows in the room. Well, they'll be weaker in the daytime, but that won't do us much good.

— So we can only wait, — Christina sighed.

But the otherworldly creatures didn't let them wait patiently for help to come. Once they realized that their prey was beyond the impenetrable barrier, the demons became frantic. They scurried around the dining hall, beating on the outer protective ring, knocking the wind out of them. Then the creatures gathered in a horde around the food trays and started flying through them, making them jump and quiver. The mage didn't immediately understand why they were doing this. But then a jug of wine tipped over on the nearest table. Another followed by another, then a bowl of oil... Wine, oil, milk, and other liquids poured onto the floor.

— Lady Emilia. — Gritting his teeth, Carlon turned to the little girl, pointed to the rapidly spreading puddles. — Get your chains ready. If the salt washes out...

And it looked like it was going to. The puddles, a mixture of everything liquid that was on the tables, were getting wider and wider, threatening to touch the salt circle. The girl guardsmen huddled together in a group of gleaming silver armor, shielding Christina with their bodies. Each took a sword in her right hand and an amulet in her left. Valria and Dallan drew their blades as if that would do more to help them. Sir Roland — huge, bearded, in black mourning armor — drew an axe from a leather ring on his belt. He muttered:

— When the circle is broken, I'll try to cut through the door. Have the girls cover me and Christina. Then just run from the room.

— Good plan, sir, — the Duchess said softly. — I'll make a correction to it.

Christina stepped forward, spreading her bodyguards apart, and placed her right hand clenched in a fist against her chest. She spoke loudly and clearly:

— I call upon the oath.

For a second or two nothing happened. Then, one step in front of the duchess, the air began to thicken. There was exactly the same column of mist as when the demon appeared, only without the swamp fire inside. The gray blob grew denser, taking on the form of a slender female figure. Colors other than gray appeared. Karlon saw more and more details. Recognizable details. Brown skin. Short black hair. A blue guardsman's uniform. Soft brown knee-high boots. Silver cuirass with shoulder pads, the same armlets and gauntlets. A long cloak slung over her shoulders... Finally taking her form, the girl guardsman drew a narrow, straight sword from its sheath and saluted the duchess and her companions. Meeting her gaze with the master, she smiled at him. This smile, seen only once before, dispelled the last doubts.

— Lady Jana... — he astonished mage exhaled.

The black-haired girl seemed woven of rare smoke and dense air, her yellow lynx eyes faintly glowing with golden fire. And yet it was, beyond all doubt, Lady Jana. Not just her illusory image — the look in her burning eyes was completely meaningful and familiar.

The girl, woven out of thin air, turned to face the rampaging creatures. She stepped toward the invisible barrier. Raising her left hand, she clenched her thin, silver-clad fingers into a fist. Carlon understood her. Falling to his knees, he slashed the salt line with the edge of his palm. The snapping and grunting of the creatures became a roar, and the disembodied swarm rushed into the breach. Where Lady Jana awaited them. The ghostly blade of a dead guard sliced off the long-fingered paw of the swiftest demon as though it were flesh and blood. The demon shook, staggered backward with a croak. Wasting no time, Jana leaped into the midst of the creatures and whirled there, wielding her sword furiously.

— Roland, Adela, Kaya! — In a truly general's voice, the Duchess of Elvart shouted. The old knight and the redheaded twins jumped out of the protective circle, which Carlon closed behind them again. Without interruption, Sir Roland ran to the door and brought his axe down upon the flaps. The twins stood behind him, spinning silver chains — several demons, distracted by Lady Jana, rushed toward the men who had left the circle. Just in time. The ghost guard fought the demons equally — but there were twenty of them against one. Only the yellow-eyed girl's lifetime combat skills helped her to withstand the many foes. On her arms and cuirass appeared shimmering white light scars — marks from the touch of otherworldly monsters. Jana retreated, dragging her enemies behind her, but it was clear that in a matter of seconds she would be crushed.

— Ehk... ehk! — Sir Roland, with a grunt, finally broke through the oak sash. With two more blows he smashed the outer bolt, kicked the door open... Crossbows clicked. Three arrows struck the old knight in the chest, piercing the thin black cuirass like a sheet of paper, the fourth hit the lady Adela in the back, entering under the left shoulder pad, two more did not reach their targets. Half a dozen of the earl's servants, waiting in the corridor with crossbows at the ready, hurried to reload their weapons. Not in time. A triple blow to the chest forced Sir Roland to retreat a step back, but the black-bearded knight, coughing up blood, raised his axe above his head and with a full swing dropped it...on the threshold of the refectory, immediately collapsing beside it. The pack of demons that had surrounded Lady Jana suddenly forgot about her, rushing to the door. Lady Kaya, grabbing her wounded sister, jumped aside with her, and the otherworldly horde rushed past them into the corridor. The savage screams of demon-eating servants lasted only half a minute, and then there was a dead silence in the dining hall.

Sir Roland stretched across the threshold, showing no signs of life. The redheaded Lady Kaya was hugging her sister tightly. The others were still standing inside the salt circle, useless because one edge of it had already been washed away by the drinks spilled from the tables. Carlon swallowed, closing his eyes to confirm his hunch. Yes, the outer circle of protection was gone, too. Cutting through the threshold, the old knight let the demons out of the room, and they went in search of easier prey.

Lady Jana silently approached the duchess, again saluting with her sword. She smiled tiredly at Carlon, nodded to him. And then she scattered silver dust, instantly melted into the air...

* * *

Maitre cautiously looked out the door. The corridor was empty, with only the corpses of the earl's servants lying in a lurch. On the faces of the seemingly unharmed dead there was a grimace of horror — demons don't inflict physical wounds, they drink the very life of a man. The invisible, insensible "glue" that binds the soul to the body.

There was a muffled cry coming from somewhere behind the wall. It seemed that the creatures that had broken free had taken on the other inhabitants of the castle. Carlon shuddered, kneeling hastily beside Sir Roland's body. The old knight no longer needed help, but the mage still searched his neck for a pulse. When he couldn't find it, he leaned over the threshold. He chuckled when he saw the copper band with the magical insignia carved into the metal. So that's how it was. The protective circle was closed not by the doors of the Hall, but by the threshold. To close the magical barrier with the blown shutters would be easy and convenient, but not reliable. Someone had been very thorough in their preparations for the assassination attempt. Unfortunately for them, Sir Roland was clever — not being a mage, he knew what to do, and with his final blow he sliced through the brass band, breaking the barrier. But Carlon was a fool. He could, after all, have seen the line on the threshold when he entered the hall...

Lady Kaya walked past the wizard. She stopped in the middle of the corridor and glanced to the right and to the left, keeping her sword and her amulet at the ready. The mage turned around. A frowning Maria was examining the wound of the other twin. The duchess, accompanied by Lady Emilia and the mercenaries, was pacing toward him. She was clearly about to speak to Carlon, but at that moment something in the castle courtyard crackled and rattled deafeningly. The mage darted toward one of the windows that cut into the wall of the corridor.

— What is it? — Valria asked, standing beside him.

— The gateway is closed, the bars drawn down. — Mater pressed his lips together tightly. — They are raising the bridge.

— And the sentries? — Dallan inquired. She stood on the other side of the mage. It was impossible for the three of them to see through one narrow window, so the mage stepped aside to make room for the girls.

— The doors are locked, so are the entrances to the gatehouses, — the eagle-eyed elf answered for the mage. — Like a siege.

— So we got out of the trap into the trap,— Emilia wrapped the amulet chain around her palm and clenched fist. While Lady Kaya kept a watchful eye on one end of the corridor, the tiny girl watched the other. But no one was in any hurry to finish what they had begun. Creepy shouts came from all directions, which was unnerving, but suggested that the castle's servants were no longer concerned with guests. — Perhaps all of Sir Cyril's men were involved in the conspiracy. To get out of the castle we would have to break through the inner rooms, the courtyard, break into the towers, seize the lifting mechanism, open the gates, raise the bars, lower the bridge... I don't think we can do that. Even if the Earl has only a few servants capable of fighting, all they have to do is lock themselves in the towers. Master, can you use magic to break down the door?

— One or two, if they are not lined with iron. — The mage shook his head. — We have bigger problems now. The castle is surrounded by a moat of flowing water, and its walls are protected by fortress amulets. It's all designed to keep demons and ghosts from entering. But now...

— It won't let them out of here. — Valria whistled softly. — The demons are trapped in the castle, and so are we... Great. A jar full of flies and spiders.

— We'll get the mistress out of here. — The little brown-eyed lady said it as if she was stating a fact. — If we can't open the gate, we'll find a rope and let Christina down from the wall. The escort should be moving, they'll meet her on the other side and help her across... We need to find an unlocked tower or other way to the crest of the wall. The sooner the better.

— On the other hand, I would suggest we take our time, — Valria protested, turning to the Duchess. Carlon saw the violet lights in her eyes, and snorted:

— Thinking up something idiotic, are you?

— On the contrary, I want to be careful, — the girl pretended to take offense. — Carlon, you said demons are afraid of the sun's rays, right?

— Yes. It burns their etheric bodies.

— The donjon has an open area upstairs. — Without taking her eyes off Christine, the elfess pulled up her parade suede gloves, adorned with black embroidery. — The tower is tall; the sun will light up its peak before anything else. And there must be only one entrance to the platform. The assassins must be waiting for us downstairs and in the courtyard. And the demons are where more people are right now. Also downstairs. No one thinks we're going up.

For a few seconds everyone was silent, digesting what they'd heard. Lady Maria and Adela emerged from the trashed dining hall. Maria had stripped her wounded sister of her shoulder pads, removed the lodged arrow, bandaged her pierced shoulder, and now the redheaded girl acted as if nothing had happened. Except for putting the sword in its scabbard and taking the chain of amulet in her healthy hand.

— We'll go up to the upper ground, fortify ourselves there, and wait until morning, — Lady Emilia finally understood the elf's thoughts. — Maybe we can make some sort of connection with the escort behind the wall. And in the daylight we'll go down to the courtyard and deal only with live enemies. Yes, I agree with that plan.

— We'll have to fortify ourselves against demons, too. — Carlon rubbed the bridge of his nose with force. It looked disrespectful in front of the Duchess of Elvart, but the master decided that the extraordinary circumstances excused him. — Your Highness, may I know what we all saw in the hall? The words you spoke there were not a spell, they were just words. But after them the ghost of Lady Jana appeared, in a very clear manifestation. She looked perfectly alive. And she acted... consciously. There are no ghosts in their senses, it is against their very nature. What was that, Your Highness?

— You saw the little secret of all the ruling houses of old Daert, Master. — The Duchess met the mage's gaze, and Carlon barely averted his eyes. — The traditions of the personal guard are very ancient, and the oath of the guard was written in the days when oaths had real power. In fact, the oath is a magical ritual. The guard mixes his blood with that of his suzerain and swears to serve him until his death. Until the death of his lord, not his own. The death of a Guardian does not release him from his oath.

— So... the souls of dead guardsmen cannot enter the Creator's gardens as long as their lord lives? — Carlon was dumbfounded. And apparently so was Valria — she opened her mouth to say something, but at the last moment she changed her mind.

— Of course they can. — Christina the Second suddenly smiled. — No magic can prevent the Creator from summoning a soul to his throne. The Guardian's oath is simply a... a request for reprieve. Usually this request is granted — if the guardian was a worthy man. Jana herself wants to be with me after she dies. And she has been allowed to do so. Any of her sisters would want the same. Doesn't it?

— Yes, — Lady Emilia replied. She didn't even turn around, continuing to watch her end of the corridor.

— Yes, — the other Guard Girls echoed her.

— Is she here now? — asked the master. — Jana, I mean.

— She'll be here if we need her.

— And she can protect us from the demons?

— No better than you could see. — Stopping smiling, the duchess sighed. — The oath doesn't grant any special powers in the afterlife. It only allows you to keep your identity and memory intact.

— Then we'll have to manage on our own. — Master put his hand on Valria's shoulder. — Captain, do you smell food?

— The smell from the refectory is overpowering. — The elven girl grinned, wiggling her pointy ears. — But if we step back a bit, I'll lead you to the kitchen, wherever it's hiding.

— Your Highness, Captain Valria and I will search for salt to create a barrier on the roof of the donjon, — Carlon told the Duchess. — You and the guardsmen move to the wing passageway in the tower. I'm sure it's locked, but wait for us there anyway. If anything forces you to leave, leave some sign.

— Very well, Master, — Christina nodded.

— And here's the other thing. I could use one of those amulets. I have demon countermeasures, but they're... one-time use, so to speak.

— Take mine. — The Lady Maria took a step toward Carlon and placed a silver chain in his palm. She squeezed his fingers lightly with hers before letting go of his hand. Girl smiled only with her eyes. The mage felt the urge to call the girl with him, but he held back. Instead he asked:

— And you yourself...?

— My sisters will not let me offend, — Maria answered seriously, without a smile.

The mage picked up Sir Roland's axe and weighed it in his hand. It was a bit heavy, and the blade had chipped while the knight was chopping at doors, but it was better than a sword. Carlon wasn't much of a swordsman, but he'd always wielded an axe in combat. Valria, too, examined the crossbows scattered across the floor, kicked one with her boot and grimaced. The crossbows were all wall-mounted or siege weapons — not something you could carry for long, especially if you were a delicate, graceful Elf. Fixing the sword's armband, the girl said to her sergeant:

— Dallan, keep an eye on them.

She waved a hand at Carlon to indicate she was ready to go.

The two of them jogged down the corridor, not changing to running. The old castle was not a hospitable place, and now it had become a trap, dangerous even for its owner. The mage glanced behind him with eyes closed, and through his drooping eyelids, he saw the greenish glimmer behind the keep's walls grow brighter. The defenses of the Earl's private quarters had been put on alert, but it didn't look particularly impressive. Carlon couldn't even vouch for the fact that the inner fail-safes were sufficiently strong to withstand the dawn.

— I hope that formal execution freed Dallan from her foolish oath, — Valria, striding first, said unexpectedly aloud. — I shudder to think of her going back to serving that bony moose after her death.

— Only if Dallan wants her to,— the Master reminded her, ignoring her majesty's insult. It wasn't the best moment to speak, but he could see that his golden-haired companion was trembling with anger — apparently she'd been trying very hard to contain herself for the past few minutes.

— And she will, — the elf-woman snarled, twirling her sword. They'd reached the end of the gallery and turned left into the annexe wing. There were no more windows, all the light coming from the old-fashioned torches crackling in the wall brackets. — For years I've taught her to value herself, to think of herself, but she's... too much of a fairy knight.

Mater gave an indefinite chuckle. Valria, on the other hand, stopped abruptly, threw her head back, pulled her nose. She said:

— Blood, grease, oil... Not fresh... Right below us. Looking for stairs.

A side corridor led them to the stairs, where the bodies of two servants lay. No wounds on the dead men — meaning the demons had done their work. Carlon lowered the chain from his palm so that the silver weight dangled from his wrist. Only when he touched the amulet with his bare palm could he feel the movement of magical energy in it — so little was there. But Maria was right; something stronger would not have survived the steel of the guardsmen's armor.

— Wait. — When they made it up the two flights of stairs and onto the square landing on the second floor, Valria raised her hand in warning. She wiggled her long ears like a horse. — I hear footsteps...

— Mrrr-rya! — A black cat with a long woolly tail leaped out of the dark stone archway that led to the gallery. He slipped under the elfin's feet and galloped up the stairs. After the cat, a man appeared in the archway. A stout man in the simple clothes of a castle servant clumsily crossed the threshold, staggered. With difficulty maintaining his balance, he stared at Carlon and Valria with an empty, meaningless stare. He opened his mouth and let out something between a croak and a hiss. Valria shifted to cover the mage, raised her sword — but the maestro grabbed her by the shoulder:

— Possessed! His...

The man snapped from his seat so suddenly that Carlon, who had been expecting such a thing, barely had time to push the girl out of his way and recoil himself. Like a cannonball, the possessed man whizzed between the mage and the elf, striking the stone railing of the stairs, leaping off them and leaping toward Valria, his clumsiness vanishing without a trace. The Captain, however, was not slow either. With a swift stroke, she severed three fingers from the possessed man's outstretched hand, letting her foe pass her by.

— He feels no pain! — The master cautioned, gripping the shaft of the axe with both palms of his hands. Valria heard him. When the possessed man turned and lunged at the elfess again, she met him with a direct thrust. The sword blade halfway entered the man between the ribs, piercing his heart. The possessed man jerked forward, sliding onto the elfess's sword, continuing to pull his arms toward the girl. The man's fingers touched the captain's cheek... when Carlon, who came up behind him, sliced him with his axe heartily. The first blow failed to sever the man's neck, so the wizard yanked the point from his foe's flesh and struck again. The decapitated body tumbled sideways, tearing the hilt of the sword from Valria's hands. Master looked back at the opening, but no new guests awaited. The elven woman, on the other hand, pulled a blue and white handkerchief from her vest pocket and wiped a few drops of blood from her cheek. With a little gasp she inquired:

— Will there be more of these?

— Where there's one, there's ten, — the mage said sullenly. — The weakest demons are unable to create ethereal bodies, so they take possession of humans or animals whenever possible. It's a rare occurrence, since they want the bodies intact, but... left by the soul. This is why the little ones usually ride the tails of the stronger ones. That's exactly what they produce.

A gray smoke began to rise over the headless body. Mater unwrapped the chain of his guardsman's amulet and dispersed the cloud like ordinary tobacco smoke. He stated:

— This one won't come back. But I can't vouch for how many more there are.

— Couldn't you have called it in ahead of time? — Kneeling down, Valria freed the blade of her sword from the possessed man's corpse. — If such a one were to show up at the duchess and the others while we're gone?

— Usually the weak demons only crawl out of natural gaps, and when they're summoned, the demonologists try to cut them off so they don't get in the way," Carlson explained. — I just wasn't thinking... you're right, we should get back and tell the others as fast as we can.

They did not encounter any new threats in the second floor gallery and risked walking faster.

— How survivable are these things? — The elf-woman asked.

— No more than humans. Demons simply resuscitate the body, as if to substitute the soul. But they don't care about pain or injury. As long as the body can function, they will use it. And if you don't nail a demon on its way out of a corpse, it will find another one.

— Here! — The girl stopped in front of an inconspicuous boardwalk door. — It smells like food. And... there's someone in there. Ringing something, walking around...

Without waiting for the Master's reaction, the captain kicked the flap open and dived in. All Carlon had to do was to follow her. Beyond the door was the castle kitchen — a long, rectangular room, lined with tables and cabinets, with three large fireplaces along the outer wall. Two women and a boy cook were lying dead in puddles of blood between the tables. And in the open kitchen cupboard a man was rummaging intently, the last person the master would have wished to see here and now. Peter, the assassin from the other world, turned around at the sound of the broken door and raised his eyebrows in surprise... But he had no time to do or say anything. Carlon threw back his axe, snatched from his pocket a thin silver disc, marked with magical signs, broke it, waved the resulting halves, shouting out a full voice activation formula. The cabinet the alien had been digging into snapped out of place and crashed into Peter himself, miraculously not knocking him to the ground. The killer managed to bounce back without letting himself be crushed by the falling cabinet — but two heavy tables flew into the air. One slammed into the alien's left shoulder, and the other would have taken his head off if Peter hadn't collapsed on the floor and rolled over. Unfortunately, that was the end of the amulet's charge, and Karlon shoved the now useless halves of the disk into his pocket — silver can always be melted down.

With an elbow thrust, the assassin rose to his feet, drew a long straight dagger from its sheath on his belt — not his miracle knife with a firing hilt, but an ordinary imperially forged blade. He threw the weapon from hand to hand and grinned viciously. But Valria stepped toward him. The elfess immediately went on the attack, unleashing a hail of swift lunges on her opponent. The long, heavy sword in the girl's hands flashed with incredible speed. Peter, who had seemed invincible in close combat, staggered backward, barely managing to parry the blows with his dagger. The alien's attempts to counterattack were pathetic — he too was agile and quick, but the Captain skillfully exploited her advantage in blade length. She neither allowed her opponent to approach her, nor rushed to the side to attack her. Twice the tip of the sword touched the assassin's chest, leaving slashes in his gray shirt, the fabric around which immediately darkened. Clearly sensing that he was about to be cornered, Peter leaped to break the distance, intercepted the dagger by the blade, and swung for the throw. Valria instantly switched to a defensive stance, but her opponent threw his weapon not at her, but over the girl's shoulder at Carlon. The elfess still intercepted the dagger in the air with the blade of her sword, knocking it back into the wall. Taking advantage of a second's respite, the alien slipped his hand into his pants pocket. It was Carlon's turn to leap forward and shield Valria. The wizard struck his hands, letting the silver rings on his fingers touch, and then spread his arms apart, stretching the translucent membrane of the magical shield before him. The black object that appeared in Peter's hand spit fire, a shot rang out... and the bullet rang through the saucepan on the floor. Not because it ricocheted off the master's shield — the assassin had shot himself sideways. He smirked again, and said, stifling his breath:

— This thing... is called a "pistol." It's called a "Glock 18," actually. It can fire many, many times before it needs to be reloaded.

— Wonderful thing, — Valria agreed. The girl now stood behind the wizard, with her free hand on his back. She tapped her middle finger lightly, letting him know that she was ready to switch places with the Master at any moment.

— Anyway, don't move, okay? — The killer clicked something on his gun. — When I said I'd see you again, little elf, I didn't think you'd find me. But still, it's good to see you. Got your name, by the way. My employers helped me out.

— I'm flattered, — the girl replied. Carlon stood there, thinking intensely. The situation was stalemated. Peter could not open fire on them, but the master did not want to get close to the alien. Especially when he had both hands full, and his partner couldn't look out from behind the mage without risk. — Have you ever seen one of these things, with lots of arms and tentacles?

— I have, — the assassin hummed. Master had no doubt that he, too, was trying to find a way out at the moment. — They don't touch me for some reason. Probably because I'm not from around here. By the way, they're the reason I came here — somebody asked me to go get salt.

They were silent for half a minute. Then the alien grinned more widely than before:

— Elfie, do you want an idea? Come with me. I have a job to do — cover a man, and if he fails, I'll finish the job with your Duchess myself. Not a word about you. Back home, they think if you go to a parallel world, you get superpowers and a pretty girl to go with you. But I got some half-wit old man. Come with me and I'll help you get your friends out of here. I'd take those armored beauties out too, but they won't leave without their mistress, as I understand it. Pity, of course.

— I will consider your suggestion, thank you. — Valria stopped tapping her finger against the mage's back, and the man grew tense. It looked as if the elfess was ready to rush into attack without warning her partner.

— Think. — The alien stepped back without taking his eyes off the mage or the elf-woman. — We'll decide when we meet again. If you do not agree, I'll kill you. I do not want to do this, but — it's work. The reward is too good.

With his shoulder blades against the second door, the one reserved for the servants, which led into the back of the building, Peter fumbled for the handle, opened the flap, and disappeared behind it. Carlon mentally counted to ten, then nodded:

— Let's go.

The mercenaries ran to the door. The girl swung it open, stepped aside, letting the first mage through, who still held the flickering rectangle of protective field in front of him. The doorway beyond the threshold was empty. The intruder was gone.

— The bastard's skill at escaping is astounding. — Valria commented grimly as the master curled the field with a sigh of relief and shook his withered fingers. — He must have special schools of combat escape at home.

— I hope he's wandering through some secret passageway in the walls and doesn't run into our friends, — Carlon said. — They'd have to wait by the doorway to the keep, and that would be where he'd come from. I'd wager his fellows are in the Earl's chambers.

He and Velria hastily searched the ruined kitchen and soon had five small sacks of salt. They made their way back the same way they'd come. They could not avoid trouble, however. Halfway up the stairs, an odd-looking creature, a square pebble with a dozen arms, some of which served as legs, crawled with some difficulty out of the gallery wall in front of Carlon. After that, another creature crawled out of the gray stones, looking more like a human — at least in number of limbs. The demons crackled, rustled, and whirred as they spotted the man and the elf, and launched themselves at them. The mage dropped his axe, drew a leather pouch from his belt, shook a handful of paper wrappers out of the pouch, blew on them, and threw them at the fiercest creature, the one that looked like a stone with arms. The wrappers flashed with blue fire as they touched the beast's skin. In a second the flames engulfed the entire demon and consumed it almost instantly, to the accompaniment of the dying creature's choking howl. The second monster froze, as if stunned by its comrade's death, and Carlon went for it, unwrapping the amulet chain. It was pure bluff, an attempt to scare him. And it, alas, did not work. With an angry snap, the demon moved toward the wizard.

A silver-burning, translucent blade struck the creature in the chest, leaving a glowing white wound that caused it to stagger backward. Lady Jana emerged between the master and the monster without any glaring effects, flashes, or sounds. She was nowhere to be seen, and there she was, blocking the demon's path. The girl, who had been created out of thin air, sprang forward with her whole body, ducked under the monster's outstretched paws, stabbed it in the chest again, this time driving the blade to the hilt, yanking the sword up. The demon lowered its long paws, sinking its huge, curved claws into Yana's back. Where the claws pierced the ghost's blue cloak and silver cuirass, the white flames flickered, but Jana reacted in no way. She lashed the sword upward once more and simply hacked the demon's torso apart. Then she lashed out from left to right, blowing its head off. The otherworldly predator crumbled into ashes. The black flakes also vanished before they touched the gallery floor-but the scratched slabs left a charcoal-colored stain, like soot. Lady Jana walked past the stain, sheathing her sword, glancing over her shoulder at the stunned mercenaries. And disappeared as she had appeared — just melted into thin air. There wasn't even a cloud of silver dust this time.

— Um... Thank you, lady, — Valria exhaled belatedly. Carlon had no doubt that Jana had heard her, though.

* * *

The screams died down. Apparently, all the inhabitants of the castle, who hadn't gone to feed on demons at once, had hidden themselves away and were as quiet as a mouse. But in the distance horns were faintly blaring and drums were beating. Christina's escort was laying siege to the castle, and the cavalrymen had no way to storm the high, black walls.

The first thing that caught Carlon's eye when he returned to the third floor was that the corpses of the servants, devoured on the doorstep of the refectory, were gone. So were half their crossbows. What was missing, however, was quickly discovered at the far end of the gallery. A makeshift barricade of chairs and an overturned table blocked the passage. On one side of the flimsy "fortification" lay a pile of cut-up corpses, and on the other was a pair of guardsmen standing guard. Lady Kaya was clutching a loaded crossbow, and two other trophies were leaning against the table, ready to be fired. Lady Maria was armed with a single sword, and it had been shortened by half a finger — the tip had disappeared. Seeing the girl unharmed, the mage perked up, waving to the guards with a silly smile from afar. Valria shooed him away and asked seriously as she approached the barricade:

— Was there any trouble?

— Yes, — Maria nodded to the elfess. She turned her gaze to the Master, and he thought he saw a flicker of relief in her bright blue eyes. Maybe he just saw what he wanted to see, though. — The dead rose up and attacked us from behind. No one died, only I broke my blade against the wall. The sisters thought there was a necromancer, but they were wrong. I've read in books about demonic possession, more like it.

— That's right, lady. — Carlon stepped over the legs of one of the dead men, pushed back a chair that was in the way of getting behind the barricade. Valria simply skipped across the table, barely touching it with the palm of her hand. — I should have warned you ahead of time... Now if you come across an undamaged corpse, stab it through the heart or slit its throat.

— I'll remember that. Did you make it?

— We got the salt. — The magician patted one of the pouches in his bulging pocket. — But the bad news is... Where is Her Highness?

— Around the corner, — Lady Kaya, who had been silent until now, answered in place of Maria. Mater heard her voice for the first time, low and velvety.

— Then we go to her. And here, I return. — Carlon held out her amulet to Maria. She accepted the silver chain with a slight smile. Girl asked:

— Was it useful?

— Yes, lady. Very useful.

The rest of the group waited for them at a dead end, in front of a closed door leading into the donjon. Dallan stood as a column of silver and blue in front of the door, glaring frowning at the padded ironwork of the dark boards. Pale as a sheet, Lady Adela leaned against the wall beside the torch, eyes closed. The band on her shoulder had turned from white to black and red, and her face was streaming with sweat. Little Lady Emilia was talking to her mistress in a half-whisper about something. She greeted the returning mercenaries with the guardsman's signature nod.

— We have problems. — Immediately told the duchess Valria. — That is, more problems, new ones. In addition to those that have already been.

She recounted her encounter with Peter in the castle kitchen, and the demons that hunted only one floor below. Then she added:

— Lady Jana helped us out there, but she left at once. I don't know where.

— I think she's distracting the demons from the upper floors. — Kristina shifted her eyebrows. — Too bad ghosts don't talk.

— Well, she understands us, and that's what counts. — Carlon scratched his beard. He chuckled when he found a fingernail sized piece of pie between his fingers. — Things got even more complicated. This Peter saw that we came for the salt, and now he knows that we do not plan to escape the castle, but to defend ourselves somewhere. He might come up with something nasty. And if he's paired with a mage, together their possibilities for sordidness are almost limitless.

— Our plans change? — Duchess specified.

— Not really. Judging by the location of magical protection, Count's chambers are one floor above. If we go in here, — Master nodded at the door guarded by the sergeant, — we will be below them. The donjon, though rebuilt, is still a donjon. Every floor in it is a fortress, so the enemies in the Count's rooms can lock us down. I'd suggest going higher and breaking straight up to the private floor anyway, but now I'd also suggest killing the wizard if we meet him there. I'm pretty sure the demonologist, the Count, and other assassination leaders, are sitting there, if there are any. But they may not have any guards with them. All those who have been waiting for us in ambushes around the castle are already dead. If we go through the private chambers, we'll solve some of our problems. Although if Peter and his gun are there, the risk will increase considerably.

— Well... — Valria stretched, pulling her hat down over her left ear to scratch behind her right one. — I don't see any better option. Your Highness?

— I agree with the master, — Christina nodded. — Emilia, gather everyone. Prepare for the assault.

On the way upstairs, the small squad encountered no enemies — no living, no ghosts, no possessed. The fourth floor was uninhabitable, with crumbling cupboards and chests that held all sorts of belongings, from moth-eaten clothes to bronze candlesticks. Closets and chests piled on top of each other occupied every room, even part of the main corridor. What was missing from the floor was a door to the keep. It had been cut through during the construction of the wing, but the doorway was now covered with white bricks. The gallery was a dead end.

— The Earl is quite paranoid,— Valria remarked as she went to the wall and touched the bricks with her fingers. The brown suede of her glove had gray smudges of dust on it, and the elfess wiped them squeamishly on her pants.

— Is there anything you can do about it, master? — asked the duchess.

— I think so. — Carlon, too, put his palm on the cool brickwork and lowered his eyelids. — There is no iron behind the brick. The inner defense only works against intangible threats; it doesn't prevent an explosion. But, of course, the wall is stronger than the door. And also... When the door was here, it closed the circle of inner protection. The node of the circle is still inside the doorway. If I destroy the wall, the circle is irreversibly broken. As it were... the door would remain open, in terms of the system.

— And the Count's chambers would open to the demons? — Christine rubbed her chin. Her face became exactly like her father's.

— Yes, Your Highness.

— Hmm. That's not bad at all. Give me a second. — The ruler of Elvart whispered something, and Carlon shuddered to find Lady Jana standing beside him. The mage moved aside — the ghost's touch could drink away the rest of his strength and cause illness in the future. That the ghost had no wish to harm was irrelevant. — You take care of the wall while I explain something to Jana.

While the duchess instructed her ghostly protector, the master took two identical amulets from his belted purse. " Fire Discs" — an intricate weave of fine gold wire and a red transparent stone in the center. It was exactly the same one Carlon had used in the basement of the dead fortress — perhaps a hundred years ago. Back then, the explosion of the amulet had diverted the attention of his enemies, giving the mage's companions a chance to attack. Now it was time to use the "Disks" for what they were intended. The wall of the donjon would not be breached by the amulets, of course. But they could beat masonry, even double masonry.

Whistling a soldier's song under his breath, Karlon chewed some tar and used it to glue the "Fire Discs" to the brick, one at the bottom of the former opening and one at the top. With a piece of charcoal, he began to draw an elongated oval encompassing both amulets. Out loud, he remarked, unhappily:

— I'm running out of tricks.

— I'm amazed at how much stuff you carry in your pockets anyway, — said Valria, eyeing him with a smirk. — If you'd had your belt on you, we'd probably have gone out the front door.

— Done. — He set the charcoal down, and stepped back, peering closely at the pattern that held the amulets together. — As soon as I cast the spell, the door will reappear. The force of the blast would go one way, and the debris would go the same way, so all we had to do was step back. But... I figure... I'd have to use most of my energy for the blast. I'll save some for the salt barrier, that's all. No magic for the next 24 hours, and just standing up will be hard.

— Don't worry. — Valria gently took the mage by the elbow. — I'll carry you.

— You? Me?

— Well, at least I won't leave you alone. If I can't lift you, I'll lie down beside you.

— Master Carlon has proven himself many times today, — Duchess Christina said in an unexpectedly formal tone. — Our survival depends on his knowledge and skills. Therefore... Maria.

— Yes, Madam.

— From now on, I entrust the master to your care. My salvation depends on his life, so consider that by protecting him, you are protecting me. Stay by his side, protect him, and if necessary, die for him. Those are my orders.

— Yes, ma'am. — The blue-eyed girl put hand to her heart and bowed her head.

— Aha... — Valria squinted her eyes and put her ears perked up. — So this is how Guardswomen get married. Well, Carlon, congratulations.

Contrary to usual, the mage made no attempt to grab the elfess by the ear or give her a slap. He merely looked up at Valria, full of longing and fatigue. The Captain, unaccustomed to such behavior, was momentarily taken aback and averted her eyes. Master sighed:

— Everyone please step back five meters, at least.

The guardsmen pressed against the dusty walls of the gallery, drawing their swords. Only Kaye aimed her trophy crossbow at the archway. The duchess remained in the rear, guarded by Dallan, while Valria stood in the middle of the corridor, beside the wizard. She put her hand on his shoulder, gave him a gentle squeeze. Carlon grinned crookedly. Slowly, so as not to make a mistake, he read the words of power. He snapped his fingers.

The solid brick wall, stiffened with excellent cement, was blown into the keep, as if by a gust of wind of unimaginable power. The blast was surprisingly weak, and the mage didn't even blink. Years of accumulated dust blasted across the floor, wrapping a gray veil around the corridor.

— Forward! — Lady Emilia shouted, darting first into the opening. The named sisters followed her. Karlon staggered, his knees trembling, but Valria put her shoulder to the master's shoulders and kept him from falling. They held each other and dove into the cloud of dust that engulfed the guardsmen.

The bowstring of a crossbow slammed, blades clinked. By the time the mage and the elfess, coughing, burst into the corridor of the keep, which was no longer a dead end, there lay the first corpse. A tall man in a black brigantine without a coat of arms and a leather helmet stretched out on the rubble of a brick, having received an arrow in the forehead. A second enemy in the same outfit, Lady Emilia and Kaya pushed away from the archway. The warrior in the brigantine fought back skillfully, but got too caught up in swordsmanship with two opponents and missed the third. Taking advantage of her considerable height, the Lady Maria struck over Emilia's shoulder with a deep lunge to get her opponent under his arm. Kaya immediately finished off the wounded man with a slash to the throat. The warrior's body was still on the ground, and the girls were already hurrying on.

A narrow corridor led to a huge round room with a high ceiling. Judging by the rich furnishings, the room served Count Cyril both living room and office. A stone staircase along the western wall led to other floors of the tower. The earl himself was drinking wine at a low table, in the company of a gray-bearded old man of rather good looks — an explosion made them both jump up. The castle master let out a sound like a cat's strangled mewing when he saw the guards burst into his chambers and limped to the other side of the room, to the protection of two more soldiers in black brigantines. His drinking companion was quicker, sneaking behind the backs of the blacks first. Emilia and Kaya rushed to them, but then the doors in the walls of the study-room opened, and from the adjoining rooms poured out another half dozen equally armed soldiers. They bore little resemblance to servants picking up swords for the first time. The girls chose to retreat, standing shoulder to shoulder with their sisters, covering Carlon and the Duchess who had emerged from the corridor. "The Black Brignatines" lined up opposite, and the circular room was divided in half by a double line. On one side was a thin line of guardsmen in silver armor, on the other a string of warriors in black brigantines. The "black" line was twice as long as the blue-silver one.

— I didn't expect anyone to be here,— said Count Cyril hoarsely from behind his defenders. His voice trembled a little, but more from age than from fright. — Christine, girl, why did you leave dinner early? Bored without my company, eh?

— Oh, of course not, — replied the ruler of Elvart in tone with the Count. She stood directly behind her bodyguards, along with Sergeant Dallan. — You have labored, dear cousin, to keep me in interesting company since your departure.

— Yes, but I see you weren't happy with it. Perhaps...

— Enough with the ceremonies, — a new, familiar voice interrupted the count. Peter stepped down from the upper floor, playing with his pistol. He was followed by two more warriors in brigantines. — Count, you had a chance to chat with a relative earlier. Do your business. We have all the trumps. Actually, I'm sorry about the ammunition, these last ones, but if you can't handle it, so be it...

He pointed the gun at the duchess, but she was overshadowed by Lady Maria — as the tallest of the guardsmen. The place of the girl in the line immediately took Dallan.

— Are you sure you're the only one with trumps? — Christina the Second was nonchalantly curious.

— Even if you're not bluffing, — the alien began. But this time he was not allowed to finish. The Earl made a grunt as he pointed behind Peter.

Lady Jana ran up the stairs and through the closed trapdoor. In the bright light of the chandelier, she seemed almost translucent — or perhaps the manifestation had weakened from her many wounds. White shimmering notches left by the demons' touches covered the ghost's arms, chest, and back, one faintly glowing across her cheek. As she stepped onto the landing, Jana jumped sideways. The mage didn't immediately understand why — but a moment later he saw the demon's head through the hatch boards. It looked like a skinny, wingless dragon and crawled out into the light, glancing up at the charging humans with scarlet eyes. After the first demon, more came pouring down from the lower floors.

The Count's quarters were in chaos in the blink of an eye. "The Black Brigantines" screamed in terror, trying to cut demons with their swords or run from them, ghostly predators chasing people around the room. Peter, who had not been touched by the demons, shouted commands, waved his pistol — no one listened to him. The guardsmen surrounded their mistress and led to the exit, shielding their bodies from possible gunfire, waving away the creatures with amulets and panicked soldiers with their blades. All but the Lady Maria, who rushed to Carlon, took him by the arm and practically dragged the heavy warlock along with Valria. Jana's ghost rushed between the two groups, clearing the way for them. As they neared the landing in front of the stairs, Carlon noticed the Count's gray-bearded guest gesticulating furiously, muttering something to himself. The effect of his actions was evident as the demons who had been closing in on the two old men suddenly spun around and left them alone and sped off after the guardsmen.

— The gray-haired man is a mage! — With all his strength, Carlon shouted, pointing a finger at the demonologist. — The summoner!

He was heard. Sergeant Dallan separated herself from the group, deftly weaving between the enemies, ran up to the old man who was busy witchcrafting, cracking his skull open with one sword blow. She hurried backward, but two of the demons loomed up in front of her, cutting her off from her comrades.

— Dallan! — Valria lunged at her friend, nearly toppling the wizard, but quickly came to her senses. She groaned through clenched teeth.

Lady Jana, who had just been fighting at the other end of the hall, spun out of thin air in front of her sergeant, jabbed one demon in the paw and blocked the blow of the second with her glowing blade. She waved her hand, indicating to the green-eyed girl that she should run to her comrades. Dallan responded with a nod and sprinted from her place. A few seconds later she was next to Valria and Carlon. But the ghost of the guardsman was surrounded on all sides by demons. Perhaps Jana could have disappeared again and reappeared elsewhere, but she chose to remain in the thick of the creatures, gathering them on herself, distracting them from her comrades. The ghost's faded sword flashed more and more frequently, the guardswoman spun on her heels, chopping at the paws and tentacles reaching for her. Already standing on the stone steps, Carlon drew a bag of salt from his pocket with trembling fingers, untied the string with his teeth, and sprinkled the salt across the stairs. He roughly drew a line with the toe of his boot and charged it with a bit of energy to create a weak barrier for a few minutes. He cast one last glance at the room he'd left behind. Peter was gone. The bodies of the "Black Brigantines" were lying around like rag dolls, and the fatted creatures were wandering or floating in the air. Lady Jana had disappeared beneath the demons piling over her, and all that was visible from beneath their gray carcasses was a faint twitching leg in a brown guardsman's boot. The leg convulsed before the mage's eyes, twitching for the last time and scattering the familiar silver dust.

Climbing up the aisle following Christina, the maestro heard Count Cyril's shrill shriek. It was a small consolation to him...

* * *

The top of the main tower of the castle was exactly what Carlon had hoped for. It was a completely empty circular open-air platform, surrounded by massive square battlements of black stone. The last to get out were a panting mage and the Lady Maria, who had covered the rear. Seeing that no one was lagging behind, the guardian attempted to slam the thick iron hatch shut, but she couldn't do it, the hinges were rusted. Dallan and Kaya came to her aid. Just the three of them lowered the lid, and pushed down the two metal bolts.

— We can't relax yet! — Valria warned. — Carlon, salt.

The wizard handed her two sacks and, with the rest, went to the battlements and began pouring salt right under them. It was safer this way, there was less chance that the protective circle would be broken by wind or any other accident. It went quickly, and a couple of minutes later the salt circle covered the whole area. Karlon touched the white particles with the tips of his fingers, whispered a spell, poured as much energy into the barrier as he could squeeze out of himself without risking his life. He exhaled in relief and wiped the sweat from his face. He collapsed, unconscious before his cheek touched the bird-dirted floor of the scratched stone slabs.

...Carlon was awakened by the sound of a knock. He groaned, got up on his elbows, and looked around. Master found that he was lying on the edge of the platform, covered by Valria's cloak and with the elfess' hat tucked under his head. Valria herself was sitting nearby, with her shoulder against Dallan's. She seemed to be dozing. At some distance from the mercenaries, Her Highness the Duchess of Elvart was seated in comfort. The guardsmen covered the cold slabs with their cloaks especially for her, with another cloak Christina covered her feet. The weary Lady Adela slept beside her, resting her head in her mistress's lap, and the Duchess stroked her bodyguard's dark red hair. Emilia and Maria stood guard behind them, Kaya strode along the battlements, keeping watch. The sky was already brightening, the stars were going out. And a knocking sound came from a locked hatch.

Seeing that the mage was awake, the Lady Maria left her guard and approached him. Smiling with one eye, she leaned over and gave him a hand. Carlon accepted her help gratefully, unsure if he could rise on his own. Standing up, he asked in a low voice:

— Who is that coming to us?

— I know no more than you do, Master, — the guardswoman replied. — I can only guess. There are a lot of bodies down there.

— Possessed. — Carlon grimaced. — Even if they kicked the hatch down, they couldn't get up here. The body would get through the barrier, but they'd shake the demon out of it.

Supported by Maria under the elbow, he waddled toward the duchess. She greeted him with a weary smile:

— Well, Master, Captain Velria's plan seems to have worked. It's dawn. Soon we can try to clear the stairs and descend into the courtyard.

— Lady Yana... stayed there, — the wizard said guiltily. Carlon could not say that he had abandoned his companion to her death, but the feeling was just that.

— Yes, I already know. — Christina shook her head. — Don't beat yourself up. A man cannot die twice, and the soul is at the mercy of the Creator alone. Jana will return, sooner or later. If she doesn't consider her duty to me done, of course. She's just lost her... visible form. It's only temporary.

— Yes, I know. — The Duchess gestured for the wizard to sit down, and he sank heavily onto the edge of his cloak. Maria stood beside him as if she were his bodyguard, not Christina's. — Your Highness, have you ever wondered why Sir Kyril has made such an attempt on your life, and in cahoots with someone else?

— The first thing that comes to mind is the title. — Christina of Elvart darkened, stopped smiling. — I told you that the Earl has no kin closer to me, but that is true in reverse as well. With my death, the Duke's crown would go to Sir Cyril. Truly, I have no idea how he thought to survive and justify himself after the assassination attempt. Maybe he didn't, but wanted to get something out of it. The cousin is very old, and for years he seems to have built up a hatred for me. Or maybe the Coalition promised him something. Things are happening in the world that even I do not yet understand. The mechanisms around which nations revolve have been set in motion, Master. We can only see the gears turning, but the machine is already in motion. Rest now, for we're about to have our final battle.

Carlon returned to his old position on his own, without Maria's help. Sitting down beside the mercenaries, he picked up Valria's hat and slipped it over the elf's head. She opened one eye. Girl yawned, put her hand behind her back, and took out a cloth pouch. From the sack she took out two small crumbs, handed one to Dallan, and hid the other in her vest pocket. The sack handed the mage:

— Here, share it with our iron girls. Her Highness can also offer, if there is any left.

— Where did you get...

— We were in the kitchen, — the elfess shrugged. — I couldn't have left with only salt, could I?

She raised her hand to adjust her hat, which was askew, and then she froze. Girl frowned:

— Who's knocking from downstairs I can guess. But... I hear something else. A creaking sound... as if from outside.

— What do you mean, from outside? — The mage didn't get it.

— Demons can climb walls? — The elf-woman sprang stiffly to her feet, and Dallan rose after her.

— They can walk on any surface, even a steep one. Or float close to it, — Master nodded. — But they don't make much noise. And it's light out. And a possessed person wouldn't have the dexterity to climb rocks.

— Metal on stone... — the captain's head whirled, trying to decide where the faint sound was coming from, which only she could hear. — If it isn't demons, then... All from the edge of the roof!

Valria's warning was a little overdue. Carlon saw a metal cylinder fly over the cogs, spinning.

— Close your eyes and ears! — The mage shouted before the cylinder exploded. And he was the first to set an example. The flash and thunder were the same as in the throne room, on the day of the Duke's murder — but noticeably weaker. Maybe it was the wide open space around him, or maybe it was just that this cylinder was different from the day before. This time the Maestro did not lose consciousness, only collapsed to his knees. He exhaled sharply, took hands off his ears, shook his head, and opened eyes.

Peter, an assassin from another world, jumped down from the fortress cairn, unhooked a metal snaphook with a rope fastened to it from his belt. He drew pistol from behind his belt, aimed it, and pressed something. Through the rumble in his blocked ears, Carlon heard a crackling sound-the sounds of separate shots merging into long one. "Tr-r-r-ringk! Tr-r-rringk! Tr-r-rringk!" Behind the master shrieked the Duchess of Elvart, metal hit metal, the steel of the Guards armor torn by bullets rang out... The mage did not wait any longer. All his magical training was of no use at the moment, the techniques of hand-to-hand combat taught by Lady Emilia had been knocked out of his mind, so Carlon lunged at the assassin without any frills, growling through his teeth. Peter had just lowered the pistol, which had stopped spitting fire, and reached for the scabbard on his belt. The alien met the mage's attack with a mocking smirk. Carlon didn't even manage to crash into him with his whole body as he'd hoped — the assassin stepped sideways, caught the mage by the shoulder, twisted his arm. Kicked him in the stomach, hooked him, knocked to the ground. Finally he pulled his dagger out of its sheath and swung it at his defeated foe... The sword, thrown by a strong hand, struck Peter in the wrist with its crossguard, knocking the weapon from his fingers. Both blades clattered against the stone rampart and disappeared from sight.

— Whoa! — the alien exclaimed respectfully, turning to face the new threat. Sergeant Dallan, staggering and stumbling, walked toward him with clenched fists raised to face level. The sun had just come over the horizon, illuminating the top of the donjon, and the first rays played on the girl's polished armor. — I remember you, too. Come for more?

The sergeant tucked a strand of golden hair behind her ear with an uncertain gesture, and... laughed guttural. It was the first time Carlon had heard her laugh in six years, and he regretted it — it sounded like Dallan simply didn't know how people laughed. It was rather creepy.

The alien attacked first. The girl blocked a series of blows to the face, knocked the gun he used instead of a baton out of his hands, holding the barrel. She defied a deceptive move and kicked the killer in the shin with an armored boot, forcing him to rebound. She tried to counterattack, but alas — concussion from the explosion. The sergeant hesitated a little longer than she should have, and Peter caught her right arm in his grasp. He gripped it so tightly that even Carlon could hear the crunch of bones and tossed Dallan to the floor. Angrily, he kicked her in the lower abdomen, under the rim of her cuirass. For some reason, it was this blow that caused the mage to erupt in uncontrollable rage. He got up on all fours and clenched his fists to the point of pain. Before Carlon could do anything, however, a shadow covered the tower.

The assassin and the warlock both raised their heads in unison to see the dragon in its red-and-gold imperial harness dive toward the floor. The dragon's maw, full of saber-like fangs, was open wide, clawed paws outstretched forward, its enormous wings obscuring the barely dawning sun. Peter's jaw dropped. To give the killer credit, he recovered in a second and tried to jump away, but Carlon lunged forward, hooking onto his left leg and holding him in place. The alien tried to strike the wizard in the face with his right hand, but couldn't. Dallan grabbed his other ankle with her healthy arm. A hot wind blew across the platform. Master clutched tightly, continuing to clutch the assassin's leg with both hands. Something huge whizzed a meter above his head, a hideous wet crunch sounded, and a splash of hotness splattered on Carlon's back. When the mage stopped squinting, he found himself holding exactly half of Peter. The killer's body above the waist belt was gone. The remainder stood for a moment, as if contemplating what to do next, and finally fell. The mage met his gaze with Dallan, lying on her stomach, her face red with blood, her almost frantic emerald-green eyes burning with feverish fire. Swallowing, Master looked up. Three battle dragons were circling in the fading sky above the tower of the old castle. The tail of one held the long pennant of the squadron commander.

— Uh... Dallan? — Carlon called cautiously, glancing at the girl again. The crazy fire in her eyes faded, but not completely. — Are you all right?

— Yeah... I'm... fine. — The sergeant sat up uneasily. — What about Valria? What about Cristina? They both fell and I... I don't remember any further... What about them?

Carlon stood up, holding his stomach, catching his breath. He kicked the half-peter with his heel, a pool of blood spreading rapidly around him. He looked around. Valria, who had been knocked out again by the explosion, was already showing signs of life — lying on her back, groping her face for some reason. Reassured that the elf-woman was all right, the mage moved past her. Farther. To where things were far worse. The alien from a world without magic had used up the last bullets of his miracle weapon on the Duchess of Elvart. But beside the Duchess were her guardsmen. Even stunned and blinded, they did their duty. As best they could, they simply covered Christina with themselves. Lady Emilia and Maria were the first to do so, the redheaded twins falling on top of them. So they lay there now...

As the Master approached, Lady Emilia moved, pushed the body of one of the twins off herself, rose to her feet. She stared at Carlon as if he were a stranger. Inhaled deeply. Lowered her gaze. Leaned down to give Cristina her hand. Her right — the Guardsman's left arm dangled as a whip. The blue sleeve of her uniform had turned to bloody rags. Even without being a healer, Carlon knew at once that the bone had been broken in several places, both above and below the elbow. The pain must have been hellish, but the little brown-eyed girl ignored it utterly. Pulling the unharmed duchess out from under the bodies of the guardsmen, she knelt down and tried to take the other twin off Lady Maria. With her only working arm, this was not working well. The magician hurried to help her.

Lady Kaya took most of the shots. Six holes gaped in the back plate of her cuirass, and another chunk of lead pierced the girl's neck above the gorget. Trying to stabilize the guardsman was too late — the agony was beginning. Holding back the unexpected sickness, the mage turned away from the dying woman to attend to her sisters. Lady Adela, already wounded today, was a little luckier — two bullets entered her back above the waist, one below. Only the last wound was not in danger of bleeding internally. Finally, Lady Maria was shot in both legs above the knees. She could not stand up, but she suffered perhaps the least — the lead did not hit her bones or her femoral arteries.

— I'll take care of myself, — the pale girl said to Carlton as she fumbled for a purse with a clean cloth on her belt. — And Emilia, too. It's not for nothing... I read all those books... Help Adela.

Carlon darted a glance behind his belt, searching for the amulet that would staunch blood, and glanced at the elf-woman. She was already sitting up, gripping her temples, with the sergeant holding her back. Well, at least these two are all right...

A dragon with a commander's pennant made another run at the tower. At the last moment it slowed, spreading its wings wide, and lowered itself to the edge of the platform, clutching at the stone battlements with its forelegs, resting its hind legs against the wall. Master swallowed involuntarily as he saw the black curved claws crumbling the stone. A rider in a black and gold leather suit jumped from the dragon's neck, pulling his closed helmet from his head. Smoothing lush mustache, stepped toward the duchess, raised his hand in salute:

— Baron Basil Zonatakos, Air Corps of the Ninth "Iron" Army of the Empire. Your Highness the Duchess of Elvart, I presume?

Christina simply nodded. She stood with her arms folded across her chest, her dress stained with dark traces of blood.

— I have been instructed to take you to safety, Your Highness. Would the camp of your escort below be such a place?

— Certainly, Baron. But we have wounded Guardsmen who need immediate assistance. Bring them down to camp first.

— Your Highness, I have been instructed...

— Baron. — Christina the Second has lifted her chin. — Are you forcing me to repeat myself?

— I... Yes, Your Highness.

Carlon had seen all sorts of things in war, but he'd never seen a dragon used to transport the wounded. Lady Maria was taken in the first batch, along with Adela. A mage carried the girl to the dragon in his arms, helping to seat her behind the dragonrider. Maria's face, always pale and sore, was colorless from the blood loss, even her lips turned white. Only bright blue eyes gleamed feverishly. And yet she found the strength to smile stammeringly at the master. As the winged lizard rose into the air, Valria approached Carlon. The elf was unaccustomedly disheveled and mussed, with untidy strands of golden hair sticking out of her mane.

— Tell me, Carlon... Don't you love me at all? — she asked in a mock pitying voice, peering into the wizard's face.

— You see... I never wanted a little sister, — the Master sighed, glancing up at the dragon. — And now that I have one, against my will, I don't know what to think. I guess I love her. There, I said it out loud.

— Dummy. I'm a hundred and five years old.

— So?

— So. I'm the eldest.

— That's good. You're the eldest.

Her Highness Christina the Second was the last to be taken from the tower, along with those who did not need a physician's help — that is, the mercenaries and the body of Lady Kaya. Below, the Duchess was greeted by the girl guardsmen left in the camp. Throwing away all their restraint and seriousness, they enclosed Christina in an embrace, almost dropping her to the ground. One of the bodyguards even cried, throwing not only Carlon, but all those present in a deep confusion. The Duchess of Elvart stroked the heads of her protectors and soothed them with tender words, just like children. Having finally let her mistress go, the guardsmen lifted the fallen sister in their arms and carried her away without allowing anyone to help.

— Your Highness, what to do with the castle? — Sir Harold, who had assumed command of the escort, asked Christina.

— Leave it as it is, — replied the Duchess. — I would advise no one to enter it. Perhaps the Emperor will send his mages and investigators here at a later time, but for now it is enough that the gates are locked, with no one to open them. Take down the siege, sir. We rest all day today and care for the wounded. Tomorrow, we move on to the capital. Our schedule has not been cancelled.

The raiders requisitioned the only decent bath in the village in the name of the duchess, but it was immediately occupied by women — Christina herself, Valria and Dallan. Soaked in Peter's blood and freezing cold, Carlon had to walk around the camp for a while, waiting for his turn. He visited the duke's healer, made sure the wounded guardsmen were asleep and Lady Adele was in no danger, and talked to the soldiers. It turned out that as soon as the gates of the castle had closed, Sir Harold had released a pair of carrier pigeons brought in by the clibanarians. He must have acted on the instructions left by Christina, and the dragons over the castle did not appear by coincidence — they simply arrived before the other reinforcements summoned from the capital. Finally getting to the sweat lodge, the master washed the dust of the dead castle off himself properly. The wizard could not make it to his room, but lay down on a straw mattress near the soldiers' fire and fell asleep there.

Late the next morning, the cortege was preparing to leave. The wounded remained in the village under the guard of a dozen raiders. New healers were to be sent from the city — a personal healer Christina preferred to see by her side. Lady Emilia, despite the terrible condition of her left arm, was able to climb into the saddle, so that in the hut of the village head, which had become a hospital, Carlon found only Adela and Maria. The surviving twin was asleep; Maria was reading.

— She had not woken up? — the mage asked, taking a seat on the stool at the head of the bed.

— No. — Maria put the book aside. — Sleep heals.

— She doesn't know yet that Kaya is dead.

— Yes. But don't let that worry you, Master.

— О.... — Carlon shifted his eyebrows. — She'll come back, just like Jana, won't she?

— Probably. If she wants to.

They were silent for a while, for the first time not knowing what to talk about. Maria stroked the cover of her book with her fingertips, smiled uncertainly:

— I've been lucky with my wounds. The scars on my legs will heal. It could have hit my face, after all. Am I still beautiful, Master?

— You are still beautiful, lady, — the wizard smiled back.

— I wish we had made it to the capital together. I had hoped we would have more time. But you recall my words? Our paths are parting. It is time for us to say goodbye. Perhaps we will meet again, but please do not look for that meeting on purpose.

— Of course we will. — The mage hummed. — Her Highness will travel back the same way in a few days. I'm sure she will take you with her.

— Oh... — There was a silly expression on the guardsman's face. — I hadn't thought of that.

After a moment's pause, they laughed together — quietly, for fear of waking the wounded woman...

Epilogue

It was long past midnight and the lanterns on the streets of Elvart were extinguished. The moon was obscured by clouds, and the only room of the cottage and its garden were lit only by the embers in the fireplace and the oil lamp on the table. Pulling the lamp closer, Carlon leafed through "The History of the Noble Iderling Dynasty," not really making sense of the pages. Valria and Dallan were snoozing peacefully on the bed, under the blanket they shared, and the wizard should have been asleep on his cot in the corner. But he was stubbornly turning page after page. His mind was a muddled mess. There was too much to think about.

The homage had gone without a hitch. The way back did not cause problems either — fortunately, after the unsuccessful assassination attempt, the duchess had a whole army to accompany her. Already in the lands of the duchy cortege caught up with the news, which Her Highness wanted to share with the mercenaries. She summoned them to her tent, where, in addition to Christina, Lady Emilia was present with her arm in a sling.

— Three days ago, King Octavian the Third Iderling was murdered in his own hunting castle. Along with his wife, his sons, his two daughters, and his young grandson, — the Duchess reported as everyone settled into their folding camping chairs. — The method of killing is unknown. There is talk of poisonous fumes filling the refectory where the king and his family dined. Only Octavian's middle daughter, who was in another castle, survived. She immediately left under heavy guard for the royal palace. She was killed right outside with a shot to the head. Firearms were fired, from a great distance. There is panic in the Coalition. They are looking for distant relatives of the king from side branches of the dynasty. The capital, Daert, smells of civil war.

— This is... very familiar, — Carlon stretched out. — Very familiar.

— Undoubtedly, — the Duchess nodded. — But why are our enemies doing to them what's been happening to us?

— Well... — Valria tilted her head to her shoulder, one ear cocked. — Either there are some internal forces fighting in the Coalition, or the Coalition has nothing to do with what is happening, and they are victims too.

— But we know Peter was working for the Iderlings, — Dallan remarked.

— How do we know that? — The elf-woman raised her eyebrows. — From the word of one man. A resident of Imperial Intelligence.

There was silence in the tent for about two minutes. At last Carlon dared to ask:

— What shall we do?

— Nothing, for now, — answered Christina the Second. — Hurrying now is the worst thing to do. If someone wants me dead, I must live. Let's stop there. And we'll look for new leads.

— But Your Highness, why are you bringing us into all this? — Valria leaned back as if her stool had a backrest. — You know that I am personally acquainted with the chief of imperial intelligence, and in general, just a mercenary working for money.

— I know, Captain, — the duchess assured her. — However, after the experience in the castle of my precious cousin, I trust you. And that, in our position, is the most important thing. I need people I can trust. There are fewer and fewer of them. If you don't mind staying with me...

— In part, — the elfess interrupted Christina unceremoniously. — Your Highness, I am happy to help you untangle the tangle around this story. But I will not 'stay with you. I am commander of a free company and will remain so.

— I understand, Lady Valria. — The Duchess lowered her eyelids and turned her gaze to the wizard. — And you, Master Carlon? You are not part of the Captain's company, and I can offer you a post in the palace guard. With special powers.

— I'll have to think about it, — Carlon answered quickly.

— Certainly. — Christina the Second suddenly smiled. — You have time.

The mercenaries could have spent the first night at the palace on their return to Elwart, but Valria was in a hurry to see her favorite cottage, and Carlon followed her there. He ended up spending the night there, as the girls had dragged an old mattress and a couple of blankets out of the closet especially for the mage. However, sleep did not come. Staring blankly into a book, the mage tried to think of a dozen things at once. Who had truly summoned the assassin from the other world? Why would the Empire kill Elvartian rulers if the Duchy was a strong and loyal vassal? Why would the Coalition want chaos in a kingdom on which the military might of the entire West rests? Why did Mr. Sandr contract the company for the last missions, and then where did he go? Is it worth accepting the Duchess's offer? A post in the guard is a steady income, a job in the palace. And a job at the palace is a job with Maria. The chance to be with her every day. But if he joins the guards, he will dive deeper into politics than he is now and become a servile man. Would it be worth it?

The mage removed his pewter-rimmed glasses, rubbed the bridge of his nose with force, and... barely contained a frightened cry. On the other side of the table, two yellow dots were burning in the gloom. The golden dots just hung motionless in the air outside the circle of light from the lamp. Looking closely, Maitre realized that the lights were eyes. Around them was the faint outline of a face — a woman's face, no doubt.

— Lady Yana? — The mage asked uncertainly. The lights flickered up and down-the shadow nodded. Carlon could see her fully now — the ghost was sitting on a chair, leaning on the tabletop with her elbow. Jana was not yet strong enough to manifest, and she seemed to be just that transparent black shadow in which barely visible familiar outlines — short hair, round shoulder pads of cuirass, cloak falling on the back...

— Why are you here? — Carlon asked in a thicker voice. Had any one ever told him he would so calmly converse with a wraith... But the Wizard had little fear of Lady Yana, particularly after what he had seen at the castle. — Come to say goodbye?

The lights in her golden eyes flickered to the left and right. A hand reached out and touched a porcelain teapot beside the lamp.

— Uh... Would you like some tea? — The astonished master took the teapot in his hands, filled the cup, and held it up to the ghost. The shadow made a movement, as if to take the cup and sip from it — though the cup remained in place. Then stood up, walked over to the closet. She took her cloak off her shoulders and hung it inside — the shadow of the cloak disappeared. "Undressed," Lady Jana walked over to the bed, lay down on its edge so as not to touch the sleeping girls, and put her hands behind her head. The yellow lights went out, followed by the shadow itself.

— And what is that supposed to mean? — The mage asked into the void. He still held the teapot in his hands, hesitating to put it on the table. — Wait... Lady Jana, are you staying with us?

No one answered him. The light in the oil lamp flickered and something crackled in the fireplace.

— It's wonderful. — The wizard thought aloud. — They're bringing that lizard back one of these days.

Yes, it would seem that the mercenary company of the "Brightheads" had finally begun to grow. An empty-headed elf, a fattening mage, a noble exile, an overseas lizard, and the ghost of a guardsman. Comrades to be dreamed of...

The end.

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