Chapter 16

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It turns out that twenty-six hours in a day is monstrously few. Four six hours, blessed by the higher elemental gods, and two separate hours, noon and midnight, dedicated to Illiar and his grim brother Morvan, are woefully inadequate. She must keep an eye on the exodus, sending out wagons to other cities and even countries every night. She has to listen to the many spies and snitches, now focused primarily on keeping tabs on one's home office. She must meet with Medea, who lately has been bringing back information from palaces and salons that is as important as it is contradictory. She must go to Garresh.

She must.

She must.

She must.

The time was catastrophically short. Celesta did not hibernate during the day, like young vampires, but she needed at least a short nap during the day. So she disliked the sudden rushes that deprived her of rest and drove her into a state of silent frenzy.

"What else do you want, Hustin?"

The warlock knew perfectly well that it was dangerous to approach a sleeping vampire (for creatures with warm blood, deadly), but he underestimated his mistress' abilities. As a result, he was now lying on the floor, his nose tucked into the expensive carpet and listening anxiously to the crackling of the tendons in his arm behind his back. The sorcerer had some experiments with students scheduled for tomorrow, and he didn't want to come into the classroom with broken limbs.

His situation was aggravated by the fact that since last night Celeste had remained somewhat in a bad mood. The Zervan boys had spoiled her mood. In addition to their core activities of smuggling and controlling the Taleya criminal community, the undead thugs were covering up some establishments deemed beneficial to the community. A couple of high-end restaurants, for example, or smokehouses. They weren't really interested in the profits, Gardoman was in charge of the profits, and they kept the restaurants and stuff for information. And blackmail, of course.

Although it was expressly forbidden for the risen to work against the nobility, maintaining brothels for perverts was deemed advisable. Here, of course, a nobleman had every right to amuse himself as they pleased, nothing could be forbidden but still, public opinion took a sharply negative view of certain peculiarities. Zoophilia was not encouraged, nor was the necrophilia. But with people, the nobility could do as they pleased, both with their own subjects and with the king's free conditional slaves. The penalty for killing a free citizen was a hundred dinars, and if the murderer could prove he had been insulted, the fee was reduced fivefold. The word of a noble was accepted by the court as proof.

In special brothels, unknown to the general public, truly horrible things were practiced. Rape of children to death, torture to order. The corpses of the "workers" were often so disfigured that they were not taken to temples for ritual burning but burned themselves. Celesta did not like this very much, but she could not change the situation. First of all, perverts and sadists were, are, and will be; there was no escaping it. It was not humanly possible to destroy or cure them all, so she could only hope that they, the scum, could be kept under some kind of control. But, secondly, now and here all this mold remains out of reach. Most of the visitors to the "special" brothels were very rich people, belonging to the upper or middle stratum of the nobility. They had long ago become satiated with ordinary entertainment, and in search of sharper pleasures, they practiced things that made even the habitual risens shudder.

True, not everyone shuddered. Some didn't care. They were the ones who looked after the brothels, using the staff's services from time to time. From time to time Mistress was tempted to get rid of too unsightly a part of her little empire, but on reflection, she stopped every time. At least under her watch, the contagion would not spread.

The closest candidate for imminent death - Celesta was careful to get rid of her fellows with a certain type of morality, and he took advantage of his position, figuratively speaking, to have so much fun with three girls that only one was left alive, and that was the disfigured one. The scoundrel asserted that he could not restrain his inner demon, who had sensed the scent of blood. Whether he was telling the truth or not was of no concern to the Mistress. She did not tear the offender on the spot only because she wanted to arrange something showy, to teach a lesson that would long be remembered by others. So they would know that her orders were always obeyed.

"Neville is dead," Hastin said, turning his head cautiously to the side. "She killed herself."

"Did she do it herself or was she helped?"

"I don't know. Master is sorting it out right now."

With a heavy sigh, the vampiress climbed down from her subordinate's back.

"Tell."

"There's nothing to tell..." The dark mage cautiously kneaded the injured limb. "They found her in the lab a few hours ago. It looks like she was trying to perform some kind of experiment, but she made a mistake. That's not the reason I'm here - it's a chance to steal all the dead woman's research. Give me five of our porters."

"How do you see it?" The girl in the robe asked with skepticism in her voice. "The investigators will probably seal everything they can get their hands on. And, as I remember, in the case of death the teacher's property goes to the Academy, except for money and family valuables."

"Neville, when she showed me the results of her work, gave me the keys to some of her security spells," said Hustin rather contentedly. "I'll hack the rest. Master will notice, of course, but he won't interfere, I've made a deal with him."

"Why would he give us practically his possessions?" Celesta wondered.

"Well, he doesn't believe there's anything valuable in there. Neville has no exclusives in the library, the results on the main topic of research are astonishing, and he's probably already scoured the lab. The rest is of interest only to the temple searchers, whom the master would be happy to flick on the nose."

The Mistress was satisfied with the explanation, but she was not going to take her busy subjects away from their work. They had enough to do. When Hustin proves that he really has removed the protection and that the deceased really has something to expropriate, then it will be the turn of the undead to work as porters. Until then, excuse me.

"I'll take it off right now," the sorcerer was indignant at the lack of confidence in his professional skills. "Let me show you!"

Celesta cursed mentally, remembering how easy it was to dare her a comrade-in-arms. It was enough to question his abilities out loud. Why not take a walk, though? She hadn't spoken to Tyran in a long time; the old man must have something to tell her, and she, too, would like to share the news and get some counseling at the same time. It wasn't her fate to rest today.

"Let's go," the girl agreed. "Let's see what you woke me up for."

Hustin had the conscience to look embarrassed.

As she exited the dungeon, Latham appeared silently on her left shoulder. Mistress glanced at the bodyguard but said nothing, it was useless. Though it would be interesting to know how he knew of her sudden departure this time. He wouldn't say.

Despite the generally tense situation in the Capital, the risens did not fear an attack. Those who like to take others' goods, usually by instinct, understand who can offer resistance and who can't. And they don't touch the first ones, preferring to look for easier prey. And there was an omen in Taleya saying that to attack a teenage girl at night would mean trouble. So despite the occasional group of armed men on the way, they walked without incident, whispering to discuss common themes. Fortunately, there were enough of them.

The families of the mortal servants and mere employees of the trade network were for the most part taken either north to the mountains or to Lascaris. With the recent political reshuffle, a third powerful community was about to be established, in Zonna, if Carlon's appearance didn't interfere. Pity, the plans had to be adjusted. However, Hustin decided not to go off the beaten path and quietly transported his living relatives to the islands, to Deep Harbor. Generally speaking, such affection for kin was surprising. The other undead drifted away from the living over time, becoming less and less interested in their affairs as they grew older, while the sorcerer took an active part in the clan's affairs - participating in festivities, educating the young, helping with jobs and positions. No, the others did, too, but... without enthusiasm.

Hustin himself had no intention of going anywhere. He had a well-equipped dungeon in the catacombs that not many risens, let alone humans, would have been able to get into. There was a vast library, an archive, a laboratory, and a repository for all sorts of nastiness. Upstairs was the Academy, his colleagues, the perfect environment for research. He reasonably thought he would be perfectly safe. And he'd sent any family that might be affected to a pirate's nest, having secured the promise of several influential captains to take care of the migrants. So the wizard, in the worst-case scenario, was going to sit for a decade underground, doing research, and looked down on the bustle of the commoners. He didn't refuse help, but he didn't offer it either.

The calm and somewhat pleasant walk was interrupted by Celesta, who stopped. Among the abilities given to adepts of the mental sciences, not the least of them is sensitivity to various kinds of emotions. Although the word "emotion" is not quite right, finding enchanted objects or cursed places also becomes easier. Rather, we are talking about various radiations of natural or human origin. The downside to this ability is sensory overload and the newcomers' desire to stay away from crowded places, and they don't go away until they've mastered ways to ward off mental noise. Mistress had long ago stopped paying attention to the fear, the pain, the anger of fighting, the bitterness and despair of dying in the streets, the joy of survivors, the lust, the rare love, and other feelings common to the night city. But now she felt something new-some subtle trickle, a light whiff that brought a fragrance of half-familiar sensations.

Intuition sounded the alarm, forcing a change of plans. Quietly, with just the lips: "Follow me."

Obediently, acting on instinct rather than consciously, Celesta slipped outwardly slowly from shadow to shadow. In fact, falling into a trance, she was now defenseless, and in the event of an attack, the first moments could only rely on her companions. Both the bodyguard and Hustin were well aware of this. Exchanging worried glances, they stood at the sides of the mistress, hoping to cover her in case of an attack. Latham stepped forward with his blade drawn; the shifting warlock disregarded the consequences and drew a sheaf of amulets from his pocket. He did not activate them yet, for fear of interfering with his mistress, but made ready.

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The farther it went, the more confident it became. The attractive and at the same time repulsive smell was getting thicker, leading more precisely to its source, soon enough Hustin also felt it, though he did not dare to follow the trail. Only twisted his head more actively, looking for a possible ambush. Risens, even non-militants, in the process of training necessarily participated in the hunt for the wild undead and well know their role in the squad. There is a sensor to determine where the threat is coming from, the task of the rest is to cover it.

"Here," Celesta stopped abruptly.

Her face didn't look like a demon mask anymore, at least the fangs weren't protruding from under her lips as they had during the trance. But no one would have confused her with a human. Rather, she now resembled the legendary punishment hounds sent to the damned as punishment for their sins. She was the same short, wary, listening with all her senses to what was going on in the house. Nothing? Not a sound, apart from the creaking of the shutters. It was as if the little yard were dead, and not even the usual snarls of horses or the whimpers of dogs sensing the undead nearby.

"There's a cloaking curtain over the house," Hustin remarked. "Primitive, but powerful."

"I see."

The vampiress quickly considered the situation and concluded that she couldn't wait. I'd have to get inside before the traces melted away. There wasn't likely to be anyone alive in the house - or not alive, she could smell a kindred, too-and even if there was, the three of them could handle any threat. Three older vampires, at the ready, in their own territory! All the more reason to check what they're up against. It's not temple magic, not human sorcery - it feels completely different.

"Go on."

"A trap?" Not so much asked as warned Latham.

"It doesn't look like it."

Hustin did not remove the curtain. There was nothing to prevent someone else's sorcery from passing through the gate, and the risens avoided demonstrating their presence. There was no need to attract the attention of the temple's watcher prophets. So the vampires entered the courtyard one by one, looking around carefully and preparing inwardly for any mischief.

The unpleasant premonitions were confirmed almost at once. In the near corner lay the corpse of a dog, which, judging by the strained chain and blood-soaked paws, had tried to escape from something horrible till the last moment. A glance into the small pen showed Latham that the small animals, often kept in the city's less prosperous farms, were in the same condition. They were dead, with no external wounds, their mouths lined with foam, and wide-open eyes filled with horror.

Latham was the first to enter the open door of the house, gloomily examining the cracked signs of protection against the Darkness on the walls. The mortals had painted them in the hope of avoiding unpleasant nighttime visits. They could do little to hinder the res, unlike the work of true warlocks or priests, but they could keep nightmares or other trivial matters at bay. Stepping softly across the floorboards, the knight carefully avoided the scattering of small objects. Experience told him they wouldn't find anyone here. Whoever had done what here had carried out their intentions and left, leaving only corpses behind them. Three adults, and five children.

Mistress silently drew a small circle in the air, ordering her companions to finish their inspection of the house, and she sat down at the entrance to the central room. The mortals seemed to have been used as a source of blood and power for some kind of ritual. Nothing unusual - almost all wizards practiced this method of replenishing energy in some way or another. Except they use runes in a different way.

"Not our school," said Hustin, who had returned. He could find no one, and in good conscience he trusted Latham to finish the survey, believing he could do as well alone. "The basics are the same, but we work differently with runes."

"The undead have been here," Celesta whispered, stroking the floor with her fingertips. "They needed the power to hide from the mages, and they took it from death. Four of them."

"Carlon's servants? Isn't it a little early for them?"

"Yes, I was hoping for another quiet week."

"A reconnaissance unit?"

"It looks like it," the risen agreed.

Or not. Having lost two of his weakest but most loyal servants, a priest would hardly dare to send anyone else into the heart of the enemy's domain. He did not like to delegate, trusting only himself. It was more his style to think of a faster way to travel, to reach the city as quickly as possible, to announce himself as something global. He liked spectacular effects, he loved them.

If you consider the trade routes... A group of vampires could take over the ship, capture the crew, and sail to Taleya. The young ones in the hold, the older ones not so afraid of the sun. Then, yes, they'd saved a week's journey.

"Let's go back," Celesta commanded. "Latham!"

The bodyguard came up from somewhere on the side and shook his head negatively. No one in the house survived, and the intruders were gone. The Mistress, who didn't expect any other answer, nodded faintly and commanded:

"Set the house on fire. The rumors will appear anyway, but maybe they won't connect the murder with the risens. Hustin, I leave Egard and his apprentice at your command - use them for whatever you deem necessary, but don't let them out into the city. I suspect the guests arrived earlier than we expected. I'd send the Zerwan scouts to the port to see if the strange ship was docked there yesterday or today. By the way, we should check the other quarters, too. If Carlon wants to make a louder announcement of his passage, he's not likely to limit himself to one family that's been butchered."

"Do you suppose they're all here?" Latham asked quietly, pouring oil from the lamps onto the floor.

"We'll soon find out."

What had been mistaken for haste before seemed now almost like recreation. The forgotten and incomprehensible word "Zeitnote" was floating in the depths of her memory, bringing back thoughts of the hungry, poor, and dirty times of her early years in Taleya. Celesta was forced to adjust plans on the fly, meet with dozens of people and non-humans, control thousands of details and understand - they do not have time. The initiative was in the hands of the enemy.

If it had been just Carlon, there would have been no problem. The undead and monsters, sometimes even sentient ones, had raided the city before, so the algorithm for dealing with the visitors was well-tested. Of course, over the decades the mechanism of reaction has become somewhat rusty and crumbled in some places, but it can be restored if the will and desire exist. The Academy's forces can help to deploy a very complex search network, unparalleled in the known world. Mobilize the Temple guards trained to fight the undead, and the guards, even with the protection of the sons of influential officials are still enough experienced masters of the sword. Take to the streets of the feudal lords and hunting parties, gut bandits and smugglers, sift through rumors and search for precious bits of information. Coordination of the giant raid would be entrusted to the Secret Service, which is well known for such operations. Ah, dreams, dreams...

Every force capable of becoming part of an overall inexorably effective structure acted at variance, adding to the growing chaos and hindering the search. From the moment people discovered brutally murdered families in three neighborhoods of the city, the panic had only grown. The authorities, despite the warnings they had received in advance, seemed completely confused and let the capture of the elusive killers go unchecked, confining themselves to threatening demands to stop and prevent.

Naturally, the demands went to the risens.

"How dare you not comply with the highest demand and not eliminate the violators of the divine tranquility!"

"Well, if memory serves me correctly, I only received an order signed by you, Mr. Laar. Nothing more." That's it. Not "honored Laar," or even "noble Laar," but plainly, as if to an ordinary noble of low rank. "Neither the Chancellor Rakawa nor the Son of the Sea, may he rule for ten thousand years, had any special instructions. Perhaps they wished to convey something in words, but in that case, you should have received me sooner. I asked for an audience three nights ago!"

At the last sentence, Celesta raised her voice slightly and leaned forward, glancing around her companions with a heavy gaze. A play, nothing more. She was supposed to be furious at her superiors' ill-conceived actions and irritated, so why not show the expected emotion? In fact, her beloved superiors, represented by the rather nervous Laar and the Chancellor's representative, Baron Tulak, are very right, one might say, filigreed skillful - it's just that they have their own goals. Different from the declared ones.

The Taleya community reacted rapidly to the appearance of the enemy. As many of the mortal servants as they could, they were escorted out of the city that same night, while the rest were ordered to keep their heads down and stay hidden inside their heavily protected estates. Agents ranging from petty street beggars to bribed guard officers were ordered to report any activity of outsiders. Pre-prepared traps in the catacombs were activated, especially for the undead, and the risens moved through the city in groups of at least three. That is, the undead was doing all they could to get rid of the uninvited guests as quickly as possible.

That cannot be said about the living.

First, the academics were forbidden to perform the ritual. The emanations from the use of powerful sorcery would disturb the citizens, terrify them, cause unrest, and in general, we can do without you. The temples of Blue Ang and the Sun will do just fine on their own. Second, the already mentioned temple warriors weren't so much patrolling as they were searching around the houses of certain feudal lords, who, in turn, were actively fortifying the city mansions and, judging by their appearance, were expecting something like an assault. From somewhere in the streets came dozens of preachers, actively shouting about the imminent end of the world and persistently pointing out the specific culprits. And finally, the guards showed themselves. The searches they organized in the poorest neighborhoods sparked several spontaneous riots, but they were quickly suppressed.

Strangely enough, they managed to find common ground with the undead hunters. The men there were mostly seasoned, and cynical, with their own view of the world and no illusions about human nature. Mercenaries with a difficult clientele. Fanatics were rare among them, so most of them accepted the offer to work together that Mistress of Taleya had given them.

But, barring an unexpected alliance with the hunters, the vampires had received no other help. But there was a steady stream of mud being poured on the community.

"It's been five days now that this Carlon of yours has been terrorizing the Capital, and you still can't stop him!"

"He's not mine, he's his own. And didn't you, Baron, when we last met, assert that the temple guards are, and I quote, "perfectly capable of dealing with dead scum"? Perhaps we should direct the question to them?"

"Protecting the subjects of the kingdom from otherworldly forces has always been your job," Tulak pursed his lips in a displeasure. "Don't forget the reason you've been allowed to... exist."

"I have a good memory," Celesta replied without smiling. "I remember everything. You must understand that it is impossible to solve the problem with the available forces and with the opposition, including from the special services. Stop disturbing me and I will catch the outsiders."

"Nobody's stopping you. You just shouldn't have sent two-thirds of your subordinates out of town."

"I won't throw the younger risens against a knowingly stronger enemy - we're small enough as it is. And as for interference... Our patrols are not so much searching for the enemy as they are hiding from "holy warriors" or mercenary detachments. The information from my colleagues, which I was counting on, is nowhere to be found. At least allow me to involve the mages in the search!"

"Impossible," Laar interjected again. "It is a political decision. It was made by the Son of the Sea himself."

"I'm not one to question the wisdom of the blessed one's commands," the girl shrugged. "But I can't help noticing that it costs at least three families slaughtered every night. The countryside is already teeming. It won't be long before there's a riot."

"It is the lot of inferiors to endure and obey," Tulak brushed aside. "Those who dare to rebel will be punished. As will you, Messena Celeste, if you do not rectify the situation in the very near future."

I have nothing to blame myself for. The failure is due to objective reasons, as I've said more than once. Understand - we are dealing with an invasion of the strongest group of old experienced undead, familiar with all human methods. There's no other way to catch them than an all-out raid under a unified leadership. We are wasting our time trying to figure out who is more to blame.

"Because you shouldn't ask for the impossible," Laar muttered. "The idea of holy warriors and the undead working together reeks of madness."

"The madness will begin when the plague comes to Taleya," the vampiress encouraged him. "There is reason to believe that the murders are part of an elaborate ritual to summon the epidemic."

"Oh yes, that deserter of yours. He ran again, didn't he?"

"The former master frightened him too much."

"So can we trust his words?"

"So far, they are supported by the facts."

The mortals exchanged brief glances equally surreptitiously. Politics was politics, but the prospect of a city filled with rotting corpses didn't appeal to them. Especially since infestation doesn't choose its victims.

"We will inform His Grace of your suspicions," Tulac promised. "I think he will take them into account."

In this pairing, he was more independent and served as a confidant of the Chancellor. His promise was worth believing. Laar, despite his seemingly high position, had less influence. Celesta called the current head of the spiders "a man in his place" - that is, he was put in the chair of the Secret Service to cover the affairs of his patrons, so Laar did his best. He fully accomplished his task, but at the same time, he destroyed the most effective structure almost into components. Which, however, the Palace considered an acceptable cost.

"I would be extremely grateful."

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