Chapter 21

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The feeling of the waning power was a little frightening and delightful at the same time. There are few remained in the kingdom of such houses with a consciousness of their own. Only half a hundred in Taleya, and scattered across the provinces, the ancestral nests of the higher aristocracy that had survived the fires of the Catastrophe. The oldest and most powerful was the main Royal Palace, which vampires would not venture into, though some mansions were as old as it was. But not comparable in power.

The Guardian of Thar slowly fell asleep, obeying the will of his mistress. It had enough energy for hundreds of years of sleep, waiting for one of its creator's direct descendants to come and wake it. It's amazing how elemental magic and appeals to the gods, which were considered the pinnacle of science, are now useless, while the crude, primitive forms of working with the basics, lacking clear-cut canons, are still in effect. Not very successfully compared to ancient times, but they do have an effect. That is why so many necromancers have proliferated, priests of various deities are more or less successfully nourished by believers, and representatives of aristocratic families derive their power from the family egregore.

In fact, Latham cursed quite effectively even after death. He lost his body abilities when he became a vampire, but he didn't lose the support of the collective spirit of his ancestors. Interesting.

Celeste smiled at the edges of her lips as she noticed the girl stroking the stone slabs before getting to her feet. It was like petting a dog. In a way, it was so: for her Guardian was not a dangerous otherworldly creature, created by forgotten cruel sorcery, but a mighty and loyal pet. Their bond is unbreakable.

When the operation was designed, Latham put an iron wall in front of his Mistress, dissuading her from taking part in it personally. It is necessary to admit that his arguments had a basis - other telepaths, of which there were enough in Celesta's retinue, would be able to shake out Laar the answers to the necessary questions. At the very least, the former chief could be kidnapped and get everything useful from him in a quiet working environment. To the bodyguard's deepest regret, the Mistress found something to object to. And now the poor man was torn between the etiquette, which forbade standing with his back to the superior or grabbing her by the clothes, not letting her forward, and the acute desire to drag the guarded object far away. Because an attacking Guardian is the scariest thing imaginable. Even a leashed one during a fight with Carlon is not that dangerous, at least not to the undead.

"I have done, Messen Kart." The girl staggered faintly, supported by one of the servants under her arm. "The mansion is put to sleep."

Latham, not trusting the words, walked to the end of the corridor, touched the narrow door leading to the basement, listened to his senses, and only after checking satisfied nodded:

"Very good. It is good to see that such a young Messena is worthy of her noble ancestors. Your skills are not inferior to your beauty, and I will be sure to inform the Baroness of the speed and ease with which you performed the ritual. I have no proper words to express my gratitude, but perhaps a modest gift will at least partially prove the sincerity of my feelings."

In the hands of Reggie, who stayed in the shadows, a small box appeared out of nowhere, which he opened and presented to Illytissa with a bow. The girl took out some papers, glanced through them, and nodded contentedly.

"Believe me, Messen, that gratitude is more than enough." By the look on her face, one could see that she could hardly contain a happy smile.

"It is not worth the hardship that my request has forced you to go through," Latham still said graciously.

Although both parties got what they wanted, it was not long before they parted. The young noblewoman was fervently thankful for the documents that allowed her family's affairs to improve - and Celesta understood her. The old baroness had just been given a good chance to regain some of her former possessions. Letters from the governor of the province that held the lands that had been torn away, in experienced hands, offered the broadest possibilities for blackmail. Latham, on the other hand, was glad to talk to the great-granddaughter of a woman who remembered him alive and hoped to continue the acquaintance. Both because of the possible benefits and because both had previously belonged to the same circle, they understood each other very well.

Finally, Illytissa was led away by a guard who was frowning at the polite, elegant aristocrat. This Emeric, unlike his mistress, was well aware of who they were dealing with, and obviously eager to say goodbye to the undead. Afraid they would be killed now that the girl had accomplished her task. In vain. High society people in distress are great recruiting material.

"We're ready, Messena," Once again examining the door to the basement, Latham turned to Mistress.

"Go on, then, Messen Kart!" Celesta fluttered her eyelashes like a silly little girl. "We are only waiting for your command. Do you see how docile we are?"

It's okay to fool around a little among your comrades. Even a living legend has the right to fool around a little next to her comrades-in-arms, who have known her for more than a hundred years. Especially since the most dangerous part of the upcoming case has been accomplished, the many-experienced gut does not give any alarm signals, and there are almost no obstacles on the way to the goal.

They had been preparing for the visit to Laar's house for a long time. Ever since the day when a little-known officer from a side branch of the chancellor's own family was appointed to a high and responsible position, the risens began to gather information about the new chief. Where he went, what he liked, habits and hobbies, sins and weaknesses. There was nothing unusual in the interest in the leadership - all senior officers of the Secret Guard were developed as far as possible. Another thing is that before in the chair of the head of the "spiders" dilettante "from the outside" did not sit (there was one general, closely associated with the army intelligence, but there is its own specifics), and as a consequence, such rich opportunities for surveillance Laar predecessors did not provide. He did not watch his tongue, his guards were poorly organized, and the newly appointed head of intelligence had little idea about secrecy. Although even in such splendid conditions he had to act with the utmost caution.

Initially, Celeste did not plan to take out or carry out any actions against the new chief - she wasn't crazy. And after reading the collected materials, the prospects were brilliant! Laar seemed, at first, to be the incompetent leader she had dreamed of for centuries. Alas, time had shown that working with an amateur was far more difficult than one would have liked.

Then the main "spider" moved into the mansion taken from the Thars, and they managed to add one of the Morvanites as a servant. A filigree operation of which Celeste was justifiably proud. The cultist worked, eavesdropping on conversations that did not always take place in secure offices, information poured in a generous stream, and everything was going fine. Until the authorities decided to get rid of the risens.

And then, after much hesitation, Mistress made a decision.

An official who is dishonorably discharged is not the same as one who continues to serve. He has fewer opportunities, and his protection is worse. Most importantly, his death will not be perceived as an affront to the current government, which means that the investigation will be less thorough. So if Laar had remained the head of the "spiders", Mistress would not have dared to take today's step. But when she did... The multi-layered cover-up operation involved almost all of the community's resources. Agents were spreading contradictory rumors that would later be used to attribute the murder to at least a dozen serious political players, including the Chancellor himself. From various sources, the city's smugglers were receiving orders for complex ingredients to facilitate the ritual of putting the guardian to sleep. Four mages of the Academy suddenly met extremely secretive but generous individuals in urgent need of advice on the same matter.

Tonight dozens if not hundreds of people, watched the streets adjacent to the mansion. Under the ground, the guards were carried by the risens. The cultist swore that four guards inside the house wielded weapons, the rest were mere servants and posed no danger. The magical defenses were successfully suppressed by the combined efforts of Celesta and Latham, and the ancient Guardian was put to sleep by Messena Illytissa. So far, things are going as well as they can possibly go.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Mistress of the Vampires knew very well that it was too early to relax. But she wasn't going to hide her good mood.

"Vantal."

Latham, apparently, had decided that since his mistress did not want to behave seriously, the burden of responsibility would fall on his shoulders. In principle, it was the intention from the beginning - Celesta today will be busy with the deep gutting of Laar's brain, she does not care about her safety. If you can't kidnap the former head of the spiders, and he knows a lot, direct reading of the memory seems to be the only viable option.

It took them a long time to get into the basement of the Thar mansion. Vantal first questioned the rats about the situation in the house, then it took a long time to open the secret door - it was closed on the outside with a tricky lock. They managed it. Only when they were certain they were safe from harm did the risens manage to get inside. They made their way noiselessly, treading carefully first on the stone floorboards and then on the rusted wooden steps, up to the first floor, where they were met by an agent. He had spiked a sleeping potion into the servants' food since the night before, so they had no fear of intruders unexpectedly appearing. Not that they would interfere, but it was advisable to avoid unnecessary deaths. Hustin was not the only one who practiced necromancy.

The morvanite's eyes popped out of their sockets at the sight of her, and he knelt down and began ecstatically praising the Dark One. It was exactly the reaction she'd been expecting. To mortals, Celesta was henceforth the visible embodiment of Morvan's will, his messenger, and supreme authority. In principle, this was how she had been perceived before, but after "resurrecting" she confirmed her status and greatly strengthened her position as high priestess and supreme spiritual authority. Of course, the heads of some cults knew the truth, but the official version suited them completely.

After fixing the fanatic up a bit (the man cried when he got his blessing), they moved on. There was a slight hitch on the second floor, near the room where Laar's guards were, but by the time Celesta came up the stairs, it was over. Four trained, prepared men could do nothing against the undead assassins. As helpless as vampires are by day, they're just as deadly fast and strong by night.

Laar was found in his room. He had fallen asleep sitting in an armchair, a wide red stain on the lush carpet, and the stuffy air of the room was thick with the scent of alcohol. The man had not yet sunk completely and drank expensive wine, but in huge quantities, and started in the afternoon. He was pining, hearty. Celesta would have felt sorry for him if he hadn't bled her so much (sometimes literally - she used her own to cure her subjects) and if Laar hadn't been heir to a long line of hated "spiders" that had restricted her freedom for centuries.

Bring him to his senses.

Obedient to the order of their Mistress, the two risens began to rouse and rub the mortal, one of them pressed the drunk on the jaw and deftly poured a disgusting taste of sobering infusion into his mouth. The man tried to fight back. It took about five minutes before a meaningful expression appeared in his eyes and he began to look around, trying to figure out what was going on and who all these people were.

When he saw Celeste taking off her cloak and sitting there with her face open, he sobered up.

"It seems that you recognize me, Laar?"

The man wheezed at the first sound of a quiet, distant voice. The vampire, standing to his right and behind him, deftly slipped a vial of something smelly under his nose, justifiably fearing a heart attack. The remedy worked. Taking several deep breaths, Laar wheezed:

"You are dead!"

"From the point of view of the vast majority, absolutely," the vampiress agreed. -"Though some thinkers think otherwise. Drowning your resignation in wine?"

"None of your business!"

A powerful slap knocked him to the floor. Latham was not ashamed to punish his Mistress' abuser himself, especially since he had long wanted to do the same to his former superior. However, he immediately picked up the prisoner by the scruff of his neck and put him back where he had been.

"Messena Celesta," the knight said clearly in the ear of the shrunken little man.

"Leave it, Latham," she waved her hand. She paid no attention to the short scene, thinking of something else. "It's not the big deal now."

She sat in the deep armchair Reggie had helpfully brought from the next room. It was so massive that her small figure was lost between the high armrests, and her feet didn't reach the floor. The vampire hadn't bothered to find a more suitable seat, and all the furniture in the study didn't look very clean and smelled like wine.

Celesta felt no discomfort. She wasn't concerned with trivialities right now.

"You know, Laar, in another situation I would have admired you," she admitted, looking at the huddled prisoner over her clutched hands. "Even now, at the last, you manage to make a mess of things. Why did you have to get drunk and make it so hard for me?"

Mistress twitched the corner of her mouth in displeasure. Time was short enough as it was, and now she would have to spend it on bringing Laar's body back to normal. Normally drunken people are easy prey for the sensor, but today she would have to go too deep into the object's memory and should exclude any surprises. Well, let's rely on Hustin's skills.

"Infuse him with potions."

The weakly kicking man began to receive various poisons from the vials. First one, they waited five minutes, then the next one, paused again until the elixir had been absorbed and Laar had stopped writhing in the guards' hands, then another and another... At the end of the procedure, the once arrogant and imperious man was a rather pitiful sight. Shaking with fear, turning his face away from light sources and whimpering softly, he had lost the will to resist and was in a perfect state for mind reading.

She can begin.

The wise and cruel creature, destined to wear the guise of a teenage girl forever, was leaning over Laar, sprawled across the table. Just in case, the unconscious man was held by his arms and legs by the guardsmen standing at his sides, though there was no particular need to do so. That was why Celesta had survived, unlike so many other vampires her age, because she always expected and prepared for the worst. Yes, before, mortals in similar circumstances hadn't moved or tried to attack. So what?

A short exhalation for concentration. Her hands tightly encompassed the mortal's head. He rolled his pupils, but that didn't disturb her - physical contact was more important. With the undead it's much easier to work with, they don't fight back, not like humans. Thoughts, memories, feelings - what could be more important? What else is there to protect with such fury? Consciousness turns into a narrow blade, a needle designed to pierce nature's created defenses. The subject was lucky. The amulets have been removed from him, he has refused the seal-tattoo, and he has not exhausted himself with meditation and training. A weak will. Yes! There's a wormhole! Another one! Envy, cowardice, pride, vanity - emotions make a man stronger and they also weaken him. They betray.

Dark feelings lead to Darkness. They undermine the inner balance, upset the equilibrium, leave cracks and cavities in the shell that protects the mind, and poison the mind. A favorite tool of the mind-reader, fail-safe in its simplicity.

The magicians said that each person's inner world is unique and unlike any other. Celeste did not argue, but she always saw the same thing: light gray corridors filled to the ceiling with murky water, and vivid images emerging in the side aisles. The first woman, his father's scolding, the chancellor's menacing expression of displeasure... Like a huge snake, she slid from memory to memory, searching for the tidbits and swallowing her prey without trying to comprehend. She would sort it out later. She would have taken the whole memory, but it was impossible - even a three-year-old child remembers an enormous amount, let alone an adult. So it remains, not going into the subconscious, to take the most obvious, vivid. Too bad. Sometimes you learn more from half-forgotten, boring conversations than from a heated argument, in the heat of which the rivals stop holding back and throw facts.

It was getting harder to move, the water becoming denser with each swallow. It wasn't over yet, but it was time to call it a day. She'd already taken an unexpected amount; it would take more than a day to go through the stolen memories. Her head would surely ache. That's it, the last piece - a conversation with an important official in the corridor of the Royal Palace, where Celestф had never been before and hoped never to appear. It's safe to go. Before, at the very beginning of her experiments with other people's minds, she would look for the point of entry, and return to the conventional place where she entered the object's memory. Over time, her skills have grown, and now all she has to do is wish and she will find herself near the exit. In the future, if she keeps practicing, she will learn to leave another's mind from any place without leaving a trace. At least, that's the promise of the treatises copied from the academic library, and Garresh assured her.

For a brief moment, she was disoriented and staggered. Instantly, someone else's strong arms supported her, and then, in a jerking, sharp flash, her senses returned, and she felt herself standing up. The mortal's head was still wedged between her palms, not a single emotion or thought on his face. Emptiness. The mind might not yet be completely destroyed, but the connection to the body was already lost. Laar's identity was gone, and his body would soon follow.

"Time?"

"An hour passed." Latham handed the Mistress a goblet of wine. His throat was dry and his voice sounded like a crow's caw. "We are on schedule. The house is quiet, no suspicious activity outside or in the catacombs."

Celeste set the goblet aside, took the vial from the pocket on her belt, and hastily drank the contents. Her head was aching. The recoil from the use of powerful abilities, as well as any damage sustained through magical means, was far more intense in the risens than a steel wound.

"Then finish up here - and let's go."

"Yes, Messena," the knight nodded and immediately began to give orders. "Reggie, stay with me. The rest of you, take the lady to the first floor."

Celesta broke away from the table and staggered faintly toward the stairs that led downstairs. Latham could do just fine here without her. And the ritual of cursing the soul of a fallen enemy will be done according to all the canons, wiping out most of the emanations from the actions of the Mistress. And cover the floor with a pattern of runes, which in a few hours will clear the room of residual traces of the undead. Poke a thin needle in a still living body where it is supposed to, so that the victim suffered hours of unbearable pain and died not at once. At least, that's what the investigators will think.

It was a good night. Now it's just a matter of getting home.

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