We reached home calmly and in silence. Well, more accurately, Aun tried to start a conversation multiple times, but I cut him off each time with a sharp gesture.
"Master Raven!" As soon as we crossed the threshold and closed the entrance door behind us, Aun began immediately. "I swear, I didn't…"
"Stop." I interrupted the youth again. "First of all, calm down. Secondly, let's go to the atrium, light a fire, and you'll start cooking dinner."
"Cooking?" The boy said in surprise.
"Exactly!" I nodded, nudging him towards the inner courtyard. "We're hungry, and busy hands help calm the mind. As you can see, preparing dinner solves two problems at once."
"Okay, Master." Clearly pushing himself, the boy agreed with me.
Aun deliberately slowly took out the food from the basket and prepared to cut it, but I made him wash the ingredients in the fountain first. The fact that I hadn't let him speak on the street evidently hurt the boy, and now he was torn between two opposing desires. The first was to talk at last, and the second was to sulk in silence. I didn't help him solve this dilemma. I was thinking. And the thoughts coming to mind were ones I didn't like at all. Not one bit. The death of the rebelling slaves, and especially Cristo, upset me, but I had already come to terms with it. I did it because I thought their deaths were a result of their own stupidity and shortsightedness. But everything might not be so simple.
"Master." Starting to slice the eggplants into roundels, Aun decided he needed to speak up after all. The pause had benefited him; his voice was calm, and he wasn't as jittery as he had been just a short while ago. "I want to assure you that I didn't place any orders at old Vaaliy's wine shop. Not four days ago, not ever! My father was his regular customer, yes, but I wasn't!" After finishing slicing the first eggplant, the young man stopped and looked at me. "I also didn't place any orders at this wine shop through anyone else."
Now I understood why he was so eager to speak up on the street. The boy seemed to think that I would conclude that it was he who, by buying wine for the former slaves, had triggered all the subsequent events, including the conflict with the duty officer and the ensuing fire. If I knew Aun less, I might indeed think so, but I was completely sure that the boy had nothing to do with it.
"I think," noticing my approving nod, the young man continued, "perhaps it was like this... Huran, Cristo, and the rest learned about the almost-closed deal on the carrack late in the evening. Most of the wine shops in the city close before sunset. Most, but not all. And it so happens that the shop of Master Vaaliy belongs to these exceptions. But even working late, Master Vaaliy would hardly make a delivery to strangers. Master Vaaliy mainly deals with regular customers and doesn't trade in small orders. The minimum amount of wine you can buy in his shop is a whole amphora." As far as I could estimate by eye, these amphoras were seven to ten liters; it was difficult to say more precisely because of their specific shape. "The kind of wine he sells is very strong; it's bought not to enjoy the taste but to get drunk. And I think that's an important point." The youth took a small pause, shifting his attention back to cooking, and continued only when he had put the pot on the fire. "If you put everything together, it turns out that Huran, Duar, or Cristo decided to use my name to place an order precisely in the shop of Master Vaaliy."
Aun's reasoning had its own logic, and I might have agreed with his arguments. But there was something that did not allow me to come to such a conclusion.
"Correct me if I'm wrong..." Sitting in an old wicker chair, I took out a dagger and, while continuing to speak, began to run a small "Discharge" along the blade, thereby practicing control. "Master Vaaliy's wine shop is not placed in the busiest part of the market square. I would even say it's located in a little corner."
"That's right," Aun confirms my observations.
"I also did not notice that there was any special attention-grabbing sign hanging over the shop."
"There isn't one."
"We've walked through the market square many times these past few days. We heard a lot of calls, including those inviting us to try this or that wine in this or that wine shop. But, unless my memory is playing tricks on me, I have never heard anyone inviting customers into Master Vaaliy's little shop."
"That's right," the youth agrees. "The wine that Master sells is not tasted - people get drunk on it. And Master Vaaliy's main trade is with regular customers; the share of one-time buyers is not that big. People come to him for a specific product, and mostly, the visitor knows what they need precisely."
"So his wine shop is not very well known?" I clarify.
"Well... you could say that."
"Then I have a question." The "Discharge" running along the blade gleamed particularly brightly at these words. "How did the former slaves, who know little about the city, learn exactly where and from whom to order strong wine if not even every local knows about Master Vaaliy's shop?"
Aun thought for a moment, but his expression soon lightened, and he replied:
"Perhaps the fleet folks suggested it to them. Sailors and junior fleet commanders are the main customers of Master Vaaliy. Officers, of course, do not buy anything from him, as it is not befitting of such respected people to drink such strong wine. But the ordinary sailors really respect fortified wine. My father used to buy it in whole amphoras when he needed to liquor up the crew of a ship and find out some trade secret. No, my father did not liquor up the fleet!" Aun waved his hands as if I could think something bad about his father. "But he did ply the crews of foreign trade ships to learn more about the goods in their holds. So those sailors who were on watch could have suggested to Cristo where to buy strong wine and how best to do it." The young man stirred the vegetables on the fire and added: "They probably didn't just suggest it for free, I think, but for a small bribe. Maybe the watchmen took one amphora from the delivery for themselves. In fact, they probably did."
"It doesn't add up." A small "Discharge" comes off the tip of my dagger and disintegrates in the air with a dry click, not quite the result I was aiming for. "If such advice was given by sailors on port security watch, they wouldn't forget about the bonus of another bottle of wine and would demand it. But no one remembered this bottle. I don't believe that sailors could forget about free alcohol. Rather their ship would sail through the desert than sailors forget about free wine!"
"Master, but the sailors probably didn't even know about this bonus." Aun corrects me. "Because Master Vaaliy only gives a bottle of young wine as a gift when you buy at least four amphoras at a time. And I don't think sailors buy that much all at once. The wine of Master Vaaliy is strong and hits hard, but it's far from being the cheapest, so ordinary sailors can't afford it in such quantities at once."
Basically, everything Aun says fits into a perfectly logical and consistent scheme. And I think I would have calmed down if... if I hadn't remembered a conversation I overheard in a tavern between two fleet officers. This was on my first day in Tries. The officers were discussing how the fleet needed not only giant triremes designed for large naval battles but also small, nimble ships. Galleys for hunting rampant pirates. And as an example of such a fast ship, those officers recalled the "Bloody Wave." And one of the officers participating in that conversation dreamed of becoming a captain of his own ship sooner. And that conversation troubled me. Maybe I'm paranoid, maybe Aun is right about everything, and I'm just seeing conspiracies. Maybe so, but like a spinning whirlwind in my head, I can't shake the thought that with the death of the rebel slaves, things might not be as they are presented in the official version.
The smartest thing in this situation would be to ignore all these thoughts. Bury them deep down; forget about them. I have a global goal that's more important than any local conflicts and even the death of an earthling. Even the death of someone I've already gotten to know personally. Cristo died, was burned to ashes, and if I start digging into how he really left life, it won't bring him back. It won't bring him back, but it might cause me enormous problems. It might. The thought of shrugging off all my suspicions is actually quite sane. But I can't just pass by without even trying to figure it out. I can't. It goes against my nature. But to dive headfirst into some shady story would not be the most brilliant move in my situation. However, getting involved in a story and understanding it are two different things...
"What are you thinking about, Master?" Aun interrupted the long silence; the boy was finishing preparing dinner. "Do you want more or less sauce?"
"More." I nodded at the boy. "There's logic in your words. And most likely, everything happened just as you said. And I worried and thought who-knows-what for no reason."
"Phew." Aun exhaled with clear relief. "I was already scared that you'd think I was indirectly responsible for the death of your compatriot. But I swear, by Elai..."
"No need, I believe you." Watching as the young man distributes the already prepared dish onto the plates, I change the subject. "As you know, I'm confident in my victory in the Bronze grid of the tournament."
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"And I'm confident in it too, Master!" Aun gladly picks up the new topic.
"But I'm a little worried about the final."
"Really? But you said yourself that you'd defeat the mask from the 'Rising Dragon'."
"Most likely, yes, the victory will be mine. But don't forget, the final will take place under the 'Seal of the Great Tree,' and a lot can go wrong."
"Thank you for the explanation, Master." Aun listens to me attentively.
"Besides, I know very little about the favorite of the Steel grid. About that naval officer, what's his name," I snapped my fingers as if helping myself remember the name, "Laore Tempai. I've seen his fights, of course, but to understand how he'll behave under the 'Seal,' I'd need to know him better."
"Do you want me to gather more information about him?" Aun perked up.
"No. First, you shouldn't be wandering around the city alone right now. And second, I don't need bare information - I need to observe him with my own eyes. See how he behaves in everyday life, not on the arena's sand."
"And that will help you?"
"It will." I nodded. "Sometimes even how a person holds a spoon can tell you something about them."
Whether Aun is just that trusting or if I'm actually a good actor, the boy believed my lie right away.
The idea that something could be understood about a fighter based on how they handle cutlery wasn't a lie on my part. At least Nate and Ronin could indeed draw some conclusions from such a trivial matter. My lie was directly related to the personality of Laore Tempay; the truth was that I was little interested in this man. In fact, I was not planning to learn anything new about him. I needed a reason for my sudden interest in the naval officers of Tries, and this character was quite suitable to serve as such a reason.
Of course, I could have dumped all my suspicions on Aun, but I thought it was unnecessary at this stage. No matter how well I treated the boy, due to his age and upbringing, he might run off to "inflict justice[1]," not understanding the full scope of the matter. I didn't need such mishaps at all because I couldn't leave the city until the end of the tournament. That is, I couldn't run away if things started to heat up because such an escape would lead to the failure of the questers' mission and, consequently, to Erasure.
The thought crossed my mind again that it would be most reasonable not to stick my nose into anything, not to figure anything out, and to finish the tournament peacefully, get the motto, and leave Tries. Cristo is dead, burned, and the truth about the causes of the fire won't bring him back. Earthlings die daily in Ain, including due to the fault of the locals, and I can't change that. If I start to avenge the death of every earthling, first, I will have to forget about my main goal, and second, most likely, I will die very soon because I will stick my nose where it doesn't belong. These reflections were quite reasonable. But, understanding all this, I couldn't close my eyes and walk by without trying to figure it out. If I hadn't personally known Cristo and if he had remained for me just one of the nameless earthlings, like those Ye Lan told about, I could have persuaded myself not to interfere. But fate decided otherwise, and the suspicion that Cristo did not die due to a silly series of accidents but due to someone's intent and for someone's benefit made me grit my teeth.
"I'll wash it." Aun gathered the empty dishes from the table.
I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I didn't notice how I had eaten everything the boy had prepared, and I didn't even taste the food.
"Do you know places where naval officers gather to relax, have a drink?" I asked casually.
"Higher officers prefer to gather at private villas," Aun replied.
"I'm not interested in the higher officers. Laore Tempai is not one of them," I spread my hands.
"Got it!" The boy nodded and seemed to ponder for a moment before continuing. "Actually, there aren't many such places in town. Sailors and junior officers drink all over town; they're concerned with where it's cheaper and stronger today. But as for mid-level officers, I can only recall two taverns where they gather." Aun scratched his chin as if rummaging through his memory. "The 'Quiet Harbor,' we've passed by it several times; it's located on that street that goes from the military port to the city center. They serve good food there, and the prices are such to discourage regular sailors. And the second place is the 'Oars Up[2]' tavern; it's in the northern part of the town, just a couple of blocks away from the wall."
"In the north and so close to the wall?" I was surprised. "That's almost the slums. What are naval officers doing there?"
"Tradition." Aun shrugged. "Somehow it happened... According to city legend, a young officer celebrated his new assignment there, and afterward, his career suddenly took off. Then another one celebrated, and he too started climbing the ranks quickly..." The youth shrugged. "And for over a hundred years, this establishment has been especially popular among naval officers."
"But visiting the slums - isn't that a loss of face?" I asked with some doubt in my voice.
"A hundred years ago, that district was quite prosperous." Aun countered. "And when the situation in the city changed, to stop drinking at your favorite spot just because it got a little dangerous around it - that would be the real loss of face for combat officers. Besides, who in the slums poses a threat to a naval officer?"
After his question, I immediately remembered the priest of Shadow and his henchmen, but I did not argue with the youth. In many ways, Aun is right, mid-level naval officers are at least at the Steel rank, and therefore the inhabitants of the slums do not pose any particular danger to them. On the contrary, a trip and a booze-up in such a place is a demonstration of certain bravado. Perhaps, very rarely, for some of the officers, excessive drinking at 'Oars Up' ends badly, but this is likely only to fuel the interest of the others.
"But!" Imitating me, Aun raised his index finger. "I must say that most naval officers prefer to visit their favorite places. And they go to taverns like the 'Quiet Harbor' and 'Oars Up' only for certain occasions. For example, if someone is celebrating a new assignment or the launching of a new ship. Master, I beg your pardon, but I do not know much about the fleet and its traditions."
"I see." Aun's response was rather satisfactory to me.
"So you want to..." The boy's voice was filled with genuine curiosity.
"Not today." I interrupt. "It's already late. I have another fight tomorrow, and I need to prepare for it and preferably get a good night's sleep."
"Yes, of course." Aun immediately nodded and began to scrub the dishes even more diligently. "Can I join your evening training?"
"You can," I replied tersely and rose from the wicker chair.
Just like yesterday, I decided to start with a few dagger exercises, focusing on the flow of energies. When I finished the first set, Aun had done the dishes and, under my supervision, continued to refine the kata of "All Elements." To my mild surprise, the boy did not repeat his past mistakes. For earthlings, due to the achievement of "Perfect Athlete," such progress was normal, but Aun was definitely not one of us. I could only attribute his success to his having at least Four potential Stars of Talent in short-bladed weapons. Until recently, I thought he had three of these Stars, but the technique the boy demonstrated this evening made me reconsider past conclusions. To check my observations, I showed Aun a new set of exercises. An exercise that outwardly looked even simpler than the kata of "All Elements" but was actually much more complex. On his first attempt, the young man made at least a dozen glaring mistakes. And this is an exercise that takes only a minute to do! If, of course, done correctly. The mistakes showed me that Aun was not familiar with it. By the time we finished training, the boy had managed to get rid of most of the misses and flaws. Clearly, the boy inherited his talents from his grandfather, not his father.
"That's enough for today." Taking my spear into a marching position, I stopped the training.
"I'm not tired yet!" The young man's voice was dry, his knees and hands trembling from overexertion. A few more repetitions, and he would collapse here, not even reaching his bed.
"Seguna is approaching the zenith." I nodded to the sky. "And I would like to get some sleep."
Ignoring Aun's objections, I washed up in the fountain and, with a growl at the boy to go to sleep too, climbed to the second floor and, placing the spear at the head of the bed, collapsed onto it. I lay on my back and yawned so hard that the window trembled slightly. I was extremely sleepy, yet sleep wouldn't come.
The training allowed me to distract myself from my thoughts, but as soon as it was over, despite the slight fatigue and sleepy state, the unfinished reflections attacked me again. The first thought that troubled me was: could it be that the attempts on Aun's life were echoes of the whole situation that unfolded around the former pirate galley? But, comparing the facts, I realized that these two problems were most likely not connected. Because the first attempts on Aun started even before I heard the conversation of the fleet officers. The second thought was that perhaps the young man was right about everything. And his name was used by Cristo or even Duar to order wine in a reliable place. Buy remotely, not fearing that you will be cheated or the price will be jacked up, as for a stranger. And no matter how I twisted this thought, I could not unequivocally refute it. Everything could indeed have been just like that, and what I had imagined was nothing more than my personal fantasies.
However, whether my paranoia was acting up or my suspicions had real grounds - it could be checked. I just needed to find out what fate awaited the "Bloody Wave." If, as should be, the galley is put up for auction again, then I am wrong, and Cristo's death is not the result of someone's cunning game. Also, if the galley is handed over to the city's needs as a coastal or postal ship – the situation is the same. But if the city unexpectedly transfers the "Bloody Wave" to the balance of the military fleet, then... Moreover, if the Tries trade league also voices for this transfer, then what seemed paranoia is not a figment of my imagination. And Cristo, as well as Huran, Duar, the ship's healer, and others, became victims of the ambitions of one specific person. I don't even know the name of this person yet, but I clearly remember what he looks like.
I fell asleep when Seguna had already passed her zenith. And I dreamed of repeatedly driving a blade into the heart of a Tries naval officer. And Cristo was watching each of my movements attentively over my shoulder. A strange dream; I was not planning to kill anyone or take revenge with my own hands in any case. That would be shortsighted and excessively dangerous. But to gather evidence of evil intent and mass murder and then leak this information to Aun, who still believes in justice and fair retribution due to his youth - that, yes, but no more. Despite all my performances at the tournament, I am a stranger in the city, and no one will listen to me. But Aun, despite near bankruptcy, belongs to a respected family, and they will listen to him. At least the city authorities won't be able to simply brush off a case correctly drafted by a respected citizen.
But as soon as this thought formed, I realized its deficiency. Alas, Ain is not a world of white ponies and fairy-tale unicorns, and it is inhabited not by fair-faced elves but by the same people as on Earth. At best, Aun's statement will be considered and quietly hushed up. And in the worst case, Aun will simply be smothered in bed, and it won't be a Bronze assassin with rather mediocre skills who do it, but someone influential and standing at least on the precious ranks of the Spiral. And no blessing from Elai will help Aun to survive. If I want Cristo's death not to go unpunished, I need to come up with some other solution than pushing everything onto the boy. But, as luck would have it, no bright thoughts on this matter visited me that night.
[1] TLN: this is not an error; it sounds the same in the original - "administer justice" + "inflict harm."
[2] TLN: it may not be obvious from the translation, but it's a command given to the rowers when they should stop, which figuratively means "end your work." The literal translation is "dry the oars."