Chapter 8

* * *

To the inexperienced eye, the outer ring of guards served carefully. The five main roads leading into the port were controlled by large groups of thirty men each, housed in lonely buildings that had been turned into small forts. Enough force to withstand the simultaneous onslaught of three or four large gangs or packs of Darkness scum. Sentries, and patrols pulled up if necessary, doubling the number of besieged, then the main Duke's troops came up. Initially, the ruler of the city had about two hundred swordsmen at his disposal, but after successful actions against large gangs and thanks to his outstanding diplomatic talent, he managed to enlist almost eight hundred more men. Eight hundred men with weapons and a willingness to use them. A tremendous force in today's world. And a force active, well-organized, with distinct and clear goals, ready for expansion.

Bypassing the guards, Celesta estimated, was possible. Long observation and questioning brought the desired result. She was able to find several passageways that had been overlooked by the watchers. Somewhere an ordinary person simply could not pass, somewhere there was a mix-up due to unclear delineation of patrol boundaries of different squads, in one place the lazy sergeant badly followed his subordinates. In short, there are holes in the fence. We even managed to find a few convenient hiding places inside the outer perimeter, where we could wait out a day or two. It was not possible to explore the discovered routes for a long time, hunger began to pester, and the ghouls did not dare to hunt the soldiers.

The question is what to do next. Disregarding the usual threats like the sun and the strongest day's sleep, every patrol encountered has the right to check the tag, confirming a person's belonging to the duke's subjects and his right to stay in this particular territory. There are tags and different tags, but they may also want to escort a lonely girl to "home". No, the documents must be as plausible as possible.

The system was somewhat nostalgically reminiscent of the Soviet Union through the eyes of Western filmmakers. Patrols, bans, regulation of movement, mutual surveillance... Of course, control was not total, the bureaucratic apparatus was also unexpectedly small. The authorities kept a close eye on the careful accounting of resources - hence their strange policy. At first, the severity of the local order was striking, but later the strangeness found an explanation. The common man had nowhere to go. Outside the Duke's land, gangs of bandits rule ghouls, creatures of terrible nightmares attack creatures with hot blood. In other cities the situation is much worse, it makes no sense to move into them, and it is dangerous. The choice is simple: either you play by the established rules, or risk your skin. A very great risk. Most people preferred to agree and live in relative peace.

Richard was naturally surprised and upset when Celesta refused to comply with his request. He sincerely believed that the ghouls had no problem killing five or ten warriors, thereby weakening his rival gang. The bandleader tried to hide his emotions, but the change in tone of voice and facial expression failed him. He was still more astonished at the reason for the refusal. The diminutive little ghoul had merely spoken of some urgent business. She snorted merrily, "Don't you think you're the only one we do business with?" She quoted him a price tag: ten dinars for delivery within the city, extra for escorting a man, twenty for gathering information on a particular target. The most expensive work was at the port and the warehouses, but Celeste was willing to visit those places, too, if she had good papers.

Andrew, brought up by generations of earthly politicians, clearly learned: the bigger the lie, the easier it is to believe. So he bluffed without remorse.

As soon as Richard heard that for a relatively small sum the bloodsucker was willing to lead the porters past the posts, he immediately imagined the benefits to be had. Now the bandit leader had either to buy weapons and food at official rip-off prices or share with the officers of the patrols and officials. In both cases, the bandit's coffers remained empty. Attempts to bypass the "customs" did not bring any success: the guards had orders to immediately shoot to kill at the sight of intruders in the border area. And here was a real opportunity to cut costs!

"Can you get my people through?"

"How much and when?" The girl shrugged her shoulders slightly. She rarely moved at all, preferring to remain frighteningly still.

"Well, three, in two days," Richard estimated.

"I'll guide you through the posts or back. Inside the port, it's up to you. Terms - do not argue, follow all orders at once and silently. Ten dinirs. Yes, I'll wrap myself in a cloak and hide my face. You know there's no need to talk about who I am."

Medea stayed at the base. The undead had a peculiar division of labor, which so far suited both of them. Celesta went far from home, keeping an eye on people, getting involved in all sorts of adventures. She slept in odd places and fed on captured rats and cats, trying not to attract the attention of the villagers. In the meantime, she scouted out the nooks where she could wait out a bright day and, if necessary, stay for a long time. Then she was succeeded by Medea, who explored the territory more thoroughly, at the same time looking for various useful things in the basements of stores and other buildings. She set up the temporary dwellings, made them as comfortable as possible, and made sure that there were not too many people in the vicinity.

No matter how hard the girls tried, they could not hide their presence for long. In the end, word spread among the bandits about the brazen ghouls who had gotten very close to the surviving part of the city. Rumors were unsure, though, for the attackers had behaved uncharacteristically and left no corpses behind. Still, they had to change hunting grounds and move to the very border of the explored land, to risk their skin at a time when life was just beginning to get better, friends were not going to. "Moving" was carried out in one night - just packed the most valuable things in a bale, jammed the door to the old house with a bent iron crowbar, and went to a pre-arranged place. Not as comfortable as the old one, but closer to Richard's territory.

Naturally, the bandit was not informed about the unexpected neighborhood.

However, the bandit was more interested in the deal he was about to make, and he did not watch the state of his possessions so closely. Dumping the internal affairs on his assistants, he went to the city and talked with the right people, offering and buying up a shipment of goods at a very favorable price. The exchange was risky and left Richard nearly bankrupt, with barely enough money left over to buy food and fuel for the coming winter. On the other hand, if the operation went well, he could hire two or three more fighters, or buy one craftsman, a slight edge over the neighboring gangs. It seems like a small thing, but it's the little things that make up real power.

Although he really wants to play big, to get everything at once!

Just let the ghoul guide him, show him the way, and then he'd turn around! The dangerous creature would probably have to be killed. The bandit was not going to share his possible income with anyone. Then he could gradually stockpile weapons, to hire a couple of small gangs that prank in the Pit, to nail the neighbors ... What is he worse than Mash? He's no worse than Mash.

Borak, unfortunately, did not accompany his master on this march. A faithful assistant should keep an eye on the squad, there are a couple of overly independent people there. The ones who want to be leaders themselves. Richard took the dumbest and toughest ones with him. They had to carry a lot of goods, obey the chief's commands without question, and not know that a ghoul was leading them. Then again, if Celesta lied or the guards noticed, let the "meat" cover the flight of the commander. Better sacrifice those who do not feel pity.

Now the three were sitting around a small fire, talking quietly to each other, occasionally glancing around. The dilapidated house stood out of sight and was often used for overnight stays by small groups: through narrow windows, the men controlled most of the approaches. They were waiting for a guide. The leader sat a little aside - he wanted to hear the ghoul's approach beforehand. He was angry and frightened by Celesta's ability to move about in total silence, not accustomed to feeling vulnerable. So now the light clatter of pebbles from across the street pleased Richard. Not for long.

"It's just the wind." A familiar voice echoed above his ear, a cold hand preventing him from pulling his weapon from its sheath. "The houses are collapsing because the magic the architects used is gone. The properties of the materials have changed. Are you ready?"

"Yes." Richard waved to his men, rising from his seat and breaking the distance between himself and the predator. "Ready."

"Then go."

Andrew tried not to show nervousness, but with each step, the idea seemed more and more foolish. First of all, he shouldn't have frightened the man. He still hadn't recovered from the brief shock. He walked, shrugging his shoulders. Looking at the leader, the porters warily peered at the figure wrapped in his broad cloak. How much attention the extra attention would lead to, no one could say. They'd better watch their step because they stumbled and made noise and fell. Of course, when planning her route, the ghoul was mindful of human blindness, but she still hoped for more inconspicuousness. You can't help feeling like a kindergarten teacher on a walk with a brood of clumsy children. You'd have to cut a few corners to get the squad through before dawn, and you didn't want to do that - what if the guards had changed their habits and changed the location of their patrols?

They are so blind...

The clinking of weapons and the ghastly quality of the armor was irritating, not to mention the stench of unwashed body odor emanating from her companions. The ghoul herself wore short daggers in carefully fitted scabbards and made no sound. Long weapons require good handling skills unlike short ones, so the girls armed themselves with what they could use in combat. Besides, traveling through sewer corridors and narrow manholes with spears is uncomfortable; it's better to take something small with you.

Correcting and supporting people at almost every step, Celesta stubbornly made her way through the back alleys. The city, which had become a dump, offered the knowing creature many opportunities to pass unnoticed, but it also obstructed, blocked the way. A building had collapsed at one point, blocking the narrow street, though it had looked sturdy a few nights before. The ghoul would have easily slipped over the stones and wobbly planks; now she had to leave her companions behind and look for a way around. Such delays were unnerving and made me listen more and more often to my senses, my eyes habitually searching for possible shelter.

I didn't feel sleepy yet, and there was no sign of impending dawn, but if they continued to waddle like that, then... then what? There were a lot of options, and they were all rather unpleasant. The plan had originally been that they would enter the port at night, sleep during the day, collect their goods, and then, at nightfall, Celesta would lead them back out. This plan kept the bloodthirsty demon at bay and prevented her from attacking her companions, especially if she could get a rat or a stray dog. Now she might have to hunt in earnest.

After weighing the pros and cons, the guide resigned herself to her fate. There was nothing to be done, it was necessary to take a risk and go down underground. This part of the route is not convenient from the point of view of safety: at the end of the road passes through a long and narrow corridor, as in a pipe. For about thirty meters the whole group will be visible, and a single crossbow bolt will pierce two or even three people at once. In the end, there is a wide area, fenced off by bars, which is convenient for shooting. All right, check my luck.

The sight of the rusty hatch did not inspire enthusiasm. The bandits were sympathetic to the ban on fire, but it was too dangerous to go underground without light. Mutants, wild beasts, and crazy hermits often took up residence in holes like this, ready to bleed out their congeners who disturbed their refuge. Richard brought to order by slapping the most talkative one in the face:

"Shut up, shit. The guide's been here before, okay?! There's nobody there, got it?"

"There's something," Celesta saw fit to clarify. They'll be less frightened when they see it, so they'll know it. "There's a grass catcher at the entrance, with broad leaves. Don't mind it, it's small and doesn't attack people. In a pinch, yank your foot harder and the grass will unhook itself."

The big men continued to shuffle from foot to foot, and so the woman was the first to go down. In principle, since the Neolithic Age, the first to enter an unfamiliar cave was a woman, and in this case, we can see a peculiar continuity of generations. The woman was the first to enter the cave, and in this case, we can see a kind of generational continuity.

The warning, predictably, did not help. The first porter to descend the creaking, rusty ladder felt a soft touch on his leg and became frightened. He yelled and began to shake his legs in a convulsive attempt to shake off the encircling vine, all the while clutching at the lintel and restraining his anxious helpers. The screams echoed through the underground catacombs, and Celeste couldn't even begin to imagine what was going on upstairs. Jumping up to the distraught porter, she struck him briefly and precisely at the base of the neck. The scream fell silent. There was silence, interrupted only by the hoarse breathing of the men and the anxious whispers coming from above: "Meat? Meat, are you okay?"

"He should have been given another nickname," the girl said venomously. "Brainless, or Idiot would have been better. Richard, give me some light."

"But guards..."

"They heard us already. Let's run now, but let's deal with this... body."

The leader jumped down, setting an example for the others. In the light of the small light, you could see the grass slowly braiding around the motionless porter. As the men cautiously descended the ladder, Celesta cut the thickest stalks and then easily plucked its prey from the predatory plant's grasp. The trap-weed, Medea said, had been around for a long time, almost in the gray days of Taleya's founding. Some mage-experimenter had invented it. It successfully hunted small animals and insects, served as an excellent home guard against rodents, and posed almost no danger to humans. Except when a person was dead drunk or seriously injured, and the weed grew a lot. The catastrophe that had shattered the former world had only benefited the grass. Now there was no one to watch its growth, so it multiplied freely, sometimes turning into real thickets. So the man's fright was somewhat justified and understandable.

Although, as the saying goes, "To understand does not mean to forgive". If Richard killed a cowardly fighter on the spot, he'd be right. The brat had endangered the whole squad. Leaving the leader to deal with the revived bandit, Celesta stepped to the surface and listened intently. No one seemed to be in the vicinity. Good news - she thought all the neighborhood patrols would be rushing to see who was screaming. Lucky for her. The deep well where the action was taking place had muffled most of the sound, and the rest had been shot skyward or extinguished in the winding labyrinths of the sewers. However, not even a ghoul's keen hearing could pick up the quiet footsteps of an experienced tracker, or just the too distant tapping of the ammunition of the fleeing soldiers. She could only hope that no one heard them, and try to get through the dangerous stretch of road more quickly. As she had planned earlier.

Thankfully, now I don't have to drive people around.

In the meantime, Richard scratched his fists against the muzzle of the offender - the latter did not dare to shield himself from blows - and calmed down enough to worry about further plans. His gut told him to run, too.

"Celesta, what is there?" For the first time, he called the guide by her name.

She jumped down easily, glanced at the battered porter, and was glad to see that her face was covered by a mask. The smell of blood in the cramped space awakened her instincts-despite her recent successful hunt, she wanted more. And more. To gulp down the spicy, brackish liquid and shiver with pleasure. She bared her fangs in a half-mad grin, and the ghoul had to tilt her head to keep the reddish glow out of her pupils. She took a few steps deep into the corridor and stopped there. Away from the source of the smell.

In a certain way, it is an achievement. If she had been in a similar situation immediately after her uprisings, she probably would have given herself away.

"We must go, and soon. Light a torch; it won't hurt." The guide retreated deeper into the darkness. "Hurry up. We do not have much time."

"Hurry up, you sons of bitches!" Richard roared at his subordinates. "You heard her, let's go!"

A piece of rag soaked in combustible liquid provided enough light, but people still stumbled and fell. Though no one complained, Celesta's pace was too hard to maintain for long. The girl deliberately ran a little ahead, wanting to be the first at the dangerous part of the road and get a good look at a possible place of ambush. While Richard and the porters were resting, she would go quietly into the corridor, hidden by shadows, and at the same time avoid unnecessary attention from the wingmen. But the difference between the husky, haggard breathing of mortals and the steady walk of the conductor would be a source of bewilderment. The bandits would be silent now, frightened by the ringleader's wrath, but the whispers would come later. Completely unnecessary whispers.

She was not afraid to get lost. First of all, this section of the sewer had a very specific layout that made it easy to navigate, and secondly, the sagging ground blocked most of the passages. And, by the way, no one canceled the danger of falling into a new cave-in, thus increasing Celeste's desire to get out of the ground as quickly as possible. In some places she left signs to ease the way and serve as additional clues, so she confidently led the people forward.

She had a hunch that the weary porters were about to collapse to the floor from fatigue, and the ghoul stopped running. She surmised that two-thirds of the subterranean road had been cleared. It remained to scout out one suspicious spot, successfully make it to the surface, and lead the men another five hundred meters, then the obligations could be considered fulfilled. Now she would not dare go far into the depths of the port: she knew too little about the routes of the interior patrols. While the bandits were recovering under the keen guidance of Richard, who continued to curse in a whisper, Celesta quietly moved forward along the corridor. The ringleader, by the way, was holding up well, much better than his subordinates. He wasn't lying on the ground, greedily groping for air, but listening intently for the occasional sound that came from the darkness.

There were no guards in the narrow straight corridor, nor the area beyond it, but some uneasy feeling prevented me from going back and dragging the small caravan behind me. Intuition strongly advised to take a closer look, and during the time spent in the new body, Andrew/Selesta learned to trust the voice of the subconscious. Squatting down in front of the staples hammered into the wall that served as stairs, the risen froze motionless, absorbing the details she saw. Dirt and dust fell from above, no boot prints, the hatch covers over the opening still clamped tightly to the rim, the metal of the stairs gleaming in places in the starlight piercing through the tiny holes. Stop. Shiny? There was no glitter last time. She looked closer. It looked as if someone had gone down the drain and used their boots to scrape the rust off the brackets, and it was very recent. Damn, was there an ambush upstairs?

Celesta snakily climbed to the top and pressed her ear to the hatch. A human could hardly hear anything useful, the soundproofing was not yet completely frayed, but to the ghoul, the quiet noises formed a complete picture of the world. Living like a hunted beast, hiding daily, one unwillingly acquires some useful skills. You will get stinginess and smoothness of movements, saving energy, your hearing will begin to select the threatening notes in the incoming continuous background, your eyes will adapt to pick out unnatural pieces from the surrounding landscape... It turns out that human breathing is very loud, and it is quite easy to hear it if you want to. It is only necessary to press closer to the cast-iron surface, to disconnect from all extraneous things, to concentrate, to cut off unnecessary things, to turn into a single sensitive ear. To put thoughts out of my head, leaving only my instincts, to tell myself for sure that no, there is nothing upstairs right now. Except for the smell of smoke.

After a bit of hesitation, the girl opened the hatch and cautiously poked her head out. There was no one. Judging by the tracks, the guards were sitting here and had been sitting there recently, the ash from the tiny fire still warm. Not badly settled, they rested without fear. On the other hand, why not build a fire? The fireplace was hidden between two dilapidated walls, with little wood (partly because the wood was prized in the city), and they stayed within their territory, behind the outer patrol line. Maybe they cooked a meal, too - there were marks on the bricks from the kettle. It is a good place, cozy, you can spend the whole night. One drawback - the surroundings are poorly visible, it is impossible to control the approach. The guards can not be seen, but they can not see the intruders. A normal commander would not linger here longer than necessary and will check the situation, give people a little rest, and lead the group on. That's probably why no one is near the exit right now.

Or they did hear the wild shout made by the porter. It's ironic if two groups of people got tangled up because one was walking on the ground and the other was walking underneath it.

When she returned, Celesta looked around at the rested bandits and reassured the leader, who had been disturbed by her long absence: "The guards are gone, we won't have to wait. But we'll go back another way, this route is now spoiled."

"Darkness!" The man ran his hands through his hair irritably. "Can we get there safely now?"

"Yeah, we'll just meet at a different place tomorrow."

After explaining where and how the novice smugglers would be able to find her, the guide led the men out into the fresh air. The rest of the way was easy, so Celeste, having said goodbye, hurried back to the sewers with a clear conscience. It would be dawn soon, and she had to catch some prey - at least a couple of rats, or she might snap and pounce on her companions tomorrow. There's also a small window of time left for the hunt in case of surprises the next night, too. The demon inside should be appeased. Thank goodness there's no need to look for a lair. A smile ran across the masked face - if only people knew! That bush of catcher grass she had personally fetched and planted on her first visit, diligently watered and fed with the calf of a drunken cat. Now the plant, which did not regard the undead as prey, ignoring them, concealed with its broad leaves the passage to the small chamber.

That's where she'll spend the day.

The way back was briefly memorable. The blood of the ubiquitous rats was of little use. A dozen of them had about the same effect as trying to put out a fire with a liter of water. The ghoul craved a different kind of food - the kind that flows in human veins - and was tormented by the sensation of panting at the back of a coveted but inaccessible prey. She'd been without food for three nights before, but this was the first time she'd been near a source of blood. It was hard to restrain herself. Her thoughts were confused, and she had to keep reminding herself of the inviolability of her companions.

With each step, the demon within grew more powerful, and it became harder and harder to fight it. The occasional frenzy forced her to break away from the main squad and walk ahead - the smell of prey was weaker there, the hunger somehow managed to be suppressed. The men sensed something, though, all the same. The bearers unconsciously shunned the guide, Richard periodically grasped the hilt of his sword, at such moments he reeked of fear and menace. However, whatever he was thinking or plotting, he dared not do anything. Either he remembered what kind of monster he was walking next to, or his gut told him to.

Maybe the scarlet gleam in the guide's pupils convinced the man not to do anything foolish.

In short, everyone breathed a sigh of relief when Celesta received the agreed fee and hurriedly left. She, first of all. Her thirst became so strong that she almost pounced on the bandit, stopping at the last moment. The memory of Medea waiting nearby, who had to catch some prey with hot blood for her return, helped. Before she knew it, the ghoul had switched to running, completely oblivious to the houses whizzing by. Soon, soon enough, she would be able to satisfy her hunger. If only her friend had failed her down... A muffled growl erupted from her throat. No! Medea would do the right thing - she knew the agony Celesta was going through.

The small ghoul had never felt happier than when she noticed the tall, graceful figure, frozen in the shadow of the house, and the long bundle lying at her feet. The man smelled sweet of living blood. Celesta leaped up to her coveted prey, hastily tearing at the garment with her claws and snuggling with a satisfied purr against the filthy neck of her victim. Food at last! The next few minutes fell from her memory. When her eyes cleared and a pleasant, satiated languor settled over her body, the calm and rational part of her personality took over and forced her to tear herself away from her prey. No matter how great the disappointment, no more could be taken. A few more sips wouldn't do much good, and it could be fatal for the donor.

"Who is this?"

"Just a bandit." Medea sat down next to me, looking at my face with caring eyes. "He'll have to be killed anyway, so drink as much as you want. How'd it go?"

"Worse than expected, and better than it could have been. I became thirsty."

Both knew it wasn't about plain water. The short account of the crossings she had made suddenly turned into a saga filled with tension and danger. Only now did they fully understand the risk they had taken in offering Richard's cooperation. One could not help but wonder how to proceed. To abandon the original plans was to betray everything they had sought in their post-life, but could there be a way to lessen the difficulties?

"So you don't hunt beforehand, but on the night of the crossing?" Medea interrogated. "It's too risky."

"Yes, I understand. We'll think it over. Maybe you'll lead the squad there and I'll lead it back, or we'll set a schedule with possible hunting in mind."

"So there will be a next time for sure?" tensely asked the beauty. "Was Richard satisfied? He wouldn't try to act on his own? After all, now he thinks he knows the route."

Celesta looked at her worried friend and grinned: "He didn't know the route. The darkness, the stone maze of ruined houses, the underground passages, the guards' tracks... If he had any wrong thoughts about "ditching the bloodsuckers," they're gone now."

"Not for long, I think. The alliance with the Darkness poses too many dangers, after all, and a reasonable person would try to stay away from us."

"In general, it's true," admitted the younger one. "As soon as he doesn't need us anymore, Richard will betray us."

Medea lay on the ground with a sigh, clasping her hands behind her head.

"You see. Ghouls can never live together with humans."

"It all depends on the habit. You don't hurry to get rid of the common evil - for fear that something worse will take its place," said Andrew philosophically. "By the way, in my world, there are stories about creatures called vampires. Very much like you and me. They also drink blood, sleep in graves during the day, but they prefer to hunt relatives, and a man bitten by them becomes a vampire himself."

"Didn't you say you have no magic?"

"There is no magic, but people have the fantasy. I don't know where the legends of the living dead come from! That's not what I want to talk about. Originally vampires were unpleasant and repulsive creatures, at least in the ancient legends they are described in the darkest colors. Then a writer created an image of the "suffering vampire," ennobled it, and composed a sob story about eternal love, and in a hundred years, society's attitude to the children of the Night changed. Books began to be written about them, movies began to be made, and, mind you! - The Undead began to be seen as positive heroes. Not always, of course, but in general, a vampire is not unequivocally a bad character. You can come to terms with it, coexist with it."

"Tell me they live in palaces," skeptically snorted Medea, interested in the story.

"In palaces, estates, apartments. The main thing is that they're around people. Don't laugh, I had a neighbor who read novels and seriously believed in them, went to cemeteries, and dreamed of sticking her neck out for a bite. Until she was almost raped.

"Celesta, there is a difference between a book character and a real creature. If I ask Richard to share his blood, he'll flick my head off, just like any other inhabitant of Taleya."

"I'm just saying that we have a benchmark to strive for. All right, that's enough. Let's go home, the sun will be up soon."

Where law arises, lawlessness inevitably appears. The old man Lao Tzu never heard of in this world, would have been convinced of the correctness of his teachings by a glimpse of the bustling activity in the port. Despite the strictest control and accounting, the constant inspections, and the system of snitching, the market for forbidden pleasures continued to exist and grow with success. Not without the connivance of the authorities, who understood people's need to release their accumulated tension from time to time.

Apart from officials and officers, sailors were considered the richest. It's only natural if you think about it. If one pressed the crew a little harder, one could lose not just the ship and all the catch, but the very source of valuable food. Moreover, yesterday's peaceful fisherman could easily turn into a dangerous pirate, whose raids affected the coast. Therefore, combining carrot and stick methods, the port masters allowed the crews to spend their earnings in organized taverns.

Officially, it cost a pretty penny to open a drinking place, and few patents were issued, but there were many semi-legal ones, ranging from small liquor stores to real brothels. The guards rarely interfered with their activities, receiving a weekly bribe for "keeping their eyes closed. Here they offered ways to satisfy any vice, for money the owners fulfilled any desire. The whip was a system of hidden hostage - the families of fishermen and traders (two ships sailed to a neighboring archipelago) were under constant surveillance. Richard argued that because of the latter circumstance, there had been no attempts to escape from Taleta by sea for a long time.

But where there are the rich, there are inevitably the poor. There was another category of people in the port that the ghouls saw as a future food source. Drunkards, brawlers, and petty thieves alone were dangerous to quench their thirst. Incidentally, almost all the criminal element was covered up by officials who could be seriously concerned about the deaths of their "wards" and organize an investigation. It is much easier to hunt among the disenfranchised inhabitants of the urban bottom.

Ordinary people who worked in rubble removal, as laborers on farms, or as a source of labor for the villages being built were eager to take up any occupation that could yield a profit. This caste was originally formed by refugees who had no roots in the city and were unfamiliar with the new authorities. People simply wanted to flee from the mutants that had appeared in the villages and towns, and instinctively sought out the largest power center on the coast, which was Thalia. Some were lucky enough to secure a warm position in the guards or join one of the gangs on the outskirts, but the rest were living a rather miserable existence.

Initially, the flow of refugees was very large, as was the number of victims, but over time the growth of the Duke's subjects slowed down. For a variety of reasons - the roads became much more dangerous, people adapted, learned to survive in difficult conditions, the guards turned away some of the refugees. They only let through craftsmen who could be of real use, or whole families with children, who could easily be moved to the right place and occupied with useful work. The rest were considered useless and detained at the posts. The last category was used to form marauders, small outskirt gangs, and they joined larger groups or became hunters of the undead.

Also highly valued were young women capable of giving birth, who were always allowed to pass. Their fate developed differently - sometimes successfully, sometimes not so much. Being sold as a concubine to an officer or an official was not considered the worst fate, even parents traded their grown daughters. Both sides considered the deal profitable - the man received status, a mistress in the house, and the opportunity to start a family, while the seller received from ten to fifty dinars, depending on the personal qualities of the goods.

Celesta was the one to consolidate her knowledge into a coherent picture of port life. Medea preferred to deal with the arrangements of everyday life and the surveillance of the patrols. Why the port? The warehouses were better guarded, there were fewer people around, and only a madman would dare venture into the palace. The analyst's work was unexpectedly difficult and labor-intensive because every grain of information had to be checked against what was already there. Sources of information - overheard conversations, interrogations of people caught, Richard's stories - were also quite fragmented and did not give unambiguous answers to the questions that interested the ghouls. As a matter of fact, the girls wanted a lot: to live among people, not depending on them as much as possible. In comfort, warmth, comfort. Andrew would study sacred texts and search for surviving mages, Medea dreamed of simple companionship. To fulfill this tiny wish, which until recently had seemed the unattainable delirium of a madman, it was necessary to acquire merely nothing: a hidden shelter, a source of constant income, and a network of informants, which the money was intended for.

The shelter was not yet in the forecasts. To find a suitable burrow, one had to sneak into the port and make a long, thoughtful exploration of the area, using temporary hiding places. In other words, a waste of time and nerve (or its equivalent).

A source of constant income... Robbing victims don't count. This means there's a willing collaborator, Richard, already aiming for a second crossing of the posts, and a couple of names of unscrupulous people obtained at random. That's it. Richard is pointless to trust, he can only be used. So rely on the robber's help in finding a permanent home was not worth it. He'd turn him in the first chance he got. With the rest of the "sharks shady business" still had to meet, stay alive, to convince them of their usefulness and sanity, to offer favorable terms of cooperation ... Depressing need to hunt consumed much time and energy - if not for the frequent search for prey, to establish contacts with useful people could have long ago. Alas, the ghouls understood clearly: it was useless to try to fight their nature.

Sometimes it seemed to Andrei that all his actions were programmed. That he was trapped in the information corridor and could not act freely. Each decision had a limited number of options for development, stemming from one another. It was as if he was being led like a rat in a maze, it was not clear only what was waiting at the end: a piece of cookie or a mousetrap. Even the appearance of the bandit leader fit into a certain scheme because sooner or later he would have to look for an agent himself. So wouldn't it be better to combine two tasks at once? Get a job in the city and look for an opportunity to make money at the same time.

Yes, it will be very hard at first. She would have to go alone, but Medea would stay behind and serve as insurance in case Celesta came back in an exhausted state. Let her gather rumors, charm Richard, explore the dungeons and check every night in certain places for messages from her friend. It's calmer that way. Belle is too carried away, even postmortem has not made her submit her senses to the commands of her mind. It's strange to say this about the undead, but Medea has a finer and fuller sense of life than many of the living. Now her gustiness, her impulsiveness, will hinder her.

It meant going alone, sleeping in sewer closets or crammed cellars, eating rats, cats, and starving poor people, carefully hiding the traces of her meals. To hide from guards and common people, to verify each step. To react to every rustle, to notice the tiniest trace, to consider anything that might be of use. The usual business, only more thorough.

Such a wonderful perspective.

* * *