Chapter 18

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The bundle of dinir handed by Medea looked moderately thick. Exactly what Celesta had expected to get from her first trip. She was much more interested in her friend's account of Carlon's death and in the books the looters had brought with them.

"Karwa went to the nearest army camp after the excavation and asked about the monastery. The soldiers still avoided it, even though it was almost completely burned down. They consider it a cursed place." Medea thoughtfully pored over the knives on the table. Her weapon of choice was a fine pair of stiletto knives or a short, throwing blade on a simple hilt. "They say Carlon managed to put down nearly two dozen guards before he died."

"They must be lying."

"Maybe. But there is a strong smell of blood in the temple."

"Did the library burn down?"

"Yes, all of it, along with the secret vault. I don't know how they found it. Everything I brought with me was taken out of our hiding place."

Sitting in the corner, next to the books on the floor, Hustin looked up: "Is that all, or is there more left?"

"We didn't haul a tenth of it. Your uncle promised to get a wagon later and bring the rest of what Celesta and I had stashed away in one go. Where shall we set up storage?"

"In the lab," Celesta replied. "There's a cubicle over there, and we'll clean it up, put some shelves in it, put a door on it. It'll fit right in. Did Karwa say when they'd go again?"

Soon. There was an unexpectedly large amount of loot: the northerners were even dumbfounded by the sight of the loot. I don't think they'll rest until they're all gone. I showed them the hiding places - they're going to clear them one by one. We agreed that they would roughly assess the goods on the spot, give us our share, and pay us the final price after we sell them.

"So it went well," concluded the leader.

"It's even amazing."

Celesta nodded, looked thoughtfully at Hustin, who was fully immersed in the study of a puffy volume with the toothy title "Features of differential calculus of force flows as applied to the construction of third-order spells. Then she began to pour out her news, bad news: "The old network is completely compromised. Absolutely all of the old agents should be considered compromised until proven otherwise. We'll have to start recruiting new ones immediately, so you've got a good deal on the money."

"So we're starting all over again?"

"Yes," the little ghoul grimaced, "considering the mistakes we've made. We'll start tomorrow. I've made a rough list of people to work with, four names so far. Look through the records and see who you can cross off, who you can look at more closely. In the second half of the night, we can go and see them for ourselves."

"Why not right after waking up?"

"Richard left a note asking to meet."

Communication with the former bandit leader was carried out through caches, where he left papers with the appointment of the place and time of the meeting. It wasn't the best system, but Celesta wasn't going to give Richard Fakasius's address, much less Varek's. The officer hadn't been in town for a long time, so his desire to talk seemed natural - apparently, he wanted to offer something. There was a lull on the front if you could call that the rapidly expanding ring of government troops, and many of the guards had been given leave to arrange their personal affairs. I wonder what adventure the former bandit is up to?

"I'd rather go with you," Medea said. "I'll go over the papers today, and it never hurts for a girl from a decent family to see a handsome officer. Hгstin's folks almost drove me to suicide with their manners."

"They talk as they are able to," said the boy speaking up for his own people. "We are simple people, not trained in politeness. But if we don't like someone, we tell him right away, not like your noblemen: if he smiles in the face, he spits on the back."

"Don't you dare speak badly of the descendants of the gods!"

"I'm descended from Zvet the Hunter myself!"

"Okay." The disputants were momentarily silent as if crushed by Celesta's brief word. "I'm afraid to leave you alone, so, Medea, come with me. Hustin, start setting up the library. And one more thing. We have access to the city archives: at one time we bribed the curator. See if there's anything in there we could use, like books on a certain subject or tools."

"It's not just papers that are kept in the archives?" Medea wondered.

"Yes, they recently created a department for all sorts of technologies. Objects and their description, which cannot be created now, but which may come in handy in the future. A very far-sighted decision, which almost caused a riot among the townspeople. The Duke's descendants will not have to reinvent anything - it will be enough to send a request to the repository."

Richard was usually the first to arrive. Today Celesta felt a kind of vague uneasiness: both her partner's tardiness and a large number of armed men in the vicinity alarmed her. Though the soldiers had been moved to the new barracks two blocks away, their presence unnerved the ghoul. Nor was she at ease with an inspection of the sewers, scheduled for this summer, but now underway for some reason. Finally, on instinct, she ordered her friend to climb to the roof of the house and look around to see if there were too many men roaming the neighboring streets. Celesta herself lurked in the back of the room, motionless in the shadows, absorbing the sounds through the broken window.

The crunch of pebbles under the boots of the four men was a confirmation of her fears. She heard Richard's voice from a distance, and now she was thinking feverishly about how to proceed. Medea jumped down from above: "There are two archers on the roof of the neighboring house, and there are men standing down the street. They are dressed in the uniform of the Guardsmen."

"Damn!"

Worst case scenario. The Duke's Guards were considered an elite unit: escaping from them would be difficult. Medea nodded grimly: "Some of the sewer manholes are blocked - it looks like they're waiting for us in the underground too. What are we going to do?"

Celesta didn't have time to answer. Richard's voice rang out from below, shouting with fake amusement: "Lady Celesta! I've brought some friends to see you, and they really want to talk to you!"

"We'll have to leave by the rooftops," Celesta decided. "That's not what they expect. Stand behind the breach in the wall - if a fight breaks out, don't engage in close combat."

"You don't want to run right away?!"

"We have no choice. I feel they've put us in a tight spot, so we should at least try to solve the case peacefully."

Medea slipped out of the room, leaving Celesta alone. She hurriedly turned the table around, put it between herself and the door, and moved the chair away from the window. Now the people who entered the room would be at a disadvantage - to reach her they would have to go around or jump over a small but insignificant obstacle. An extra moment that would allow the ghoul to escape. She prepared a small "lady's" crossbow and called out: "I'm right here. If I see a drawn weapon, I shoot immediately."

The door creaked open, and Richard was the first to enter, his empty hands out in front of him: "There's no need to worry, lady. They just want to talk to you."

The guardsman slipped in after him, in an unmistakable way. His slow, soft movements made Celesta cringe; this fighter, with his indifferent gaze, was head and shoulders above any she'd ever encountered before. If a fight broke out, there was no point in trying to kill him. Only to flee. The man did not draw his weapon, merely placed it on his hilt, but Ghoul had no illusions of safety. She knew the master swordsman could draw his blade, strike, and return it to its sheath in a heartbeat. They must have sent their best to meet her.

The aristocrat was the second to enter. Dressed in simple, minimal ornamentation, though made of very expensive material, the man exuded the scent of power and superiority. Remarkable self-control. If from the other men came the smell of tension, anxiety, and - from Richard - fear, the nobleman felt absolute self-confidence and even a certain relaxation. His face, adorned with a short beard, expressed benevolence, though his eyes looked too sharp. For herself Celesta identified him as the most dangerous of the entrants: it is he who gives the orders to the others. So she aimed the crossbow at him.

The last guardsman, who looked like a copy of the first, carefully closed the door behind him. There was a suspicious silence in the room. Celeste imagined what they were seeing: a short woman, almost a girl, with short blond hair tied into a knot and regular features. Not beautiful, but pretty, definitely of noble birth - you can see some sort of breed in her. As long as she is in control, no fangs are visible, no reddish light is reflected in her eyes, and her milky white skin seems to be the usual sign of a noblewoman. Except that her clothes are a bit off, obviously off someone else's shoulder. A dark dress with slits down the sides revealed leather men's pants and sturdy boots, more suited to a child. A pair of long knives dangling from her belt, and a few shorter ones were on her chest strap.

Finding the right size shoe was the most difficult task Celesta had ever faced.

The pause dragged on, and Richard became more and more nervous. Of all those present, only the aristocrat and the girl remained cool - the others were preparing for a fight. No, fighting was not part of the ghoul's plan. Celesta raised an eyebrow slightly: "You're into cheap tricks, aren't you, Lord? Whoever talks first loses?"

"Not at all, lady," the man smiled slightly. After some hesitation, he pulled back the second and last chair in the room and sat directly across from the undead. The guardsmen stood behind him. "I'm just confused. It's funny to look for a meeting for so long and not know how to start a conversation."

"You could start by introducing yourself. You know my name."

"I beg your pardon. My name is Irkuban Tarkavel, Baron Kardeh"

"I am flattered." The crossbow in the ghoul's hand didn't flinch. "The Head of Security of His Most Serene Majesty, Lord Taleya Dinir the Second, and may his days be long, has taken an interest in me. I thought you had more important things to do than look for a few rebels. Especially lately."

"What could be more important!" The smile slipped off the Baron's face. "In the city, which we thought to be completely under control, studied up and down, suddenly announced a successfully operating network. And with unknown objectives, goals, and opportunities."

"Is that the ritual you're talking about?"

"Among other things. Imagine my surprise when the agents reported that ghouls were suspected in the organization of the biggest actions of the last three months, and they even provided evidence!"

"The Risen. Or vampires. Don't put us on the same level as that monster."

"I'll keep that in mind. In short, Lady Celesta, I have taken a great interest in the matter. You have been the breath of fresh air that has pulled me out of the dull mire of palace intrigue, the ambitions of petty nobles or their more learned patrons, the plans of high officers, and the habitual embezzlement of officials. In addition, my noble lord has expressed, shall we say, some concern about the rite of summoning the Dark One to his land. Can you tell me why you would take such a risk?"

The ghoul stared at the man without blinking. To answer him was to compromise - just a little, but to comply. Trouble was, they both knew whose side had the power now. So far, the man was willing to give out information, willing to make contact, but he shouldn't be angry.

"Accident. No one wanted to summon a demon. Our human servants took an overly responsible approach to organize the ritual."

"The eternal problem with performers," the man nodded understandingly. "It's hard to find a good assistant. But serious cases should be trusted only to the best..."

"I'm a little limited on the staff issue."

"Yes. I have a lot more options."

There was silence in the room again. Baron's last words sounded an unpleasant hint, not too covert threat, and at the same time a proposal for a serious conversation. The interlocutors had sufficiently looked at each other and considered the foreplay over.

"You won't leave us alone." Celesta didn't ask, she stated the fact.

"Naturally. Even if you weren't... risen, right? Well, even so, we must suppress illegal activities. Or to control it when it can't be stopped. Though some have suggested you be sentenced for your mere existence, it cost me some effort to persuade my lord to consent to this conversation."

"Why such an honor?"

"A personnel matter," Kardeh smiled dryly. "You seemed reasonable to me, and releasing my man reinforced that opinion. Besides, I can't help but admire a woman who can keep the Holiness in check!"

If Celesta had stayed alive, she would have done something stupid. She would have pulled the trigger, jumped up, leaped to the breach, and tried to run... The undead expresses their emotions differently. The baron involuntarily recoiled when the girl's face in front of him instantly turned into a chalk mask with bloodshot eyes and fangs in her mouth. But he threw up his hand almost immediately, stopping the guards.

The blow was strong. The ghoul could not have guessed that the spiders were aware of all her dealings. It didn't really matter how they knew about Fakasius, what he'd told his patrons. Most likely, he was pinned down and spilled everything from the moment he met her to Varek. That leaves Tarrasch as the only possible ally. But is he safe?

"Do me a favor, Lord Kardeh. Enlighten me, how did your service get in touch with Richard? We have had no contact with him lately."

"Mr. Richard made the mistake of killing his immediate commander," the man answered immediately. He looked at the traitor with mild contempt. "We quickly identified the culprit. In exchange for forgiveness, he promised to share useful information, and, as you can see, he kept his promise."

So, Richard bought his freedom. She was right not to trust him: he always remained a cynical bastard. Good. A former bandit, a former officer, and a partner are in the past, now we need to think about the future. What does the chief of security want? He must have appreciated the undead's ability to infiltrate protected premises, to survive, to find the right people. Well, he has enough experts in the search for information as it is - he intends a different fate for the undead. Most likely, the executors of the death penalty. After all, it is much more convenient to kill someone who disturbs the duke by blaming the murder on the ghouls, and then organize a showdown and maybe even find someone. They would keep them on a short leash, tightly controlling every action, occasionally throwing in handouts in the form of a small piece of freedom.

If they flatly refuse to cooperate - to be more precise, voluntary slavery - they will not be allowed to live. They will be killed. In the best-case scenario, they will have to hide in the sewers, occasionally venturing out to hunt, leaving behind the hope of a peaceful existence. Periodic raids, gradual degradation, and an eternal sense of hunger would become an everyday occurrence. An unpleasant prospect.

We can bargain, can't we? The Baron persuaded his overbearing lord not to destroy them outright, so he has some plans with them. He made a bet in the game and will not want to just give it up. Just to hold on, not to appear too brazen, to convince that people will be able to control her.

"I have a rough idea of the choices you intend to offer me," Celeste said. Kardeh nodded. They understood each other perfectly. "And I am ready to say yes. But I have a few conditions."

"It's not in your position," the man replied softly, "to make conditions."

The girl grinned dryly, glinting her fang tips.

"The beauty of my situation is that it can't get any worse. Accepting means constant risk and danger, refusing would lead to a rather unpleasant life, too." The Baron smiled and tried to speak, but Celesta interrupted him. "I know the house is surrounded. However, you have placed too few archers on the rooftops, I have a good chance of escaping."

The man shrugged philosophically and made a slight sign with his hand, suggesting continuation. If the ghoul escaped today, he would find her later. But then there would be no negotiating: the guardsmen would simply kill the living dead.

"So, what I ask. First, we will live separately. Naturally, you will be made aware of the location of our house, but I ask you to limit the circle of knowledge. This is to your advantage because it will allow us to hide our connection and give us peace of mind. The undead in the daytime is defenseless."

"I have some other information."

"Your information is not entirely accurate. The late Carlon was an initiated priest of Morvan, and his abilities are beyond our comprehension. We're talking about the incident at the monastery, aren't we?" The cautious Baron nodded as he seemed eager to know more. He would have to pay for them. "A separate residence, then, not a cage. We accept the rules of the game, so don't force us to break them."

Kardeh thought for a while and nodded: "I think we can discuss this request. We'll discuss the specifics later. What's next?"

"We must meet with the wizards. The best wizards of the castle."

"What for?"

"Just wanting to know more about myself," Celesta shrugged slightly. "Why do people rise from the dead, why do they drink blood? Who better to ask than wizards?"

"Good. They themselves expressed a desire to meet the organizers of that crazy ritual, so your interest is mutual. Is that it?"

"Almost." The ghoul put her crossbow on the table without hesitation, showing her peaceful intentions. "What do you intend to do now?"

The head of the spiders leaned back in his rickety chair and looked at his interlocutor with an appraising look: "In principle, I'm ready to rely on your discretion and offer to meet later. Do you know where the Security Department is located?" Celesta looked at Kardeh as if she doubted his intelligence. The man looked a bit embarrassed. "I beg your pardon. Come there the night after tomorrow, all together. I hope your, uh... uh..."

"Kindred."

"Your kindred will not object to our agreement?"

"I can persuade them. Now do the lady the courtesy of ordering the guards not to interfere."

Without hurrying, but also without delay Celesta got up from the table, walked around it, and came close to Richard. He was unarmed, so the only hope for the bandit was the spider, now looking curiously at the show unfolding in the room. The former leader of the gang, a former officer and always a cold-blooded scoundrel, was now afraid. Not with panic fear, when thoughts disappear and the only desire to escape from danger remains in his mind. He was feverishly calculating the options that would allow him to get out with the least losses. The traitor did not have time to call for help. As soon as he opened his mouth, the ghoul slapped him across the face with a stealthy movement of her hand. Richard fell to the floor, hissing in pain and clawing at his torn face.

"There are places where treachery is appreciated, but traitors are not loved anywhere," Celesta said with a grim smile. "Call off the marksmen, Baron. It is time for me to leave."

I wonder what Medea will do to Richard after she leaves?

Kardeh's office was not much of a place for an official of his rank. The small room could barely accommodate a large group of creatures, now warily peering at one another. The Security Office was among the many port administration buildings, and differed from the others only in the presence of a blank fence and a small booth at the entrance, with guards inside. The three-story structure did not look large enough to house an organization with such a sinister reputation as the "spiders' nest". The unremarkable man who greeted the rebels at the entrance, now seated on the left hand of the baron sitting at the head of the table, grinned in response to a question. And said that their employees did not need much space.

In addition to the usual guards, two men in guard uniform, there were five people who came to meet the ghouls. The baron himself, the aforementioned assistant, and three other people. The first, an elderly man with a short beard and piercing blue eyes, wore a dark velvet robe and a thick carved staff. Celesta immediately noted his commanding demeanor and the superiority with which he looked at those around him. He was the only one who paid little attention to Medea who entered, his eyes fixed on Hustin. Pointing a hooked finger at the boy, he called out his full name - the old man was the former Rector of Taleya University and remembered the talented student well.

Next to him sat a woman in a blue dress, about forty years old. Judging by the number of strange objects on her belt, she, too, had something to do with magic. Now she was waving a circular fan irritably.

In those rare moments when Celesta had the opportunity to distract herself from her daily cares, she carefully considered the information she had gathered about the wizards. Strangely enough, the wizards who lived in the palace were spared the Plague - almost all of them survived. Hidden behind thick walls, the ruling clan, their vassals, and servants suffered little in the first, most violent year after the catastrophe. They had enough food supplies, a small herd of cows and other animals was miraculously found on the territory of the complex, and a fine library had been preserved. There were stocks of high-quality cold steel weapons and armor, clearly made with the use of advanced technology. If you recall that the duke descended from Derkana, among other titles called the Patroness of the Pre-Cogs,

If she said her assumptions aloud, no one's intercession would save the undead.

Across from Celesta in a comfortable chair sat a man in the uniform of a lieutenant of the Guard - young, with neatly trimmed short hair and piercing green eyes. Even a broken nose and a short scar on his right cheek did not mar his handsome face. Considering that the guard was commanded by an officer with the rank of captain, the lieutenant must have a lot of power. A confidant of the Duke? Most likely. No one else in the room, one would assume. A representative of higher authority, the two mages Celesta had insisted on seeing, and the spider leadership, the future bosses. Plus the guards, whose ability to remain silent the Baron did not seem to doubt. In the light of the security service's desire to keep the fact that ghouls were recruited into the service secret, the fates of Richard and Fakasius seemed unenviable. Although the latter, most likely, will get out: the likes of him know how to survive.

As the door opened, people's eyes met Medea's entry. The beauty had spent the previous night choosing a suitable dress and searching for makeup: she wanted to present herself at her best. She got what she wanted - the effect of her appearance exceeded all expectations. The former actress bet on her own beauty since she can not compete with the ladies of the court, which for some reason she hoped to meet, in the luxury of dresses. And she was right. When Celesta came in after her, she was pleased to note that even the guards didn't notice her, attracted by Medea's enchanting appearance.

Keep looking at her.

"Please, ladies and gentlemen." The baron kindly pointed to the chairs but did not bother to stand up. He immediately indicated his supremacy. "May I present the blessed Tairan and the blessed Vifella of Mornwar, who are true Wizards by blood. Please also welcome Lieutenant Runneck, Baron Se, and my associate Taraki of Soldova."

"My kin, the noble Medea and Hustin," Celesta briefly introduced her friends as she sat down first. "For obvious reasons, it is not customary in our midst to name a clan. Thank you, blessed ones, I didn't expect to see you so soon."

Tairan impatiently moved: "Let's leave the ceremonies aside. How did you summon the demon?"

Vifella grinned slightly and turned to Celeste in an apologetic tone, pointedly ignoring the others. First of all, Medea: "I apologize for my hasty relative. But we are really extremely interested in how you managed to perform the ritual."

"We would like to know that ourselves. Hustin will write down the details after the meeting; he was directly involved in the preparation of the ritual by the late Morvanites. However, we have questions, too." Celesta raised her hand, defiantly releasing her long claws, ran her hand along her wrist, showing the wound that had healed in front of her eyes. "What do you know of the undead? Is there any chance of getting us back to our normal lives?"

The baron twitched an eyebrow but remained silent. The conversation was not going according to his script, having begun abruptly and unexpectedly. However, Kardeh was interested in the answer to the question, as well as everyone else present. So he pardoned the ghoul's slight breach of etiquette. The spellcasters looked at each other. Tiran turned to the half-dead men, waiting tensely for an answer, and then spoke, choosing his words carefully. He leaned on the stick as if he were talking out loud:

"To understand the phenomenon of the appearance of undead beings, it is necessary to remember that their existence is directly related to the changed magical constants. Plague, loss of direct access to elemental energy, and rising from the dead are links of the same chain. Therefore, before answering your question, my dear lady, I will briefly outline the causes of the catastrophe that occurred three years ago.

In simple terms, human greed is to blame. Since ancient times, people were able to draw energy from the planet's mother field, using it to create spells. Wizards had both lofty and the lowest, everyday goals. Up to a certain point, there were not too many wizards, and there was enough power for everyone. Gradually, the blessed more often began to take wives, or simply sleep with ordinary women. Half-breeds were born, and the layer of people who could enchant only with the help of external sources increased.

But about three hundred years ago, what the history books call the "Revolution of Progress" happened - one talented self-taught man found a way to mass-produce artifacts designed for ordinary people. And immediately there appeared lamps that did not require oil, self-propelled carts ran through the streets, seeds in the fields sprouted, irradiated by the flow of pure energy of life. The equilibrium was out of balance, nature could not cope with human demands and gradually began to devour itself. The first sign of trouble was the desolation of Scully, the once beautiful valley turned into a desert for no apparent reason. Then a wave of mutations swept over the planet, with perfectly healthy animals bearing horrible, biologically monstrous offspring.

The magicians warned of the imminent threat, but they were not wanted to be heard. And when the rulers did listen to the visionaries, it was too late. The mind of the world had recognized humanity as dangerous to its existence. We had turned from a useful organ into a cancerous cell that needed to be either healed or cut out. The solution was simple and elegant - to cut off the channels through which energy flows out of the planet. It wasn't even a punishment: just a grown-up father blocking the bathroom faucet, unknowingly opened by his young son. Yes, a lot of water came out, but now the pipe doesn't leak and the neighbors don't suffer. I'm sorry for the inappropriate analogy - it's hard for me to find another one.

Mankind was deprived of magic.

But the trouble is, the world still needs energy. The planet's circulatory system is empty, and energy is needed immediately, right now. Available sources are exhausted, so we are left to feed where the supplies are greatest, i.e., the human race. Each of us can be seen as a receiver of energy received from the cosmos, but rarely do we consider that all received energy is not so difficult to take away. At the same time, it reduces the load on the biosphere by destroying most of the individuals and bringing the biocoenosis into balance. Plagues, epidemics, outbreaks of violence, climatic disasters have thinned out the population well, by our time one person in a hundred has survived. However, the force was still lacking. Death, sacrifice give a temporary effect, now require a constant steady boost. That's when the first ghouls appeared.

I do not know the reasons why some people rise after death, while others are simply turned into a piece of rotting flesh. But I can tell you that every risen man transmits to the world a portion of the power he receives with the blood of living beings. Pain, fear, other negative emotions... Yes, it's a rough, heavy force, but it's exactly what the earth needs right now. You three in front of me are essentially the mouth with which the world's organism consumes the food it finds!"

"My dear brother, spare me your analogies," Vifella grimaced. "This way you're comparing me to a cow or a sheep. I'd rather you tell me if it's possible to return the undead to their... original state."

"Perhaps," shrugged the slightly bewildered mage. "Why not? If I have the proper energy resources, two hundred years of experiments, and the right tools, I'll take on the task."

"You might as well promise to pluck a star from the sky!"

"Well, in the old days..."

Celesta put her hand on Medea's wrist, stroking her fingers comfortingly. She could feel her friend's pain. Medea had never come to terms with the fate of the night huntress, and now the mask of a happy and contented woman was about to crack. You can't relax, not now. You'll cry later.

People took the mage's impromptu lecture in different ways. Some listened attentively - Tairan was an excellent storyteller, some curved their lips in a skeptical sneer. Hustin was the only one who seemed to have questions, but he decided to ask them later, considering today's meeting was not the last.

"If magic is gone, why haven't Morvan's rituals lost their power?"

"The magic of the Overlords is the oldest in the world, and it is built on principles different from those generally accepted. Little is known of it!" the mage exclaimed in frustration. He did not consider it necessary to conceal his feelings. "Priests are too good at keeping their secrets. We have suspected that the source of their power lies beyond our reality, but we have been unable to find out anything specific."

"I am grateful for the explanations, Blessed Tairan," Kardeh interjected respectfully but firmly, "but we are not here to discuss metaphysical problems. The organization I head is more concerned with down-to-earth matters. So, gentlemen and ladies, please take your minds off the subject you are so passionate about."

The Baron ignored the elder's menacing gaze - he had a lot of power himself. Celesta put her hands on the armrests of the chair, feeling the involuntary tightening of the skin on her cheekbones. She restrained the urge to show her fangs. There was no reason at all to show nervousness; their fate was being decided now. Kardeh intends to announce the terms on which the small group of risen will be allowed to live.

"One bright head," the man looked ironically at his assistant, "recently suggested the introduction of a so-called Special Department into the security structure. With special, so to speak, employees. The idea is original, though not feasible. Officially, the authorities can not be associated with the undead, remember that. Consequently, our cooperation will be unofficial. You will show us your hideouts. Give us the names of the informants, all of them, the entire database. Immediately hand over the laboratory and the raw materials for making "whitewash". Recruitment of new agents is forbidden, no actions should be carried out without the consent of my appointed supervisor. Orders received must be carried out accurately, the slightest deviation from instructions will be severely punished. Hunting is permitted only in slums and lower-class people, and without dead bodies. Lady Celesta, do we understand each other?"

"Sure." The conditions are hard, but it is possible to live. Gradually, piece by piece, she will reclaim her freedom. "I have a few... suggestions."

"What kind?"

"Word of mouth greatly exaggerates the abilities of the undead. Aside from better reactions, survivability, and the ability to see in the dark, we have no particular advantage over humans. It seems to me that it makes sense to give us instructors to teach us the right skills."

"I think I'll agree," he thought and looked at the lieutenant and nodded. "What next?"

"Allow Hustin to visit the library or get the literature he needs. We still hope, in time, if not to become alive, at least to lessen our addiction to human blood."

"Blessed Tairan?"

"Let him study," the mage waved his hand benignly, "under my supervision. I wonder if he still has his talent, and if so, in what direction it has mutated."

"In that case, I don't mind. Is that all?"

"We'll discuss the rest later. Now there's just one more thing. Tell me, is your basement sturdy?"

"No one has ever escaped," Kardeh smiled a little wary.

"It's nearly dawn, and we have no daytime shelters nearby," Celesta grinned back. "I'm afraid we'll have to count on your hospitality. Choose a cell with stronger doors: disturbing a sleeping undead is dangerous."

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