Chapter 4

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The undead, who plan to survive for any length of time, are forced to acquire some useful habits. Leave no trace, be friends with the authorities, and have as many hideouts as possible. Sattar was no exception in this respect. His "lairs" were in different parts of the city, not badly hidden, and, Celesta was sure, even she did not know the whereabouts of all of them. She wasn't too worried about that, though: Sattar had never bothered her before. He was a man of rare prudence, and even now he had done the right thing hiding and waiting for help. He was firmly hidden in the cellar of his servant family's house and did not show his face.

The last of the Lascaris risen still looked weak. By his admission, he had survived the battle with the outsiders purely by miracle, and the wounds inflicted by steel and magic had not yet healed. If Sattar had not managed to escape to a rich mansion, whose keys to the protection he had picked up beforehand, and not to sit out the dangerous time, then he would be permanently dead. He was seriously wounded. To heal, the risen had already drained eight people and still felt unwell. Hunger constantly tormented him, forcing him to minimize contact with people - Sattar was afraid to break. Even with his faithful servants, he communicated through the bars.

"Did the town magician examine you?"

"No, Mistress," Sattar grinned wryly. "He says he has more important things to do."

Celesta made a mental note to look into the reasons for the sorcerer's behavior. Usually, the undead had a mutually beneficial, if not friendly, relationship with the members of the Mages' Guild, an organization that practiced permitted sorcery. To refuse to help, especially in this situation, seemed strange, to say the least. Of course, keeping a search grid over an entire city is difficult, but still strange.

"Wounds of magical nature are hard to heal. Stop killing people - their blood won't help you. Tomorrow I will curse mine and send a vial."

Sattar was grateful. The blood of the old risen, especially that which had passed through the ritual of defilement, was powerful medicine. No one could tell exactly why, but in practice, the property was actively used.

"I have everything ready, Messena," called Latham. The absence of one hand did not prevent him from preparing the captured stranger for interrogation. Rather, it stimulated ingenuity. At any other time, Celesta would have ordered the wounded aide to go to rest, but now any hint of weakness Latam would have taken as an insult. He prided himself on his military prowess, and today's defeat threw him into a silent, silent rage.

"Then start."

There was no interrogation room in the basement, but there was a laboratory with a fireplace and a long, heavy table, which not every undead could break. At any rate, the prisoner certainly didn't have the strength. Celesta intended to interrogate the runt before her beloved Service, in the form of the Regional Captain, got their hands on him. The Academy, the Temples, and the Duke of Lash might also demand information. Well, the first two categories have no chance, at least not through official channels, but the blessed Yuinariq is worth the effort. His already stable position at court has recently strengthened even more - he's worth having as a friend.

Although there were no humans in the basement, the stranger was not thinking clearly. His body demanded blood, from whatever source, and the presence of three creatures around him triggered a strictly defined reaction. Exactly what was needed. As long as the runt didn't regenerate, all his strength would go to his treatment, which meant it would be harder for him to resist interrogation. Celesta would have preferred to postpone the interrogation until the next night when her strength was fully recovered, but time was working against her. The organizers of the raid knew how to count. Having found the bodies of two strangers and not finding a third, they were sure to come at her with questions that might not be worth answering. So it was better to find out the details first.

She walked over to her chain-laden kin, examined the restraints, and nodded contentedly. It wasn't that she didn't trust Latham; she'd just had an unpleasant experience in the past. The prisoner lunged forward and growled longingly; as she approached, his hacked-off limbs tensed as if eager to seize her prey. Celesta leaned over, peering into the eyes that clouded with madness.

"Let me in," the vampiress asked soulfully. She was far from Medea's talent for mesmerizing people with her voice in a heartbeat, but she'd learned a thing or two. And now she was making full use of it, saving the energy she'd lost in the battle. "I want to help you. Ease your pain. Answer my questions and you'll feel better. Can you hear me?"

After a short silence, a quiet "Yes" came from the prisoner's lips. Celesta was relieved that the hardest part was over. She had managed to break through the veil of madness. People are easier to work with: they are in most cases less resistant than the undead, sometimes even able to pull entire images from their minds. The risen are tougher.

"Tell me your name. Please. I'm asking you, I'm begging you, tell me your name."

"Yun."

Another small victory. The name is an anchor to control the mind of the interrogator more firmly. No matter how much danger he feels through the induced daze, no matter how much his subconscious mind beats the alarm, he will respond to his name.

"Tell me about yourself, Yun."

The little man spoke, and Celesta relaxed a bit. Now she just had to listen and memorize. They would analyze it later.

The three risen listened in complete silence to the story of Yun's life and the afterlife. A small town, the ruins of houses left from a previous civilization; the impoverished, battered inhabitants; the raids of nomads from the steppe; the arbitrariness of leaders; the pathetic attempts of self-taught mages to withstand the coming of the night of the living dead. On the western edge of the Steppe, the risen did not hide like the inhabitants of Taleya but were much more at ease. Sometimes not even hiding from the living. They had no one to fear - the society had fallen back to tribalism, and there was no one left to fight the undead effectively. I was a little bit like a leader or a hero who killed risen, but the situation did not change in general.

Risen surrounded themselves with a human "herd" that served as food and supplied them with slaves. The size of this hereditary retinue depended on the age, intelligence, and strength of the master, influenced his status in the eyes of his peers and helped him in his struggle for power. There were no undead communities in the towns, but the elite people always knew who was tacitly ruling in this or that area, who to go to for sorting out a disputed situation. Who was responsible for establishing balance and maintaining traditions.

Yun, like everyone else, was struggling for power. He was considered second in his city, but he incredibly wanted to be first. Unfortunately, the ruler in his way was fifty years older, immeasurably more experienced, and influential among his neighbors. Just killing him was impossible. So Yun began to seek power. He spoke to sorcerers, learned to read, tried to resurrect ancient meditative practices. He had a lot of persistence. And it bore fruit - one day, obeying a mental order, the candle on his table flashed brightly.

It took another twenty years before he considered himself ready to challenge the master of that area.

However, after the death of the former head, it suddenly became clear that not everyone is ready to accept the supremacy of Uyun. And not only among humans but also among their kindred. The mortal rulers wanted to use the opportunity to get rid of the predatory creatures around them. The risen considered the runt insufficiently strong and preferred to seek other leaders. Most of all, they were all terrified of his magic. The legacy of the Plague...

The enemies united with each other. Yun would have been able to defeat each one individually - neither the poorly armed human units nor the undead leaders of the neighboring towns would have been able to withstand him in equal combat. But they would outnumber him if they joined forces. The wizard didn't wait for the combined army to arrive, gathered his remaining loyal servants, hired nomads to guard him, and headed east. Rumor had it that many people lived there and that there were large cities that did not know the night ruler.

"Why did you kill every night?" Celesta hurried a little. She was tired of "holding" the prisoner and wanted to finish quickly.

"I was wrong," Yun complained. ?There are too many mages here. Even the children of the night obey them! We need blood to hide."

The last word made him jerk, throwing off the grip of another's will on his body and mind. Undead nodded her thoughts. Witchcraft requires energy, and blood and murder give energy. Finding the corpses of murdered men forces the authorities to intensify their search, forcing them to hide from hostile sorcery again and again. A vicious circle.

Great power - and given to a fool.

She should have continued the interrogation, gotten the details out of the prisoner, but Celesta was too tired. The long road without a full day's sleep, the hard night's fighting, the complicated sorcery had sapped her strength. Rest is needed. She still has to communicate with the so-called superiors from the local branch of the Guard, prepare medicine for the servants, contact Hustin and inform him about the caught "colleague". However, the first priority is to immediately meet with the ruler of Lascaris, or at least to please him with news of his victory.

"At dawn, send a trusted man to Duke Lash," she ordered Sattar as she turned and left the dungeon. "Have him inform the blessed one of my arrival. Tell him that the danger has been removed and the strangers are dead, one captured. If the duke agrees, I will visit him tomorrow, just after sundown - I would like to discuss a few things with him.

"Messena, is it reasonable?" Latham intervened. "He will be in his territory, under the protection of the ancestral walls."

Mistress nodded slightly, accepting her concern. Lash had not previously shown ardent hostility toward her or her subjects, nor had he supported the temple parties, and Medea spoke well of him. But that meant nothing. If the duke saw fit or was simply besotted with rage, it would be fatal for a risen to be in his castle. They were lucky enough that the locals hadn't had time to eliminate the outsiders before Celesta arrived, and now she could make herself look like a savior.

"Let's hope the good news improves his mood."

The Lascaris rulers received the title "blessed" along with the title of duke (literally translated as "sovereign prince who gives advice to the one who wears royal robes") and were more proud of it than any other acquisition. Now their position in society, previously extremely stable, was elevated to an inaccessible height, second in status only to the ruler's family. Officially, the family of Lash was able to move from the aristocracy to the "nearest descendants of the gods" because of their loyal service to the Taleyan rulers, their wealth, and their marital ties with the descendants of Dinir. Among the Lash - it was not mentioned out loud, but they attached great importance to the fact - magicians were often born, so, according to the ancient canons, the priests saw no special obstacles to ascension.

Thus, the Dukes of Lascaris was not just the elite - they belonged to the elite of the elite. And they behaved accordingly.

Celesta, however, was not in awe of the dignity of her vis-a-vis. Although she had never met Yuinariq before, she knew his father well, and together with his intriguer grandfather had once pulled off mutually profitable schemes. And Medea, who had moved in high places, had told her a great deal about the duke, and some of the stories were savory enough to strip their hero of any halo of grandeur.

Especially since the meeting took place in the best traditions of the "cloak and dagger" novels - a trip down an underground passage, a cloaked guide, secret negotiations in a semi-darkened office. In such a setting, grandeur was hard to press, especially on a creature who had been familiar with the art of intrigue for far longer. Celesta was frustrated by something else. The Dukes of Lash's castle had originally been built according to ancient canons, and the foundation stones had been laid according to rituals whose meaning had been long forgotten, but continue to act. Signs carved in the foundations and walls reacted sensitively to risen or other undead, not allowing entry without the master's permission and ready to unleash their murderous power on their enemies at his command. Even the strongest of the undead were immune to the houses of old families who were true to tradition.

"Messena Celesta," the Duke rose from his throne to pay his respects to his guest. - I am honored to host the savior of the city. Thank you for accepting my invitation and making it possible to visit my humble abode on such short notice.

"Not at all, blessed Yuinariq! You are too kind. Another night or two and the intruders would surely have been caught without my involvement. It is I who should thank you for this audience."

Besides Lash and his guest, there were two others in the room - the duke's confidant, Vatar, the head of his "answer-givers," and one man behind a light curtain. Judging by the latter's iron odor and rapid breathing, he was an elixir-infused bodyguard. The usual precaution.

While the host and his guest exchanged pleasantries, which took about ten minutes, the chief of security was silent. Only when the undead, comfortably seated in a low-backed armchair, drank the first bowl of light wine did Vatar dare to cough slightly, drawing attention to himself.

"Ah, yes," Lash ostensibly recalled the vassal at his side. "Just before you came, Messena, we were arguing about whether you'd destroyed all the enemies or whether one had escaped. Tell me, which of us was right?"

Well, this is the beginning of a serious conversation. It is only gratifying that of all the possible forms of the highest language in which the nobility speaks to each other, the blessed one has chosen the mildest, demonstrating friendliness to the interlocutor.

"Neither." The vampiress smiled slightly, flashed her fangs for a moment, and made the bodyguard jerk involuntarily. "I took the leader prisoner."

She gave a rather detailed yet brief account of the hunt that had taken place yesterday and how it had ended. After a little hesitation, she spoke of Latham's wounds and Sattar's grave condition. She did not wish to show weakness, but she wanted to show what a formidable foe the Undead had faced in Lascaris. She was listened to with extreme attention.

"... Now he's lying in Sattar's cellar, wrapped in chains," Celesta finished her story. "I'm afraid to keep the undead in such a state for long, and I'm afraid to give too much power to a mage, even a weak one. The unwise woman asks the blessed one for advice: what should she do with her prisoner?"

"Even an enemy who will never be a friend can be useful," said the Duke philosophically. "Give him to me. A showdown in the central square will calm the city. The mobs are nervous and too many mercenaries do not add to the quiet."

The leader of the undead lowered her eyes, examining the pattern on the light brown, thick carpet. The room was divided into two parts: the general, with little furniture, and the throne dais, separated by a low threshold, on which only the master of the house had the right to be. Thus, the bodyguard and Vatar stood, though in front, to the right and left of the guest. The duke and the undead sat face to face.

"I'm not sure I have the right to make such a decision." She deliberately shifted from the elegant language of the aristocracy to the coarser common vernacular. "Just before I left the house, I received a letter from the coordinator of the Secret Guard ordering me to hand the prisoner over to the monks of Ang. I must confess I was surprised..."

Yuinariq leaned back slightly, pondering this information. He knew as well as she did about power and the situation inside the spider's nest. The once-mighty service had lost much of its power and influence. People with no experience in operational work, but loyal to patrons from the power groups of the court, were appointed to command positions. So, the senior "spider" Lascaris closely associated with the Chancellor's clique... Not news, in general, but before he did not try to bypass the Duke, to undermine the power of Lash in his native domain.

Celesta wanted to ignore the order from her superiors, and for several reasons at once. Not just personal, though she was offended by the coordinator's reluctance to meet and discuss the planned hunt or the manner of giving ill-conceived orders. What she needed was an alliance with Yuinariq. Having a close bond with the blessed one, who until now had stood defiantly aloof from the faction battle, would increase her freedom of maneuver and make it easier to defend the interests of the undead. Again, resources. Lascaris is rich - with his support and channels behind him, a lot can be achieved.

So the vampiress intended to give the stranger to the Duke in any case. Her superiors would be unhappy, so be it - there was no one to replace her. But she hoped that Lash, irritated by the impotence of the Guards, the intrigues of the temple hierarchs, and guided by gratitude to her, Celesta, would not limit himself to a letter to the chancellor. She needed more serious support.

"My status allows me to ignore the demands of almost any officer of the Guard..."

"Leave it to me to communicate with your superiors, Messena Celesta," the Duke responded instantly. "I am sure Laar will heed my words."

"Perfect," the undead bowed slightly. "Your intervention will save me a lot of complications. However, I would like to draw the blessed one's attention to another point. It will be about the behavior of the local representative of the Academy."

"What's wrong with him?"

Vatar was silent, but Celesta could tell by the subtle change in his posture that he was tense. Worried.

"I will not consider Master Ryder's stubborn unwillingness to meet with me in person or, say, to assist in the treatment of my injured servant. Perhaps his behavior is for religious reasons. This is about the tracking net the venerable wizard has installed."

"You will recall that from the moment the outsiders appeared in Lascaris, the venerable master took an active part in the search for them. He performed a series of elaborate rituals to reveal the whereabouts of all the undead in the city, put all his scouts out on the streets, and even enlisted the Academy's helpers who were skilled in tracking them down. The master, however, was unsuccessful."

"His failure in itself is strange but understandable. Old vampires are capable of hiding their presence from mages. However, as I found out, the only alien mage specialized in fire, with little knowledge of the other arts. Though he used all of his skill, he couldn't fool the net - some of the ranges remained uncovered."

"At first I didn't notice the discrepancy, but then... Is it true that Chancellor Rakawa suggested reinforcing the garrison with a regiment of swordsmen?"

Celesta paused, inviting her companions to speculate on the rest. For intriguers of their level, it should not be difficult to fill in the gaps in the place of the untold. Ryder comes from the family of the Barons of Tesso, known for their loyalty to the all-powerful Chancellor. Rakawa is extremely unhappy with Duke Lash's independent stance, but at the same time is wary of pushing him too hard. The disturbances in Lascaris could be the very occasion that would allow the Taleyan authorities to bring troops into the city and, without formally removing Yunariq, remove him from power in practice. Or at least weaken his influence. A simple and effective chain.

No wonder they searched so haphazardly for strangers and could never catch them.

"The silly woman would be glad if the blessed one dispelled her suspicions," the risen reverted to high style again. "She holds Master Tairan's friendship in extremely high regard and would not wish to doubt his subordinates."

The men looked at each other.

"Unfortunately, Messena Celesta, our relations with Master Ryder leave much to be desired, too," Vatar spoke up for the first time. "There has been an unfortunate misunderstanding between us lately. We even tried to ask the Chancellor to replace the City Wizard, but the Honorable Tairanus refused the request. According to him, Master Ryder has the highest approval of his position."

In other words, they were quarreling almost to death. Otherwise, they wouldn't have asked to be replaced. It seems that the situation in Lascaris is much cooler than it looks from the outside.

"I had no choice but to bow to the will of the Son of the Sea," the duke intervened, stopping the talkative subordinate. "And so it will be from now on. But I am most grateful to you, Messena Celesta, for your concern, and I deeply regret that we did not meet sooner. I should have made more effort to pay you my respects. Perhaps there is some way I can redeem myself? Now or later?"

Diplomat! The risen had to admire Yuinariq restraint. In a short speech he managed to say that he was in control of the situation, he would deal with it on his own, no help was needed, but thank you anyway. And yes, I have nothing against the alliance. It used to be impossible, but now the circumstances have changed. The play with the meaning of the phrases made it clear that we should not count on too sharp a rapprochement, and that the partners would definitely not be equal.

Celesta was satisfied with the offer: it was what she was coming here for.

"The blessed one is merciful, born-at-night does not deserve his participation. Yet she is too weak to resist taking advantage of such a generous offer." Upon hearing the passage about weakness, the men bloomed identical skeptical grins. "The community of my servants in Lascaris is in a difficult position. Its head is dead, its second in strength severely wounded, and the rest have been forced to choose between death and flight. Is there no way to ease their plight? I ask for little - to allow the new head of the community, Sattar, to seek the advice of a wise ruler in difficult situations."

"Certainly, Messena," the Duke instantly oriented himself. "I will gladly help your servant. Especially since he suffered in defense of my subjects, which means that he can count on my gratitude."

All present were aware that they were, in fact, violating centuries of tradition. Never before had the risen made any treaties with the aristocracy without informing the Secret Guard. All sorts of things have happened, of course, but never without the involvement of a third party in negotiations or agreements. Now Celesta acted solely on her behalf. The Duke didn't just let the head of the city's vampires address him directly either - he gave a channel of communication that bypassed the "spiders." Yes, of course, he would cover the community from temple raids, help with difficulties with the city guards, and fulfill various, petty for him, requests. But first and foremost he agreed to exchange information, that is, the most valuable thing in the world.

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