Chapter 18

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The awakening was instantaneous. She had just been lying there, falling into a deep, heavy sleep when suddenly her consciousness was suddenly switched on, and began to assess the incoming information. Her body was overflowing with energy, and Celest found it hard to hold still, suppressing with an effort of will the urge to jump up and take action. To do anything but sit still.

"Are you sure Messena will come to her senses?"

Latham's voice. Worried about his mistress, as always.

"I think so," Hustin answered. "I can't say exactly how long. I'm more worried about what happens to her afterward. What did she have to pay to win?"

There were no other risens or people nearby, so Celesta opened her eyes. She smiled as she looked at the heads of her comrades-in-arms bent over her. They had retreated half a step for some reason.

"We'll deal with the payment issue later, Hustin," she informed her court mage. "Although, just in case, check my aura for extraneous changes. Latham, report."

"We're on level three, ten minutes' walk from the scene of the fight," the bodyguard answered instantly. "It's been an hour. The square had been ravaged, with priests and mages now scurrying about, taking some measurements. Two adversaries are dead, one was captured, and the leader you fought with has disappeared. All captured strangers are now interrogated by Zervan. My squad is here, waiting for instructions."

In the distance came screams of pain and the cracking of broken bones. Celesta rose easily to her feet, noting in passing the incredible lightness and plasticity of her body, and glided down the aisle in a dancing, blurred motion. It was hard to get out of the way.

"Do any of the people know about the results of the fight?"

"We didn't tell anyone, Messena. Not even ours."

"Perfect."

Zervan, who up to that moment had been purposefully turning his former foe into a well-chopped piece of meat, moved fidgetily back against the wall when Mistress appeared. Apparently, the demons' appearance had shaken his ultra-resilient psyche after all, for he'd never before been so visibly disturbed in her presence. Not even on his worst days, after a severe battering. Celesta walked over to the stump nailed to the wall with steel crutches, ran her finger across his bloody cheek, and asked aloud:

"Did he say where are the others?"

"Yes, Mistress," Zervan nodded. He stared at the scorched mark left by the touch of the slender maiden's hand on the risen's flesh. "There are eight of them left, just as we thought. But I'm sure there were people helping them."

The vampiress thought for a moment.

"Mortals aren't that important. I can't allow any of Carlon's disciples to escape from Taleya, which is exactly what will happen if we delay and don't catch them right away."

"Shall we send for Kalderan?" Latham suggested. "His help might come in handy."

The people and even some of the rebels thought the renegade had left the city for the north. Allegedly, the approach of the former chief frightened him so much that he could not stand it and ran away again. In reality, Celesta simply didn't want to show him to her superiors - who knows what the "spiders" would think? Lately, they've been acting out of ideological rather than rational considerations

"No. First, we don't have much time. Second, he didn't mention anyone close to him in his stories, and third, I may be making a mistake in letting him live. We must destroy everyone with whom the mad priest may have shared his knowledge. It is too dangerous." The Mistress did not so much chuckle as she grinned. "Carlon was very good at persuasion. I can't risk it, and I intend to destroy all the bearers of his faith."

Hustin had not uttered a word since she had awakened. The mage studied the processes going on in his mistress with enthusiasm, and, judging by the occasional curses that broke through his teeth, wished only that the object of his scrutiny would remain in one place for as long as possible. He remarked, however:

"The Element of Darkness is being studied at the Academy. I can't say that they are successful, but there are some results."

"Academics do not seek to destroy humanity and to make room for a new race. What about Vantal?"

"His right arm was torn out, Messena," Latham answered, grimacing. "The leader of those four was unexpectedly strong."

Vantal will have to heal for at least a year - it's very difficult to grow bones. Considering who stood up to them, the loss is acceptable. But what to do now? The remaining outsiders must be dealt with as quickly as possible before they try to flee the city. She would not send her guardsmen into battle now- vampires need their rest, too, if only to heal their wounds. Use Zervan's gang? She could but it would be a waste. They are also a resource, even if they are not of very high quality. To draw people in? Absolutely no desire to share the victory, especially with the temple people. They will surely find a way to take credit from the risens, and make them look bad. However, there seems to be a suitable option.

"It will be dawn in half an hour... Latham, are you still in touch with the captains of the Hunters?"

"Of course, Messena. They are dissatisfied with the conditions offered by the Templars and are eager to make contact."

"Immediately inform them of the place where the servants of Carlon are staying, promise them a generous reward, and you can give them the plan of the tunnels in that section. If they hurry, they'll be ready before noon. We'll keep an eye on the catacombs."

The bodyguard immediately went off to organize a cleanup. The other could be said to have run away, but Latham managed to move with majestic grace and very fast at the same time. An iron psyche. He had just witnessed an event comparable to the battles described in the old legends (with the general weakening of magic, of course), and he hadn't blinked an eye. A unique hybrid of childhood instilled face control, fatalism, and faith in his diminutive mistress.

The undead couldn't do anything against the mortals. Again.

You can be strong, smart, lucky, or all together. You can get out of hundreds of messes. You can live for hundreds of years, inspiring fear and becoming more experienced with each passing year. Kudos and praise to you. But remember - the minute you allowed yourself to neglect your opponent and forget caution, you lost. Graves are full of people who thought they were invincible. The outsiders had forgotten this rule. They despised what they thought were inferior creatures, and they paid the price for it.

To be fair, the hunters should be commended for coping brilliantly with the order proposed to them. Of the eight risens only two managed to escape into the narrow passageways of the catacombs, able to cope with the effects of afternoon sleep and not to rush into a hopeless fight. The rest could not control their instincts and began to charge at the hunters, this time with flying colors. The mortals were too well prepared and had sufficient skill, acquired through decades of practice. Hunters were well versed in the habits of any undead, knew their strengths and weaknesses, passed down recipes for poisons or stimulants from generation to generation, and did not shy away from using artifacts. Occasionally, very rarely, there were wizards among them who made good use of the particles of knowledge they found. In short, the Carlon afterbirths stood no chance, and the fugitives who had broken through the cordon were finished off by the Taleya vampires.

Celesta ordered that no prisoners be taken.

Moments of total triumph have a vile tendency to end in trouble. The ancient Romans noted this, who used to put an evil-speaking slave in the chariot of the triumphant, a reminder of the windiness of people's love. Everything seemed fine: Carlon was dead! The crisis is over at last! Medea will now forget her bouts of depression and return to her usual laughably exalted state! It was probably the hardest thing to see her friend depressed, so the first thing Celesta did was tell her the good news.

"Medea, do you hear me?"

"You're alive!" The force of the mental response rang in my head. "They didn't catch you?"

Medea's emotions were literally overwhelming her, and she was not able to remove herself from them at once.

"Don't be silent! Answer me!"

"Calm down, it's hard for me to keep a connection!"

"I'm sorry, there's nothing reflective in here," said the noun sister a little less forcefully. "And they won't let me out of my room. How are you?"

"We killed Carlon and all his scum!"

Celesta herself was amazed at the sheer animal pleasure with which she reported her victory. It seemed that deep down inside she was not as calm as she thought she was. The fear of the priest was ingrained, habitual, and invisible, and only now that it was gone could she feel it.

"Really?! Is he really dead?" Judging by the coming emotions, Medea was desperate and at the same time afraid to believe the happy news. "Are you sure?"

"Believe me, I finished him off very well," Mistress of Taleya assured me with grim humor. "There weren't even any ashes left."

After a long silence, Medea spoke out with an unspeakable bouquet of emotions:

"Thank the gods. You have no idea how happy I am."

"Well, why, I, too, had a huge stone lifted from my heart. Can you imagine, now that's it! We'll never hear about him again!"

"Tell me, how did you deal with him?"

"It's too long, and I don't have much energy left. Come to my place in the Third Dungeon, and we'll talk there in detail."

Her friend was silent again for a long time.

"Be damn my blood. I'd forgotten all about joy," she sounded doom in her voice. "You cannot go home. Laar gave the order to eliminate you."

"What?!"

"Right after you and Hustin performed the ritual. I literally just found out. You're charged with killing the Son of the Sea's subjects, practicing forbidden magic, and attempting to malign His Sacred Personality. It seems they've decided there are no outsiders and you made the whole thing up yourself."

"Bastards!" Celesta roared, struggling to suppress a deafening rage. "I hate them!"

"And we can't meet, at least not until nightfall. I'm in Count Linae's house right now, and there are a lot of clerics around. If I go out... I won't be able to sneak out until after sundown."

"He won't betray you? Your Count?"

"Rudy?!" The indignation seemed unplayed. "How could it be? I took his virginity!"

"The King will order it, and you'll know how," the older vampiress bade grimly. - That's it, that's enough, the link's breaking up. I'll think of something, just get yourself out. I'll see you later."

"See y..."

The desire to rest had to be crushed with an iron fist. The time seemed to be counting in seconds, and it was urgent to understand what was happening. What was going on? Medea would not lie, but she might well misinterpret what she had learned. And if not? Okay, first of all - information.

Latham and his squad were too tired, they already had to use stimulants during the day. They are still young to be awake during the day. Hastin is not a spy, she is not able to go anywhere by herself. That leaves Zervan. An exuberant Elder, who just drained the risen who lost in a fight: not because of hunger, but simply as a proof of victory.

Celesta pushed away the mirror she had used to communicate with her sister. She was now in yet another shelter, hidden deep underground and seemingly unknown to the "spiders". The bare minimum: a narrow trestle bed, a table, a stool, and a stash of a couple of useful items. There were hundreds of such small hiding places around the city, and they were furnished on a similar principle. Her aides filed away in the adjoining rooms, recovering from an eventful day, unaware of the thoughts that haunted their superiors. She, on the other hand, must torment herself with doubts, wondering if the information she had received from her friend was correct. Should Medea go to her aid, or should she allow herself to escape on her own? What exactly to order to Zervan?

In principle, the elimination order is not unexpected and fits into the current policy of the Court. Something like this was expected, just not so soon. Interesting, is she the only one to be eliminated or is it, everyone, starting with the Elders, to be eliminated in general? Find out first. Most of the risens have now fled the city or are hiding in places unknown even to most of the servants-cultists, and they will not be active until they receive new orders. They are safe. There is no need to worry about those who have left the Capital; they have the corruption of the lower ranks, who always readily relay the latest news to the elders of the provincial congregations. And they will hit the largest community and its head in the first place. So, we should be worried about those who remained here in Taleya, who continued to imitate the active work.

"Zervan!"

A rustle was heard behind the wall, the sound of footsteps.

"Here I am, Mistress."

"Medea reports that they've decided to get rid of us," the Mistress broke the news to her assistant. "They said we were the ones who killed the mortals and invented the whole thing."

"They're completely...." Zervan reacted profanely. Celesta had long ago given up trying to cure him of foul language due to the utter futility. "What are we going to do?"

"Now, you will go to the clerk Karist Ot, and give him this ring." The girl rummaged in her purse, pulled out the jewel, and handed it to the bandit. "And tell him that the miller's daughter asked for a debt of gratitude. Word for word. Where does he live, remember?"

"It's hard to forget that old tarantula!" Zervan looked at his Mistress with admiration. - I never would have believed that he was your informer!"

"He doesn't my informer. Agents like Carist are not used for routine," Celesta grimaced. It was almost physically painful to give the name of her most valuable contact. "Find out from him who has been ordered to be removed - the Elders, the risens and servants, or just me? Who gave the order, and what forces are involved? In short, ask him everything. Then come back here. And don't risk - it's another six hours before sunset, and the catacombs are probably full of patrols blessed by the Sun."

"It'll be all right," grinned the former pirate and smuggler slyly. A good fight seemed to have put him back in good spirits and made him forget his recent fears. He didn't like sorcery, was afraid of it. "I'll tear them to pieces if I have to."

The vampiress gave him a cold look.

I want information, not bodies. Go on. And call Hustin on the way.

First, the mortals, who suddenly decided to start hunting at the most inopportune moment. Then the anger of having to reveal the name of an agent recruited nearly half a century ago and who has given crucial information ever since. She has no other ears in the Fourth Chamber of the Secret Guard office. Now she must converse with the sorcerer, eager to learn the details of her duel with Carlon, and at the same time give the prepared listener her own conclusions. He didn't even go home for that and stayed with the rest of the squad. So far he'd managed to avoid him but in a situation where there's an urgent need to contact many risens she can't do without Hustin.

Mother Night, give me a break!

"Did you call?"

Celesta was glad she'd held back and not screamed out loud. Reputation takes years to build but it's destroyed in seconds.

"We have another problem," she "pleased" the assistant.

As the story progressed, the sorcerer, who at first was hovering in scientific empiricism, returned more and more firmly to the earth. He appreciated the complexity of the situation in the blink of an eye. Despite a certain detachment from society, Hustin clearly understood - the risens exist relatively comfortably only due to the connivance of people. If the latter want to ... True, he doubted the ability of the current leadership "spiders" to conduct a large-scale cleanup but he recognized that on a large single action against the top vampires, their resources and determination were enough.

"What do I have to do?"

The subordinate's businesslike tone pleased the Mistress. Very much so.

"I don't think there's any point in hurrying. Our people are either asleep in secret hiding places now, or already scattered ashes, brought into the light. So we wait for Zervan with the news and rest. In the evening you are to contact all the risens of the country, outline the situation to them, reassure them, and pass on my orders." She admitted reluctantly, "I am in no condition to take action myself. I think the drawback is coming."

"I have a couple of good potions with me."

"I'll wait till tonight, and then we'll see." Celesta put the glass vials on the table. "That's it, I'm going to bed. Wake me when Zervan comes back."

"Good day," the sorcerer said with a wry grin as he left the room.

Human stupidity, while taking various forms, still fits into certain standards. For example, the desire to find someone to blame right in the middle of the battle. It is clear to anyone that it is necessary first to eliminate the immediate threat to life, position, loved ones, or status (underline the point) - and only then to find out who is to blame for the situation and whether it could have been prevented. But no - the crisis is not an obstacle for those who like to throw the responsibility on others! On the contrary. While clever and responsible people are trying to bring at least some order, the others, those who are more abrupt, are covering their asses, exposing the former to the wrath of their superiors.

This subtype of idiot is particularly common among officials. Both Laar and Tulak were proof of this.

The series of massacres of families and the panic in the city had stirred up the authorities. The poor were on the verge of revolt. A wild revolt, uncontrollable, and no one wanted it. A scapegoat was needed, preferably one whose guilt was easy to believe, and whose arrest would not cause protests from one of the influential factions. In another situation, they would have framed their enemies but now the leaders of the Secret Guard were looking for a quick result. The risens, especially their Mistress, fit perfectly - they were not liked, and the temples agreed to exchange the destruction of the undead community for some political preferences. The Chancellor gave the green light for the operation.

"So were they going to catch Carlon, or did they seriously think he was my fiction?" Celesta clarified.

"They seem to have been promised something by the priests," replied Zervan, who had returned with his booty. "The Blue Ang and The Sun delegations sat in Laar's office for a long time. They must have sworn they'd catch them themselves."

The scribe of the fourth desk of the Secret Guard is a unique position. One of the highest officers of the web that entangles the kingdom, commander of archivists, accountants, specialists in secret writing, and other relatively peaceful employees, in no way related to the fieldwork. A person unknown to the general public but well versed in the underside of the motley world of the secret service.

The information obtained from Cariste Ot can be trusted. But it's very difficult to get it from such people. They don't talk much, very much.

"We couldn't have a long talk - the moron said his house was being watched. He doesn't know who."

Zervan, like all the Elders, was familiar with the top of the "spiders. He knew who was worth something. If the scribe said he was being watched, he was being watched; he wasn't imagining it.

"Go on, tell me."

"The orders are to arrest all the Elders and anyone else they catch," the bandit shrugged. "Well, except for Medea, of course. You've done it again, cat. About the arrest, you see, it's a pure whistle; they got us where they found us and buried us. The law is not written for the undead. I've seen a lot of mine get shortened on the head, though Scar seems to be in one piece."

"He has good instincts. And he doesn't spend his days in declassified hideouts."

"Whoever didn't obey my order to change hideouts, all laid down," answered Zervan without much regret for his fallen comrades-in-arms. "So be it for fools. It was the first thing that tore down your official chambers. There were a hundred or so priests brought out for the cause. They were in a hurry, trying to take all the glory, so they got angry. What shall we do now, Mistress? They won't rest until they catch us."

"So you say," Celesta curved her lips in a contemptuous sneer. "Our enemies, if you take them all together, have missed their chance. What have they accomplished? The Elders are free, and the basic chain of command is intact. Only the youngsters among the risens have suffered. Gardaman's moved his assets out of the city and even out of the country, and he's in Bardi right now. The men and cultists who served us were warned in advance and lay low until they received special orders, or they left, too, for Zonne, Lascaris, and the other major cities. We made it, Zervan. We started in time, and that's why we were in time."

"They were quick on the run, too," the vampire paid tribute to the enemy. "They made a decision at night, then went hunting during the day. But they fail."

"Did Carist say anything about the other communities? If I had planned an operation against the risens, I would have acted all over the kingdom at once."

"No, Laar didn't give any instructions. Maybe the priests, through their own channels?"

"Or they just forgot. Let's hope for the eternal snobbery of the capital's inhabitants toward the provinces. Perhaps they think that by destroying me and my inner circle, that is, the strongest risens, it will be easier to deal with the rest."

"So what should we do?"

"Sit and wait. The priests can't raid us all at once, and we can't be taken by scattered actions. Let them make a fuss. You rest now - we may have to free Medea. Laar hasn't caught the other Elders, and he needs some sort of success to keep him accountable."

When Zervan left, Mistress laid down on the narrow trestle bed and, looking up at the ceiling, began to calculate the situation in the light of new information. The good news was that her losses were relatively low. She and Hustin still had much to hunt down in the deepest dens of their kind. But even now it was clear that the backbone of the community had survived. It was not for nothing that she had ordered her subjects to sleep in places unknown to the curators.

Initially, the agreement made with the "spiders" implied very strict conditions. The risens were obliged, among other things, to report all the places in which their day shelters were equipped, and to let them be inspected at the first request. This provision was not changed immediately or completely. The "spiders" still knew where the big hideouts were but they agreed to the existence of a network of small rooms like the one Celesta was in now. There were also a dozen equipped dungeons deep underground in the city, like Hustin's lab or Mistress's personal hiding place, most of which had been mothballed once they'd been created. Just in case. There were snitches among vampires and even their own could not always be trusted.

So, what has to be done. First, find all the risens in the Capital. It would be logical to contact the masters of the other cities but her powers are not limitless. She could, however, send a mental message to the Elders of the four largest communities, and let them contact the others. And it must be done now before her resolve fades. Laar would not turn to wizards but would use pigeon mail. That gives her a little head start on time. Secondly, she should find out the status of her personal retinue, and contact the nominal heads of the cults. Without the support of mortals, it is much harder to survive. Next, don't forget about Medea. Her image as a slightly flighty art groupie and the patronage of the old aristocracy saved her from the first blow but now she will be taken seriously. She had better hide with the others.

For the first time in three hundred years, the risens go underground. Completely refuse to support the authorities. In some ways, it's the beginning of a new era.

Her musings were interrupted by a gentle knock on the door.

"Come in, Latham."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Messena, but Master Hustin sent me to you. According to him, something unpleasant happened?"

The bodyguard trivially overslept the events after the final resolution of the issue with the outsiders. First, the battle with the band of outsiders, then the worry about the unconscious Mistress, with whom he was not present in the decisive battle, and finally the organization and participation in the raid completely exhausted the former aristocrat, and he fell into a deep sleep. After all, age was taking its toll. Through lifelong upbringing, training, and ancestral magic, Latham had rightfully ranked as one of the country's strongest risens but he was still young and unable to resist the pressure of the sun. Physiology forced him to hibernate.

"In short, we have been thrown out. The event was long-awaited but still unpleasant."

While Celesta recounted the stormy events of the day her assistant stood motionless his face stony-faced. Nevertheless, the girl who was well acquainted with his emotional background sensed a current of bitterness and carefully suppressed rage emanating from Latham, so she thought it appropriate to note:

"You know, I'm not upset at all. Yes, I was offended - because I had served the Crown and the Country long and faithfully - but I wasn't upset. And, in some way, I'm even pleased - certainty has come the bridges have been burned."

"I hoped to the last that they would not betray us," the assistant confessed.

"From their point of view, we are the traitors, refusing to accept our fate." Celesta smiled slyly. "In fact, many noblemen find it unnecessary to keep their word to a member of an inferior class."

Latham let the quip slip past his ears. In the early years after the uprising, he had a difficult time with his established worldview. Conflict with Zervan, accustomed to the subordination of the younger ones, comes from those times. Fortunately for the former heir of the ancient family honor was not an empty sound or a convenient demagogic trick, so to correct his views on life the mistress managed, albeit with difficulty.

"Perhaps I should take care of the fate of Mr. Laar?"

"He doesn't have long," the Mistress shook her head. "He was valuable as long as he played his part. The need to weaken the Secret Guard is obsolete now, the task is done, and he will soon be replaced by someone more intelligent and more competent. Then we shall see. Morvan with him, the doomed man. You'd better tell me what you think of my death."

The deputy was silent, then cautiously confessed: "I'm afraid my mind isn't sharp enough to keep up with the twists and turns of the thoughts of the Highly Mistress."

"It's very simple. Imagine that I died during the fight with Carlon, and all subsequent actions you took at your own risk, wishing for revenge. The Council has disintegrated, there is no longer a single authority. Zervan minds his own business, you mind yours, Hustin is gone, Gardomann has fled the country. Medea is left, shedding bitter tears and quietly scooping up the rest of my retinue. Estimate the reaction to such news."

"They'll be happy at first, then confused," Latham nodded slowly. "It might work. They'll save face and be able to say they got what they wanted."

"Exactly. In a couple of weeks, it will become obvious that it's impossible to destroy all of Taleya's vampires. Then we'll have to negotiate. With whom? There are two real candidates: Medea, who the community knows well, and you, whom they fear. Who do you think will be chosen?"

"Obviously, I won't satisfy the Chancellor. But I think the raid will last longer than half a month."

"Maybe," the Mistress agreed. "It's a very convenient cover for some business. But the initial tension will subside, and we'll get a respite. The risens need time to adjust to the new rules of the game, and people will give us that."

"I'm afraid that some of the Masters of Cities will want to be on their own."

Celesta shrugged philosophically. Yes, yes, there is such a danger. So?

"I cleaned out the most controversial ones last year. The rest will have to be visited by you. There will be difficulties with the cultists but I hope for Medea's acting talent."

The fragile, defenseless teenager-like leader of the risens smiled coldly. Let her be considered dead. She will lurk in the darkness from where she will watch, rule her servants, and send them after the heads of her enemies. She will wait as long as necessary, she will not rush and make mistakes, she will choose the right moment by herself and regain what is lost. Mortals are prone to hustle, missing the truly serious things in the pursuit of momentary gain.

The undead knows how to wait.

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