Chapter 2

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Zonna, the capital of the Land of Blueness. A city of contrasts.

The lush greenery and stone slabs of squares. The poor shacks of the peasants and the lace spires of the palaces soaring high. Dozens of temples, guardians of divine wisdom, and hundreds of establishments known for their easygoing nature, from theaters to "tea houses" with cheerful staff always ready to have fun. The state cult of the Keeper of the Waters, Derkana the Fickle, and the austere, black monolith of the cathedral of the Lord of Darkness Morvan, patron of wizards and sorcerers.

It is to Derkana that the city owes its current appearance.

When Prince Kono, who took the throne name Konir the Second, declared his nephew bereft of grace and deposed, not everyone supported him. Despite the monstrous sacrifices of the Tyran Curse, and despite the severe loss of reputation, a significant portion of the army remained loyal to Irrhan. A civil war broke out, rifts rippling through all slices of society. Fighting took place in all provinces, with no silent corners left at all, and the hegemon's weakened neighbors took advantage of the momentum. The bloody meat grinder, in which there were no winners, lasted nine years and ended with the signing of the "Treaty of the Two Flowers". The parties mutually recognized each other and divided the formerly single state into two roughly equal parts - north and east went to Taleya. South and west now belonged to the newly created Land of the Blueness, with its capital in Zonna.

Throughout the struggle, Konyr positioned himself as a conservative, a follower of the old laws and customs. In particular, he never forgot to recall that the divine patron of the dynasty was Derkana the Fickle, whose cult also traditionally occupied a peculiar place among the other temple trends. The servants of the Keeper of the Waters were considered "officials of religion"; in other words, no official event took place without their participation, they necessarily participated in commissions related to church squabbles, issued certificates of trustworthiness to representatives of new religions, and in general were more like a government department than a group of clergymen.

It is only natural that in the new place, creating the structure of government, the king copied the old scheme. Why change something that works well?

In Zonna, the servants of Derkana, and consequently their royal lord, had a little problem of an ideological nature. The city was situated in a valley with a river that was not the most full-flowing, and there were no other sources of water nearby. To the south, the steppe flowed into the desert; to the north, too, the steppe gradually turned into forests. There were difficulties with the administration of services, and people simply began to laugh. And there was nothing to be done about it - this was not the seaside town of Taleya, there were not even any lakes of decent size here.

At other times, they would have limited themselves to changing the ritual component and forget about it. At that time, during the war, it was a question of the legitimacy of power.

To smooth over the rumors, in addition to the obligatory beheading, Konir started building. First, he ordered to dig a large lake, in the center of which he erected a temple of Derkana, and obliged the priests to hold daily services there. The priests didn't object - it was a usual and well-paid job. Secondly, Konir surrounded his palace, a large structure, with a wide moat, declaring that thus the energy of the element of water worked to his advantage and allowed him to better hear the voice of his ancestor. What exactly he heard is unknown, but the moat worked well as a defensive structure, stopping the first, most furious onslaught during the city's only assault by loyalist troops.

After watching the lord's actions, his retinue followed suit. It became the custom to surround the estates with wide ditches, wider than the streets, filled with water. The nobles competed with each other over the richness of the embankments, lined sections of their banks with painted marble slabs, and considered those who confined themselves to ordinary building stones as beggars. As a result, by now Zonna consisted of two parts: the Old Town, with its suburbs and simple houses, similar to dozens of other towns, and the New Town, where boats sailed in the streets and no horses were seen at all.

As time passed, there was not enough water. The Itir River, flowing through the valley, was never full and could not adequately fill the artificially created floodplain. Some of the canals began to shallow. By order of the next ruler, upstream irrigation works were carried out and the channels of several other smaller rivers were changed, resulting in a minor ecological disaster. It broke out in the southern parts of the country and partially affected the territories of the Azar Sultanate, causing another war. However, that is another story.

Medea's estate was on the border of the Old Town and the New Town. That is, it had its pier and the obligatory boat shed, but the main exit and the front gate were located on the ground, leading to a street paved with wild stone. The quirks of the golden-haired lover of poetry and theater were understood by high society - it is well known that the undead does not like flowing water.

"In my opinion, you're taking a risk by openly showing your nature. People will never be able to forget that there is a predator near them."

Celesta hoped that her arrival in the city had gone unnoticed. Or at least the house-watchers hadn't realized who exactly was visiting the leader of the local undead community. Medea's entourage is large, and it's easy to get lost in it. Latham, of course, was unhappy - he, the guardsmen, and most of the mortals who had accompanied his Mistress on her journey had to be housed in the city, in inns and houses belonging to the cultists. But if the appearance of one new vampire, who looked harmless at first glance, would not cause alarm, then the news of the arrival of a dozen elder risens would stir the imagination of those concerned.

Latham, the cunning Medea, would not let him into her house either. She intended to have a little privacy with her friend.

"If a predator looks safe, they won't kill him, they'll put him in a cage and start admiring him," Medea muttered without opening her eyes. "The main thing is to successfully pretend that you are harmless. And you sit in a cage."

She liked to lie like that, snuggled up against Celesta's side, covered with the same light blanket. It was a habit from the days when the two of them hid in the sewers, not knowing if they would survive the next day. Perhaps nowhere else did she feel as safe as with her sister. Medea, the Sweet-voiced, the Warlock, the Beautiful One, walked through her not-life with a smile, trying not to remember her fears - but that didn't mean she was rid of them altogether.

"Besides, only five out of the whole community live openly," she went on to defend her chosen way of life. After-life. "The other thirty-eight are still in the shadows."

Many people sincerely believe that bureaucracy is evil. Much of the population of the kingdoms thought the same of Celeste. Their alliance was inevitable. The statistical department organized in the office counted one thousand six hundred and twenty-two vampires, of whom only eight lived in seclusion. The largest of the communities was Taleya, both for historical reasons and because of a long tradition of sending young people to the court of the Mistress. The Capital was also home to the School of Paths, extremely popular in the last hundred years, the Great Archives, and the Hall of Mysteries, where every cultist dreamed of being admitted. Other congregations boasted far fewer accomplishments, though Medea was justifiably proud of her city's temple to the Lord of Darkness. Her closest aide, Egard, served as its Abbot.

"You'll have to do your best to repair the damage to your reputation," the little risen remarked. "Rumors of the Zurvan horde's outrages must have reached here by now, no matter that it's another kingdom."

Medea turned slightly, looking up at the angular teenage profile from below.

"Did you find out why he betrayed us?"

"He wanted impunity," Celesta answered reluctantly. "He wasn't satisfied with the restrictions I imposed. There have been preconditions for disruption before, but we - I preferred to ignore them. The Paths of the Beast have a natural tendency toward simple solutions, natural cruelty to which I attributed incidents."

"The immediate impetus was an acquaintance with that fugitive from the Seven Rivers. Do you remember the expedition we were organizing?"

"Of course. I've been hearing all about it!"

"It's not going to happen, I canceled the preparations. There's no one to send now. It was originally supposed to be made up of the risens the least influenced by the Sun. They had a long march across the steppe, and there was no telling how their circumstances would play out. The local vampires are unlikely to react calmly to the appearance of two dozen strong outsiders. Who is the most light-tolerant of all? Zervan and his entourage. They were."

Kalderan handed over all the materials he had collected on the Seven Rivers to Zervan, and in addition, Sattar had a trespasser caught in Lascaris in prison. About once every five to ten years, rebels come from the west, behaving as they are used to at home. They are usually either destroyed on the spot or if they have not done anything serious, sent to Taleya. Our chief scout decided that this Gurban-ogoon might be useful as a source of information, and gave him to Zervan.

"Kalderan's clever, of course, but he's very..." Medea snapped her fingers, trying to find a way to phrase it. "Too sly at times. Doesn't always see the obvious things in time."

"Yes, he has that disadvantage. The specifics of his chosen occupation," Celesta agreed dryly. "Anyway, Gurban-ogoon told Zervan about the Seven Rivers, answered his questions, and told him how the risens lived there. At some point, Zervan realized that he liked those customs and wanted to live the same way. To walk among the people without hiding. To kill anyone who didn't like it. To accept sacrifices from babies and young girls who dropped blood for the first time. Openly rule tribes, not just cultists. To go camping, to amuse themselves by torturing enemies. Or just mortals encountered along the way."

"You know, back in my world," Celesta shook her head vaguely, "there was such a concept as 'temptation'. Demons were thought to push people into sin so that when they died, they could get their souls."

"Pushing?" Medea wondered. "It's a strange concept."

"Any faith is illogical. Well, I would say that the Zervan did not withstand the temptation. Too much of what he heard coincided with his inner dreams."

Celesta tried not to remember her past life before she was born into the undead. It had been, and it had been, so why should she trouble herself? She just used the knowledge. For her part, Medea did not often ask her sister about the past either, though she was always eager to catch a glimpse of a world without magic, where they did not believe in gods. The singer feared that Celesta might one day want to go back there - and she would.

"It's not your fault," she said quietly, trying to comfort. "Everyone chooses for themselves, remember?"

"I missed the situation, didn't notice when he changed. I should have controlled him more tightly. And if the seal hadn't finally settled six months ago, what would we have done? Quite possibly the Guardsmen would have lost a quarter of their ranks. Or if Zervan had been smarter and figured out to cut off the link to me? We could have searched for decades."

"His greed wouldn't have let him," Medea snorted. "Anyway, it happened the way it happened, and stop worrying. It's all over now."

"Nothing's over," there was a clang of metal in Celesta's voice that made her sister stiffen in surprise. "We've got to get rid of the Seven Rivers. We don't need a pustule in our backyard."

"What can we do about it? He lies beyond the steppe, we can't reach him with our strength."

"I don't know yet," agreed the little mistress. "I will think about it. But I firmly believe that the existence of a risens culture, built on principles opposed to our own, is a serious threat. They must be destroyed for our own safety."

"Not right now, I hope?" Medea stretched out in a capricious tone. "I have a production at the Royal Opera House, and I don't want to be distracted."

"I'll wait until you're finished," Celesta finally smiled.

During the journey to Zonna she returned to her usual balanced state and reconciled herself to what had happened. Especially since things were not as bad as the mistress initially thought. Zervan's actions, judging from the spy reports, had not affected the loyalty of the cultists, something she feared most. The loss of much of the control of the criminal gangs is unpleasant, but not fatal. Of course, they bring in a lot of money, but they cause more headaches. Kalderan will pick up the most useful pieces of information, but the smugglers have long been under the thumb of Gardomann's structures. In addition to the elders, there are still some of Zervan's former associates who did not go with him - out of fear or loyalty, we must see. The oldest among them seems to be Alat, so he will take care of the gradual "streamlining" of the social bottom.

For the great, no joke, magician Hustin, the destruction of the Taleya Academy, the flight of the staff to Zonna, and the transition to an illegal regime had one unmistakable advantage. He could now do whatever he wanted and determine his research topics. As a vampire, before he was "under the hood" of the secret services, from which even the intercession of his mentor could not save him, and the topics of his research had to be coordinated with various authorities, including religious ones.

The top of the risens community had long sought ways to improve their own abilities, and Hustin was no exception in this matter. Thanks to Celesta's support, he interviewed all vampires over a hundred years old in a relatively short time, processed the material, and formulated the concept of Paths, linking magic, physiology, and psychology. In short: a risens abilities are related to what he is interested in, and what path he prefers to follow. Or, to quote the lofty language, your skills are your essence.

The Paths of the Warrior assumes high speed, above-average body strength, improved coordination, and direct magical skills. Fire, shield, skin strengthening, and the like. The Paths of Art deal more with social skills and focus on communicating with people, understanding their psychology, and indirectly controlling them. The Paths of the Beast appeal more to the darker sides of human nature, not evil, but savage, primitive. Those who follow the Paths of the Beast are always very strong physically, have great resistance to any external influences, but easily succumb to thirst and experience serious difficulties with self-control. They die more often than others and become elders less often.

The proportions are about equal; in the youngest age, before the transition to the second step, on average, three of the ten vampires belong to each of the main groups. The remainder, that is, one out of ten follows an unconventional Path. The path of Magic, like Hustin himself, Spirit, like Celeste, or Mysticism, like Merck, the Mistress's assistant in charge of working with cultists. And then there was Egard. Egard, whom the Elder and Mage disliked because he ruined his conception.

The only risen without any distinctive abilities. Equally good at everything. In other words, just above average.

Once it was Egard who Celesta had sent to Zonna with Medea, and she had never regretted that decision. She was well aware of her friend's erratic nature, so she chose her "nursemaid" meticulously. Egard did not fail, although at times he complained and asked to the hermitage, to the desert - anywhere, as long as far away from the direct superiors. The Night Mistress calmed him down, gave his little sister a scolding, and everything was back to normal.

Without seeming to show it, Medea appreciated the helper. Otherwise, she wouldn't have gone to the trouble of spending an insane amount of resources to make him the Abbot of the Temple of the Lord of Darkness.

"Impressive," Celesta admitted. "I've seen the temple in a pilgrim's memory, but it makes a different impression up close."

She purposely ordered the wagon to stop on the far side of the square to assess the building from afar. It must be said that she liked what she saw. The black monolith, flashing in places with white marble inlays, seemed the visual embodiment of frankly heavy power. Nothing superfluous, no ornamentation. The sight of it made it clear at once that there was no point in begging the local master for mercy.

"In my time I had to work hard to translate into stone what I wanted and at the same time to comply with the canon," Medea looked at her brainchild with pride. "You should know how I argued with the architects!"

"It's amazing how you got them to participate in the project."

"Оh!" A sly smile crossed the elder's lips. "There was no problem with that."

While her friend was reminiscing, Celesta looked around the semi-deserted square (life in Zonna had never stopped, but it was late), threw her hood over her head, and walked toward the building. The rain didn't bother her, just a drizzle that got into her eyes and irritated her a little.

The young man in the dark robe with the Academy's badge pinned on it, who was leaving the temple, recoiled from her as if he'd seen a ghost. He glanced at the small group of four - no matter how loose local morals were, the two noble ladies could not walk without bodyguards - and shook his head and, muttering something inaudible under his breath, hurried away. He must have mistaken her for someone he knew.

When Celeste stepped on the first step of the stairs leading up to the temple, a cool wave ran up and down her body. It felt good, not unlike the scalding touch of energy in places dedicated to the Light Gods. An aspect close to the risen is prayed to here. When a vampire lives in the temple of Morvan or the land dedicated to him, they become a little stronger, more easily endure bloodlust and sunlight, and their wounds heal faster if they are wounded. Medea took advantage of the latter property, and with Hustin's help created the Hall of Flesh, the world's only institution for the cosmetic surgery of the living dead.

Celesta, while acknowledging the need for such a clinic, was still in mild shock.

The central figure, able to use all the resources of the cult building, is the Abbot. Under the protection of his walls, he is many times more powerful than anywhere else. Old abbots literally become attached to temples or monasteries, treating them as if they were part of their bodies. Egard had held rites of veneration at the altar for nearly two hundred years, and he sensed the presence of his kin at once.

"Mistress Celesta!" The vampire came out quickly, almost running out of the passageway leading to the inner chambers. "What a joy to see you! I'd heard you'd left Taleya, but I didn't expect your arrival so soon!"

"So you're not happy to see me?" Medea asked in a low voice.

"I am certainly glad, my lady, but we said goodbye to you only a short time ago."

"Hello, Egard," Celesta stopped the banter from escalating. "I really didn't intend to go to Zonna; the decision to come here was spontaneous."

"So the guardsmen are accompanying you," the risen nodded. "Messen Latham could at least have informed me of your visit!"

"I told him not to say anything - I wanted to see how you were settling in, without too much agitation. And, of course, I decided to start with the Temple. Can you show me around?"

"Of course, Mistress. Follow me, please."

The symbol of Morvan is a black cross with a white dot in the middle. The cross bars are equal in length and are divided at the ends, symbolizing one of the eight hypostases, each, in turn, manifests itself in a thousand countenances. And the hypostases are considered fully self-sufficient, they were in former times put by individual monasteries and carefully thought out the composition of the entourage and job duties. The goddess Celesta was considered the bride of the third of the hypostases, Morvan the Curser.

The Night Mistress knew the intricacies of the cult very well since the cultists worshipped her as an avatar of the goddess. It was a very convenient status, allowing for a lot of things. She rarely took part in services herself, though - she had a bad experience in the past, after which Medea and Hгstin almost grabbed her by the arms, dissuading her from taking part in rituals.

Anyway, Celesta assessed the interior of the temple from the position of a knowledgeable person, and she liked what she saw. Nothing superfluous, and at the same time - the canon was followed thoroughly, to the last detail. There were no hues of green or yellow in the decoration, living flames burned in front of the statues in the lamps, and frescoes portrayed images of tortured sinners or the deeds of the Dark One's champions. The square stone columns that divided the central hall into three sections were lined with dark red granite and bore no trace of decoration. On the floor, the decorators had laid out sacred texts describing the concept of a deity in mosaics. The parishioners hardly read them, but rather mistook them for abstract patterns, as the number of experts in the highest vernacular grew fewer and fewer with each passing year.

To the right and left of the massive cross, two human-sized statues of the younger deities were placed. Celeste approached the third on the left, a girl of about sixteen, seated on a disproportionately large throne of white marble. The goddess looked like an ordinary human teenager, without the slightest sign of a supernatural being, even her dress was plain, albeit well tailored. A hood covered the top of her face, leaving only her tightly pressed lips in view; her bare feet touched the foot of the throne with the tips of her toes. In her lap lay two bouquets - a stone one, dead, and a live one.

"Asphodelus?"

"The students of the Academy have an omen that if you give the goddess a bunch of Asphodelus, you'll get a good ticket for the exam," Egard explained. "I don't mind."

"Your work?" Celesta glanced at her friend, who answered with the pure, honest look of a creature who knew no lies. "I see."

She once told Medea that in her world the Asphodelus was considered a symbol of death and oblivion. The beautiful girl did not forget the story and later started a rumor that Celesta liked these flowers, which gradually turned into an informal personal emblem. Officially it was never used anywhere, but guardsmen, for example, often decorated their armor with it.

"This is the first time I've been able to look at it without hurrying," the Mistress said as she walked around the statue in a circle. "Ceysan was a genius, after all. What happened to him?"

"We tell everyone that he stabbed himself with a dagger in front of your image, realizing that nothing greater he could do," Egard answered calmly, ignoring the forbidding signs of the direct superior. "But he did drown in the latrine when he was drunk."

"Creative people, they are," Celesta agreed, exchanging understanding glances with the Abbot. "Unpredictable. You know, he used to praise me immensely, call me his best model. He complained that the others couldn't sit still for ten minutes."

"He was immensely talented!" Medea stood up for the long-dead favorite. "There is no one like him, not now."

"I'm not arguing. I'm just not sure that statue belongs here. Don't you feel anything strange?" Mistress turned to Egard.

He concentrated on his internal sensations, then shook his head negatively.

"No, Mistress."

"The workshop where Soldowiec worked was in the area of the Tyran Curse. The statue had stood there for fifty years. Then Medea visited her former home and moved some memorabilia, including the sculpture collection, to Zonna. For what reason you decided to install the statue in the temple, I don't know, but the fact remains that rituals were performed over it, and for two hundred years believers have been praying in front of it. And most of them directly associate the image with me. Shall I go on?"

"You feel a connection," Medea suggested with an assertive tone.

"Exactly. A thin thread, which, nevertheless, is there."

"I don't think there's anything wrong with the connection," Egard was the first to break the hovering silence. "On the contrary. After you return to Taleya, it will be easier for us to communicate, using the statue as a focal point. As for the possibility of harm... As you said, the channel's narrow, so it's not going to be able to do much damage. In an extreme case, you'll just tear it apart."

"It's better not to take it to the extreme," Celesta grumbled. "You're right. There's no hurry. As long as there's no danger, we won't move the statue. They wouldn't steal it, would they? Speaking of which, about the possibility of theft. What's your relationship with the light priests, do they bother you much? Do they have a lot of incidents?"

"On the whole, our relations are even, Mistress... Shall we go to the lower chambers? We can talk more comfortably there."

"As you say, Egard. Lead on."

There were many gods, doctrines of the divine, and as a consequence, various kinds of religious organizations in the expanses of the kingdom. The lion's share came from before the catastrophe and was directly or indirectly related to the ancient Salvian pantheon, the beliefs of the people who created what later became the great Taleya. Of course, the Dark Ages and the gigantic human losses greatly affected theological thought, and now even the monastic orders, rightly claiming the continuity of tradition, interpreted their scriptures differently than they did before the Plague. In addition, new doctrines arose, preachers came from neighboring countries, and churches split over theological (and not just theological) differences, resulting in a motley mix of coexisting religions.

The coexistence of sometimes diametrically opposed teachings was not always peaceful. In the first centuries of the Dark Ages, various destructive cults posed almost the main danger to a weak state, even greater than the proliferation of monsters, famine, and disease. Thanks largely to the cultists, the risens had an official "roof" - the security services needed someone capable of controlling the madmen, and intelligent, cooperative undead suited that role best. The vampires did even better than their handlers expected because seven centuries later Celesta's authority among the worshippers of the darkness was unshakable. The doubters and the completely insane were gradually purged, and those who remained served as a layer between human society and their undead masters.

The actions of Irrhan the Pious, or, in people's memory, Irrhan the Fool, led not only to civil war. The schism occurred in the religious sphere as well. Teachings deemed "untrustworthy" by the official authorities were forced to flee south; those remaining loyal to the Taleya throne quickly fled to the north. Two decades later, tensions eased slightly, and the fugitives were allowed to return, some even getting their confiscated estates back, but not all took advantage of the opportunity. Since then, the division remained. Celesta was amused by the fact that the central monasteries of the most intolerant organizations, such as the Marr's Arms or the Yellow Society, were located in Taleya and had to see the consequences of their predecessors' actions daily. The temples of Blue Ang and the Sun, which had provoked Tyran to perform that insane ritual, had lost all significant hierarchs on the day of the Academy's assault and had effectively ceased to exist.

In contrast, many cults preaching the idea of equilibrium found refuge in Zonna. It was historically true that Prince Kono's successors deliberately prevented religious movements from intensifying, limiting their interference in politics. The lords of Blueness were more than satisfied with the rivalry of many monasteries, temples, and cults, and they willingly granted permission to preach to all religions, except the blatantly black ones. Although, of course, the legal registration of the "Society of Virtuous Servants of the Lord of Justice," as the cult led by Egard was officially called, shocked even the local nihilists. But that's okay, they ate it up and eventually began to take pride in exoticism.

Medea never admitted how much money she had to spend on bribes or how many dignitaries she had seduced.

To everyone's delight, dual power flourished in the Zonna community. The Elder glittered in the society of mortals, scheming, meddling in politics, patronizing singers and artists, doing obscure things with the secret service, and generally enjoying her after-life to the fullest. Her first deputy did the day-to-day work and carried God's word (in this particular case, rather Celesta's) to the masses. Medea was the captain of the ship, Egard her first officer. During the voyage to the Land of the Blueness, the former had enlightened her friend on her line of work. Celesta now had a pretty good idea of what was going on in the highest circles of the state. Now it was Abbot's turn to explain the intricacies of mutual wrangling among the priesthood.

"One moment, Mistress," Egard pressed two unremarkable spots on the wall, and the massive slab of floor lifted, revealing a passage into the underground part of the temple. "Please."

True to their habit of burying themselves wherever they could, the vampires were faithful to themselves here as well. There were no catacombs like Taleya's in Zonna, so they built secret vaults, ritual halls, and sleeping chambers of their own, taking the utmost precautions.

"We bought seven houses in the neighborhood and connected them to the middle floors of the underground," the Abbot said. "It's safer that way. The congregation doesn't have to openly visit the temple, and mortals can also come to services or reports without attracting unnecessary attention. There is a disadvantage, though, in that we have to renew often the protection against magical searches on the walls."

"Are you monitored a lot?"

"All the time. To be fair, the scrutiny is mild, one might say formal. The Royal Vigilantes are interested in whether we sacrifice more often than we should, and the hostile temples are more indicative of watching us than anything else."

"Do the authorities know about human sacrifice and don't mind?"

"We quite officially get criminals in prisons," Egard shrugged without turning around. "They'll be executed anyway. Everyone knows that the Lord of Darkness doesn't accept pure souls, so there' no complaints on that score."

"I think I'm getting jealous," sighed Celesta. "How many floors are there?"

"Five, Messena. Three people know for sure, the fourth is suspected, the fifth is the location of the clinic."

"Are there any patients there now? I've been wanting to see how you do your surgeries for a long time."

"Not at the moment, but if you stay a couple of days, there's a young risen from Kinik coming in. He got into a bad fight with a ghostly scorpion and hurt his arm. My colleagues and I will try to straighten out his threads."

Celeste nodded understandingly. Fights with mages or creatures that used magic to attack were particularly dangerous for the undead since they affected the energy component of the non-dead body. Simply put, if you cut off a hand with an ordinary sword, it would regenerate after a while. The speed of recovery depended on the age, the Path, the presence of blood, and the place of rest, other factors also influenced, were less significant, but the result was always the same. It was different when the same sword came out of the hands of a master artifactor. Regeneration could have weakened or stopped altogether, or gone the wrong way, growing stumps unable to bend instead of fingers.

Vampires often fought with various magical creatures and, naturally, received wounds. Up to a certain point Celesta, too, wore the marks of battle, unable to get rid of them and only glad that her face was intact. Medea was more fastidious in this matter - she was irritated by the slightest imperfection of appearance, even if it was hidden by clothes. So she pounced on Hustin and his mentor at the first opportunity, demanding that they devise a method of removing the scars. The magicians resisted for a short time, because, firstly, the task was fully within their research, and, secondly, a beautiful woman is a beautiful woman, and it's hard to argue with her.

Vampire medicine evolved over the centuries and was always purely practical. There were few specialists in it. The overall small number of the undead was a factor, and the need for their services was rare. Many were able to heal minor injuries, and almost all of the elders had been trained to remove scars or minor curses. In the case of serious injuries, the wounded would either die a final death on the spot or be sent to a place where they could be helped.

The increase in the number of skilled artifactors and priests that has happened in the last three hundred years has complicated the situation. The answer to the challenge was the founding of the Hall of Flesh, another idea of Medea's, embodied by the genius of her former apprentice and, at times, lover. The Hall was originally created to correct the appearance of overly wanted vampires but later evolved into a full-fledged central hospital for the community, treating everything but mental illness. Celesta tried to fight the latter, and sometimes she even succeeded.

Egard's office was on the second floor from above, where the abbot led the dear guests. Medea's silent bodyguards stayed in the small hallway so as not to disturb the conversation. The second most important risen of the city was simply but thoroughly comfortable (the Mistress had long noted his habit of a sort of ascetic comfort), with three armchairs in the room, one for the master and guests, a table, a sturdy cabinet full of books and scrolls, a pair of oil lamps, and a beverage stand in the corner. The vampires did not eat solid food, but they drank heavily, often, and with pleasure.

The Abbot ran his hand along the wall, causing the chain of symbols to flare up and slowly fade away. Now no one would be able to overhear the conversation in the room.

"The alchemists of the Society of Earthly Gifts recently discovered a funny herb," Egard said, offering cups of wine to his companions. "It grows somewhere in Azar. It does not affect humans, but its taste makes us sick to our stomachs. I ordered me to get a sample as soon as possible."

"There was no trouble," Medea grimaced. "Not only are they always trying to pour consecrated wine, but now this!"

Celesta remembered the information, asking aloud about other things:

"Do alchemists have their own society?"

"There are several of them, Mistress," the host explained as he sat down at the table. "Not so much the Orders, but the Production Companies. They make different quality compounds for sale and compete frantically for lucrative customers. They don't train. Or rather, their libraries are open to their own, and masters are required to train apprentices, but in fact, no one really bothers."

"Our agents?"

"Two, in different societies. It would be more if I had a pool of mages available. Mistress, could you send at least a dozen more? I'm short of men."

"There isn't anyone. The Guild of the Dark is not as numerous as we would like it to be," Celesta said regretfully.

"Pity. We try to recruit Academy students, but they are all under special supervision. It's hard to work."

In contrast to its ruined predecessor, the Academy of Magic of Zonna was an educational institution that taught mages. Of course, the nobles who went there also took classes in other important disciplines, including etiquette, literature, fencing, and horseback riding, but on a residual basis. The state needed wizards for the army and civil services, and everything deemed unnecessary was gradually eliminated from the program. Also, the State regarded the graduates as its own resource, not wanting to share them with anyone else.

"You can tell me about the mages later, but right now I'm more interested in the priests. What are the largest and most influential orders?"

"A difficult question, Mistress," Egard said in thought. "There's no quick answer. The most influential, of course, is the Derkana cult because it is led by a Sovereign, but there are few sincere believers."

"Perhaps we should start with believers. Most of the population is made up of peasants, who have it simple. They have a headman or an official in Derkan's service; a priest is invited from the nearest monastery on special occasions once a year; at other times, they pray to ancestors, local deities, or some forest spirits, and anyone can be included in the latter category. If the village is close to the road, or if the men go to town to work, pilgrims, preachers, wandering monks, and the like will sometimes appear. External factors, the influence of which, in general, is small. The townspeople are a different matter. They have much more free time to think about high things, and there is money to donate to the temple they like. This is why religious life in the cities is boiling, there are many currents and they are different."

Another thing that should be mentioned is monastic lands. The government does not approve of large land holdings in the hands of the priests and tries to limit their size, usually, one cult has one monastery. There may be many chapels, shrines, and temples in cities, but only one monastery. Exceptions are rare and are somehow tied to the Court parties.

"Our consistent enemies are sects and movements closely associated with Taleya. The Saints of Fire, the Society of Celestial Purity, the Triad of Correctness - these can be called branches whose governing centers are located beyond the northern borders. They support courtiers who advocate rapprochement with the Taleyan kingdom. Of the "irreconcilables," only the Warriors of the Wolf God are of purely local origin, but they, despite their wealth, have a reputation for being rude and slightly crazy. So it would be correct to say that when relations between the two branches of the Dinir dynasty are warming, things are going badly, and when they are quarreling, on the contrary, it's good for us.".

Next comes a motley and numerous crowd of neutrals. We have no allies there, no outright enemies either. The attitude depends on a mass of factors, ranging from the personality of the head of the cult to the price of salt on the market. They will not make a serious effort to make a mess, and at the same time, they may or may not take the chance. They are dependent on the various factions at court, and in turn, patronize certain individuals. Two noteworthy orders are the Eternal Wheel of Law and the Children of the Unborn Mother. The first has the sympathy of several members of the Royal Family, so the legalists are allowed a little more than the others. For example, they have five monasteries. The latter has long been a court sect of the appanage princes of Barbashia, and their influence in the west of the country is extremely great.

The next group can be tentatively called "unusual" to distinguish separately. The Higher Moral Society, for example, urges belief in any gods and to do any deeds, as long as they ultimately lead to good. Quite a popular doctrine among merchants. Their opponents in the League of Law claim that only consistent observance of rituals and state laws will lead to prosperity, they mostly worship ancestral spirits. They rely on the middle officialdom. We have normal relations with both of them, and they consider the risen as part of society, though with different philosophical justifications.

Our special attention is directed to the Red Sands Doctrine; it came to us from the Azarians and still serves their interests. The Vigilantes are watching them, too. As a consequence, when the kingdom is at peace with the Sultanate, the sect is awash in money from abroad, and when war breaks out, the leaders' heads stick out at the stake. We can't work closely with them because of the dissatisfaction with the secret services and the high probability of provocation. Nevertheless, there are certain contacts, and they are even useful. There are no other influential exercises with foreign roots in the country. Our inhabitants consider themselves direct descendants of the ancients, who have preserved the culture and customs of a past era; other peoples are no more than barbarians to them. Hence the disdain for everything that comes from abroad.

Mistress, I just listed the biggest cults and doctrines. There are all kinds, sometimes quite exotic. "The Finger Guides to Truth," with their orgies and obligatory deflowering of girls at age thirteen. The ritual cannibalism of the "Eternal Renaissance". The spiritual practices of the "Way of Late Heaven", after which not every follower stays sane. And keep in mind - every month the clerks of the Spiritual Order register new associations and cross off the lists of the old ones that have done something wrong in front of the authorities."

"In other words, in ten years, the current influential players may disappear altogether."

"That's it, Mistress."

"Is it possible that the system will change fundamentally? Will they introduce some kind of monotheism or, say, declare undesirable all those who are not related to the ancient Sylvian pantheon?"

Egard pondered, and slowly shook his head:

"It's unlikely, Mistress. Of course, the concept changes slightly with each successive ruler, but no fundamental changes have been made since the days of Konir. And why should it? The dynasty benefits from the current state of affairs."

"As if it can't be changed," said Celesta calmly.

Egard froze. He had no memory of the Old World, of the time before the Plague, his whole life and post-life had been under Dinir the Great and Dinir's descendants. To the risen, the very idea that someone from a different dynasty of rulers might be on the throne was revolutionary, out of step with his mind. If anyone else had suggested it, he would have shouted, "Impossible!" But the little vampiress sitting in front of him made the first impulse go away.

Medea laughed softly. She had long ago developed immunity to her friend's crazy ideas, and the helper's bewildered look was amusing.

"Relax, Egard," Celesta waved her hand. "I'm not planning anything like that. I just want to remind you to consider all your options. You've got to think more flexibly. As you get older, you get used to thinking in patterns, and that's bound to lead you into a trap in our circumstances."

"I'll...remember, Messena."

"That's fine. Actually, the problem is serious," she turned to Medea. "I've been noticing for a long time that many of our elders get lost in unconventional situations, and act insecure. We should do something, some tests, or something to come up with..."

"I'd love to participate!" her sister's eyes sparkled. "I'd love to!"

"But that's for later," she returned to the previous topic. "Right now I don't understand people's attitude toward us. To the temple of Morvan, I mean; we'll talk about the risen kind separately."

"We are supported by the mages, and therefore by the petty nobility, Mistress. The goddess Celesta has recently been considered the patroness of magic, though the canons are silent on the subject," Egard smiled. "She has been for four hundred years. The palace aristocracy, through the efforts of the Messena as a whole, does not attempt to get rid of the temple, though individuals are, of course, our consistent enemies. The aristocrats are in no hurry to help and donate, mostly ignoring us. The common people try to stay away, but on the whole, the Lord of Hell has a reputation as a harsh and fair god, so in a time of need they can stop by and pray."

"Is there any chance that tomorrow or the day after tomorrow the authorities will decide to close the temple? How stable is our position?"

"Quite resilient. Mistress, as long as we don't pose a threat to the upper classes, we won't be touched. And we act very carefully," the abbot assured Celesta. "So, if nothing changes, there's no reason to worry."

The mask of the decent girl cracked, and her hard-willed essence peeked out coldly from the rift. With a grin that made her features look menacing, the vampire mistress promised:

"It's bound to change, Egard. I don't know what it is yet, but it will change."

* * *