Chapter 7

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Sattar hadn't changed his place of residence since Celesta's last visit to the city, that is, almost four hundred years. The mansion, on paper belonging to a family of large merchants, had been rebuilt three times. They had managed to buy some land next door, expanding the lot, but nothing had changed in principle in the intervening years. There was no real reason to do so. The authorities did not try to destroy the head of the local community, so he saw no point in hiding.

Mistress caught herself again thinking that, in terms of flexibility of thought, age is not always a blessing. A long period of living by established rules leads to habits that one does not want to change at all. Risens' mind "becomes ossified", loses the ability to react quickly to the changing situation, and cannot cope with the challenges thrown up by hasty mortals. The result is a second death, this time final.

The recipe for the cure has long been known and consists of a total change of scenery, in that notorious exit from the comfort zone, which psychologists in her former world liked to talk about. Or psychiatrists? Doesn't matter. If need be, she will reach into the depths of her memory and remember. The main thing is that it is not clear how to use the mentioned method, because it is impossible to just take the same Sattar and send him to serve as a guardsman. No one would understand such a trick. So it'll take a long time to explain, do research, collect statistics, to find ways that don't look like punishment or humiliation... The undead has their conventions, too, and they must always be taken into account. You can't hurt servants without a reason, especially ones who can get their revenge after five hundred years.

In addition, good managers are always scarce. Before sending the head of the tiniest community for "re-training," one should think hard about who to put in his position. It usually turns out that there is no one.

Well, okay. They're waiting for her. She'll consult with Medea later, as long as she doesn't forget.

"The prisoner is ready, Mistress," Sattar told Celeste after a final check of the body tied to the massive stone table.

They were in a large, long basement beneath the mansion, with more than fifteen meters between the Mistress and her vassal. A man would have been forced either to shout or to move closer to make his words heard. Sattar made do with simply turning his body toward his interlocutor and bowing lightly since vampire etiquette allowed such liberties.

"I wanted to ask you, Sattar," the lady approached the table. "That vampire you sent to Taleya, Gurban-ogun. How did he appear? Why was he not executed at once?"

"Clever, cunning," the risen replied without hesitation. "Not too strong, the sun burned him. Not bad at primitive magic, close to the Path of Art, got past the border forts without disturbing the sensors. The Guild spotted him only here, informed us at once. They did not execute him because he had done nothing wrong. Then a request came from Kalderan for a guide, preferably versed in the realities of Seven Rivers. I thought about it and decided to send him - it is still unclear what to do with him."

"Kalderan didn't know you had a prisoner?"

"We didn't tell him. I don't think he knew - there were literally days between the capture and the request."

That, of course, means nothing, but it removes some of the suspicions from the elder. Mistress was uncomfortable with the fact that Kalderan was the only beneficiary of Zervan's betrayal - his department had taken over the control of some of the gangs. In addition, he and the deceased were not friends, because of Zervan's hordes disrupted important operations, which the spy took close to his heart. And his heart is dead but very sensitive.

The question was whether he could have devised such a cunning plan to eliminate the enemy. Celesta admitted honestly to herself that she would have eliminated the nuisance if she had had to. With someone else's hands, making it look like she wasn't involved.

"I see. What do you think of this one?" She nodded at the crucified, gawking body.

"A common risen from the Seven Rivers, Mistress. He was in the retinue of the Master of the Night, grew up to be a senior, and decided to become the Master himself. He lost, but by some miracle, he survived. He heard about the rich life in the East, so he decided to come here. He has no strength or intelligence, otherwise, he would not have behaved as he did in his homeland and we would not have caught him so quickly," Sattar sighed. "Mistress, they're disgustingly identical.."

"Doesn't your natural Salvian snobbery speak to you?"

"Alas, Messena, my opinion is supported by sad personal experience. Exceptions are rare."

Considering that Sattar's rule over the nocturnal Lascaris came after his predecessor was killed by the same outsiders and that he was the only undead of the city at the time (three more came later), it was worth trusting his conclusions. He knew his way around the subject.

There were now a total of five risens in the cellar - the prisoner, Celesta, Sattar, and two guardsmen. Latham went to pay his visits, taking a promise from the petite mistress not to get involved in anything. Normally, though he regarded his duties as chief of security zealously, he worried less. It was just that it had been a long time since Mistress Taleyaa had last left her personal domain, and her number of enemies had increased. And, frankly, the guardsmen had become somewhat unaccustomed to guarding her outside her familiar territory, so they were now afraid of making a mistake.

From the outside, the "gutting" of the stranger looked uncomplicated and easy. Mistress hovered over the interrogator, wrapping her arms comfortably around his head and looking intently into his eyes, with three assistants standing nearby, not so much for backup as for reassurance. Breaking the will of an untrained risen, moreover, prepared beforehand by torture and thirst, is not the same as having a mental duel with an elder. Celesta simply swept away resistance, locked the prisoner's personality in a far corner of his mind, and began to quietly study the memory.

It took her half an hour to find the answers.

The picture of life in the Seven Rivers looked unattractive. Up to a certain point, the local mortal - tribes of hunters, gatherers and plowmen, descendants of a degraded civilization - and the undead coexisted relatively peacefully. Each tribe was under the influence of one faction of the risens, the strongest of whom was called the Master of the Night. Given that the risens were formerly of the same tribe and hadn't forgotten their kinship, they didn't slaughter the humans too much. Mortal, in turn, did not bother looking for the undead, reasonably believing that the wolves would be replaced by outsiders and it would get worse.

The equilibrium lasted a long time until several events coincided simultaneously. First, a large number of Elders appeared among the risens, an order of magnitude more powerful, who had moved on to the next stage in their development. Second, an epidemic came, the foraging base was greatly reduced, and some tribes died out completely. Cities disappeared, and primitive civilizations collapsed. War broke out between the Masters of the Night, which resulted in the extermination of some of the risens who were determined to coexist with humans, and the winners began to rule directly.

The captive did not know the details of the conflict - the events took place before he was born. Celesta, however, was only interested in them to a certain extent. She was much more interested in finding out the realities of the Seven Rivers' society, their weak points, and whether she could count on peaceful interaction. She still had hope of avoiding conflict, though her intuition stubbornly told her that two bears couldn't live in one den.

"You were right about sameness," she remarked, pulling away from the cup she'd been served. "At least in terms of moral criteria."

Sattar managed to mimic, with one polite smile, a smug "I told you so"! The long interaction with the aristocrats had affected him greatly, teaching the former craftsman a great deal.

"Did Messena see something unpleasant?"

"Exactly. Unfortunately, they have their own culture. A savage, bloody, inhuman, but full-fledged culture. We will have to destroy all of its bearers, because they will not want to assimilate, and we will not be able to live next to them."

Celesta was well aware that if vampires ever stopped balancing between human power groups, they would be crushed. The undead is allowed to exist as long as the benefits they bring outweigh the harm they cause. As long as they do not try to break the rules. Otherwise...

One day, Mistress tried to calculate the consequences of a conflict with the Order of Fire Saints, one of Taleya's three largest religious associations, just for the sake of interest. The result was unpleasant. Given the neutrality of the rest of the human structures, the risens would destroy the Order, but they would also suffer significant losses themselves. In fact, the unified community would disappear and be fragmented into many small fragments, with most of the survivors being located abroad.

Now the rulers of humans are convinced that vampires can be talked to and negotiated. Yes, monsters, but monsters that are reasonable, sane, and comfortable. A close acquaintance with the Seven Rivers can break the established opinion, and give an extra trump card in the hands of irreconcilable opponents of the reasonable undead. Such a scenario should not be allowed.

"Finish up here," she ordered, heading for the exit. "I don't need him anymore."

All in all, Mistress spent a week in Lascaris.

Some decisions can only be made by the supreme ruler, they are too global. Sattar, for example, had constant disputes with Gardoman, the two influential risens complaining about each other, making intrigues, sometimes it came to the clash of subordinate structures. Money is money, it will quarrel with anyone. Celesta had to intervene and manually divorce the disputants. This could not go on like this, it was necessary to clearly delineate areas of responsibility and for that, she had to personally come to town and deal with it on the spot. Neither reports nor long negotiations through the mirror gave an absolute guarantee of the correctness of the picture.

Until recently, Celeste had been limited in her movements. Now, apparently, she'll have to make up for lost time and go around the countryside. Sooner or later information will leak out, people will know that Mistress of Taleya has been allowed to leave her city. Where this will lead is unclear. So far, the vampires have managed to keep the secret, but no one can say how long the shroud of neglected rumors will last.

Latham successfully drew attention to himself. His position as the right hand and the Mistress's chastening sword were well known, his actions closely watched, and the commotion among the vampires of the city attributed to his arrival. All the more so because the Elder did not sit idly by. He visited noble families, negotiated with leaders of large trading houses, and conferred at length with ducal "bringers of answers". It sounds strange, but his appearance was usually welcomed.

The vampires did not change their tradition and continued to hunt monsters. Whichever way you look at it, it's a useful occupation. The carcasses were dismantled into ingredients and sold in pieces, bringing a good income even without taking into account the reward from the customer. In addition to the money, a positive reputation was gained, and people began to see the undead as possible defenders from a more terrible danger. Finally, a job well done was not only a job but also a service that could be bragged about in a small circle and that could be counted on in the future. Connections useful to the community emerged.

The Guard took the most difficult orders. Mortals refused them, failed in their attempts, or demanded so much that it was easier to suffer regular losses in the form of devoured peasants. The vampires were doing fine, and they didn't charge that much. So Latham's visit was associated with solving problems, which was valuable in itself and paid dividends in the most unexpected ways.

Mindful of recent events, the captain saw fit to bring up the subject of outsiders. At one time Celesta spent several evenings talking about the manipulation of public opinion and the preparation of serious changes in the life of society, explaining the reasons for some of her actions. How she got her knowledge of very specific areas of science and why the terminology used had never occurred to him before, Latham did not ask, but he remembered the lecture carefully. So he began to prepare a "positive background" for a possible discussion about the Holy Crusade well in advance.

"You need not worry about my imminent departure. We will fulfill our obligations in full, High Noble Varrhid. Moreover, I may have to transfer a unit of my subordinates to Lascaris on a permanent basis."

His interlocutor, one of the senior security officers of the ruler of the city, raised his eyebrows in surprise. By virtue of his position, Mr. Varrhid was aware of the capabilities of the Five Guardsmen and did not see the tasks worthy of the presence of these seasoned fighters. What are they being reassigned for, then?

"May I know the reasons that led the Blessed One to do this?"

"A decision has not yet been made. Mr. Sattar is managing with his forces, but if the trend continues, he will need reinforcements," the aristocrat clarified. "What do you know about the situation in the Seven Rivers?"

"Only that your kinsmen live there, which causes serious difficulties for the wagons passing by."

"Don't put me next to those animals," Latham cut off in an icy tone. "To compare us would be like calling you the likeness of some steppe bandit, banished from his clan!"

"Excuse me," the spy bowed quickly. "In no way did I intend to offend the Blessed One."

With a faint nod, the captain accepted the apology.

"Lately, savages have come from there, disgusted by their actions and way of thinking. They deserve to be cut into pieces and eaten by dogs, their deeds such that rebirth is impossible. They looked for trouble and found it. They have no offspring, and their ancestors groan when they look at them."

Considering the nuances of the Higher Speech, Messen Latham's speech was comparable to the worst swearing of the dockworkers. For a third of what was said, blood vengeance was declared on the whole clan. Varrhid, who came from a lower class, sat round-eyed - he knew that he was in fact witnessing a declaration of war.

"I apologize if I have struck a sensitive chord," the spy bowed again. "But did my predecessors point out that some outsiders from the steppe went to Taleya?"

"It happened rarely, but only a few were admitted to our society, and even then..." the aristocrat twitched his fingers in an indefinite gesture. "Nearly all of them did not appreciate the favor. They suffered a well-deserved punishment later."

"So," the spy stretched out, reassessing the inner politics of the vampires.

"Exactly. And the situation is getting worse and worse over time! If two hundred years ago we had at least some hope that the natives of the Seven Rivers were capable of rejecting their filthy customs and, having joined a higher culture, accepting ours, now it is obvious that trying to correct them is pointless! The language of force is the only one they understand."

"Just and admirable is the indignation of the Blessed One, but is the danger posed by the savages so great as to require the presence of the best warriors of the people of the Night?"

"Not at all," Latham twitched the corner of his mouth dismissively. "I don't rate them much as fighters, lots of strength and not much skill. It's just that some of them are good at hiding from detection, and it's a bit of a headache to catch them. Besides, their numbers are growing! You know little about the incidents connected with them, because we don't want to give our enemies any more trump cards. But, believe me, the situation is changing for the worse."

It was certain that the contents of the conversation would be on the desk of the head of the security service in the morning. Given the close attention to everything related to vampires, shortly, we could expect a surge of interest toward the Seven Rivers - interviews with merchants, negotiations with nomads, perhaps attempts to drop agents. Any stirring went to Celesta's advantage.

While her faithful servant was laying the first bricks in the building of the operation, the active phase of which would begin in twenty years, the Mistress herself was busy with routine work. Takes reports, review documents, read other people's letters, and occasionally writes herself. All kinds of paperwork carried a slight tinge of unreality for her - once upon a time, hiding in the sewers with Medea, she dreamed of how one day she would sit in a quiet office and not worry about tomorrow. The dream had, in a way, come true.

The plan she shared with her chosen companions gradually became more detailed. Homie made an important amendment. He, who was well versed in the relationship between Lascaris and the central government, suggested that the idea of the petition be abandoned, replacing it with permission. A very significant difference in terms of feudal institutions. The result seems to be the same, but in the second case the duke acted as an independent figure, taking care of the needs of the lower classes, there was no belittling of his honor.

At the moment, the plan was as follows: the large Trading Houses appeal to Lash with a respectful request to take care of their needs, in response to a tearful prayer he asks the king's permission to organize a campaign, and the central government agrees and appeals to the Martial Orders and the major cults to participate. No problems were foreseen with only the first phase, merchants to the hints received reacted with enthusiasm and even expressed their willingness to help... not too much, as long as the coin can withstand. Everything else, starting with convincing the Duke, had yet to be accomplished.

And it was impossible to concentrate solely on the organization of the campaign. The Secret State of Celeste had enough tensions that it was long overdue to get rid of them, or at least to weaken their influence on current processes, but it was not possible. They made do with conservation in the hope that it would just blow over. Sometimes the hope came true, sometimes, as in the case of Birat, it did not.

She would have loved to have stayed longer in Lascaris; there was still much in the city that she had not had time to see, to appreciate. Unfortunately, she had to return to Taleya. The capital demanded her presence. The Mistress hadn't shown her face to her subordinates for a long time, and little by little rumors of her disappearance began to emerge, quiet for now, but completely unnecessary. Pity. If she had the chance, she would have loved to go to Bardi, to see how the city had changed, and what the community there had accomplished under the joint rule of Gardoman and Hatsu. Alas, next time.

The writings of numerous thinkers, both religious and secular philosophical schools, directly linked the state of the ruler and the state he ruled. The rightful king was thought to sense the land, receive certain mystical signals from it, and be able to point out where his vassals should pay closer attention. Before the Plague, this assertion was constantly confirmed in practice; in the current era, the rituals were weaker and less effective. Though people remembered that after Taleya split into two in the Civil War, Irrhan was paralyzed below the waist for the rest of his life.

The state was considered the body of the ruler and the roads of the circulatory system. Therefore, negligence in repairing the largest tracts, and deliberately damaging or destroying bridges in the criminal code equated to an attempt on the reign and was punishable to the utmost severity. At court, there was the position of Minister of the Precious Eight Sides, responsible for the ways of communication, which gave considerable influence but was also demanding in the performance of its duties. It was more likely to be used as a scaffold than other ministries.

The roads in the kingdom were in exemplary condition, and travel on them was a pleasure. The only inconveniences were on the largest tracts, like the one connecting Lascaris and Taleya. The kingdom had not fought heavy wars in a long time, its domestic policy for the past fifty years had been stable, its officials stole moderately and as a result, the economy was growing. As a consequence, so was trade traffic. Despite the wide roadway, which allowed four carts in a row, there were sometimes very real traffic jams of merchant carts. The nobles, accustomed to moving quickly, became enraged and took the whips in such cases.

Experienced travelers knew the best places to get off the tract and take the secondary roads. Of course, there is only one lane, and the stone slabs are worse, but there is less traffic and the overall speed is higher.

Celeste's company was well versed in the nuances of the road, so they traveled quickly. They traveled by day. The risens, of course, would have preferred to travel at night, but they feared breaking the legs of their horses. Animals tolerant of the undead were expensive and had to be raised from childhood to override instinctive fear. Though to vampires walked the Paths of the Beast, they were much more relaxed without any domestication.

++No, Celeste pondered, rocking gently in the carriage, " we can't reduce the number of the Beast's followers. So what if they die a lot? Survivors are the best outside the cities, and the community needs them in case there's a serious conflict with the authorities. In general, it makes no sense to forbid anything. We need to strengthen control, to teach better... So, what is it?

Vampires perceive the world differently from humans. The colors seem dimmer, the taste is less intense, and the skin reacts less to touch. But hearing and smell become unusually sharp, and there is a "sense of life" - a kind of gut feeling that allows you to feel near living beings with hot blood. The latter, if desired and persistent, can be developed by expanding the sensory range several times over.

Celesta, by virtue of circumstances, has encountered the forces known to the priests as True Darkness and True Light more often than she would have liked. She had dealt with the former constantly for the past four hundred years, the latter she remembered well from her previous existence. Given the consequences of those encounters, she tried not to ignore the slightest traces of the manifestation of these forces. On the contrary, she watched them closely.

"Stop!" The mistress tapped on the front wall of the carriage.

As Celesta stepped out of the halted carriage, the mounted Latham immediately appeared.

"Messena?"

"Keep me company, Latham," she ordered as she "listened" to her surroundings. "I want to check something out."

Her instincts led her to a high hill that stood a fair distance from the road. Choosing a convenient path and mentally cursing the rags she wore to disguise herself, she headed for it. The dress was considered a traveling dress, that is, with a minimum of jewelry, but by the standards of a vampiress accustomed to very different clothes, it interfered greatly. Every time the fabric caught on a branch, she wanted to yank harder so that the lush lace would come off and not annoy her anymore. At home in Taleya, she wore a simple dress or a woman's hunting costume, or she pretended to be a boy, wearing pants and a short camisole.

Latham glided noiselessly beside her, followed, at a respectful distance, by Vantal's five boys. It was not long to walk. The path ended at the top of a hill, near a small monument half a man's height. It did not look well, as the once-white, equilateral cross showed traces of bird droppings, and bushes of rose hips grew around it, making it difficult to get closer. However, the bushes had been cut down in the spring or last year, otherwise, they would have been taller. And the path they took up the hill looked well-trodden.

In the center of the cross, almost washed away by the bad weather, a faint black dot could be seen.

"Wow," Celesta stopped a few paces away, looking at the monument. She looked at her silent companion. "Don't you feel anything?"

Latham took off his glove, extended his hand toward the cross, and waved his palm in the air.

"Echoes of Illiar's powers."

"Exactly," the Mistress tapped her lips thoughtfully, turning to the guardsmen, who had paused respectfully in the distance. "Vantal! There are some men about two hundred meters away. If they're natives, bring them here - I want to ask them some questions."

Two of the five separated from the others, quickly rushing to carry out the order. Their captain looked questioningly at his mistress:

"Does Messena expect to have a new meeting? The cross seems to have been set a long time ago."

"I'd just like to understand the circumstances under which it was placed," Celesta clarified. "And, of course, to learn more about the true priests. I'll tell you, I listen to them with the utmost attention."

"Do you really think they are to be feared?" Latham asked with obvious skepticism in his voice.

Mistress laughed:

"No, of course not! As far as I can tell, our interests lie on completely different planes and hardly overlap. I'm just insanely curious. After all, am I entitled to a little hobby in the form of solving the mysteries of the two oldest orders of our world? It's not all about politics or making sure that the cultists don't get at each other's throats."

She uttered the last phrase in a tone so grim that the vassal could not find an answer. By the time the words appeared, they were no longer necessary as the guardsmen returned, pushing a trio of poorly dressed peasants in front of them.

As they approached, the poor fell to their knees on the sand.

"Who's in charge?"

"I am, gracious Mistress," said the foreman, not raising his head, and dressed a little more decently than the others.

He did not give his name, for the mistress had not asked him, and he was too insignificant himself to be the first to do so. If he did so, he would unwittingly put himself on the same level as the noble lady, for which he would be immediately killed.

"How long has this cross been here?"

"It was put there when my grandfather was young, gracious mistress!"

There is no point in counting on a more accurate answer. The peasant, most likely, was illiterate, and could not count, even his own age could not tell.

"Why was it put up?"

"Then came a great drought, gracious Mistress! Several years, gracious Mistress! A holy man came and said we should hold a prayer service and put a cross so that the mighty Lord of Light would have mercy. And so it came to pass, gracious Mistress!

"The drought, you say... Did the animals go elsewhere?"

"They were leaving, gracious Mistress! The cattle were dying, the children were dying too, the crops were completely gone, gracious Mistress!"

"I see. What is the name of your village?"

"Skinny Bellys, gracious Mistress!"

"That's a catchy name," Celesta pointed out. "Latham, toss them a coin. Dismissed."

Ignoring the happy peasants crawling away from the generous mistress, she turned back to the cross. The picture cleared up.

"There seems to have been a breakthrough here, only not into the Abyss, but out of the Good World. The priests felt it, came, and organized a patch, anchoring it to the symbol of faith. I should order a search of the archives to find out the side effects and signs that accompanied the breakthrough. Maybe we should send Hustin here."

"With all due respect to the maitre, he can hardly understand the rituals of the True Priests, Messena," remarked the Captain.

"Maybe he'll see something useful for himself," Celesta shrugged philosophically. "He'll get some new ideas to think about. Well, there's nothing more for us to do here. Let's go."

She didn't lie when she said they had nothing to share with the True Ones. Those, she felt, were far away from humanity and did not keep track of its affairs. It seemed to her that there were two plans, the so-called Abyss and the Good World, the first taking energy, the second giving it away. It did not matter whether it was monetary or not, only that the human world was part of the pumping mechanism, and the two ancient orders were responsible for its functioning. They also eliminated possible "leaks".

She did not voice her version to anyone except Medea. Her friend was the only one accustomed to Celesta's peculiar, one might say, atheistic way of thinking; the others would hardly accept such revelations. And it was not certain that her speculations were true.

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