Chapter 9

* * *

Celesta felt a strong sense of gratitude toward her first "spider" mentors. She was no fool, and she was well aware that to the instructors she was nothing more than a job - yes, a very specific one since they had never trained risen before, but just a job. But she was also aware that there were many ways to teach. To give the bare minimum and nothing more, or to put your heart and soul into teaching, forcing the student to overcome himself step by step, forcing him to become stronger, more sophisticated, and more observant with each lesson.

Her teachers belonged to the second category. They did their work well.

When Baron Carde, who was in charge of Taleya's guards at the time, voluntarily and involuntarily recruited her, Medea, and Hustin into his organization, one of the conditions of entry were training in everything necessary for the new duty station. Initially, it was supposed to be purely military skills, but later the list included psychology, etiquette, ancient languages, rhetoric, literature, and much, much more. Celesta's information-hungry mind absorbed knowledge at a breakneck speed, impressing instructors with the pace of her studies; she mastered in months what others took years to master. Perhaps she had made the mistake of frightening people with her demonstrated abilities and thus causing them to tighten their invisible leash. Or maybe she was just jealous? In any case, her relations with her colleagues did not work out; they tried to hurt the miniature ghoul at every opportunity, trying to set her up in front of her superiors. Carde figured the situation out quickly, but didn't interfere - he wondered if she could handle it.

She succeeded, albeit not immediately. She figured out the undercurrents of the service, learned how to maneuver between the factions, and conducted several successful operations. She earned a reputation as a clever, vindictive, useful creature. She was not going to be friends with anyone after all, and she couldn't be. It was only later she realized that the Baron had covered for her, after all, by reprimanding the most zealous persecutors.

Cardé showed neither fear nor squeamishness in front of her. He was a very unorthodox man, almost a genius, who disdainfully disregarded conventional stereotypes. He enjoyed his conversations with Celesta; she impressed him with her lack of deference to authority and her unorthodox judgment. Her conversations with the baron gave her much, and they gradually gave her an understanding of the inner processes of power, hidden from the outside observer.

Celesta took a lot from him. If it weren't for those ego-beating reprimands in private, who knows if she would have become the current Night Mistress or not?

Hastin has passed a completely different school. He was immediately taken under the wing of the great mage Tyran, a person of power, tough, and influential. He was initially sympathetic to the boy and, after seeing the young vampire's abilities, accepted him as an apprentice. The mage's authority allowed him to ignore the opinions of others from a high bell tower. Because of his age and high intelligence, he had his criteria for judging people, and the fact that the new apprentice sleeps in the basement during the day and feeds on human blood was of little importance in his eyes.

Different fates, different life experiences, and different perspectives on events. Not surprisingly, their assessments of the possible consequences of one or another action were far from always the same.

"...you don't seem to understand what you've done," Celesta reprimanded the warlock, who was scowling in his chair. "It's not just a violation of the four points of the second part of the Penal Code, which forbids all manipulation of a ruler or their kin, including the deceased! You murdered the guardian of the afterlife! If people find out about this, everyone will turn against us, that is, everyone at all, even our allies. First and foremost, our allies! The aristocrats have the same or very similar sarcophagi in their family tombs. They will try the situation on themselves in no time. And believe me, they won't like it."

"What else were we supposed to do?" Hustin snapped back. "He attacked us! I have no idea why he woke up."

"He woke up because you amateurs woke him up," she did not deny herself the pleasure of stomping on someone else's ego. "Badly prepared did not calculate something, and here is the result. You were in a hurry before I arrived, weren't you?"

The warlock sat stony-faced but averted his eyes to the side.

"Seven hundred years, no brains," Celesta summed up. "So here's what we'll do. We'll seal the burial chamber. Seal it up, I said! Seal off the corridors and tell the architects to make detours from my name. By the end of next week, every dog should know about the Mistress' order to stay out of the necropolis. In six months, we'll continue the research quietly. Am I correct in assuming that you found a way around the protection?"

"We have not bypassed," Hustin grimaced. "We blocked it temporarily."

"That's not the point. I'm more interested in whether your method works against the blessings of the human gods. You know how the light energy of temple and monastery lands affects vampires."

"Well..." the maître folded his fingers, "I'll have to think about it."

"Think," the mistress nodded. "Just don't test it in practice without me. The students should be involved, too, so they don't get involved in anything. Remember, they must not know that the ban on research in the necropolis is temporary."

"I'll have to tell Vador, we'll put a stopper together."

"Except for him."

Celesta looked at the warlock and concluded that the reprimand was over. Hastin is Hustin, she can't fix him. He is not a fool, on the contrary, one of the smartest in her circle, just in matters of his favorite art Hastin gets a little crazy. Fortunately, there is Vador, in difficult cases, directs the initiatives of the mentor in the right direction.

She did not doubt that Hustin would do exactly what he said. Despite his passion, the warlock was well aware of when to argue and when not to. Especially since in matters of aristocratic traditions he knew even better than her. And now, after her words, probably had time to calculate what they threaten the public disclosure of the fact of the destruction of the guard. She can be sure that the instructions from him the students will be correct and will be silent as a fish.

"Have you seen the report from Grahor? What do you think?"

"I'm still convinced that the problem isn't magic," Hustin accepted the change of subject with ease. "It's just that Grahor has nothing to do with previous attempts to gain a foothold in Deep Harbor."

"Or you underestimate the Collegium."

"Or I underestimate the Collegium," the mage agreed quietly. "But I don't think so. I've seen their artifacts, spoken to their renegades, and studied intelligence reports. They are not on the same level as us. Look for humans."

"We'll see," Celesta answered vaguely. They've been testing the leak, but they haven't had any results yet. "There's always a chance of a genius coming up with something new."

"I'd love to talk to him."

"Me, too. Have you thought about having a Child?"

"I haven't recovered from raising the last one yet. Why do you ask?"

"I met Homie in Lascaris, and he's not as frisky as he used to be," Mistress smiled sadly. "I don't think he'd be good enough for me; maybe you should."

"It won't work, I checked," Hustin shook his head. "That's a pity."

"Yeah, that's too bad," and after a moment of silence, Celesta shook her sad thoughts out of her head and rose from her chair. "I have to get to my meeting with Tar. I'll come to see you when I'm done with my business, and we can talk more about it then."

"I'll be waiting, Mistress."

There were nearly a dozen so-called reception halls, in fact, ordinary meeting rooms, only richly furnished, in the dungeons. They were scattered all over the Capital and served purely utilitarian purposes, to meet with people with whom any of the top risens wanted to talk in their territory. Or in cases where the conversation required urgency. In the case of the Tar barons, it was more a sign of trust and goodwill, because Celesta received them in the main hall, which was used to communicate with her people - the heads of cults, the leaders of the Dark Guild, and other mortals who were privy to the inner workings of society.

She was reminded that the architects had a real Throne Room in the planned underground palace. The Mistress refused to understand why it was necessary, but she was so amicably persuaded to leave everything as it was, that she agreed.

The risens' cooperation with the Tars began when the rich and noble clan lost almost all their lands and influence. The barons had no allies left, nothing to lose, and out of desperation, they agreed to the proposal of the vampires who had turned to them. The deal turned out to be advantageous to both sides. A series of mutual favors followed, culminating in a full-fledged partnership that neither partner had any intention of breaking at the moment.

"Peace and goodness blessed Vercassar! I hope you have not waited long?"

"Dark night, Messena" the baron stood up from the table at Celesta's appearance. "Not at all, your servants brought me literally just now."

Even if he had been sitting in the hall for several hours, etiquette required him to answer exactly that.

"I'm sorry for the delay," Celesta sat back in her chair, motioning for the man to take the seat opposite, near the roaster. "So much has happened lately! In our community, in the circle of the Son of the Sea, and the not-so-high spheres."

"Yes, I heard about the recent operation of the spiders," the Baron nodded. "Allow me to offer my condolences on the loss of your subjects, Messena."

Rumors of Zervan's betrayal, of course, reached the general public; it was impossible to hide it. However, the story was presented in different ways. One of the most common versions blamed the success of the Royal Security Service, and to some extent, it was true - because it was the spiders who made the arrests and liquidations. The information was simply presented to them on a tray.

"Those who live in the Darkness always remember that they are no more than guests in this world. Sooner or later, the Lord will call everyone to his throne," Celesta replied. She had already come to terms with her losses, the remainder of them no longer plunged her into a state of icy rage. "Who knows if the souls of my servants, cleansed of sin, will one day meet again in my path? Though the parting is painful, the knowledge that death is not the end brings new hope."

"I bow before the wisdom of the blessed Mistress of the Night."

Tar actually stood up and bowed, folding his arms in a special gesture. Among the old aristocracy, Celeste was considered a spiritual authority, and her words were listened to carefully. It wasn't a fanaticism - the elite seldom trusted anyone unconditionally - but the vampire mistress's opinion on theological, and not just theological, matters were always taken into account.

"Sit down, Baron. I have let go of those who have gone, and now I am moving on. Tell me, how are you? Is the venerable Lady Issilia well? I have heard disturbing rumors about her health."

The next fifteen minutes were spent on the obligatory small talk, not as pointless as it might seem. The upper class is permeated by family ties, knowing how many times the eighth Aunty sneezed at the last party sometimes turned into an inheritance. So Tar talked about his family, Celesta showed interest by memorizing key facts and waited for the Baron to indicate the purpose of his visit.

Finally, he got to the point: "Perhaps the Messena has heard of the little lawsuit I had with the Saints of the Fire? We are suing over a village a day's journey from Nemmist."

"Yes, I remember that the Ministry of Taxes was somehow involved in the case."

"Messena is absolutely right. The monastery of the saints did not pay what was due for the annexed lands, so the tax collectors took the village to the treasury and put it up for auction. That's where I bought it. Then, suddenly, the monastery paid its debts along with penalties and demanded the village back. Of course, I refused!"

"What have the saints done?"

"They went to court, which sided with them and canceled the deal. The most unpleasant thing is that no one returned the money for the purchase to me!"

"The judge was obliged to provide for this point in his verdict," Celesta remarked.

"He didn't do it, Messena. However, I'll be frank - the money in this case is the least of my worries; in the end, the treasury will pay it back, or credit it, sooner or later. What interested me more was the persistence shown by the servants of the flame. My men, temporarily dispatched to the village, were attacked by unknown assailants," Tar said with a showy chuckle at the last word. "Two were killed. I have also done a little investigation and found out the approximate sums received by the officials for the verdict the saints want. They are disproportionately large!"

"Is it that much?"

"They could buy five of these villages with the bribes they spent!"

"You don't have any mines nearby, do you?" the mistress recalled the map. "Near Nemmist, there seems to be a small amount of iron being mined."

"That was the first thing that came into my head," the Baron nodded. "No, it wasn't. The priest of the Temple of the Unassailable Pillar examined the site two years ago, and he said it was empty. There's nothing there but clay and stone."

"Then it's really strange."

The man rose from his chair and bowed respectfully: "I beg you, Messena, help me to solve this riddle. I must know why my men were killed."

"You can count on my help, Baron," Celesta agreed without hesitation. "You have intrigued me. Believe me, now I want to know the answer as much as you do."

They parted in about fifteen minutes, assuring each other of their respect. The Mistress really liked Tar - a mortal not without the flaws of his class, but overall not a bad man. She liked working with them.

Although the habit of constantly looking for a catch in the seemingly obvious actions made her wonder. Why had the baron come to her in the first place? Was it worth it to agree to his request? The answer to the last question was an absolute yes. It is in troubled waters that the biggest fish are caught, and the situation with the village is very strange. If an opportunity to learn some secret of the Fire Saints presents itself, it should not be passed up.

As for Tar himself... He's vindictive. All aristocrats live by the principle "good remember long - never forget the evil," and the Baron is the same way. The fact that people died is of little concern to him. What matters is that someone dared to raise his hand against his men, challenging him. So he will not rest until he responds to it. As a matter of fact, he already did, giving the vampires valuable information about their enemies.

Enough with the sitting. There's plenty to do.

"Come on, Ranilcar."

The figure of a guardsman slipped out of an empty niche in the wall and nestled behind the Mistress' left shoulder. What else has she got planned for today? The meeting with Se will take place later. The strongest survivors of the Paths of the Beast have not yet come to town, so the meeting will be postponed. That leaves Kalderan, with whom she has much to discuss, but no time to do so now. She can try, though.

Inhale. Exhalation. Consciousness slipped habitually into a trance, splitting into two streams. The first walks down the corridor, habitually tracking its surroundings, nodding at people and vampires along the way, avoiding traps. The second turn into a fog, goes to the gray plane, existing and not at the same time, stretches, marking the fires of souls, searching among them for the only suitable one.

"Kalderan."

"My Mistress," the answering thoughts-suggestions were tinged in neutral tones, indicating a lack of surprise. "Happy to hear your call."

"I don't feel much joy from you," Celesta jabbed non angry. "Is this a bad time? Are you in the middle of something?"

"A noble mistress always comes when she should, for she is the measure of propriety," the scout replied floridly. He sometimes had an occasional flair for beautiful words, and centuries of living in Taleya had not erased the education he'd received in the far south. "Her wretched servant strives in vain to understand the plans of the Hierarchs of Celestial Purity, may the curse of the Giver of Darkness fall on their souls."

"Disturbing news?"

"I don't know yet, Mistress," she could taste the discontent in his thoughts. "There's no way they can choose a new Guardian of the Gate of Peace to replace the one who died. It is as if the factions are of equal strength and cannot push through a candidate of their own. It's not uncommon but in the old days, it was never as much of a battle group clash. I don't see any reason for such heat of passion."

"In a few hours, I'm meeting with Se at his request. Could this be related?"

"Not impossible. I am just now waiting for reports that might clarify the situation. Would it be permissible for the unworthy to ask to wait a little while? I remember I have to report today, but to tell you the truth, I have a lot of questions I would like to discuss with the High Seated Ruler. A couple of hours won't be enough."

"In that case, I'll expect you the night after tomorrow; I don't have anything serious planned for it yet."

"Thank you, Mistress."

The conversation, which lasted a few seconds, is over. The two streams of consciousness merged softly and smoothly, testifying to the mentalist's good experience. The teenage angular figure walking down the corridor didn't even slow down, only shuddered a little, causing the bodyguard to listen around just in case.

A short conversation with a senior scout added food for thought. There's been a lot of news lately that has to do with religion in one way or another. Or is there? Unlike secular Blueness, the cults of the gods in Taleya are very influential and actively interfere in politics. You might say, directly incorporated into it.

Every major political movement is closely linked to the religious organization serving its ideological needs. Cult, temple, sect - it does not matter what you call it, the essence does not change. There are five main organizations, or rather, three plus two less important ones.

The Saints of the Fire were firmly coupled with the middle-class nobility, influential enough to defend their interests in the Capital, but not part of the cohort of the higher aristocracy. In a sense, the clerics served as the focal point of the whole loose coalition, because without them it would probably have fallen apart. The Royal Authority was supported by the Society of Celestial Purity, which included hereditary officials and servants who were dissatisfied with the formal cult of Derkana. They were called "lawmen" behind their backs because the concept of the cult put the law above morality. In their opinion, the supreme ruler, as the embodiment of the heavenly principle, transmits the grace descending upon him to his subjects, and only the precise observance of his will, expressed in decrees, allows the divine energy to spread unhindered throughout society, down to the lowest. Needless to say, if the regalia of power - the mirror, the sword, and others - were accepted by mediocrity, the concept would stall.

In a sense, the same theory was held by the Triad of Righteousness, named after the motto "justice, power, punishment," only with a small caveat. Its ideologists believed that the source of divine grace was not one ruler, but his whole family. And they silently asserted that the king did not necessarily perceive the instructions coming from the gods in the best possible way; there might be some among his relatives who were more acute in their hearing. Of course, those who were not careful enough to speak out openly were executed for disrespect, but despite the repression, the Triad flourished in the realms of the bloodline princes. It had relatively good contacts in Zonna, and was the first to recognize the sovereigns there as legitimate.

All three organizations were sharply negative toward vampires. The harshest confrontation was probably with the Triad. Their patrons hated the Lascaris feudal princes, with whom the undead community was friends, so the Triads didn't make even temporary situational alliances. Sad, but nothing could be done. The grouping of the old aristocracy, led by Lash, by the way, along with the tribal cults, sacrificed a lot to the servants of the Weightless Host. The cult dedicated to the willful airwoman Firise, which survived the Plague, kept many secrets and enjoyed the special favor of Medea, who personally trained chanters for it.

The last of the larger ones are the temples of Lukal, the god of trade and gold. They have no unified organization, each temple for itself, but they stand in every large city, not only in Blueness or Taleya but everywhere. With the donations of merchants and the services of an intermediary, they have accumulated a lot of wealth, maintain close ties with each other, and the abbots periodically come to the cathedrals that take place in the capital. If they were ever to unite, they would be a formidable force. On the whole, their attitude toward vampires is neutral, with the exception of Gardoman's subordinates, with whom the priests of Lucal have a love and complete understanding.

In addition to the strongest, closely related to and influenced by politics, there were other cults, sects, and individual monasteries. Most of them had a negative attitude toward vampires, but some maintained stable informal contacts. They exchanged information, and trade things. Occasionally, small cults would fall under the ban after the next bureaucratic outburst, and then they would go into hiding, joining the army of Mistress of the Night's undisclosed servants.

* * *Chapter 9