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19

Ta-ah-ah-ah, it's here. As follows from the certificate issued by Ragin, the girl and the baby were taken into care by a wealthy merchant, who comes from a family that, from the very foundation of Antreya, has been supplying red copper to the Western Shem from its own mines on the northern coast of the Dead Lake. Dan Soyner.

A solid house that immediately betrays the prosperity of its owner. And after all, for sure, everything is earned by righteous labor. There is no garden in front of the front entrance, but the back porch most likely has several flower beds and a lawn. What did you think? Only respected people are endowed with vast tracts of land in the city. I mean, from respected families. I myself live in a mansion that cannot boast of a park. And why? I want to look at the grass, I can always go to my mother. Although you don’t have to travel, it’s enough to get to the shelter. By the way, I will go there, but a little later. When I finish my business here.

Wrought iron bars on the windows of the first floor. Massive shutters, now, of course, open to meet the spring warmth, because otherwise the only way to get rid of dampness from stone walls is by indefatigable burning of firewood, and no self-respecting merchant will scatter money when it is possible to contrive a little and take advantage of freebies.

The stonework of the plinth is whitewashed. Well, you must! Is he also fashionable? However... Although a good half of the houses in Antrey are now suffering from a general obsession with the idea of ​​​​decorating the appearance of a dwelling, born in the inflamed brain of a court artist. True, I have reason to believe that the whitewashing of the lower floors was in the hands of daneke Mara Wittani, who runs laundries throughout the city: how many times he himself got white sticky dust on his clothes and swore at what the light was worth. Maybe give Callie a hint to take action? Hm. No, I will not. Considering that Mara has a habit of visiting him on business and without it, one can go further and assume that this fashionable trend is organized by none other than Kallas Ra-Dien. And this is already beneficial to me, because I receive the most generous donations from his hands. Oh, how nice everything is!

Bryaknuv bronze ring on the door, I patiently waited until I open.

The man who appeared on the threshold did not resemble a wealthy merchant either in age or behavior, but most of all resembled a petty servant: the same oily, shifting gaze, the same sweaty palms hurriedly rubbing against the skirts of the camisole, the same obligingly bent shoulders. But what is he afraid of?

Droplets of sweat, which appeared at the roots of the hair, prompted: he was distracted from housekeeping and now he is waiting for a dragging. From me, right? I am not going to educate other people's servants.

“Tell me, my dear, can dan Soyner see me now?”

- You see ... - the servant began to play up, but I pushed him aside and crossed the threshold of the house, because ... A familiar aroma called me.

They were everywhere: on tables, on window sills, on the floor. In tubs, vases and boxes. Lilies. All kinds of colors and sizes. They are fragrant, like a garden in which, according to the belief of the inhabitants of the South Shem, the most pious of us will end up after death.

“Dan Soyner is absent now, but if you deign to give me your name, I will certainly report ...” they said somewhere behind their backs.

“Report that Raiden Ra-Gros wanted to see him.

Behind them, they instantly fell silent, but nevertheless cautiously inquired:

— And what business brought you, bright dan? Perhaps I could be helpful and...

— Perhaps.

I stroked the sharp arrows of the leaves of the bouquet closest to me.

“Tell me, my dear, how is the girl who, according to the permission of the Guardianship Service, was taken by your master?” Can I see her?

“Oh, don’t worry, bright dan! With her, everything is just wonderful!

- How about the baby?

- The best nurse has been found for him, which is only in Antrey! - without the slightest hesitation and reflection, the servant said.

“And where is he now?”

— Oh, dan Soyner took the children out of town to strengthen them in the fresh country air.

It's commendable, of course, but...

— And dan himself? Is he with them?

— Of course! How could you leave such wonderful babies unattended! Of course, he went to make sure that they would be arranged in the best possible way!

“Okay… Well, I won’t waste your time anymore, my dear. Return to your duties. But I will ask you to tell the owner that I will come again - to verify my assumptions. I raised my eyebrows meaningfully and, after a moment's thought, added vaguely: "To avoid."

— Of course, bright dan! Don't worry, bright dan! I will announce your visit immediately and…

Of course, he was glad to put me out the door, especially since I didn’t particularly resist, because I got a topic for reflection. Serious topic.

First, lilies. It's no secret to anyone in Antrey that the scent of lilies in bloom can prevent the heir of the Ra-Gros line from fulfilling his immediate duties of identifying dangerous outsiders. Of course, this is complete nonsense, spread in ancient times by one of the ancestors of Kallas in order to give the townspeople unreasonable confidence in the presence of at least some kind of justice for the Guardian. I really love these flowers. Until self-forgetfulness. And in the estate, mother has broken a whole flower bed, protected by glass walls from winds and cold fogs. Flowerbed with lilies, white, pink and purple. Their aroma turns the head and makes the mind retreat into the shadows, releasing feelings to the fore. Their fragrance reminds me of Nais, as proud and impetuous as austere petals. As delicate as the velvet caps of stamens. So seductive and passionate like a scattering of specks in the depths of a flower cup ... Ask, how can I know all this if I never got a wife in my own bed? There are ways, and I use them. In the absence of others…

However, I did not linger any longer in the merchant's house, because I remembered my wife and our last parting. But still, the sea of ​​lilies suggested suspicion: they wanted to hide something from me. Of course, it's unlikely that Soyner was expecting my visit, though... Although, though. I have a foolish quality to be interested in the state of affairs of my wards, even if they are not in my charge for long. But if we adhere to such an explanation, it is useful to suspect the merchant of the intention to violate the main law of Antreya, that is, to harm the life and health of its inhabitants. Too dangerous conclusion, which should not be rushed.

It was possible to ask the servant in more detail, that's just ... This did not make sense and was the second reason for my reflections.

The whole short conversation my interlocutor was not himself. Partially. Not to the extent that would allow him to be considered legally insane, and not to the extent that testifies to the confusion of feelings in the presence of a real threat. The servant was, how to put it more precisely? Like enchanted. At first he behaved quite normally, but when he heard my name, he became an order of magnitude more benevolent, and not at all out of fear. As if something inside or outside ordered: please the guest. He appeased. As well as he could, that is, he happily and willingly answered the questions asked. It's strange... Maybe there was magic, but it's better to ask knowledgeable people about it, bring the same Ollie and make him work a little. In my line of work, I did not feel anything, absolutely. In addition to the urgent desire to crack the servant on the head and drive the memorized dope out of the nasal voice.

What does this mean? Dan Soyner has a wonderful gift of persuasion and knows how to subdue his servants? Not excluded. But it's not a crime yet. Okay, I'll figure it out later. And other things up to the throat.

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Lint Quarter, Royal Asylum for the Infirm,

third quarter of the day watch

- Olly, my freckled joy, ay!

No answer, no hello. And where does my wise friend roam in the midst of the day watch? Neither in the laboratory, nor in the park near his beloved vegetable garden. Misunderstood skeptics. Well, if no one is able to dispel my longing with a pleasant conversation, I will have to occupy myself with something. For example, reading the papers already waiting for me on the table in the office.

It’s good that the Old Wing was on fire: if the fire had reached the only room in the shelter that was dear to me, I would have wept bitterly. That is, I would cry from acrid smoke, in which the records and notes of my ancestors would disappear.

Of course, there are copies on the estate, but here they are, so to speak, a little more ordered than there. And to be completely honest, the library in the house on the Lunar Bend, due to my efforts, has been brought into a depressingly confused state. For everyone else, of course, and not for me: I can find whatever I want in the chaos of books and scrolls. Because he "lost" it. So, in the orphanage, my influence on the existing order is felt no less, but since only individual literary masterpieces of grandfathers and great-grandfathers are necessary for reading, they usually lie in the same place, which is incredibly convenient.

My cozy home office! How long have we not met! By the way, how long ago? The last visit - to the ashes - does not count, but before that ... Yes, I did not appear at the place of family service for more than two weeks. Ashamed. We have to make up for lost time. And it wouldn't hurt to brush the dust off the furniture ...

Seven paces long, four paces wide, enough room to work. An oblong table is placed, the top of which is covered with a rather balding cloth, marked throughout its length by burnt holes (this is my other great-grandfather, Vauken, smoked a pipe, and since his death no one bothered to renew the fabric upholstery, which is about to crumble to dust).

Fits two chairs with leather seat and back cushions, with comfortable armrests, but creaking so tightly that, sinking into them, you are always afraid that the rickety structure will fall apart right under your ass.

Bookcases are placed, behind the tightly closed doors of one of which I hide not books at all, but something else, gurgling. Alden tried to discourage me from this habit, but achieved only the opposite result: the number of bottles doubled from the original. True, I have not touched them since then, but the principle was observed.

The chipped parquet floors successfully hide their deplorable state under the fleecy carpet, which muffles the steps and is fiercely hated by me for that. But I don’t consider it possible to part with mom’s gift to dad, so I resigned myself to always sitting at the table facing the door.

There are two windows, narrow and so close to each other that they can pass for one not too big. I’ll open them and let in at least a little spring freshness into my abode ... Ho-ro-sho! In fact. Now you can plop down in your favorite armchair, put your feet on the table and spread sheets of paper on your knees from the folder kindly sent by Viger.

"The act of inspection and identification of the causes of ignition." Curious, revealed or not?

“On the day of the sixth month of the First Thunderstorms in the year 435 from the founding of Antreya, an inquiry was made regarding the outbreak of fire in a place not intended for this action, namely, in a residential building, which is part of the buildings belonging to the Royal Asylum of the Weak in Spirit, within the named Old Wing.”

I think I can guess who was doing the interrogation. But any guess must be confirmed, otherwise it will remain so forever and ever. What do we have with the personal seal of the interrogator? I thought so, dan Hammis. Or dan "Whiner", as he is usually called both behind the eyes and in the eyes. Well, you made me happy, Vig, by sending the most boring of your subordinates to my patrimony ... No, I won’t be angry: how many cases have accumulated on the tables of other interrogators? And I'm more than sure that those cases (unlike mine) directly affected someone's life or death, and did not require just rummaging through a pile of coals.

Okay, I hope that Hammis managed to cope with the enduring desire to always and everywhere follow the instructions, and crumbs of useful information will be found even in this ... meager, by the way, report: two sheets of paper for everything about everything. Save paper? Are the inhabitants of the Island so impoverished? Say a word to Kallas? Let him send them, from the breadth of his soul, several carts with paper piles. And after all, he will send, you bastard, because I will not ask for myself. If it were for myself, I would only wait for rain in the fall, and then resorting to day and night prayers to the celestial being responsible for shedding moisture on the earth.

“The source of the fire was presumably located in the last third of the corridor on the first floor, and the cause of the fire was oil spilled from the lamp and ignited.”

Brilliant. Here you are, Hammis, I will kiss you for sure - in all the places that I can get to, and in the presence of all your colleagues and your immediate superior. Spilled oil! What else? Did they make a fire in the middle of the corridor, or what? Oh…

“The large amount of smoke, established according to the testimonies of witnesses and the subsequent examination of air flows, arose presumably due to the ignition of poorly refined oil, the so-called “hishi”, and is explained by a large spill spot.”

Poorly cleaned? "Hishi"? Suppose, for any outside observer, this fact would go unnoticed, but for me ... The lamps of the shelter use a completely different oil, of the highest degree of purification, which does not smoke at all. So it was arson. Oh, how bad ... I'll have to see for myself.

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Contrary to expectations, the "ashes" turned out to be not so scary in appearance. Not scary at all. Only the Rommian oak panels were seriously damaged, but I've been meaning to trade them in for something a little more attractive than gloomy heaviness.

The last third of the corridor - what do I have there? But nothing. A small platform like an alcove. The funny thing is that rarely anyone went into it, because there is absolutely nothing to do there: no table, no chairs, no other interior items. Only one picture on the wall. Painting…

The canvas, of course, did not survive the meeting with fire: the layer of paint melted, stacked and burned. Okay, no big loss. Although ... And what was depicted, then? It seems to be someone's portrait, but whose? For the life of me, I don't remember. And not a single detail can be extracted from memory. Maybe I should have looked more closely, but this part of the corridor has never been popular with me. Actually, the Old Outbuilding could have been safely locked up if the Ghost had not completely refused to live in a place other than in these old and damp walls.

Yeah. Here is the first confirmation: raw. Have you ever tried making an oak log fire? And from damp oak logs? How much oil did the attacker have to pour in order to make the eternally damp tree catch fire? More than one pitcher, I guess. Or did he use flasks? Or maybe ... Also magic.

I walked over to one of the burnt patches and touched my fingers to a wooden panel beyond blackness. Dry, of course. If only for the simple reason that the fire was put out by Ollie precisely with the use of a “hood”. But it seems to me that the arsonist was also equipped with magical help in his difficult task. And drying destroyed all traces that I could read. Hm. Hm. Hm.