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25

Tenth day of the month of the First Thunders

Free Ka-Yi in the constellation Ma-Lonn

Rule of the day: "You can benefit your fatherland only by separating yourself from it."

"Lotion of star rivers" instructs:

“The day of defense of justice and traditions, the day of new plans and undertakings. On this day, you can accidentally discover secret sources of knowledge. Spiritual powers and a desire to act are overflowing, but Ka-Yi is free from attachments and allows other stars to exercise their influence with impunity.

Capricious Viola infects with love for others, but insists on turning to overly strict and moss-covered foundations and traditions. The star wishes us well, but we should not follow her lead: it is easier to stumble and sit in a puddle.

Terrible Enassi gives great spiritual powers, but does it quietly and secretly, and therefore the consequences are unexpected, not always friendly and, which is especially insidious, are signs of the manifestation of Fate. However, through the medium of Enassi, brilliant ideas can arise, forcing one to completely obey them at the risk of everything: love, service, duty, and, finally, life itself.

Putting together the influence of the stars will take some work, but if you are persistent and diligent, the result will pay off.”

Lint Quarter, Royal Asylum for the Infirm

spirit, the last third of the night watch

A slap on the cheek. mine. Another.

Without opening my eyes, I tell the impatient borer everything that I think about him. Speech fits into a minute of colorful expressions. And what do I hear in response?

Joyful:

Thank gods I'm awake!

Now I can open my eyelids and look sternly at the culprit of my awakening. On Ollie, that is.

True, what to hide: I have not slept for a long time. Long enough to listen to my own feelings and try to understand if everything is fine with me. And if not okay, then at least estimate how much.

Actually, I couldn’t have done anything else, even when I was fully awake, because I can’t even get out of bed, let alone get up: the redhead went to great lengths, tying my limbs to the bed frame. Even across the chest, one of the belts started up for greater reliability. So that the patient does not twitch and does not interfere with the doctor to examine. And since the patient seems to be alone here, and ... Although, I won’t vouch for Ollie’s mental health: I saw how he argued with one of my fools for a “place in the sun”! In the literal sense, by the way - for the corner of the terrace, protected at the same time from the wind and from the scorching sun with lashes of mountain grapes. Now, it would be difficult even for me to establish which of the disputants is still in good health, and which is completely crazy. And when I, having made a rather terrible (or terribly pleased, which would be more accurate) face,

— What are you aching for? Morning hours should be spent in the company of a young charmer, and not to watch at the deathbed.

Alden - not in the usual brown robe of a laboratory rat, but in a whitish medical robe, and himself so pale that the freckles seemed completely dark - opened his mouth, intending to be indignant, but immediately came to his senses and shook his head reproachfully:

Don't even try to piss me off. Will not work.

— Really?

I closed my eyes, looked at Ollie again, first with my left eye, then with my right eye. Vision is clear, you can say, I see everything crystal clear. I wish I had such clarity in my thoughts...

- Exactly! The mage puffed out his cheeks proudly.

- This is in honor of what?

- In honor of the fact that I do not notice when performing stupid undertakings.

- Let's say you notice, but you don't answer them.

“Anyway, what’s the difference?”

- For me? No. Just know what...

- What? Alden leaned forward a little.

- My arms and legs are already numb! Well, unbind!

“And they didn’t get numb at all,” follows a phlegmatic correction.

- How do you know?

- And who, if not me? I kneaded all your muscles, by the way!

Mm. Of course he did. So that the blood does not stagnate. He did his job conscientiously, for which honor and praise to my doctor. Will be. Later.

- I said: untie! Is your hearing bad?

“My hearing is good. Just as good as your mind. And you know perfectly well what you and I need to do. Do you know?

I grimaced. Of course I know. And I can't escape my fate. Or maybe I don't want to.

- Now?

"Now," the mage nodded. - In general, you are lucky, Raiden: only muscles are cut, neither bones nor internal organs are affected. It will be easier.

- Who said?

“Well…” He was a little embarrassed. – Isn’t it easier for you to “talk” only blood?

“No,” I answer. Short and evil.

Alden sighed, as always, not believing a word I said, and reached for a vial filled with dark gray, metallic slime, and I closed my eyes and focused on myself.

Now the magician will warm the bottle in the flame of an oil lamp to the warmth that is characteristic of a living body, the mucus will become liquid and sticky to fill in and heal my wounds. But this is not enough: the tissues will not recover until the blood is charmed. And my blood, and the blood of the moon eel, which Ollie is now warming ... Already warmed up.

- Ma-a-a-a-at!

Why is it always painful for me at the moment when a liquid belonging to a strange and alien being penetrates into my body? She is not poisonous, does not burn, does not sting, but go ahead: every time I yell like a cut one. Those very moments until the current stops. Then everything falls into place, and I feel only the presence of something superfluous in myself, nothing more. It's annoying, but not fatal. And in order for it to turn into “mine”, you need nothing at all: to speak.

Or rather, talk. Convince to become one with me, since no other option is foreseen. And the blood always agrees, because it is saturated with "lunar silver." Because almost everything is made up of it.

The moon eel is a rare, capricious and elusive fish that lives in the upper Lavuola. They say they tried to breed it in cages, but nothing happened: they didn’t want to live in captivity, so the fishermen have to use all their skills to catch the proud one and deliver it to Antreya. To be honest, his meat is not so hot because of the strong metallic taste, but it looks very beautiful, shimmering on the platter with all the colors of the rainbow. Actually, it is only for the sake of beauty that they catch it: to decorate the royal table on especially solemn occasions. And there will be no one. Except me. And even then, in front of the audience, I don’t touch the eel: I wait for the end of the festival, so that, having dragged the fish home, I choke on it all alone. Because that's how it's supposed to be. Because rainbow meat is very healthy for me. But gods, how ugly it is! It would turn inside out if he had not persuaded himself. And he didn't "talk".

However, my actions cannot be called a conspiracy in the full sense of the word. I speak mentally, sensations on the verge of consciousness. I listen to how blood flows from the heart through the vessels, penetrates the muscles, nourishes the body and returns back. And at every circle of its existence, it carries the most valuable thing in the world. Knowledge. The smallest details. Tiny details. Bits of information about what my body consists of and how it lives. And, passing through tissue ruptures, the blood transmits this very knowledge to the dark gray mucus that fills them. One, two, three. Several hundred or thousand circles will pass before the eel's blood learns its lesson and repeats it without hesitation, becoming like my blood. She does not overgrow tissue - she just puts a patch. Until the body heals itself. And as it goes on, the mucus will begin to dissolve, to eventually disappear. But do not cease to exist, but simply dissolve. Inside of me…

“And you’re getting better and better,” Alden nodded approvingly at my questioning look. That's what practice means!

“I would pay dearly not to practice like that forever.

Ryzhik said nothing, but in his brown eyes there shone much more delight of witnessing a miracle than regret about the reasons for the origin of this miracle. A doctor, and even a magician - what can you take from him? With the same passion in his eyes, he poked needles into my wounds, studying their depth and danger. And will poke at every opportunity. He must have taken my blood. Why not take it if it's leaking? He took it, of course. He will pore over it in his laboratory, trying to magically create something similar. And of course, he will not succeed, because long before the start of the experiments, the blood taken will become completely dead, since Ollie does not understand the simplest rule: once started, the movement should not stop. Stopping traffic means one thing. Death.

I again listened to the sensations. Everything is quiet.

- Can I get up now?

Ryzhik smiled wryly.

“Actually, Ra-Dien said to keep you in bed as long as possible.

So no more than five minutes. Unbind or...

- Or? - interest in the eyes.

“I’ll get rid of it myself, and then you won’t find it enough!”

- Oh, I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid! Alden squealed jokingly, but nevertheless heeded my request, unfastening the belt buckles, because this time I was not joking. Not a drop.

The attempt to sit up was too hasty and abrupt: my head shook, and I almost collapsed back. It's good that the ginger caught me, keeping me from falling, which would not have the best effect on my wounds. And there were wounds ... Too much for one time.

Five cuts, now looking like dark welts, ran in a curved line across the stomach, under the ribs, and another was visible on the shoulder, where the last of the blades, not completely stopped by Ballig's body, had stuck. Nevertheless, the “shell” fulfilled its task: the wounds turned out to be shallow and promised to heal quickly and without complications. Already now it was possible to behave in the usual way, if not for the fatigue caused by an extraordinary conspiracy.

Alden threw a shirt over my shoulders.

"Maybe you'd better lie down?"

- Get some more sleep!

- I'll offer it. You don't look good, Raiden.

- I know.

- You have to relax.

- I know.

- You…

- Shut up! I shouted, then thought for a while and added guiltily: “Please.

The magician shook his head, silently complaining to one of the gods about my frivolity.

I took a deep breath, calming my body and mind, and, trying to move very smoothly, got out of bed.

The pain is gone. There remains a feeling of muscle tightness, but it is both natural and useful: as long as I feel the consequences of the injury, I will unconsciously act more carefully. And caution has its positive aspects. For example, it does not allow you to make rash steps. True, time can be spent thinking stupid things, right?

- All is ready?

Alden raised his eyebrows sadly.

- Well, where are you in a hurry, pray tell?

Is there any reason to delay?

- Raiden, we both know that this needs to be done, and yet ... It doesn’t matter how much time passes for him: a day, a week, a month ...

- And it's important to me!

Why such a rush?

- The sooner the "snake" gets freedom, the sooner it will be possible to get a new "shell". Forgot?

The magician twitched his chin indignantly, but decided to keep the unflattering words to himself. However, it was enough to look into brown eyes to find out to the last detail what a scoundrel I was. Still, I think only and exclusively about my own safety, and I spit on the feelings of others from the highest lighthouse that can be found in Antrey! Ugh. I spit, so what? And who doesn't spit when it comes to life and death? Your own life and death?

Since Alden was not going to accompany me, showing proud contempt for my base aspirations, I trudged into the pantry myself. Without someone else's help, although at every third step I had to touch the wall with my hand, because the head did not hold the course well.

The home shirt - a spacious knee-length robe, devoid of buttons and other fasteners - was flung open all the time. The venerable Tarma Thoris would have killed me for such a disregard for good manners, but few in the orphanage are embarrassed by the Overseer's nakedness. And because I have few wards, and because no one in their right mind or in a darkened consciousness will venture to the basement floor. Here is my estate. The vault of my secrets. I am not averse to sharing some of them with the citizens of Antreya, but I am afraid such frankness will only exacerbate the fears and hostility that accompany any mention of me and my ministry ...

The pantry, a small room, dry and moderately cool, was usually empty. But not today. Today there was food on the table. A whole feast. For the worms that will soon pounce on the dead body.

Inspiring respect in life, Ballig did not lose his simple grandeur even in death: neither the gray pallor of the skin, nor the flaccidity of the muscles, gradually losing their true forms, could deprive my bodyguard of strength. Even if now she remained to live only in my imagination, but I felt her as clearly as I saw the limp numbness of forever closed eyelids.

You are my dear bear ... Why did you rush across, and even so stupidly? It was necessary to parry the blow, try to put some kind of shield, but. Why did you only manage to cover me with yourself? Why did you respond to the order when I had already ceased to take into account your existence?

Questions, questions, questions. And not a single reasonable answer. Who can help me find out the truth? You? Kyrian? Honk? I will be asking. Certainly. But first, I'll do what I came for. I will set you free.

The rough cloth covering the body slid to the floor, rustling with displeasure, as if it did not want to leave its familiar place. And a secret was prepared to appear before my eyes, for which many magicians of the Four Shems would give a tenth of their life, or even two tenths. However, I wouldn't talk about it. No one in the world, because ... No, and dangerous too, but more - ashamed.

Ollie, despite some objections, had prepared everything necessary: ​​both oil lamps with mirrored petals of reflective shields that doubled the amount of light I needed, and a sharply honed knife, not suitable for a serious fight, but wonderfully suitable for dissecting a body. Especially a dead body.

I ran my hand over Ballig's wounded belly. The blood had already stopped flowing, thickening on the torn fibers. Cold, losing its vitality. I wonder if I could survive such blows? Probably yes, although it would take a lot of work to cope with the pain. But if the pain turned out to be stronger ... No, I probably won’t try. Who knows what the mind, tormented by suffering, is capable of? I guess it can do something. But this knowledge is from the category of those that do not need to be obtained on purpose: you need it, it will come by itself.

Where are you hiding, my sweet? In normal times, I would have known where to go, but now... You must have chosen a quieter place to hide and wait it out. So, you need to look for where the damage is least. That is, in the head.

No, I will not cut, and Ballig already got it. Causing harm even after death ... Complete indecency. But do I need to get it somehow? Need. You have to persuade.

I unclenched the dead man's jaws (it's good that I managed to do this ... And Alden was still against the rush! I should have seen how he copes with completely stiff muscles ...), leaned over to the dark gap of the mouth and called:

- My sweet, it's time to change the mink.

He called out, lovingly. If I had invested at least part of the expressed feelings in communication with the ladies of the court, they would have followed me in a joint, a kind of fish flock, brilliant, cheerful and contented. So no, I am wasting myself on trifles that do not bring any satisfaction.

— Do not resist, sweetie, you feel that it is getting colder and sadder here.

Silence and stillness. But I'm not upset, because I know that sooner or later they will answer me. They won't be able to answer. Unlike my legal wife, this daneke sincerely loves me. For getting what she needs from me - food and shelter. More precisely, blood, but these are details ...

I lower my voice to a barely audible whisper and report very passionately:

“I missed you so much, honey… The wait could be forever, but we don’t want that, do we?”

And my prayers are heeded: from the half-open mouth of Ballig, a tiny head protrudes on a long neck, translucent, absorbing glare of light and turning them into a measured silvery glow.

There is not a single scale on her, and when her cheek rubs against mine, it seems to me that a soft feather is being passed over the skin. Cool and gentle.

A thin, weightless, seemingly fluffy body moves around my neck, glides across my chest and curls up under the triangle of ribs, snuggling tightly and tightly and connecting with me with hundreds of claws that have come from nowhere. The last injection is when the head of the "snake" penetrates inside, reaching the nearest blood vessel, and that's it. You can take a break. You can collect your thoughts and pay last respects now not to a servant, but to a friend.

I don’t know exactly from what day of existence the Guardian was given the right to acquire bodyguards, maybe from the very first. It's not important. What is important is how complete the mentioned right turned out to be in the end.