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Antrea, Boneblade Quarter,

third hour of the night watch

What is available? A crime. Perfect? Yes. But, on the other hand, if we consider the original plan, we can consider it imperfect. In fact, the victim was conceived differently, more in line with the killer's plans than my "shell".

Why someone would need to reduce the number of Navigators, I have no idea. Tellingly, the one who planned the villainy of the mind also did not apply it very well, and the performer of this useful quality was completely deprived. In view of complete, indisputable and precisely established madness. To use the services of a madman in Antrey - is this not an admission of the chaos that reigns in the head? Is very similar. It suggests itself, one might say, but I am not accustomed to grasping at the first of the saving straws. And if you look from another bump, the one that is higher?

The attacker, of course, knew about the ability of the assassin he hired to charmwater. But from where? As far as I know, all attempts to study the influence of “moon silver” on human souls outside Antreya and the Lavuola valley have failed, because the waters of the river, passing through rocky channels, lose their destructive properties, becoming the most common both in appearance and in taste, and on the consequences. Therefore, to assume that some bookworm, who intended to believe the theory by practice, set up experiments in his laboratory and determined out of hundreds, and maybe thousands of people, the only one who, after taking a sip of spoiled water, will instantly awaken his gift from sleep ... Silly. No, they definitely did. And the killer was prepared in advance: I will never believe that, without long and tedious explanations, she could, having barely felt the influence of "silver", at once learn to fog other people's minds. I know for myself that this science requires assimilation for not only weeks, but for whole years. In addition, remembering how the girl jumped out of the gallery and ran away cheerfully, I can say that they prepared not only theoretically.

So, the killer was carefully selected, prepared, delivered to the scene. But it is not very easy to kill a person with bare hands, especially if there is no complete confidence in the effectiveness of magic tricks. Therefore, some kind of weapon is required. It is desirable that it is extremely easy to use and can pass for a household item or other trinket of those that ladies like to carry with them. Is it logical? And then! Something that does not attract too much attention. Fan? Great choice! Starting from the middle of spring, the self-respecting daneke does not part with the fan, so no one will be suspicious of a small, bright and cute little thing. But they don't make them in Antrey, which means they need to be imported. Question: how?

Customs inspection does not let such things into the city with impunity, here Thewlis is completely and completely right: the weapon, whether it is explicit or hidden, is necessarily described, and the certified inventory is handed over to the City Guard in order to discourage the owner from using the imported one for its intended purpose. To decorate the house, gift or the like - please, to your health! Although both the donor and the gifted person are still registered with the re-amer's office. To avoid. And this attacker could not allow, and the fool is clear. What is the point of committing murder with a weapon that everyone knows about? None.

It is necessary to carry the fan into the city without prying eyes and ears. It was not possible through the customs warehouse, although, judging by the words of the caretaker, the villain unknown to me so far did not lose sight of this possibility. Did not work out? So, he turned to other ways of doing the impossible. For example, to "free carriers". True, there is another channel through which the little thing could penetrate into the city, but for now I will beware of taking it into account: very unpleasant conclusions will follow. I will think about the good. As long as I can...

The yard of the Free Carrier adjoined with its rear to the line of port fortifications, but, according to the assurances of the guards on both sides, it was not connected with the territory of the port itself by any passages. How! It's a good story, but it doesn't make it true, does it? You can give a finger to cut off, there are moves, as many as you like. How else to deliver prohibited goods from the mooring piers beyond the cordon, bypassing the inspection? Most likely, there is something like "wandering paths" that are constantly changing their pattern, leaving only the place of descent unchanged. But if the “carriers” have such a skilled magician, one can only envy them and clap their hands heartily. However, let Viger deal with the smuggling inside Antrea, and Hellen in the port. I don't care. They put me in the case, then I'll try to put things in order. If asked. If very well asked.

- What do you need? asked the owner of the vile physiognomy that appeared in the hole in the door window.

I thought it was necessary to make an amendment:

- Not "what", but "whom".

The physiognomy did not appreciate my striving for accuracy and repeated it even less kindly:

- What, what?

Maybe he is deaf? Then I risk letting the night down the drain.

— Master in the Yard?

- What about you?

- Yes, I want to talk.

- With the owner?

- With him.

- Go away!

It's always like this: if you try to behave like a well-mannered gentleman, you run into at best a refusal, at worst ... Something like a refusal, but much more offensive.

I sighed, let the foul-smelling breath of the porter, which flew out of his mouth along with the words, slide over the hairs on his cheek, and quietly noticed the closing window after:

“I’ll go, but you won’t be able to go anywhere when the owner finds out how much you charge from walking girls for a pass to the Yard.

The door stopped and then started back up.

- Who blabbed? Alice? Or Kun, red-haired bitch? Well, I'll get to her...

- Buddy, I don't care how you decide your affairs with the girls: I'm sorry, I'm in a hurry.

And I pretended that I was going to leave, but before I had time to take two steps, I heard the creak of the door behind me and a frightened grumbling:

- Come on in. Just don't talk your tongue, okay?

- As you say.

I squeeze past the gatekeeper, seriously concerned about the chance looming ahead of me to say goodbye to a cheerful and relatively carefree life.

It may seem strange to some, but "free carriers" do not welcome the presence of strangers in their stronghold, even if they are serving for entertainment. They keep secrets, and this is quite reasonable: no matter how loyal and understanding the girl who warms the bed is, sooner or later she will blurt out something in a conversation with her girlfriends, and even with the first people she meets, but friendly and willingly hanging out her ears, the townspeople. Someone will blather, someone will hear out of the corner of their ear, someone will remember and report, someone will put everything in a pile. Loop after loop - and a network will be connected in which everyone will get confused. You just need to be able to listen and knit ...

At night, the Courtyard of the Free Carrier looked completely different from other respectable courtyards: life in it was seething and seething. I don’t remember that suspicious ships moored in the port in recent days ... This means that new accomplices of the “carters” have appeared. It will be necessary to hint to Ra-Van that it is not out of place to increase attention.

Of course, no one will let me into the labyrinth of corridors, I do not have the proper trust. We'll have to communicate with the owner right in the Yard. I catch the first boy that comes across by the ear and whisper affectionately:

“Come on, kid, run and tell the older “carter” that Raiden Ra-Gro wants to talk to him. Alive!

The boy takes off like lightning, and, in full accordance with the habits of nature, after a few breaths, thunder rumbles. True, in my case, the thunder is the opposite: there is a deathly silence, and I feel the looks turned to me. From all sides. And then people begin to part, slowly and carefully, as if this could help protect themselves from adversity. Which? And I would like to know...

“And what does Raiden Ra-Gro himself, the Guardian of Antreya, want to talk to me about?”

An impossibly malicious voice, honey-sweet and just as viscous: it seems that the sounds get stuck in it, merging into a single melody. I wonder if he always talks like that to his subordinates too? I wouldn't have the strength to sing every phrase. Yes, and there would be no desire.

I should have met the owner of the Court of Free Carriage earlier, oh I should have! Then he wouldn't have stood there, feeling his left eyebrow trying to climb onto his forehead as the only facial feature that couldn't cope with surprise. Yes, there are many miracles in the sublunar world, but such a miracle ... Too much.

The figure is thin, serpentine, and the impression is only enhanced by smooth movements and swaying folds of a long, almost to the toe, home shirt made of thin gloomy purple silk, for some reason trimmed with fluffy, seemingly completely weightless fur. The clasp is just one button, located approximately at the level of the triangle of closure of the ribs, so a completely hairless chest with smooth, milky-white skin is visible above it, and below it is the navel, because the waistband of the pants is shamelessly understated. Hmmm, even port whores don’t go in this form ... They are afraid that success will be excessive. But this handsome man, apparently, is not afraid for himself, otherwise he would dress more modestly.

I can hardly resist not to start looking at something that claims to be called “shoes”: some kind of straps, buckles, sequins ... Darkness. However, at the top of the shine there is also more than enough: a golden chain of massive woven links around the neck, a scattering of rings on graceful fingers, as white as other visible skin, and black, like night, hair descends like wings only along the cheekbones, behind stabbed with a hairpin, the size and cost of which some court ladies would envy. But what all the daneke of the royal court would envy at once is the impeccable features of the face, which seem surprisingly young, despite the abundance of paint. I would have believed that the guy who came out to meet me was young, if not for the wave of aromas in which truth was hidden among perfumes and ointments. No, he is not a youth at all, naive and innocent. He is a player ready to start the game with any opponent. Am I ready for this?

— Business, dan. Exclusively about business.

- Oh, how boring! drawled the owner, lowering his eyelashes in disappointment. - Always and everywhere business ... Not to offer any fun.

— Do you have little entertainment?

- You can't even imagine how little ... Just a little bit. The pomaded lips curled into a sweet little tube. — And you there too. At such a late hour and with business! Not good, dan Ragro. Before asking for the favor of the owners of the house, they are usually presented with a gift. Do you respect customs?

I suspect which way the conversation is heading, and I have nothing against:

- What.

“So you won’t refuse to amuse me and my household ... with something?”

- For example?

He pretended to think, and several times tapped the index finger of his left hand on his lower lip, allowing you to admire the brightly painted fingernail.

“Personally, I don’t enjoy it, but the guys here like to have rougher entertainment… How about a duel?”

I'm trying to joke, at the same time getting rid of an inappropriate option:

- On fists?

The owner squints in annoyance:

- On sticks.

“After the duel, will I be able to get an audience?”

- Look how it ends.

What cunning and at the same time innocent eyes! There is a catch, it cannot but be, but its true meaning is unknown even to the cutesy joker. It's just that we both understand that the game will not be fair. But how much? And yet I have nothing to choose from:

- I agree.

Satisfied nod. "Carriers" make room for a duel. I take off my cloak, lean my sword against the wall, which has not yet left its scabbard, and report:

I don't recommend touching.

Judging by the wariness of their views, the warning has been accepted. They throw me a staff: a stick, a little shorter than me, rather weighty. Polished by many hundreds of touches - a splinter is not expected, and that is joy. I shift the “wand” from one hand to the other. Hmmm, it's heavy, you have to hold both. Well, where is my opponent? Hmm, hmm, hmm. So here's the catch. For such jokes they beat, and they beat painfully. They are beaten to death: in the hands of the big man, who came out to the other side of the "arena", the blades of boarding axes flashed.

And I can’t even get to the sword: the rows of spectators have closed behind me. Good axes, and the peasant also holds them well, with a good grip. Master, you mean? Now let's see what kind of master you are ...

He attacked without preparation and the go-ahead that marks the beginning of the duel, but no one cared about the rules in the Court, and I already knew at what moment to take a step back so as not to be hit, because every drop of sweat on the enemy’s skin served me informant.

I allow myself to retreat only three times: it takes exactly that much time to adjust to the rhythm of the big man's movement, and then, during the next attack, I remain standing still. The enemy, if surprised, does not have time to realize that he is surprised, and hits with the right ax. I shield myself from the blow, but instead of placing the staff under the sharp edge of the blade, which would be sheer suicide, I stop the movement of the weapon by catching it under my chin.

We must pay tribute to the big man: having felt the block, he did not try to free himself, but intercepted the left ax and hit the butt with a faceted tooth. To my side. More precisely, to where my side had just been. I dodged, taking a step to the side, missed the blow and, when the blade swept past, I picked up the second beard with the free end of the staff. Everything, the job is done: the weapon is caught, only a dirty blow to the crotch, forbidden in all dueling codes, remains, and my opponent, groaning, ceases to be a threat for a while.

- Enough? Or repeat?

I don’t know what else the owner of the Court would have thought, but from behind the backs of the “carters” who did not wait for the fun, a calm, somewhat mocking voice sounded:

“There’s no need for this, bright dan: so you’ll put all the good fighters out of action for the sake of laughter. And some jokers would need to learn how to scatter their brains, since they are admitted to the board.

The brunette capriciously rolled his eyes to the sky, and the same voice continued:

“Will you refuse to enter the house, dan Ragro?” My son wasn't very kind, so I'll have to be the host here.

A living corridor, instantly formed from the "carters", led to the porch, on which stood ... the old fishmonger.

Antrea, Boneblade Quarter,

fourth hour of the night watch

— What would you prefer: wine, ale, glacier water, avak?

- Now and here - answers to questions.

I put the sword on my knees, mentally thanking the gods, who until now did not force her to leave the scabbard, and at the same time offered up a prayer that everything would remain so until the end of the night.

My market acquaintance (who turned out to be the former owner of the Court, who several years ago handed over the reins of power to his only son) snorted:

“Are you picky, bright dan… Well, if you please, I’ll try to appease your curiosity.”

Asking... For some, this action may seem simple and not worth a long preparation, but I know for sure: before asking a question, you need to imagine what answer you will receive. Actually, if presented, sometimes there is no need to ask what saves the energy and time of the interlocutors. So I, on thoughtful reflection, knew everything. Almost all the facts on the basis of which I am obliged to take and carry out strictly defined actions. And the rest ... It, as the fair-haired Lykket correctly noted, is suitable only for appeasing such an unbearable character trait as curiosity.

- Let's start with the main thing: do you know this thing?

The long-suffering fan, traveling with me this night throughout the city, exposed its silky sides to the bright light of oil lamps.

Juvis, the current owner of the Court of Free Carriage, perked up:

- Oh, what a charm! Can I take a closer look?

- Do not touch. - The father lightly slapped his son's greedily spread fingers.

Family showdowns were of little interest to me.

- So?

- Not.

- Sure?

- Completely.

“And none of your subordinates…

Licker narrowed his eyes in amusement.

- If the "carrier" hides at least something from the owner, he ceases to be a "carrier".

Of course, against your will?

“There are laws for everything, dan Ragro. And as long as they are fulfilled, the world does not fall into the abyss.

It's right. And, as far as I know, in the "twilight" courts, the laws are much more severe than in the royal court. Yes, and they monitor their execution more strictly and more carefully ... So, the "carriers" have nothing to do with it. I can’t say that I was very happy, but still I breathed more calmly: if the Court were drawn into the ongoing events, this would mean the collapse of everything created over the centuries. But there is one more thing that excites my curiosity:

- How then do you explain your participation in the illegal transportation of "live goods"?

The wrinkles on the tanned face of the elderly man became a little more noticeable, but not from tension, but from a sly smile:

“Do you need to know the reason, or do you just want to blame me?”

“Let’s suppose I can do the second without your assistance… Forgive me generously, but it doesn’t seem to me that dan, with your past and present, like this, under the influence of a whim, will suddenly hit smuggling. Have you retired? Or I'm wrong?

- You are right, bright dan: I have retired a long time ago and quietly fish for myself and my grandchildren to the delight ... But the customer did not know this!