Top Game

8

Fish market

The market slightly deafened me with a cheerful hubbub. Well, of course, this is for some (but let's not point the finger!) The beginning of the morning watch - the time is impossible early, and the fishing vessels have almost completely unloaded the goods intended for sale, and now baskets with silvery carcasses, generously sprinkled with ice, are being taken away from the benches. By the way, supplying ice is a profitable business: this is evidenced by the fact that the gnomes are engaged in it - these short men will not miss the profit! It is curious that they see it where everyone else turns up their noses at first, and then they catch themselves and start lamenting: oh, we were the first to think about this ... You thought about it, but they took it and did it. However, in recent years, fakes have come across very often. Which? Icy of course! Not the "crystal-clear glaciers of Rinnever", but something frozen from muddy water of unknown origin. And half the price, which is important. No doubt, this ice performs its task quite successfully. There is only one “but”: if you do not remove the fish from it in time (meat, vegetables - according to your preference), it will taste like red-hot steel. Have you tried the knife blade on your tongue? All cooked food will be with this "aroma". You can eat, but the pleasure is not enough.

Oh, in these ranks they do not save on the quality of goods: iridescent overflows of scales argue with brilliance with ice crumbling. And the smell is fresh, tantalizing: you just want to spit on everything, get to the nearest pier and jump into the emerald waves ... Maybe I will do that, but later. When I get things done. And if they allow it, which is unlikely.

No, I don’t need to come here: here is a fish designed not so much for an exquisite taste as for a tight wallet. And you don’t need to go there, they sell river delicacies there. And I need ... in the very ass. In the back rows, that is. Into the stinkiest rows.

They stink, by the way, not because of the stinginess of the shopkeepers, who count each “bull” [6]when it comes to buying ice carts, but because of the product itself. Sea fish, you know, smells. Especially some, but I need it: for two weeks in a row, Mikis does not want to see anything on his "table" except cumbria - I'm not afraid of this word, a geek in a glorious family of sea dwellers. Quite tasty and nutritious, it smells too strong to be pleasant. I will say more: five minutes of inhalation is enough to hate fish in general, and Cumbria in particular. And when the cat's muzzle, which has just fallen off the bowl, pokes at your face, fragrant, like a whole row in the market ... I want to leave the sea forever. I really want to. About half an hour. Then you get used to it. So I, having taken a few breaths, put the unpleasant sensations aside. However, it’s a little easier for me than for everyone else, because I perceive smells in a slightly different way. My job is to sniff. And sometimes - and sniff out ...

Oh found it! A narrow counter, leaning against the blank wall of the house. There is no shed, there is no extension for storing goods, which means that the owner either expects to sell the fish before the sun shines at its zenith, or ... He is not particularly interested in the proceeds. By the way, there are those who, for various reasons, prioritize the process, not the result. That is, the result is also, but at times it is not at all obvious.

A scrawny peasant with hair faded to dirty white wiped his palms on his apron with deliberate slowness and, narrowing his eyes, asked:

- Do you want to ask the price, or just look?

“One does not interfere with the other, my dear,” I snapped listlessly.

I hate helpful merchants: if I like something or seem tempting, I'll ask myself. And you don't need to jump in with advice! From the opinions of others, only the head swells, but the benefits are not added.

“As you like,” the owner of the shop shook his head, but I no longer looked at him, because ...

A familiar, but completely unexpected smell at such a time and in such a place hit my nostrils.

Stranger . At least one. Very close, it seems, just stretch out your hand ... But - where? And how dangerous can it be? And why didn't I bring my sharp-toothed daneke with me? All that is available from the weapon is a knife. You can say, a canteen: cut the sausage, clean your nails. Badly. Very bad. But I can't give myself the order to retreat. Late. Got on track.

And it pulls strangers precisely from baskets with fish ... We'll have to take a closer look. No, go inside.

- Let me choose for myself?

I'm only asking out of courtesy. Even if it is against, I will start digging into slippery scaly carcasses.

— Noble dan knows a lot about fish? - with some sarcasm in his voice, the merchant asks a counter question.

Yes. Knows. Mainly in eating fish.

Stop. "Noble dan"? Why is he calling me that? Noble in me now - only the origin, because I'm dressed gray: a city dweller with an average income, no more. And hastily braided the braid. And he put his hat on his head. I don’t wear gold on myself, nor do I carry other jewels. So where did the market trader pull out "nobility"? With my rumpled mug after yesterday's booze?

BUT?

Eh…

O.

My face is shaved, though not smooth, but still decent. And you are observant, uncle ... Why do I not like this fact? Okay, let's leave it for later. And now…

I flip open the lid of the basket closest to me and stare blankly at the blue-gray scales beginning to fade, strewn with cloudy crystals. So, the container is not particularly large, and if a person is hiding in it, then the fish on top lie two or three layers, no more. I roll up my sleeve and thrust my right hand into the cold and slippery pile of results from the night's catch. Br-r-r-r-r! Repulsive feelings. However, I'm not exploring the inside of the basket, but looking for a very specific thing. Which here, sadly, is not observed. Let's move on to the next one.

According to the law of meanness, luck smiled at me only on the fifth and, accordingly, the last basket in a row. The fingers, rather chilled from diving into the icy crumble, felt for the belt loop and pulled on it. Up. Throwing ice mixed with cumbria onto the stone slabs of the flooring of the malls and sending a secret cover there. A vessel with a double bottom? Passed, and more than once. What's in it?

I look into the shadow of the wicker walls. And the shadow answers me with a look. Very frightened and very plaintive. A moment later, the baby starts crying.

Post of the City Guard in the Lower Port,

second third of the morning watch

— It’s really embarrassing for me to ask you, dan Raiden, but could you reiterate the circumstances related to the discovery of hes [7] ?

The voice of the junior interrogator is downright oozing with molasses, from which I personally feel sick for the past hour and a half.

I can understand the pleasure with which a modest campaigner got my person into his zealous hands. I can. But approve? Never! If you get me "on duty", brat, I'll make stew out of you. For those who have said goodbye to their last teeth. I mean, I'll cut it. Small-small. In minced meat

I smile and inform the interrogator in an equally sweet tone:

“It’s inconvenient, my dear, without pants on someone else’s balconies at dawn.

The officer blushes, then turns pale and begins to harden his face. asked for it? Hang on now, dear! Even though you are on duty, and even when I am on vacation, I can afford something. For example, express your dissatisfaction in a way that I consider acceptable. For myself, of course.

It's nice to know everything about everyone. Well, at least sometimes. But in this case... No, I didn't peep, God save me! What else was missing! However, the spectacle must have been breathtaking. Curious who he's having an affair with? I bet with the wife of one of the senior officers. And even the amiter itself [8] . Whose wife is no longer a young lady, which gives the situation even more piquancy ... You screwed up, guy. There was no need to piss me off. Because when I'm angry, I... I turn to my secret weapon without hesitation. Not too fair, I agree. Was it fair to make me answer the same questions over and over again? Well, I did not want to write myself, so what? Get your fingers dirty with ink and rub your favorite corn again? Not today. I am resting today. Among other things, at someone else's expense.

Taking advantage of the pause that the interrogator needed to put my thoughts and feelings in order, I fidget with my fifth point on the windowsill, on which I have settled down since the moment I entered the office. It’s hard and slippery, but I don’t want to sit on the proposed chair: even if it looks uncomfortable, it makes little sense to confirm the theoretical calculation with practice. Yes, and the legs, it seems to me, are of different heights. In addition, the view from the window is much more attractive than the dull office on the second floor of the building, given to the full disposal of the City Watch post. From the window I see the port.

It is the port, not the sea. What is interesting in the sea? A thoughtless element that devours ships and unlucky sailors with its greedy mouth. Beautiful, no doubt. Especially in its storm horror. Yes, and it looks good in calm weather, but ... Much more I like to look at the berths, seething with life during the day and lightly dozing during the hours of the night watch. Hundreds of people doing the Cause. Yes, with a capital "D". I don’t know why, but from early childhood I have been in awe of those who know how to do something and, most importantly, do it. Probably because he is lazy. Not only is he born, he also carefully cherishes this quality of his nature. Oh, and I got for laziness from my mother! And her hand is heavy: at one time, daneke Inis deservedly bore the title of royal bodyguard. More precisely, confidants. More specifically, my friends. Although just the last title remained with her even after her retirement, and the queen mother often visits our ancestral home to have a good chat with "the joy of her soul." And also to fill up on grilled salmon, which my daddy, the first fisherman in the area, catches. I myself am not averse to catching fresh fish, but catching ... is lazy. So I take advantage of the fact that my dad loves fishing. Yes, no tea. Because his soul belongs to his mother. However, the information is unverified: he told me so, but I did not seek confirmation or refutation from my mother. For fear of getting hit on the backside with a twig, or even something more weighty. So I take advantage of the fact that my dad loves fishing. Yes, no tea. Because his soul belongs to his mother. However, the information is unverified: he told me so, but I did not seek confirmation or refutation from my mother. For fear of getting hit on the backside with a twig, or even something more weighty. So I take advantage of the fact that my dad loves fishing. Yes, no tea. Because his soul belongs to his mother. However, the information is unverified: he told me so, but I did not seek confirmation or refutation from my mother. For fear of getting hit on the backside with a twig, or even something more weighty.

Oh, the Cuttlefish has docked! And why are they not in a hurry to unload? Again, the land is full of rumors about "forbidden goods" in the holds of Captain Ricks? I could have walked along the pier and sniffed it out, if… If only that oaf hadn't been pecking me like a pickaxe with his desire to show off!

I turned to the interrogator and asked, without letting go of the smile on my lips:

"So what did you want to hear?"

There was no answer, but the officer pouted like a sea urchin, and I wanted to die to poke a needle into my reddened cheeks to release excess steam from them. By the way, I also boiled, and for a long time. What happens when the water boils in a pot for too long? That's right, it's getting smaller and smaller. Water, I mean. And eventually the pan starts to melt itself. I remember that I was surprised by the fact that a vessel filled with water does not deteriorate from fire, and the teacher explained that in this case, heat does not linger within the vessel, but is transmitted through water into the air and thereby protects the metal from destruction. And this happens because water, it turns out, is very good at taking and absorbing heat. But the air is not very good. Something like this ... I didn’t understand everything (and I didn’t try to understand something at that time), but I took my word for it and remembered it. Just in case: suddenly come in handy? After all, even the most ridiculous and seemingly unnecessary things can come in handy ...

“Personally, I would like to talk, not listen. I hope this kindness will be extended to me. A bored, slightly tired voice came from the door, and I jumped to the floor, grinning my teeth in contentment:

— How can you refuse, bright dan?

I'm a little pissed off. For two reasons, oddly enough.

Firstly, dan is not light at all, but very dark. Dark-haired. Not a brunette, but close to it. And tanned. And the eyes do not match the suit: light gray, seemingly faded, although the young man who appeared in the doorway is my age. And, more importantly, my friend.

And secondly, he cannot be denied a conversation, because Viger Ra-Ken holds the position of Deputy High Amiter of Antreya. And, since deputies always work for the boss, Vig is not only the best aware of the events taking place in the city and its environs, but also takes an active part in them. When as an observer, and when as a director and performer of the main role. It remains only to hope that in my humble view, I will still be in the lead roles.

The interrogator convulsively jumped to his feet and stretched out like a string in front of the higher officer, trying to figure out how to proceed. Vig nodded graciously, indicating that the respect shown was not left without attention, and casually ordered:

“Go back to your duties, my dear.

“But the compilation of a report on the incident has not yet been completed ...” the zealous campaigner tried to object, for which he received an ice cold as a reward:

“I'll take care of it myself.

There was no need to repeat it twice: the interrogator rolled out of the office, leaving on the table all the papers in which he entered my sparse and not quite polite answers for a long memory.

Vig sighed, shook off the non-existent dust from the sleeve of the azure-blue uniform jacket, sank into the vacant chair, carefully adjusting the cushion on the seat, and picked up one of the sheets, streaked with even lines. And I was able to take a few breaths to assess the situation and how my claws got stuck in it.

So, the guy looks tired: “bags” are outlined under the eyes, the lips are dry, and the skin color seems a little unhealthy. So you didn't get enough sleep, my friend? Sadly. But to find out the reason itself, perhaps, I will not. If he wants, he will tell. If he doesn't want to, it's his choice. Then he will lose comfort in strong male embraces and a confidential conversation for three: me, him and a keg of ale. So that…

- What are you staring at? Vig asked, not taking his eyes off his reading.

How did you know I was looking at you?

- Are you looking? Thin lips curved into a tight smile. - Staring - it will be more accurate.

- Well, I'm staring ... But still, how?

You have your secrets, I have mine. You don't share with me?

"Just ask, I'll be happy to..."

“Would you bury me in the details of your craft?” Dismiss, and so things are up to the throat. And some even throw up on top. - Dan the re-amitter finally put down the unfinished report and leaned back in his chair, clasping his thin but strong fingers in the lock. - So?

- So?

I sit down on the edge of the previously rejected chair. Solely to pay respect to an old friend. So it is, the front legs are shorter than the back! Okay, I'll be patient for a few minutes.

- Tell me.

- What?

“Ray, please don’t be foolish…” Vig wrinkled his hunchbacked nose in annoyance. “I'm not in the mood to have fun.

Because you didn't get enough sleep, right?

- Sniffed? Gray eyes narrowed.

— How can you, bright dan! It's all written on your face. Because of the service?

“If only… Lelia got sick.

- For a long time?

- It will be three days.

“I didn’t know… Seriously?

“Kids at that age are serious,” Vig sighed. “But Sirel assured me that there would be no complications.

“Well, if Sirel said so, then it will be fine!” — I let in the voice of confidence. A little too much, but in such a matter as reassuring parents, it does not prevent him from appearing overly calm himself.

Lelia is the heiress of the Ra-Ken family, a charming six-year-old baby, the only memory of her late wife left in this world. It is no wonder that Vig is shaking over her daughter from morning to evening: she does not want to cope with a new loss. And rightly so - than to lose and then look again, it is better to protect what you hold in your hands. Until it decides to leave. At the appointed time.

Everything will be fine, friend! The court physician knows his business and will not allow the heart of a person who ensures peace and tranquility in all of Antrey to be wounded by grief: too wasteful, too dangerous. And the safety of the throne and the city entrusted to the queen is above all, as we are drummed into from childhood. They hammer in so hard that at some point you begin to believe in it sacredly. But it’s easier for me: I am familiar with Her Majesty. To the degree of closeness, when politics and life become one whole, and you no longer need to believe, because you feel it.

— Do you think? The excitement in Vig's voice snapped me out of my thoughts.

- Sure!

- With your lips ...

“But you didn’t come to talk to me about Lil’s health, did you?”

- Unfortunately. The confession sounds completely sincere. — What hhag [9] carried you to the market in the morning?

- Yes, so ... It took.

- Did you want to eat fish from drinking? Vig squints maliciously.

- With a drink?! I jump to my feet and lean over the table indignantly. — Yes, in one eye was not!

- And in the heart? is a quiet question.

- What does it have to do with…

- Did Savek disperse all the visitors again? Of course, his denunciations give me some pleasure with a colorful description of your eccentricities, but ... Believe me, I will only be glad if you stop drinking.

“Because it interferes with my service?”

“And so, too,” a slight nod. “But I don’t give a damn about the service!” Do you want me to talk to Nais?

- No need.

“I won’t pressure her, Ray. I'll just explain.

- No need.

She is not stupid and understands everything. Maybe…

- I said no!

I can hardly restrain myself from grabbing onto straight shoulders and shaking their owner harder. Ra-Ken is taller than me, but we are about equal in weight, and I spend more time outdoors, and ... By the way, a mystery: why did Vig have time to tan, and I am still pale as a sail on a moonlit night? The Re-Amiter must still be taking walks. And he doesn't need to hang out in the sun all day, hiding his eyes in the shade of a wide-brimmed hat ... Oh, I'll get to your secrets, my friend! I sniff everything. When I lose my last shame and conscience, not before. Because spying on a friend is one of the most dangerous sins. From him and to betrayal is not far off.

- Cool down!

Vig leans back in his chair a little. Scared? In vain: I will never harm a friend. Unless I put a flashlight under my eye, but for the cause! Nothing to climb into my personal life. Especially since I can't get into it myself.

- Please leave this topic! - I beg. Heartily.

“As you wish… Then let’s get back to official duties.” What made you crawl out of bed and honor the malls with your presence?

- Fish.

- Fish? The thick eyebrows rose, but immediately returned to their place. — Logically. Which?

— Cumbria.

— Cumbria? Vig makes a contemptuous face. "Since when do you prefer this stinker?"

- Not me. Mikis.

- Your friend?

He saw the black cattle that disturbed my sleep, and repeatedly, why does he ask again, and even with such sincere interest? Probably forgot. If you ever heard the nickname of my domestic nightmare. But I am sure: Lelia, who has been fiddling with the animal for several hours, remembers perfectly well the name of her playmate.

- My owner's cat.

— Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah! - Satisfaction with the heard re-amiteru lasts for a short time, and gray eyes flash in surprise. — You went to the market for fish for the cat?!

- Well, yes.

“Oh… Now I understand why the interrogator couldn’t get anything out of you.

Why is this understandable?

- Terrible Raiden Ra-Gro, who loves no one, touchingly takes care of a pet! Well, the news! There will be something to tell at the next ball.

“You won't do it.

- I will.

- You won't!

- I'll do it!

- And I say ...

A sharp slap of the palms on the table.

- Okay, fool around, and it will be.

- You won't tell anyone? I look pitifully into the steel gray eyes.

- No one.

- Do you promise?

- Promise.

- True true?

— Ray! You're not twelve years old, really! Can we cross our little fingers? For greater fidelity?

“That would be nice,” I scratch my neck dreamily.

- You will not get it! All jokes aside. When did you feel hesa?

— When I got to the stink fish.

- Distance?

I remember the original disposition.

- Three feet.

You say you didn't get drunk! Vig says reproachfully, and I shrug. No, not guilty: I just agree with the fact that they poked me in the nose. The same nose that I work with.

And the interrogation continues:

What could you discern?

— Uncertainty. Tension. Fear. Perhaps the fear was the most.