by Vitaly Zykov
Rual snorted into the man's cheek, gently bit his earlobe and like an arrow sped away into the bushes.
– What's going on here? – came a sleepy voice of Darg from the fire.
– Oh, master, nothing – said Yarik spreading his hands. – An animal was rustling here in the bushes, so I was trying to lure it.
– And?.. – Darg asked yawning.
– Well, at first it ran up, then tried to bite me, then fled out into the bushes, – pointed Yarik.
– And you just stood there yawning?! – Darg suddenly became furious. – The beast was running hither and fro, and you have not even tried to knock it out with your ax for example?!
Yarik did not expect such turn of events and now was just humbly keeping silence, shrugging his shoulders to particularly loud yelling. Suddenly, he felt a wave of aggression from the bushes where Rual was hiding. Judging by the feelings Rual was going to attack the swearing man.
«Quiet, Jumper! Quiet! Don't dare!» – Yarik cried silently. The wave of protest came in reply, but an attack did not follow. Yarik wiped sweat. Ghol's words about deadly little beasts did not leave his head.
Having blown off steam, Darg spat in exasperation and ordered briefly:
– Make a breakfast! And for the name of Jurga, make it at least a little more edible today!
Darg himself picked up the sword and the dagger and came into the middle of the lawn. Yarik breathed in with a hissing sound and froze near the fire. Black worms of envy stirred in his heart. He almost never envied anybody in his life! Sometimes, of course, there was a fleeting feeling of envy because of someone's luck, but it has never been like now. For several days already Yarik had witnessed a miracle, if the highest edge of art could be considered a miracle, albeit the art of killing. Men have always been fascinated by the things bearing an imprint of predation and aggression, and here was the quintessence of danger, the focal point of the essence of predator.
Every morning, just like now, Darg came out into an open space and began the dance of death. His hands armed with the dagger and the sword, were weaving an invisible tracery, bringing death to everyone who would dare to disturb its predatory beauty. Jumping passed into the flip-flops and rolls, Darg stood frozen, then burst into a cascade of staggering blows. He flowed from one stance to another, as if his body was completely devoid of bones. All his movements were blurred, indistinct because of the exorbitant speed. Yarik could see them only due to his own ability for fast perception. Yarik did know why he deserved such abilities, but at this point Yarik witnessed the demonstration of the highest skill, to which you should strive, and which you should want to achieve. At those moments his soul froze for a second, and then fell down like a stone into the abyss of despair. This art is not for slaves!
Yarik sighed again and began to prepare breakfast, from time to time, striving to look at the fascinating spectacle at least from the corner of his eye. He would like to keep watching this mastery as man could incessantly observe dancing flames or running water… But he could not. If the breakfast is not ready when the training is over it's not praising that the master will do!
Avras Chismar sharply stopped his tirr opposite the tavern «The noble robber». Once again he marveled at human stupidity, and went inside. Soft gloom and empty hall testified that this tavern did not differ in the morning hours from the same facilities in Gorkh or in Grold. The host was rearranging chairs, quietly humming under his breath. Avras realized the fact that it was the host himself due to the man's voluminous belly. Such people do not work as simple servants!
– Good morning, honorable man! – The magician waved his hand in salute and came up to the fat man.
The latter raised his head and squinted at the newcomer in plain clothes of a traveler, covered with dust. His look involuntarily lingered on a worn out strange-curved sheath on the belt of the stranger. He could have thought that it was a peasant sickle, if only it did not have a handle of expensive breed of ebony inlaid with ivory. The puzzled innkeeper scratched his chin and returned the greeting in a way like it was a really good morning today and he was extremely happy to see the guest.
– I'm not for long. I'm interested in two travelers. I was told that they had been here. – Avras uttered the last sentence like a question.
The innkeeper chewed his lower lip, and drawled:
– Well, it's not in my rules to gossip about my lodgers… – He paused, his eyes tenaciously noticed a gold disk whirling in the fingers of the stranger. – Although, I think you are more than a respectable man, and certainly wish no harm to my former guests – the fat man drawled even more thoughtfully.
The first disk was immediately put on the table and the fingers began to twirl the next one.
– There were two men. About five days ago. Dressed decently, but clearly in recently bought clothes. Their clothes were unworn. Surely bought from old Hasim. One of them was a slave…
– Why did you decide so? – Avras interrupted the host a little rudely.
– Well, why? There was the Dark collar of kord on the young guy – the fat man explained as if to a small child.
– The Dark collar?! Are you not mistaken? – The magician's eyebrows shot up.
Offended, the fat man even started to breath differently.
– Of course not! My father told me long ago – dark skin with the chain of small links along the edges, if you look closely, it seems that the air as if trembles a little around the neck.
«It was him! The stranger from Zaarr'h'dorr!» – The thought stuck in Avras' brain like a lightning. Glory to the Dark gods, that he came to this city, and double glory for asking about the news. Almost all people were talking about the murder of the robber Kurgaz and two newcomers from the burnt Polot connected to this affair. And Avras began the search. He did not find the merchant Turan – the latter had already gone somewhere on his business, so the magician continued his search in the inns, it was good that there were only four inns in the city. And in the first place the luck was waiting for him!
Would you deign to describe those people in more details? – Avras could be polite when he wanted to.
– Well, I do not really remember them. Although one of them, the master, made a fight here, and then took two girls. He took one of them for himself, and gave the other to his slave. I suppose they will be able to tell you better! – The innkeeper said pretty confidently, looking questioningly at the coins.
Avras nodded and pushed two gold disks to the innkeeper.
– How can I find these girls?
– It's not too difficult. They are sitting in the kitchen! There was no work at night and now they are stuffing their bellies. Not keeping their figures! – Said the fat man reproachfully.
Avras was already not listening, he walked briskly toward the kitchen – only one door in the corner of the hall could lead there. There really were two girls of quite decent appearance who were twittering about something with the cook. On seeing a stranger the women fell silent and stared at him expectantly. Here Avras found a common ground even more quickly. A couple of coins and the conversation acquired the right direction, and now the trained mind of the sorcerer was sifting thoughts of the women to find the needed images.
Half an hour later the magician came out with a satisfied smile. With a mind effort he retrieved the faces of these two people before his mind eye. A warrior about thirty years old and a young slave, whose features were strangely blurred, preventing to determine his age precisely. Well, Zaarr'h'dorr always gives something and takes something in return! If you survive, of course. Avras grinned again and leaped onto the saddle. Now he had a very distinct goal and a way to achieve it: the fugitives could have chosen only one way. He had no doubt that they were fugitives. He recognized the warrior as Darg, the fifth son of Sohog who clearly strove to get away from the brotherly love of Teorn. Who probably had already sent assassins to assure Darg of his best feelings.
Avras laughed hoarsely and hit sides of the tirr with his heels. There
's still something attractive in chance events!
CHAPTER 29
The way to the suburb of Glorrt passed without any incident for Yarik and his master. Quite casually and quietly. Neither sudden attacks of robbers, nor troubles with the locals, who were extremely downtrodden and intimidated here, happened to them.
Yarik walked slowly, lazily paddling the fine dust with his feet and chewing a fruit of drul[7] – a firm fruit, sweet and sour, like an apple, but growing on small squat bushes. He got an impressive supply of these fruits in the last village with a strange name – Brewvil. Although why strange? Judging by the smell hovering over the village, some hooch was brewing there indeed. Yarik bought the druls for a copper coin from an old woman who was yawning sleepily on a bench near the road. That coin was Yarik's last personal money. Darg did not object against such a waste, but rejected the respectfully suggested fruit. So now Yarik was walking, happy biting into a juicy fruit and spitting seeds under his feet.
Near the city the traffic intensified. While during the whole way some groups of riders passed by them only a few times, here they met lazily rolling carts pulled by tired draft tirrs every now and again. Sometimes arrogant riders swept past on the tirrs.
Finally the travelers came to something resembling an outpost. It was a wooden box of unknown color with four guards who stood near the road and stopped all the people heading into the city.
– Hey, soldier! How much does it cost to pass into the city? – Darg politely called the thickest man.
Yarik noticed the guard's eyes light up as he began to lick his lips, turning the travelers' pockets inside out with his gaze and assessing their ability to pay.
– Five gylts each! – He blurted out finally.
Darg shrugged and counted out the coins. There was no sense in starting a dispute. When they passed the outpost and were a sufficient distance away from the joyful guards, Yarik asked:
– Master, where are we going now?
Darg looked at him gloomily and muttered:
– At the traffic station. It's necessary to know the prices. Then to a tavern and then to look for a job!
They went silent for a while, then Yarik could not resist and asked:
– Master, why don't you sell me? You can get a lot of money, while now you have to feed me…
– You are my reserve! – Darg laughed. – I'll sell you if it is unbearable, and moreover, they say that kords are more expensive on Grold. And about me feeding you, you will make up for it very soon!
Yarik nodded dutifully and swore under his breath.
Everything was not as rose-colored as it seemed at first. On the traffic station they knew that transportation of two men would cost five farlongs, and it was an unaffordable amount for Yarik's master. And after all they needed more money for buying space on a ship in New Givart! Therefore, they were obliged to leave the station, casting farewell glances on the teams of racereptiles.
Giving way to the circumstances they were forced to stay in a mediocre tavern called «Luck of Skeleton». Like everywhere else, there were rooms for rent upstairs, and Darg took one of them. Yarik even did not even see this room, he was put in a barn near the stables. All that plus hearty meal cost nothing for Darg. Yarik took care of that himself. His master agreed with Ryhg Stout, the host of the tavern, about leasing Yarik. The kord had to perform almost any work, for this they could stay and eat in the tavern, and besides that Darg's purse replenished with a couple of copper coins daily.
In terms of survival, it was an ideal solution. But Yarik looked upon this matter in a different way. Probably only sinners in the local hell worked so hard! Nobody here heard about the fixed working hours, safety and treating the workforce in a humane way. Yarik was a slave, and that was enough. And considering that this slave could not escape and did not belong to the innkeeper, you can imagine what the work at the tavern cost to Yarik.
His day started at five o'clock in the morning with cleaning the halls. Muttering curses, Yarik helped maids to wash the floors and take out the slops. Then he was sent to the back yard to chop firewood. On the first day of such work Yarik beat his palms into bloody blisters, and his back ached as if wings began to grow there. The huge chopper, which the young slave used to split the gnarled stumps, became hateful for him on the very second day of this work. At lunchtime, he was allowed to eat a bowl of hot porridge flavored with meat sauce, without ever getting to see the meat itself. After lunch, he had to run with a variety of errands around the whole city – to deliver something to one client then take something from another one and deliver to the next client. When your muscles are bursting from overstrain, and you have to wander around the city, such work is perceived as ordinary mockery.
Yarik was allowed to return back to the barn only at deep night. He collapsed on a straw mat with a crust of bread in a state of complete exhaustion – both physical and moral. He saw his master very, very rarely. Yarik realized that his master had some problems too on about seventh day of their stay in the «Luck of Skeleton».
It was one of those rare quiet moments when dinner was already over and there were no important errands yet. At times like this, they handed Yarik a broom and forced him to sweep the yard, which was not hard work. Although, the slave noticed with surprise that he started to get tired much less. Apparently, his body had already begun to adapt to the change of load.
And now, lazily moving the broom Yarik heard the gate through which they took out the trash creaked softly. He looked around and met Darg's gaze. Although it was hard to recognize him – a huge bruise over half of his face, limping on one leg, his shirt in blood stains. Yarik threw the broom aside and flew to his master, exposing his shoulder for support.
– Master! Let's sit down here, on the log! – Yarik said hastily.
Darg slumped onto the log cursing through his teeth. At this point Yarik noticed that his master had no weapon.
– Master, where's your weapon? – He could not resist the question.
Darg waved his hand:
– In the room! Weapon is not permitted in these fights!
– What fights? – Yarik asked surprisingly.
– Melee fighting for money. I have participated in them for a week. I have beaten everybody there until I met this slitty-eyed bastard! – Then Darg listed all ancestors of this man and relationships which they had with the creatures of the Forest.
– How much have you lost?
– Almost everything I've won during the week! Seven gold coins! This was the price of participating in that fight. I only have five now… – Darg swore again and continued: – Tomorrow I'll rest and go into the circle again.
Yarik paused for a moment, then still asked:
– Maybe it's not worth it? Why do we have to move in a carriage? We can go on foot, you see, and slowly get where we need.
– Idiot!.. – Darg groaned. – We will go through Saurma! My damn brother had sent his men there first of all. He gave some money to the right men, and my description had already been sent to all outposts. The local magicians could find people simply for a bet, left along a well-paid search!
– Then what's the point in going through Saurma? After all, they will recognize you in a carriage too.
– And so what? Everyone who goes through Saurma in passenger carriages is inviolable according to the old treaty with East Cayen. Clear?
Yarik nodded, but did not stop questioning:
– But, is it safe to stay for a long time in one place? We could be found.
Darg did not answer, just remembered all the gods at once and demanded to help him to get into the room. Obviously, the last question worried him too.
The same day, Yarik, lying on his mat, called Rual. All this week Yarik vaguely felt like the little beast was circling somewhere outside the city, obeying the last order to stay in the forest. Yarik concentrated and plunged somewhere into the region of his heart and sent a prolonged call. And immediately he felt a strange echo of joy. Having felt that connection was
established, he sent an image of the place where he was and a wave of heat came in response. Now, he could only wait.
At first Yarik was not going to sleep, but fatigue crept so imperceptibly, that he did not even understand how he had fallen asleep. He was awakened by a wet nose poking in his face and a little rough tongue that strived to leave no dry place on his face.
– Enough, enough – Yarik whispered barely audible. – I have a job for you.
With these words, Yarik strained his night vision and caught the eyes of the beast. It immediately stopped squirming and froze waiting.
– I need you to let me into your mind. Do you understand me? – Yarik whispered again, speaking more to himself.
He had this idea for several days already. It appeared when Yarik remembered his dreams, where he felt being in the body of Rual and even gave him some orders.
– Well, I assume silence means consent! – Yarik chuckled, trying to reassure himself. That was really necessary, since he realized with surprise that full conscious immersion into the mind of the animal were a little unnerving. Moreover, it caused inner trembling and something resembling fear.
Yarik made a deep breath, closed his eyes and began to sink into the depths of his own consciousness, feeling the flow of energy inside his body and at last he heard the steady beating somewhere in the region of his sternum. It was strange, as if being double. The beating of two hearts working duo should sound like that. Yarik tried to isolate the beating of the smaller illusory heart and insulate himself from other feelings. Finally he did it, and began to adjust to its rhythm. Done! And, as if rushing into the pool, Yarik dived into the depths of the small heart…
Yarik opened his eyes and shuddered. He himself was lying in front of him, only his head was suspiciously big and his breathing was absent… almost. Yarik panicked what would happen if his body dies?! He listened. A strike, then silence. Weary moments lasted stretching into painful hours then another strike. It's beating!
Yarik jumped onto the huge chest. A squeak came from the small mouth. When Yarik was in his own body, he did not seem so huge to himself. And where is Rual's mind?! Yarik briefly plunged into a light trance and immediately found the mind of the beast. He was not asleep and was completely active without any panic or fear. As if it was going exactly as it should. Yarik had a feeling that it was not him who seized control of the beast's body, pushing the owner of this body aside, but rather the beast himself consciously sharing capabilities of his mind.
