by Vitaly Zykov
When the lady and her bodyguard passed him, Yarik got up and continued his way thoughtfully. His thoughtfulness was explained by the fact that when the young woman walked past, he felt with his keen sense of smell her scent. There were the bitterness of wormwood, the heat of the sun, the scent of herbs and youth, it was an exciting smell, but one point confused him – people never smell like that…
CHAPTER 36
The air journey was coming to its end. Only once the «Grape bunch» delayed for several hours somewhere in the east of Zelod. There was a hurricane, and the aircraft descended to the ground and was fixed with the three anchors. The jolting was bad! That case was the only time when the passengers were regretting their choice of transport. Even Yarik's stomach got mad despite all his endurance. As the captain said it afterwards, this storm outstood with unheard force and rage, so the passengers were some way «lucky» to experience it.
As soon as the weather calmed down, the bubble continued to move to Gonul. Yarik knew about the endpoint of their journey from his master. Needing an interlocutor, Darg opened up one time and told about his future plans.
It turned out, that he was going to be quite a legit person, to pass exams in a fencing school and get a rank, which would open a lot of options for him versus an ordinary stranger. After that he was planning to become a bit familiar among the local nobility, then Darg aimed to move to the capital and to start living there. According to Yarik's opinion this plan was not characterized with modesty. In his misfortune, he asked in a sarcastic voice why his master did not want the same work, which he was engaged in in Jugha.
The master was wildly infuriated. Having knocked the slave to the floor, he kicked him like mad several times, then forced Yarik to stand up and clearly pronouncing words, repeated a set of prohibitions: Yarik was forbidden to tell anyone about the past of his master in Sarduor and about his illegal business in Gamzar. The Dark collar of kord was the guarantee of abidance by rules. As a confirmation of these words Yarik felt for a moment a ring of fire around his neck. The slave already knew: this forbiddance could be canceled only by Darg himself. A new owner could not force Yarik to talk about these taboo subjects. Thus the foreboding of his impending sale finally formed in the slave's heart. Darg became too noticeable, having such property as a kord. Yarik never met kords throughout their journey in Grold. There were plenty of them in Sarduor, but here only a very rich man could afford to have a kord, and even in Sarduor he had never seen a kord in Dark collar.
So, he had to prepare for escape more intensively. Again and again Yarik plunged into trance and made his way through the web of the submission spell. The narrow, winding channel to the core of his magic was already two-thirds of the way, but he needed more and more energy, his body was working to the point of exhaustion. But the slave continued his work. Impatience was burning him from within, the closeness of his steady beating Source was maddening. He wanted to rush forward and dive into the depths of magic, giving the feeling of power and invulnerability…
On the eighth day of the journey they saw the roofs of a big city ahead. Oddly enough, the big cities here were enclosing with robust stone walls. This time it was the same. Small huts of suburbs formed a site resembling a giant anthill, that surrounded the tall walls of the Inner city, where the local rich men and the aristocracy lived.
The bubble station was located in the Lower city. Several bubbles were already unloading at the tower piers. This time the «Grape bunch» moored somewhere in the middle of the tower. The passengers began to stir collecting their things.
Darg with his slave were almost the last ones to leave the bubble and the station. They left their tickets at the exit, instead Darg got a new tag on which was written who its owner was. The nomad immediately headed toward the gate into the Inner city. Street traffic was not too dense here, and the way took about half an hour. The guards at the gate required no money for passing, which was a nice addition to their impression of the new city. The people in the Inner city were not different from other citizens, except that they all were dressed much richer. There were a lot of fountains, small squares, gardens and parks in the Inner city. And there was no stench of slops here. The cobblestone road shone with cleanliness. It was felt that local mayors had time to even take care of decoration of the city. Some passers-by said to Darg that in the center of the city was the palace of vicegerent of the king, but he did not go there.
At first Darg questioned a patrol of city guards about the best hotel, a shoemaker's shop, a tailor, about local fencing school and about dwarves' bank. Such a variety of questions interested the corporal of guards, through the manners of a professional soldier, he recognized a twin soul in Darg. His answer was military laconic and explicit, and a coin of five kelats made him the best friend of the curious visitor.
Darg bid farewell to the guards and headed to the «King's Sceptre» – the hotel recommended by the corporal. The local price was clearly trying to match the sonorous name. Five farlongs per night for a mid-range two-room suite plus separate fee for meals. Extremely high price, but it did not trouble Darg. He calmly paid for five days, and went upstairs. Then Yarik had to run errands. He delivered to the innkeeper the request to warm some water and invite a local barber, then he ran for the tailor and shoemaker. Yarik easily managed to find the signs described by the guard, and after an hour he reported to his master who was luxuriating in the copper bath that craftsmen had promised to come at three in the afternoon.
Yarik was greatly surprised that his master was taking a bath in the middle of the room. A cute maid was rubbing his back and kneading his muscles. Judging by her sly look, she would not object to continue the acquaintance, but Darg was paying no attention to her, thinking about something. His appearance testified that barber had already been here – Darg's deliberately grown beard had transformed into a skimpy one, which was called goatee on Earth, his long hair became shorter and handsomely combed back. His amulet was hanging on Darg's wet neck. Actually, dark-haired, with an overwhelming magnetism of his gaze, Darg looked now a little demonically perfectly corresponding to what he was doing in Gamzar.
Having finished to take a bath, Darg began lunch. A tray laden with ornate dishes, was brought into the room, which showed how undoubtedly high the innkeeper appreciated his new client.
– Wash yourself until the water is carried away – Darg ordered vaguely. – You still stink of the dungeons.
Yarik, who could say that he smelled like a man who wore the same clothes for several days, nodded respectfully. He tried to not think about disgust. Disgust not for slave who lived for weeks in underground dumps and ate the meat of rats and other filthy creatures. But a vein of grudge trembled somewhere deep in his heart.
The soapy water looked dirty, but Yarik calmly undressed and plunged into the bath. Trying not to spill the water, he began to vigorously rub his skin. Not taken into account disgust and revulsion, his body really desired purity. Yarik finished bathing, got out from the bath and began to wipe himself with a piece of cloth. At this point the maid came inside the room. In former times, unimaginably long ago, Yarik would have tried to cover his private parts, but now he was a different man. Now Yarik paid no attention to the girl and continued indifferently to wipe dry. The girl for some reason stopped near him and began look at the slave with some sort of morbid curiosity and savage shamelessness. Mentally, Yarik grinned ruefully – why was the girl looking at him as at some amazing thing? He had grown nothing shocking or curious.
Suddenly she ran her finger over Yarik's shoulder, over the place wounded long ago by Tarks. The magic in their weapon was so deadly that Yarik's amazing ability to regenerate was powerless here. Yarik thought that his shoulder was completely healed, but later there appeared an ugly scar. Even more rude traces of old wounds adorned his face. Four thin threads of scars were crossing the left half of his face, reviling their owner's tough life. In addition, on his right hand the scars formed a strange figure, and only Yarik knew that it was his True name.
Yarik allowed the girl to examine himself. He did not mind – she was free, but he did not lower his eyes, his gentle look continued to survey the delicate oval of her face.
– You are so lean, no fat at all – the girl's lips whispered in amazement. – But you are very sinewy. These are not muscles but steel ropes. I knew a blacksmith, he had hefty muscles, your muscles are the same strong. Are you a warrior?
– I'm a slave, mistress. An eternal slave. – Yarik tried to keep his voice sound not too hoarse.
But she heard ice in the voice of the man in front of her, and saw ice in his eyes.
– Oh, if you were not a slave, I would have warmed you – said the maid languidly, and began to collect Darg's things. Probably, he ordered to carry them to the laundry.
Swaying her hips, the girl left the room, giving way to two burly men who should take out the bath.
– Master, can I carry my clothes to the laundry or I should wash them myself? – Yarik asked his master entering the other room.
Darg had already finished lunch and now was wiping his lips with a napkin. The last season worked in his favor – Darg obviously had taken lessons of etiquette. It looked like he planned entering into the local high society for a quite long time.
– Give them to the maid. Apparently, I have to buy some clothes for you too. – Darg was speaking with such haughty laziness as if generations of high-ranking ancestors stood behind his back.
At this point, somebody knocked on the door. Darg allowed to enter in a loud voice and went to the first room. A tailor and a shoemaker came into the room. Dignity and self-confidence were feeling in their manners. These people knew their own worth, and the fact that they had come to the client's place, had raised the cost of their services greatly.
– Dear, I need a couple of costumes for everyday and one for holiday wear, and two pairs of boots. What can you offer me? – Darg said assertively, sounding like a man who knows what he wants.
The craftsmen nodded respectfully, and began bustling usual in such cases – measurements and choices of color and type of fabric or leather. Oddly enough, Darg answered knowledgeably and mainly emphasized current trends of local fashion.
Yarik sat quietly in the second room, dressed only in a loincloth, eating the remnants of food on the tray. It was good that there was enough and he could eat well. At the same time the slave was listening to his feelings, trying to find Rual. While Yarik was searching for a tailor and a shoemaker, Rual went to get acquainted with the surroundings. Having found the beast's consciousness Yarik watched for a few moments with the beast's eyes some yard where were roaming white birds similar to chickens. The birds were busily rummaging in the ground unsuspecting a danger, but in Rual's mind had already matured a plan to seize the thickest bird and pull it into a nook under the roof of a small shed. Yarik mentally chuckled – his four-legged friend was successfully solving his food problem somewhere in the suburbs. Yarik sent him an order to not catch people's eye and to behave carefully and left the consciousness of the beast…
When Yarik opened his eyes and shook off the trance, he heard the words of the master, concerning himself.
– By the way, dear, can you offer something for my slave? Something simple. – Apparently, Darg asked only the tailor.
– Of course, master, but can I see him? I have some ready-made clothes, all we need is just to fit them to the figure.
– Slave, come here! – Darg raised his voice a little.
Yarik quickly leapt on his feet, and slid into the master's room. He was examined much less carefully than his master, a couple of glances at Yarik's lean figure was enough for the experienced tailor.
– Master, we will send your new garments tomorrow morning, as we agreed. But, you know, this will increase the price strongly. We'll have to work all night… – Taylor paused, allowing Darg to think.
– I understand, but I continue to insist on the completion of the order as soon as it possible. – The former nomadic leader said these words with importance of a capital snob.
At this point his interlocutors bowed and left the room.
– Can I ask my master? – Yarik paused, waiting for a nod, then continued: – Why such a hurry? You can wait all these garments for a week. After all, my lord is going to stay here for five or six of weeks at least…
– I want everybody talking about a new foreigner in the city who has the money and is not afraid to spend them. I put the basis gambling money away playing cards with local aristocrats on the «Grape bunch», and now I'm moving on. – He was speaking thoughtfully, it seemed he was not objecting the boldness of his slave.
– But why? – Yarik ventured to ask.
Darg looked in his eye and said:
– In order to be considered a serious man, be given citizenship of the local king and then be helped with my career. I told you, I'm not going to spend all my life in some hole…
Yarik bowed, thanking for the answer, and stepped aside. The determination of his master struck him for the umpteenth time…
The following morning, errand boys came from the shoemaker and the tailor with parcels. All the purchases had cost a hundred farlongs for Darg. Yarik just amazed at his master's spending. An ordinary citizen could live a year and a half for this amount of money, and Darg had spent it in a day. Judging by the greatly reduced pouch, money had come to an end, and the next point on their agenda was a visit to the bank.
After breakfast Darg immediately dressed in a dark brown jacket with gold braid and light-brown pants. Under the jacket he put on a white shirt with lace cuffs which he released from under the jacket sleeves. On his feet were soft boots of snakeskin. The sword in the worn sheath completed his image. A dapper-dressed man looking like a representative of the local nobility stood before Yarik. The only missing detail was the lack of any jewelry. Yarik put on his old clothes, which were already dry after washing.
When Darg was coming out of the hotel, all the servants bowed respectfully. On the street Yarik was moving behind the right shoulder of his master, trying to keep the distance strictly. Despite the early morning hours, they met a lot of richly dressed men who bowed politely to Darg. They leisurely walked half of the Inner city and came to a two-story building with thick walls. From outside, this stone building looked like a fort ready for a siege at any moment. A huge signboard above the double doors informed that this was a dwarves' bank. Calligraphic script in Toarn reported that it was the bank «Stone Vault», below were some runes of a foreign language lined in neat rows as if holding defense. Here Yarik got acquainted with a specimen of Dwarven letters at the first time.
Yarik ran ahead of his master, opened the door, letting Darg into the room. The reception hall of the bank met the visitors with silence and watchful gaze of a young dwarf, peering at them through a small window in a wooden screen.
– What would the honorable man like? – Grimly asked the dwarf, who had already noticed the collar on Yarik's neck.
– I would like to check the status of my account – hissed Darg, who clearly disliked dwarves. – This is the number of my account opened in your bank in Gamzar and all the necessary papers.
Dwarf looked even more grimly, as if the man standing in front of him just asked to borrow some money, then seized the papers and disappeared. He was absent about twenty minutes. Darg already got bored and now was whistling motif of a frivolous song which Yarik had heard around fires in nomad camps of Gwonks.
– Really, you are a depositor of our bank, – the grim dwarf re-emerged in the window, then he cleared his throat and continued – my congratulations. You have three thousand seven hundred and one farlongs, two silver kelats and one gylt. What do you want to do?
– I want three hundred farlongs, two hundred in gold and one hundred in coins of five kelats each – Darg began to list. – Plus I'd like to get a checkbook of your bank.
– Wait here. – The window shut with a clang, and minutes of waiting flowed again.
This time, t
he dwarf returned much faster and brought three pleasantly tinkling bags. Besides them, he brought a leather-bound book with gold lettering. Darg opened the book randomly, and Yarik took a glimpse on the paper with multi-color printing. The level of printing here was not medieval, clearly.
Darg signed some documents, left the bank and went to a new address. Yarik was carrying the money in a special purse, which Darg had ordered yesterday. As Yarik remembered from yesterday's conversation, they were now looking for a local fencing hall or a school.
It turned out that they were heading to the fencing hall, indeed. The hall was placed in a three-storey building with narrow windows not far from the city rampart. It seemed that this building was formerly used as barracks for the city guards. Yarik realized differences between a school and a hall a little later, now he ran ahead again and opened the door.
Entering inside, they found themselves in a large reception room, where at the far wall opposite the door an elderly man with a rough scar across his face was sitting at the table. This scar and his weathered skin revealed that the man had seen a lot in his life. When they had approached the table, Yarik saw that the former soldier was missing one leg. The veteran of unknown wars raised his faded eyes to Darg, immediately noticed the tag on Darg's neck, and asked:
– What does the honorable foreigner wish?
Darg grinned:
– To fence!
– I do not see your swordsman's sign – said the veteran, sarcastically curving the corner of his mouth. – Or maybe master does not know the law? State fencing halls and schools may be attended only by citizens of the kingdoms of the United Protectorate, or fighters who have a rank of swordsman or Sword Master, in order to replenish knowledge of mentors with every fight. Or in case when a man desires to get a new rank.
