Dragon Heart

by Kirill Klevanski

  Demons and gods! Evening Stars!

  He looked at the stone again and gulped nervously. How vast this world truly was and how long the path of cultivation!

  “Now look.” Paris went over to Hadjar. He had the golden cup in his left hand and a long needle in his right. “I’ll take a bit of your blood, mix it with a special solution, and then mold it on the stone. I can understand the direction and depth of your talent according to the color of the hieroglyphs that appear. However, I need your consent.”

  Hadjar looked at the stela, then at the Researcher, and then at the stela again. Over the years he’d spent wandering, serving in the army, and traveling through the desert, he’d learned to read people quite well (although he’d failed with Ilmena). Hadjar believed that Paris didn’t wish him any harm. Right now, at least.

  “I agr-”

  Even before Hadjar finished speaking, the Researcher thrust the needle into his palm, and then dripped the blood into the bowl. He added the solution, mixed them up, and then really splashed the contents onto the red stone vigorously. The scarlet liquid spread out, filling the furrows which formed the hieroglyphs.

  “Do you see it?” Paris pointed a finger at what was happening. Contrary to the laws of physics, the liquid filled the hieroglyphs unevenly. It skirted some of them, and all the trickles sought out a single symbol, the lowest hieroglyph. “It’s a pretty entertaining sight, isn’t it?”

  “What does that symbol mean?” Hadjar asked after almost the entire solution had gathered in one of the hieroglyphs, leaving a few drops behind here and there or bypassing some of the others completely.

  “You see,” Paris was clearly puzzled by what was happening, “we don’t know their exact meaning. We got the stone after an imperial caravan fell into quicksand. We don’t know where they were bringing it.”

  Hadjar could take a guess, but said nothing.

  “In all honesty, this particular hieroglyph can mean a sword, a saber, or war, or music, or dancing, or fishing. Or maybe nothing at all.”

  “Then why did you bring me here?”

  “We don’t know how to determine the direction of the talent, but can see its depth...” Paris’ smile was a little dodgy. “Watch carefully, Northerner, and observe how it shines.”

  Hadjar really did witness a show that he’d never seen before.

  The monolithic stone suddenly became like a glass vessel with transparent walls that had a whirlwind of unknown power inside it. This whirlwind swirled and raged, trying to break out, but failed. The vessel began to shine as it emitted energy. Hadjar had to squint at the glare. Then darkness came again.

  “Well, not bad,” Paris issued his verdict. “In the Empire, this level is classified as yellow.”

  “Yellow?”

  “Yes. There are several levels of talent: white is the simplest, lowest one. The vast majority of people have it. Then gray, which is a little better. Those who have it are faster on the path of cultivation. Then yellow. That’s yours. Then orange, blue, and rainbow. They say that the people who have a rainbow talent are geniuses who are blessed by the Heavens themselves. According to the legends, someone with a rainbow talent founded the Empire of Darnassus, and by the age of nine, he reached the level of Spirit Knight, and by the end of his first century of life, he became an Immortal.”

  He became a Spirit Knight at nine...

  “But don’t despair. With a yellow talent, you will be welcomed with open arms in most of the schools and sects of the Empire.”

  Hadjar didn’t understand why he was so surprised by the words at first.

  “Why did you say ‘you will be’?”

  “I’ve lived long enough in this world, Northerner. I understand where you are going and why. I wish you success on your journey. It came to pass that our roads crossed and we’ll be working together for some time, but then we’ll part. I like to leave friends, not enemies, in my wake.”

  Paris smiled broadly, put the bowl back, and handed Hadjar three square emerald coins with holes in the middle.

  “Three emerald imperial coins. They’ll be enough for you to buy something. I would advise you to attend the weekly merchants’ auction which will begin in a few hours. Your friend will be free by then and you’ll be able to go together. Believe me, the sight will greatly... change you.”

  Three emerald imperial coins... In Lidus, you can build a castle with this kind of money! And Paris had given them to him as casually as if they were nothing.

  “Oh, don’t think that’s charity on my part. The Research Chamber takes care of its employees. It’s an investment in our future collaboration. Everyone who chooses a blue amulet receives this amount regularly. Now leave. Any citizen will be able to tell you how to get to the House of the Hundred Coins.”

  Chapter 344

  After leaving the building, Hadjar sat on the pavement. He toyed with the coins in his hands and thought about what had happened to him over the past two months. Of course, he’d spent most of that time in the liquid prison, but, even after that, he was still in a cell, albeit a more convenient and far larger one.

  The blue bracelet on his arm only confirmed his thoughts. These coins were just handouts. Surely, if Hadjar had died today, Glen would’ve gotten them. The maintenance of the prisoners... Einen had been right when he’d said that they were in a prison. Which was worse — being a slave or a prisoner — he didn’t know.

  About half an hour later, the islander left the building as well. He hobbled slightly and his right leg was bandaged.

  “What injured you like that?” Hadjar asked, noticing the three coins tucked into his friend’s belt. There were no pockets on Einen’s clothes.

  “A giant dung beetle,” Einen said. “Don’t look at me like that, barbarian. That monstrosity was the size of my father’s best frigate!”

  “I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “You haven’t seen the sea, either.”

  “I’m talking about the bug.” Hadjar could hardly keep from laughing.

  Einen looked at his friend and saw the mark left behind by Paris’ needle.

  “What color?” The islander asked simply.

  “Yellow,” Hadjar answered.

  Einen nodded, “Me too,” he said, “but I don’t believe in the trustworthiness of all these stones from unknown countries. I’ve heard from travelers that they are easy to fool, and that it often happens in the Empire.”

  “Nothing is perfect,” Hadjar shrugged. “Anyway, you seem to be feeling unusually talkative.”

  For some reason, a spark of resentment appeared in Einen’s eyes, but it quickly went out and was replaced by understanding.

  “Barbarian,” he explained patiently, “in my homeland, it isn’t customary to talk idly with strangers. Demons can hide under very convincing masks, and they will pull out one’s soul through lips that are too loose.”

  Hadjar understood the hint and didn’t press further.

  Together, they first went over to the barracks. The light was still spilling out through the open door and the sounds of merrymaking could be heard coming from within. Apparently, when its residents didn’t need to do any tasks for the Chamber, they drank and had fun, relieving stress.

  Hadjar suspected that he and Einen had fought against the weakest monsters they had and that the ones that came next would be much more dangerous. When a person straddled the line between life and death every day... Well, Hadjar wasn’t going to drink alcohol, but he would probably become addicted to deep meditation.

  They went to the pier. When the ferryman informed them that getting ferried across the river would cost them a coin, the friends glanced at each other, silently pulled off their caftans, and dived into the water. The ferryman looked at them with a mixture of disgust and surprise, but they didn’t care.

  After crossing the river, pleasantly refreshed by the icy water, they climbed directly onto the embankment of a busy avenue. Wet, bald, barefoot, and with their caftans folded over their arms, they stood o
ut in even the most motely of crowds. Therefore, it wasn’t surprising that children pointed at them and adults cast displeased and condemning glances at them. It was difficult for them to find someone who would talk to them and give them directions to the House of the Hundred Coins.

  “Turn when you get to Fountain Street,” a drunkard muttered. Hadjar had also never seen drunkards among practitioners in his entire life. This damned city was so unusual in its... usualness that it drove him crazy. “You’ll see a street there, at the end of which is a large building. That’s the House of the Hundred Coins.”

  Having thanked the man, Einen and Hadjar set off along the indicated route. Hundreds, thousands, tens of thousands of people were scurrying around, going about their business. Merchants were shouting about their goods, the stores were overcrowded, and there were a lot of items that Hadjar had never seen before on their shelves. Carts, harnessed by a wide variety of animals, rushed along the avenue. The drivers sometimes yelled angrily at the gaping pedestrians, and they hurried to get out of the way. Apparently, even the simplest of carts wasn’t accessible to everyone in Underworld City.

  The street was full of fountains that could’ve stirred up a storm of emotions in any desert dweller, but Hadjar and Einen passed by them without a second glance. They soon found the House of the Hundred Coins. At the entrance stood a servant/barker. The young boy was working off his term of service.

  “The weekly auction is about to begin!” He shouted, looking each of the passers-by right in the eye. “If you’re looking for the juice of a millennial ginger, the Seven Stars herb, the bones of a horned python, or any other rare artifact, come on in! If you want to sell or get something appraised, please, come in! The weekly auction is about to begin...”

  Hadjar and Einen climbed the stairs, and the boy interrupted his spiel for a moment.

  “May the Evening Stars shine down upon you.”

  The boy had started to bow, but then he saw the friends’ blue bracelets. His tone and mannerisms immediately changed.

  “The entrance for non-citizens is on the other side of the building,” he said, or more accurately, spat out, and then immediately went back to what he’d been doing.

  Hadjar and Einen exchanged meaningful glances. That certainly didn’t sound like ‘go wherever you wish’ and ‘we don’t practice slavery here’. They didn’t bother making a fuss — when in Rome, do as the Romans do — and they didn’t give a damn about how the Underworld City dwellers treated them. They were here temporarily and would devote that time to their cultivation, not making friends.

  Skirting the building and turning into smelly, damp yards, they found an inconspicuous, rickety door. Going through it, they walked along a narrow corridor until they found themselves at the farthest end of a semioval hall.

  A most diverse crowd of people had already gathered here, and all of them wore the amulets. Hadjar even saw a couple of the inhabitants of the ‘blue’ barracks, but they pretended not to notice him.

  Downstairs, on the ground floor, was where the citizens had gathered. They differed greatly in social status and power. Among them, Hadjar even sensed the presence of several Heaven Soldiers. However, their auras were somewhat different from the norm. As if they were cultivators, but not the kind that Hadjar was used to. Damned true path of cultivation...

  Soon, an auctioneer climbed up onto the stage. He was a pompous man in an embroidered gold and silver caftan. His brocade shoes shuffled slightly on the wooden boards of the pedestal.

  “Let’s start our weekly auction. Today, we are going to present a few lots that will surely arouse your interest, and there will be a little surprise at the end.”

  The crowd greeted his words with halfhearted applause.

  “We’ll start with...” Several servants carried out a long halberd with a blade so wide that it looked more like an oar. “The Halberd of Merry Iron. An Earth level artifact. The opening bid is half an emerald imperial coin.”

  The Halberd of Merry Iron... The artifactor that had forged this weapon didn’t have any imagination. The bargaining wasn’t very lively, and the artifact was soon sold for two coins. It was an average amount to the locals, but to the people of Lidus, it would’ve been a real fortune.

  “Pill of the Blooming River.” Again, the servants carried the lot up to the stage. It was a ball the size of a nut, resting on a velvet pad. “This is a great ingredient for your cultivation. A person that takes this pill will feel like they’ve spent a hundred days in continuous meditation. The opening bid is ten coins!”

  This time, the bargaining was very competitive, but only six people were involved. In the end, the alchemical pill was sold for eighteen coins. Eighteen! Hadjar was sure that even the Palace in the capital of Lidus cost, at most, three times that amount. So, it was worth three of those pills.

  Then they brought out a scroll with some meditation Technique that allowed someone to reach the peak of the Spirit Knight level. The opening bid was twenty coins. It was bought immediately by one of the people who’d bid on the pill before.

  With each new item, Hadjar understood that he still knew very little about the outside world. His journey through the desert had only moved the blinders before his eyes a bit, but hadn’t even come close to taking them off.

  “A Petal of the Blue Cherry Tree. The tree is twenty thousand years old. It’s an ideal ingredient for use in alchemy. Opening bid is fifteen coins!”

  Fifteen coins for one petal! In the end, somebody paid even more for it than for the pill — almost twenty-six coins.

  “Now, may I have your attention, dear patrons! Our auction can boast quite a rare find! A tablet obtained in a remote oasis by the valiant hunters of the Research Chamber. It contains instructions on how to learn the ‘Three Sword Slashes of the Thunder God’ Technique. It’s ideal for those who have devoted themselves to the Spirits of the Sword or the Saber. The opening bid is four imperial coins.”

  Hadjar almost growled in frustration.

  “Take it,” Einen held out his three coins, “we got into this mess together, and we’ll get out of it together. To do so, we both need to become stronger. Don’t even think about refusing. I know you would’ve done the same if they’d had something useful for me.”

  Hadjar nodded and was about to call out his bid when a familiar voice spoke up from below. “Seven coins!”

  The red-haired witch turned her gaze upward, toward the area reserved for the non-citizens.

  Chapter 345

  “I don’t like the look of this,” Einen whispered, his eyes fixed on Tilis.

  Hadjar smiled sadly. What would Serra have said if she saw her sister blaming one of her few friends for her death? Although... the red-haired girl wasn’t completely wrong when she accused him of having a part in it.

  Damn it, he was letting stress get the better of him. The only man that could be blamed for Serra’s death was someone she’d already taken with her to the forefathers. And Hadjar hadn’t found those who were to blame for everything that had happened in Lidus yet.

  “Let’s leave,” Hadjar answered loudly.

  Giving the three coins back to the islander, he was the first to leave the overcrowded non-citizen area.

  After walking along the cramped, dirty corridor, they went back out into the street. Einen started toward the avenue, but Hadjar circled the building and approached the servant again.

  “...sell or get something appraised?” The servant was still shouting. Noticing Hadjar, he grimaced discontentedly. “What’s the matter? Don’t you have enough money? I don’t have time for you and-”

  “I need to see an appraiser,” Hadjar interrupted him. He wasn’t hurt by the boy’s attitude toward him. He couldn’t pay attention to every stray dog that barked at him.

  “I can appraise you myself.”

  Instead of replying verbally, Hadjar simply put his hand on the hilt of his sword. That was enough for the stones around the boy’s feet to crack.

  “Wielder...” the serva
nt swallowed. “Please, forgive my ignorance,” he bowed. “Despite wanting to do so, I can’t let you through this passage. It’s only for citizens.”

  “Bring an appraiser out here, then.”

  “I can’t! I have to work.”

  “We’ll cover for you,” Einen waved him off. “Hurry up, boy, we have a lot to do today.”

  After hesitating for a while, the servant nodded and disappeared behind the heavy doors. While he was absent, Hadjar and Einen honestly carried out their part of the agreement. They invited people to visit the House of the Hundred Coins diligently. Some people even came closer to make sure that they weren’t seeing things and that the owners of blue amulets were, indeed, doing this kind of work.

  “Why am I not surprised?” came from behind them.

  Tilis came out, shaking her luxurious hair and hips. She held the ‘Three Sword Slashes of the Thunder God’ Technique tablet.

  “Are you pleased with your purchase, honorable lady?” Hadjar bowed. “You may need some help understanding it. I‘ll be glad to help you out.”

  “The Evening Stars will fade before I ask you for anything, barbarian.” Tilis said this with a smile, but it was clear that only the amulet around his wrist was keeping her from immediately attempting to send Hadjar to the forefathers.

  “Did you buy the tablet for your collection?” Einen asked.

  The witch turned to the islander and looked at him like he was the filthiest and most vile creature she’d ever encountered.

  “The fact that I can’t harm you physically doesn’t mean that I can’t cause you many other kinds of problems.”

  Hadjar sighed wearily and rubbed his nose.

  “Is it still useless to try to convince you that I am not the one behind your sister’s death?”

  Tilis jerked back as if she’d been slapped in the face.

  “I don’t care what you try to convince me of, barbarian,” she hissed, erasing the polite mask from her face in an instant. “I only know that she left here alive, and only her bracelet returned. In your hands, a stranger’s hands.”