The Intern (The Forbidden World Book 1)

by Garry Ocean

  “My greetings to you, Whisperer!” a short man with rolled-up sleeves came out to meet them at the door. He was also wearing quite a worn-out leather apron.

  “And my greetings to you, Red!” Whisperer responded. “I see we have interrupted your work?”

  “Don’t say nonsense,” the host said, giving a hug to Whisperer. “You know that my house is always open for you and your friends.”

  And then he turned to his son and said, “Sleepy, run to your mother and ask her to put some food on the table. Our guests must be hungry from their long journey.”

  ********

  Whisperer was walking slowly. Before leaving, he changed his clothes and now looked like a wealthy city resident strolling along the streets of the Great City. Whisperer would never admit that to anyone, but he liked the city. Now he was expected for an important meeting. He made this journey for the meeting. His party was just a cover-up. Everyone, except for Nick. Suddenly, Whisperer became weak in his knees.

  “Well, well,” he said to himself, “Pull yourself together, you are on the right track.”

  However, the high-pitch voice of his subconscious reminded him snidely, “Twenty years ago you were walking the same streets just like now, thinking, ‘Here, it is finally happening!’ And then? You made a mistake!”

  “Not this time!” Whisperer did not notice that he said that out loud. A passer-by dashed away from him, scared.

  “I need to calm down, this will not do. Too much is at stake,” the Wisperer suddenly smiled at an old memory. He could say it all started with a card game back then.

  It was already dark when Whisperer got to the right house. He had done that on purpose. He had no intention to advertise his visit. He went around the house in no rush, strolling. The house was large. It was surrounded by a high stonewall with frequent sharp pikes on top. Along the perimeter, it had a dense fence of shrub. Armed watchmen guarded the main gate. Inside the walls, the dogs were barking. Whisperer came up to an inconspicuous entryway and, making sure no one was following him, dived in. The gate was unlocked. He was expected. Indeed, a servant was waiting under a shed, holding a lamp. He nodded at Whisperer without a word, letting him know that he had recognized him, turned around and went along a path to the house. Whisperer followed him silently.

  In a large hall, the fireplace was creaking with high flames. Smokeless torches on the walls gave the room even twilight. A hefty short man got up from a massive table in the corner and said in a slightly nasal voice, “Greetings, Rich! Here we meet again. Don’t tell me I have become fatter and lost almost all my hair. I know that myself.”

  “Hi, Frice! You can’t turn back time. I am happy to see you, too.”

  “All right, sit down, make yourself comfortable. I can see you are from the road, I will order some dinner right away.”

  “Don’t bother, please, I’m not hungry,” Rich stopped him.

  “How about a bottle of Bay Wine, just like in good old times?”

  “I cannot resist the Bay,” Rich smiled.

  “While Chat is getting it from the basement, tell me, my friend, how was your journey?” Frice said ringing the bell on his table.

  A servant immediately appeared at the door.

  “Chat, please bring us a bottle of Bay Wine, harvest of year 170 according to the old calendar. And arrange for some fruit for us, too.”

  The servant disappeared as silently as he’d appeared.

  “What to tell?” making himself comfortable on the soft sofa, Whisperer started. “The guards on the border have become so emboldened, they don’t consider the near-Forest residents people. Even the travel document from Archy is not good enough for them.”

  “Yes, this may become a problem,” Frice nodded in agreement. “It’s not too difficult for me to get you a paper signed by Watchman himself. But then Judge’s people will find out about it immediately. And every step of yours will be followed by his bloodhounds.”

  “Exactly,” Rich agreed. “I’ll make do for now. A lot of guards owe something to Whisperer.”

  “I’ve heard about that,” Frice smiled. “Is it true that you give some potion for impotence to the pier commander?”

  “It’s a doctor-patient privilege!” Rich answered in the same mocking tone.

  “That’s why Archy is going to marry a younger woman!” Frice laughed.

  A servant appeared quietly from behind with a large tray in his hands. He set it on the table, wiped the wine bottle, slightly touched by basement dust, with a snow-white napkin and skillfully opened it.

  “All right, Chat, you can go now!” the host waved at him. “We can take it from here.”

  And then he turned to Rich and asked, “So, just like when we were young, to the edge?”

  “You still remember how we met each other for the first time?” Rich smiled.

  “To be more exact, became friends,” filling the glasses, responded Frice. “We had known each other, if I remember correctly, from the first year of the Master’s?”

  “It was a good time,” Rich smiled, sipping from the glass. “Not bad at all!”

  “Not bad?!?” Frice exclaimed with feigned indignation. “This bottle is from the basement of Archy the Wise himself!”

  “Superb wine!” Rich reassured the host and, taking a big sip, asked, “Well, Frice, did you notice that everything valuable and useful was already made during the times of Archy the Wise? And it’s over three hundred years now.”

  “It’s not often that good rulers are born,” Frice confirmed with a sigh. “And then the times were difficult, unlike now. A whole number of strongest Exoduses, regular raids by the steppe dwellers, and internal fights on top of all.” Then he waved his arm, as if giving up, “But whom am I telling this to? You know history not worse than me.”

  “I am afraid, the times are turning, and not for the best,” Rich pushed the glass away.

  “Are you talking about the Exodus?” Frice finished the wine in one gulp and pushed his glass away too.

  “Not only. What did the mycelium research tell us?” he looked attentively at Frice. “I can tell even without your response that we should expect a strong Exodus. But how strong?”

  “The opinions, as always, differ. I personally believe that we need to prepare for the worst. But the real question is, what can we do?”

  “I wrote you my ideas back last year,” Rich’s stare wouldn’t let go of Frice. “Did you communicate them to the others?”

  Frice got up and paced the room several times back and forth. Finally, he threw a dry log into the fireplace and returned to his chair.

  “What you had proposed would ruin century-long traditions,” Frice raised his fist as if wanting to bang it on the table but then looked at it and lowered it down slowly. “Not to mention that it is a direct violation of the foundational laws.”

  “These laws were written during the times of your beloved Archy the Wise. They have become obsolete a long time ago and do not reflect today’s reality.”

  “Your beloved,” Frice frowned. “I see you have stopped identifying yourself with the City altogether? Forty years of voluntary exile must have taken a toll on you!”

  Frice nearly yelled but contained himself, saying, “Forgive me. I shouldn’t have said this. My nerves are really failing me lately.”

  “The border of the Forest is moving closer every year,” Rich said, ignoring Frice’s outburst. “You cannot see this from the Main Tower, but I, as a resident of near-Forest,” he emphasized, “Can see this clearly. An ordinary city resident, who had never traveled beyond the Rapid Waters, may think that the Forest is too far to be afraid of it. Although, lately it seems that the Guardians themselves are not fully aware of the true state of things. Or are they?”

  “How dare you!” Frice leaned back in his chair. “We are treating every piece of related information very seriously.” He paused and then added, “And not only yours, let me assure you.”

  “I’d like to believe that,” Rich leaned forward
and, looking straight into Frice’s eye, took him off guard by an unexpected question, “Tell me, when were the defense towers built?”

  “After the rule of Archy the Wise,” Frice answered, thinking carefully. “A lot later.”

  “About a hundred and fifty years ago. Plus-minus twenty,” Rich clarified. “And why were they not there before? Ah? Did you ever think about it? I will tell you: because they were not needed. The Forest was so far that the hunters could simply take their things and move further away to safety. And after the Exodus they’d simply come back to their villages. Some even survived the invasion of the beasts in their own basements.”

  “So what? The towers are handling this quite well,” Frice countered. “As far as I know, the number of hunters who regularly die in the Forest is about the same as during the Exodus.”

  “Oh, common, you understand everything perfectly well,” Rich locked his eyes on Frice. “You can play your role of the silly Alchemist in front of the Supreme One and his minions, but I know you too well. Don’t interrupt me,” Rich raised his hand. “The change is coming, whether we want it or not.”

  “I see two possible scenarios. The first one is that the Forest will continue its gradual advancement. Then, perhaps, you will live out to a very old age. I know that you prefer this option. But what about the future of your children? I don’t think they will. Not to mention your grandchildren. This first scenario will give you a delay of twenty, perhaps thirty years. And even if that is the case, it’s high time to introduce some change now.”

  “The second scenario,” Rich sighed heavily. “I think that we were just lucky. In the last years, the Exoduses were weak. Only a small tide of theirs reached the towers. At first, I did not understand this myself. But now I am sure. The Forest was saving its strength all this time. Imagine what will happen if the Exodus strikes the towers will all its might?”

  Rich sighed again and continued, “Yes, you are right, I’ve grown too fond of these people. The near-Forest had become my home a long time ago. But it’s not even that. I started thinking about this a long time ago, when I was a master student. I had to work with a lot of archive documents at that time, but I did find the fact that confirmed my thinking. A very interesting picture resulted from this. On the one hand, the City was always trying to distance itself from the residents of near-Forest. Just like now, the transfer of any technical advancements, inventions, machinery and equipment, not to mention the modern weaponry, was prosecuted by Law. On the other hand, in hard times the City always came to rescue the near-Forest. During the times of the infamous Archy the Wise, after the especially devastating Exoduses, the city residents helped restore the destroyed settlements of the hunters and gatherers. They would provide them with clothes, various labor tools, etc. Or, just recently the City acted as a peace maker between the northerners and the southerners.”

  “I asked myself a natural question, why this is the case. There’s only one answer. The City wants to use the people of near-Forest as a living shield. Their mere existence contains a faster advancement of the Forest. What remains after each Exodus is either eaten up, or rooted out for further cultivation, or simply destroyed. On the other hand, the City was always afraid that the hunters would become envious of its wealthy life. Consequently, the bans known to everyone became Laws,” Rich stopped to take a breath. “Frice, please pour me some more wine. I haven’t talked so much in a long time.”

  “You are smart, Rich,” Frice said with sincere respect, pouring some more wine into Rich’s glass. “The Chief Archivist was right to single you out among all our classmates. But now listen to me…”

  He hesitated for a moment and then poured more wine into his own glass as well. “You are my old friend. Perhaps, the only one. This is why I will be completely honest with you. The Guardians understand all this perfectly well. But I cannot even fathom what must happen to change the Laws. Perhaps, only if the Forest breaks through the Rapid Waters.”

  “But then it will be too late!” Rich burst out in anger.

  “We don’t have to pretend with each other,” Frice drank his glass in one gulp. “People lost this battle a long time ago. After that very First Exodus. From that time on, it’s a pattern. The Forest advances, people retreat. You and I know that it is just a matter of time.”

  He poured himself some more wine and said, “When we were young, we thought we’d be able to change everything. How could we not, we were so smart! We’d find the Old City, open everyone’s eyes.”

  Frice sipped more wine and continued bitterly, “And now I understand that even if he had managed to carry out our plans, nothing would have changed. People don’t need the truth. And more importantly, no one needs change. We will continue celebrating the Exodus, hiding behind the tall city walls, just as we did hundreds of years ago. And what about the Old City, you’d ask? Just let it remain a beautiful legend that it is. All this knowledge was sealed away from the laymen for a reason. And now I am sure that it is right. Here you are trying to tell me about the impending threat coming from the Forest. Perhaps, you are right. Yes, yes, I am completely serious here. You must know better, you have been living there for so long. But do you know that there is another, still more serious threat?”

  Frice got up and started to pace the room, continuing, “The steppe dwellers have multiplied to the extent that they are starting to look our way. The Supreme One, on prompt from the Judge, is trying to cultivate in them the values of the Great City so that we can avoid an open conflict. All the roads are full of the carts loaded with free food for them. But I believe that these salvages are now settling in hordes the Middle Lands. As a result, the natives there have to uproot and move away from their tribal settlements. Armed conflicts burst out here and there. Judge keeps insisting that this all is temporary, that all the tribes and peoples will mix soon and we will achieve the Era of Equilibrium. But that is nonsense! Every child knows that the salvages had always had a taboo on marriages outside of the tribe. They sincerely believe that their foremother was the Holy Mare Lau-Tyn who bore and raised the first steppe dwellers. And now they have horse milk running in their veins. Therefore, mixing blood with other tribes is a deadly sin, abomination.”

  Frice stopped to catch his breath, and then went on, “So we may live to the time when something so horrible happens that we may have to appeal to the Departed Gods and beg them to come back.”

  “Yes, I have heard some rumors about this,” Rich said tranquilly after Frice finished his tirade.

  “Rumors!” Frice mocked Rich and sat back in his chair. “I know what you are thinking. Of course, we could use the ancient technologies of the Old City right now. But this is a dream now that cannot come true. And you know that better than me.”

  “There’s one more chance,” Rich said quietly. “I think I have found Him.”

  “Found whom?” Frice did not understand.

  “Him,” Rich repeated quietly again.

  Frice took a deep breath and then breathed out quietly. He started to pace around the room without saying a word. Rich knew Frice always did it when he was excited. So he observed him silently.

  “Are you sure?” he finally asked, looming over Rich.

  “Then, twenty years ago, I was sure,” Rich looked away. “Now I want you to look at him as well. There must be no second mistake.”

  “Where?” Frice was again pacing to and from the fireplace. “Where did you find him?”

  “On the swamp. The hunters found him,” Rich bit into an apple loudly. “Please stop pacing back and forth. I’ll break my neck following you!”

  “On the swamp?” Frice stopped. “Is that the time when the northerners had a fight with the southerners?”

  “The information reaches you quickly,” Rich mumbled chewing.

  “Judge was outraged,” Frice smiled, seemingly remembering something funny. “You do know that he favors the south, don’t you?”

  “No,” Rich was alarmed. “Never heard about it before.”


  “Well, it’s a long and old story,” Frice also took an apple and finally sat in the chair. “I’ll tell you another time. So, is it true that this founding of yours laid to rest five of them? Or they lie, as always?”

  “Ten,” Rich looked at Frice directly. “With his bare hands.”

  “Interesting,” Frice scratched his bold head. “But you haven’t decided it was Him just because of that, have you?”

  “Of course not, I felt him out at first,” Rich raised his eyebrows in indignation.

  “And?”

  “And nothing. No contact whatsoever. To either side.”

  “Perhaps, he had closed himself really well?” Frice uttered incredulously.

  “I already got burned twenty years ago, if you remember,” Rich took a sip. “Your Gift is stronger, this is why I want you to meet him personally. He emits something sometimes. Something that can be taken mistakenly for the Gift. This happens only occasionally, only when he is excited or aggravated. Or while he is asleep, when he has dreams.”

  “My hunters told me that he had taken the poison-spitter into his hands and the latter was totally fine with it,” Rich’s voice had clear notes of jealousy in it. “And this is after the poison-spitter attacked him.”

  “Interesting,” Frice listened to Rich attentively.

  “Of course, not all of this convinces me. The fact that he has enormous powers, speaks a non-existing language and does not understand the simplest things is, of course, weird. But I had thought of a trick,” Rich took a short meaningful pause. “I made sure he met Niya.”

  “The rejected one from the near-border?”

  “Yes, that one.”

  “Interesting,” Frice said again. “What did she tell him?”

  “This is the most interesting thing,” Rich leaned forward. “She told him nothing. She asked him something. To be more exact, asked him to do something.”

  Rich leaned back on the sofa. “I was following them while I could, but she led him so far that I could not go further. I only understood that she asked him to show her something that is not there. And he did.”