by Vitaly Zykov
The first time, when their train began to move, a romp in the locker even made Yarik nervous. From behind the half-open door of the locker popped the animal's muzzle and squeaked quietly. At this time heart of the kord sank to his stomach – the master could get angry.
But Darg only muttered something in disapproval under his breath and turned to the wall, and Rual like an arrow flew up to Yarik's shoulder. He spent most the journey time there.
During the whole way they had only one significant event – the customs inspection at the border. The carriage stopped in front of a log blocking the road, and a surly guard in thoroughly polished cuirass, with drowsy, hung-over eyes checked their tickets and luggage. The last fact surprised Yarik very much, he just could not imagine what could be prohibited for transportation here. He was standing calmly near the carriage, waiting for his master's instructions and holding Rual, who was trembling with curiosity, in his hands. While Darg irritably spitting through his teeth had to shake out the contents of the bag himself before the guard, which was an insult for a free man, having a slave. The other passengers, who did not look like nomads, were treated with more respect. But Darg said nothing. The guard looked with indifferent eye at the beast, but became interested in Yarik. Coming closer and carefully examining the slave's collar, he chuckled and asked fifteen kelats from Darg for crossing the border. The sum was the same for everybody, and Darg paid it without objection. But then he gave Yarik a slap and ordered to re-pack their things…
So the journey was flowing quietly and smoothly. It was interesting to watch the world through the window of the carriage. Villages were richer here, roads were better, and they frequently met patrols of the royal troops. This country simply emanated some stability, although there was no visible wealth. Their carriage did not enter the cities, saving time, so the boundary with East Cayen was reached on the morning of fifth day.
The carriage was moving along a winding coastline all the night, the sea breeze was blowing into the window, bringing the smell of salt and seaweed. A good stone road now became just perfect. As Yarik learned later, merchants of Cayen invested considerable money in the development of local roads. A chain of stone guard towers at the border was also demonstrating the wealth of Cayen. The local authorities obviously valued the safety and knew how to provide it. No one could not cross the border unnoticed. The discipline at the customs was favorably different as well. A group of guards with crossbows and sober tenacious eyes and an officer armed with a sword met the guests of East Cayen, checking their documents and interrogating about the purpose of the visit. The guards spoke politely and correctly with every person (a free person), without raising their voice, though they checked everything more thoroughly, even entered the compartments. The entry fee here was greater, it was equal to the cost of the tickets. Darg who had paid a whole farlong swore aloud, but already when the train began to move again. The contents of his purse melted with catastrophic speed.
Yarik sighed and pressed his face to the window. There was a lot to look at – they were approaching New Givart. Even from a distance he saw eight unusual needle-like towers that seemed reaching up to the heavens. Some hefty bellied barrels scurried busily between them. Yarik suspected that this was the famous flying bubbles. It was oddly enough, but this city also had no surrounding city wall. This unusual tradition still surprised Yarik.
There was no fee to enter the city, there even was no regular guard post. The suburb met the travelers with the roar of a big city. The reptiles were hissing, the water-hawkers were shouting, the merchants were yelling loudly, the city life was in full swing as they say. Though it was only suburbs!
The carriage station appeared from behind the corner, and the carriage rolled slowly into the yard. The local station looked rich, not only because of size – it could take up to ten carriages at the same time, but also because of its decoration. The two-story stone building with tile roof and a lot of statues and even two fountains, the passengers were bound to feel well-off…
– My dear, where can I find a not too expensive hotel? – Darg asked this question to a moustached servant who was standing like a statue at the exit from the station.
Yarik stood behind with a bored look and thought sadly that the comfortable journey could be forgotten now. Rual was sitting in the bag again and sniffing resentfully.
– Near the eastern tower, the one that close to the port! You will find the hotel «The Blessed» opposite the inn «The Lady's Heart». – The moustached man replied readily, it was clear that he was hoping for a reward, and he was not disappointed. A copper coin migrated from Darg's pocket into the pocket of the servant, and the strangers followed further.
It was easy, even pleasant to go along clean stone sidewalks. Yarik curiously turned his head from time to time, looking at the shops' windows. The feeling that Givart was considered the richest city of Sarduor not in vain, grew stronger.
The scale of the city was amazing – it took about three hours to find the said hotel. Darg was already taught by bitter experience and did not try to determine names of the streets himself, and every now and then asked the passers-by. A couple of times they came up to the street vendors and bought hot bagels. The local prices were surprising. In Saurma capital two bagels were sold for the price of one here. To say that that angered Darg, is to say nothing. He was just shaking with rage. The cost of seven kelats per day at the hotel did not add peace to his mind.
– With such costliness, we can live here no more than three weeks! – snarled Darg. – Though it is almost the cheapest hotel in the city.
They checked it when they had came in «The King's Shelter». The two housemen whose brutal faces looked simply ridiculous on the background of their liveries, examined Darg from head to foot, looked at each other, but still admitted Darg in. Yarik stayed outside. His master flew out to the street with round surprised eyes a couple of minutes later accompanied by snide giggles of the housemen.
– One farlong, – said Darg hoarsely on Yarik's questioning look. – Let's go to the port.
The size of the port corresponded to the size of the city. It was amazing. Dozens of piers, to which some ships approached every now and then, cursing porters scurrying to and fro, and inextirpable fish smell – all that talked about the main source of wealth of Givart. The passenger ships stood at the separate pier. It was placed in the rich part of the port. It was more clean and quiet and the fish smell was not so strong here, although the port is a port. In some quite deserted place, where warehouses were adjoined to the port, two decent gentlemen approached to the strangers and politely asked to give them all the valuables. To confirm the significance of their intentions, they demonstrated their huge knives. But unfortunately their speech full of intricate figures was interrupted by Darg, who struck the forehead of one bandit with the hilt of his sword, and hit the second between his legs. The conflict had died down before it even began.
After a couple of dozen yards, they went to the rich part of the port. The ships that were standing here differed their high sides and wealth of sailing equipment. The ships they had seen before were like fragile boats in comparison with them.
The perspective to come to each ship and talk with captains seemed not very pleasant for Darg, so he caught a boy in a white sailor robe and asked about passenger voyages. Like a true sea wolf the boy cast a contemptuous glance as Yarik's master and speaking through his teeth, sent them to a tavern «The maned howler». As the boy said all private contracts were made there, and sped away on his business.
Darg kicked a lonely lying stone, spat evilly and walked in the pointed direction. Yarik understood him well – to be a leader, a man respected by all, and then at once find himself in an alien environment, become a nobody… The young servant understood his master like no other. But that was Darg's own choice. You should never blame circumstances, you have at least two ways out in each situation. And the fact that one of them is death changes nothing…
Oleg was lying on the bed in his
little room, having no strength even to stand up and drink water. Yesterday's practical exam nearly finished him off. Magician-inspectors organized a real hell for the junior student as if avenging him for all the sins of the world. Although, it all started quite well. Oleg was required to complete papers confirming that he chooses practical magic as his specialization, and to write a petition for early examination. Only the third paper caused some concern, this paper declared withdrawal of the Academy from the responsibility for life and health of the student, who «…in sound mind, being not under enforcement or a spell, asked for permission to pass the early exam on practical magic». Oleg had read it several times, but decided that it was a mere formality, and now that he could not retreat he signed the document.
After that he was sent to the polygon, or as it was called here – the field for magical practices. Three full magicians came to examine him, stepping lightly over the field sand they passed to the eastern edge – in front of the spectator stands. Irung called the upcoming exam ridiculous, and Oleg who believed him, stood calmly in the center and froze in waiting.
– According to the ancient law, a junior student who has decided to take the exam in advance, is required to justify this high honor bestowed upon him. To do that, he must show everything, to reveal before inspectors all the sides of his talent. – The voice of the magician, probably enhanced by magic, echoed across the whole field. Quite numerous spectators on the stands began to whisper. – The only force that causes a man to strive up, is the threat to his life…
At these words Oleg's eyes widened, and he looked at the full stands with another eyes already. Apparently, this legalized way of killing was a rare sight here, and many people come to watch it.
– …The student must pass three checks. The work with objects, the work with energies and the test of endurance. Is the student ready? – The magician's voice was unperturbed.
There was a little pause, and Oleg realized that the question was addressed to him. Licking his lips, he croaked hoarsely:
– I am ready.
– Then let's start!
The blow followed instantly. If the first step had been the check of work with energies, Oleg would not have come out this field alive. He had no time to prepare and still remained perplexed, mentally choosing the most complicated curses for Irung. One of the magicians scooped the sand as if with a giant ladle and poured it on the head of the daring student striving to bury him under the heap. Oleg hid behind his hands and without hesitation appealed to his Force. The Force flooded like a full-flowing river and obeying unconscious desire, fluttered like an invisible canopy over his head. The sand froze, as though caught by a giant hand. Acting unconsciously, Oleg moved his hand in a motion collecting all the sand in his palm and threw this weight at the magicians. The air howled and a huge pile of sand rushed towards the examiners. Unfortunately, an easy movement of the magician in the center was enough to make the air before them tremble and the mass of sand crumbled powerless, having met an invisible wall.
But this even insignificant success forced Oleg to summon his courage. Therefore, an invisible hammer that was used by the mage from the left side, met a very strong wall. A strong recoil shook Oleg's whole body. He even moaned softly through his teeth, but for his opponent it was a surprise too – a gentle breeze brought a dirty curse to the student's ears.
Realizing that the exam turned into a battle, would soon present another unexpected blow, Oleg decided on a risky experiment. One scheme from a recently read book stood before his eyes, his lips mechanically uttered the proper words, while his hands were repeating the gestures… and gushing flow of his Force gained the course, building a complex system. The magical aura began to flare up around the daring student, forming a protective dome, its glow was filling with Force with every heartbeat…
At the same time the magician from the right side hit with a strangely transformed hammer. Like a giant snake, it rushed to the goal, rounding obstacles and getting ready for ramming. A tail of sand lifted up in the air marked its trail. But Oleg withstood behind the defense he built in advance.
The dome shuddered under attack of the hostile magic again, then again and again. Suddenly, the flow of the hostile magic shattered into hundreds of streams which like greedy tentacles clung to the defense of the student, looking for at least any flaw… All his limbs were filled with unbearable weight, a trickle of blood ran from his nose, his energy was melting away like water in a sieve. Oleg realized that he had lost. When he had retreat into defense, he had lost a chance to counterattack. At this point the world went dark, and Oleg collapsed on the hot sand…
– Junior student, you can get up! Our congratulations on your successful completion of the exam on practical magic of the second course – the familiar voice came from unimaginable far distance.
Oleg lifted his head with difficulty and saw the clouds of sand disappearing, undoubtedly obeying the influence of someone's magic, and the air became clear again. The examiners were slowly walking to the exit from the field…
Now, lying in his bed and remembering everything that had happened, Oleg could only swear.
– Well, why are you swearing? You should be glad, not angry! – Irung somehow opened the door and entered the room.
– Is it you who telling me this?!! I almost got killed there! – Oleg who was dying from exhaustion a minute ago found the strength to scream.
– But you were not killed. «Almost» does not count. All our lives – is a sequence of these «almosts». Why are you so angry? – The voice of the young mage was really surprised. – You had a great first magical battle.
– A great?! But the only thing I was doing was defending myself. They had not even noticed my attacks. – Oleg's voice was filled with hurt pride.
Irung laughed:
– Oho! Student, you just felt a bit of your Gift, and you want already to overcome the full magicians with bare Force. You do not understand, do you? – Seeing a sincere misunderstanding in the eyes of his pupil, the magician continued: – What is real magic? It happens when some sorcerer learns to work with objects, to break stones, and already considers himself a magician. But no! First of all, magic is an art! A true magician would not spent even a hundredth part of Force you spent, a talented magician could also counterattack. Magic is a weaving of forces, an ability to create something new. How do hammermen split rocks? The one is hammering with a sledgehammer and gets no result, but the other comes, chooses the place, drives a wedge and the stone explodes itself. The same thing with you. You're the first hammerman. Got it?
Oleg nodded in puzzlement.
– Well, have a rest. I brought some books to you, no practice until your energy is restored. So, get down with the theory!
When the door closed behind Irung, Oleg lifted the two folios left by his young tutor and smiled stupidly. He had unwittingly imagined his rest a little differently.
Avras was sitting in meditation pose on a deserted rocky shore, not far from the border with East Cayen. His lungs were heaving rhythmically, inhaling the aroma of two barely smoldering candles. The world around him swung in a familiar manner, and his lips uttered two words consisting of only growling sounds. Human larynx was not intended for this language, but the sitting man was not a common man, he was a magician.
His whole body began to shake as if it did not want to part with the Spirit, but a moment later magician's consciousness rushed to the gates of Astral. It was the day for contact with Marcus – the right hand of the king of Tlantos supervised the progress of the operation personally.
The surrounding space was fluttering like a bluish haze, the wind of alien world twisted the shreds of darkness into the ravenous craters. There was a feeling of someone's presence, of the look into your back. A mage much more powerful than Avras came to the meeting. The surrounding haze started to swirl faster, then the features of a room began to appear. A moment later the agent of Tlantos was standing in a bright cave with a high arch, where on a boulder in front of
him was sitting Markus, the chief of intelligence service, Lord Marcus.
– Report – the Lord nodded calmly. The gesture was a bit too grand, even arrogant. His rustic face changed for a moment as if the magician tried on the mask of power.
– Our assumptions were correct – Avras said carefully trying to find the right tone. – The man, the offworlder exists. I saw him.
– And?.. – Marcus's eyebrow arched questioningly.
– He is a kord, a kord in Dark collar. And his master is going the way of Nikerra! – Avras yelled as if jumping into the cold water.
– So you missed him – Lord Marcus summed thoughtfully. His eyes were wandering somewhere on the ceiling, showing that the mind of the magician was far away and busy with pondering a new combination.
– I'm sorry, my Lord! It was beyond my abilities. – Avras uttered these words with a hard effort. Even here, in the magical world, the sweat appeared on his forehead.
His mighty interlocutor looked at Avras's face.
– You will have a chance to atone for this miss. Tlantos needs you in the south of Gartash. – The smile of Lord Marcus was like a smile of a snake. – There is going to be a job for you.
Drunken shouts informed the travelers that they were approaching the port tavern. Judging by the rage that filled the human voices, a fight was unfolding ahead of Darg and his slave. Carefully, trying to attract no attention, Yarik looked from behind the corner of the house. It was getting dark, and the long shadows were ready to dissolve into the incoming wave of twilight. Yarik who slightly strained his eyesight with a bit of irritation began to watch the play in front of him.
The situation was as old as mankind itself. Six ragamuffins, armed with hefty knives and cheering themselves with shouts, attacked two very drunken sailors. The latter were standing on the pavement like on a deck during a terrible gale – swearing and swinging to keep balance. It was clear that the seamen were skillful people, at least by the fact that even in such state, they managed to successfully defend. One body was already lying on the pavement like a dead pile in the pool of dark blood. Nevertheless there was no hope for the sailors – they could withstand no longer than a minute…