The Intern (The Forbidden World Book 1)

by Garry Ocean

  “All right, Hann, cut it out!” the second guard stood up for Whisperer. He must have been on a roll in the game. “I know this old man, he is like their wizard. Old man, give me your travel document.”

  The guard named Hann gave way for Whisperer, at the same time looking at him with a squeamish smirk and spitting above his shoulder.

  “All right, show me what you are carrying,” the guard looked at the document briefly and returned it to Whisperer. Then he looked at everyone in the travel party attentively, head to toe and asked, “Does everyone know the rules?”

  The hunters just stood there, stone-faced. Valu even turned away. Then one of the guards got into the cart and started to push out with his feet all their meager possessions. The other guard started to rummage through the bags, taking out things and throwing them right onto the dusty road.

  “We need to ask Archy to provide us with gloves,” Hann said through his teeth, taking out Nick’s pilot suit from his bundle with two fingers. “What is this trash?”

  That very moment, a long toot came from the pier.

  “And here’s Archy himself! Didn’t I tell you, the old man, not to utter his name for no reason?” the guards immediately left the hunters’ bags alone and rushed to the pier, fixing his uniform on the way.

  “Are they always like this?” Nick couldn’t resist asking.

  “Depends on the shift,” Whisperer answered reluctantly. “Hey, Sith, get everything back on the cart, fast! I will go greet my old acquaintance.” Whisperer rushed to follow the guards.

  It was getting dark. More than an hour since Whisperer left, and Nick started to worry when he finally noticed a familiar figure heading toward them. The old man stopped and started to wave at them with his arm, showing them to come over.

  “Looks like he stroke a deal,” Ron noticed the old man as well. “He always manages to. Valu and I will go ahead, to try and make arrangements for our cart, and you and Sith follow us.”

  After these words, the hunters rushed toward the pier. When the sloths finally reached the river in crawl, Valu ran up to them, shouting, “Rush along, it will depart soon! All right, Sith, unharness the sloths. I have agreed with a local guard, he will keep an eye on our cart and sloths while we are in the City.”

  “Are we going to leave them here?” Nick asked.

  “Of course we are,” Valu said. “Forest creatures cannot go into the Rapid Waters.”

  Nick realized it was pointless to ask further questions and went to the pier without a word. From afar, the ferry did not look as big as it did now. The ferry was divided into two parts. The smaller part was designated to take in people, while the bigger one – for cargo. Now it was practically empty. All the barrels must have been unloaded.

  Nick’s attention was drawn to a bulky mechanism. It looked like a huge wheel with crudely trimmed logs raying from it in various directions. These were improvised thills, and at least a dozen of sloths were harnessed to them. In the middle there was a huge spool with a thick cable coming out from it. Nick’s eyes followed its direction. It was clearly running toward the opposite riverbank.

  “Oh, I see now,” Nick guessed. “An interesting solution.”

  Three long toots pierced the air. Nick heard Valu shouting, “Hurry up! Come here! It’s departing!”

  They jumped on the ferry at the last moment. The drivers, hearing the signal for departure, started to beat the sloths on their scaled backs. The sloths began moving slowly and unwillingly. The cable started to roll onto the spool and the ferry, rocking slowly, moved away from the riverbank.

  Chapter 5

  The Supreme One was sitting at the head of a large oval table that was encrusted with an elaborate mosaic. People believed the table was there from the times of Archy the Wise, that is for more than three hundred years. The Supreme One was habitually looking at its patterns, sometimes tracing its rough surface with his fingers. For some reason, this made him calmer. He had long put up with the idea that he would never understand what the ancient craftsman wanted to depict here, but his eyes still tried to make out at least some recognizable shapes.

  “Perhaps, the master was crazy? Or, on the contrary, a genius? What did he want to show with this? That life cannot be entirely comprehended and should be accepted just as it is? Not in parts but as a whole?”

  “I am so sick and tired of all this! Especially these…” the Supreme One thought, trying to find a better word for his subordinates, but nothing except for insults came to his mind.

  “We have conducted a careful analysis of the given samples,” an unpleasant nasal voice took him out of his internal reflection zone. “We cannot say with complete certainty that the activity has increased.”

  “Alchemist,” a bold fat man sitting across the presenter interrupted him, “For as long as I know you, you’ve never said anything definite. NOT A SINGLE TIME,” he said that clearly pronouncing every word for an emphasis.

  “This is not like hanging thieves or decapitating the rejected ones,” the nasal voice cut him off and added, also with an emphasis, “THIS IS SCIENCE.”

  “Ha-ha-ha,” the fat one wouldn’t give up, “If it indeed had been as easy as you think and up to me, half of your apprentices, if the Departed permit me calling that those slackers and loafers, would have been already on the scaffold.”

  “Greater-Born Ones,” the Supreme One raised his voice in an attempt to stop their never-ending verbal battles, “Try to stick to the point, will you. I’d like to remind you that we are talking about dozens of thousands of human lives.”

  “Human,” the fat one mumbled.

  “Yes, human!” the Supreme One repeated with a stress and looked the fat one straight into the eye. The latter, as he always did, quickly turned his eyes away and started to drum his thick fingers on the table.

  “How are your preparations going?” the Supreme One asked a man who clearly had a military stature.

  “Everything is according to the approved plan,” the latter started to report. “The towers have been completely repaired, and now we are delivering the flammable tar. The garrisons will be completely staffed by the set deadline.”

  “And reinforced?”

  The military chief gave a quick glance at a thin little old man sitting at the very end of the table. Everyone else looked at him as well. He was sitting with an absent look. He seemed to had sat himself down just for a second to take a nap.

  “Treasurer!” the Supreme One raised his voice.

  “Ah? What? Are you talking to me?” the little old man caught himself.

  “Have you and the Watchman resolved the issue of additional supplies?”

  “Your honorable grace,” the treasurer started to talk fast, rubbing his little hands on each other, “You know that we are on the eve of the First Exodus celebration. And if you take into account that many city folks are still living by the old calendar, it makes it a big anniversary date. Exactly five hundred years ago. We cannot save on celebrating such an event. You do understand, don’t you?”

  “And still, try to find the means,” the Supreme One answered calmly.

  “These military men,” the little old man said looking condescendingly at the Watchman, “Have already forgotten how to hold their weapons in their arms, and they still want the double allowance for each day of guarding the towers. Moreover, they dare ask the money in advance!”

  The treasurer’s voice became high pitch, “I for one remember how when I was young we had to fight the steppe dwellers, and then no one ever spoke of the money! Mind you, the steppe dwellers are not some brainless forest beasts!”

  “How do you dare say this!” the Watchman exploded. “Every Exodus, I lose almost one-fourth of the garrison staff. Not to mention the wounded and disabled.”

  “Exactly what I’m saying, they have unlearned good fighting,” the old man answered, imperturbably. “While I remember…”

  “That’s enough!” the Supreme One was clearly fed up with the hassle. He could predict in
advance who will say what to whom next. These dialogues repeated themselves every time with a remarkable accuracy.

  “Why do we need all these meetings? Is it a tribute to some ancient tradition?” he thought, but made himself continue, “You all know very well that the Forest activity has increased. Many trusted sources report this. If we don’t want what happened a hundred years ago to happen again, and even worse what happened during the times of Archy the Wise, we need to get ready.”

  “I remember, ten years ago, we were also getting ready and over-prepared, but Exodus did not go further than the near-Forest. Just like in the previous times, to be exact,” the fat man stretched himself in his chair. “I for one believe and told you already many times that it seems that we have finally entered the Era of Equilibrium predicted by the infamous prophet Sing-Sin.”

  “If you are so into the ancient prophecies,” a thin man with a long aquiline nose broke his silence and joined the conversation, “You should know that before the Era of Equilibrium we must survive the Terrible Exodus. And if you want to go even deeper into ancient predictions, we need to remember the promised coming of the Messiah, or the Man From Faraway, or the Messenger of the Departed Gods. You can choose a reference to your liking.”

  “Listen, Forester!” the Bold One raised his voice, “If you are so smart, how come you have not yet resolved the problem of the beasts? You are getting the money from the treasury for this regularly. And where does it go? I think my agency should have looked into this a long time ago and figure out what is going on.”

  “You are calling those miserable crumbs money?” the thin one jumped off his seat. “Had we sent an expedition to the Old City, which I’ve been asking for many years now, we would have found answers to many questions. But no, most of the money goes to provide for your agents-provocateurs and moles of all types. They are ready to classify us all as the rejected from the very birth, so that they could receive their benefits and bonuses.”

  “That’s enough!” the Supreme One felt that his head would explode. A sure sign of a long, many-days migraine coming. “Let’s finish for today. We will meet again, the same staff, in a decade. Everyone’s free to go. The Forester and the Alchemist, stay.”

  When the other three left with an air of importance, the Supreme One rubbed his temples with his fingers.

  “When is your man going to show up?” he asked the Alchemist, grimacing with pain. “It’s been two months since I finished my herbal mix. The migraine is killing me, I can’t sleep at night.”

  “He should be on a ferry right now,” said the latter in a nasal voice. “Meaning, he will be in the City tomorrow afternoon.”

  “All right, I think I can make it till tomorrow,” the Supreme One’s face produced something of a smile. “But what about the Exodus? What do the learned men say?”

  “It is difficult to answer this question with accuracy,” the Alchemist started, but caught the impatient look of the Supreme One and continued quickly, “My archivists from the magistrate have dug up in the library an interesting manuscript from the second century, seems like exactly from the time of Archy the Wise. So, the manuscript has a very interesting table containing data on activity of the sub-ground spores. To be honest, I had seen this manuscript before, but we were able to verify its authenticity only recently. You know, too many fakes have surfaced during the past century.”

  “Please,” the Supreme One frowned, “spare me from unnecessary details.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought this was important. So, to be brief, we have compared the 300-year-old table data with the data from the recent sample. I, of course, don’t know what method of estimation used my unknown predecessor, but I need to point out that even at that time people managed to achieve quite reliable results, who knows how. Perhaps, the scientists of that time had some chemicals for the reactions or even tools and equipment that was lost with time and that allowed them…”

  “Alchemist!” the Supreme One interrupted him again.

  “Let me continue,” the Forester came to the rescue. “The data from this table are practically identical to the data we received. To be more exact, our data are even higher on a number of parameters.”

  “And??” the Supreme One sighed impatiently.

  “From various ancient sources we know that the largest Exoduses happened exactly at that time.”

  “And?”

  “We can expect something similar,” the Forester finished carefully.

  “Is that so? So, we can expect?” the Supreme One looked at him from under his bushy eyebrows. “Meaning we also may NOT expect?”

  “It’s better to expect, in my view,” the Forester said unsurely.

  “Why neither of you can tell this in the general meeting? Are you used to put all the responsibility on your Supreme One? Take the Watchman, for example. He is sure that his brave soldiers will be able to deflect any attack on the garrisons. Naturally, they will receive double provisions,” the Supreme One smirked.

  “And the Judge, he decided that he is living in the Era of Equlibrium. Although, judging by the fact that he has two times more servants than I do, he lives not in the Era of Equilibrium, but at least in the Golden Age,” the Supreme One was getting aggravated.

  “And I will tell you why. Because none of you really cares about what happens beyond the Rapid Waters. When was the last time you went to the Forest yourself? Ah? Expedition!” he mocked the Forester. “Where were you seven years ago, when my son went to the Forest with a group of volunteers and never came back? Where?”

  “But you were the one against it,” the thin one said feebly. “I didn’t dare disobey…”

  “Well, you should have,” the Supreme One calmed down and waved at them, “Leave.”

  When they already were at the door, he stopped them, “Alchemist! Stop! How are your highly praised devices, what was their name? Firethrowers?”

  “Flamethrowers, Your Supreme Grace!”

  “Couldn’t you come up with a simpler name?” the Supreme One mumbled, and, stopping with his hand a potential river of explanations the Alchemist was ready to pour on him, continued, “All right, flamethrower it is. So, what’s with them, when are they going to be delivered to the towers?”

  “They are already there,” the Alchemist was quick to reassure him. “We have started their installation on the walls. I will personally go there after the Celebration to check on how accurately they work.”

  “That’s the right move. You both are responsible for this. I don’t want to trust the Watchman with this. His warriors always confuse something.”

  They both assured him that everything would be done properly.

  When the doors finally closed behind the two, the Supreme One let himself lie back in his chair and close his eyes. The damn migraine he had developed on the day he got the news about his son made him almost disabled. The only thing that helped was a decoction made of the herbal mixes that the Alchemist was able to get for him.

  “An interesting thing,” he thought about the residents of near-Forest, “despite the constant threats that are hiding in the Forest, and practically complete absence of various conveniences that are abundant in the City, they are as healthy as stinkhs. And the whisperers of the near-Forest are much better than our homegrown bonesetters. If the Judge is to be believed, every hundredth child is born with defects. And we always blame the Forest for everything. And what if Leo was right when he said that the reason was in us ourselves?”

  He felt a slight draught from an open door and half-opened his eyes, “Cleo, my girl, is that you? Come, give your old man a hug.”

  “Father,” the young lady gave him a caring look and asked, “did these idlers give you a migraine again?”

  “Let the Departed take them,” he said with a smile. “When I see you, I get cured right away.”

  “A spitting image of her mother,” he thought, openly admiring her. “The same thick black mane of hair and airy grace of movement.”

  “What is it
this time?” she asked, putting her hands on his head. “Did they squabble again?”

  “They are more concerned about preparations for the Celebration,” the Supreme One said with a regretful smirk. “As if they don’t have enough holidays.”

  “You know that the people like spectacles. And they love you,” she stroke his head, “and that is something to be proud of.”

  “I have a bad feeling, daughter,” he sighed, “and I don’t know myself about what and what’s happening to me. If only your mother were alive. She was the one with a true gift of prediction. Unlike those criers in the street who call themselves prophets and oracles. They can only perform at the fairs and scare people with the next Last Exodus.”

  “It always happens when it approaches, daddy. I’ve been having bad dreams lately too,” she fell silent for a second, and then continued, “Leo came in my dream…”

  “Let’s not talk about this,” he squeezed her hand.

  “I don’t see him dead, father!” she tore her hand away from his and stepped away. “Why can’t you understand this!”

  “Seven years have passed, daughter! Seven!”

  “Yes, I know. But their bodies have never been found.”

  “It’s the Forest. Even a month is a long time there. I shouldn’t explain this to you,” he tried to stay calm.

  “You always say that I resemble mother when she was young. I may not have her Gift, but I certainly can hear with my heart.”

  “All right,” the Supreme One obviously thought about something. “You are all grown up. Time flies so quickly.”

  He hesitated. It was obvious he wanted to tell her something and it was difficult for him. But then he said, “I have never told you about this before… Do you remember we sent a rescue expedition then?”

  “Of course, and what about it?”

  “They never found them. Only their last camping site. Some things,” he fell silent again.

  “Father, and what?” Cleo was now nearly shouting.

  “Then there was another expedition,” he forced himself to say.