It didn’t take much time to check my tiny apartment. About five minutes, but the police officers checked everything carefully. And for some reason the first thing they looked was the bathroom and asked about the contents of the built-in wall closet.
There was nothing to look at in the single room – a bed, a gaming cocoon, a small wardrobe and a desk with a computer. Hypothetically the corpse was nowhere to hide. Although the youngest of the officers did not fail to look under the bed and inside the cocoon.
Damn... I wouldn’t have refused to look inside the cocoon and stay there longer. Time flies ... I still need to visit the funeral dinner. Finally they checked my balcony, leaning over the railing shone down by the flashlight and that was the point when the inspection of the apartment finished. The police returned to the corridor and shook their heads simultaneously, indicating that nothing criminal was found.
Varvara Pavlovna - the old lady was creeping! – was no longer standing in the stairwell but on my doorstep! She pursed her lips disappointedly and seemed to have shrunk, plunging neck into the shoulders. Well, the old woman raised the alarm alert in vain. And the policemen didn’t find loads of corpses that she had promised.
'It is clear,’ the mustached police officer sighed, glancing at his watch. ‘I apologize.’
'Never mind, I understand,’ I shrugged, catching Keira by both hands, pulled her to myself, ‘it’s your job.’
'That's right,’ the policeman sighed like an ordinary human and nodded at the wall where two photos in simple plastic frame were hanging. ‘Are you fond of the Navy?’
'Pardon?’
'Well, if you hung a portrait of Rear Admiral Grohotova on the wall, then you are,’ the mustached policeman squinted, looking at the photo, which depicted an officer in the uniform sternly looking into the camera lens. ‘I remember it was shown the news how he was pursuing Somali pirates. He headed a sort of a fighting force there.’
'Ah, well ,’ I said again, but quite in a different tone. ‘No, I'm not fond of. Quite the contrary. It is the parents. Mom and Dad. My Mom I is an economist and my Dad is a sailor.’
The apartment went silent, and I was under the crosshairs views. Even Keira looked surprised, having returned from the world of dreams into reality.
'It is clear,’ the police officer coughed. ‘Do you are...’
'Grokhotov Rostislav Alexeevich,’ I shrugged, pulling slipping old sports pants by one hand. ‘My passport is on the fridge.’
‘And you?’
'Krapivina Keira Konstaninovna,’ the girl replied in a husky voice. ‘My passport is at home. But I can call my father and he’ll bring the documents.’
'Ahem ... Is the first deputy mayor Konstantin Krapivin your relative?..’
‘He’s my Dad,’ Keira sighed, pointing a finger at me, muttered absolutely sincerely. ‘I want to go to bed.’
'We apologize for bothering you,’ the mustached police officer said, briefly, and the trio of the policemen walked to the exit.
'He had blood on his face! And hands!’ the neighbor bleated hastily in a quite uncertain voice retreating from the path of the police. ‘That’s why I got worried and called the police.’
The mustached policeman exhaled a noisy air from the chest and gave me a weary look.
'There was blood,’ I confirmed quietly. ‘I was just taking out the garbage and waited for a taxi with my girlfriend when a car accident happened in front of the house. I didn’t see exactly what happened – I arrived when the second car fled the scene. I tried to help the injured driver of the silver foreign car who lives in the twenty-story building next to my house. Then my girlfriend arrived, she was not feeling well, a serious cold, I took her home and called an ambulance. Then I informed the guards of the house, where the injured driver lives about the accident and returned to the apartment. And then you came.
'It’s clear... Rostislav Alekseevich. Thank you for your cooperation and fulfilling your civic duty once again,’ the policeman saluted me, and stepped over the threshold, hissing barely audible and hopefully, ‘What an old witch...’
After seeing the police to the door, I said goodbye politely and gently closed the door behind them. The lock clicked dryly, and then I allowed myself to exhale in relief. To my great surprise, subdued Varvara Pavlovna didn’t say a word and generally looked rather lost.
Keira buried he face in my chest and said something faintly, I asked anxiously, 'Are you alright? Look, maybe you’d better go to the hospital?’
Keira shook her head and sighed sadly, I picked her up, carried her into the room and put her on the bed. My back howled in protest and crunched, but it survived that short-term load.
'Just don’t try to fall asleep!’ I warned her, heading for the kitchen. I have never had any special delicacies at home, but the water was always in excess. First I drank enough, soaking throat parched due to anxiety, then carried almost full bottle to the girl and ordered, 'Drink!’
'What is it?
'Water, what else?’ I muttered and repeated, ‘Drink! Drink at least a liter. You need to get rid of the stuff that you have been stuck. Drink, I say!’
I kept up persuading resisting Keira until she drank as much water as she could. I put the bottle beside the bed that was within reach, covered the girl with a blanket right over the plaid.
'Thank you, Ross ,’ Keira murmured falling asleep. ‘I’ll sleep a little.’
‘Don’t you need to call your parents?’ I asked forcefully. ‘It’s very late. By the way, where's your mobile?’
'Gosha has it,’ replied the girl. ‘I don’t need to call my parents. They know that I'm going to spend this night at a friend’s place...’
'Well, well,’ I muttered, looking at the slumbering girl.
If her influential daddy raises the alarm and starts looking around the city in search of his beloved child... especially if her cell phone is at injured Gosha or in the hands of the police... in short, there will be a great mess, and I'll be in the middle of it.
I scratched my head thoughtfully, shrugged my shoulders, and splashed into the kitchen, where I made a big sandwich and eagerly ate it up with sweet tea. I would have eaten more, I was really hungry, but I didn’t have enough time. I was almost late.
I stretched out on the elastic cocoon bed, took one last look at the sleeping girl and pulled the noise-proof helmet. I heard a soft click when the lid lowered automatically.
Entrance.
Hello, Valdira, I returned ...
Flash.
I heard the roar of drunken voices long before I got to the required house. However, it was even better – I understood immediately where to go, I did not have to rummage in the dark looking for the address.
The funeral dinner devoted to the old fisherman was held in the yard, where lavishly laid tables spread under the branching fruit trees. In rural standards, of course. There were no special delicacies, but the tables were laden with wooden dishes and clay pots. There were a lot of people. Women dressed in mourning clothes were singing a long, plaintive song; drunken men continued drinking, a separate group of village patriarchs was restrained, dark and their clothes reminded crows.
Standing behind a low fence, I saw enough of the crowd, realizing that I was thinking that somehow it looked too... realistic. Actually there was a mere ordered set of numbers in front of me, sly self-improving programs... but they looked much livelier than many of my friends in the real world. For example, Igor from my former work - the silent man with a poker face and stiff look was more like a cyborg, not a man of flesh and blood – he seemed a real game character. And here was the real fun and life.
Among the closely seated on the benches people I hardly found a broad back of Stathan – the shopkeeper and went straight to him. I was on my way to him when a swaying man decisively stopped me, handed me a big-sized mug and ordered briefly, 'Let's drink!’
'Let's drink,’ I agreed obediently and made a few sips of the contents of the mug. Beer. And it was good.
/> The guy nodded, took my empty mug and scrabbling his feet, walked to the pot-bellied barrel standing at a distance. I hurried back to Stathan. If I was stopped like this a couple of time here, I would get to the shopkeeper in a deranged state.
On seeing me, Stathan who was already well-drunk slapped me on the shoulder and almost forcibly seated next to him, forcing the neighbor to make room. He moved the dish with roast pork closer to me, the shopkeeper poked me in the ribs and boomed, 'So you came! Well done! And I really thought that you had forgotten about our agreement, that you decided not to fight against our charm viper that made our old Jogly pass away... ugh!’
The good shopkeeper coughed, for the simple reason – I slammed my elbow in his ribs and hissed angrily, ‘Hush! Hush, dear Stathan! If everybody knows about our agreement, then I won’t be able to find out the truth!’
'You’re right,’ the shopkeeper nodded, sheepishly scratching his bruised rib. ‘Then let's drink!’
‘Well… damn it...’ I muttered, taking a mug of a monster size as big as my head.
'It’s a great sin not to remember the deceased by a good drink!’ Stathan added pointedly and got stuck to his mug.
I took one sip and then asked, 'Stathan and where is the viper? That is old Jogly’s daughter-in-law.
'Over there,’ Stathan nodded grimly, and I followed his gaze.
Two persons were sitting at the head of the table. An utterly downcast and somber man of about forty-five, with a bowl of cropped yellow hair and a bulbous nose. And on his right... there was… oh my god ... indescribable. What I saw before my eyes rolled back under the brow and jaw hit the table top, was a thick mop of jet-black hair, olive skin, incredibly huge green eyes and sensuous parted lips. After that, I got blinded by the girl’s radiance. Her beauty was so indescribable that I almost became a poet. Do you remember the immortal words?
When you first came into my sight, in the darkness of ideal black,
My dark-haired beauty, you feast my eyes.
I’ll fall down at your feet, asking for a sign of...
No, there were none of such words ... Ugh! What kind of rhyming nonsense I am uttering?! Well, that’s how they become poets. And I’ve got such a chance, then I can amuse people by my verse... as soon as I cease stuttering...
'What? She impressed you too, my dear, didn’t she?’ Stathan chuckled knowingly biting into a chicken thigh with a crunch. ‘We got used to it! And before that every time I saw her I felt that my legs became limp...’
'Ah-huh,’ I blurted with an effort and looked back at the girl with a bit more sober glance.
No, I hadn’t seen a fascinating mirage. She was really very beautiful. So beautiful that the first thought was ‘what did she find in the village musclehead?!’ The contrast between them was huge. The ordinary good-natured hillbilly with a peasant face, and... the queen of elegance and charm. The goddess of love. If such a beauty emerged in the real world... a lot of guys would forget about sleep.
I am sure that the designer who created it got a lot of money for that job. It was a real piece of art!
A slim body was hidden under blackout mourning garment up to the throat, but it couldn’t conceal the ideal proportions. The girl was sitting modestly, keeping silence unlike her hubby, but she didn’t forget to put on his plate the best pieces of food, as well as to pour wine into his mug.
'You’d better drink,’ Stathan advised me. ‘Otherwise you won’t recover. Good beer is the best remedy.’
'Yeah,’ I said, making a tiny sip and looking at the girl over my mug.
Unreal.
Such perfect facial features, body, etc. Definitely they were not standard templates usually used by the creators of the game for such locations as a small village. The girl should live in the capital, where tens of thousands of gamers constantly hungry for entertainment and excitement hanged about. She should be dressed up in silk and velvet, wear a pearl necklace round her neck and a sparkling tiara in her hair like a real princess. Moreover, all the locals were fair-haired and chubby in contrast to her oriental type.
'Stathan, and what is her name?’
'Her name?’
‘Yup.’
'Everybody calls her Alishana,’ Stathan snorted. ‘What a strange name! It must be overseas. Would you like some caviar?’
'Eggplant?’ I asked mechanically.
'No, local origin, extracted from the belly of eardrower!’
'Pardon? From whose ear? Ok, never mind! Let me try,’ I agreed and the well drunk shopkeeper began filling my plate with caviar, ignoring the fact that he was putting black beads on the top of roasted pork. I did not pay attention to it either. As I was thinking about other things.
Alishana… It's definitely not a local name. And if the girl was once pushed into the village, there must be a reason. Some quest or at least a touching story. For example, when being a very young girl she was traveling with her wealthy father-merchant on business, but suddenly they were attacked by robbers who killed everybody except her. Miraculously or accidentally she managed to escape. And then the poor little orphan arrived at that village... well, I’ll have to think a lot to find out the truth, but at that moment I was primarily interested in the old man’s story, in the story of deceased Jogly.
'Stathan, please, tell me where your graveyard is exactly!’
'Over there on the hill,’ the shopkeeper waved a hand carelessly somewhere outside the house in the darkness of night. ‘It’s dotted with graves. First you’ll see the temple, and the cemetery is situated behind it.’
‘And where is old Jogly’s grave? How can I find it?’
'It’s very easy. It’s the one completely strewn with fresh flowers, and there are five bowls of oil burning on it.’
'It is clear,’ I nodded. ‘Thank you!’
'Are you going there right now? Are you crazy! It’s not a good idea to hang about cemeteries at night! Something terrible can happen.’
'Ok,’ I said getting up from the table.
I’ve attended the funeral dinner, I’ve seen the daughter-in-law and her husband. But anyway I don’t have a chance to talk to them now. That means I can do more interesting work.
I said goodbye to the shopkeeper and walked away slowly while checking the spells “gloved” into my hands. And at the very gates I came across a burly bossy man, who hastily blocked my path.
'Good evening, sir,’ I said politely and stared questioningly at the barrier in front of me.
'Good evening, stranger,’ he nodded by his beard. ‘I'm a local elder. My name is Gregor.’
'I’m Rosgard,’ I introduced myself.
‘I have one work for you, Rosgard, please, I don’t refuse, listen to me,’ the elder pronounced a standard formula of quest offer.
'I’m ready to listen to you,’ I nodded in response. ‘But can we postpone our conversation until tomorrow? It’s getting late, and I'm in a hurry. What do you agree, noble elder?’
'But the conversation is very short!’ said the man, and I nodded accepting the inevitable. Actually I could reject a quest, but I didn’t feel like quarreling with the elder. Why not to listen!
'A trouble came to our village, good man,’ Gregor sighed stroking his beard. ‘If you help, I won’t leave your favor unanswered! At least I will give you five silver coins and a barrel of home brew.’
'What kind of trouble?’
'Well, in fact the trouble isn’t big, you can do it without batting an eye!’ the elder assured. ‘Our averter escaped.’
'Who escaped, sir?’
'Our averter. Well, that’s the way we call it. And in the city where I’ve bought it recently, they call this beast a unieye. Have you heard about it?’
'Uh-uh... maybe,’ I became concerned, throwing a sidelong glance at the bag thrown over my shoulder, where the remains of the ugly unieye were kept. ‘Do you want me to find the escaped animal and kill it?’
'No way! No way!’ the elder waved his hands. ‘No way! Well, this is our talisman, it prote
cts our village against evil spirits and their nasty behavior! There are a lot of evil beasts roaming in our dense forests! But this little creature has got a gift - its eye can see everything that’s beyond our vision. It immediately begins screaming and grunting, giving us a sign. And if it squealed, the evil spirits immediately flee away without looking back! They can’t stand its squeal! We can’t live without! Can you find it and bring back to our village? It is a peaceful animal, if you show it a carrot or a root, it will follow you quietly, like a dog. So, do you agree, a good man?
Damn it all!
'Uh-uh...’ I choked and hastily blurted out,’ I agree. I’ll search in neighborhood villages and if I notice it, I’ll bring it back to you, don’t worry!’
You got the quest "Search for a unieye"
Find the escaped unieye in the surroundings of Mossy Hills.
The quest minimum conditions: find and bring the unieye to the elder called Gregory.
Reward: five silver coins and a barrel of home brew.
'We will be grateful to you!’ Gregory blurted happily and handed me a bundle of cloth. ‘Please, take these tubers and roots! It likes them very much! But the main thing is not to harm to him, and don’t be afraid of its look! At first glance, it’s terrible as hell, but in fact it’s as tender as a calf! As soon as you see it, show it a root. It will trust you at once!’
'Uh-huh.’
'I will be waiting for good news!’ the elder told me before saying good-bye and hurrying to the set table.
I looked at his back, sighed sadly and left the gate.
Fuck! But who knew it? The good thing was that I didn’t tell anybody about the contents of my bag. That would surprise the elder, if I showed him the remains of his precious unieye. The relationship with the village would be completely ruined. What a naive moron I was! I even hoped for a reward ...
Overwhelmed with these thoughts, I walked in the required direction glancing around as well as at the moon hanging in the middle of the sky. Soon it would become full. Time for werewolves ...
The Way of the Clan 2 (World of Valdira) Page 6