Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 11

Chapter 11. "The primary suture is not sewn"

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 08:33

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Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 08:33

Santelli was furious, but he did it calmly, in a controlled way, which made it doubly frightening. Even the plaits on his temples seemed to have risen high, his beard billowing like a woolly flame around his lower jaw. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hand was literally gripping the axe's headband at his waist. But his voice remained steady, exaggeratedly calm.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 08:35

"Stupid prick..." the foreman said quietly, emphasizing the end of each word. "Stupid narcissistic prick..."

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 08:36

His fingers clenched so tightly on the axe that it looked as if the metal were about to shake and the axe would crack. But the flesh was weaker, and the foreman shook his whitened fingers in the air.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:08

If the performance of rage had somehow impressed Matrice, you couldn't tell that from the apothecary's face. The stern woman did not flinch a muscle as she gloomily watched the tavern attendants wiping blood from the walls. There was a lot of blood, but it didn't interfere with the other customers.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:09

The brether arrived with the new caravan of settlers before dark. Everything was as it should be - shoulder-length hair, mustache and beard, a long two-handed sword, and an arrogance that made the grass on the side of the road wither. The only thing unusual about him was an old leather pouch with a bronze badge stamped with the monogram of Paraclete. Battalion healers from the east used to keep all their gear in it.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:11

The brether misbehaved from the get-go. Instead of going to the address and reporting (and receiving the agreed second quarter of the stipulated fee), he went to the tavern, where the sleepy servants were preparing for another day's work. This was not, after all, the Venerable Gee's tavern, where wine flowed all day long, from dusk to dawn and vice versa. There, in the tavern, the newcomer had behaved wrong, too. He bullied the early guests who wanted to soak their throats with a light beer early in the morning or warmed wine to make them stand warmer at the counter.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:14

The serious people who happened to be in the place looked on with mild bewilderment but without much aggression, so the traveling dude had a good chance of making a fool of himself without repercussions. Well, except to earn himself a reputation as a bad-tempered, squabbling, and uncommunicative man, but who does anyone think that way? But the brether had the misfortune to mess with a gang of three petty criminals, the usual small-time pipsqueak who hang around the newcomers, pushing bad merchandise, trying to outbid the Profit, and, if possible, making a living from petty robbery. And the brether mess hard, to the point of pulling knives. That's where it starts...

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:17

What the brether was trying to achieve was unknown, for it was useless to ask him. Perhaps (and even more likely) he decided to put himself properly. Or maybe something else... One way or another, in response to being shown the knives, he did not cool down like a decent person and did not draw any conclusions about his behavior. Brether did not try to somehow resolve the conflict but pulled out his saber.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:20

The first felon was cut down beautifully. One might even say, artistically. With a red fountain to the ceiling, not a single drop on the blade, and everything else, like in ballads. It was clear at once he had his saber on his belt by right, and he must have a real swordsman fraternity diploma stashed somewhere in his jacket. While the serious men were feverishly trying to figure out what to do with all this, the brether set out to put the other foe down and knocked the knife out of his hand, shortening several fingers in the process. The outlaw, sensing that the end was coming, plucked from his belt and threw at the brether only thing was under his whole, unchopped hand. That is a pouch of ground Mandrake. The same one that is then distilled into "liquid amber".

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:25

The brether was cool and dashing; he slashed the pouch gracefully in midair and stepped toward his opponent, swinging his blade for the decisive blow. He stepped straight into a golden cloud of Mandrake dust and collapsed in utter unconsciousness from his first breath. Because no man has ever been born who can withstand the evil plant in its pristine form without softening through elixirs.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:26

The visiting duelist was hastily stabbed, and that was the end of the adventure, originally diversifying the life of the bored Gate. The weapons and other equipment, for lack of brothers and relatives, went to the tavern. The old gravedigger cleaned up the body according to his right, sanctified by years of tradition. The slain outlaw was gone, too, most likely dragged away by his accomplices to burn and scatter the ashes.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:27

And that would have been all right. But the brether was ordered from the Kingdoms by Santeli, under great secrecy, and for very good payment, and not in "good," but "soldier's," it is one-third heavier than an ordinary gold coin. And who cares about the coins, Pantocrator gives, Pantocrator takes away, and then gives again. It is a mundane matter. Especially since the dead man received only a third of the total amount. But the brether and his bag were already tied up in a serious and imminent enterprise, and finding a full-fledged replacement for him in the remaining days seemed an absolutely impossible task.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 09:30

So the foreman was in a state of quiet rage, and the Mistress of the Apothecary was in intense contemplation.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 11:50

"Should we cancel?" Matrice finally offered.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:33

"No way!" snapped Santelli sulkily, but he caught her disgruntled look and remembered he wasn't talking to an errand girl. "No, we can't," he said a little more calmly, without grasping the axe. "It's all been arranged..."

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:36

"But we don't have a healer and a fighter anymore," Matrice reminded her. "There's nowhere to get one."

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:36

"There are no stalemates, only limits of risk," the brigadier said unexpectedly to himself. Sometimes he uttered sudden aphorisms, vague but beautiful.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:37

Matrice glanced with seeming distraction at the servants, who were smearing red puddles on the floor. The morning's revelers, not embarrassed by the recent bloodshed, were already clattering mugs of scraped pumpkins, the cheapest and most discarded utensils, on the tables. The more respectable crowd was sipping their pewter mugs in a dignified and imposing manner. Among them was Kai, who had missed all the excitement and was not imposing his society on the brigadier. The swordsman didn't drink as much as he waited for the commander to finish talking.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:38

"No healer, no fencer," Matrice repeated. "Would you risk it without them?"

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:38

"Our secret knight will do for a fencer," Santeli said quietly, turning back to the wall as if casually covering his mouth with his hand.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:39

"Discussed," Matrice grimaced as she covered her lips, her smooth face twitching with a grimace and discontented wrinkles like an old mural crumbling with dampness. " It won't work. Kai is good, but he knows knightly, martial combat, and that's not the case here. It takes a brether, a real, urban brether."

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:41

"For lack of..." the brigadier did not finish his famous and scabrous joke parodying the obscene customs of the South.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:42

"No, that won't be okay," Matrice pursed her lips.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 12:42

"And we have a healer, already," said Santelli, pretending not to hear his companion's remarks.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 13:06

"Fuck you," Matrice twisted her fist and unashamedly showed it to her business partner. "The redheaded wench is going to come in handy."

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 13:07

"Didn't you complain the other day that she was useless?" reminded the foreman sneeringly. "And that you overpaid for the redhead?"

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 13:08

"I am," the pharmacist didn't wiggle. "So what? No matter how much milk she gives, it's all mine."

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 13:08

"Give it to me to raid," the foreman suggested bluntly.

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 13:09

"I won't," Matrice retorted. "The girl's not hopeless or armless. She's useful. What she's got is what she's got. But she's no field girl, you know. It still makes her face prickle when she puts the wool on her naked body. When pigs are slaughtered, she almost vomits. And when she found out why we don't have a cemetery and who lives on the Farm, she was shaking her hands all day and broke the measuring cup. She still cries at night, a day or two later, when she thinks I can't hear. She calls for her mother in her sleep, all in a strange language."

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 08:52

"I'll attach Shena to her," Santeli promised very seriously. "To stand over her day and night, to keep her safe."

Camrad_RIP 02.06.23 в 13:10

"I won't," Matrisa repeated. "You'll kill the girl, and it won't do me any good or profit."

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 08:53

"Damn, you..." Santelli literally choked the curse that was bursting from his throat. "As if I'm the only one interested in this! The money is yours!"

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:13

"Yeah," Matrice agreed, looking at the scattering of red droplets that had managed to dry on the ceiling, among the sooty rafters. "And four coins have already gone by the..."

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:15

She wasn't finished. Santelli gritted his teeth. There was nothing to say.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:17

"Find a fencer," Matrice advised me, suddenly very seriously. "A good one, one that will definitely be useful to our cause. Then I'll think about Hel. But I'll only think about it," she clarified at once.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:18

The foreman judiciously assessed his ability to find a real brether with a certificate within two or three days. Quietly cursed and called Kai. More precisely, he waved his hand, showing that now he was free to talk. The swordsman greeted Matrice with a nod, leaned close to the brigadier's ear, and whispered briefly. With each word, Santelдi squinted more and more, until his already narrow eyes drowned in a network of wrinkles.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:20

"So you'll think about Hel if I find a fencer?" repeated the brigadier, looking sharply into the apothecary's eyes. And he said as if he had chopped with an axe. "Start thinking."

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:23

He came out of the joint sharply, shoving some inopportune man out of the way. He was about to shout indignation at the brigadier, but Kai, following him, glanced briefly at the suburban - judging by his clothes - man, and all the indignation was stuck in his throat.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:24

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Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:23

Saphir had already opened the back door of the Apothecary, which led to the annex that served as the operating room. Well, that is, as... it would be more correct to say that it was a versatile room for droch obair, "dirty work". It was used to pile up flora for bulkheading and drying and to store excess oil shale. On occasion, Matrice would negotiate here, unbidden by outsiders' ears. Sometimes pork was cut and salted. And not only pork, for from the point of view of the natives, man, and pig are the same meat, so amputations were carried out on the same deck.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:25

Six months ago, at Elena's insistence, a large table was set up in the center of the big barn instead of the deck, which she personally scraped and scalded with boiling water before any operation. Matrice had been skeptical, but the patients did heal more easily and quickly. Not by much, however, enough. So that the endeavor of "Master Hel" was tacitly accepted.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:32

On the table lay the "tarred man," held by a couple of his friends; the fourth, the foreman, stood at a distance, grimly rolling a coin on his knuckles, a royal coin, green and incredibly false even in appearance.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 13:33

The narrow and long windows, obscured by thin mica plates under the single-pitch roof, provided little light, so Saphir lit three additional magical lamps, "eternal lamps. Lena handed him the shopping basket and greeted the foreman sparingly, trying not to waver in her voice or face. She had not yet had the opportunity to do the treatment alone, and a man named Jan was strictly unpleasant. But the unwritten tradition required that treatment be given as soon as a patient was admitted. It was getting to the point where she would have to work alone for the first time.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 15:08

For a while, Elena thought that all gangs of fortune-seekers (called "brigades" here) were the same - gatherings of bastards and scoundrels willing to risk their lives and souls (whether they existed or not) in search of Profit. Pretty quickly it became clear that this was not the case. The brigades were quite clearly divided by specialization, coverage territories, numbers, marketing, and so on. The Santelli Brigade, for example, was a solid and respected "middle class" that worked on gold and not-too-strong artifacts in the dungeons and was tied to marketing in the Gates.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 15:10

But there was a separate category of brigades, few in number and questionable even in terms of the very flexible morality of the Wastelanders. Their name was "shepskate," which literally translated as "greedy," but it had a second meaning: greed that drove them to cannibalism. The "shepskates" did not seek the Profit themselves. They preyed on those who had already harvested it and carried it to one of the five main cities of the wastelands for sale. And since an attempt on an ordinary "tar man" could be sent to the Farm, the "greedheads" were catching newcomers who had no one to intercede.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 15:14

New people arrived on the Wastelands all the time, fugitives from the Kingdoms, ready to stake their lives in pursuit of fortune or escape from poverty. Some were settling on the land, which was plentiful and hard to work. Some bought equipment with their last coin and went into the dungeons. Most of them died, and no one cared whether it was the claws and teeth or the blade that cut the life of another poor soul. It was his incessant influx of fortune-seekers that a year ago saved the life of Elena, who, with the help of Matrice and Santelle, was simply lost in the motley crowd of the Gate. It was also the one who sustained the existence of the "greedy".

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 15:16

Jan, nicknamed "Meat", was the most famous, the most successful shepskate foreman. And the most cautious, because he had been practicing his craft for years, keeping his head intact. And he got his nickname for a perfectly performed tattoo all over his body, from his heels to his chin. The two-painted drawing very accurately reproduced the body with the skin removed, down to the tiniest muscle. It was said to be the hallmark of thieves' communities from the southeast.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 15:17

"What's the matter with him?" Lena asked, tugging the bonnet tighter and tucking up the sleeves. The experienced Saphir had already brought a leather rolling pin with tools and was rattling the cauldron as he prepared hot water. Jan moved his jaw as if chewing the words before releasing them. His tightly pressed lips made him look like he was about to fold them into a puff and whistle, and his face took on the chronically disgruntled expression of a money changer. The "merchant" face did not match the tattoo that ran up his neck from under his collar or the shaved back of his head, the hairstyle of a warrior who lived by the blade.

Camrad_RIP 03.06.23 в 15:18