Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 21

Chapter 21. The Chopped Coin

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 16:29

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Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 16:29

Lena did not remember the way back. It was somewhere in the back of her mind, merged into an endless series of steps, falls, knee-deep falls into hidden "holes" among the wet grass. If there is a hell in the other world, the medic thought, it looks like this. The real torture is when you torture yourself.

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 16:31

Sweat mixed with mud, crushed frog roe, and other swamp impurities covered her entire body with a slippery film that would not wash off. Clothes were soaked to the last thread and hung on the body like a shell, which does not protect from anything and is designed only to burden every movement. The smell of urea has permeated everything around them, and it seems that the world is stinking all by itself now, from here to eternity. Her legs don't hurt anymore. They've turned into heavy stakes that feel nothing. Every step she has to control with her eyes. But she still walks.

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 16:35

The only evidence that the process was somehow underway were the milestones marking the way back. However, it was not easy with them either.

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 16:56

Santelli trusted few people, especially when he bought loyalty with threats or money. He didn't trust the swamp dwellers, either, even though the "fed" community lived mainly by providing respite, lodging, and supplies for the brigades. While still in the Gate, planning his return from his cursed home, Santelli had wondered what if the swamp dwellers decided to deceive him.

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 17:52

He had never had any complaints before, but there was a first time for everything. The brigades passing through this community were missing a little more often than they should. Santelli did not know the word "statistics," but he felt the essence of science very well.

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 17:53

The brigadier consulted with Biso and Aynar, who, because of his former profession, was regularly confronted with attempts to cheat a performer out of his wages and concluded that it was unlikely that they would try to stab them in their sleep or poison them. It would be easier to drown the brigade on the way back and take Profit - it was whispered about the swamp dwellers that they knew how to make the mire share what had fallen into it. The conscience is almost clear, and one can honestly answer that one has not touched anyone. And what's the easiest way to ruin people in the swamps? To move the milestones. They say we don't know anything. The travelers lost their way and drowned. So sad...

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 17:55

That's why the signal branches, which the brigade used to mark the way, were special this time. Biso, as usual, marked each one with a hidden magical sign to indicate that it had been moved, but he marked it faintly so that even the worst village sorcerer could fake it. And in addition to the first set, he and Einar made a second set of inconspicuous pegs, which turned out to be more cunning and inconspicuous.

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 17:57

On the way to the house, Zilber placed the "official" milestones, while Einar secretly placed the secret ones. When they returned, the trackers checked these "twos". Everything was in order - not far from the usual stick was also a secret one. Until about a quarter of the way to the edge of the mire. Here the milestones split, with the obvious ones going one way and the hidden ones going the other.

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 17:59

"Assholes," Einar said with expression, though without much anger, after a brief meeting with Biso. "Lousy, scruffy, emaciated assholes."

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 18:00

"Tried to cheat after all..." Santelli had to catch his breath before he could answer. His arm ached terribly, and since it could not be unloaded on the way, the foreman began to fear that a splint and compresses would not be the end of the matter.

Camrad_RIP 10.07.23 в 18:01

"That's right," the shield-bearer grinned. - That's what I say, damn bastards. Well, let's move on."

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:07

You walk... and walk again. Your mind is no longer sufficient for even very brief thoughts. There is only the back of the one ahead of you, and the twitching of the rope indicates that someone is trailing behind. There is nothing else in the world. Only swamps, mud, stench, and a hellish pain in the lower back, behind the spine. So Lena missed the moment when it stopped squelching and splashing under her feet and began to sludge. A little while later, the shoes stepped on almost solid ground, and the grass no longer seemed like sandpaper stripped to ribbons. It was only at the last rest the girl realized there were even more or less normal trees and tall shrubs around and that there was smoke in the distance.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:09

"Shall we kill them all?" suggested Einar without much enthusiasm, looking gloomily at the sword, which was already covered in the first streaks of rust, promising its owner long worries of cleaning and oiling.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:10

"They haven't given us a night's lodging yet," the foreman said. "Later. Maybe."

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:11

"Life is unfair shit," Zilber summarized.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:11

They reached the village of the swampers after dark. The brigade was not welcome. They were not expecting the "tarry ones" to show up. This was evident in everything, from the slanted glances to the missing horse Number Four. So Santelli did not delay and immediately took the boar by the fangs.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:31

"You have upset me," he jabbed his finger at the chief's chest, no longer trying to sound polite. The skinny brigadier seemed puny in comparison with the big-bellied leader of the swamp community, but the shove shook the chief visibly.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:32

"And what?" He asked, agonizing over what to do now. This finally convinced Santelli that the community had not been on the path of robbery long ago. They hadn't had any misfires yet, so they hadn't developed a pattern of what to do in such cases.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:34

"Eat. Lots of it. Drink. Plenty, too. Water and beer, light," Santelli began, curling his fingers in front of the big guy's nose to be sure. "Boiling water and clean clothes. As much as our healer says. And for washing, of course. Beds and blankets. In the warmth. And to wash all our clothes."

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:45

The Brigadier didn't even have to look at the chief's face to read his thoughts. Give everything now and at night...

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:46

"And at night, we'll sleep soundly and peacefully," Santelli grinned. The Brigadier's face was already unsympathetic, and now, in the mud and dried slime, framed by a slick beard, it looked like the frozen mask of a devil. "And maybe I won't say anything at the Gate."

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:48

The chieftain's face twisted with undisguised anger that turned into a sly grin. You'll have to come to your Gate first...

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 06:52

"Because you're the fool, and I'm the smart one," the foreman smirked, not attempting to hide his contemptuous arrogance. "And Routier and his gang are coming here tomorrow. I've paid them handsomely to make sure if I'm not here, they'll build a pyramid on us, not of stones, but of your heads."

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 10:35

The brigadier waited a moment, giving his interlocutor a chance to comprehend what he had heard, and added with calculated rigor:

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 10:36

"All heads."

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 10:37

"You don't have so much money," the bog man tried to be imposing and stern but snapped out of it and finish in falsetto.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 10:39

"And I paid to Draoidheach," the foreman grinned insolently.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 10:40

This was where the Chief was really hurt. He looked into the brigadier's eyes, which seemed blacker than night, and felt the streams of sweat trickling under his woolen shirt. Santelli was not intimidating. He was not pressured. He was just informing. And who on the Wastelands was called Draoidheach, "The Plague," everyone knew. He was a man who never acted in vain but who took money and scrupulously fulfilled his orders under any circumstances.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 11:17

Any order.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 10:40

"And bring back the horse, for you've been in a hurry to take it up," Santelli grinned even wider. "And don't forget to feed it and gather oats for the road."

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 11:18

He bit his lip, panted, rolled his eyes, and tried to find a way to retreat with at least a semblance of dignity. Santelli didn't press him further, reasoning that it was unnecessary. The village was finished anyway. Because reputation is as strong as steel and as fragile as the first ice flake in the fall. Mention the rearranged milestones at the Gate, and the only one who will come here from then on is "Meat" Ian. In other circumstances, Santelli might have kept quiet and punished the marauding bogmen in other ways, but Brigadier had no patience for such cunning in business, and after talking to the Duke, he had no intention of returning to the marshes.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 11:20

"It'll be all right," said the fat man, waving his hand in surrender. "We'll just put in the pots for the water...."

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 11:21

Elena threw off her load, no longer caring about the "Vietnamese footlocker", and knelt down, with difficulty overcoming the desire to get on all fours, relieving her lower back. Now the medicine woman knew the true happiness, the ultimate cosmic happiness. It did not consist of washing, changing clothes, eating, and sleeping after an incredibly exhausting journey. It was in the knowledge that it was all here, at arm's length. And would now be, one might say, drinking the full cup. The anticipation can be much more exciting than the process itself.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 11:23

And then there was a hot-water wash and new clothes, not to her height, darned and rough, but clean. And a thorough examination of the injury. The Hypnotist's tentacle had left a wide bruise covering her lower back with a dark gray stain, but that seemed to be the end of it.

Camrad_RIP 12.07.23 в 11:22

And sleep again, this time without visions or other horrors.

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 15:53

* * *

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 15:53

The house stood like a forgotten sentry, still on duty, waiting for a shift that would never come. Like centuries before, it looked out at the swamp through the blind window cavities, a shard of the old world. The sun passed across the yellowish sky in a dim circle, like a senile eye clouded with disease. The moon rose, almost invisible in the stifling fumes. Blueish lights glided across the dark marsh, and the animals, both large and small, which had been cheered up by the coming of night, swarmed about. Some were hunting, and some were defending their prey from the stronger. Under the dense carpet of vegetation splashed noisily, giving away its secret life, which continued in the depths beyond the eye and mind.

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:36

The house slumbered uneasily, occasionally responding with the creak of a board or the rustle of fallen plaster to the bustle of the swamp. But the studio was very quiet - the glass pyramid muffled all noise. Here everything remained as usual, unchanged. Only the easel was empty, and the magic mirror was lying on the floor as a handful of trash - Kai had approached the matter responsibly. He had not only split the mirror cloth but had broken the wooden base, bent and flattened all the metal parts. The swordsman's heart was breaking - as a "tarred" with experience, he realized that with his own hands, he was destroying a unique thing of unthinkable price. But, understanding the importance of secrecy, he did his best to make sure that no restorer or warlock would ever be able to restore the destroyed artifact.

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:39

Kai would have been all the more surprised to see the shards of mirror crumbled to diamond dust glow from within. Faintly, barely, as if catching the reflected light of the moon, which was barely visible in the murky air of the night marshes. The flicker pulsed, gaining strength, and now the glow could be seen without straining the eyes. A little more, and the pyramid was already glowing ghostly blue from within. Only the blue of that blue made the swamp creatures - both natural and mystical - run in all directions instead of rushing to the house, hungry for life. Finally, when the flicker became incredibly bright, seemingly able to melt even the glasses of combat goggles, the pyramid shone with a deep, rich inner light, like a faceted tourmaline, and went out.

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:40

Broken glass crunched underfoot. Two broad-shouldered figures, clad head to toe in thick cloaks with hoods pulled low, moved and stepped uncertainly as if checking to make sure they had everything in place. The third man, smaller and narrower in the shoulders, moved more briskly, more easily. It was as if transgression for him was ... ordinary. Habitual. Though such a thing was considered impossible - the secret of soul-safe travel through space had been lost along with the rest of the wonders of the Old Empire.

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:42

While the mighty attendants were trying to curb their nausea and assess the damage from the displacement, the third person managed to walk around the studio and back to the transition point. He sat down lightly on his knee and turned the mirror's debris with his thin gloved hand. One piece of the frame particularly interested the observer.

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:45

Without paying attention to his companions, the person turned the wood with both hands and did something. A vague, mysterious action that did not manifest itself in any way but echoed heavily in the world. The glazing of the studio rattled, the metal rattled, and the easel shook, so the structure almost fell over. One of the big men staggered back and grabbed his face. A thin trickle of blood dripped from his nose. The other silently covered his eye with his hand, where small blood vessels were bursting.

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:48

In response to the action, features, and lines, short and curved, emerged from the depths of the wooden fragment. Obedient to the unintelligible whisper, they seemed to float to the surface, forming a distinctive pattern. Fingerprints, as if illuminated by ultraviolet light. The spot where Lena had touched the magic mirror until she was stopped by Biso's shout.

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:49

"There you are," the sorcerer remarked softly, but with a strange, inappropriate mirth - and it was definitely a sorcerer. His voice was soft, velvety. "Finally."

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:50

"We won't be able to track her here," muttered one of the attendants in a low bass, wiping his nose with a handkerchief. "Very strong presence of the otherworldly around here."

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:51

"At least we know she was here," the wizard's face was hidden beneath the hood, but a satisfied voice suggested - the man was genuinely, quite smiling. "And quite recently."

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:52

"But how can we find her?" asked the other. "If we can't follow the trail?"

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:53

"As always," the wizard was still smiling. "We will look for those who know more than us and ask them, one by one. First, we'll move along the edge of the floodplains. Then we'll move on to the local towns."

Camrad_RIP 11.07.23 в 20:53