Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 12

Chapter 12 Kisses, fireworks, cheers

Camrad_RIP 01.11.23 в 18:05

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Camrad_RIP 01.11.23 в 18:05

Elena was silently preparing for surgery and thinking intensely.

Camrad_RIP 01.11.23 в 19:46

The conspiracy and haste were, in general, understandable, as was the willingness of the boss to turn not to the shop healer but to an unknown wench with no apprenticeship or diploma. In the world of the "night people," morals reigned outwardly restrained but, in fact - cannibalistic. The power of the "patrons" was based on personal authority, which had to be maintained and strengthened. And it was necessary to maintain and strengthen it constantly because every single boss knew that dozens of eyes were staring at his back, just waiting for a blunder, for any evidence of weakness. In such conditions, "shameful disease" could only play to the disadvantage and even give rise to jokes about Sodom's vice. Therefore, the earlier and more inconspicuously to get rid of it, the better.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:01

But all this did not make the task of medicine any easier. Elena had a great deal of experience in opening boils of all kinds, as it was the most common ailment in prison. From poor food and unsanitary conditions. But not like this. So what to do was clear. But how to do it all technically ... And what if, say, the needle gets into a blood vessel, which around the intestines must be immeasurable? You can't squeeze or cauterize it.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:02

It was the middle of the midnight watch when everything was packed and ready for the operation. The water was steaming, the infusion of dried chamomile smelled pleasant, and the needle had been brought in a good one. It seemed that one could prick oneself at the mere sight of it. Elena looked over the inventory, replayed the sequence of actions in her mind, and asked:

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:20

"Are you ready?"

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:19

"Work," the boss hissed through his teeth.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:20

Badas, Elena remembered. Exactly, his name is Badas. It had slipped in somewhere once in a conversation with a dwarf. Funny, almost like Badass. She smirked but realized she wasn't laughing at all.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:30

"It's going to be hard. I don't have time to stir the elixir for the pain. The main thing is not to twitch at the moment of puncture, or I'll spoil it," Elena warned.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:31

The boss replied with an untranslatable phoneme, which was built around the extremely coarse form "clench your buns and endure" and meant something like "don't piss off, we'll get through it." He said it himself and laughed loudly, appreciating the subtle irony. The laughter, however, had a distinctly hysterical note, a sure sign that the patient was on the verge.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:32

"Well, let's go," the medicine woman whispered to herself and began to burn the needle on the candle flame.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:22

As the old books used to say, let us drop the veil of mercy over the scene that followed. Let us only say that the hand of the healer was experienced and firm, the patient stoically endured, and God had evidently decided that Badas had not yet taken the full measure of his sins on earth. Everything had gone normally without excesses. As far as one could call "normal" the puncture of a pustule in the rectum with a faceted needle using a mirror and a magic lamp. And the subsequent rinsing with a decoction of chamomile. Suffice it to say that Elena had not been so exhausted for many months, and her clothes stank through, worse than at the fish market at the end of a summer evening. Yes, it had been quite a day, with both a cadaver dissection and extreme medical practice.

Camrad_RIP 04.11.23 в 07:36

"Well, that's it," Elena wrapped the bandage around her patient's chest and smeared the rotten slop from the pot for good measure.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:29

Chest wounds usually restricted mobility, so there would be no question why the boss was sitting upright. Badas looked very pale, but he held on. After all, suffering equalizes people, and there was no trace of the bandit's force on his weary face instead of angry readiness. His eyes were filled with pain, bordering on desperate hope.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:35

"I'll come back tomorrow night. We'll see how things go from there. Drink only water during the day. Don't eat anything."

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:36

"What do you want?" looking away, the boss asked softly.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:37

The healer thought hard. It wasn't worth asking for money. If the villainous face had meant it, it would have given it right away. It was a favor.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:38

"I need to get to ..." she had to rack her brain, remembering the address. "And soon, preferably before morning. Give me a couple of men to escort me there and then to the prison."

Camrad_RIP 04.11.23 в 07:37

"I'll give you a cart," muttered the bandit, squirming on his ass, which was securely wrapped in a diaper of clean, boiled rags. "There's no need to tire your legs. And tomorrow after sunset."

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 17:05

"Like a bayonet," Elena promised, and again, she could barely keep from smiling when she realized she had mechanically translated from Russian, using instead of "bayonet," the slang definition of a knight's dagger in the form of a faceted pin. Such linguistic mishaps happened to her less and less often, but sometimes they did happen.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 17:07

"What?" The boss asked suspiciously.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 17:08

"I will," Elena promised gravely, estimating what complications might set in after such a dissection and how quickly it would bring the patient to the grave. She should have been afraid, but she was too tired. She was desperate for sleep, and in such a situation, she could only get a nap in the morning in prison, and that with a lot of luck. There was a training session with the Draftsman in the evening and then the crippled villain.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 18:36

Though the South of Milvess was a snooty, disdainful look on the northern part, it was still not the salt of the land of the Thousand Wells. The heart of the City and the continent was a small (relatively, of course) piece of land to the southwest, separated by an old fortress wall. The first inhabitants had once settled here, settling on a large promontory. From here, the houses, streets, and buildings stretched further to the east and north.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 18:37

The Old City had survived everything, even the Cataclysm. The palaces and estates of the Primators, the entire bureaucracy of the capital, the Temple of the Sixty-Six Attributes, the great hippodrome, the arena for the Tournament of Faiths, and the Imperial Palace still stood there. It had shrunk in size by two-thirds compared to its former size, as well as the power of the new emperors who had been stripped of their magical powers. But it was still considered one of the wonders of the world.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 18:42

Here, near the dilapidated wall that had once protected young Milvess, was the home of an unknown noblewoman. Technically still on the "simpler" side, east of the fence, but as close to the Old City as possible without sixty-six generations of noble ancestors in the family tree. Elena wanted to whistle but only shook her head. The place is "trump." The land here was truly golden. Houses passed from generation to generation. To build something here without the consent of the primators was impossible, and to rent was insanely expensive. So, the Black Countess was richer than other royalty. Or rather, the family of the Countess, she was too young for the matriarch. And it seemed that today, the girl was having a great time.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 18:46

The pair of escorts from the boss remained in the shadows, avoiding the guards frequent in this part of the city, while Elena made her way toward the main gate with a firm stride.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 18:47

The small square in front of the house was like a horse market and a recruitment camp at the same time. Horses, luxurious stretchers, and even a couple of carriages. That could be used only by persons of purely noble blood. Servants, guards, sweepers shoveling horse manure, "quick snack" merchants who appeared out of thin air, corrupt women, a few city guards who puffed themselves up and tried to match the background of richly dressed warriors, some other people whose profession Elena could only guess. All this motley assemblage moved, talked, ate and drank, and warmed themselves at the portable fryers. Someone had already crossed swords in the distance, and they fought seriously, at least to the point of "falling and not getting up" [1]. Horses were roaring, the vapor from the breath of many swallows melting in the night air.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 18:54

There were two things in common: their conspicuous wealth (and hubris) and the deliberate mutedness of their speeches. Each of those gathered in the square puffed himself up as much as he could, trying to demonstrate wealth and grandeur, but at the same time, trying to do it as quietly as possible, as if he was afraid to be heard outside the white stone fence. There, inside, the windows of the four-story house were shimmering with light, and pleasant music tinkled with crystal-honey notes. There was definitely a reception with a party.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:10

Slowly walking between the grouping of warriors and servants, Elena quickly went over in her mind the meager knowledge of the local high society. Every guest was a retinue, at least a dozen people, from personal servants to bodyguards. But a dozen is the minimum because a decent Count Ishpan does not go to a feast with less than a dozen soldiers. And this is not bravado but a severe necessity because the transition from "good day, how are you?" to "ultra-violence!!!" in late feudal society was unpredictable and rapid. Only the Pimators, who saw themselves as an island of the old civilized world in an ocean of post-catastrophic savagery of manners, were spared from this. This is how Roman senators would have felt among the barbarian kingdoms of the early Middle Ages.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 19:25

Here, outside, there are a couple hundred people for sure, but they are, so to speak, the lower level, who have no access to the lord's house. Some more inside, the most trusted and loyal, as well as the most loyal clients, minions, courtesans, and gigolos. Thus, it turns out that the notional duchess, without a name, has gathered a party of twenty or more people equal to herself. Very cool. Elena felt her legs shaking, but she took her will in a fist and tried to walk briskly, confidently. She was escorted with glances, but they did not try to bully her. The woman passed between two stone bowls, each the size of a good cauldron, where a hot fire blazed. Further on, the gateway began.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:07

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Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:06

Flessa awoke, and her first thought was that she'd had too much to drink that morning. As a rule, the future duchess avoided alcoholic adventures, mindful of her father's commandment to good judgment. The old man once caught his youngest daughter, who was then ten years old, for tasting expensive wine. The ruler first waited patiently until the hops had cleared from the young girl's head, then worked hard with a whip. And then, when the girl had sobbed her tears, he took her by the hand and led her to the family archive, where, unrolling old parchment and precious papyrus, he read to the girl a detailed lecture on the life and death of noble families. Very seriously, as an adult, and putting special emphasis on death. Flessa did not forget the humiliation, for which the servants who witnessed the punishment at the wrong time were cruelly punished afterward. But neither had she forgotten that in times of open warfare and vendettas, up to a quarter of a generation of Bonom aristocrats died violent deaths in battle, exile, or imprisonment. In more peaceful times, the percentage fell, of course, but it never fell below a tenth, except in the irrevocably past era of the Old Empire. And immoderate drinking was the best companion of murderers, poisoners, and bribed guards.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 19:41

But Flessa couldn't say that hangovers were entirely unfamiliar to her. Like this morning, on the first day of a new decade of life. And most unpleasant of all, she couldn't remember what had caused the unplanned breakdown. In her buzzing head, faces, events, and scraps of memories were jumping around in a crazy carousel. It was like a broken kaleidoscope, with colored glasses spilling out in complete disorder.

Camrad_RIP 05.11.23 в 19:42

So ... what she remembered for sure was the pleasant fact that the Ishpans, the Gastalds, the young and not-so-young heirs of Noble Houses, none had declined the invitation, claiming to be ill. A snake from the Wastelands, soaked in wine vinegar and roasted with herbs on a spit. Laughter, fireworks, and other merriment. Crane stuffed with three kinds of fine meat. "Liquid Smoke." Several young aristocrats, in varying degrees of courtesies, tried to drive wedges at the vice duchess. Traditional wine, fortified wine, and dead water infusions. Roast from a pig fed on the milk of sixty cows [2]... Heck, the bill from the chefs would indeed be insane, but it was worth it. As her father used to say, the front table isn't for eating. It's an investment in reputation. An abundance of expensive food and wine is the most spectacular and inexpensive display of status.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:12

And what happened then, and why did the birthday girl get drunk like a commoner from the song about two merry widows who spent the night in the mud at the tavern? Was it really that good?

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:16

Flessa opened her heavy eyelids a second time and looked up at the carved wood. In Milvess, it was customary to hang a hoop on chains over the bed and fasten the canopy to it. The vice-duchess found it foolish - too easy for an assassin to get close. She had brought back from Malersyde a familiar bed with a high headboard that curved over the headboard. Well, at least the woman was in her bed. That was good. Flessa glanced to her right, finding a tall window where the late autumn dawn was coloring the sky with every shade of dullness. The movement of her eyeballs triggered a mild bout of nausea that quickly subsided.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:18

She looked more daringly to her left, where something warm was warming her hand on top of the finest blanket of mountain goat down. She found a cap of dark hair, which did not look like a man's, and with a beautiful hairpin in the disheveled strands. The expensive silver trinket was familiar, and the heiress had thrown it on the table in advance, expecting to "reward" the medicine woman for her efforts. If, of course, the effort turned out to be worth it. Apparently, the art was worth the reward. If there was anything left in her memory... On the other hand, if she liked it, she could do it again.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:27

Gritting her teeth, Flessa moved herself into a sitting position. She took a sip of apple juice from a clear goblet with threads of blue, yellow, and brown glass. A light spell kept the drink cool, and her body felt better immediately, but her head still ached with the unpleasant thought that she shouldn't get so drunk. And there had to be a reason for it.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:31

Flessa thought about putting on a robe, but she had to bend over for it, as she did for the other clothes scattered all over the vice duchess's chambers. And the head urged that it was better to keep straight, avoiding bending and sudden movements. One could have called for "body servants." [3] but ... she didn't want to.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:31

She stood up, nearly losing her balance. A bout of headache touched her temples reproachfully. The heiress strode barefoot across the waxed parquet floor, past the weapons rack, the tall bookshelves, the heavy drapes covering the windows. The bottle of elixir was in its place, in an inconspicuous drawer disguised as a carved panel. Flessa looked back at the sleeping girl, who from across the hall seemed like a doll wrapped in expensive sheets. She was asleep... Though she shouldn't have used the hiding place so obviously... but whatever, that was something to worry about afterwards.

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 20:28

The sip sent a wave of invigorating warmth through her body, almost immediately hitting her skull from the inside with a fist of painful heat. Flessa clenched her eyes shut, waiting out the first, harshest attack. And relief came. She would have to pay for it with an annoying stabbing in her right side, under her ribs, that would last longer than a day, but the bodily weakness and hangover would be gone in less than half an hour.

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 20:30

Everything is fine. Everything is wonderful. Despite the daylight hours, the house was silent, protecting the peace of her mistress. But why did it feel as if something had gone wrong? Where is the happiness and pleasant satisfaction of the party?

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 20:31

The woman walked to the window, which was three-quarters closed with a curtain. Warm air wafted from the well-warmed ductwork, pleasantly stroking her body. In contrast to the warmth, a dank chill oozed from the door to the small balcony, which offered a picturesque view of the main gate and the small park. The traces of the festivities had already vanished without a trace, thanks to the efforts of the faithful and quiet servants. The heiress took a quick glance at herself in the rostral mirror, frowning at her swollen face and disheveled hair, but not without pleasure, noting that the night had definitely been a success. The traces of other people's kisses indicated a marvelous ardor and astonished her by their original arrangement, testifying to the rich imagination of the person who had kissed her.

Camrad_RIP 08.11.23 в 20:32

Balcony. Open door.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:28

Flessa felt her body spring up on its own, obeying instinct. An open balcony was the way to go for an assassin! A moment later, she relaxed, taking a deep breath. No, if the killer had gotten in during the night, she wouldn't have woken up. But someone had opened the door, hadn't they? Or had they forgotten to close it after admiring the magical fireworks?

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:29

"So," the woman said aloud, ruffling the remnants of her exquisite haircut.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:04

As the elixir cleared the mind, memories crystallized out of the hangover muddle, stumbling to line up, one by one. So, everything started fine. And then it got even better.

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:04

And what happened next?

Camrad_RIP 03.11.23 в 14:03

"So..." repeated Flessa in a complex mixture of confusion and some confusion.

Camrad_RIP 07.11.23 в 18:28