Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 15

Chapter 15 Once upon a time, there was a brether....

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 09:38

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Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 09:38

Elena looked at the water, and the reflection looked back at Elena, grim and displeased. The wooden basin warmed her hands through the thin boards. She didn't want to stick her face inside, and her eyes squinted on their own. She wanted very much to postpone it. Better yet, tomorrow. Or the day after tomorrow. To start a new life with a new day of work. Or even...

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 15:56

The woman cursed, exhaled sharply, and dove into the warm water. The first time it didn't work, her eyelids drooped like flaps on autonomous control, ignoring the orders of her brain. On the third time, Elena lost her breath, inhaled the water and nearly knocked over the vessel. Coughing, sniffling, she repeated, finally, with relative success. It didn't hurt, but it was unpleasant, like chewing on a toothpick. Elena decided that it was enough for the first time, having reached a compromise between the realized necessity and the feeling of natural laziness. Enough for today, but tomorrow she would have to do more.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 15:59

It's gonna be a good day. Definitely a good day.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 18:18

Old people were grousing a lot this fall, saying that all was not good. When the calendar says it's frost time, but you can walk down the street without a raincoat, and the "summer" fish still haven't left the sea, having gone into the depths of the ocean - a bad omen. However, old people are always grouchy, and signs of fate can be looked for in everything! So, the honest inhabitants of the City tried not to think about bad things and rejoice in good things. Because to whom is a sign, and to whom is the grace of Pantocrator. If only the price of bread were lowered...

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 18:44

Elena had been living in Milvessa for a year already. She hadn't become an experienced, savvy citizen yet, but she could already feel the "nerve" of the capital. And she did not like the unrestrained fun that covered Milvess in the approaching autumnal equinox. Carnivals. Shop and quarterly; theatrical skits; merry brawls street to street, shop to shop, shore to shore; distributions of provisions from guild elders. Wedding Series. It's a good time when coffers are full, and it's clear we'll live until spring. Illusions by the magic guild, usually inconspicuous and stingy on spectacle. Memorial processions with skulls of noble ancestors, more like African funerals. All this was a whirlpool of colors and fun, coloring Milvess with the lights of fireworks and festivities.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 19:24

And yet...

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 19:24

There was something wrong with the carnival kaleidoscope. Something unhealthy, artificial. As if half a million citizens in the largest city in the known world weren't so much enjoying life as trying to forget themselves in a frenzy of sex-drive-rock-and-roll. And Elena couldn't understand what it was that scratched her soul so much.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 19:27

This morning had started particularly well, though. So she didn't want to think about bad things. Usually, Elena and Baala didn't see each other very often, the medicine woman working during the day and the dwarf courtesan resting, and vice versa. But Memorial Day was approaching, one of the few holidays when almost all work in the City was not only restricted but forbidden. Only trade was allowed, and not all of it. For example, jewelers could sell their goods, but shoemakers could not because of their centuries-old privileges. There were no alarm clocks with ratchets in the streets, nor did the sidewalks resonate with the clatter of wooden shoes from the footsteps of thousands of workers. The city was frozen in its morning slumber as if all time belonged to it entirely. Only very young apprentices were rushing to distribute the night-baked bread and other snacks. Even the street vendors were taking their time to pull out their boxes and roll out their carts in preparation for the evening harvest when tens of thousands of townspeople would want to fill their stomachs with food and their belt bags with trinkets.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 09:27

And for once, all the people of the house were together. For breakfast, Baala made a soup of late-season greens that should have been off the shelves for a month, but thanks to the warmth, the city's vegetable gardens were still producing edible flora, and the marsh reeds were not going dry. Two eggs and a solid piece of pigskin were added to the chowder for extra richness. The three women - the eldest, the middle, and the youngest - passed each other a mug with sour cream for the soup, made like an ordinary barrel but held together not by hoops but by the vine of the olive tree, a local variety of olive trees.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 09:29

In her former life, Elena had hated eggs, especially hard-boiled eggs, the mere smell of them making her sick. But now the woman had not only widened her horizons of food tolerance, but had also become imbued with the continent-wide cult of fat, everything from butter to lard and grease. Greasy skins, eggs, these had all been unpalatable foods before, but now they were energy, precious calories that possessed the flavor of life. So the wooden spoon cheerfully scooped up the green concoction, thickly flavored with good sour cream.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 09:30

Nibbling on a piece of hide, Elena thought again about what the Ecumene was. Like - why its nature was so incongruous with the human community. The continent had the standard "common European" set of domesticated animals, except dogs, which had died out four centuries ago. A few wild animals that strongly resembled feral and mutated Earth counterparts. Quite a bit of bird life, fish that seemed stuck at the shell stage. And... that's about it. It was as if humans had once come to a young world where life had recently stepped onto land and had populated it with fauna brought with them, which had quickly adapted to the greenhouse conditions. But what kind of people were they? And how long ago had the transition occurred, if indeed it had taken place?

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 09:40

A mystery.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 09:45

In any case, the aborigines were definitely not descendants of the Earthlings - the time did not match. If Сharley and the scraps of knowledge Lena collected on the road were to be believed, the Old Empire had existed for at least a thousand years with all the attributes of a developed feudal-magical state. That is, long before feudalism with knights and other tinsel was formed in the native universe. On the other hand, if we look at it from the Marxist's point of view, people could move even in the Stone Age and invent feudalism independently, according to the laws of the objective course of history. As for the scarcity of biomass, it could be impoverished in the course of exploitation, as, for example, the once vast forests, which are almost absent in the world, from which the shipbuilders and, first of all, the Island with its huge fleet suffered.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:10

Baala placed a wooden plate of fresh bread on the table. Elena inhaled the stupefying smell, and philosophical musings were blown out of her head. The round loaf of "gray" bread had the traditional shape of two flatbreads, laid one on top of the other with eight deep radial indentations. Such bread could be broken both lengthwise and crosswise without a knife. On one of the segments, the hard crust had a seal imprint guaranteeing the quality of the baking work [1].

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:11

The spoons scraped faster across the bottom of the bowls, eliminating the rest of the soup. Baala broke off a slice of bread for each of her companions, poured sour cream over it, and sprinkled it with a mixture of salt and dried herbs like parsley. What was almost non-existent in the Ecumene (and from what Elena suffered to this day) was spices. No saffron or other nutmeg. There was some analog of pepper, but it cost such an insane amount of money that it seemed to be not used for food, serving as vegetable gold. It was compensated for to some extent by a rich array of herbs, but Elena was still suffering without a pepperpot.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:12

The diners munched into the bread, which by itself tasted divine and freshly baked, and with the salted sour cream was the food of the gods. After breakfast, Baala put the loaf away until evening, and the elders talked a little about life with a lazy leisureliness, like people who generally have nowhere to hurry. Baala shared the latest news, or rather gossip, circulating among the merchants and other privileged people. Elena hadn't heard anything new except for the fear of money. They said that the coin was getting lighter and lighter. Then, the rumor bifurcated. One branch had a clear apocalyptic tinge and attributed to the young emperor the intention to introduce copper and bronze into circulation. The other promised the imminent arrival of a silver caravan from the western lands so there would be enough metal to mint into a coin.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:27

In any case, the city's public was clearly and palpably nervous. The issue of " light", i.e. worn out and cut-off money has always been acute, and now it is even more acute thanks to the new round of bread prices. Neither Elena nor Baal had been affected by it yet, nevertheless, general problems always become private sooner or later.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:29

After a long breakfast, Elena wanted more than anything to crawl upstairs and snooze until noon, maybe even longer. Tomorrow was free, too, the only time in the year when two off days were in a row, as in a normal five-day week. However, it occurred to the woman that there was no special arrangement with Draftsman, which meant that today was a normal training day. Of course, one could always refer to...

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:35

There was a tingle under her ribs, exactly where the soldier's blade had been aimed yesterday. It tingled as if a higher power had reminded her of the happy parting of ways with death. This unpleasant feeling completely blew out all desire to doze off. Elena drank a mug of tea-like concoction and played a little with the landlady's daughter, spinning a wooden spinner made in the form of a conical pyramid with a rope. Then the woman had a fit of inspiration and, taking an old rural work calendar [2], made a paper airplane, crooked, oblique, but flying. Kid's delight was unbounded, and it became clear that by evening every child on the street would have a new toy, and in a week - and in the city. Elena, smiling, went to pack.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:37

As she assessed the richness of her closet, she remembered the classic quote from "Tom Sawyer" about "that other suit." She counted her savings, thinking about buying new shoes, a winter hat, a warm coat, and a couple of little things like socks and windbreakers. She debated whether to hang a kriegmesser on her belt. She thought, why not, but then the voice of reason told her that it was a little early to show everyone that she was ready to fight at any moment. Elena wrapped the blade in a clean cloth and checked the usual knife, which she never parted with.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:42

Well, that's it...

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 10:37

Baala's house was three stories high and well-built. Good brick, quality shingles, not lead, but they didn't leak in the rain. Wooden stairs and ceilings were made before the general shortage of lumber. It was possible to make a good living by dividing the rooms into separate cubicles and renting them out to at least a dozen families. But for some reason, Baala preferred to live alone, making an exception only for the strange woman who had shown up on her doorstep on an autumn night a year ago.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:20

The first floor was inhabited by the dwarf and her daughter, the third by Elena, and the attic and the middle floor were uninhabited. It was filled with dust, cobwebs, scattered tools, and furniture of various degrees of readiness, as in the shop of a carpenter or a mad junk dealer. The furniture, by the way, was very good; I suppose the late father of the family had been a cabinetmaker. Elena suspected that the dwarf had not recovered her soul after her husband's death and tried not to touch the fragments of her old life, preserving it as much as she could. It was as if she was trying to keep the spirit of the deceased in a dusty maze of unfinished cabinets and varnished boards. Baala never mentioned a past life, and Elena didn't ask. The household was taken care of by an attendant, a young widow with three children, whose name she couldn't remember.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:22

The house had a back door, a small abandoned garden, a high wall, and three entrances: the front one (where Elena had fallen through in the past), a wicket on the opposite side (never opened, so the bolts and hinges were rusted shut). And then there was a small crawlway that only Kid used. A few bricks at the base of the wall had been removed and braided with vines so it was impossible to find it without knowing about the passage. The little girl had once shown the secret passage to an older friend. Elena remembered.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:23

She stepped out into the sun, adjusting her cap. It was warm. Just wonderfully warm and good. She didn't feel like diving into the fencer's gloomy hole. But she would have to.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:22

Today, Draftsman seemed particularly malicious and nasty. He didn't even grind his words through his teeth, but almost without parting his lips. He'd skimped on something new, making Elena repeat the basic steps of the stipulations over and over again. No one mentioned the duel as if it had never happened. The woman was doing her best, thinking about the fact that rumors were spreading fast. So far, she had been ignored, but when word reached the Brether apprentices that the once glorious Figueredo's apprentice was worth something, sooner or later, it would not be a soldier with an infantry blade waiting at the door, but someone more skillful. So every step done right lengthens life.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:25

Elena waved the training blade, Figueredo harmed, the minutes ticked by. Draftsman looked even worse than before. He was sweating all the time and often drank from a large mug. Elena immediately recognized the smell as an infusion for stomach pains. In general, the symptoms, including painful exhaustion, pointed to tuberculosis or cancer. But the cough was not bloody. Besides, a coughing man should have a special blush, and the fencer's face was getting paler every day. So, most likely, Draftsman was eaten from inside by a tumor.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:27

"That's enough," the mentor ordered. "Are you practicing with water?"

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:27

"Yes," the student answered honestly.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:27

After all, she had indeed been practicing her gaze. And the fact that it wasn't too long was a nuance.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:32

"Is it hard?" Draftsman asked curtly.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:32

"Yes."

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:32

"That's good. When you can keep from blinking, make it harder."

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:33

"How?"

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:33

"Hit the water with the palm of your hand. The task is the same - don't blink. It's harder that way. You never know if the drops will splash in your eyes this time or not."

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:34

"Got it."

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:34

Draftsman paused to retrieve a jug of hardened wine from under the bed. Apparently, the decoction wasn't working, so the craftsman diluted it generously with cheap alcohol. The wine worked better and faster than the medicine, and the master became a little cheerful, or rather, lost some of his natural quarrelsomeness. So much so that he showed the new technique in a rather peaceful manner.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:35

Figueredo had taught Elena little in the way of wrestling, reasoning that once a girl got into a close fight unarmed, nothing would help her. But he had taught her a few simple things, such as releasing her from simple grapples or chokes (for which the night bandits of Milvess were famous). Today, Draftsman gave a lecture on the position of unarmed hands in anticipation of combat and surprise attacks.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:36

"Palms in a brace, fingers on fingers, stiff. Position at the solar plexus, elbows to the sides."

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:37

A few more sips brought Draftsman to an almost benign state of mind. Elena felt uncomfortable. It was the first time she'd ever seen a drunken master, and experience had shown her that you could expect anything from drunken people.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:37

"It looks harmless and weak, and the movement turns out to be equally short and fast in either direction."

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:38

Draftsman, though tipsy, had not lost any of his skills, his movements remained precise, his explanations laconic and clear.

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:39

"You can block the blow, you can sidestep it. You can protect your head. Or you can strike."

Camrad_RIP 27.11.23 в 11:40

Figueredo moved. Elena only felt a jolt of air, and then she realized that the master had demonstrated a blow with a hard "brace" to the neck from the front to the place where a man's caddy was. And it was very fast indeed.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 09:45

"It won't kill, but it will greatly upset the enemy. Could save a life."

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 09:44

Elena practiced her movements for another half an hour or so, practicing at the felt-wrapped pole and then deflecting the lunges of Draftsman, who was armed with a stick with a rag head. At last, the fencer finished and wandered unsteadily to the corner, to the bedstead, where he sat down as if he had been cut down. The draughtsman was getting tipsy as the wine went into his bloodstream. Elena lowered her hands, realizing the lesson was over for the day.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 09:42

"Leave the sword," Draftsman mumbled, dropping his chin to his chest.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 09:40

"Thank you," Elena thought maybe she should express her gratitude more visibly.

Camrad_RIP 26.11.23 в 09:39