Ойкумена / Oikumena: Глава 25

Chapter 25 Time to kill

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:46

* * *

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:46

Elena felt like a numb limb. Everything seemed to be in place, but at the same time, the body felt so foreign. Her nerves were frayed, her senses dulled, but the blood was already flowing through her veins, promising a searing pain in the near future. And the soul is not her own either, like a crappy prosthesis that hurts by mere existence. The woman ran and ran, trying not to think, not to remember, not to live consciously here, now, just to delay the crushing realization for a few more minutes.

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:48

All is lost. Everything!

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:50

Elena more or less regained consciousness by the river, near the tunnel to the other side. She barely remembered how Mourier had thrown her out of the gate, shoving the money pouch at her. The purse was still clutched in her hand, and Elena hung it from her belt next to the pouch for her flame thrower and spoon. Already more or less sensibly, she went down underground.

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:56

So, she's been discovered! Despite the paint and running halfway across the continent. Fantastic bad luck... or was it fate? And, of course, talkativeness! What was the point of keeping silent when you saw a familiar face in a portrait? Take your time, and weigh everything. Just keep silent, don't rush to talk right away. It wouldn't have changed anything fundamentally, but it would have given her time to think of something.

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:57

And here she runs again, having lost everything!

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:57

No, not everything, in many ways. From some possessions to the very tangible responsibility for the people closest to her. Running her hand over her belt, Elena cursed briefly and harshly. Of course, she'd left her saber at Flessa's... She'd taken it off her belt before she'd snuggled on the couch in the dressing room, then forgotten about it. That's what it means to be unaccustomed to weapons. And the hatchet stayed in the house. Draftsman, despite all the nastiness and squabbling, was right. The apprentice still had a lot to learn!

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 15:43

So what do we do?

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 15:43

Elena sighed as she stepped out at the opposite end, smelling the fumes in the air. It had been colder the last couple of days, and Milvess was burning slate and coal as if the inhabitants were in a hurry to keep warm. Carts and wheelbarrows of fuel ran around the city almost around the clock, though the heat trade was technically a "pre-dawn trade," like milkmen or bakers.

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 15:49

What to do... What to do now...

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 15:49

Without slowing her step, she took a quick inventory of the possessions she carried. Clothing, an everyday set of household possessions like a neckerchief and a spoon, a knife in a codpiece, an ordinary knife... A shop letter, some money of her own, plus a Mourier purse. Damn it, she'd taken the money from Rodent, after all, truly a fate to be reckoned with! What did Flessa say? It's time before sundown, but can you believe it? Where will the Duchess's thoughts and desires turn? Won't she change her mind, or hasn't she changed her mind already?

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 15:52

Elena bit the skin on her palm to hold back a sob. She couldn't sniffle, couldn't sob, couldn't show weakness. She was racing against death again, and weakness kills. No one to help, no one to ask for help. There's only hope for herself. Move, warm, think! Figueredo the Draftsman? Probably not, the old man can't help. The house? That's where you can't go, but you should warn Baala and get your things. Elena can leave the city through the eastern gate by sundown. Prison? No way. Although on the other hand, why not... The healer didn't break any laws, and she is "their" for the law enforcement system, even partially. But on the other hand, how will the executioners and jailers help her? How will they protect her from her enemies, how will they explain her appearance, escape, and other troubles? No, not an option either.

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 15:56

The woman did not engage in a protracted dialog with herself. She simply decided and proceeded. She tucked her cap tightly over her head and pulled her cloak tighter, hiding her face in the shadows between the collar and the visor. If they didn't look closely in the gray autumn-winter sun, she could easily pass for a young man in a hurry.

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 15:59

The city was no longer seething but frozen in a daze, ready to burst into a bloody riot as well as to dissipate into a pool of drunken revelry. Elena's eyes, trained by her time with Badas's boys, noted the unusual absence of petty criminals on the streets. Almost all of the "cool guys," conspicuously dressed, with characteristic behavior, disappeared somewhere as if they were gaining strength for future exploits. And there were almost no guards. Both law and crime had simultaneously left the streets, leaving the townspeople alone with anxious expectations. But all the squads, both shop and artisan, came out "armed and armored," not fighting for the sake of fighting but demonstrating their numbers and strength.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:18

Everyone was waiting. The city waited, like a single creature that felt with hundreds of thousands of bristles the approach of a storm, preparing for something without even realizing it. And Elena did not want to see what the expected storm would be. Well, an excuse to get out of town. If you tried hard enough, you could even try to convince yourself that this was her decision, not a forced, hasty escape.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:19

The Brethers were gone, completely gone. Elena noticed that, too when she entered the street of the Free Blades. She tried not to go into the part where schools and headquarters of fencing fraternities were located so as not to get into trouble, but there were always enough students loitering around. Not today, as if there was a mobilization of all paid assassins.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:28

//"Don't think, don't think about anything. Live in small steps. Walking through the back alleys, the first step. Getting home is the second. Nothing else."

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 12:02

Long ago, in Grandpa's library, little Lena had read an old classic fantasy by a long-forgotten author. Only one moment remained in her memory - the sorcerer had plunged a ghostly dagger into the protagonist's heart, which was supposed to materialize either at a certain time or when it hit a zone with a high concentration of mana. And now Elena felt like that character as if the faceted blade was already lodged under her chest and trembling on the verge of murderous materialization.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:29

//"I won't think about it. I'll die if I do."

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 12:03

Women and children shied away from her, and men gave way or moved their daggers in scabbards and batons on belt loops into plain view. Even when the woman turned into the labyrinth of back alleys and alleyways, intending to take the long and inconspicuous way out to the back of the house, no one rushed to rob or even mock her.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 12:04

It took some art to get through the hidden undercroft with the dislodged bricks at the base of the wall. The bushes and vines were winter-dry, clinging to her clothes like dead men's fingers in a graveyard. She had to take off her cloak, roll it up, and push it forward first, and then crawl herself. It seemed to Elena the noise and sniffing was heard by the river itself, though in reality, it was quick and quiet, though with scratches. Squatting on the inside of the fence, the woman threw her soiled cloak back on and listened.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:30

Quiet. It's too quiet for a house with five people, including a child who wasn't the friendliest and most open but still a child. Looking up at the blind, windowless wall - there were none in this part of the house. Elena's ears perked up. A cart rumbled down the street, a risky merchant offering cabbages without fear of being looted. In the distance, a bell was ringing, oddly enough, as if it were not yet time for prayers. Somewhere off to the side, a couple of fences away, a loud oven was being cleaned with the characteristic scraping of a dustpan. The street lived an ordinary, albeit muted, life. But the house was quiet as if it had died out. Had everyone left? Or had they lurked, waiting?

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:50

Elena walked quietly to the back door and pressed her ear against the stubby boards. Nothing again, just a hum, probably not from outside, but from the blood beating in her head. But where her hearing was powerless, her sense of smell said it all. Elena breathed in the smell of the prison that seeped through the cracks, familiar, acustomed, laid like strokes on a painting, on top of the general background of recently spilled blood. She pressed her forehead against the boards, feeling the cold, and bit her lip so that a warm trickle slid down her chin.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:54

She is late.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:55

What could have happened? Flessa changed her mind and sent the hunters? Too fast, but possible. Bandits and robbers? Too brazen, especially in the daytime, even as the fall sun was setting and anarchy was setting in. Badas's boys decided to settle a score and take revenge on the dwarf, unable to get their hands on a healer protected by the sympathy of a noblewoman? So Baala had enough patrons of high flights and ranks.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 10:56

Whatever had happened, it had already happened, and there was only one way to go: run. To crawl back, hide in the web of streets, and leave Milvess before sunset. Not to tempt fate, which had already twice in one day taken away the gaze of death.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:14

Yes, that's the way to do it!

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:14

The back door was unlocked. No one knew about it. Elena drew her knife and slipped the noose over the fingers of her left hand, just as Figueredo had taught her. With her right hand, very quietly, literally by millimeters, she squeezed the handle, feeling the flakes of either rust or wet patina stain her palm. No hinges creaked, no boards rattled. The house accepted her quietly, imperceptibly, like a silent ally.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:15

It was dark inside. Almost all the shutters were closed, and the candles were burned out. It smelled of fresh bread and last night's chicken. And blood and urine. Fear, pain, agonizing death. Elena closed her eyes and listened again, forbidding herself to even think about what could have happened here. No thoughts. She is now like the sea like the blue sky - the wind blows, the waves diverge wrinkles on the mirror of the water's surface, and the clouds run against each other. The wind subsides, and everything calms down. She is only a reflection in a mirror that is devoid of thoughts. Otherwise, madness would knock in the attic under the vaults of her skull.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:18

Three. Elena heard three. All are on the third floor and seem to be gutting the guest room. Her room. Trying not to make any noise, but they're looking hard for nooks and crannies, hiding places with silver. The first floor has been turned upside down very efficiently, like a good detective or a professional thief. Almost nothing was smashed in the blind destruction, but they checked everything that could hide anything of value. That didn't sound like soldiers. Is it really the "patrons" who gave permission, saying it is possible?

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:20

There was little hope, in fact, none at all, but still, Elena hoped desperately. Maybe it wasn't all of them. Maybe there was someone left. Maybe Baala had left the house. Maybe the girl had run off to play or at least managed to hide. Maybe... anything! Stepping as Draftsman had taught her, Elena walked down the dark corridor and looked into the kitchen, aka the dining room, the workshop, and whatever else was needed.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:41

They were here, all five of them, by the light of a single oil lamp. Flessa's guards had been taken out, apparently quickly and cleanly, stabbed with a blade too narrow for soldiers' swords and ordinary cleavers. Strangely and surprisingly, the Mourier fighters had clearly died in the fight, one leaving marks on the hand he had used to try to fend off blows, hoping for a steel gauntlet. Another had been stabbed in the leg before being stabbed in the heart, so much so that the bone was visible. But the faces were not stamped with pain, fear, or any of the other concomitants of untimely death. Rather, they were peaceful, like people who had done a hard but worthy job and had laid down to rest. The dead were completely stripped, but posthumously, not even their undergarments were left behind. And then Elena allowed herself to see, or rather, to realize that she was seeing Baala and Kid. Not under the table, but on it, among the blood-soaked ropes.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:43

Elena leaned against the time-darkened jamb and closed her eyes, feeling a hot, bitter lump stick in her throat. Fiercely, she cursed her job. Without prison experience, the woman could be satisfied with knowing that the dwarf and the girl had simply died badly, horribly, as a human being should not die. But as an experienced master, she exhaustively realized how badly, and most importantly - how long the dying hours of the unfortunate ones dragged on. She also understood perfectly well that an ordinary person could not tolerate such a thing and told everything quickly. So this was not an interrogation but torture for pleasure, very long and extremely inventive.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:52

And in those moments, Elena remembered her vision from a year ago, the one she'd had after Draftsman had broken his apprentice's arm. In which the failed swordswoman had been burned by an endless, all-consuming rage. Rage and a desire to kill. Who could tell that night that the maimed girl had once again seen a piece of what was to come? Only this time, the vision did not deceive her, and everything she had seen had actually happened.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:53

Run. Only run! You can't mess with someone who can put down three experienced warriors, and there must be sorcery involved. And Elena knew exactly who could both sorcery and kill with a sharp stabbing blade. Only death awaited ahead, and most likely something many times worse. Behind, a dig not found by the enemy and life. That was what reason said, and its arguments were logical, fair, and only true. But at that hour, the voice of reason had no place in Elena's soul.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:54

She was already experiencing real fear. She felt the pain of real loss. She plunged into the abyss of despair. And now Elena knew a new, all-consuming feeling that had no place in her soul before. Not even when Shena had died, Draftsman had deceived and crippled his apprentice.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:56

It was hatred. Boundless, icy, killing everything with its black breath, even the fear of death.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:56

Elena quietly removed her cloak and wrapped her left blade-armed arm, leaving about two elbows of cloth hanging loosely. The islander's boarding axe remained upstairs and had probably already changed owners, but the woman looked around and found a hammer. It was the hammer she had taken from the second floor a year ago, on Kid's advice, to make it easier to pound on Drafsman's door. Baala, noticing the tool, was sad at first, probably remembering her husband, but then she adapted it to the usual household activities and left it in the kitchen. Somewhere upstairs, on an abandoned workbench, there were nails, too.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:59

There is a time to sow, and there is a time to reap.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:46

It is a good hammer on a long, strong handle, burnt for strength. The blade is hexagonal, and the toe is sharpened. The wood is cleaved in the eyelet with a silver coin - for good luck and long service of the tool, an old tradition of carpenters and joiners. It's a solid thing made by the strong hands of a master. And surprisingly similar to a weapon, since the battle axes - unless we are talking about two-handed monsters - are also made light and unfurling.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 12:02

There is a time to run without looking back and a time to stop.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:47

Elena weighed the hammer and took a test swing, assessing how it lay in her hand. It felt good and secure. She shuddered. For a moment it seemed to her the eerie, grave laughter of someone familiar was ringing in her ears. The aged, rattling laughter of someone who was having trouble breathing in. And a whisper penetrated through the laughter with a cold breeze: //"Death loves you."

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:45

No, it's just an imagination.

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:45

It's time to be afraid and...

Camrad_RIP 06.02.24 в 11:45

The woman inhaled and exhaled, stepped from foot to foot as if spinning a flywheel inside, dancing slightly in readiness to "breath her ass," as Figueredo had taught her. There was more murmuring upstairs, seemingly relaxed, unable to find the burials, and frustrated at sharing the meager booty.

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:53

//"Time to kill, fuckers. Time to kill," Elena thought and quietly stepped onto the first rung of the stairs leading under the roof.

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:52

* * *

Camrad_RIP 02.02.24 в 19:50

The Prince looked at the Duchess and skillfully concealed his anxiety.

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 15:59

In the morning, Flessa ausf Wartensleben seemed a little tired but vigorous and energetic. She was ready for accomplishments and impenetrable confidence both in herself and in the common cause. The Duchess juggled problems and decisions like an experienced circus performer. She did not hesitate to discard what could no longer be corrected and clung like a hyena to what could and should be changed. She threatened, persuaded, and gave out gold in strictly measured and immaculately exact proportions. The Prince had seen many high-born lords of the "flat earth" (as the only real people called all those who were not born under the pure sky of the middle mountains, the pillars of the world), but he could honestly admit to himself that few could act better. There was definitely a great future in store for this young woman.

Camrad_RIP 05.02.24 в 16:01