Готовый перевод История Королевы Эльфов / The story of the Elf Queen: Интерлюдия вторая. Тяготы и заботы Архиврага Героя Королевы Эльфов.

Interlude Two. The Hardships and Concerns of the Arkhnemesis of the Hero of the Elven Queen.

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"Well, if not a queen, then at least a princess!"

"I told you, no!"

"Oh, please!"

"I swear to you, you lowlife! Leave me alone! Or I swear by all the gods, by those who are their equal and superior, I will make you regret that your mother spread her legs before your father!"

"At least a couple dozen catgirls! Or even a few catboys, but cute and feminine!"

"Oh, Almighty, who gave me strength! Get lost!"

But the fat and far from pleasant-looking young man paid no attention to the threats and demands to get away, continuing to whine, beg, plead, ask, and whine again. From his initial request for help in making the Queen of the Forest his concubine, he moved on first to her daughters, then to simple, as far as the word applied to them, elven women, and then to cat-like beast folk. There was no way to get rid of this pain in the ass. The fat man ignored all the threats, ignored the warnings, and continued to nag and beg, driving Master to a frenzy.

Even more annoying and disgusting was the fact that at the mere sight of the damned fatty whiner, there was a strange and very unpleasant sensation. As if you were looking at a horribly distorted reflection of yourself in a crooked mirror. This made it triply disgusting, and even more strongly wanted to either kill or drive away the insolent man. But there was no way to do it. The fat man paid no attention to his threats, and he dodged the attempts to hit him with his new staff-cane, despite his deceptive sluggishness. The faithful Basita and Saya ran away in terror at the mere sight of this whiner, begging the lord in two voices to keep THIS away from them. It was unthinkable for the dolls, who were completely submissive to his will. That made them even angrier.

When Master's patience was almost at an end, and he was ready to unleash fire and lightning on the greaseball begging for a couple of furry kitties, help came from wherever and from whomever he was not expecting. By some miracle, Master missed the appearance of two men in strange armor. One of the sudden guests was a man of sturdy build, with a masculine and strong-willed face, a bare head, a military bearing, and a stern look in his gray eyes. He literally reeked of strength, fortitude, and determination. One look was enough to know that he was a warrior. No, not like that. A WARRIOR! He was strong and strong enough to make one wary. But as soon as Master looked at his companion, he forgot everything for a moment.

Clad in the same strange armor, with straight, shoulder-length deep red hair and bright green eyes on a beautiful freckled face. A stern and strict face, but at the same time quite beautiful and attractive. Just looking at her took his breath away. What a magnificent material! What a masterpiece it could be! She was as strong as the man, but a little different. She seemed to be composed of both physical strength and power remotely similar to magic. A very strange shade, one he had never seen before. She was a warrior, too, but she relied not only on weapons, speed, strength, reaction, and stamina but also on otherworldly powers beyond the control of mere mortals.

Such a rare and beautiful combination! Complemented, moreover, by a splendidly trained body, whose forms could not hide even the strange-looking armor. However, one fact was alarming. There was a very strange feeling when looking at the guests who had appeared. It was as if they were one and yet different. Not twins, not brother and sister, but as if they were one and the same person. But at the same time, they were clearly two different people. How interesting... But Master had no time to realize this strangeness of the guests, nor to admire the potential candidate for the inadmissibly reduced harem, as the beautiful warrior disappeared. As soon as she appeared with her companion, she saw the fat, sniveling man who had been annoying Master.

Her beautiful face immediately contorted with horror and disgust, and then she raised her palms in front of her and shouted, “No fucking way I'm gona deal with THIS shite!!!!” A second later, the warrior's body was enveloped in a purple haze, and in one swift dash, she was swept somewhere far back. “Biotic jerk” came the realization of this ability from somewhere. What this “biotic” was Master did not have time to realize. The warrior's companion sighed and shrugged. He approached the fat man still whining and demanding a harem of catgirls. Grabbing him by the scruff of the neck, the warrior nodded briefly to Master and uttered an equally incomprehensible “I should go”

Before he could ask him anything, the stern warrior raised his free hand and shot into the sky, leaving a rainbow trail behind him. In which, for some reason, only three colors prevailed. Green, red, and blue. But Master paid almost no attention to it. Because, with his mouth open in horror, he looked at what was floating in the sky above him. The huge creature resembled the monstrous spawn of the Lord of the Depths in appearance, with an elongated body and multiple relatively short legs. Only its flesh was metal, and its eyes burned with fire. And it reeked of power. No, it didn't. POWER! But in addition to the sheer power, the Master sensed something else. A WILL! Unstoppable, unstoppable, and indestructible. A will that could subjugate the mind of any rudimentary creature of flesh and blood. Not immediately, and not even overnight, but with absolute assurance. Deceptively soft and invisible, it could not break even a mere man overnight. But give it time, and any man or non-human, no matter how resilient and well-protected, would fall under the influence of the monster floating in the sky. He would submit to its will without even noticing it. Any wish of the new lord will seem logical, correct, and justified. And unobjectionable.

From such a sight, Master couldn't help but feel a respectful awe. He wondered, what was the principle behind its power? Was it innate, acquired, or was it some kind of artifact? But before he could ponder this, the creature let out a deafening roar. Its voice was most definitely inanimate. “Mechanical” came to mind as soon as Master heard it. But at the same time, what was even more surprising was that the creature's voice was full of literal universal outrage. What the monster said to the warrior still holding the fat man by the scruff of his neck Master did not understand. But the fact that the monster began to fly further into the sky, panicking with its paws, spoke a lot. As did the fact that the warrior was rapidly catching up with him, leaving behind him the same three-colored plume. What the...

Master didn't have time to finish his thought, as he lowered his eyes and was horrified to find himself on top of a huge black mountain. It was surrounded on all sides by demons of varying degrees of strength, incarnated in the real world. As well as countless possessed, defiled, corrupted, and other infernal filth. They were everywhere, climbing up the slopes, circling in flocks in the air, at least they were not coming from under the ground, thanks to the black mountain. Damn it, what the hell is this?! Grabbing his staff-cane, Master instantly went into a fighting state, pushing his mind to the limit. Time slowed to a crawl, and he began to save his most precious possession with feverish speed. Himself. A cascade of instructions to Basita and Sae, who had inexplicably returned, was combined with the creation of several branching and complex weaves. A protective one, to cut off attempts to defame or confuse the mind, to give bodies extra speed and strength, to deflect enemy blows. Searching, to identify the leaders of the infernal army, directing the lower demons and their puppets into battle, and finding those who try to hide from the gaze of ordinary and magical, preparing to strike a sneaky blow in the back. And an attacker, designed to strike at the bodies and minds of enemies, able to pit them against each other or at least take them out of the fight for a while. Damn, how many of these things are there!

Fortunately, Master was not alone. A little away from him, on the top of the mountain, there was a young half-elf dressed in a luxurious silver-green robe, obviously of elven make. He had blond hair, gathered in a lush ponytail, and blue eyes glowing with magical fire. In his hands, he held a full-fledged staff made of light wood, a golden headband on his head glittered with gems, and his index fingers studded with large gemstone rings. Something vaguely familiar about his appearance made him wary and tense. And Master, who had dealt with firstborns and their mixtures more than once, sensed something wrong in this half-breed. Something false. Maybe a quadroon trying to enhance his affinity for elf blood with life magic? It didn't matter! What mattered was that his magic power was impressive, as well as the speed of forming weaves that were as complex as his own.

The half-elf struck the top of the mountain with his staff, and in an instant, he drew a complex ritual circle on the rocks, which strengthened his magic many times over. At the same time, he was protected from demon attacks by several barriers that were an organic part of the circle. And not just him. Behind the misshapen half-breed could be seen a white-haired elven woman, dressed as a combat sorceress and holding a shining wand in her hands. The presence of the firstborn made the Master wary again, but the white-haired one was completely absorbed in the battle and paid no attention to him. She was accompanied by a deceptively frail and blond girl in a black-and-white maid's dress. Which with a calm face was sending one throwing needle after another into the ranks of the infernal creatures. They flew with the speed of good arrows and hit the last of them exactly in the eye, or open mouth, almost instantly cutting off their existence by the magic and murderous alchemy invested in them. A little away from the irregular half-elf and the couple covering him was a red-haired and incredibly furry cat girl that had taken on a partially animal form and had grown very sharp claws that cut into the throats and bellies of the creatures climbing to the top. She, like the blond, wore a maid's dress. Or rather, the wretched scraps of it.

On the other side of the Master was another assistant in the fight against the infernal invaders. He was dressed in an exotic-looking costume of animal skins, decorated with feathers, ribbons, all kinds of beads, rosaries, and other small jewelry. In his hands, he held a tambourine with a hummer and... flew in circles around a wooden pole hammered directly into the top of the black mountain. Not too high and not too thick, but decorated with the same feathers, pins, bones, beads, shells, and who knows what else. He flew with funny intervals, due to sharp flaps of webbed wing, growing from his back right between his shoulder blades, and covered with feathers of different birds.

Shaman. It was a very strong and very skillful, with a numerous and diverse retinue that now invisibly circled around him, waiting for instructions and only partially manifested in the material world. The Master caught the singing of the steppe and polar winds, the murmur of the earth's bowels, the gurgling of stinking poisoned swamps, the murmuring of mountain spring streams, and the roar of mudflows sweeping away everything in their path, the scalding heat of the sun and the sweet smell of continuously rotting flesh. A very impressive set of contracts, which makes one feel respect for the obviously deceptively young man. And wariness, for in addition to the images of various intangible entities, Master sensed something else in the shaman. Something vaguely familiar. The same thing he sensed in the suspicious half-elf. It all combined to give him a bad feeling.

But those feelings faded into the background as the two unwilling companions, still fighting off the demons, began to whimper in two voices, like a fat man dragged into the sky. Only they weren't whining for Master to help them get the Queen of the Forest or her daughters into bed. They were whining that it was all his fault. That it's all because of him. And that they'd both never seen joint missions with his kind and would never sign up for such a thing again. This whining pissed Master off even more than the fat man's pleas. Because from somewhere came the absolute certainty that everything is exactly the opposite. It's all THEIR fault! What was going on around them was entirely their fault! The righteous indignation was so strong that Master couldn't stand it any longer, and let himself burst into a shout:

"Screw you both!!! What?"

When he opened his eyes, he stared at the ceiling of his bedroom for a few seconds. Basita stirred, stretched, raised herself on her elbow, and yawned sleepily, showing her neat fangs:

Сон

"Master? What..."

With a single mental command to silence the doll, Master sat up abruptly in bed, threw back the blanket, and closed his eyes, concentrating on the past dream. Long before Fate and Fortune had smiled upon him, while he was still studying under his first and long-deceased mentor, he had learned about such an incredibly complex area of magic as divination and prediction. The Master also learned about prophetic dreams, which could open the veil of the future. But then his mentor explained to him that for one really prophetic dream, there are a thousand, or even more, ordinary dreams. And among those that turn out to be true, part of it is necessarily false, portending a future obviously impossible. The remaining dreams may foretell not necessarily predestined future, but only possible. All these dreams must be correctly interpreted, as the images in the dream can mean the most different and sometimes not obvious.

He was not interested in that part of magic then. It was interesting to listen to his mentor. He carefully memorized everything he said but did not show any real interest in prediction and clairvoyance. He found this school of magic too difficult to master and unreliable. Much later, when Fate and Fortune had already shown their favor to him, and he began to gain true power, he was not attracted to all forms of clairvoyance either. He was much more interested in ways to counteract them. But to know how to protect yourself from the occasional or not-so-occasional seer or fortune-teller, you have to know what you're dealing with. So Master had some knowledge in this area. He had a general idea of how to distinguish an ordinary dream from an unusual one. Today's dream was very strange and it should be analyzed carefully. But as soon as Master tried to concentrate on it, he found with a slight surprise and even a touch of fear that the memory of the past dream was slipping away from him like sand through his fingers. He had! With his knowledge, skills, and talents! Accustomed to working with his mind and memory!

He concentrated even harder and put himself into a trance, but with great effort, Master managed to keep only a few fragments of the dream in his mind. The face of a beautiful but severe red-haired woman with bright green eyes and a scattering of freckles. A three-colored rainbow streaming into the sky. Someone's an incredibly annoying request to give a few catboys, but definitely cute and as feminine as possible. A fluffy redheaded catgirl in partially animal form and scraps of a maid's dress. Nothing else. Well. Exhaling slowly, Master carefully captured the pathetic scraps of images. So that's how it is. This was really interesting already. That he could simply forget his dream like that was something Master could only believe if someone of equal skill had instilled such a thought in him. So someone or something had tried to erase that memory.

Master's lips stretched into a wicked smile. It was a nice try that was bound to work against someone else, but he had a solid trump card just in case. He held out his hand, and a gold-ringed sphere of glass immediately fell into it, a thick mist swirling inside. In it, one could see faces and places. The greatest gift of the true Demiurges was the key that allowed him to acquire their even greater gift.

Over the past decades, he had mastered this masterpiece artifact perfectly, unlocking many of its properties. Including secret or rather unobvious. This artifact gave him the ability to steal memories, take impressions of them, alter them at will, bring them back, or destroy them completely. And, of course, to store them. And, as he'd learned in his time, it didn't just work with living people or non-humans. Things also remembered a lot, especially magical and old things. And they could tell a lot to someone who knew how to ask. But now Master was interested in the most obvious and clear property of the artifact.

For a long time now he had been in the habit of putting the artifact into passive mode before going to sleep so it would record his dreams. The vast majority of them were erased the next morning. Because the capacity of the artifact was huge, but not unlimited. But today was the rare case when over-insurance paid off. Focusing on the sphere, Master closed his eyes. For a moment, he couldn't believe what he saw. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Emptiness. The previous night had literally never happened. If the artifact was working, there was no doubt about it. Whoa. Now, this is...

Master's very bad suspicions were interrupted by a quiet knock at the door of the master's quarters he occupied in the house of the widowed Baroness de Kleban. He flinched in surprise but calmed down almost immediately when he sensed who was behind them. Saya. With a brief gesture and a mental command, the Master extinguished the protective charms, unlocking the lock. The door opened silently and then closed just as silently. A moment later, in front of the wide double bed, a slender tall female figure, draped in tight-fitting clothes and black silk, literally appeared out of nowhere. Master's newfound power was able to strengthen the former assassin of the Unseen Clan even further, synergizing with the hidden weave patterns adorning her body. Sai's agility, speed, and reactions increased even more, as did her ability to disguise, bypass, or breach defenses and cut off the lives of those unwanted by her master. Now his pretty slanted doll could walk naked through the streets of the Free City of Normgrave if she wanted to. And no one would pay any attention to her, even at point-blank range. To spot or find her would require very powerful search magic, and it would be desirable to know exactly where and who to look for. Better yet, a clue, like blood samples or casts of thin bodies. Except for the main temples of the city and the castle of the honorable Duke Darmond de Canion should be avoided. At least not without careful preparation.

At the thought of the latter, Master's mood immediately soured. With a brief nod to the doll, he asked impatiently:

"How'd it go?"

A satisfied smile appeared on the slanted face of the Oriental beauty:

"Perfect, Master. I have prepared everything as you requested. They are fully prepared and awaiting your instructions."

And after this news, Master's mood improved noticeably.

"Nice."

When he got out of bed, he didn't get dressed properly, just threw on a robe. The yawning Basita stood on tiptoe and stretched, almost reaching the ceiling with her fingertips, and put on only a thin dressing gown without buttoning it. It was not an ordinary shirt, but one that the Baroness's servants had made especially for her, as there were no other clothes in the house that fit the Orc woman. Like Saya, she too had received a new gift from her master. As a result, the green-skinned doll's musculature became even more embossed, as well as her ability to take a direct hit without any armor. It didn't matter if it was magical or physical. The Master had even ordered several of Baroness de Kleban's servants to try to injure the orc. They used kitchen cleavers, clubs, axes, knives, and full-fledged combat weapons that the Baroness' private guards had. It was all to no avail. At best, they managed to leave small cuts on Basita's body, which healed almost immediately. Even two quality battle magic wands of average power, infused with ordinary fire without any frills, only slightly smoked the orc. And she was the one who didn't even fight back and was, in fact, without any defense. Even the Raiders of the Ice Islands, whose bands were famous for their berserkers, who could take almost any blow with their bare bodies, would have envied such resilience.

But alas and alack, even wonderful dolls like Saya and Basita, with all their old and newfound power, couldn't save him in the current situation. He envisioned the possible failure of the plan to take over the Northern Theocracy. It would be incredibly foolish not to think through the possibility of such an outcome, and even more foolish not to prepare for it in any way. Master did not consider himself a fool and he had every reason to believe that his judgment of himself was not entirely unfounded. He was well prepared. His laboratory-shelter was securely hidden and equally secure. A veritable fortress, with several secret escape routes and a very toothy garrison of pupae. He had organized several other hideouts, caches, and secret lairs just in case. He created a few dupes in his blood that would distract the attention of those searching his trail if they had something in their hands that could lead them to him. Thought out how, in case of failure, to mop up most of the associates who knew too much, or might know too much. But he couldn't anticipate everything.

Apparently, Fate and Luck had decided to play a joke on him. After all, at the very moment when he needed to keep his hand on the pulse, closely monitor the operation, and be ready to intervene and react at any moment, his true goal had been achieved. So desired and so long pursued. At precisely such an inopportune moment. Yes, he should have waited a little longer. He should have delayed the 'acquisition', and waited for the success or failure of the Iyastar operation. But he couldn't resist. The temptation was too great. So many years, so much labor, and here it was, the greatest power of all, just reach out and take it. How could he resist?! He couldn't.

As a result, when everything went to hell because of the damned elves, instead of commanding his dolls, or supporting his companions in the First Temple, he was lying absolutely helpless on the magic bed. And it almost turned out to be a disaster. He had underestimated the Sharp-Eared. The elves managed to find his hideout and almost stormed it. He had to abandon all the reserves, all the dolls, including the best ones, just to escape. Not to retreat, but to escape, taking with them only a few crumbs of what they had gained, and the rest of it to burn. And it was hoped that most of what he had to give up had been destroyed in the alchemical flames, and not fallen into the hands of the elves. But even so, the most valuable thing he possessed had fallen into the hands of the elves. An otherworldly boy.

At the thought of him, the Master, as always, involuntarily grimaced. A wretch, utterly unworthy of the greatest gift, who had received it at the strange whim of a supreme being, and who had almost ruined him utterly and ungracefully. He should have given the dolls orders to kill him in case he was in danger of falling into the hands of his enemies. But it had seemed unnecessary to him before because he had rightly thought that in the last resort, he could retreat with him. But it turned out differently, Basita and Saya had barely pulled him out from under the blows of the elven stormtroopers. If they had dragged the boy they might not have made it to the evacuation hall. And in the end, the wretch fell into the hands of the elves. Of course, the sharp-eared quickly realized who he was, and then they realized what the secret of the Master's power was. And they spread the word! They told everything and everyone they could get their hands on! And even here, they remained elves!

He had managed to get hold of a recording of their message, and he fully appreciated the finesse of the long-eared ones. Oh, no, they didn't lie at all. But they had presented it in such a way that it seemed as if he were the guest from another world with the greatest power. And they didn't say a word about the wretch who had fallen into their hands. It's a neat trick, no doubt. There was no doubt that the sharp-eared would use him and his undeserved power to their full advantage. But nothing, he had something to thank them for all the good things, including the broken agreement. But first, there's a priority problem to be solved. A small problem. Somehow to hid naturally from the whole world, which suddenly-suddenly became very interested in him!

He could hide from the sun-worshippers, even in the worst-case scenario of the Iyastar operation, without gaining true power. The knowledge he had acquired with the help of the Memory Gatherer, prepared shelters and loyal dolls would have sufficed. Yes, he would have to lay low and spend decades under siege. But he could accomplish it and survive. Now, with his newfound power, he could hide from the sun worshippers and the elves. The main thing was to buy a little time, to master the gained powers, to set up a new shelter, and then the conversation would go very differently. Full access to the power of the almighty gave him a lot. But hiding from literally the whole world, which is very diligently looking for you - this is a different conversation! He wasn't ready for that at all, and he didn't even count on such a thing.

There were many things Master sincerely disliked. And one of those things was the fear of his own powerlessness. When Saya had brought him the news that the Sharp-Eared had spread the word about him to the world, he'd had to act quickly. Because he well protected the widowed Baroness de Kleban's dwelling, but still not designed to withstand dozens, if not hundreds, of enemies trying to find him. He had to urgently rebuild and strengthen his defenses to the limit of his abilities, for which he had even spent one of his stored free gifts to gain the knowledge he needed. Because it was necessary to build and strengthen not the usual magical defenses that rich people use to protect their homes, that would only give him away. It was necessary not only to maximize the camouflage so that even a direct and directed search could not sense anything suspicious in the house of the Dowager Baroness. Such a thing would also give him away. It was necessary to make it so that after overcoming the 'normal' defenses of her mansion, a house check would not see anything suspicious there. That was orders of magnitude more difficult.

Additional shielding weaves are designed to distort the response of the search charms. The most subtle and plausible illusions to conceal the true state of affairs in the mansion. First of all, his hiding place was in the basement of the mansion, which he had prepared long before the operation in Iyastar. But this was not enough to safely hide from so many enemies. Too many people were looking for him. Yes, almost blindly, but it was the same effect as a volley of fire. When everyone is looking everywhere, the chance of someone getting lucky becomes unpleasantly high.

He was saved by the fact that he had acquired the ability to buy the rarest materials and artifacts from other worlds through the trade shop of the Higher Powers. The opportunity was a shocking discovery for him, as he had not even known about it before. It simply wasn't there as an option in the moments of merging with that lowlife. But it was a pleasant surprise, and he didn't regret the gifts he had spent on it in the slightest. And he praised himself for not having used up all the available resources the moment he discovered the gift. He had wanted to because there were so many things on offer! He wanted everything at once. There was the perfect weapon for Saya. And great protective charms for Basita. And sets of tools to replace his lost laboratory. But the prices were painfully high, and he had to beat himself up, not to make a rash purchase, but to calm down and evaluate everything properly. He allowed himself only a not the most expensive staff-cane as a universal tool.

Oh, it was so wise a decision! Since it was the ability to store for goods at the Almighty's Store that had literally saved him! The feverish search offered a lot of things that could help him escape from the enemies who were looking for him in every possible way. There were individual artifacts and the rarest reagents for masking rituals. But in the end, he settled on one particular item. The acquired artifact, which ate up the entire limit of the Master's possession, was a tall mirror in a heavy bronze frame decorated with fanciful ornamentation. Its perfectly flat surface resembled liquid mercury, giving off a lilac color. It was a masterpiece of a specialist, a magister at the very least, and of a very strange School of Magic. Most of all, it reminded him of the School of Dreamwalking, which Master knew, albeit not very well. But that was exactly what it reminded him of. The mirror had nothing to do with dreamwalking.

The main purpose of it, specified in the description of the store of the Almighty, was to reflect the gazes directed at the owner. It didn't matter what form they took. The usual magical search with the help of casts of subtle bodies, samples of material bodies, or impressions of the gift. Fortune-telling practices of any kind, including sacrificial ones. Attempts at direct divination. All these conditional “views” towards the owner of the artifact either reflected completely, not giving the seekers any clue, or reflected with distortions, throwing up “garbage” visions, or in the most extreme case leading to a false trail. In addition, at such moments, it could also show who and where the gaze was directed from by displaying an image of the search source on its surface. The latter, however, was risky, as it could illuminate the very fact of the reciprocal gaze in case of carelessness.

“Mirror of Dreams” helped him so much, together with the “Memory Gatherer”, which had already become dear and trusted! The latter was switched by Master into the active mode of continuous absorption and destruction of memory about him in any object. This mode worked on a limited territory, in particular, now it worked only within his current home. But it worked so great! The walls and furniture of the mansion of the widowed Baroness de Kleban were now literally incapable of remembering the Master, no matter what he did here or what kind of magic he did. It would not hide the direct traces if he left them, but it would be possible to find him by them or to realize he was here. But for all sorts of clairvoyants and seers who can look into the past of an object, especially a magically saturated one, they are now completely useless. Similarly, they will not be able to become a support for those really powerful seers who are able to send their call-image of what they are looking for through the immaterial world. Such an image can overcome huge distances and it will be enough for it to hook the necessary object in order to receive the response of the sought one.

Master didn't know such skillful artists personally, though. He only heard not the most reliable rumors and half-legends about their existence. But he did not doubt that if there really one of them, he would be involved in the search, promising anything. Therefore, the Memory Gatherer diligently recycles this very memory of his in a continuous mode. Thankfully, with his experience of working with him and increased strength, it was not too difficult. Unlike with the Mirror of Dreams. He had a really hard time with that one. Not only because the artifact was new to him and he had to master it before he could integrate it into his existing defenses. But also because so many people were looking for Master, and VERY diligently. In the days since the elves had uncovered it, he had counted at least a dozen and a half different divination practices using the mirror. of all sorts, directed in his direction from all over the world. There were sacrifices of varying degrees of bloodiness, including the slaughter of sentient beings under the knife. And traditional for the inhabitants of the far north divination with the help of incanted runic stones, not one decade being infused with special power and gaining affinity with Fate itself. There was even one rather exotic attempt to get an answer about his whereabouts with the help of a half-crazed but very powerful gifted Pythian from somewhere in the far south. “The Mirror of Dreams” displayed for a brief moment a half-naked, pitch-black, middle-aged woman with her hair braided into small pigtails and her eyes completely rolled back. Lying on the floor of some room, she was having a visionary seizure, blowing blue foam from her mouth and wheezing something in a language he didn't understand.

More than once the mirror reflected the divine will that had been sent to find him, reeking with the heat of the midday sun. Who would have doubted that the Sun-Face would not leave him alone so easily. Fortunately, even the celestial had his own limitations, and even he could not scour the entire vast territory of the inhabited oikumene with a directed gaze. But even the celestial's occasional glances at the Free Cities did not make Master happy. Nor did a whole host of very strong spirit-seekers, mostly airborne, that swept across Normgrave in search of someone, occupying the bodies of steppe eagles and some other birds of prey. Which were themselves very sighted birds, and with the spirits occupying their bodies they saw even more. For almost an hour they circled over Normgrave, looking for someone. It wasn't hard to guess who, since the locals didn't react to them or interfere in any way. It took him a lot of effort to conceal his presence, and he only exhaled quietly as they flew farther west.

And those were only the things he had been able to see and feel thanks to the Mirror of Dreams. How many such “looks” there were, which went nowhere, was even frightening to imagine. And as if psychics were not enough for him, he had to deal with a banal raid, in which Duke Darmond's secret guards took part, supported by his own guards. As well as the temple guards, especially the paladins of the Oath Keeper, the best stars of the Normgrave branch of the Adventurer's Guild, and the best fists of the major Trading Houses. Some of these fists, however, looked suspiciously like the blades of the local Night Guild. All this motley and very nervous fraternity was literally scouring the Free City of Normgrave with a fine sieve. Methodically and without exception. They were looking for him, or signs of his work. The elves, damn them, had told everyone in detail how to detect his reinforcing weave. The widowed Baroness de Kleban's dwelling located in the Golden City, as the people of Normgrave called the richest and most prestigious part of the city, did not escape inspection.

They had made him nervous when a dozen and a half searchers led by the paladin of Damokar and the lurker of honorable Duke, had come to check on him! What's more, not just nervous, but in genuine fear for his life. Sitting in the shelter, in front of the mirror, he mentally did not stop cursing himself. For giving in to weakness and playing with the minds and bodies of the Baroness and her family so rashly. Only his newfound strength, multiplied by two magnificent artifacts, allowed him to avert his eyes from the inspectors. Or rather, prevented them from seeing any trace of Master's presence in the dwelling of the Baroness and her family. of the widowed Baroness, or in the minds of its inhabitants. And the fact the Baroness's nephew was now a niece. When the uninvited guests, having inspected the mansion with the full cooperation of its inhabitants, left without finding anything, the Master's dress shirt could be wrung out. And the bronze frame of the Mirror of Dreams could be used to light tinder for the fireplace because it was so hot. He had to urgently save the expensive artifact by injecting additional neutral energy into it and carefully deflating the negative energy. It was not an easy job, especially with an unfamiliar artifact, but Master managed. It was not enough to ruin such a useful masking artifact bought for a huge sum!

And it had some rather amusing additional properties. As he realized, the Mirror of Dreams was capable not only of reflecting the gazes directed at the owner but also of changing the reflections of those who looked into it at the owner's will. And together with the reflections, the people looking at it changed. It was possible to put in front of him some bad-looking girl, and simply order her to look at his reflection. And begin to change it gradually, with the help of an extremely convenient control weave. Gradually, the reflection of the wimp loses pimples, greasy skin, crooked teeth, brittle and thin hair, and excessive fullness. Instead, there is a perfect snow-white smile, tight silky curls, velvety and clean skin, thin waist, and perfect posture. Along with the reflection begins to gradually change the original acquiring new features. Not only the appearance could be changed. You could give the reflection a scatterbrained and silly expression, and the original gradually ceased to shine with intelligence. Of course, there were a lot of nuances and subtleties he hadn't quite figured out yet.

For example, the stronger the object was, the more power it took to change it, and the more time it took. Especially if the changes were serious. To change a young girl's tits from a size four to a size five, for example, required considerably less effort than from a size one to a size four. And more time, especially if the change wasn't meant to be realized by the victim. In theory, the Mirror of Dreams could change the victim even from a single glance at his reflection. Changing gender, appearance, life priorities, and worldview in a matter of seconds. But such an impact would cause a very strong tension in the main weaves of the artifact and require a long recharge. Or even service from a specialized artifact master. Or better yet, a magister.

The ideal conditions for these additional properties of the “Mirror of Dreams” were such that the victim herself would regularly, even if only for a short time, approach it in order to beautify herself, to admire herself, to evaluate a new outfit or her own beautiful naked body. Each new reflection would change her just a little bit. But frighteningly imperceptible and inevitable. The mirror even had a special disguise mode for this, turning it into a very expensive but relatively ordinary mirror for the outside observer. Yes, enchanted not to shatter by accident, but nothing more. In theory, it could be “gifted” to the intended victim, pre-injected with the desired image, under which the mirror would gradually begin to change either everyone who started to look into it, or only the chosen victim. A couple of months and the unsuspecting owner or the owner, without noticing it, would turn into a completely different person. In addition, it was possible to spy through it, seeing everything reflected in the mirror. And, if desired, also what was reflected from other mirrors or simply polished surfaces within the radius of action, although the latter required considerable effort and strained the artifact's weaving.

A rather strange feature for an excellent camouflage artifact. Seriously, who would ever think of letting such a valuable item out of their hands just for the sake of treating some rich beauty? Or, on the contrary, ugly, which is not important. There are specialized specialists and specialized artifacts for that, as well as for espionage. Much more convenient. And to use a great masking artifact for the unnoticeable processing of the victim, by introducing this artifact into its environment... It's like stoking the fireplace with magic wands instead of wood. Who could think of such a thing, Master couldn't imagine. Nor did he intend to, for he had more important things to do. For example, to figure out how to save his life and his newfound power.

Despite the wonderful artifact and the new possibilities, it was impossible to stay in Normgrave. The risk was too great. The Free Cities of the Confederacy are one of the first places they'll look for him. And a past test means nothing. It could happen again, and suddenly. So we have to leave. But where? No one's gonna leave him alone. And outside his safe haven, his enemies will only need a stroke of luck to find him, if not discover him then to get a rough idea of where he is. After that, this place will be sifted with a fine sieve by all comers. Adding to the problem was the fact that he'd left too many traces. The lab alone. If he had more time, he could have solved this problem with his newfound strength. But no one was going to give him time. Master thought about this question very intensely, calculating the most different variants of salvation. And one of them seemed to him unexpectedly promising. Risky, of course, but in case of success it would solve most of his problems.

But two loyal puppets and his new powers weren't enough to accomplish what he'd planned. In theory, that might have been enough, given he still had some puppets left. But it was all too risky and, let's face it, too scary. He needed help. Preferably serious help. So, he could get out of the city unnoticed, and stay that way afterward. The resources he had at his disposal would not be enough to guarantee the realization of his plan. But it was possible today his luck would smile on him again. Oh yes, he was sought after by many and very diligently. But among the glances averted by Mirror of Dreams Master had found a few glances that were not quite glances. Or rather, they weren't just glances. It was not difficult to recognize in those rituals, outwardly designed to find his person, a veiled invitation to “talk”, if one knew where to look and what to pay attention to. Master knew.

The first invitation came from the far south lying beyond the Great Desert and the equally Great Jungle. The Mirror of Dreams caught another attempt to find him through divination. It reflected a small circle of shamans, consisting of one elder and four of his apprentice assistants. All were black, dressed in leopard skins, and adorned with numerous claws, fangs, and feathers of wild beasts. They, seated around the smoldering embers of a lined stone hearth were monotonously calling, working their magic in the spacious tent. The purpose of their efforts, however, was not the summoning of spirits expected of shamans. They performed a divination ritual on a multitude of small bird bones saturated with magic. The purpose of the divination was to find out the location of Master. The divination was conducted competently and quite skillfully, with a high chance of success. However, success in such fortune-telling is a very elusive concept, as they could easily get an answer like “In the North” or “Cave of Manmade Stone”. Which could be considered a success, since they got the answer. But such an answer was of little use.

The Master would not have paid any attention to these divinations, for the ritual, though conducted according to all the rules, was not strong enough to overcome the protection of his new artifact. But in the reflection on the surface of the Mirror of Dreams, he noticed with a trained eye that all the movements of the five shaman-guessers were absolutely synchronized. Impossibly synchronized. The beating of their palms on the drums clamped between their knees, the shaking of their heads, the inhalations and exhalations. Even the blinks and lip movements were completely in sync. And the faces. Completely blank faces and glazed eyes. It was enough for Master to realize that in front of him were not living people, but living puppets, which someone decided to use as a tool. We know, we can, we practice. It could be assumed the one who seeks him in this way is afraid of reciprocal attention from him and thus reinsures himself.

But it didn't fit with the fact that the shaman-puppets, having once again thrown the dice, didn't even look at the result, and immediately started a new call. The picture was completed by the fact that on the chest of the eldest of the five hung an amulet that stood out from the background. It was an ordinary silver amulet, almost magic-free. An open human palm, fingers down. A very common sign. In the lands of the black tribes, it signified, among other things, good intentions and a proposal for peaceful dialog. Very interesting... And very alarming, because of which Master kept the image of shamans, but did not hurry to respond to the proposal. A fisherman sees a fisherman from afar, as they say.

The second suggestion, also disguised as a divination practice, came from the Underworld. As expected, the practice was sacrificial and bloody, and therefore quite powerful, so the Mirror of Dreams had to reflect it, drawing attention away. In the process, its surface reflected a small cave, where on the leveled floor, in the center of the ritual circle were laid out several bodies of people with open bellies. Divination by entrails was an openly dark practice, with serious limitations on the possible results. But with the right victim and competent execution, this method of divination was disgustingly effective. However, in general, such divination allowed to get only “Yes or No” answers.

There were more than one or two such divinations, not only from the Underworld but from the Great Jungle as well. The Lizards, too, had a taste for bloody rituals. But this particular divination attracted the Master's attention by the fact all the people sacrificed, including men, were dressed in revealing female robes, so beloved by the top of the dark elves. To avoid any doubts, they were also defiantly smeared with some dirt, which made their skin dirty gray, and their hair was dyed with something white. On the chest of each of the dead, above the open abdomen, the same white paint was painted with the schematic sign of one or another House of the Dark Elves. All of them, as far as Master could identify, were from the same city. Curious, he used the mirror to recognize the question the fortune-teller was trying to answer. And that question was “Does he want to talk?” Well, a rather transparent offer of cooperation, quite in the spirit of the underground sharp-eared ones. Also quite expected and potentially interesting.

But with dark elves, as well as with their surface relatives, one should be extremely careful. There was no doubt they would try to cheat him by offering him a deal. So, before trying to enter into a dialog with potential partners, one should properly prepare and ensure himself. He has the opportunity to do this, but he does not have the time. Therefore, we will put this option aside for now. But it is worth remembering.

There were a few more offers to “talk”, disguised as different variants of magic call-search, which he managed to catch with the help of his new mirror. But each of them sent a chill down his spine and gave him a bad feeling. Considering the acquired and doubly strengthened elite gift “Danger Sense III”, Master did not even direct the mirror's gaze in their direction. Attempts to find out his location under the guise of negotiation were also quite expected.

But the most interesting offer came from a place where he was not expecting it. Checking once again the few things he had managed to salvage during his escape from the lab, he found a new entry in the artifact diary used to communicate with the puppets and accomplices.

Greetings, Honorable Master!

I sincerely hope you receive this message. I know you are not in the easiest of circumstances. And I also sincerely believe we can be of use to each other. If you are interested in this offer and are still within the Confederacy, please let me know.

Well, well, well. For a few minutes, Master stared at the record that appeared. It was written in the language of the Free Cities. The handwriting was impeccable and impersonal. It was probably written with an enchanted quill. There was no signature, of course, nor was there any other hint as to who the author of the message was, other than the mention of the Confederacy and the language of the message. But that might have nothing to do with the author at all, it was the way it was written and spoken throughout almost the entire region of the Middle Seas. Judging by the pages on which the message originated, it was sent from the diary of the now-deceased Leonard de Ferran. Which was quite surprising, as this trail had been, in his opinion, quite securely cleaned up by the hands of the late lord's wife and domestic servants. The handled puppets were to destroy, among other things, Leonard's hiding places, to which they should have had access. And where the artifact diary should have been kept, among other things. How could it have survived? And who got their hands on it? Very interesting...

For a long time, Master pondered whether to answer. He wasn't afraid of being discovered through the diary. Not because it was impossible. Even though such artifacts were very reliable means of secret communication, there were ways to trace the addressee, albeit not easy ones. If one tried hard enough, while writing a message with one diary, one could determine where another diary was. Especially, if you search from several points in space. Difficult and troublesome, but the Master believed that for that many would go to almost any trouble. So he improved his diary so that what was written in it could appear in another diary with a delay. So once he had written a message, he could give it to Sae, and she would go away with it, and then send the message afterward. The question was, should he even reply? And who would get their hands on Leonard's diary? Hmm.

After much deliberation, Master decided to give it a try, for if he failed, he had nothing to lose.

Greetings!

I was rather surprised to receive your message in this way. I did not expect that the journal of the honorable Lord Leonard had somehow survived. I am even more surprised that you should venture to use it to address me, considering the circumstances in which I am now. I will not deny that I am interested in your proposal and I am ready to discuss it substantially. But for our further communication to be meaningful, I would like to know with whom exactly I have the pleasure to communicate. I understand perfectly well your possible desire to keep incognito and anonymity, but I also count on your understanding that in this case, it is impossible. In order for us to be useful to each other, I need to understand how you can help me and how I can thank you.

I am prepared to discuss the details of the meeting with you either in person or through your trusted intermediary. I fully understand that, given my reputation, you will want to take every possible precaution, and I fully endorse this. But I also ask you to understand that I too will be forced to take the most serious precautions on my part. If you are satisfied with this, I reserve to you the right to appoint a place of meeting, but I warn you at once that I cannot guarantee the possibility of my arrival. Therefore, I recommend you prepare several options in advance.

When he finished writing, the Master handed the diary to Saya and carefully instructed his slanted doll. She understood perfectly and immediately vanished into thin air. He had been on pins and needles all day, but in the end, everything went flawlessly. The experienced and well-trained assassin of the Unseen Clan had been able to sneak in where she wasn't invited before, and to go unnoticed where she wasn't supposed to. And with her new powers, those skills had increased even more. Saya was able to use the main inter-city portal of Normgrave, which stood in the central square of the Golden City when a procession of carts was passing through it.

Traveling between cities through portals was not cheap, so the Trading Houses tried to transport goods through them in the largest possible batches and in the shortest possible time. Because of that, the process of passing several dozens, and sometimes even hundreds of carts, necessarily enchanted for strength and weight reduction in order to carry more cargo, was a process of nervousness to the extreme. Everyone yelled at each other, hurried each other, a wheel of some cart was bound to fall off, and sometimes the portalists managed to mix up the entrance and exit circuits, because of which two streams of moving people collided, and there was a monstrous crush. In such a situation an experienced assassin with excellent disguise skills could easily slip through with one of the carts.

As a result, Saya changed several Free Cities in a day, literally going to every shore of the Middle Sea to send a message as far away from Normgrave as possible. It was late at night when she returned. The next morning, as soon as Master awoke, a new entry was found in the diary.

I'm satisfied with your terms, honorable Master.

I can meet your envoy in Normgrave. The meeting place is the Northern Siren Retreat House in the Golden City. The servants' entrance on the side of the alley between the Northern Siren and the Weavers' Guild trading rows. The time is after sundown. Password: “Wine doesn't grow in the north, but that makes it three times sweeter there.” My men will administer it after they've done their inspection. If these conditions do not suit you, I can offer you another Free City in the Confederacy.

Seeing what he read, the Master felt his heart skip a beat with fear. “Northern Siren?! That's right next door! Could it be... No, no, no, no, it can't be! If they knew, the city would already be under lockdown. What if they're trying to tell him they know where he is?! No, no, then they wouldn't bother with the diary, they'd act from a position of strength and try to nail him to the wall... Okay, calm down! Calm down! Coincidences happen! But... No! It's a coincidence. After all, it's no problem for someone with power and money to use the Confederacy's network of portals, and arrive in literally any city in the Confederacy. It could very well be that for THEM, Normgrave is neutral territory.

After calming down, Master pulled himself together and began to write back.

Your offer is more than satisfactory. Expect my envoy tomorrow evening.

And then he began to prepare himself for the upcoming meeting. He was not going to send Saya or any of the widowed Baroness de Kleban's servants. Therefore, his slanted doll had to catch two young boys in the local poor quarters, from among those who looked more decent, and drag them to the house of the Baroness. It took several hours of hard work to turn them into obedient puppets. No elegance, no creativity. The ultimate in functional craftsmanship. We had to turn both ragamuffins into, essentially, his own eyes and ears. Very keen eyes and very sensitive ears, able to detect the slightest attempt to get through them to him. And at the same time make his changes as unnoticeable as possible from the outside. One of the ragamuffins will go to the meeting. The other will be in a safe place within the city, and control him from a distance. The second, in turn, will be controlled by Saya. And she, of course, will be controlled by him. It's a triple precaution.

It took the rest of the day to think over the details, to calculate all the possible variants of various troubles, and to prepare the puppets. Master went to bed exhausted, but satisfied with his work, having instructed Saya to escort the two ragamuffins to the right places. And his puppet had expectedly done a perfect job. The only thing left to do was to wait until evening.

Author's Note:

The chapter was supposed to be about Cyryusha's harsh labor life, but Master said his drastic NOT, and completely pulled the whole blanket over on himself.

Alas, the chapter was without lemons, but Master is understandable - he doesn't have time for sex right now.

But in the next chapter, there will definitely be fruits. For Cyryusha has been set on the right path!

Once again, thank you to everyone who corrects slips, comments, asks questions, writes omaks, and of course clicks the like button :)

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