Настучать в бубен / Hit the tambourine: Глава 4.4

The transition to martial law is, in fact, not something completely unbelievable or as dramatic as it is portrayed in the movies—not in the least. It’s simply that, at some point, people begin to live their ordinary lives at a slightly different pace. Shopping trips are either canceled or taken less frequently, servants are accompanied by armed guards, and some perishable foods have disappeared from the menu. Correspondence with business partners and trusted associates takes place through more secure channels, straining the resources of expensive amulets; letters are now encrypted, and the expense line for payments to militants is rising alarmingly. Moreover, the armed men and women of the security detail are now supplemented by contract mercenaries from the guild—mercenaries with a good reputation and no ties to the Steppe, so they won’t be poached.

Camrad_RIP 04.09.26 в 12:01

It was a strange state of war. De jure, only the de Lomer Trading House was at war, even though de facto it was aided by a number of allies, debtors, comrades, “allies,” and “comrades.” The latter did more “help” than actually assist, but even so, they hardly dared to openly play into the enemy’s hands. At the same time, Morgrave itself, like a number of other cities where the House had branches, went about its business as usual. To the extent that the life of an ordinary citizen can ever be peaceful in a world of brutal, dark fantasy.

Camrad_RIP 04.09.26 в 12:03

This created a strange contrast, one that was unfamiliar to Stepan, who had never actually witnessed a “Trade war.” It was nothing like a local “Noble war.” And certainly not like a Global war, one that affects everyone. Singha, for example, was very impressed by the visit of those fucking islanders on their fucking flagship precisely because they didn’t play by the old, complicated rules of limited conflicts, but simply and unpretentiously came to kill and plunder everyone, indiscriminately. In short, she hasn’t liked islanders ever since—which, come to think of it, is basically racism and islandophobia! Not all island sailors are cruel, greedy, and dishonorable pirates! I mean, those particular ones were exactly like that, but not because they’re islanders!

Camrad_RIP 04.09.26 в 12:08

All joking aside, the overall work schedule for all de Lomer employees in the city—and especially at the estate—has changed significantly. To be fair, right here in Morgrave, after the first assassination attempt, the situation remained calm, and there were no new attacks—if you don’t count minor incidents. But in the bigger picture, there were such incidents: missing caravans and “allies” who switch sides. There were attacks on specific individuals working for the Trading House or under its authority. The hardest blow was struck during the very first two days, when the other side hadn’t yet realized that Akshtar, to put it bluntly, had screwed up.

Camrad_RIP 04.09.26 в 12:10

In defense of the green—which, judging by images from the Urvag and Furval archives, is actually more of a gray with the faintest hint of faded green—the battle-hardened veteran, some of those who attacked de Lomer’s assets were assured that the ++Silent Drum would unleash his ultimate move. His signature attack had actually wiped out entire clans in the past; it seems the Trading Houses took a hit as well, though to a somewhat lesser extent, since blood ties aren’t always a requirement there. It’s another matter entirely that they struck at the bridge between the Confederation and the Steppe—at the Urvaga family and his wife and daughter. Take them out, and there’s a good chance de Lomer would be kicked out of the steppe market for steel, horses, and wool.

Camrad_RIP 04.09.26 в 12:22

Most of those who had decided to quietly grab something for themselves—whether among Sulsham Bey’s allies or enemies on the Steppe, among the loyalists of the Maega dynasty or their opponents, or among Urvag’s business partners or rival merchants—very quickly backed out of the scheme. As soon as they realized Urvag had survived and was standing on very solid ground, Maega and her daughter were unharmed—and, on the contrary, very angry and active—they suddenly and sharply remembered that they needed to get along. Strange complaints, refusals to pay for goods already received, attempts to unilaterally renegotiate deals, or to seize assets or goods—most of these skirmishes did not spill a single drop of blood.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 07:51

Or they spilled, but the blood of small fry, and not of anyone important... for the most part.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 07:51

And once they realized classic “it didn’t work out” had happened, they all scrambled to write letters claiming they’d been misled, misunderstood, or that one of their local henchmen had gone too far. In particularly dire cases, they attached images of the severed heads of these goats. Scapegoats, of course. One particularly outstanding steppe warlord, whose views fluctuated wildly in line with the party line, even went so far as to stage a small cargo portal via a shamanic ritual, literally handing over the head of the “culprit.”

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 07:58

So de Lomer responded to some of these letters or amulet calls, accepted apologies and “apologies,” and pretended to believe what was said. In some cases, they actually did believe them when it was clear that someone had been dragged into the shit against their will or even without their knowledge. However, the level of trust in such individuals became even lower than in those who had betrayed or deliberately sought to “catch sheep from a stray flock” (almost a perfect parallel to the proverb about a fish in a murky pond). At least those aren’t fools.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:00

To some of these letters, de Lomer didn’t respond at all and pretended they never received them. In cases where blood had been shed, or where it would be more advantageous to punish those who had brought it upon themselves “in a fair and honorable way” than to accept an apology along with a settlement and let the matter drop. After all, someone had to serve as an example of why one shouldn’t mess with de Lomer. Stepan had no intention of taking part in these actions. There are no innocents there—otherwise he would have intervened as an ally—but there are also no blatantly guilty parties either; otherwise, he would have participated himself. His work will begin when Akshtar himself and his clique are targeted. That’s when he’ll really let loose.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:06

Meanwhile, Stae’s work had all but come to a standstill. The young Lady Singha hardly ever left the estate; she avoided get-togethers with her friends, citing her busy schedule, her health, and Furval’s decree regarding the trade war. She devoted herself to calls, preparing for them, self-study, or working alongside her mother. As a result, most of her retinue found themselves out of work. Stae, however, was an exception. For Stae was also somewhat gifted and assisted the young lady with a number of preparatory rituals—or even with the preparations for those rituals. They didn’t even consider letting him near the White Yurt, but he simply had to be with the young lady constantly or at least frequently. In the process, he inevitably picked up great wisdom from her (in the words of others, or unspoken opinions, this sounded without sarcasm, by the way).

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:17

To sum up so far: at this point, it wasn’t just the “insiders” or “lesser insiders”—like Maître Lavis, for example—who should have started to guess what role Stae was being groomed for. Even the absolute small fry could start to figure it out. What am I saying! Even Stae himself—no matter how slow-witted he might be—should have begun to suspect that such a favorable attitude toward him wasn’t without reason and wasn’t just because of his grandmother’s letter of recommendation. The slow-witted, half-baked spellcaster himself would have gladly avoided such an “honor,” but he and Singha really had to work together, sometimes even alone (or by clouding the perception of those accompanying them so they wouldn’t notice Stae’s excessive competence in matters of magic).

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:24

In the end, Maega played the card of “concern” for poor Stae, who had nearly died from a magical allergic reaction triggered by an incorrect dosage of a love potion. The one who was most frightened, by the way, was that very same beautiful shrew who had decided to “tease” her unloved relative in a “friendly” way. There was a long-standing feud between the bride brought from the Steppes and one of the women who had been considered a potential bride for Urvag. According to him, one of the significant reasons he had become so attached to Maega was precisely the prospect of marrying this remarkable woman with a very kind and easygoing nature.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:26

But it’s one thing when this friend-relative makes a promising young man fall in love with her, her daughter, and her niece, thus thwarting Maega’s plans. It’s quite another when she nearly sends the groom who was so hard to find for Singha to his grave. And right on cue, too—almost simultaneously with Akshtar’s attack. The poor (no), completely innocent (no!), and utterly harmless (NO!!!) beauty was the first to bring in a relic of the Keeper of Oaths that she’d rented from somewhere, assuring Maega—and especially Urvag—that she hadn’t planned anything like that and was apologizing in every possible way. Including financially, and—even better—in non-financial ways as well.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:35

That’s how Maega “took care” of the young bull—shielding him from threats and keeping him as close as possible to Singha, all while maintaining at least some semblance of propriety. She didn’t even try to hide the fact that her daughter was “teaching this boy a thing or two,” which explained why they could sometimes be left alone or under minimal supervision. Ideally, they would have brought Lavis into the loop as well, but Urvag couldn’t trust him that much. He would have to demand a stronger oath. And not just any oath—one that the man hadn’t signed, even though he was Urvag’s close associate and had earned Maega’s trust. For now, it was easier to keep Lavis in the dark; fortunately, he’d bought into the story about looking for a husband and hadn’t yet seen anything suspicious or out of line with the story.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:49

For Stae, this resulted in even more people wanting to befriend him, a slew of envious glances, a slight easing of the strictness from Master Lavis and other superiors, as well as a great deal of interest from representatives of the House and their entourages. Three attempts to get him to open up using relaxing alchemy—which he “didn’t notice”—but he “let slip” that Singha had also captured his heart, without actually saying a word about it. He blushed, stumbled over his words, said some ambiguous nonsense, and then very earnestly explained that he hadn’t meant it that way. Classic—you could just take that and make a comedy out of it. He and Singha really did laugh out loud at several scenes that Stepan had overdone in the recording.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:53

The few attempts at poisoning were much more entertaining. Only one could have been considered lethal—and even that was a slapdash job. Urvag was even genuinely pleased that he’d been able, with a clear conscience, to kick that aging relative—who was already gradually slipping into dementia—out of his House. The second attempt involved slipping him a magical equivalent of a concentrated erectile dysfunction potion, which would have prevented him from ever getting an erection again for the rest of his life and reduced his fertility by a couple of orders of magnitude. That incident also avoided a public scandal; they paid a fine and made an example of the perpetrator. Given all the local moral standards and the general tension in the situation, they punished him with the utmost severity.

Camrad_RIP 01.10.26 в 19:44

The Earthling personally intervened, asking that the young man not be executed (not executed outright, but simply punished through the terms of the courtier’s employment contract, which would strip away half his aura)—a young man who didn’t even fully understand why he was being used— while Urvag agreed, since he managed to turn the situation around so that, for him, the very framing of the question—when a scapegoat was thrown at him—was simply insulting. He even managed to push through an additional service, although given their close relationship, he could have forgiven himself for it; still, they managed without formal contracts, just like family. Forgiving oneself so often isn’t exactly good for one’s health or the family atmosphere, but this service won’t be guaranteed either.

Camrad_RIP 01.10.26 в 19:45

The guy who slipped the potion into the drink was simply kicked out because, after they’d thrown him under the bus, it would have been unwise to take him back into the inner circle. What if he had the nerve to hold a grudge? No way—they just stripped him bare through that same employment contract and kicked him out in disgrace, effectively giving him a “wolf ticket.” He didn’t know anything truly secret; otherwise, they would have definitely killed him. He wasn’t a close enough confidant; he was more of a mere errand boy with some potential. Stepan later slipped into his shabby knapsack a pouch of silver with a couple of gold pieces at the bottom, an amulet of false identity, and a letter with a sincere wish for him to get the hell out of Mograve and never come back.

Camrad_RIP 01.10.26 в 19:48

The latest poisoning attempt turned out to be downright comically absurd—a contact potion with a laxative effect, extremely potent and fast-acting, applied to surfaces inside the restroom. The very one used by Singha’s entourage, since it’s located in their section of the mansion’s wing. Moreover, this potion is highly selective—it affects only men by binding to male hormones, and it also requires the presence of a gift, since aural energy serves as fuel for the potion’s composition. What’s more, some skilled alchemist has further refined the potion’s selectivity so that it works on a practitioner of wild magic with aura characteristics roughly matching those of Ste. It’s not yet a perfect custom fit, but it’s close.

Camrad_RIP 01.10.26 в 20:15

Rounding out the picture was the potion’s hormone-triggering nature, which caused not only diarrhea but also a sudden fit of terror—enough to make him literally shit himself out of sheer terror and run out of the bathroom covered in shit, dropping it along the way. The blow wasn’t fatal, but it was hurtful and deeply insulting to Ste. And it was ridiculously expensive, too—what a rip-off! Thirty gold coins—enough to pay a good mercenary squad for a couple of decades or a single major skirmish! But not just any mage could concoct such a concoction—it was custom-made, and Maega even recognized the signature style of one of the city’s alchemy masters. He could very well have demanded a favor in return, rather than money.

Camrad_RIP 01.10.26 в 20:23

Stepan was genuinely baffled. This attack had been planned as a full-fledged assassination attempt, yet it was anything but an actual assassination attempt. It turned out to be the work of one of Furval’s distant relatives—and, moreover, a trusted member of his personal entourage. The man turned bright red and spoke exclusively in profanities—“the boy,” or rather, the sturdy twenty-six-year-old wasn’t exactly head over heels in love with Singh, but he was seriously taken with her. At one point, he had even hoped that his boss would push for a way to strengthen the ties between the two branches of their House, but it didn’t work out.

Camrad_RIP 01.10.26 в 20:25

He was a seasoned pro and an experienced agent, so he didn’t make a scene or actually try to win over his childhood crush against all reason. Besides, he knew about the peculiarities of inheritance in the Maega family, so he quickly realized it just wasn’t meant to be and all that. But just having to look at that little little shit—an upstart who’d literally come out of nowhere, a rootless little piece of shit with barely any gift (even the romantic Riorik has a gift; he’s a strong apprentice or even a weak adept)—who would soon be hugging and loving his Singha… that was more than he could bear. He didn’t dare and didn’t want to harm his own House, and he understood rationally that Stae certainly wasn’t to blame in this matter. But he couldn’t do anything either. So things turned out the way they did.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:13

From the unspoken hints, it became clear that this Agent Forty-Seven in Furval’s entourage served as his personal hitman. In fact, the main evidence of Riorik’s guilt was the absence of any proof of his involvement, given the flawless execution of the poisoning itself. And then there was the fact that the guy had suddenly decided to go on a drinking binge and was now being urgently sobered up by a couple of comrades, who were trying to cover up his unsteady state. It was very funny to hear this dialogue from behind Furval—who was practically on fire with rage—as he became painfully polite and arctic-calm for the duration of the conversation, all while watching the events unfold in the room where those three were sitting.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:15

Actually, if this guy—who’s usually as calm as not even a boa constrictor, but rather the serpentarium housing those boas, as depicted in a stone statue—hadn’t let his emotions get the better of him, he certainly wouldn’t have gotten involved in this kind of nonsense. Or he would have covered his tracks much better than he did. It ended with a stern reprimand, sincere apologies (he was ashamed of his ugly nervous breakdown, not of what he’d actually done), a not-very-sincere forgiveness, and a saved sample of the poisonous laxative—which wouldn’t have affected Stepan anyway, even if he hadn’t noticed that junk before entering the restroom, thanks to his high Sensitivity and a pair of scent-detecting receptors in his nasal cartilages. The aura was wrong, and on top of that, it was too strong: the mixture simply couldn’t have worked on someone so gifted and powerful; otherwise, Singha would have been at risk as well, even if that risk were negligible due to, well, her being female.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:18

“By Gaia's tits and those of all her priestesses, why is this happening to me, huh?” Furval asked—not quite the heavens, not quite his brother, and not quite Maega, who was glaring angrily at him. “Why is it that even seemingly reliable and trusted subordinates keep pulling off something... well, like this?!”

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:18

What a nightmare. How is anyone supposed to live with such huge problems?! It’s not that Stepan didn’t acknowledge that everyone faces difficulties in life—and that “even the rich cry”—but right now, he had no time to put himself in someone else’s shoes. Someone had screwed him over—almost literally. And now he had to figure out exactly what to do about it, because Furval—of all people, having already twice gently hinted that he was ready to swear under oath that he had nothing to do with this disgraceful incident—was now extremely on edge because Stepan had ignored those hints. Stepan, on the other hand, had simply fallen into a kind of melancholic gloom, and, as always happens in such cases, his face had turned as hard as a brick—which was exactly why Furgal was so on edge.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:32

"Pann, say something." Singha is actually smiling because everything’s going well for her. She just completed a small quest from the System. She’s constantly leveling up through active shamanism, and on top of that, she’s teamed up with Stepan—and the whole situation genuinely amuses her. “My uncle’s getting nervous. You look… not good. Like you want to kill someone. I already know you don’t. But my uncle doesn't.”

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:34

Stepan looked at the girl with such gloomy skepticism in his eyes, but he nevertheless acknowledged that she was right and emerged from the melancholy that had come over him for some unknown reason. He looked at Urvag, who was smirking under his mustache; at Maega, who was carefully maintaining her meditative calm; and at Singha, who was relaxed and seemed completely unperturbed. He also looked at Furval, who was on the verge of breaking a sweat; with his meager talent—not even enough to qualify as a student—he was successfully controlling his morning energy and outward displays of emotion.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:37

“If he'd pulled that kind of crap on the real Stae, would you have killed him?” Sure, there were probably good reasons to kill a homegrown jerk, but definitely not for trying to give someone horrible diarrhea. “Or would you have punished him some other way?”

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 13:57

“I wouldn’t kill him,” the chubby man replied cautiously, clearly not entirely convinced that Stepan was showing mercy rather than leading him toward the most logical conclusion. “He’s a useful guy, reliable. Family, again, not close blood, but not distant either. I’d offer Maega a good ransom for his life—a ‘kalyam-dakhan,’ as they say in the Steppe. And Rory himself, of course, would remember for the rest of his life why he shouldn’t drink too much. He might even quit drinking altogether.”

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 14:04

Well, let’s say he wouldn’t pay a kalym-dakhan—a ransom for a life taken as punishment for a dishonorable act—for Stae, who isn’t even an official fiancé yet. But he’s not lying; he would have tried to ransom his specialist’s life and health from Maega, and she, of course, would have given him a hard time, but she would have accepted the ransom. And Urvag would surely have helped out, taking the blow himself, and then weathering the inevitable storm—a hurricane, a typhoon, a tornado, and every other kind of prevailing wind.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 14:07

“So be it,” he said. He looked at Furval with that trademark drowsy gaze—one-thousandth of a percent like the one Rodislav Gastoldovich Yanin had—forcing the head of the trading house to draw on all his experience to keep from flinching or stepping back. “Just keep your people, well, in check. I’m not a confrontational person. Especially when I myself give people a reason to dislike the mask I’m forced to wear. But if this romantic character of yours tries to repeat his scheme—to close the gestalt, so to speak—then I’ll… be disappointed.”

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 14:10

It’s best not to stray too far into the wilderness of universal forgiveness. While Urvag has a rough idea of Stepan’s way of thinking, Furval is still new to their circle, and the shaman didn’t want to give anyone a reason to think they could walk all over him. Although, from their perspective, his mindset and notions of what’s acceptable surely still seem like utter madness. The broad-shouldered, top-tier merchant is currently having roughly the same thoughts as Urvag and Maega did when Stepan was being hired as a steward at their estate. That same lack of understanding, mild shock, and cautious desire to convey the idea that this is somehow wrong and simply not done—that it’s offensive and terribly indecent for a mage of his caliber.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 14:36

Furval just has a much better poker face than Maega, that's all.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 15:31

But these are just fleeting problems, especially since the matter of the head of the de Lomer household joining their alliance has practically been settled. He already knows far too much, so he has no objection to taking the same oaths as Urvag, under the same terms of the alliance with Stepan. At this point, it was Stepan himself who understood Singha’s unspoken thoughts: It’s too early to agree, because otherwise it will look suspicious. For the sake of propriety, at least, he needs to haggle a bit. And besides, according to local etiquette, it would simply be rude to “push Urvag aside” in favor of his brother.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 14:38

Oh, those local morals, parochial customs, and that cultural shitness that's universal all over the world!

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:38

He can't wait to get down to business and make that final push—otherwise, he is in such a mood that he feels like killing someone.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 12:55

* * *

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 08:54

The Steppe is calm and quiet at night; only the wind rustles the grass, and a barely perceptible air elemental chases some magical counterpart to feather grass around the area. The thunderstorm has only just died down, but the air is already almost dry; the Steppe has absorbed all the moisture, every last bit of it. The silence isn’t quite absolute—small creatures rustle in the grass, crickets chirp, and far, far off, right on the horizon, the lights of a fairly large encampment are visible. If you look more closely, you’ll see that those lights are joined by a series of shimmering fields and nets, forming a rather effective magical defense around the camp. And a whole circle of spirits, arranged in two parallel yet cooperating groups, forms a defense that’s actually quite good.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 14:42

However, that protection is over there, near the encampment, not here in the middle of the steppe, where not even patrols venture due to the distance from any dangerous or protected areas. The only out-of-place element here seems to be a gray—almost colorless—arrow stuck in the grass. It’s the most ordinary kind—at least half of every self-respecting warrior’s quiver is filled with arrows like this—without enchantments, without decorations, and without any features that would draw attention. Were it not for this strange colorlessness in magical perception, it would be completely unremarkable.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 14:45

This arrow appeared here about three days ago, unnoticed by the patrols—also at night. A lone steppe wanderer—well-equipped and highly skilled at concealing himself, both on his own and with the help of the amulets given to him—left this arrow here. He fired it, by the way, from a distance of nearly three leaps—seven kilometers, according to the alien system of weights and measures. A tremendous distance, but the steppe traveler’s bow was remarkably good, and no particular accuracy was required. Shooting at such a distance is possible in theory and in practice. Still, as for hitting the target—if anyone can manage it, it would be only a couple or three elven masters, and even then, the arrow would have to be one of those specially sharpened for long-range shots. Well, maybe five or six such masters. If you really looked hard, you might find one or two among the steppe dwellers, but they’re mostly found in the legends and tales of the time of the Chief of Chiefs, not among the living.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 14:47

Either the elves don't like competitors, or they simply diligently eliminated all the comrades of the Chief of Chiefs who were dangerous to them - history is silent about this, just as the elves are silent.

Camrad_RIP 05.09.26 в 15:31

The arrow won’t tell anyone anything either. It simply lies there and exists. To ordinary and magical eyes, this arrow is just an arrow—no enchantments or anomalies, except for its color scheme. In spiritual perception, it’s almost the same, though only a very attentive spirit summoner would realize that this arrow, in some strange way, exerts pressure on the Higher Spheres. It is as if the spheres themselves are constantly shifting, even if only slightly—shifting, moving, transforming, and seemingly breathing—while this arrow remains absolutely unbreakable and unchanged in every moment of time. But to notice this, one would have to find this arrow and then bring it to that very attentive shaman, for he would not go out on patrols or ride on horseback through the heat and rain.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 15:10

And even the patrols—without the shamans—didn't come around here.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 15:10

The spiritual world twitched slightly, becoming veiled by a haze, ripples, and a veil—visible for just a brief moment. Then, about ten minutes later, there was another faint surge of power, and a spirit—not yet manifested in reality—appeared in the world of the Spheres. A large, mighty, fully-formed elder, hidden deep within the layers of those Spheres, resembling a terrifying carnivorous jellyfish—a Portuguese man-of-war that had mutated under the Chernobyl rains and the salts of St. Petersburg. And it was this jellyfish that extended the very tip of its body closer to the surface—a single small, slender tentacle, thinner than a spider’s web.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 15:48

Then the second, the third, the tenth—each of these tentacles was not only a venomous stinger but also a sensory organ; each scanned reality and everything in its vicinity for anything dangerous, hostile, or aggressive, each examining it within its own unique spectrum. Deep within the Spheres, she was supported by several packs of scouts led by powerful spirits, who kept watch for a possible “ambush from below”—when there is nothing in the physical world, but deep within the Spheres, a penetration brigade lies in wait, sleeping yet observing the process of uninvited guests breaking through. According to Maega, aside from Akshtar himself, at most three or four of his people would be capable of employing such a tactic; even among shamans, it is a rarely used and highly risky maneuver that requires one’s own retinue of spirits and special properties of the spiritual body.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 15:50

And the intelligence unit led by de Lomer and Sulsham Bey kept all these individuals under surveillance; none of them, it seemed, could possibly be here. However, far from objecting to Stepan’s paranoia and overcaution, she did everything in her power to help him, sharing both his paranoia and his desire to keep them all safe. So the packs of seekers—one resembling a hybrid of fish and moths, and the other completely shapeless, occasionally merging into a single entity to form a quasi-elder spirit with extremely unpleasant aspects—are searching; the ominous jellyfish is searching; a very dark call, which, however, has been satisfied with three white lambs and a white bull.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 15:53

Naturally white, not altered by chimerology or a biomancer’s interference with the embryo—which is important. Equally important is the fact that Maega wiped the eyes right out of the sockets of that smartass who tried to sell a modified bull to an experienced shaman, as if with sandpaper. She even showed mercy, by the way—her colleagues at the trade mission (not a noble house, but a conglomerate of several families aspiring to nobility) later strangled the blind man themselves and gleefully divided his estate, using that very estate to pay the fines. All joking aside—this incident can be considered the scam of the year—or at least the season—in the category of “what a fucking moron”!

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 16:00

Even a classical mage couldn’t be deceived in this way; an experienced ritualist would almost certainly have noticed signs of interference. But a shaman? One for whom the very essence of her gift lies in detecting such deviations in the spiritual reflection of future offerings? And one so experienced, at that? And then, when she was caught red-handed and given the chance to save face, she even tried to combine her own meager gift with the priceless Lortan relic amulet to make him believe her? A senior shaman protected by a shield? That’s a joke, not an attempt at fraud. Although, to be fair, if it weren’t for the new knowledge from the system—which, incidentally, also “brought the old knowledge up to the proper standards”—there might have been a chance of pulling one over on that jerk.

Camrad_RIP 03.10.26 в 16:02