Готовый перевод Страж Империи / Guardian of the Empire: Глава 2

Chapter 2
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Trim the Rat's low house, huddled among its taller brothers in Greasy Dead End, still struck us with its squalid appearance. The facade had never been renovated, the roof was dilapidated, the front door was cracked and dirty-gray. At first glance, it looked like some kind of den, not the home of a wealthy person. And inside, everything was squalid and dismal. The varnish on the furniture was peeling, the carpets were dirty and worn through with holes. Even a junkman would disdain such junk.

"Karridan Steini," Trim said with a hint of satisfaction. He glanced at me and continued his unsuccessful attempts to rub a red stain in the corner of some iron tray or mirror with his thumb. "What brings you to my Creator-forsaken hole?"

“Oh, just a small money matter,” I replied, looking at the moneylender, who had noticeably gained weight since our last meeting.

"Does the Magistrate pay the foremen poorly?"

I was amazed by Trim's incredible powers of observation. He saw everything he needed to in a short moment.

"No, not bad. Only when will it come, this salary?"

"And what do you want from me?" the moneylender grumbled grumpily. "To give you a salary?"

“No,” I chuckled. “I urgently need ten gold coins.”

“Don’t you need to date the Emperor’s daughter?” Trim asked seriously, putting his piece of iron aside.

"I wouldn't refuse such an option," I admitted. "But just money will do."

"Why do you need so much?" Trim asked, putting his hands together and tapping his fingers.

"This is a lucky opportunity," I explained, rubbing the new badge with my sleeve cuff. "I received a temporary appointment, and I'm counting on turning it into a permanent one. I just need to bribe someone in the Magistrate."

"That's reasonable," Trim responded approvingly to my idea and asked, "And if the deal falls, how will you repay the debt? You'll have to save up that amount for a very long time."

"No need," I shook my head. "The promotion is a trifle. I have a big bonus waiting for me. Haven't heard about the commotion at the Eastern Gate yet? How did we chase away the smugglers there?"

“I’ve heard some rumors,” the moneylender said thoughtfully and asked, “For how long do you want to borrow?”

"Well..." Pretending to be doing some calculations, I looked up at the ceiling and then said, "For three decades. While the treasury evaluates everything and issues a bonus..."

"Okay, then you'll owe two gold coins on top of the borrowed ten."

"Have some conscience, Trim!" I was indignant. "Honestly, they take a fifth share per year, not per month."

"Go to the moneylender's office," Trim suggested indifferently, shrugging his shoulders. "But I have different rates. For the risk."

“It’s still too much,” I noted sullenly. “Before, you took a tenth share.”

"My percentage depends on the circumstances. The larger the sum and the more serious the risk, the higher the percentage. Oh well, you're a reliable person, you've never let me down before, so be it - I'll knock off five silver coins."

"Ten," I decided to insist on my own. "Or I will never come to you again. And I will dissuade all my friends from contacting you."

"Twelve," Trim said, looking at me with a grin. "And I'm making this concession only out of the kindness of my heart and respect for the valiant guard."

"Damn you," I cursed and waved my hand.

Smiling contentedly, the moneylender pulled out a drawer of his desk and pulled out a skinny velvet purse.

"Here you go," he threw it to me.

Having loosened the strings, I made sure that I had received exactly ten gold roldos. Nodding, I said goodbye to this money-grubber.

"Just don't forget to pay on time," Trim said after me as I left the room. "Unless you want to meet my cute rats."

Hints at the persistent rumors circulating in town that he feeds debtors to these vile rodents so that no traces are left.

"Uh-huh," I muttered, not turning around, so as not to show the grin that had appeared on my face. "It's terrifying. It would be. If only I weren't going to die in three days."

Carefully closing the door behind me, the rusty hinges of which made a piercing creak, I went out into the street. The stuffiness fell again. However, the mood after the successful scam was elevated, which allowed me to ignore the incredible heat.

“Well?” Roald and Veld asked, hiding from the sun in the shade of the balcony of the corner house.

"Trim approved of our plans for the upcoming fun and contributed to their implementation," I replied with a smile.

"How much did you get?" asked Roald.

"Ten gold pieces."

"Kar, are you crazy?!" Veld twirled his finger at his temple. The amount named stunned him. "With that kind of money, the entire guard could party for decades! And how much would we have to pay back later?"

"Do you think you did the right thing?" Roald looked at me carefully, understanding my plan.

"It is not for nothing that the Holy Fathers say in their sermons: Do not do evil to your neighbor, for you will be rewarded for it doubly,” I answered. “That’s how it turned out…”

I wanted to say that Trim had made five gold pieces off my needs, but had lost ten because of it, but, glancing sideways at Veld, I remained silent.

"Where do we go next?" Roald sighed, waving his hand. "To other moneylenders?"

“No,” I thought and shook my head. “Let’s go to your place?”

"Why?" Roald was surprised.

"I want to ask Triss to sew me some new clothes," I shared my thoughts with the foreman. Rubbing my stomach, I added, "And let's eat at the same time!"

"Oh, that's it," Veld supported me. No wonder - Roald's wife cooks so well that you'll lick your fingers after trying her cooking.

"Very well," laughed Roald. "Come on, you gluttons."

"We'll just go through the shopping district," I decided.

Triss will buy the material herself if I can convince her to take on the job, but I still need to go shopping. Buy some presents for Lina and Troy. I have plenty of money, so why not do something nice for the kids?

Veld also thought it was not right to visit empty-handed and supported me. Roald had to resign himself to the necessity of making a considerable detour on the way to his house. In general, having learned about the misfortune that had befallen me, he became surprisingly restrained. Previously, he would have pulled us to his place, without regard for any customs or decency.

"Roald?" Triss was surprised by the unexpected appearance of guests in the house. "You're on duty until the evening, aren't you?"

And the kids, without even thinking about why their father had returned home so early, rushed to him. Then to me. They know that I almost always try to grab something interesting for them. Sometimes multi-colored glass balls, sometimes a toy. But they certainly didn’t expect a whole box of funny trinkets from Uncle Kar…

"You shouldn't have spent money, Kar," Triss shook her head, smiling. She had already managed to talk quietly with her husband. "I would have made you a new suit anyway. I don't have any urgent orders right now." And she carefully took the teddy bear from the children who were arguing over the toy. But they immediately took another one from the box.

“It’s okay, let them play,” I reassured Triss.

“Okay,” said Roald’s wife and asked, “So when do you need a new outfit?”

"Preferably tomorrow."

"Wow! Can't you wait?"

I smiled a little sadly and spread my hands:

"Alas, no."

"Well, fine. If I try, I can make it in time," Triss decided. "I have your measurements, and I think you need a suit that's not like the magistrates' officials."

"No, no," I quickly shook my head. "Not this nightmare of heavy velvet with lace! A regular, good suit, so that you wouldn't be ashamed to go into a noble house." Taking a gold roldo from my purse, I gave it to Triss: "Here, this is for material."

"You're not thinking of getting married, are you, Kar?" Triss suspected something was wrong. "You don't just throw that kind of money away on ordinary clothes."

"No way?" Veld, who had been silent for a long time, could not resist. "Before getting married, you need to meet at least someone! I have already set him up with so many people, and he still turns up his nose!"

Triss laughed and invited us to dine. We readily agreed. Veld lives with his relatives, but I rarely get home-cooked food. The Herring has the same fish every day, and cooking for myself is a lost cause. Unless you eat in a decent tavern, no salary would be enough for that.

For a while, I even forgot about my trouble. We ate deliciously, drank a glass of wine. Good... But everything ends sooner or later. I rested a little - and that's enough.

We walked back to the police station slowly. And silently. We were too lazy to talk after a hearty lunch. Veld, however, didn't last long. He began to spin tales about his adventures in the port quarter. He took advantage of the fact that we didn't want to wag our tongues and dispute his words, so he began to tell such tales. But in fact, if even a tenth of the stories he told are true, then he should be given a monument in his lifetime. For his services to the fatherland.

Of course, he's lying. He doesn't go to the port quarter alone at night, even though he lives right next door. And the ships from Numia, with female crews, call on us so rarely that you'd be tired of waiting for such joy.

So, listening to Veld's chatter, we reached the square. Looking at the big clock on the tower rising above the magistrate, I gasped. Almost four hours had passed completely unnoticed.

"Shall we sit at the office?" Roald asked me. "Or should we go somewhere else? It's still a long way until evening."

I, looking at the carriage passing by, scratched the back of my head and slowly turned to the foreman, throwing out with annoyance:

"We are such idiots! Why did we work out our legs when we could have comfortably ridden where we needed to go? And it would have taken much less time…"

"What does this have to do with us?" Veld was offended. "We weren't given such bonuses to ride in cabs."

“Okay, let’s hush it up,” I said on the go, heading towards Belli Street, or more precisely, towards the carriage yard located there.

It worked out well. We managed to intercept a free cab before the rich people from the central quarter ordered it for evening rides around the city. The fat cats will do. It won't hurt them to shake off some fat. And if they are really lazy, let them take a carriage. And we will take the open summer cab with a canvas top to protect from the sun.

It's not worth showing up at the council office before eight o'clock in the evening. What's the point of sitting there if the commandant only starts causing trouble at dusk? Just driving around the city is more interesting than sitting in one place and waiting, waiting. And it's better to sort out all the business today, and spend the remaining two days enjoying yourself without worries and troubles.

I gave the driver a bonus on top of the amount I had paid the coachman. He immediately stopped grumbling about driving in such heat and fully approved of my proposed route. Roald and Veld were willing to go anywhere anyway.

The first thing we did was visit the shopping district. There, I picked up some trinkets and grabbed a couple of bottles of old, rare wine. And then we went to my teachers with the gifts. So that they wouldn't remember me with a bad word later.

And so the day flew by. And although we weren't moving on our own two feet, we were terribly tired.

In the evening, we had a bite to eat at the 'Golden Spoon' on the square near the magistrate. After sunset, we showed up at the council. Veld immediately asked Roald for half an hour off and disappeared somewhere, and we went up to the centurion's office. We settled in there and began to wait.

Not for long, fortunately. The night had barely come into its own when the show began. The first fireball, flying in from the port with a wild howl and exploding with a deafening roar over the magistrate, made us shudder.

Looking through the window at the fiery rain falling on the roofs of the buildings, Timir became alarmed:

"Sir Roderick has drunk himself into oblivion again! I asked him not to launch his fireworks over the central part of Kelm!"

"We need to check here, too, how things are with fire protection," Roald chuckled. "Not only should the port residents suffer."

"There is no point in covering the roofs with inflammable stuff across the city code!" Timur responded to the remark.

And I chuckled. Even completely wooden houses would be a pain to set on fire with regular fireworks. The military commandant uses combat magic – that’s the whole problem. At least he doesn’t fire at specific targets to burn down half the city for sure. Even without that, the 'Tears of Fire' he uses as fireworks will set more than one building on fire.

The fact that Sir Roderick's salute had affected the central quarter greatly accelerated the matter. A messenger from the Magistrate galloped up demanding that the atrocities of the veteran of the Battle of Meran be stopped immediately. And of course, he brought a letter certified by the city council and the mayor. There was no other way. The only way to deal with the commandant was to issue a decree to put the city under martial law. After all, in order to be able to fully perform his official duties, Sir Roderick had to be sober. And he was forced to take a hangover potion.

“Kar, let’s go,” Roald touched my shoulder.

I came to my senses and took the paper Timir was handing me.

"Where are you wandering?" The centurion attacked Veld, who stuck his head into the office.

“Yes, I was away on business…” he tried to justify himself and immediately asked: “So are we going to do something or let the whole city burn?”

We laughed. It was unheard of for Veld to show such zeal for service.

But, leaving the office, Roald still scolded:

"You asked for half an hour off, but were gone much longer. Where have you been?"

"Yes, there was a little business," Veld hesitated. "Especially since I wasn't late. As soon as the first blow hit, I was already at the office."

“Let’s go to the Shell,” I said to the cabbie, who was staring at the fiery flashes, as I climbed into the carriage.

"But you, Kar, don't go nuts..." Veld asked, looking warily at the festive fireworks. "Otherwise, the commandant will get angry and give us a hard time... And we won't have time to escape."

“You’ll stay on the street if you’re so afraid,” I decided.

"How can I leave you in a difficult moment?!" My friend got worried.

"Of course!" Roald snorted, barely holding back his laughter. "There will be free drinks there!"

"So what?" Veld was offended and muttered, turning away: "They pour free drinks at the Herring too, but I didn’t stay there."

"So that's what you were doing!" Roald said angrily. "I suppose you want to spend your next shift on the wall?"

"And what about me?" Veld said, embarrassed, having accidentally blurted out something too much. "I came in for the sake of the cause to check if Garth was holding back on his beer."

There were few people on the streets, and those who came out huddled against the walls and gathered under the balconies. They admired the show put on by Sir Roderick, while worrying about where the next blow of the fiery element would fall. Perhaps it would be their houses…

The cab driver turned out to be smart. He understood why we were going to the Shell. Hurrying up the horses, he quickly carried us to the port quarter. The Shell is an excellent tavern, better only than the Black Pearl. But this establishment is mostly frequented by nobles and rich merchants. Sir Roderick, although he received a hereditary title from the emperor, remembers that he came from the common people, and does not disdain simpler taverns.

"Someone's already lucky!" Veld chuckled, pointing at the craftsman crawling along the sidewalk.

Got himself into trouble, poor guy. He accidentally ended up in the same pub where Sir Roderick started celebrating the memorable day. So he had to drink until he dropped. Otherwise, he couldn't leave. Unless, of course, he wanted to anger the commandant and try some vile spell on himself. Only pregnant ladies are allowed to leave on their own two feet.

"Well, Creator save us," Roald sighed as we climbed out of the cab.

A small crimson-red ball flew out of the open window of the Shell and soared upward, swelling in flight. Veld immediately moved to the very tail of our tiny squad. As if that would help him if the magical blow fell on us.

Having climbed up to the porch, I pushed the door of the Shell, which opened both inwards and outwards, so that the owner would not have to repair it daily due to the mistakes of drunken visitors. Inside was as quiet as in a morgue. No noise or drunken revelry. Most of the visitors who were in the Shell at the time of Sir Roderick's arrival did not stand the challenge and were sleeping. Some on benches, some even on the floor. Only the strongest remained and now sat silently at the same table with Sir Roderick. The battle mage of the second stage of initiation of the spheres of Air and Fire settled down near the window.

"Here come our valiant guards!" the commandant laughed hollowly, noticing us. "Quickly, quickly!" And he waved his hand invitingly: "Come and have a drink with us."

Clutching the papers in my left hand, I approached the rather youthful-looking Sir Roderick. A magician. That's it. Even at ninety, he looks like others at forty.

Stepping over the snoring and snoring visitors of the “Shell” sprawled on the floor, I hesitated a little. Someone sitting with the commandant had managed to fill their goblets. Sir Roderick stood up and, holding onto the edge of the table so as not to fall, since he was being tossed from side to side, said, looking at us:

"Let's drink to those fine fellows who remained on the Meranian Plain, so that we can now live in peace!"

The lovers of free booze supported their leader for the day with a roar of approval and immediately thrust a huge cup filled to the brim into our hands. And Sir Roderick, squinting, stared at me. It seemed he had prepared everything specially. It was impossible to refuse: it was not humane not to raise a cup for the fallen. And according to the regulations, it is forbidden to drink intoxicating beverages on duty. Sir Roderick could not help but know this.

But I have nothing to lose. So what if the commandant determines some punishment for violating the "City Guard" regulations? I'll give no fuck with such a setup and calmly go home. He won't kill me anyway. And let them kick me out of the guard.

Taking a sip from the cup, I grimaced and, holding my breath, closed my eyes. I had a hard time not coughing. The trap was not in the offer, but in the drink itself. Juniper. Infused with pure spiritus, as Tier Eldar says. And there was probably no less than a quarter of a liter in the cup…

Sir Roderick gave us a real test, like the ones all the guards have to go through every year. Perhaps even more difficult in some ways.

Having emptied the cup and put it on the table, I caught my breath and shook my head. Terrible. If I swallowed such portions of booze, I really would have to crawl out of here.

"Gromar, repeat," Sir Roderick ordered, not even wincing after drinking the juniper. And, fixing his gaze on me, he proclaimed: "And now let us drink to our sovereign! Many years to the Emperor!"

"Kar, don't sleep!" Veld hissed, poking me in the side, seeing that I was staring at the newly filled cup. "If you don't drink to the Emperor, the Security Service will immediately pin treason on you!"

"Oh, come on!" I said decisively, putting the cup thrust at me on the table. The last thing I needed was to lose half of the remaining two days lying drunk under a bench. Or suffer with a headache for another day after taking a sobering potion. They specially make us drunk, filling the cups to the brim, and only splashing out a little for themselves.

Having handed the papers to the commandant, I said:

"Sir Roderick, Martial Law has been declared in Kelm by decree of the City Council. Please familiarize yourself with this decree."

“Well, well…” Sir Roderick said, squinting and taking the letter.

Having read it carefully and made sure that the paper was drawn up correctly and could not be disputed by citing inaccuracies, he sighed regretfully. Roald immediately pushed me aside and handed the commandant a small bottle of hangover potion.

We moved away from the table and turned away so as not to disturb Sir Roderick as he tidied himself up. The potion made his face so twisted that it was scary to look at.

"Gromar!" The commandant's displeased roar was heard. "Drive the carriage here, we'll go check the city's readiness for military action!" And, apparently, for our sake, Sir Roderick added: "Let's start, perhaps, with the Guards!"

We exchanged glances and turned to face Sir Roderick, pretending to be loyal servants. Now, all three Departments and the townspeople from the registered militia are completely dependent on his will. It's a good thing it's only for a day. Otherwise, Kelm would have had a hard time...

"So..." the commandant drawled, looking from Roald to Veld. "Where are your badges, guards? Have you already drunk them away?"

"No, your grace, we didn’t drink it away!" Veld blurted out.

“What, you didn’t make it in time?” the commandant smiled wryly.

"The badges are handed in at the end of the shift, your grace," Roald explained.

“Ah, so we only have one guard on duty,” the commandant drawled, losing interest in my companions, and turned to me: “Yes, the foreman?”

“Yes, sir,” I nodded.

“I don’t really remember you,” Sir Roderick said, looking at me thoughtfully. “What did you say your name was?”

"Karridan Steini."

"No, I have never heard of such a foreman of the Kelm guard,” Sir Roderick shook his head regretfully and asked, “And why did you drink on duty?”

//"As if you didn't know!" - a sarcastic remark almost slipped from my lips. He forced me to drink, and now he was blaming me for that. But, holding back my indignation, I made a calm face and declared:

"I haven't drunk a drop today!"

Sir Roderick was taken aback by this statement. He looked at the cups on the table in surprise and then stared at me. Then he frowned and asked:

"Are you kidding?"

"No way," I shrugged. "People get drunk for pleasure, but I used booze as a medicine."

Hiding a malicious grin, I stared at the ceiling. You won't prove me wrong. Everything is according to the rules and regulations. And if you have a question about who invented this medicine, ask Tier Eldar.

"And what are you trying to cure yourself of?" the commandant squinted. "Could it be a hangover?"

"Karridan was hurt in the incident at the east gate today, your grace," Roald interjected. "That's why he was given a temporary promotion. So he could meet you."

"And what happened at the gate?"

"A dark mage has been caught!" Roald reported laconically. "He tried to smuggle contraband into the city, but when he was discovered, he resisted."

"Are there any losses?" Sir Roderick frowned.

Only Kar was hurt. The others got off with scratches.

"What's got you, guard?" Sir Roderick asked me quickly.

“Tier Olm said the mage used the Breath of Harm,” I answered quietly, so that only Sir Roderick could hear.

"What a nasty thing!" The commandant cursed through his teeth and looked at me sullenly, playing with his jaw muscles.

"What, no chance?" I smiled wryly, understanding everything from the face of the most powerful Kelm magician.

"I can’t heal you," Sir Roderick admitted the obvious. "I have a slightly different specialization after all…" He shook his head and winced: “That’s it. I’m not thinking clearly right now, nothing useful comes to mind. And I should probably dig through the books… Let’s do it this way. Tomorrow at noon, I’ll be expecting you at my house. Maybe by then a solution to your problem will have been found.”

“Okay, I’ll come,” I promised. “Thank you.”

“No problem for now,” Sir Roderick waved his hand and asked, “Will you find my house?”

"I will, no worries," I answered.

"Then don't be late," warned the commandant and turned to his men: "What are we sitting around for? Run and get yourselves in order! Otherwise, because of you, we won't have time to check all the units!"

Having said a short farewell to us, Sir Roderick left the tavern, and the company sitting at the table tumbled out after him. We surveyed the disorder reigning in the room and also decided to leave the sleepy kingdom. Let someone else bring the drunks to their senses.

"You're such an ass, Kar!" Veld said, going outside and making sure that the commandant had already left for the office. "Was it hard to drink the second cup? You made us walk on the edge!" And then he asked curiously: "And what is this 'Breath of Harm' you were discussing, from which you need to be cured?"

"It's a terrible thing," I drawled, making a sad face. "It stops the body from absorbing spiritus. And that's it, no more pleasure from drinking! And the worst thing is that this nasty thing is contagious!"

Veld blinked, opened his mouth, then slammed it shut. He snorted angrily and, without saying a word, sat down in the cab. And turned his face away.

"Oh, come on, stop sulking," Roald nudged him with his shoulder. "Kar's just had enough of this 'Breath of Harm' today."

"Oh, screw him," Veld grumbled. "He can't even come up with funny jokes."

“It’s not fun,” I muttered and, rubbing my forehead, decided to tell my friend the truth: “You’ll be heading back to the gates in three days, and I’ll be heading to the cemetery… I’ll be standing guard there…”

"You're kidding," Veld said incredulously, turning to face me and glancing sideways at Roald. He nodded, confirming my words.

"That’s how it is,” I said, throwing up my hands and smiling sadly.

"Why didn’t you tell me right away?" Veld was indignant and, waving his hand in annoyance, muttered: "And I’m here like a fool…"

"But you're not a healer," Roald noted. "How can you help Kar? That's why we didn't tell you, so as not to spoil anyone's mood."

"That's not how we do things," Veld snorted. "You don't keep things from your comrades... Whether it's good or bad."

"Just try to tell anyone about it! I'll come running from the graveyard to you!" I threatened, alarmed.

“I’ll keep quiet,” Veld said, looking at me sullenly. “So, is there really no way to get rid of this nastiness?”

"You heard it. Sir Roderick said to visit him tomorrow. Maybe he’ll find something worthwhile in his books. Or maybe not…"

Having fallen silent, I began to look at the houses rushing past us. Not the most interesting activity, but there was nothing else to do. Neither I nor my companions wanted to chat. They did so because they did not know what to talk about with me or how to cheer up a suicide bomber, and I simply did not want to.

When we pulled up to the Herring, I was amazed by the noise and hubbub coming from the tavern. The stone walls shook from the shouts and laughter. It felt like the building was occupied by a horde of demons who had learned about the free booze and decided to throw a party in honor of it.

But there was no need to call the inquisitor for help. All of our own had gathered – the Kelm guards. Mostly quite drunk, but still able to stand on their feet. However, there were unexpectedly many people… Almost fifteen tens. Almost all of them were free shifts.

"Oh, here come our foremen! The old one and the new one!" Tim shouted and waved his hand: "Come on!"

Our ten reunited at the table. But of course, we weren't allowed to sit quietly. They demanded that we tell them how we clashed with the dark mage at the gate. Neither Steve nor Tim could explain anything clearly. We had to hire Veld for this matter. And he didn't let us down. He composed an epic about the battle with the dark forces that were encroaching on our peaceful town. Like everyone else, I laughed until I cried, listening to his fables, and forgot about my troubles for a while. And this red-haired scoundrel kept raising toasts, so we got drunk quite a bit.

"A glorious story," Olaf praised Veld as he approached us. He was holding a bundle in his hands. "So, Karridan was promoted for good reason." He moved some of the dishes off the table, placed an oblong object wrapped in unbleached linen on it, and boomed: "Own it, foreman."

“A gift to you from the Brotherhood of Kelm Guards,” Veld explained, although I understood what was going on.

Having cut the strings with a knife, I unfolded the canvas and was stunned. An arrow thrower. Not the usual grey and rather crudely made machine that is in service with the guards, but something comparable to a work of art... The butt of the precious mahogany is varnished. All working metal parts are polished white steel. The casing and sides are made of scarlet silver with an applied pattern. And the clip is something else altogether... Made of transparent tempered glass, pulled together at the corners by a steel frame. Inside, five silver arrows with bluish sparkles of agate on the tips are visible.

"Blessed Moonsilver!" Olaf told me proudly. "The best remedy against dark creatures and their masters! And the crystal tips carry the 'Blades of Light'. They are, of course, created to pierce the protective aura of various monsters, but I think they are also quite suitable for hunting enemy mages. A good weapon. And just right for a shooter like you.

“Thank you,” I said, swallowing the viscous lump that had formed in my throat.

What a glorious brotherhood we have, what can I say? How much money did they spend to present such a gift?

"Don't worry, you haven't led us into embezzlement," Olaf smiled and clapped me on the shoulder, catching the unspoken question in my gaze. "This toy has been gathering dust in my warehouse for a long time, waiting for its time. We put it up for a quick bargain among our own and bought it at a reasonable price. Only we still had to persuade Tier Olm to update the magic component."

After the gift was presented, the party began to escalate. The drinks I ordered were not enough for such a crowd, and I had to buy another barrel of beer and wine. However, money for a good cause is not a pity. Especially other people's money.

After midnight, when everyone started to go home, we left too. We woke up the dozing cabby and went to my place. My guardians and. Or protectors. The demon will sort them out. In short, defenders of glorious Kelm and its respectable citizens from the terrible me. Although I didn’t seem to have planned anything that could leave a terrible memory behind me…

Having told Fry to pick us up before sunrise and rewarded him with another silver coin, we all came to my place. My house is not small – there was room for everyone. Roald got the guest room, Veld made himself comfortable on the sofa in the living room, and I finally made it to my bed…

From the report of As-Tarkh Covan to the head of the Security Department, Count de Noel, dated the third day of the sixteenth decade of the year four hundred and fifty-seven:

…It is obvious that our protégé suspected something, since there is no other way to explain such a sudden change in the method of transporting contraband cargo. Now, after the uproar that has arisen, we can expect that all the threads leading to the head of this hydra will be cut. The chances of catching the traitor red-handed are becoming completely illusory. The only clue is the amount paid by the adepts of the Dark Coven. Undoubtedly, the high patron of the smugglers will be blamed for the loss of the cargo and will be required to return the money. Let's hope that the traitor will be forced to take some action that will allow us to expose him.

Overall, I must admit that it was only thanks to the impeccable work of the guards that we were able to detect the contraband cargo. Therefore, I am petitioning for an award for the distinguished guards. And I ask that Karridan Steini, the main hero of the events, who destroyed the dark henchman, be presented for the award of the Order of the "Guardian of the Empire" of the third degree. Posthumously.

* * *

"Oh-oh..." I groaned, clutching my head with my palms, and carefully opened one eye. And then I closed my eyes again, blinded by the bright sunbeams penetrating the room. I forgot to close the window shutter yesterday.

Having finally woken up, I jumped up in bed and immediately fell back, choking from a flash of piercing pain. A skull splitting into pieces is still a familiar thing after a serious drinking bout, but fiery needles piercing the chest are no joke.

Having caught my breath, I stood up carefully and, swaying, approached the window. I took only five steps, but how difficult they were... If I don't improve my health urgently, then it would be better for me to die right now, rather than suffer for two more days.

Looking at the cab standing at the porch with the driver dozing on, I shouted, or rather wheezed:

"Fry!"

“Ah?!” The cab driver jumped up and turned his head.

"What Ah?" I asked angrily, clearing my throat. "When was dawn? Couldn't you knock?"

"So I knocked. I pounded on the door so hard that the house shook. And I screamed," Fry assured me, rubbing his sleepy eyes with the back of his hand. "Only I didn't get through. And your neighbors promised to throw slop on me if I don't stop screaming here at the crack of dawn. So I'm waiting quietly."

"Okay, one moment," I promised, having calmed down. What can I do now - I can't bring back the time that's gone by.

I walked up to the old mirror in a massive dark wooden frame standing by the far wall and looked at my reflection. Creepy. I was afraid I might be mistaken for a ghoul who had crawled out of the graveyard. Disheveled and rumpled. My face was as white as white… And there was no tan. Dark gray bags under my eyes and bloodshot eyes – expressive strokes to the portrait of a hopeless drunk. And you can’t prove to anyone that you only sat there for an evening and didn’t drink for a good decade.

I waved my hand at my reflection and turned away. I didn't even want to look at such a mug. I slapped my way to the door. As I walked, I grabbed the weapon belt lying on the rug, but I overestimated my acrobatic abilities. When I straightened up, I was pulled to the side and almost knocked over that stupid Loim vase standing on the pedestal by the wall. I should have thrown it out a long time ago or given it to someone as a gift. It was no use anyway. Well, let it stay now. Maybe Roald and Triss will find a use for it when the house goes to them.

"Veld, are you alive?" I called my friend from the top of the stairs.

“I don’t know,” he groaned after a while.

When I went downstairs, I found two half-empty bottles of wine on the table by the stairs and immediately grabbed the closest one. I took a sip and immediately felt better. It was a real healing potion, not wine.

"Give me a sip too," Veld moaned, opening his eyes. Pulling his shaking hand out from under the pillow, he extended it toward me.

It took at least a quarter of an hour to recover. But we perked up, and life stopped seeming so dull. True, I continued to be bothered by flashes of pain in my chest, but I had to put up with it.

"Kar, where did you want to go at dawn?" Roald asked. "I somehow forgot..."

“No way now,” I waved my hand in annoyance. “We overslept.”

“We were going to the port,” Veld recalled. “To sit on the open balcony of the Black Pearl and look at the sea."

"We'll go to the Office," I said, carefully touching the cocoon wrapping around my body. "I need to drop in on Tier Eldar."

“If we have to, then we have to,” Roald rose decisively from his chair.

Fry must have decided that we were late for something started to drive so fast that my eyes popped out of my head. It felt like my chest was being hit with a club on every stone that jutted out from the pavement. And this was only the first day… What would happen next? Would I really have to lie motionless and whine in pain?

Getting out of the cab near the Police Station, Veld asked why I was so gloomy. What can I say? Citing excessive drinking, I winked at my friend and, overtaking him, walked forward.

"How are you, Kar?" Asked the healer, who was there.

“Oh, so-so,” I shrugged. “My head hurts a little, and my chest is on fire.”

“That’s nothing, we’ll fix it now,” Tier Eldar reassured me, pouring some lilac potion from a bottle into a glass.

Having swallowed the composition that burned my throat, I began to cough. And with surprise, I felt how quickly the pain that was bothering me subsided. Our healer is simply a genius of his craft.

"And just in case," said Tier Eldar. Having poured an additional portion of the potion into the flask, he handed it to me: "Here you go. If things get really bad, take it. But try to get by with something simpler, at least the same wine. Or something like 'Elven Dust'..."

"Can't you make more of the potion?" Roald asked, coughing to attract attention. "What use would you have for all this junk?"

"This is an experimental potion," the healer explained, shaking his head sadly. "It is very strong and at the same time safe for health. But there are some shortcomings... In particular, there is an addictive effect... And the third dose of painkiller taken in a row will not ease Kar's suffering. Therefore, it is better to delay using this potion for as long as possible. And until then, use other means."

I shrugged and smiled wryly:

"What's the problem? I'm not in danger of getting hooked on dope anyway. So why not?" And he thanked the old healer: "Thank you, Tier Eldar."

"No problem, no problem," the old man waved his hands. "When else would such an excellent opportunity arise for a thorough testing of my potion!"

Looking at my gloomy face, the healer quickly suppressed his joy and, embarrassedly lowering his gaze, began to fussily rearrange the bottles on the table.

“Well then, let’s go,” Roald broke the silence that hung in the doctor’s room.

"Yes, go," Tier Eldar nodded with relief and said after me: "But if things get really bad, Karridan, come to me right away. I have some other ideas on how to relieve your pain."

I nodded. What else could I do? I would have to become a test subject in experiments if that was going to help in any way.

"So where next?" Roald asked me with exaggerated cheerfulness, pushing me towards the door. "Maybe we'll stop by my place, have a proper meal, and then go to the commandant?"

"No, probably not," I said, thinking for a moment as I walked. "We'll go to the shopping lines. There'll be somewhere to grab a bite to eat there."

“What are you planning to buy?” Veld asked.

“Nothing,” I replied, climbing into the cab. “We’ll just take a ride just like that.”

"Okay. If just like that, then just like that," the usually very inquisitive Veld did not press further.

Apparently, it is noticeable that I feel lousy at heart and have no mood for chatter. Some kind of dull melancholy has rolled over me... I want to howl... This is probably how hunted animals feel: wherever you rush, there is death everywhere...

With an incredible effort of will, overcoming apathy and indifference to life, I bit my lip. I have two days. And a little hope for Sir Roderick. We'll flounder some more.

Fry got us there pretty quickly, despite the morning crowds on the streets adjacent to the market square. It seems he wants to get another silver coin or two from us, so he tries to show his diligence.

I told Fray to stop near Oil Street, which leads from the square toward the port, and got out of the cab. I glanced briefly at the noisy crowd bustling about the market stalls and approached the corner house. Running my hand over the chipped stones, I turned toward the bakery and squinted. Everything was almost the same as it had been a decade and a half ago. Only now it was not the voluptuous Longa who was selling the goods, but her daughter-in-law. Although you couldn't tell them apart at first glance, if you didn't pay attention to their faces. Otherwise, it was the same hustle and bustle, townspeople rushing about their business, and the amazing smell of delicious buns...

I ran my hand across my face and smiled wryly, remembering how I had stood by this wall, swallowing my saliva, looking at the ruddy sides of the huge buns with raisins. I couldn't take my eyes off the seemingly miraculous vision of baked goods... I was so hungry... The storms had just started raging before, and there was practically nothing to profit from in the port. Neither fishermen with their catch nor traders appeared on the streets... Then hunger drove me to the market square. Here I could try to get at least some food. Steal, pilfer, or beg for something edible... But not buy. Because where could a homeless boy get money? Steal? You still have to be able to do that. And it's too dangerous... Earn money? But who needs a six-year-old worker?..

However, I remember I wasn't thinking about it then. I was swallowing my saliva, looking at the buns, and trying to put the stubborn spider in a homemade slingshot to launch it onto the counter. It was a huge beast, the size of my palm at the time. A grey-black hairy spider... I so hoped that at least this monster would scare the baker and make her forget about the goods for a moment. The first attempt with a live mouse, unfortunately, failed...

And when a heavy hand fell on my shoulder, I myself almost died of fear. I turned around and froze, looking at the huge armored guard, so similar to the dashing port people, with this crooked scar running across his left eyebrow, and a face overgrown with many days of stubble.

"What are you doing here?" the guard, who had quietly approached me from behind, asked in a stern voice.

Frozen with horror, I even forgot that I hadn’t done anything bad yet, and blurted out the first thing that came to mind:

"I want to sell a spider..."

"Oh, you really have some fine merchandise!" the guard laughed, noticing my furry monster. He patted me on the head and said, "Well, that's nice. I thought you wanted to steal something."

Taking a copper coin out of his purse, he gave it to me for the spider. Twice as much as the largest bun with raisins costs…

Sighing, I shook my head in annoyance. How many years have passed, but these memories remain as clear and vivid as the day after my first meeting with the foreman of the Kelm guard, Laen Steini. Who later replaced my unknown parents…

Lightly tapping the wall with a clenched fist, I turned around and resolutely moved towards the cab. What was past was past. Let's see what happens next.

"Let's stop by the Black Pearl for a bite to eat," I said to my companions. "We'll have just enough time to get there and back before noon."

"As you say, Kar," Roald and Veld responded in unison.

“Come on, Fry, drive to the port quarter,” I ordered the cab driver, grinning.

Breakfast for three at the Black Pearl cost sixteen silver coins. It was no pity, of course, but what was striking was that they didn’t serve us anything outstanding, but instead charged us a ton of money. For what? After pondering over a bottle of wine, we still couldn’t find an answer to this question.

However, having eaten and drunk, we came to a good-natured mood and waved our hands at the impudent rip-off. We called Fry and went to Sir Roderick.

Having driven up to a three-story mansion with a bunch of turrets on top, they stopped at the locked gates. A wrought-iron fence protected Sir Roderick's property and did not allow passersby to wander around the green lawn in front of the house. Although there would have been a great many people willing to walk on the grass. There are too few houses in the city that have a piece of land to boot. Unfortunately, the fortress walls cannot be pushed apart with magic...

"If only I could live like that," Veld said enviously, looking at the huge mansion.

"Well, maybe in fifty years or so, as a reward for your service, the Magistrate will give you a couple of square feet of land in the central district," Roald chuckled.

"Sure. The most you'll get out of these bureaucrats is a spot in the cemetery,” grumbled my friend.

"Come up to the porch," the gatekeeper ordered, coming out of the booth and unlocking the gate. "They'll meet you there."

And so it happened. The carriage was still crunching on the multi-colored gravel, rolling along the path, and Sir Roderick's servant was already standing on the porch near the column.

“Please, tiers,” he bowed briefly, opened the huge door of the mansion for us, and let us go ahead of him.

Once in the hall, we were a little confused, overwhelmed by the luxury and splendor of the setting. We had never been in a palace before.

"Which one of you is Mr. Steini?" the valet inquired, coughing quietly into his fist.

“It’s me,” I responded.

"Sir Roderick will see you immediately. Alone. And your friends may go into the drawing-room and wait there."

“Okay,” I nodded.

"Follow me," the footman ordered and snapped his fingers. It was unclear what this meant, but another servant in exactly the same white and gold livery immediately materialized next to my companions.

I was escorted to the library, located in the left wing of the building, where I found the owner of the mansion. Sir Roderick was enthusiastically scribbling something on a piece of paper, glancing at the open books in front of him, and did not notice us right away. And at first, I forgot to remind him of my presence. Looking around the large room with high ceilings, filled with shelves containing thousands of books, I opened my mouth in admiration. This was not some small reading room with two or three dozen entertaining books, like those of some city tycoons, but a real library! I wanted to rummage through it!

"Is my collection impressive?" Sir Roderick asked, smiling good-naturedly and waving his hand to send the servant away.

“You bet!” I expressed my admiration with complete sincerity.

"I've been collecting for almost fifty years." There were notes of pride in the noble sir's voice.

I glanced around the library again and nodded respectfully. It's a good thing to collect interesting books.

"Well, we'll talk about that later," apparently remembering my trouble, said the commandant. "Sit down, let's talk about pressing matters."

“Thank you,” I thanked him just in case for the warm welcome, and sat down in a soft chair by the table. And, unable to contain my curiosity, I glanced sideways at the books. I wonder what our commandant is reading…

"And there's nothing to thank me for," Sir Roderick became serious. "I've thought about your problem in my spare time and now I can say with confidence: it's not in my power to cure you."

“Well, I didn’t really count on it,” I sighed in disappointment, immediately losing interest in the folios lying in front of me.

“Alas,” Sir Roderick shook his head regretfully, “healing is not my strong point.” And, looking closely at my joyless face, he added: “But in the books I managed to find a real way to get rid of this curse…”

"And what do you need for this?" I literally perked up.

"The very first thing is your desire," the magician answered. "And you will also need willpower and unshakable faith."

"What kind of method is that?" I asked, puzzled, not understanding a thing. "You can’t be healed just by wishing for it… I’m not some kind of saint."

"One must have the desire to follow this path in order to find deliverance from the filth that is eating away at one's flesh," Sir Roderick explained somewhat vaguely.

It seems our commandant is being secretive... What did he come up with?

"Which way?" I asked, looking intently at the magician who was glaring at me.

“Dark one,” he said, not taking his eyes off me.

My jaw dropped. Wow! The Inquisition had crawled into every nook and cranny, and here heresy is nesting right in the center of the city! It's crazy.

"Oh no, I don't agree to sell my soul to demons," I shook my head, barely coming to my senses after such an unexpected offer. It just doesn't fit in my head: a person respected by everyone, "and, it turns out, he's flirting with the Darkness!"

“And there’s no need,” the magician chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “It would be an unequal deal.”

“Then what do you propose?” I asked, deciding to listen to the end, although my first impulse was to get up and leave.

"Fight for your life," Sir Roderick answered laconically. "In a dangerous game." And after a pause, he added, "I see no other way for you to survive, Karridan. But it is up to you to decide, of course, whether it is worth it or not."

"So what kind of method is this?" I asked after thinking for a bit.

“It stems from your problem, Karridan,” the magician began to explain, clasping his fingers together. “The so-called ‘Breath of Harm’ does not pertain to purely elemental spells. It is rather one of the complex varieties of summoning spells that do not require ritual actions. It rips out a very vile semi-material creature from one of the lower layers of existence and instills it in the victim. Or rather, a whole host of creatures. It is somewhat similar to the most ordinary colony of mold, which is now trying, so to speak, to take root in you. But since the symbiosis of man and this filth is impossible due to the differences in the energy of material carriers, your death is inevitable. You will literally be dissolved... First, this um... mold will feed on your life energy and become more material... It is like introducing a very caustic substance into your body...”

"I think this will be quite a specific pleasure," I muttered, looking sullenly at Sir Roderick. "Can't the priests drive this crap out of my body and send it to the demons?"

"Unfortunately, no," the magician shook his head. "The Breath of Harm was not invented by a fool. This mold has absolutely nothing to do with the struggle between Light and Darkness. It is unreasonable, and therefore practically invulnerable to the power of the holy word. The only thing the holy fathers can do is burn this filth out of you. But the result will be disastrous and exactly the same as if you did nothing at all."

“In general, I'm in deep shit,” I concluded with a sad smile.

"In general, yes," Sir Roderick agreed with my conclusions. "Therefore, I see the only way to save you as an attempt to drive this abomination out of you. By settling a stronger otherworldly entity..."

"Are you kidding?!" I stared at Sir Roderick, dumbfounded. "Of my own free will, get in touch with demons? And stain myself with the Darkness?" I shook my head sharply: "No way!" And after cooling down a bit, I remarked, "What benefit do I gain by exchanging one painful death for another? Do you think it’s better to die at the stake?"

"Have you calmed down?" asked the magician, looking at me calmly. "Then listen. We are not talking about demons. You cannot cope with them. And you will not stain yourself, since the summoning will not be carried out by you. And most importantly, this is a real way to help you." After a short silence to let me think about his words, he continued: "We will implant a lesser imp in you. It is not so dangerous, and it is easy to drive it out even without the help of an exorcist. No harm will happen to you if you act clearly and decisively."

Yeah, it's not dangerous... It's a lost cause to mess with otherworldly creatures. The proverb was invented for just such a case: 'The claw gets stuck - the bird is lost.' Although what else can you do? If the problem can't be solved otherwise...

"Well, if just an imp," I said, scratching the back of my head. "I have to deal with this little rascal."

"If you can't, that's no big deal," Sir Roderick assured. "The main thing is that he helps you. And so let him even expect to continue living in your body. And even against your unwillingness, dictated by the will of the demon, I will drive him out in a couple of days."

"It all sounds quite reasonable," I looked with respect at the noble sir, who had come up with a completely feasible, albeit rather dangerous plan for my salvation. "The only thing is - why would the imp help me? On the contrary, he should be pleased if I die..."

"The temptation to live in our world is too great," the magician explained. "Who are the demons in their world? Just small fry, dragging out a miserable existence. But here they can do whatever they want, having fun to the fullest."

I rubbed my forehead thoughtfully. Sir Roderick was certainly proposing an adventure, but was there another way out? So far, no one but him had suggested anything sensible. And imps are not demons. They do not lay claim to souls and are more likely to be ordinary parasites than true enemies of the human race. In addition, they are weak... They cannot always gain full control over a person, even after years of living in his body, and here it was only two days...

"Well, since there is no other way of healing, then we can try," I decided.

"Well, that's right," Sir Roderick nodded approvingly. "It's the weak who give in to adversity, but the strong must persevere, no matter what."

Taking with him a couple of large folios and a sheet of paper covered with writing, Sir Roderick led me to another part of the house. Somewhere in the right wing of the healthy mansion was the spell chamber.

At first, when we entered the dark room, I even decided that Sir Roderick had ignored the regulations "On the construction of buildings and structures in the city" and that his mansion had a room without windows. However, he is not one of those simple citizens whose houses are simply torn down for such a violation... Only when the commandant lit the lamps by the door, it become clear that there was a window, just covered with thick material that did not let in a single ray of light.

But I no longer cared about the windows. I saw a round stone plate in the very center of the room, and on it a pentagram of Light enclosed in a double ring, glittering with lunar silver. Next to it stood a three-legged stand with a manuscript lying on it, and a large mirror ball hung from the ceiling. The floor beyond the summoning circle was covered with a thick layer of salt. Even the cabinet by the wall stood on this scattering of grayish crystals.

"Do you have any consecrated objects?" The magician inquired casually, placing the books he had brought on the shelf with fewer than ten other volumes.

"I haven't."

“Then stand in the middle of this stone,” Sir Roderick pointed at the pentagram of Light, and he went further, to the cabinet standing by the wall.

Slowly approaching the outer circle of the pentagram, I stopped. Some kind of anxiety penetrated my soul... Sir Roderick is not a demonologist, but he has such a spell-like peace... Why, I ask?

“Make up your mind quickly,” the magician urged me.

I glanced at him, nodded in time with my thoughts, and stepped onto the stone slab. Still, Sir Roderick didn't look like a man who had planned something bad. And there were too many witnesses. You can't shut everyone down. So there was nothing to be afraid of.

Stopping in the inner circle of the pentagram, I turned to face the magician. I wanted to say that I was ready, but it was not necessary. Sir Roderick had already begun to act. A pale blue haze appeared before me, and a deafening silence fell. As if my ears were blocked.

The magician seemed like a fish out of water, mouth gaping silently. Without looking at me, he read aloud the spell from his sheet of paper. But nothing happened. There were no flashes of light, no sounds coming from the other world, no inexplicable horror. None of what is rumored to happen during rituals to summon demonic creatures.

//"It seems that Sir Roderick is not very good at this area of magical art either, since he can't do anything," I only managed to think. The next moment, my legs gave way, as if they had gone numb for a moment. I almost fell. And then the bubble of blue haze that surrounded me disappeared.

“Well?” the magician asked anxiously. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know,” I shrugged, listening to my feelings. “It seems like there’s no imp inside me.”

"He's probably hiding," the magician concluded, looking at me thoughtfully. "He feels my presence nearby, that's why he doesn't want to show himself."

"What does he have to be afraid of?" I didn’t understand.

"Who, not what," the noble sir chuckled and explained, "How would he know who summoned him? Maybe some crazy sorcerer decided to capture him to get a demonic servant. For free."

“And how can I lure him out for a conversation now?” I wondered.

"He will get out as soon as he feels that nothing threatens him."

"So what should I do now?"

"Continue to implement the things you have planned," the magician advised me. "The imp will not be able to hold back. He will definitely stick his head out."

“Okay, I’ll try,” I agreed.

“Go ahead, try it,” Sir Roderick nodded approvingly and asked, “I hope I don’t need to explain to you that what happened here must be kept secret even from friends?”

"No need. I'm not a fool, I understand that a too-long tongue dramatically shortens life."

“Excellent,” the magician grinned, “then I won’t keep you any longer.”

Sir Roderick led me to the living room, where my companions were relaxing in low armchairs. They were drinking aromatic coffee with cakes, and apparently did not think about me; they liked the hospitable house so much. However, seeing me with the owner of the mansion, they jumped up.

"So?" Veld asked immediately after we said goodbye to Sir Roderick. He didn't even wait for us to leave the door.

“Nothing,” I replied. “It’s complicated. There’s a real chance that I’ll manage to stay alive, but I might also die. It’ll be a matter of luck.”

"Well, at least that's something!" Roald was delighted. "After all, until now, no one even hinted at you surviving."

“All the more so because you’re lucky,” Veld encouraged me.

"Let's hope we'll be lucky here too," I said, smiling slightly.

"Where are we going?" Fry asked as we climbed into the cab.

"To Roald, probably,” I said, looking at him. “Maybe Triss has already finished my order.”

Roald nodded and began to explain to the cabbie how to get to his house. And I thought... How can I lure this damned demon out?..

//"So what do you want?" - a foreign thought appeared in my head. Right in front of me, out of nowhere, an imp appeared: "Why the hell did you drag me out of the Edge? Is there nothing better to do than distract decent imps from important matters?"

//“What are you so cranky?” I asked, confused, already stunned by the sudden appearance of an otherworldly entity right under my nose.

Dark brown, like a furry toy, the imp settled on the railing of the carriage and, with sparkling eyes, bared small, sharp teeth. But it still did not look like a terrible monster. It seemed more like a funny furry creature with short, widely spaced horns on an excessively large head, with legs ending in hooves, while the hands were quite ordinary, and with an incomprehensible face covered in thick hair. And so it is not immediately clear what is more in this mug - pig or human ... A small snout is definitely a pig's. A wonderful creature ... And even with a long tail with a tassel on the end.

//“So,” the evilly grinning demon continued his mental communication. “Bring me back immediately or I won’t be responsible for myself!”

//“Any moment,” I assured the demonic spawn, coming to my senses. “Just help me a little, and you’ll be on your way right away.”

//"Yeah, screw you!" snorted the demon. "Call someone else to handle your business. I don't have time to bother with you!"

//“What are you so busy with?” I asked, deciding to try to establish normal communication with the summoned creature.

//"I am sharing my experience!" declared the indignant imp. "I am teaching our youth the tricks of malice, since I myself have achieved great success in this matter!"

\\“What?” I was amazed.

//"That!" the imp flared up, losing his patience. "I am the master mentor!" And he almost screamed: "Do you even imagine what the little imps will do there without me?! You dragged me right out of class!"

//"Oh," I was puzzled. Sir Roderick got something mixed up about the lesser imp...

//“Send me back!” the imp demanded again and threatened: “Or you’ll regret it!”

//“Okay,” I agreed, deciding it was time to take the bull by the horns. “Take away from me the filth that is devouring my body, and then you will go to your place.”

//“Who do you take me for?” the imp was indignant and, turning his back to me, pointed his finger at his back and asked: “Do you see wings?”

/“No,” I was puzzled by the strange question.

//“Exactly!” the imp turned around, seething with indignation. “So why did you take me for an angel? I’m a demon! And my job is not to help people, but to harm them! Or, by offering to do a good deed, do you want all my merits to go down the drain? You get nothing!”

//“Then your little imps will be left unattended!” I got angry.

//“It’s okay, they’ll last two days!” the imp blurted out in response and gloated: “You won’t be able to hold out any longer!” And he disappeared, not giving me a chance to object.

“Kar, what’s wrong?” Veld nudged me in the side.

I almost jumped. It wouldn't take long to lose all connection with reality if you often converse with an imp in your thoughts! Glancing sideways at my friend, I saw some concern on his face. So, I was the only one observing the inhabitant of the Lower World.

“Everything’s fine,” I assured Veld. “I was just thinking.”

“Ah…” he sighed with relief. “That’s good. You’ve got such a face… Your eyes are glassy and your jaw is hanging open… I thought you were already…” And he twirled his finger at his temple.

"It's you already ..." I said with annoyance.

"Okay, Kar, let's drop it," Veld suggested peacefully. "I just wanted to know what we're going to do this evening. Maybe we'll have some fun with girls?"

"I was just thinking about what to do," I said discontentedly. "And you distracted me from my thoughts."

"Well then, think, think,” Veld fell behind.

I leaned back in my seat, pushed my cap down over my forehead, and closed my eyes. Let them think I was taking a nap. Maybe then they wouldn't bother me. After all, I really needed to think hard about what to do with the imp's spawn.

It is not noticeable that this horned bastard wants to settle in my body, as Sir Roderick claimed. On the contrary, he wants to get away as quickly as possible. And he does not even want to listen to anything...

"Imp?" I mentally addressed him. But I received no answer.

He's hiding, the tailed one... If only I knew how to lure him out... But, unfortunately, I haven't studied demonology... However, the holy fathers talk a lot about otherworldly creatures in their sermons. It's quite possible to form an idea of the guest who has settled in my body. The tendency of imp-possessed people to all sorts of excesses and vices is often mentioned. Almost every priest emphasizes this... Such is the influence of the imp entity. Sir Roderick also said that the horned ones want to have fun without restraint... And this means that there is still a possibility to tempt the demon with life in a human body. I just need to throw him a more tempting bait. After all, I don't know what he likes most of all...

We'll have to check. After all, we have a suitable nest of vice and debauchery in Kelm. Not as luxurious as the capital's dens, of course, but quite decent.

"Veld, Roald," I said, pushing my cap back and turning to my companions, "I've just had an idea... Would you like to spend this evening at the Silver Ringing?"

"I wish!" Veld blurted out immediately, but, remembering something important, he moderated his delight and carefully asked: "And are you paying?"

"Of course. Three silver roldos are not such a large sum."

"But it's not a small one either," Roald noted. "Especially because you'll have to pay it just to enter the establishment. And then there's God knows what other expenses awaiting you..."

"Oh, that's nothing," I waved it off. "I still have nine gold pieces left. Isn't that enough for us to party?"

"Well, if not to play, then of course it's enough," Roald agreed. "You can lose more in an evening at dice, but if you drink and squander that amount... No, we can't afford it."

"We'll have to try," I chuckled. "We have two days." And I corrected myself: "Or rather, one and a half..."

Due to grandiose plans for the near future, our company was forced to split up at Roald's house. Veld went home to get himself in order before visiting such a prestigious establishment as the Silver Ringing. You can't show up there in a simple guard's uniform.

It was easier for Roald and me. Triss sewed me a great suit, in which I wouldn't be ashamed to show up even in the capital's "Golden Ringing", let alone in ours - "Silver". And the foreman had no problems with good clothes before. With his wife, after all, a craftswoman.

After having lunch with Roald, we also had a few drinks. We celebrated my new clothes, so to speak. And then Veld showed up. We had another drink with him and went to buy the last of our purchases: boots and a hat. Dressing like you're going to a parade means dressing up completely.

Soon the object of Veld's dreams appeared on my head - a wide-brimmed hat with a long feather, coal-black with a blue tint. For the third decade, the whole city had been guessing from which bird such a beauty was plucked, but no one could clarify this point. To tell the truth, the impudent merchant took advantage of the situation and sold to everyone who wanted not just feathers, but hats with them, but that was his business.

Veld couldn't resist the temptation and bought himself a hat after unsuccessfully trying to talk the merchant into selling him only a feather. However, his friend was so pleased with his purchase that he didn't even complain about the clever deception when we left the counter.

During my walk through the shopping arcades, the curse of the slain dark one caught up with me. At first, I didn’t even understand what was happening to me. It seemed like a coincidence: sometimes my fingers would go numb, sometimes my side would sting. After all, everything passes almost immediately. But a little later, my torment began… It wasn’t that it was painful – rather unpleasant. It felt as if I had frozen over and had jumped from the cold into the warmth. My poor bones were aching…

At least after a good portion of wine, it felt better. But it was clear that it wouldn't last long. I immediately remembered the advice of Tier Eldar - to take some drugs. It looks like I'll have to take advantage of it. But that's not a problem - you can find anything in Silver Ringingl.

In general, the time until the evening flew by almost unnoticed. It's even offensive. When you stand on the wall for a shift, you suffer and suffer, and the hands on the tower clock are as if lifeless. You get tired of waiting for an hour to pass. And here, almost a quarter of a day flew by in an instant.

We pulled up to the Silver Ringing at dusk. The brightly burning street lamps gave us enough light to appreciate the impressive size of the thugs hanging around the door. It would have been better if there had been semi-darkness by the porch, because looking at these bone-breakers in stylish blue uniforms with silver embroidery, it was hard to hold back laughter. Clowns, and nothing more. Who could have come up with the idea of ​​dressing these bone-breakers like that? Looking at these villainous mugs, you just want to exclaim: “These are not security, but robbers!”

“What are you standing there for, Kar?” Roald asked me as he climbed out of the cab.

“Yes, I’m looking at this circus,” I replied, smiling, and, pulling down my sleeve, moved forward.

"Oh, what people!" Veld whistled, spotting one of the two guards who made bored faces at the sight of the guards heading towards them. "That's Kolun! Did they really let him go?"

"And you didn't know?" Roald was surprised. "They put him on bail until the trial." And he asked Kolun himself: "When is the trial?"

"In five days," he grumbled and asked, "And what brought you here, Tier Foreman? You don't seem to like this kind of entertainment, do you?"

"We're on a raid," Veld enlightened him with a grin.

"And who are you catching?" The security became wary, exchanging glances. And Kolun's friend blocked our way and, scowling, declared: "Private property. You have no right to enter without permission from the magistrate."

"Don't worry, dude!" Veld, who had reached him with some difficulty, patronizingly patted the guard on the shoulder and laughed: "We'll only be catching luck and pretty girls. So go ahead and open the way!"

“So, are you playing?” Kolun asked incredulously.

“Of course,” I promised, and, going around the bouncer, pulled the massive door towards me.

Behind the doors, we found a very small hall, where two more bouncers were hanging out in the same ridiculous suits, and behind the desk sat a girl who had simply blossomed at the sight of us.

“I would smile like that too if everyone gave me a silver coin,” Veld whispered to me when three coins of the established fee migrated into the girl’s hands.

"You're greedy," I reproached. My friend snorted indignantly in response.

Behind the next door was the actual gambling hall. The soft, subdued light pouring from dozens, if not hundreds lamps perfectly illuminated the vast room and at the same time created some kind of cozy charm. It felt like you were coming home after a shift. Only, of course, the furnishings were too expensive…

“It’s normal,” Veld said condescendingly, although it was obvious that he was impressed by the luxury that reigned in the gambling house.

"Shall we have a drink first?" Roald asked, nodding towards the bar.

“Let’s go,” I agreed.

Our friendly company rushed to the counter.

A wide carpet leading from the entrance to the bar divided the room into two almost equal parts: on the left, the game was at the tables, and on the right, a visitor tired of the games could take a break, have a drink, and a snack. All so that the players would have no reason to leave this establishment. And on the second floor, according to Roald, there are rooms for a short nap or other rest. You don't have to go home until you've spent all your money.

“There aren’t many people playing,” Veld noted as he walked. “We must have arrived a bit too early.”

"You think people come here just to throw dice?" Roald chuckled mockingly.

“Indeed,” I chuckled. “Richard even demands that his establishment be called a club, not a gambling house.”

"He would have been better off calling it a bunch of overgrown idiots who have nothing better to do than sit here at night and spend their parents' gold," Roald snorted. "Otherwise, look at that - it's prestigious to spend an evening at a club with friends."

I smiled, glancing sideways at Roald. Prestige is, of course, good, but I think that's not the only reason people flock here. There are a lot of people here, and the service is top-notch, and there are no drunken fights, like in some decent establishments closer to the port quarter. And most importantly, there is entertainment for every taste. You can not only try your luck at roulette or dice, but also just sit with a girlfriend over a glass of fine wine. And you don't necessarily have to bring a girl with you. There are already a lot of them hanging around here. It's too promising a place to catch wealthy suitors... In addition, many children of rich people indulge in "Sparkling Ice" or "Solar Dew"... And here you can get whatever your heart desires.

"Kar?! What brings you here?" I was intercepted almost at the bar by a Malvian girl who had fluttered out from somewhere on the right in a light summer dress of a completely wild, bright color.

“Well, I decided to have a little fun in honor of my promotion,” I replied, recognizing my old friend.

"So you are our hero-savior? The one who defended the city from the invasion of the dark ones?" Kaylee was amazed.

"You exaggerate my merits," I laughed.

"Well, probably not so much, if you were promoted right away," Kaylee said, smiling charmingly. "I heard you were even nominated for an order for services to the Empire."

"I don't know anything about that, I chuckled." And shook my head. Interesting rumors about me are going around town. "Did you come with friends?" I asked the girl hanging on my arm.

"No, I'm alone," she answered, and, narrowing her eyes slyly, moved closer and asked in a whisper: "What, do you want to collect an old debt from me? I'm always willing... to satisfy any of your whims." And she burst into charming laughter, seeing my embarrassment.

"So that's how you are?" I shook my head. Accepting the game and hugging Kaylee around the waist, I clarified: "Just any whim?"

"Yes, tier foreman, that’s exactly it,” the malicious girl whispered conspiratorially, looking down.

I laughed again.

"Kaylee, look, you know everything here," having laughed and remembered my plans, I said quietly. "Help me with one thing."

"What do you want?" Kaylee asked, still smiling. "Do you want me to hand over all the criminals hanging around here to you?"

"No, I have simpler wishes. Help me get something like... well, let's say, Sparkling Ice."

"Have you decided to have a blast?" the girl asked with no small amount of sarcasm.

“Yeah,” I admitted. “So, will you help?”

"Just for you or your friends too?"

"Exclusively for me. But a lot…"

"How much?" Kaylee asked nonchalantly.

"On the gold one."

"Why do you need so much?" Kaylee's eyes widened in surprise.

"Let the good times roll," I joked.

"Is that so?" the girl asked, looking at me intently. After coming to some decision, she nodded: “You'll get Sparkling Ice. But you'll have to wait a little. I'm broke today, and I need to catch up with some friends to borrow some cash.”

"What are you saying, Kaylee?" I stopped the girl who had moved away from me. "I don’t demand that you pay for the purchase out of your pocket. I was going to treat you at my own expense." And, taking a gold coin from my purse that glittered in the light, I put it in Kaylee’s hand.

“Kar, you're adorable!” Kaylee squealed enthusiastically, clutching the money in her fist, and kissed me on the lips in her excitement. Then, promising, “I'll be right back!” she literally vanished from my arms.

Looking around and not seeing my friend anywhere, I pushed my hat down onto my forehead and scratched the back of my head. Just a wish-fulfillment demon, not a girl.

Shaking myself, I continued my way to the bar counter, where my companions had already sat down on the empty chairs. They were fast. Or maybe I had gotten carried away chatting with Kaylee. Before I could sit down on the next chair, Veld had accosted me:

"Who is that girl? Do you know her?"

"Yep."

"So what kind of friend are you, Kar?!" My buddy immediately snapped. "It turns out he has a Malvian girlfriend, and he didn't say a word!" And, leaning his head toward me, he eagerly asked: "So what's she like? Better than ours?"

"Veld, get off." I frowned. "We're just acquaintances."

And Roald, hearing our conversation, grinned:

"Don't stare at dark-skinned girls, Veld — nothing good will come of it."

"Why not?" The remark struck a chord with Veld.

"But you are a redhead!"

“So what?” Veld frowned, not understanding anything.

"Can you imagine what your children will look like?" Roald asked cheerfully. "They'll definitely be black-red. Spotty. Well, if you're really unlucky, they'll be striped."

I laughed, imagining such the wonder and shock of the townspeople meeting Veld and his family on a walk.

"Ugh!" Veld spat in frustration. "I'm not going to marry her! And she's not that dark-skinned."

"Yes, that's true," Roald agreed. "Clearly not a purebred Malvian. Right, Kar?"

“Uh-huh,” I responded, momentarily breaking away from my conversation with the bartender, who came over to take our order.

"So how do you know her?" Roald asked. He seemed interested in where I could have met the Malvian woman.

Taking a sip of wine, I lifted the brim of my hat that was hanging over my eyes with my index finger and began a leisurely story:

Last year, just the day after St. Yorick's Day, I had finished my work at Jim's and was going home. It was well past midnight. And so I was walking along, calmly, and then there was shouting and screaming. Someone was fighting right by Sleepy Lane... I picked up my pace. I looked and saw some sailors on a spree, smashing a couple of lanterns, so it would be dark, and they were harassing some girl.

"How did they get so far from the port?" Veld asked incredulously. "Drunk people would never have made it, and sober people would never have gone that far."

"Do I know?" I shrugged. "The fact is that four scoundrels did not find worthy entertainment for themselves in the port quarter and found it almost on the other side of the city."

“And how did you calm them down?” Roald asked.

"They were completely drunk. I quietly approached them from behind and knocked out two of them at once — they didn't even have time to realize what was happening. I hit them on the head with the hilt of my rapier, and they fell. The rest weren't fighters either. One of them grabbed a knife, but what good is a gut knife against a falchion? I drew a little blood, and he calmed down. The last one had no idea where he was or what he was doing, so I didn't bother with him. That's how I met Kaylee."

"Why did you keep quiet about such an adventure?" Veld said indignantly.

"Well, that's how it turned out," I dodged the question.

There was a reason. There was. The smart thing to do was to hand over the sailors to the first patrol, but I didn't do it. Kaylee asked me not to blow the story. The sailors only managed to scare her. She was too kind. Although those ship rats wouldn't have spared her. As soon as they escape to shore for a couple of days, they lose the rest of their minds. And then they roar like beluga whales in court, swearing that they don't remember anything... They cause nothing but trouble in the city. And for the girls, such a meeting at night is just a living nightmare. Not only will they deprive you of your maiden honor, but they'll also do some nasty thing. They'll cut your face or beat you up so badly that no healer will be able to help you get your former beauty back.

But the beautiful Malvian convinced me not to wait for the guards… I had to simply give the scoundrels more so that they wouldn’t come to their senses any time soon, and rip off their clothes. After all, twenty lashes are the penalty for appearing on the street in an indecent state… Then I also bought some beer for Slow-witted, who was then the city executioner, so that he wouldn’t have to hold his hand…

So there was no way to tell this story - internal security would immediately get on our nerves. We stole the clothes and took the little money the sailors had. And the very next day, we spent the silver in the Black Rose...

However, the main reason I didn't mention meeting Kaylee was different. I was very attracted to her at the time. I hoped to get to know her better and then surprise Veld. But it didn't work out... Kaylee is, as they say, a lost soul. She got caught up in the circle of wealthy young people who don't know the value of money. And now she flits like a butterfly from one fancy party to another and expensive bars, without thinking about the future. She has fun, as usual, in their circle. Dancing until she drops, expensive wine by the glass, and, of course, drugs. She is firmly addicted to drugs... “Sparkling ice” is our everything! And yet she has neither rich parents nor her own fortune. But Kaylee has no money problems either, because she does not consider it shameful to accept expensive gifts from her wealthy friends. Of course, not for nothing.

So it's a lost case, really. Even if you really want to keep something like that, it's way too expensive for a regular guard, and sharing your girlfriend with others isn't really that fun. Besides, when I tried to convince Kaylee to quit “ice,” she made it very clear that she would not tolerate interference in her personal affairs. She said she would do whatever she wanted, poison herself with whatever she wanted, and sleep with whomever she wanted.

Kaylee later explained it this way: she doesn't claim anything, so it's strange to demand anything from her. She's not averse to being friends, but it's better not to expect anything more. Marriage and a quiet family life don't appeal to her.

Nevertheless, we have developed a friendly relationship. Probably, first and foremost, because Kaylee has an incredibly easygoing personality. It is as easy to communicate with her as it is with Veld, even though we have known him for more than a decade. You can’t find girls like Kaylee even with fire in daylight…

"Kar, are you soaring into the sky again?" Veld nudged me lightly. "Wake up!"

“Here I am,” I smiled and suggested, “Let's take a table. We can't sit at the bar all evening.”

However, I was unable to carry out my plan in its entirety. We hadn't even left the bar when Kaylee appeared next to me. She smiled sweetly, greeted my companions, and apologized for kidnapping me.

“And where are we going?” I asked Kaylee, who grabbed me by the elbow.

“You’ll see now,” Kaylee promised in a conspiratorial whisper.

It turned out that she was leading me to booths located along the wall, designed for companies seeking privacy. Mythical, of course, because cloth screens are not stone walls. Still, it was cozier there than in the hall: quieter, and very comfortable to sprawl out on the low sofa. You can't sprawl out on a chair.

We entered an empty booth, and Kaylee pulled the screen behind her and pushed me onto the couch. Without ceremony, she immediately sat down on my lap. Villainess.

"Here you go." Shaking a tiny box out of her sleeve and into her palm, Kaylee handed it to me.

“Open it,” I asked when it became clear that I couldn’t open the box with one hand, and the other one just didn’t want to move from Kaylee’s waist.

Nodding, Kaylee used her nails to pry open the stubborn lid and spilled a whole bunch of tiny golden balls into her palm.

"Eighteen pieces," the Malvian girl considered it necessary to clarify the number of portions of dope. "On the street, of course, 'ice' is cheaper, but here it is of better quality."

"You can take a couple," I offered.

“Thank you!” Kaylee exclaimed happily and quickly hid the golden ball in a secret pocket hidden in the folds of her sleeve. She poured the rest into a box, leaving only one in her palm.

Then the box of dope moved into the inside pocket of my jacket, and Kaylee, looking sideways at me, asked with a smile:

"Let's check if I was deceived?"

“Go ahead,” I agreed.

Malvian girl narrowed her eyes slyly, as if she had something in mind, and, looking away, began to peel the golden ball, removing the foil from its contents. She quickly finished this simple task, and soon there was a tiny pile of crystals in her palm, resembling melted snow and glistening in the lamplight. Licking her lips as if anticipating the pleasure to come, Kaylee glanced at me again and, smiling broadly, did something unexpected. She didn't lick the ice off her palm, but pressed her lips to it. Three times. Until all the icy crystals stuck to her moist, glistening lips. Then Kaylee turned her head toward me and whispered with a provocative smile:

"Kar, you chicken out to kiss a girl?"

“Not at all,” I replied.

What should I be worried about? That I won't be able to resist the latest trend among the golden youth, the 'succubus kiss', and will pounce on Kaylee right here? She probably knows about this possibility. If she's making such a suggestion, it means she's not worried about the consequences. I have nothing to worry about either. The main thing is not to ruin the illusion, or else I'll be embarrassed for the rest of the evening.

Kaylee, bad girl, got me to agree and then decided to really go for it. She started kissing like a young lady on a first date, just light touches of the lips and no licking. She was teasing me.

The ice gradually melted, slowly being absorbed into her moist lips. The kisses became more and more passionate and sensual. Each touch of the lips brought more and more pleasure. It seemed that the “sparkling ice” had nothing to do with it, but rather it was all about the burning passion that had arisen between us.

The euphoria of incredible sensual pleasure that overwhelmed me slowly destroyed what remained of my common sense. Only one desire pulsed in my head—to rip off the thin rag that Kaylee called a dress and throw the provocative woman onto the sofa. So that the passionate pleasure we were experiencing would be complete.

It took a tremendous effort of will to hold myself back. I couldn't lose control of myself. This was just a fun challenge. Kaylee would have suggested another place to enjoy the 'ice' if she wanted to have fun with me.

“Well, how do you like it?” the girl asked with a smile, moving away.

"You'll never forget something like that," I smiled, gently running my right hand over Kaylee's face, from her temple to almost her chin. And I adjusted the flat moon silver plate hanging from a thin chain from her earlobe, which had four slits in the shape of elemental runes. “What funny earrings...”

“Do you like it?” Kaylee asked.

“I like you,” I replied, looking into the dark pools of eyes sparkling with passion.

"What's the problem?" She raised an eyebrow. "There are nice rooms here..."

"Is this a hint?"

"No, that's a direct offer," Kaylee shook her head, trying to look serious. But she couldn't hide her smile.

"So..." I said, thinking about how to fit this into my plans for the evening. If I accept Kaylee's offer, I can forget about luring the imp. There would be no time for that. And in my situation, that would be tantamount to death. Besides, Kaylee might not want anything like that; she might just want to repay me for that incident long ago. Otherwise, there's no explanation for her affection for me. I'm not rich, and I'm not some handsome dandy. Somehow, it's not quite right...

After thinking for a bit, he said:

"In general, I wouldn't mind spending the evening with you, but only if you really want it."

"Kar, who do you take me for?!" Kaylee was indignant. "I only sleep with whoever I want!"

"I don't mean to offend you," I assured the girl. "I just don't want this to look like payment for rescuing you from the sailors' clutches."

“I’m not offering to have some fun as a thank you, Kar,” the Malvian girl sighed and, rubbing her cheek against mine, said barely audibly: “We could just have a great time to our mutual pleasure...”

"Okay, Kaylee, let's do this. Let's hold off on the bedroom activities for now, because I came here with my friends, and it wouldn't be right to leave them. I should stay with them for the sake of propriety. And I'd like to play some dice... And then, if you don't change your mind..."

"Why should I change my mind?" Kaylee smiled slyly. "After such a wonderful foreplay... Especially since it can be repeated if I suddenly cool down."

"Not in the booth!" I said, pretending to be very frightened. "Otherwise, I'll ravage you right here."

Kaylee laughed and, adjusting her little hat, which didn’t cover even half her head and was held on by stilettos, rose from my lap:

"What are your friends going to do? Are they going to be bored all evening alone? Maybe you should introduce them to someone?"

"Red is ok," I answered. "But Roald is married, and if he goes on the loose, I won't be able to hide from Triss even in the graveyard. But with Veld, it's not that simple either - it's unlikely that any of the girls here would be attracted to an ordinary guard."

"Why not? Anything can happen," the girl replied, preening herself. "Although, of course, it's not easy to find a suitable partner here right away. But if you have a little silver, you can simply invite the girls to your table. There are many sociable ones here... They won't let your friends get bored."

"No problem, we’ll pay if necessary,” I shrugged.

"Then I'll pull some girls over now," promised Kaylee and playfully threatened with her finger: "Just don't even think about looking at them! I'm with you today!"

“Okay, I won’t,” I smiled. And I had no intention of changing anything in the arrangement that suited me completely. And I don’t believe that Kaylee would invite girls prettier than herself. If only because there are only a few of them here. At least, among those who at first glance might be tempted by silver. If we were walking around with gold, then yes, there would be no end to the beauties who would like to join our fun.

Having sat down at the table occupied by Veld and Roald, I said to my friend, who was looking askance at the company seated nearby:

"Now the girls will join us too."

"You've been negotiating this with your Malvian girl for so long?" Veld immediately egged me on.

"No, we just chatted about life,” I grinned and made a sober face.

"Yeah, right," Veld said sarcastically. "You just 'chatted' for a quarter of an hour."

“We haven’t seen each other for a long time,” I wriggled out and immediately changed the subject: “You sit while I try my luck, okay?”

"No problem, Kar," Roald responded. "Don't worry, we won't get lost here without you."

"Ker? How are you doing here? Aren't you bored?" Kaylee asked. She brought a couple of pretty girls of about seventeen to our table - a blonde and a brunette one.

"Of course, we miss you!" I said, although the Malvian girl had only been absent for a short time.

Kaylee introduced us to the girls, Isha and Lary, and we drank to our acquaintance. We sat for a bit, chatted about nothing, and then I went to play with Kaylee, who did not want to wait for me at the table.

“What are you going to play?” Kaylee asked, casually greeting some of her acquaintances.

"Well, I'll probably try everything."

Looking at Kaylee, I admired her again. She's beautiful! Sparkling Ice certainly makes itself felt, raising the mood to dizzying heights and making you admire even the most ordinary things. But even without the foolishness, she makes an impression.

“Everything?” Kaylee asked, surprised.

"Well, yes," I confirmed. "I can't play anything smart anyway. So I'll try dice, roulette, and cards. Maybe I'll get lucky at something."

Or something the imp will like. But Kaylee doesn't need to know about that.

We stopped at the first table where there was no dice thrower. The croupier immediately pushed the faceted dice of transparent red glass towards us, so that everyone could be sure there was no catch in them, and smiled encouragingly. In his heart, he was probably laughing at the young simpleton who had taken up dope and, out of little intelligence, had gone to squander his money instead of doing something more interesting with his beautiful companion.

I picked up the dice from the dark green baize table, and a couple of elderly matrons, who were bored without the main player, immediately perked up.

Looking at them, Kaylee suddenly decided:

"I'll play a little too! I'll bet on you, Kar!" She settled herself in a chair at the long side of the table, where there was a place for betting on the outcome of the throws.

The chips were hardly used here, so I took a handful of silver from my purse and poured it at my end of the table.

“Let’s start with the minimum,” I said to the croupier, who was looking at me impatiently.

He nodded briefly, scooped out a silver coin from my money with a shovel that looked like a poker, and dragged it away to himself.

The smallest of the silver coins remained there. The first and second throws - and both times an eight came up. Another silver coin left its girlfriends and crawled to the dealer. And again, failure. And then another. And so seven times in a row. So after that, it's hard to believe that beginners are lucky.
* * *

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Переводчики: Camrad_RIP