"Gentlemen! I present to you the new head of the Main Agara, Archmage Zaragor. And his assistants, Gerlat and Sinkar."
Ned sat down at the table, wearily crossing his legs, and watched as the mages ceremoniously took their seats in front of the three colonels. Then he added:
"Agara has accepted your terms and will cooperate in all matters of state activity. The mages, together with the secular authorities, will develop a code of conduct for mages, and... well, they will live better than before. Now they want to hear how they can help in the fight against the rebellious demonologist and his master, a state criminal named Girsos of Amun."
"Ned, you've been playing the role of the council's envoy for a long time," Gerlat smirked. "Keep it simple, okay? Anyway, he came, caused a ruckus, chopped off the heads of five mages, including the head of the agara, managed to survive, and forced us to follow the council's lead. Now we need to hear what you want from us and how you plan to gut two idiots who locked themselves in the palace. That's it.
"Yes, we heard about the carnage Ned caused in Agar," Zayd breathed. "I'm glad he got out of there alive... Honestly, I didn't believe he'd pull it off. Well, thank the gods. As for the palace—what's there to do? Just raze it to the ground, that's all. You can do that, right?"
"It's not that simple," Gerlat said, his expression dark. "We need the power of black mages, fueled by white ones. A powerful black mage will stand at the tip of the Arrow. We'll have to harness the forces of nature, very powerful ones. Ned suggests creating an earthquake, a sinkhole, so the palace will collapse beneath the city. You know there's a network of caves beneath the city, right? That's where the building will fall. Along with everything in it. There were suggestions to burn down the palace, to combine forces and create a fireball the size of a house, and..."
"There! An excellent solution!" Evore interrupted. "And why did you refuse?"
"If the enemies put up a strong defense, the orb will be as effective as if we ran up and peed on the wall. The effect will be the same. We discussed other options, but other than building the palace underground, nothing else came up. The only thing is, we need to evict people from the surrounding neighborhoods—the earthquake could be so strong it would affect a large area. And the houses would collapse. We can't afford to waste time, and if we strike, we'll strike with all our might. But what will happen after that—only the gods know. And Ned—that demon guy knows everything!" Gerlat grinned and winked at the "demon guy," who was thoughtfully scratching his nostril. "Ned, what do you think? Any thoughts on the earthquake?"
"What other considerations could there be? Destroy everything. Whatever will be, will be. There are caves beneath the city, yes, but it's not a given that they'll all collapse. The part of the city where the palace stands could cave in, creating a crater. And that's all. When the earthquake ends, we need to run there and kill everyone left alive. And also, set up posts around it with amulets that will detect the scattering Shatriya and Atroc. They're hard to kill, and if anyone survives, it'll be them. As soon as they appear, kill them on the spot, don't let them get close. Otherwise, they'll flee. The soldiers won't be able to stand up to the Shatriya. Well... that's all, basically. I've done all I can. Can I leave? I have my own business to attend to..."
"Go ahead, of course," Zaid allowed, slightly taken aback. "You've said everything, now we'll schedule the start of the operation. Do you need help? Is something wrong?"
"No," Ned shook his head, "I'm a little tired. I'll go rest."
"Yes, yes, of course! You've done more than anyone else, and you deserve a rest. And not just a rest. The Kingdom will not forget you!" Zayd was sincere and so moved that a tear glistened in his eyes. "Go, rest. Just leave an address where we can find you. In case you're needed..."
"I'll tell you a little later. Okay?" Ned answered evasively, not wanting to reveal his refuge in Senerad's house.
"Okay," the colonel shrugged. "So, gentlemen, shall we begin discussing the operation? So, how many mages do you plan to deploy?"
* * *
Ned looked at Sanda's white marble face and wondered: does she dream? Where is her soul now? Does his wife hear him? Whose wife? Everything is jumbled, everything is jumbled in this world. The sergeant has fallen into a whirlpool of murky water, and it's dragging Ned around, spinning and tossing him around, like a branch broken off by a merciless hurricane. Where will this current carry him?
"I've posted a guard," a voice said from behind, "and the boys are on duty. No one will go near her. You, you know... hold on, boy. Ned, I wanted to ask you... you don't have to answer if you don't want to... Did you really give your Sanda to Heverad?"
Ned looked up at the healer. The giant stood before him, fiddling with the hook of his jacket on his chest, his eyes hidden from his friend. Ned chuckled and said quietly:
- No, of course not. Can you believe I did that?
"I wouldn't have believed it before... but people change. I never thought Heverad would arrest me. He did... and I considered him a friend. Forgive my frankness... but people are people."
"I have an agreement with Heverad. He won't touch Sanda. Not without her permission. And if he does, I'll kill him. And he knows it."
"So that's how it is!" Zheresar breathed. "I'm silent. Not a word to anyone. And what are you getting at with 'without her permission'? Some kind of test on your wife, or something?"
"Tests? Hm... no, not a wife. Probably tests of love. If she values power more than me, then what are we talking about? Let her live as she pleases. And besides, she might even fall in love with Heverad. Sanda's a grown woman..."
"What's a woman is a woman," the healer drawled thoughtfully. "Do you know what Gerlat told me? Sanda is pregnant."
"How does he know?" Ned's eyebrows rose. "We just... um... well, where from?"
"He's a mage-healer," Zheresar said simply. "Mage-healers can detect pregnancy an hour after a woman conceives. The body is changing, beginning to change. And you let it slip. It's your child, right?"
– Probably… mine – not probably, but mine! She was a virgin, and spent the night before the coronation with me.
"So that's how it is… Strange things are, gods!" the healer chuckled. "Heverad, as I understand, is aware… well, you're a good boy. You've arranged everything as it should be. Don't worry – I'll keep an eye on her, the boys will be constantly nearby – and not just to treat her. No one will be able to approach her body while they're alive. They'll take turns on duty. You can go about your business as much as you like. I'll hire a woman to care for her – wash her, massage her, so the tissues don't stagnate and die. However, as far as I know, kaldrana preserves the body, as it were; it's not a simple paralysis. She could lie like this for years, and nothing will happen to her… a sleeping queen. Have you figured out where to get an antidote?"
– Put out a call throughout the country, throughout all countries, involve all alchemists.
"How will you know if this antidote is real or not?" the doctor chuckled. "They'll sell you some powder for a fortune, and so what? I hope you don't get poisoned..."
"And what do you suggest?" Ned looked helplessly at Sanda and bit his lip.
- A test subject. You need a test subject!
– Do you think anyone will agree? It's dangerous!
"It's all about the price. Offer him a lot, more than he'll ever earn in his entire life, and go ahead—let him sleep, and you'll give him the antidote. If it works, then Sande too."
"Can I ask a question?" Ned suddenly interrupted. "Everything's clear with the test subject, you're right, that's what we'll do. I'm talking about something else. Tell me, how do you feel about Heverad?"
"Hmm… do you think I'm ready to poison him?" the healer laughed. "Well, first of all, I'm a healer and I can't wish harm on anyone I treat. Let alone poisoning. And then – well, yes, I'm angry at Nulan. He's a pig! But what can you do now… friends, like loved ones, are given to us by the gods. He was so upset that he arrested me, he almost cried. I saw it. Unless it's about politics and profit, he's a good man. He just got carried away playing his own games. I don't wish him harm. Yes, the old relationship will no longer be. But what can you do? Everything changes, and we change. I would be back in my town right now, with my beloved wife… but look how it turned out," the healer suddenly changed the subject. "I promise you that until you wake Sanda, I will not leave her." "Make more amulets of visibility, hang them on every corner... Actually, I see you've done it," Zheresar chuckled, looking at the door. "You've changed, Ned. Whether you notice it or not, you've matured. Now no one would recognize you as the boy I took to the city to see the healers. My daughter is a fool... how I wish you could fall in love. But... what is, is. Cherish your love, not everyone is blessed with such happiness!"
"There you are!" the door swung open, and Imar walked softly in. "It's getting dark, we need to go. Hello, Zheresar. How's the girl doing?"
"Everything's fine with her," the doctor smiled. "She's sleeping peacefully, well. One can only envy her. Time passes, the hours tick by, and she remains just as she was before."
"A statue. A beautiful statue," Imar grinned. "No, better to live wild and happy! Than like this..."
"Yes, you're right... okay, go ahead and do your thing. I'll give her some strengthening mixture now and feed her some broth. That'll last her a long time..."
* * *
"Finally!" Imar burst into the doorway after Ned, and Senerad, blinking his eyes in surprise, asked with interest:
"So these are your eye-catching amulets? Yeah... wonderful. It's clear how you became so powerful with things like that! And God forbid your secret gets out—they could do countless mischief. Come on, show yourself! It's a disgusting feeling talking to nothing!"
Ned followed Imar and pulled the magic amulet from his neck and asked:
- So, what's going on with the prince? How is he?
"Well, how about... he's lying there, sleeping," the doctor shrugged.
"What, he's been sleeping all this time?" Ned asked, surprised. "Maybe I hit him too hard? He seemed to be moving!"
"I'm pouring a sleeping potion down his throat," Senerad said calmly, removing the boiling kettle from the stove. "What are you looking at? You left me with a young man! He'll break down the door and kill the old man! And I won't even have time to enjoy the benefits of friendship with the future... What are you planning to become at court? An advisor to the king? There are such rumors about you..."
"And what rumors?" Ned grinned. "That I'm Heverad's secret son?"
"And that too," the healer nodded, setting the cups on the table, "Heverad's bastard, Zamara's secret ruler, the demonologist who absorbed the souls of the queen and king, and who else... I forgot... Ah! A demon in the flesh! The assassin the Ardians sent to destroy our country!"
"I wonder how I can be both Heverad's bastard and an ard sent to destroy something or other…" Ned asked sourly, his mood suddenly soured.
"And what did you expect from the people? It's interesting, even! Do you think people always repay good with good? So you dispersed the mages, harnessed them to the state's yoke, and what do you get for it—a pie? Maybe a pie. Just poisoned. It's even funny to hear about your atrocities—let them be afraid!"
"Why should I want them to be afraid? I don't want them to be afraid of me! I want to be respected, loved, at the end of the day!"
"Fool! Only whores want to be loved by everyone. They get paid for this love. But a man always has enemies and friends. Be glad you have both. The former won't let you relax, and how sweet the smell of an enemy's corpse is! Better than any pie! And friends... that's a difficult question. A friend today, and tomorrow? Kheverad was a friend too, so what? He wanted to force himself on your wife. And if she hadn't resisted, if he hadn't had a shred of decency left, Kheverad's descendant would be sitting in her now, not yours. Senerad—he dreams of ascendancy. The old man isn't as simple as he seems. He's very, very cunning. Imar—that one cares about his grandchildren, and if he needs to blow your head off for them, he'll do it without a second thought. Amela? The girl is head over heels in love with you. And by the way, she's a big problem." A girl with a kink – just like your Sanda. For some reason, it's precisely these idiots who fall for you. Maybe there's something about you that attracts them? Kindred spirits? A flawed mind? Amela decides that Sanda is interfering with her and your happiness – snap! And Sanda has no brain. And you won't even know who did it. For all her quirks – Amela is an atroc, don't forget. Even if she's unfinished. Her magical abilities are awakening. Remember how she came in? You didn't even wake up… and she opened the door with a spell. Harald? A simple guy, reliable – you can rely on him… until a certain point. What point? Everyone has their certain points. Isa? This one would kill for his grandfather, for his sister, for his brother. And you're just an acquaintance to him, keep that in mind. You're alone, you're alone, as always. Don't have any illusions.
"I'm not building. But I'm also not inclined to attribute to my friends what they don't deserve. Enough!"
"Don't like the truth? You've always disliked the truth. You want to see the world through rose-colored glass, right? Everything is rosy, kind, and good! It doesn't happen that way, remember that! And if you don't, you'll be terribly disappointed."
"You're not listening to me!" Senerad exclaimed angrily. "I'm going on and on, and he's sitting there sleeping with his eyes open, like a water carrier's horse! Ugh!"
"Tell me, do you have a cure to speed up the return of my magical powers?" Ned asked unexpectedly. "Is there such a cure anywhere? Even if it's harmful, dangerous!"
"Give it up! You can't!" Senerad frowned. "You've made quite a bit of progress, and there's only so much left! Be patient! You can't do things like that!"
"Then there is," Ned said with visible relief. "I want you to cook it. As quickly as possible."
"I wouldn't dream of it! This stuff kills seventy percent of people! It's banned! If anyone finds out I used it, they'll skin me alive!"
"Why didn't you talk about it before? Why didn't you tell me? What kind of medicine is this? And by the way, you weren't particularly concerned about breaking the law before," Ned said coldly, staring at the healer with an unblinking gaze, like a forest snake paralyzing its prey.
"Oh, my gods! When he looks at me like that, I want to shit my pants," Senerad muttered with a nervous laugh. "Imar, would you like some more? Here are some buns; a client of mine brought them to me today, an old lady, she bakes them wonderfully. Sometimes she comes to sit with me and talk about life..."
"An old woman? About thirty?" Imar grinned into his gray beard, nodding his thanks for the fragrant drink that splashed into his mug.
"Well, even if that's true," the doctor grinned, "am I not a man? I'm still quite the man!"
"So I didn't hear an answer," Ned reminded him in a colorless voice, peering into space. "What is this remedy? How does it work? What's the likelihood of my abilities returning?"
"I won't," muttered Senerad, looking away, "I won't, and that's it!"
"Then I'll go to Agar, take one of the archmages and force him to do it under threat of having his head cut off," Ned said just as colorlessly.
"You wouldn't dare!" Senerad squeaked uncertainly and began to cough. The brew flowed from his mouth, soaking his shirt, and the healer cursed foully, shaking off the hot drops. Clearing his throat, he said, "Perhaps you would. So what should we do with you, huh? Very well. I'll tell you. You don't need the mixture—by the way, it's surprising you don't know about this stuff! With your knowledge of magic!"
"Magical science never stands still," Imar shrugged. "By the way, I don't know either. It's strange. Very strange."
"Nothing strange! Only a select few knew! Archmages. Well, and... me. I bought this information with a favor, which I won't talk about! None of your business!"
"He probably poisoned someone," Imar grinned. "And they say demonologists are evil. Mages commit even worse atrocities than us. Tell him, he won't leave you alone."
"He's forcing me to do this, you understand?" Senerad snorted angrily, abruptly pushing the mug away from himself. "But I don't want to!"
"He'll make you do it anyway, whether you like it or not," Imar said seriously. "So why waste time? Speak up."
"Okay, we've finally got the hang of it. Yes, there is such a cure. The mortality rate is seventy percent. Twenty percent go insane. And one in ten regains their magical powers."
"What nonsense," Imar shrugged. "How can this be? How did they determine all this? Where did you get this data?"
"You see, the thing is... The idiot who found this tried the potion on one of the 'scorched' ones," Senerad said wearily. "They've been searching for a way to restore magical power for a long time. The gist of it? The magic that permeates the universe stops accumulating in a certain area of the mage's brain, stops flowing there. Let's call this area a 'magical knot.' So, we need to make sure the 'caked' channels open up, clear out, restore themselves, so that the knot can fill. By the way, my potion is based on that deadly one. And it works. But slowly. This one works quickly. It sort of ruptures all these channels, and the magic begins to circulate freely, permeating the entire body. The explanation, of course, is approximate—no one knows how it all happens—but it's no worse than any other explanation. I'm telling you, we're savages, we use magic without knowing how it works."
"Can we get closer to the topic?" Ned interrupted.
"That's exactly what I'm talking about! Hurry! Don't distract me!" the healer snapped. "Basically, this remedy is disgusting. A one-time dose, a spell, and... whether he wakes up alive in the morning or not is unknown. If he does wake up, whether he'll go crazy or not is also unknown. And whether the channels will open is also unclear."
"But you said they'd open?" Imar frowned. "Why the hell are you contradicting yourself?"
"They'll start opening, and quite quickly. But not instantly—you wake up and you're an archmage! No, the recovery takes a few days—not years or months. That's it."
"So you didn't tell me how you finally figured out that seventy percent die, twenty go mad, and ten regain their strength. You started it and then walked away," Imar chuckled.
"He said it all," Ned interjected, "I understand. The first person to make it tried the potion. And it worked magnificently. He immediately spread the word of its success, the remedy was given to others—many, and… the result is known."
"Yes. Many people died," Senerad nodded. "That was a long time ago, about two hundred years ago. Since then, this secret has been guarded by the agar. Only the most powerful in the agar have access to it. They have a repository of forbidden knowledge. I got into it... it cost me a lot of money. But... I don't regret the price."
"Were you looking for poisons or something?" Imar chuckled.
"Why poisons? I was seeking knowledge! You keep blaming me for these poisons! What's past is past. Alas..."
– How quickly can you make a potion?
"Quickly. I just need to add a little something to my potion, and... that's it. It's ready. An hour, no more. The spell is known. But have you thought about it? Who will take care of Sanda if you die? Why rush? What's the point of all this? It'll all go to waste! Do you want to leave Sanda to another man? Do you want to die in the prime of life? What do you care about these months? Take my mixture, do some simple exercises, and you'll restore your magic. Why risk it?"
"Ned, the healer's right. You don't need all this now. You're doing so well without magic, it's enviable. Magic will come back later; why do you need it with such a risk?"
"I don't know," Ned said, slightly confused. "I think my journey might end badly without awakening the magic. I need to find an antidote for Sanda, and I might have to travel somewhere far away, and..."
"What do you mean, 'and'? The risk is too great, unjustifiably so!" Senerad said excitedly. "I'd understand if the chances of a successful outcome were at least fifty percent, but ten?! This is stupid! Forget this nonsense! This whim!"
"I beg you," Ned said quietly, "make the potion. I won't drink it now. But if I need it, I will. I have reason to believe I'll survive. My body is different from other people's. And write the restoration spell—I'll remember it. Okay?"
"Hmm... alright," Senerad raised an eyebrow. "I'll give you a bottle. I have a silver thing with a screw-on cap, a flat one. The potion can be stored in this bottle for a very long time—the silver preserves the liquid without interfering with the potion's action. The bottle is convenient. And the spell—here it is!"
Senerad quickly wrote something on an eighth-size piece of paper he picked up from the table by the window. He usually used eighth-size pieces of paper to write recipes and directions for preparing potions.
"Here, take it. And I'll get to work on the potion now. As promised. You're a smart guy, and you won't drink it unless necessary, although I admit you have a better chance of survival than anyone. Especially if you stick your sword into someone alive. Do you understand? Yeah, you understand..."
"Oh!" came a long, drawn-out groan, and something below seemed to fall, hitting the floor with a dull thud. "Oh!"
"The prince's waking up. I need to give him a sleeping potion," Senerad complained, "or he'll start acting up. Maybe you should really chop off his head? What the hell do I need a demon for here? He's wet himself, he stinks like a pot! Ugh!"
"No wonder, if he sleeps for so long, he's a living man after all. What to do with him, yes... we have to decide," Ned said thoughtfully. "Maybe I should talk to him? He's a smart guy, and by the way, I liked how the prince acted when he thought he was about to be killed. And he caught us skillfully. If we hadn't been so cunning, he would have caught us, for sure. I feel a bit sorry for him..."
"Should I take him with me?" Imar suddenly suggested. "You're going north anyway, to where the Northern Pass was. Let him come with you."
"And he'll run away on the way? It'll be good if he doesn't stab me to death tonight," Ned chuckled. "I can't stay awake all the time!"
"But you're not going alone. You're going with my grandchildren... No, I'm not going," Imar nodded, "only them. I'm too old for such travels. And I need to keep an eye on things here—make sure my daughter doesn't do anything to Sanda... she's a cunning girl, she'll come up with something you'll never be able to clean up. I'll keep watch over the sleeping queen. Will you trust me with this?"
"Of course I will," Ned said seriously. "Yes, your daughter is quite… hmm…"
"Bitch?" Imar helped, grinning.
"Well... yes. She couldn't possibly have replaced her, you understand? We need to make sure no one, no one else, can get near Sanda's room! And Heverad's room, too. Make some kind of marks on their bodies, seals, or something... with magic, for example. So that only mages can see them."
"We can!" Senerad intervened. "We can install them! Now Zaragor, the head of the Agar, will set up magical seals. He knows how to do it."
- Excellent. I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life with your daughter disguised as my wife.
"You wouldn't have lived with her for long anyway," Imar raised his eyebrows imperturbably. "She would have slit your throat on the first night. After intercourse, of course. She's always been a sucker for sex..."
"Oh! Who's coming here?" Senerad said happily, looking somewhere past Ned's back. "What a menacing one! I'm about to shit my pants with fear!"
Ned glanced back and saw the prince standing at the entrance to the basement, holding a stool leg. He was swaying, a large dark stain had spread across his trousers, and his eyes were cloudy, as if he'd had a hangover. But he held his club firmly and was determined. If his limp foot hadn't tripped on the rug, he might even have made it to the table where the men were sitting.
But he didn't make it—he collapsed. And now he was thrashing around on the floor, speaking in words that weren't at all appropriate for a prince of the blood.