Читать книгу The Heavenly Lord’s Ambassador. A Kingdom Like No Other. Book 1 - Андрей Кочетков - Страница 11

The man behind the table read the scroll closely, and the careless way he held it contrasted strangely with the deep attention in his eyes, which looked as if they were prying what he needed to know out of the very parchment. His chair was of light-colored Torgendam oak, but it had been made so long ago that it had turned dark red-brown. The rest of the furnishings in the room – rugs, paintings, a massive bronze lamp, bookshelves, a marble bust of Norius the Founder, and even the quill pens on the desk – had at least three things in common. First, all of them bore the visible mark of history, because they were very old, some of them even ancient. Second, they were extremely expensive, and not only because they were antiques. And third (which only an expert in antiques would have noticed), they had all belonged to different people in the long-gone past. To be precise, they all once belonged to the greatest emperors of Herandia, who had led the country for the last four hundred years. But the room’s inhabitant would not have liked a loud statement like that. He was vain enough to want to enjoy his treasures in the peace and privacy of his own study.

On the day in question, the lover of costly antiques had made an exception. This exception half-reclined on a sofa made of ekva wood, which only grows in one place on the island of Rbun, which is a two-day sail off the coast of Unguru. Some said that a sofa very much like it had been presented to Emperor Nazalio by an ambassador from the high priest of Mustobrim, who had hoped to prevail upon the Emperor to allow priests of the one invisible god to preach their faith in Herandia. The request had been denied, and now the sofa was occupied by a woman of somewhat less than noble blood. Perhaps it was this knowledge of her humble origins, which had caused her much suffering in secret, that caused her to compensate by means of the most extravagant clothes. Enormous gold earrings with turquoise stones matching the color of her loose dress of the finest Ulinian silk – all in the style worn in the times of the continent’s first kings – contrasted oddly with a lavish necklace of sparkling diamonds, emeralds and topazes, each the size of a fingernail. The effect was antiquated and even a little tasteless, but altogether, the woman radiated a strange, unapproachable magic.

“You’re early,” the man said in a monotone without looking up from the scroll.

“I know,” the woman said in a distracted voice. “But you’re still happy to see me, aren’t you?” The question did not sound like a question.

The man sighed heavily and set aside the scroll with the look of a man who knows that he won’t get much done today.

“You’re certainly dressed up!” he observed skeptically, casting a glance at his companion’s new image.

“I have to wear it all sometime,” she shrugged. “I always dreamed of wearing heavy earrings like these so that my earlobes would stretch to my shoulders like those gorgeous Unguru women's!” At this, she laughed.

“Very well!” the man smiled generously. He scratched his shoulder and began to massage his deltoid muscle. This was made easier by the simple sleeveless tunic of linen he wore.

“I hate it when you do that,” the woman said, making a face. “It’s unhealthy narcissism, if not worse.”

The man’s face took on a business-like expression. “Tell me, how are our affairs?”

“Did you see the report from the inspectors?” she replied with a question of her own.

“What’s the point?” the man yawned. “Sometimes I think we pay them just to distract attention from our real agents.”

“Perhaps, but you always manage to find something important. If not for the present, then for the future.”

The man leaned his head to the right and gestured with his left hand as if he was rolling a piece of bread into a ball.

“They met,” the woman said, sounding as if she were communicating a terrible secret.

“Yes! I knew it.” The man leaned back in his chair and held his arms up in victory. “In Vuravia?”

“In Vuravia,” the woman nodded. “Now I suppose you’ll say that your intuition never lets you down.”

“Who was there?”

“We’ll have a full list by evening. But I know there were Capotians, four of them.”

“From the Council?”

“One was a Secretary. There was also one from the navigators’ guild, one merchant, and a representative of the banking houses.”

“That all makes sense: men who know cargo, trade and finance. And the men who offer protection,” he added. “What about our own people?”

“The heads of all three banking houses – Halava, Repu and Mankarin – were there. All three Big Kinsmen. And a man from the shipbuilders’ guild was there on behalf of the Great Provider.”

“The same people, but from our side. What about the capital?”

“Just Mastersium Krikey.”

“Enel Forsey’s deepest pocket. That’s nice. Who else?”

“He was the only one.”

“That’s not possible,” the man rubbed his chin and gave the matter some thought.

“Here’s the most interesting thing. Do you know where they met? At Dracasium Nerey’s estate. What do you think of that?”

“Ha! Very nice. Vuravia’s richest landowner. Now it all makes sense. Wonderful. But one thing doesn’t make sense. They have to sell the grain once they get it to the Empire. It has to get to the port and then be transported to the granaries and the markets. Who is handling that part of it? And who stands to make money from it? Why didn’t he – whoever he is – send someone to the meeting?”

“What about Forsey’s man?” the woman raised an eyebrow.

“He was there to distract us. We already know Forsey is against the treaty.”

“What if they had a falling-out?”

“I doubt it. I bet they’re just being careful. That means that this meeting was just a first stage. There will be another one with more people from the capital. They have to meet with Fire Asp and his benefactor at the palace!”

“If that’s the case, then I don’t believe such a meeting will ever take place.”

He looked up blankly. “I don’t understand. What do you mean?”

The woman gave a cunning smile to show that she, too, was capable of complex logical deductions.

“Asp had some trouble at the port last night thanks to our dear boy’s friends, the brave but stupid Vordius and the Vuravian twit Sorgius.”

“What?” the man nearly leaped into the air in anger. “I asked you to keep an eye on them and stay a step ahead of their plans!”

“I apologize, but they went for almost a month without doing anything. They were sitting around in taverns like they always do. Then, just when my attention was distracted by the meeting in Vuravia, they went and beat up that pimp Taney and walked right into the Lotus the same day, pretending to be Vuravians, and asked to see Fire Asp. I don’t know exactly what happened, but Asp’s men tied them up and they let on who they really were.”

“Oh, no!” the man clutched his head. “Now Asp will think that the Guards are after him. He’ll call off the meeting and all our plans will march right to the Shadows!”

“Do you think so?” the woman smiled. “I suppose,” she continued with a sigh, “we should have them sent away from the capital. As far away as possible.”

“They’re still alive?” the man’s eyes were round in disbelief.

“Very much so. They escaped and took that redheaded…nuisance girl with them,” the woman said, making her opinion clear. “The same bitch that poisoned Uni!”

The man’s eyes grew even wider. “You mean to say they found her?”

“It’s a question of who found whom,” the woman snorted. “She says she was paid to do the job by a stranger, and that Asp’s men nearly killed her over it. Ha!”

“Of course she said that!”

Velenia slowly stood up and walked around behind the man’s chair. She stood there as if measuring something.

“Someday I’ll kill you, just like this!” they both said at the same time.

“But that isn’t all! The fools felt sorry for her and dragged her back to the Trout, like a pair of utter idiots.”

“We have to put a stop to this circus, may the Shadows take them all! I’d like to see all three of them exiled to the Expanse!”

“You may be right,” the woman said thoughtfully, “but I wouldn’t waste time on Fenia,” and she drew a finger across her throat. “Easier and safer that way!”

“Feeling bloodthirsty?” the man laughed. “She said she was paid to do the job. We’ll cut the throat of the man who paid her as soon as we prove his guilt.”

“Of course, of course,” the woman said absently, her eyes flitting around the room. “I suppose you feel sorry for Fenia. So young and beautiful…” she added, and her eyes shone dangerously. “Or do you really suppose I don’t know about your little rendezvous with her?”

The man leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. He studied his companion’s face attentively the way one might study a mosquito before slapping it.

“Don’t look so serious. I’m mixed up with her, too,” the woman said. “I’ll never forget her scream. So piercing…” and she gave a little laugh. “Relax. I understand. I suppose it has to be this way. I just wanted to remember the good old days.”

“These are different days,” the man said dryly, and a shadow of something cold and remote flashed across his face. “And the game has different rules. You’re useful to me only as long as you remember that.”

The woman looked at him for a full minute. Then she stood up and noiselessly left the room.

* * *

“Eat up, dear. And take seconds if you want! Just look at you – skin and bones!” Emel Virando said as she hovered over the girl. “Have another venison crepe – I made the lingonberry sauce myself!”

Fenia, her cheeks rosy from all the attention, chewed carefully and tried to keep her eyes on her plate. The whole group sat in a small alcove at the Happy Trout (which was usually reserved for very important guests), enjoying some of the capital’s best food as they talked with Uni’s mother.

“How could you hide such a lovely cousin from us for so long, Vordius?” Sevelia Virando asked reproachfully. Subconsciously, she had always felt like Vordius was a second son to her, and she was surprised to find that he had secrets.

“She’s actually my second cousin,” he replied, clearing his throat and looking down at the floor. He felt awful lying to his best friend’s mother, but he didn’t have a choice. “Father and I are always at the barracks, so there’s no one home to look after her. I was hoping, Emel Virando, that she could stay here for a few days…”

“She can stay for the rest of her life, if she wants!” Sevelia laughed. “Vordius, you know that I always wanted a daughter,” here she wiped her eye with a sleeve. “We never had the chance, my dears!”

Sorgius looked up from his roast pig and glanced around the table. His intuition told him that there was something here of importance to him and his companions, but he was not sure it would be right to call up tragic memories that most of them had already heard before. A moment later, Sevelia quieted his doubts.

“My poor Nurelius!” she whispered. “He never had a chance to give life to another child. He was killed in the wasteland on the northern border, in September of the year of the Heavenly Era 380.

“Uni was not yet a year old,” Vordius added softly. “His birthday is in the winter.”

“I wonder how he is faring, my precious boy,” Emel Virando continued, her eyes misty. “In that terrible, far-off Virilan, from which no one has ever returned…”

“That’s because no one has ever been there, at least from the Empire!” Sorgius said brightly. “Capotians go there all the time, and they always return. Your son will return, too, and unharmed. What could possibly happen to him while he’s with the delegation?”

“I pray to our Heavenly Deity that he will not leave a poor widow all alone,” Sevelia replied fiercely. Her eyes betrayed both hope and doubt.

“Mother Virando, were you ever in the Great Expanse?” Fenia suddenly asked with what sounded like childish curiosity.

“Me?” Sevelia said slowly. “No, I haven’t.” Her eyes were blank for an instant, and then it was as if a door shut behind them. “I wanted to go with him that last time, but Uni was still a baby…”

“How exactly did Uni’s father die?” Sorgius asked. “I don’t think you ever told us about it.”

“That’s enough, Sorgius,” Vordius growled quietly.

“I was told that he went deep into the wasteland with a band of Sotrays – the ones who were on our side. But there were other Sotrays there, wild ones, and an arrow went astray. That’s what they told me. It was an accident. He went through the whole war with the Torgs without being wounded even once, and in the end a chance arrow took him! We do not understand the ways of the Heavenly Deity.” She sighed. “He was buried before sunrise, according to the custom of those parts, and only his things were returned to me. I’ll show you…”

“Don’t bother, Emel Virando!” Vordius exclaimed in embarrassment. “Maybe next time!”

“There’s just one small chest.”

Moving stealthily like a cat, Fenia stood up from the table and put her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. Her voice soft and throaty, she said “Mother Virando, it’s already late, and I believe it’s time for all decent girls to go to bed!”

“Yes, of course,” said Sevelia, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Forgive me, my dear, for getting lost in my memories. Come along and I’ll show you to your room.”

As soon as the women were gone, Vordius sat down heavily in his chair and grabbed Sorgius’ arm so hard that the Vuravian almost choked on his favorite cherry beer.

“Are you a complete idiot? Why were you bothering her like that?”

“What are you talking about? I just wanted to learn more about the Great Expanse. She mentioned it first!”

“Did she?” Vordius grimaced. “You were the one who brought up her dead husband. She loved him with her whole heart, can’t you see? There are times, Sorgius, when you ought to respect other people’s feelings!”

“I know that!” Sorgius said, wiping the foam from his lips with a sleeve. “She’s a nice old lady, but I don’t think she cares much for me.”

“Old lady?” Vordius spluttered. “She covers her head, but she isn’t bad looking. I bet she isn’t even fifty yet.”

“You think?” the little Vuravian asked doubtfully. Wrinkling his prominent nose, he gave the matter some thought, quite possibly even performing some mathematical calculations. “No, she’s an old lady,” he issued his verdict. “But she’s nice.”

Vordius shook his head and looked away.

“I’m no expert, friend,” Sorgius went on. “But anyone who’s older than me…” and he took a sip from his wooden tankard.

“Enough!” the guardsman exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table. “Let’s talk of our affairs.”

“What is there to say?” Sorgius shrugged. “We have to go, and that’s going to be a problem for you, my big, dunderheaded friend.”

“Why is that?” Vordius asked in a haughty voice. He poured himself more beer from a round jug decorated with images of the gods of the fields. “No matter how you consider it, my guards badge will help us.”

“Not a bit of it! Who in the wasteland cares at all about our Emperor’s guards?”

“Aha!” Vordius said, raising a finger aloft as he drained his tankard. “I see there is at least one thing you don’t know.”

“For example?”

“Guards officers get sent on regular inspections to all our far-flung garrisons. The idea is for them to get to know the locals. And, I suppose, so they wouldn’t sit around in the capital too much.”

“Oh my!” the little Vuravian leaned back in his chair and raked his fingers across his chest. “Do you mean you can bribe someone to…”

“I don’t need to bribe anyone! Do you think there’s a long line of people looking to get out of Enteveria so they can go sit in a circle on the ground with the unwashed nomads?”

“There’s weed though…”

Vordius snorted. “You know just as well as I do that you can easily buy it right here.”

Sorgius grinned like a cat after a heavy meal. “Sure, because your officers bring it back with them. No one searches their things on the border.”

Vordius shrugged and stuck a fork into a smoked sausage wrapped in bacon. “Here is how the thing works,” he mumbled as he chewed the meat. “I am an imperial military inspector, and you are my scribe.”

“What?” Sorgius asked, eyes round.

“Scribe!” Vordius repeated, this time after swallowing. “You’ll copy down any reports and check all their financial documents. It’s just a lot of boring, pointless work.”

“Sounds like just the kind of work for an inspector!” Sorgius said, pointing at his empty tankard.

“Not at all!” said the guardsman, shaking his head as he crossed his legs. Reaching out a long arm, he easily hoisted the jug and slowly poured its contents into his friend’s tankard. “I’ll be socializing with people. Wine, women, and the best, choicest weed for dramdalaki! And when I recover in the morning, you’ll write down everything I managed to commit to memory.”

With these words, he dropped the empty jug under the table and set Sorgius’ tankard in front of him.

The Vuravian looked down at the tankard and asked, “Did you perhaps forget something?”

Vordius slapped his forehead. “Of course!” He speared the last sausage on the tray and held it to Sorgius’ mouth. “Enjoy!”

The little Vuravian bit off a chunk of sausage the length of his middle finger. The white bacon resisted, like a length of white rope, preventing him from taking his prize.

“Shadow take it!” he muttered, using his teeth to saw through the last strip of bacon. When he was done, he sat up and reached for his beer, but Vordius held onto the tankard tightly with a huge hand.

“Hey!” his friend complained.

“Look!” the guardsman tried to warn him, but it was too late. Appearing out of nowhere, Fenia slid into the chair next to Sorgius.

“I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she whispered. “Finish chewing before you answer,” she added.

Mortified, Sorgius nodded and swallowed the sausage.

“What are you doing here?” Vordius did his best to look offended while his eyes slid to the nightgown that the young woman expertly covered with a folded blanket.

Fenia sighed. “I didn’t think I’d ever get rid of her! The old lady wanted to sit there and tell me stories all night!”

“See!” Sorgius gloated. “The old lady…”

“Shut your mouth!” Vordius waved him away. “And you, what do you want?” he turned to Fenia with a scowl.

She pursed her lips and tilted her head to one side. “I just wanted to know what you’re talking about. We’re in the same boat, aren’t we? When do we leave?”

Moaning softly, Vordius leaned back and closed his eyes.

“Listen!” Sorgius gave a predatory chuckle and put his arm around Fenia’s shoulders. “I think you’ll make a good servant girl. Can you wash a man’s feet and bring him breakfast in bed, my dear?”

Fenia gave him a look of disgust and leaned away.

“Fine,” the guardsman sighed, looking up at the ceiling. “It’ll take me a day to get permission, a few more days to get the papers, a day to get our things together…” He looked around at the other two. “Four days from now, I want you to be ready to leave first thing in the morning. And Sorgius,” he paused, you’re going to get your father’s permission first. I don’t want it to be like last time. Remember the hunting trip?”