"What, what are you doing?! How could you?! Nulan, what happened to you?!" Zheresar gasped, his face flushed, tears streaming down his face. "You weren't like that, were you? Or did I not notice? Didn't want to notice? When you handed me the bag of coins, my share of the Corps's embezzled funds, I was silent, thinking: 'Well, he cares about the soldiers! And I care about them. We're not paid enough for our work, why not cheat the state?' It was hard to take at first, but then it was easy, down the well-worn path! When I saw how cynically you manipulated people, I thought: it's for the good of the cause! He cares about the army! He helps veterans, the disabled—that's how it was! And now, now what are you doing? Who are you NOW?!" Nulan, friend of my youth, the man I would have stood up for even if the whole world had risen in war against you, WHAT are you doing now?! You agreed with those creatures that Ned had to be killed?! How could you, Nul? We once fought off a crowd of guardsmen, you fell, wheezing and fighting, you didn't abandon me when I was knocked down, you didn't run away! WHY now?! Just give me one reason – WHY?!
The general looked in confusion at his friend, who stood before him, leaning on the edge of the table. It seemed as if the table, made of dark, seasoned ironwood, would crack under Zheresar's mighty hands.
– Why? Why… First of all, who told you? Brogan? Corton? Corton, I know… what a bastard! We agreed to send you away… You bastard! What did he tell you?
"Everything. He told me everything," Zheresar said heavily and plopped down into a chair that creaked under his weight. "Did they want to send me away? To do their dirty work?"
"Yes, Eston was right, I shouldn't have dragged you into this. Politics isn't for you. You're honest, pure—just like you were back when we were wild youngsters. Costa, Costa... everything changes. And people change. You alone remain unchanged. On the one hand, that's good—I always knew you wouldn't betray me, that you're one of us, that you'd stand up for me against the enemy. But on the other hand... you have no ambitions, you're content with your position as head of the corps' doctors. You need a quiet home, a family, children, and what have I dragged you into? What a fool I am..."
- Don't! Don't talk about me! You talk about yourself! About what you're planning! About the nastiness you decided to do to the boys! How dare you plan this? And you think I'll watch this vileness unfold and remain silent?
"Kosta, what if Ned and Sanda were two complete strangers? What then? Would you have kept quiet? Would your conscience be clear?" the general chuckled.
"There's no one else in their place. It's Ned and Sanda. Ned helped me, my children. He visited our home, we're friends. Sanda is his wife, and you yourself congratulated her and Ned at their wedding, gave them gifts. You owe Ned your life! And you're so calm about the fact that he could be killed?! That he WILL be killed!"
"Kosta, if you only knew how hard this decision was for me," Heverad said. "Ned is like a son to me. I would be happy if I had such a son. But… remember how many good, wonderful men died in the war. They died because they followed orders, and I couldn't help but give them. They died so that others could live, to save thousands, hundreds of thousands of lives! And now—the scales stand before me, and on them are hundreds of thousands of lives, and one, the life of Ned, the life of a great man, my… my friend. Your friend. Which will outweigh the other? Imagine these people who will die when the civil war begins, and then—when Isfir attacks the weakened state. Thousands of people will go into slavery, the country will be destroyed, Zamara will be no more! There will be the province of Isfir. And your children, your wife, by the way—they could also die or be enslaved!" Imagine your wife in slavery, where she is forced to carry out the master's orders – all orders!
"Don't touch Elsa!" Zheresar croaked, and the arm of the chair cracked under the pressure of his fingers. "Speak for yourself! Don't touch my loved ones with your filthy paws!"
"Oh, Kosta," Heverad shook his head reproachfully, "I'd give anything to avoid this situation! When I saw Sandu, I thought: my head will explode, my eyes will pop out of my head in terror! And then I thought about those who will die if I don't do what I have to. Remember how I sent the third battalion into hell five years ago? I was forced to carry out that maneuver, even though I knew they would die. They would die for victory. Don't you feel sorry for THOSE guys?"
- Nul, it's Ned, Ned! He was so happy to have friends! He trusted us so much! He... he... Nul, you're a bastard! You're still a bastard!
"Yes. I am forced to be a bastard." Heverad rose in his chair and shouted furiously, "So that you, so pure, so upright, would remain upright and upright! Or even believe that you are! Yes, I am infinitely sorry that this has happened! Yes! Yes! Ned—he was given a high place in my plans! And so?! I am forced, I am forced to do this! You understand that Ned will not forgive, that Ned could plot revenge, and then no one will hold him back, no one will stop him! He has no magical abilities now, but what about tomorrow? The day after tomorrow? Can you imagine such an enemy? Unstoppable, powerful! He will destroy the entire realm! He is a demonologist, and there is no one and nothing to oppose him! Even now he is more dangerous than a regiment of men-at-arms, and soon... in short, he is a threat to the realm. And no matter how much my heart bleeds, I am forced to destroy him. Like a dangerous, unpredictable animal that could tear a child to pieces. Sanda? She'll be better off with me than with Ned! Just imagine if she became queen! Everything is before her! All the blessings, all the treasures! I will love her—I think I already love her, she's a good girl. Well, yes, at first she will hate me, but then she will get used to me, she will love me. Do you know what Brogan wanted to do? He wanted to kill her when she ascended the throne, and rule alone! But I will never do that—I will protect her, shield her from all the troubles in the world! We will have children, and they will inherit the throne of Zamara! The state will prosper—no civil strife, prosperity, good for all! For many years to come! Yes, I considered the option of Ned on the throne. That is impossible! Absolutely not! A rootless foundling, the son of the Ards—on the throne of Zamara? The coastal provinces will immediately rise in rebellion! And the priesthood? And the mages, who are displeased that the demonologist wasn't burned at the stake? And the officers, who are already outraged that in the School, the holy of holies, there's not only a rootless foundling, but also a mage! It's like pouring oil on a fire, trying to put out the flames! Send Ned away somewhere? And what, he won't know that Sanda married me and ascended the throne? He's a smart guy, but young, very, very young. Practically a child. Hot-blooded, unbridled, acting not on the basis of reflection and conclusions about expediency, but on impulse. There is no other way.
"There is. There is some other way. And you're lying that there's no other way!" Zheresar said coldly. "Sanda is a smart girl; we could come to an agreement with her! She would do what's necessary for the state, what's needed right now. And there's no need to kill Ned, no need for betrayal, no meanness! What about reaching an agreement with Ned? Explaining that hundreds of thousands of lives depend on Sanda's ascension to the throne? We could arrange a sham marriage! Enlist Ned's help, so he'll keep Sanda in his grasp!"
"No. There's no way out," Heverad sighed wearily. "I've considered that too. I hope you don't think I'm a fool? Well, Sanda won't jump on any strings unless she's firmly in the grip. Remember how she orchestrated her marriage to Ned: it wasn't he who married Sanda, it was Sanda who married him to herself. She's a brilliant girl, but flighty, unpredictable. And I'm sure she'll try to rebel, more than once. And I'm not prepared to take the risk. I'm not about to become a pariah in my kingdom when the girl decides to take revenge on those who wronged her and her husband. When she decides to rule the realm as she pleases. A fictitious marriage? What are you talking about? Imagine you give Elsa to a stranger for state affairs, the man sleeps with her, supposedly fictitiously – would you believe it? And Ned – would he believe it?" And Sanda? She's enslaved Ned like a child, married him to herself – HOW can he keep her under control? Nonsense and nonsense! This isn't just a game, there's enormous money and power at stake here, and even I'll be crushed like a piece of paper and cast aside if I show any weakness!
Zheresar looked at the general with horror and some disgust and, slowly drawing out his words, said:
"You're a terrible man. You're stepping on Ned, tomorrow you'll step on me, on Sanda, on everyone who's around you. And don't lie—power, that's what you want. You realized you could rise above everyone else, that you have a chance to reach the very top—and you broke. You're throwing everyone you care about into the fire, just to cook the dish you want. Who's next? Zayd? Evor? Those who support you now?"
"Even if I decided this was my chance," said Heverad, "what difference does it make? We don't choose our fates; the gods give us what we must accept. And it's very, very hard for me to make such a decision. Whether you believe me or not is irrelevant. It doesn't depend on your faith, it's the TRUTH. Yes, I'm disgusted. I consider myself a brute. But I'm consoled by the fact that I'll do many good deeds, save many lives. And don't add to my pain. I'm in pain. And I want to howl because I can't do anything except…"
"Kill Ned," Zheresar finished, looking coldly at the general. "I had a friend, and now I don't. Heverad, I won't let you kill Ned. I'll go to him right now and tell him everything. And let it be what it will be."
"No. You won't do this. I won't allow it!" Heverad pulled the cord, and the room filled with people. "Arrest him!"
"So that's it?!" the doctor roared. "Try taking it!"
People rushed at Zheresar. The chair shattered, knocking the nearest attackers off their feet, and they fell, either dead or maimed. At least a dozen men fell upon the healer from all sides – hanging on his shoulders, clasping him around the neck, grabbing his arms.
"Don't hurt!" Heverad shouted hoarsely. "Tie him up! Don't beat him!"
The healer seemed to gain strength when he heard Heverad's voice—Jeresar roared, and the strong, trained fighters scattered like paper towels. He pounded them with his fists, kicked them with his huge feet, and advanced like a bear surrounded by hunting dogs.
And he would have escaped, if one of the soldiers hadn't disobeyed the commander's orders. He pulled out a short club of hardwood, bound with strips of copper, and brought it down with all his might on the back of the doctor's head. He staggered, but didn't fall. The crowd rushed at him again, knocking him down, arms flew, the club rose and fell again, and Zheresar lay motionless on the floor, pinned by a multitude of hands, and five minutes later he was firmly bound.
– Take him away. Don't hit him anymore! Take him to the basement! Water, food – everything possible. Guards at the door. Everyone, get out!
Heverad sank helplessly into a chair and watched his bloodied friend go, his head hanging limply, a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth.
He wanted to howl like a dog, to cry – for the first time in decades.
A few minutes later, Heverad came to his senses, took a decanter of the strongest liqueur from the cupboard, poured himself a tall glass to the brim, and drank greedily. He waited, took stock of his sensations, and poured another. Then another.
Half an hour later, he was as drunk as a longshoreman, and the world no longer seemed so vile and vile. Ten minutes later, Heverad was already asleep, smacking his lips, moaning, and kicking his legs like a dog dreaming: a rabbit, fat and insolent, is running away from her as fast as he can, and she can't catch him...
* * *
"Stand here, my children!" the woman's voice was solemn, her robes shone white. "Have you decided to unite your destinies before the goddess Selera? Voluntarily? Is there no compulsion?"
"No," Heverad answered calmly.
"No," Sanda Brogan answered hesitantly, staring ahead with dead, unfocused eyes.
According to time-honored custom, the groom has the right to testify to the bride's virginity. Bride, are you a virgin? Have you ever shared a bed with a man?
"I didn't share. Innocent," Sanda replied, slightly hoarsely, expecting at any moment to be struck by lightning or covered in plague buboes—everyone knows that the plague is sent to people by the gods as punishment for certain sins. But no—no lightning, no plague. A seditious thought suddenly flashed through her mind: do gods even exist? How can they allow lies to be told right at their altar?
– Groom, do you insist on your right to testify to the bride's innocence?
"I insist," Heverad answered quietly and lightly shook Sanda's hand, supporting and encouraging the bride.
- Good. Bride, go through this door. They'll tell you what to do there.
Sanda, dressed in a chlamys similar to the robe of a priestess, padded barefoot through the room where the sacrament of marriage was being performed and then disappeared through a small arched door.
Heverad frowned, patiently waiting for the girl to appear. Five minutes later, the door opened, and a middle-aged woman with a beautiful, serene face stepped up to the altar and proclaimed in a resonant herald's voice:
- Innocent!
The priestess nodded contentedly, looking at the general, and asked again:
– Does the groom insist that his bride lose her virginity with the help of the temple priestesses?
"No," Heverad muttered after thinking for a moment. "We'll manage without assistants somehow."
"Good," the priestess smiled slightly, thinking that the general was a man of power, and he certainly didn't need the help of an artificial device to "record" the fact of marriage.
This custom was quite old, used when the groom was already quite old and there were doubts that he himself would be able to perform the "act of consummation" of the marriage. Without this, the marriage is invalid.
Marriages of convenience were common among the upper classes, where political alliances were cemented by marriage. Often, the bride was very young, and the groom almost an old man. Surely they couldn't use a dog handler or a guardsman to seal the bond? Although such cases did occur... though, after such an act, the "helper" might disappear, ending up at the bottom of the sea with a stone tied to his feet. Why should everyone know that their master was powerless in bed?
There was no shame in the temple's "operations"—after all, they could be ordered by anyone who wanted to spend their wedding night with an already "prepared" young wife and didn't want to be covered in blood. And no one knew whether the groom was truly incapable or just a whim. However, those who needed to know, knew everything anyway. Is it really possible to hide anything for sure in this world?
The second priestess, whispering something to the leader, left the room, and soon Sanda was standing next to the groom again, involuntarily biting her lip and feeling like a slave, like cattle just being examined for health before being sold. They were groping her, looking into her mouth, twisting her around like a doll, with no regard for her mental health or comfort. And Sanda wanted to cry—what was happening was disgusting and completely unlike how she and Ned had celebrated their wedding. Absolutely not.
The priestess was pleased – the temple had received a generous reward from the groom. So generous that it exceeded the usual donation by ten times. And was it worth wondering why it was so generous? The main thing was to conduct the ceremony correctly, document the bride's virginity in front of witnesses, and record it all in the temple books, giving the newlyweds papers bearing the temple seal, where everything that happened was recorded by the temple healers and priestesses.
"The goddess Selera, goddess of love, passion, and the hearth, patroness of lovers, embraces you and calls you husband and wife! Embrace each other, then!"
Heverad turned and embraced Sanda, who stood frozen like a wooden statue. Her lips were cold, like those of a dead woman. He lightly pressed his lips to hers and whispered softly:
- It's okay, everything will be fine, relax!
"Nothing will ever be okay!" Sandra realized, as large, hot tears, like peas, began to flow from her eyes. They streamed down her cheeks onto her chest, and soon the thin fabric became soaked, revealing her brown nipples, straining in the breeze that blew through the slightly open door into the altar.
Heverad's gaze involuntarily fixed on his wife's firm breasts and he swallowed hard, feeling the blood rush to his loins. The girl was beautiful, a desirable gift for any man. And the fact that she didn't love him and shuddered whenever he touched her was a trifle. Time would pass, and they would live better lives than anyone else. The queen and her husband. The highest nobles of the kingdom.