Ned lay exhausted, his hands behind his head, thinking, thinking, thinking—as Yuragor, his alter ego, demanded. Had he done everything correctly? What had he achieved? Had he done the right thing by invading the enemy's very lair? The first conclusion was that it was impossible to negotiate with them. The Shirduan organization was completely unpredictable, and all its actions were based on the authority of its leaders. Now the Brotherhood was split in two—one for the current Great Atrok, the other for her daughter. If the words of that same daughter were to be believed, of course.
"And why on earth would you believe her?" Yuragor interjected. "She's a lying creature. Just like her mother. Believe only what you see for yourself, what you've discovered, what you've calculated. They can say whatever they want, swear they'll keep their word, promise piles of treasure, and it means nothing. What matters is the result, and for that, they can promise anything. Now, if you were in the Brotherhood, then things would be a little different. You can do whatever you want with strangers—the goddess Death will forgive everything, after all, it's all for the glory of the goddess!"
- Okay, then. But what if we really do kill the Great Atrok?
"Why are you asking about something you know for sure? Either you'll kill every last one of them, or they'll kill you! Have you forgotten that there's a law of blood feud? 'He who kills a member of the Brotherhood must die'? It's not for nothing that Silena herself can't bring herself to kill her mother! No one will understand her. The girl will simply be killed. The only way to destroy the Great Atroc without consequences is to have a council of all the Atrocs decide to execute her. But that will never happen. For one simple reason: if they decide to eliminate the Great Atroc, the same decision could be made against them later—after all, each of them cherishes the dream of becoming the Great Atroc. And besides, what if the decision fails, and the Great One finds out who attempted his life? It's entirely possible that the rebel will be destroyed. The Great Atroc can do it at any moment, unilaterally. On any charge he can think of." But to eliminate him, there would have to be a very, very serious accusation, for example, that he acted against the Brotherhood. That he wanted to harm the Brotherhood.
"I know all this. But I know it from your memories. Hundreds of years have passed. It's quite possible the laws have changed. Notice how they spoke as if the position of Great Atrok was no longer elective. It's now hereditary..."
"Yes, I noticed that. Has everything really changed that much? But still, I'm sure that after you kill your mother, you'll only have hours to live. Silena, whose point of honor is to find her mother's killer, will unleash the whole pack of Shatrii and Atrocs on you. And you… we will die in agony. I don't want to die, and I don't see anything pleasant in my agony. By the way, how do you like the girl? You must admit, compared to her mother's experience and skill, she's no match. She's beautiful, yes… a luxurious body, enthusiasm. Although she overdoes it, feigning universal passion. She lacks her mother's polish, her professionalism in lying. Or maybe she wasn't lying? Maybe you… she liked us that much? I'd like to think that's what happened."
"We're thinking about the wrong thing. The wrong thing. What if we kill both Silena and her mother? What will change then? Look, the Brotherhood will immediately start fighting over who will be the Great Atroc, and they'll probably forget about me. Well... maybe they will. And I'll disappear in the confusion."
"Good. You've already learned a thing or two. So, are you sure they'll let you disappear? If the laws haven't changed, then again—the death of the Great Atrok must be avenged. No matter who killed him. It's the law! They'll be looking for you—it's not just those two women who know about you. You've been seen. It's not hard to connect the dots."
"What am I supposed to do?!" Ned seethed. "There's got to be a way out? How can I stop this stone rolling down the mountain at me?! You keep saying it'll crush me, crush me, crush me! How, how can I avoid it? How can I escape it?! I want to live a normal life, I want to go back to Sanda, start a normal family! I don't want this showdown! The dirt, the blood! And anyway, you're a bad advisor! You don't give me any good advice!"
"I'm not an advisor. I am you. And I can't advise you on anything you don't already know. I'm a part of you. You're talking to yourself."
"Like a madman, huh? So, the task is: you can't kill, you can't not kill. You can't run, you can't not run. What follows from this?"
"We need to introduce some additional figures into the problem. In this one, you're always alone. Why? Don't you have your own people? Friends, as you call them. For example, General Heverad—you could turn to him for help. Tell him about the situation. Imar—he's in your debt and hates his daughter. By the way, I wonder if she's his daughter? They don't look much alike... but that's not the point. Now, Amela and Harald—why wouldn't they be helpful? And I'd like to point out—very strong, skilled. They're top-class Chatrii. And if they develop magical abilities, suppressed by their grandfather for years, they'll become Atrocs. That's a good idea, by the way, but what if..."
- I'm the head of the Savior? Are you crazy?
"No more than you... heh-heh-heh... And that's a very sensible idea. You are the Great Atroc of the Northern Ispas. Your Atrocs are Amela and Harald. And Imar, if he so chooses."
– Revive the Savior?! So you've created a career for me...
"Remember, firstly, you can't accept orders to assassinate members of the Shirduan secret society. It's prohibited by law. Secondly, all conflicts between Shirduan members are settled directly by the Great Atroks of the Ispas. Yes, there were some showdowns, but they were quickly settled at the council of the Great Atroks. There were no full-scale wars… almost none."
"You again! Hundreds of years have passed, they've CHANGED! And the Shirduan organization is no more! Except for one branch—the Southern Ispas! Which could have turned into... demons know what!"
"But the law most likely hasn't changed. 'You can't accept a contract hit on a Brotherhood member!' And if there was a mistake, if someone tried to kill him on contract, he had the right to resist and kill those who tried to kill him! He killed—and there was no prosecution for it! That's the main thing! That's the main thing! Of course, if the attack was illegal. And a contract hit on a Brotherhood member is illegal from the start."
- Wait. So what? Let's talk about it - some man comes and says: I am the head of the ispas! Listen to me! And everyone - yes, yes, we greet you, Great Atroc! You are such a fine fellow, Great Atroc, would you like a back scratch? Are you tired from the journey? Perhaps you could put my daughter next to you?
"Well, that's a good idea. You're too sensitive about things in bed. It's not really that much of a sacrament, in my opinion—no more sacramental than food or drink. Oh well, that's not the point. Go ahead, search your memory—how did they recognize the head of the Savior? What was passed down upon ascending to the Savior's "throne"? What nonsense are you talking about?"
"You're talking nonsense! Where am I supposed to get that medallion? It burned down or was taken away with the treasures of the Northern Ispas! And it's nonsense—who would believe it's THAT medallion? Is it so hard to make another, similar one?"
- So you said it. Heh-heh-heh... if I think about it carefully and rummage through my memory...
"Nonsense! A medallion is just a piece of gold and stones. Nothing more. Until the head of the ispas has real power behind him that can resist attacks from the outside, nothing will come of it. They'll crush him, and no medallion will help."
"And what did I tell you about my army of Shatrii-Atrocs? Alone, you can't do anything. But together, you're powerful. Three Atrocs, three Shanzo specialists, three mages—that's your support. That's the backbone of the future Northern Ispas! And your defense, your support. By the way, don't talk nonsense about the medallion. It's locked to the Great Atroc, and the medallion is imbued with a spell that ONLY the Great Atroc knows. It's passed on to its successor by the Great Atroc, and if he doesn't have time to pass it on, by other Great Atrocs of the Ispas. And these medallions react to each other in a special way—remember that? Well, well! Search your memory!"
"Hmmm... you're right. And I know the spell. I just can't perform it. There's no magic."
"Not yet. But later it will be. So, you need to get out of here, hide until your magic returns, with the help of your friends—Heverad and the old Atrok—and then revive the Northern Ispas. Come out of hiding. And by the way, maybe you should visit the place where the Northern Ispas temple was located? It was near your village... remember?"
- There's nothing left of the city there. You can see that.
"It doesn't matter. We can search. You remember—I hid the medallion before I transfused myself into the helmet. Perhaps it's still there. You can sense it if you cast the spell. It will react. Dig it up. Activate it on yourself. And there you are—the head of the Ispas. You can communicate with the Great Atrok of the Southern Ispas as an equal."
Dig through your memory, don't be lazy! The medallions react to each other!
- Hmm... yes... exactly. Interesting. If only I could find that demon medallion...
"Imar, what for? He's a strong Atrok, that's for sure. He'll find it. We remember the place."
"So, I see. We're getting out... I'm getting out of here, first going to Heverad for help—he's a capable man, he'll help me with money, with equipment for the journey. Then to Imar—let him give me some atrocs, and he's coming himself, he owes me, the old geezer! Let him answer for the insults. By the way, what about Isa? We forgot about him."
"Yes, exactly. You're right about that. And the Shorokan servants—have they been forgotten, too?"
"Hmm... Chatriyas... Listen, it's funny! And what's the purpose of our reviving the Ispas? Are we going to take assassination orders?"
"I would be for that. But you'll just resort to stupid moralizing, saying you want to stop the worship of Death... that you want to revive the Brotherhood and put it to the service of humanity..."
- Who was speaking just now? Me? Or you?
- Both of us. Me. You. Hmm... soon you and I will be indistinguishable. We are merging more and more.
- But that's good, isn't it?
"It depends. At the beginning of our journey, you couldn't distinguish my thoughts from yours, then you started splitting them, categorically rejecting mine. And now?"
"You know, enough about that. Tomorrow, Silena will lead me to where I'm supposed to await the arrival of the Great Atrok, so I can ambush her and blow her head off. I must escape along the way. I don't want to have to kill the girl..."
"Don't think about that. Think about how to get the job done. If she gets in your way, kill her without hesitation."
* * *
"Get up, stop lounging around! All great things are done early," Silena tugged Ned's leg unceremoniously, and he pretended to wake up. In fact, he woke up as soon as he heard the soft scraping of the door lock.
"It would be better if there were no great deeds," Ned grumbled, sitting down on the edge of the cot and stretching like a well-fed cat.
Today, Silena wore a luxurious blue silk dress, looking like one of the daughters of a wealthy noble family. Her firm breasts, lifted by the bodice, jutted seductively toward the sky and involuntarily drew the gaze—the gaze of someone interested in women.
Ned was interested in women, so he ran his hand down Silena's thigh, causing a disapproving grimace and an annoyed sigh:
"That's all you think about... you men are useless! If I had my way, I'd castrate you, leaving only the breeders and those fit for the role of bed toys. I'd leave you safe and sound—you really are good. But now is not the time! Get dressed quickly!"
Silena pointed to a pile of clothes thrown at Ned's feet, and he reached for his underwear, then stopped and pointed at the chain.
– I wonder how I'll go? I won't even be able to put on pants.
– Ugh! I forgot! Lie on your back! Like this… freeze and don't move – it'll be a little hot…
The girl cast a spell, and Ned felt an unbearable heat where the ankle bracelet was fastened with rivets of softer metal. The girl clutched the bracelet, grunting with the strain; the bracelet, weakened by the spell, snapped and bent as if made of soft, paper-thin tin.
"Strong! Well done! Watch out, Ned! She'll rip your head off with her delicate little hands and not even flinch."
- I know. I still feel sorry for her. What will happen when mom finds out?
"Heh-heh-heh... I'd like to see that. Actually, I doubt she'll kill her. Although... Mom's a serious woman and can get very angry. I wouldn't want to be near her when she's angry with me."
"Get dressed!" Silena ordered curtly, flexing her arms. "Here are your swords. And one more thing, don't you dare take any rash steps. I don't trust you one bit." Silena indicated that "one bit" with her slender, manicured fingers. "One false move, and I'll cast a spell at you. And the demon will eat your insides. Alive."
"Will you have time?" Ned grinned wryly, pulling up his pants.
"I'll make it," Silena winked promisingly, "you won't even have time to gasp."
"They have charged amulets, I'm sure. Be careful, really, you won't have time to gasp. They release a spell instantly. The girl is quick. Too bad I don't have magical protection anymore. Martial arts alone won't last long against magic. Or rather, won't last at all. Think about how to take her down. The girl is stupid, but cunning. And besides, my mother taught me caution. However, life in the Shirduan organization is all about danger. No wonder Silena is always on guard. We were taught: trust no one! Not a person, not an object, not an animal! Any object can be deadly!"
– Damn her! How can I get her then…
"It's okay, you'll end up on the street and you'll understand. Or you'll die. Do you have a choice? There isn't one."
"Ready? Let's go." Silena opened the room door, and they stepped out into a long corridor that disappeared into the darkness.
They seemed to be underground. Chatrii, in battle dress, their faces covered with visors, walked before and behind them. They watched Ned's movements carefully, as if he might attack them at any moment. Fools! Until Ned emerged, what kind of attack could there be? Up there—that's a sure thing!
They walked down the corridor and found themselves in front of a staircase leading upward. It ended at a hatch, which was immediately flung open by tents.
Ned climbed the wooden steps, worn by thousands of feet, and found himself in a dark room filled with the scent of onions, spices, roasted meat, and something rich—like wild berry pies. The pungent, sweet aroma of the filling wafted through the air in a slight draft drifting from behind the door. The Chatrii didn't go through that door, remaining in what Ned realized was a large storeroom, while Silena emerged and beckoned to Ned from the doorway.
- Follow me. Right here.
- Where are we?
"This... is one of the taverns. The owner has been recruited by us. He works for us. It doesn't matter. Follow me!"
Passing through the kitchen under the indifferent gazes of the cooks—apparently accustomed to such processions—Silena and Ned found themselves in a large, clean hall, illuminated by mosaic windows. The sun was already high and shining brightly, and Ned's eyes, accustomed over the past few days to the dungeon's semi-darkness, began to ache. He rubbed them with the back of his hand and, almost by touch, made his way to the table where his guide had settled herself.
Silena motioned to the waitress, and soon cups of hot lunch were before them, the mere sight of which whetted Ned's appetite. He began to eat, while the girl told him what he must do. She also told him that he was under the control of the Shatrii, ready at any moment, at her signal, to fire a poisoned dart from a blowpipe or pierce his heart with a small crossbow.
- Exactly. Those three on the right are too intently ignoring the girl's breasts—that's abnormal. And those two girls by the window—their gaze is too languid and absentminded, as if they haven't noticed you. And also—they have fans. And it's not that hot here. Combat fans would blow your head off in a flash. Focus. Launch your body to full power. Use meditation.
Silena continued to speak, but Ned barely heard her. Leaning back in his chair, he began to examine his body, straightening and aligning every cell, every muscle fiber. Ned detected the energy "tsu" in space and began to absorb it through the kankras, certain openings, pores in his spiritual body.
Ned had never used tsu energy so fully before—naturally, he was aided by Yuragor's experience, a master of this technique. A person who could fully imbue themselves with this energy gained strength and speed beyond the reach of ordinary people. There have always been gifted people—in various areas of life, including martial arts. And here, everything depended not only on training, but to a greater extent on how the fighter knew how to use tsu energy diffused throughout space, just as a fire uses dry kindling thrown into the flames by its master.
In the minutes since Ned had connected to the ocean of "tsu" spilling across the universe, he had absorbed an incredible amount of this power like a sponge. Now he was like a kettle about to burst into a cloud of steam from the boiling water. His body twitched with the urge to run somewhere, to do something, and Ned barely suppressed the trembling.
Silena apparently noticed that he was trembling, but decided that her assassin was afraid of the consequences:
"Don't shake. There's nothing to worry about. Sure, she's a powerful mage, but if you shoot her in the eye, she'll die just like everyone else. The crossbow is on the chair, under the rag. The bolts are poisoned. Don't even think about nocking them until I walk out the door of the tavern—otherwise, you'll be killed on the spot. Those are the orders. When she shows up at the door, shoot. Even if you only wound her, the poison will kill her instantly. As soon as she falls, drop the crossbow and walk out—no one will touch you."
"What if she notices, if she dodges the bolt?" Ned asked nervously, his heart pounding like a sledgehammer, driven by the energy that had filled his body.
"She's not expecting an attack here. This is our tavern, everyone's ours, everything is packed with protection—a stranger wouldn't even raise a hand here without permission. Incidentally, according to the theory, you're waiting here for your first victim, preparing to join the Brotherhood. No one knows that the victim will be She. And when they see She fall, they'll assume it's a double."
"What a fool! What is she talking about? How can such nonsense satisfy a normal person, much less an Atrok, skilled in the art of lies?! Now I understand her mother's disappointment. Her daughter turned out a bit stupid. But it's also her mother's fault – she didn't teach her well. What the hell, doubles? What orders? Kill the Great Atrok – they'll tear you to pieces on the spot! You'd have to be an idiot to believe you can get away with killing the Great One. They were given orders to destroy you. After you kill them. But they don't know who you'll kill. She's definitely told them something."
- I know. I'll have to work hard here...
"Yes, well. Speaking of which, the swords have been itching to eat for a while now... demons need to be fed regularly. They need regular nourishment, just like you."
"Okay, I'm off. When you're done, do exactly as I said. Well, see you later, Ned."
- Yeah. In the next world! Silly girl, what a silly girl... but she has nice tits, you have to admit!
"Yuragor, you're a maniac! What are you thinking about at a time like this?"
"At what moment? A moment like any other... kill everyone and run away—that's all there is to it. Is this the first time? The main thing is there's no Atroc here, otherwise they'll stick a demon in their ass. And otherwise—what are they against us? Children! Stupid, incompetent... fucking degenerates. They've reduced Shirduan to the level of some noble house. The mere fact that their power has become hereditary... What can I say—it's time to put them in their place."
Ned chuckled at his thoughts and picked up his crossbow, watching Silena leave. The door slammed behind her, leaving Ned's hands free.
The Great Atrok was supposed to appear at the door in half an hour, so there was still time.
After examining the bolts—there were three of them—Ned chose the one he liked best, placed it next to him on the chair, and then used a special device to pull the crossbow, which was strengthened by magic.
This weapon could pierce steel armor at a distance of ten steps, let alone a person's head or chest.
He placed the crossbow on a chair and froze, scanning the room out of the corner of his eye. Those who were "shepherding" him sat seemingly unperturbed, but Ned sensed their attention and tension. He needed to identify the leader of this group.
After some deliberation, Ned chose a young man sitting boredly in the corner, pretending to be waiting for someone. In front of him, on the chair, lay an object covered with a cloth, very similar to the one now lying before Ned. This young man was likely the eldest, because the group's gazes occasionally turned to him, as if seeking advice and support.
So, everything was ready. Ned sighed, closed his eyes, and steeled himself for battle, a fight to the limit of his strength and capabilities.