Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock... "Heverad is a rich man, since he can afford an expensive grandfather clock, and one like that – in gold, with a case decorated with stones," it suddenly occurred to Ned, sitting at the end of the table.
Everyone was silent, no one started a conversation. Then Colonel Zaid, looking suspiciously at Ned, asked:
– What, should I be searched too? Maybe you'll order me to strip naked… Sergeant!
"No, Colonel," Ned replied calmly, looking at the floor, "you had no reason to kill the king. Besides, you're a smart man; even if you did poison the food, you got rid of the poison long ago, and there's no point in searching you."
"This is outrageous!" the colonel said, spreading his hands helplessly. "A sergeant says such things to me, the commander of the Zamara armed forces?! Evor, did you hear that?"
"End the show, will you?" Evor grimaced with annoyance. "We all know Ned was Heverad's confidant, and he's now investigating. It's clear we didn't stage the assassination attempt, and he knows it. But what to do now, I just can't figure out! The king is asleep, the queen is asleep, there's a criminal in the palace who needs to be driven out, and what are we going to do? Who's going to command the palace takeover?"
"Colonel Zaid, of course," Ned said calmly. "You'll be in command... and we'll be telling you what to do. Me, Imar, the rest of you. We have more information, so we know what needs to be done and how."
"Then share this information, and we'll decide what needs to be done!" Zayd flared up.
"General Hevarad shared this information with you? No? Then I have no right to divulge it either. We'll tell you what needs to be done, and what needs to be done is what Hevarad intended before... being poisoned."
"How am I supposed to know it was Hevarad who gave you the orders, and that you didn't come up with them?" Zaid muttered. "Maybe he didn't tell you anything!"
"Perhaps he didn't," Ned sighed. "You'll have to take my word for it. The King will wake up one day, and if, thanks to you, the matter is ruined, I don't envy your fate."
"If he wakes up," Zayd said grumpily. "I'm not so sure."
"If you're not confident in your king's loyalty, you should resign and retire," Ned said coldly, looking the colonel in the eye. "Your talk already sounds like a state crime!"
"Okay, okay, don't get worked up!" Zayd grumbled, unable to hold his gaze and looking away. "We're all upset, we've gone from a feast to a... wake. Colonel Brogan, why aren't you speaking?"
"What am I supposed to say?" Brogan muttered. "I have to bury my brother soon. And the guy's got a point—you should just shut up and listen! Whether Heverad told him anything or not, the sergeant is clearly in the know and knows more about the conspiracy than you do. He, as I understand it, was the general's advisor and a specialist in covert operations. Rumor has it he's actually his illegitimate son. By the way, where's his real son?"
"He sent him to a distant estate," Ned nodded. "The boy behaved badly, brought shame on his father."
"Yes, yes... I heard. Disgusting! Our time is a time of effeminate men and masculine women. A complete decline in morals! But that's not the point. Tell me, boy, what to do. Everyone is confused, there's disarray and instability—we need to unite around someone. Why not around you? The king will rise—he'll put everything in its place. Are you really sure he will rise?"
"Yes," Ned said firmly. "We need to find an antidote, and he'll get up. We know what to look for. We'll keep looking. We need an antidote for the kaldrana."
"Something familiar..." Evor snapped his fingers. "Something so... epic, ancient... Oh! Wow! And how did it end up in the king and queen's stomachs?"
"It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter at all," Ned frowned. "We'll have to send out a cry throughout the world, even to Isfir, that we need an antidote for the kaldrana. At any price. By the way, who is legally supposed to replace the king? Well, if the king and queen are incapable of ruling?"
"There have never been such cases," Evor replied, confused. "There have always been some royals who have remained healthy."
"And yet—who will make decisions in the king's stead now? Well, he's gone, who's going to replace him? But he's alive. And?"
"A demonic situation," Zaid muttered. "It really is all in vain. Everyone will pull the blanket in their own direction, and... What are you proposing? Who's in charge?"
"The three of you hold all of Zamar's power in your hands. You three will rule until the king rises," Ned shrugged. "You are the war council, you take responsibility. Decisions are made by majority."
"I don't mind," Brogan commented in a hoarse, broken voice. "That would be the right thing to do. We'll write a document and announce to the people that... the king is ill and the war council is temporarily fulfilling his duties. Where will we be based?"
"What difference does it make where?" Zaid snapped, obviously expecting to be put in charge. "So what if we hold our meeting in the town hall? The point is, we have the real heir, Amunsky, right under our noses. Alive and well. He'll just have himself crowned. Royal blood runs in his veins. The nobles might recognize him as the true king. If they turn against us, I don't know if we'll survive."
"Then stop this idle chatter," Brogan barked. "If he wins, our heads will be chopped off! Do you want that? I personally don't. Did Heverad have any plans for taking the palace, Ned? Or are we just going to have to storm it until the mercenaries run out or we're all killed? We have more soldiers, why not just strangle him in the palace? And why are we standing around instead of storming it? Explain to me what the gene… the king is planning."
"So, here's the deal. If we attack the palace head-on, everyone will die. They have demonologists among their defenders, and very powerful ones at that. Zhordar is the leader of the demonologists."
"And I thought they were just telling people about demons to scare them, to make Zhordar look like a villain," Brogan raised his eyebrows in confusion. "Maybe he really is a corpse-eater then?"
"I don't know his culinary preferences," Ned said seriously, to Amela's snort. "He might be a corpse eater. But he's a powerful black magician and demonologist—that's for sure."
"And also an advisor to the new King Gyrsos," a voice rang out from the doorway, and the head of the Brotherhood, Great Atroc, appeared in the room. Dressed in a tight-fitting black men's suit, with two swords tucked into her belt, she looked like the embodiment of Death.
"Who is this?" Zayd asked, dumbfounded. "How did she get in here? Who are you, my dear?"
"Gyrsos staged a coronation. My observers heard him being crowned. One of them managed to return, two died. And this one returned miraculously. To die in my arms. That's how it is. We can't enter there. Zhordar has everything properly surrounded. He knows how to hold a defense, you can't take that away from him."
"These are our allies," Ned explained, "secret allies. Demonologists. This is their leader."
"Allies... bye," the woman chuckled. "Decide quickly. According to my information, two corps are marching on the city. And three more are on the way. Mercenaries and soldiers allied with Hyrsos. I don't think there will be any bloodshed."
"They won't enter the city," Zayd dismissed. "We're ready. As soon as we see the soldiers approaching, we'll close in. These walls can withstand the onslaught of several armies. No big deal. And if we have demonologists as allies, that'll be the end of the attackers. I'm more interested in the palace. How do we get Amunsky out of it? Problem! But there are some silver linings to the situation—how will they get out? Well, to rule? To reign to their heart's content? They sit there, we sit here... and what happens? Deadlock!"
"Dead end," Ned echoed, looking at the door. Zheresar's figure appeared in the doorway, Gerlat striding alongside. Behind them were two more frail figures.
Zheresar entered the room and, ignoring those present, approached Ned and said:
"I report. The queen and king are stable, alive and will live for a very long time. Security has been posted, two of my men are on duty next to them. The guards have sealed off the corridor. The poison has been cleared from their bodies. As soon as an antidote for the caldrana is found, the king and queen will wake up as if nothing happened. That's all."
Zheresar carefully sat down on the chair with its curved, lacy legs, but it supported his weight and only creaked slightly. Gerlat sat down next to him, announcing:
– Everything has been said, nothing to add.
Then he looked at the imperturbable head of the Brotherhood and asked with interest:
"And who is this handsome one we have here? Would you introduce me to this beautiful and warlike lady? Oh! Our lady is a black magician! A demonologist! I inform you, oh beautiful one, I am completely free today. May I invite you for a glass of wine at the tavern?"
"Idiot," the woman muttered, turning over her left shoulder to Ned, "If you need me, you know where to find me."
Having crossed the threshold, the woman disappeared, as if dissolving into thin air, and those around her, seeing this "trick" for the first time, gasped, not believing their eyes.
"A lover of cheap effects," Imar muttered. "This was once a secret, and now? Fool! Degeneracy, complete degeneracy."
"She's going legit," Ned shrugged. "Besides, it's just a ploy. Like, let them know I'm somewhere nearby, always on guard. She's not stupid and she knows what she's doing."
"Well... maybe," the old man admitted reluctantly. "Let's get back to business. How do you plan to take the palace anyway?"
"Who said we should take it?" Ned asked sullenly, scribbling his finger on the table.
- What then? Oh gods! But you won't make me!..
"I'll try. This way I'll save our people. The palace—who cares. We'll build another one."
- There's the treasury! There's the royal house's treasury.
"And what will happen to her? We'll clear away the rubble and take out the treasury."
"Yes, that's the solution," Imar admitted, looking at Ned with a mixture of admiration and horror, "but... only if you can force them to do it. How? With threats? With promises?"
"Whatever it takes. Threats and promises—anything I can. Even if I have to kill half of them..."
"What are you whispering about?" Zayd asked suspiciously. "Speak up in front of everyone, otherwise I'm seeing conspiracies!"
"I know how to defeat Gyrsos. But... I need everyone's help. All the help I can get. Gerlat, and yours too."
"Mine?" the mage drawled slowly. "They'll never agree to that, you know that... Stop! What are you doing? You want me to become a traitor to the agara? To betray its interests for you, for the sake of social life, for the sake of politics? Really?" Gerlat paused and added cheerfully, "Easy. I'm getting fed up with their stupidity. Mages can't be above the state—their job is to serve the people, to serve their country, not to pretend to be some otherworldly being! I told them long ago that this would end badly. Tell me what I should do."
"You need to gather all the mages of the city agara and the army in one place—you have a hall that can accommodate several hundred people, right? Yes. Excellent. Bring everyone there. And inform them that a representative of the king, authorized by the war council, will speak with them. You grant me that authority, gentlemen?"
The colonels nodded their heads affirmatively, following the conversation with interest.
"So, at a certain time, all the mages gather and wait for me, and you, gentlemen, prepare the elite troops and surround them with agar on all sides, so that not even a mouse can slip through. Well... I go to them and persuade them to participate in the destruction of the enemy."
"And you think they'll agree?" Evor asked skeptically. "As far as I remember, there's never been a case in recorded history where mages have bowed to the secular authorities when it comes to political conspiracies. They're always above the fray. But really, it would be great to break through the wall, and..."
"There will be no breaching of the wall," Ned frowned. "We must destroy everything, completely. So that instead of a palace there will be a pile of ruins. So that not a single enemy man escapes and not a single one of our soldiers is harmed. And that's the only way."
The crowd fell silent, looking at Ned with disbelief and horror, as if he were a demon incarnate. The hall grew silent, and only the clock reliably counted the time, slipping away, flowing like sand on the seashore. Tick-tock! Tick-tock! Tick-tock!
* * *
Ned walked through the gates of the agara, where two young mages stood. They looked Ned over from head to toe, and when he said he had arrived as a representative of the war council, showing a paper with the army seal, they stepped aside, letting the stranger in. They thought he was too young for such a mission. He arrived without an escort, without a guard—what kind of representative was he, by the devil?
Their thoughts were written on their foreheads, and Ned chuckled—it was a shame he'd lost the ability to hear thoughts; he'd like to hear what those idiots were saying about him. Though, in recent days, he'd occasionally heard snatches of other people's thoughts, isolated words, but... he tried to ignore it, turning off his mind-ears. Why listen to meaningless croaking? It was nothing but a headache.
A wide staircase of white stone, glittering in the sun, and at the top, a man in the uniform of an army mage. One of those who served in the Corps—Ned had seen him next to Gerlath.
The mage leaned towards Ned and whispered:
"Everyone's here. And the High Mage, too. They're in an aggressive mood. They're planning to fight back against the insolent secular politicians. Be careful. Come, I'll show you to the hall."
Ned nodded silently and followed the magician, his gaze fixed on his broad back.
Now everything would be decided. Or it wouldn't be. In any case, he had no intention of backing down, even if he had to cut out all the agar. But Ned hoped it wouldn't come to that.