Лилла Сомн – Blood-Stained Pages. Vol. 1 (страница 3)

She sounded grimly satisfied.

– Good, if so…

Slowly returning to his task, the VST agent took the knife and a second sealed container, carefully beginning to excise a small skin sample near the bite-like laceration.

Interesting rash, regardless… Good candidate for witchography. Wonder how many transparent imaging tablets were left in the kit.

The Order Officer watched his actions with a frank, natural curiosity, devoid of squeamishness.

Kantinians couldn’t be denied robust health and strong nerves, nor their frequent lack of imagination, which often bred a startling lack of empathy.

And above all, an unparalleled depth of stubbornness.

…In which Amelia differed little from her fellow citizens. She would certainly argue that point. Stubbornly. And quite vociferously. The girl despised her native city with a passion. In moments like this, the Primian could almost grasp why.

Carefully packing the last sample, Kyle involuntarily allowed a small smile, recalling the fiery Ami once more.

Wish he could reach her somehow… but communication had become problematic lately… Messages flowed only one way, usually via her direct superior, Finnian, Head of Omill’s Witchery. Amelia clearly wanted her boss kept informed while the restless young witch traipsed across the Mainland.

Annoying, but he had to commend her thoroughness. As a field agent, she was very capable. And would be even sharper after finishing her advanced courses in Prime. They said she was impulsive but fundamentally sound.

He hadn’t heard directly from Ami in too long. Had that hyperactive whirlwind gotten herself tangled in fresh trouble? Investigating now felt perilous. That strange case in the Mist had nearly claimed both their lives. Would the less experienced Ami vanish from the face of the Mainland even faster than Inga?

…That prospect felt unbearable.

No. She was likely just swamped. Thinking otherwise… was distinctly unpleasant. And unproductive.

Firstly, Amelia had repeatedly demonstrated an almost supernatural knack for wriggling free from catastrophic binds.

Secondly, while unofficially a rookie VST field agent, she *was* actively assisting in investigating this sprawling, strange case and the search for Kyle’s missing colleague.

And serving as Finnian’s indispensable “hands and eyes,” fulfilling her primary duties. She was undoubtedly swamped. The young witchling’s workload must be crushing…

The “angry Ami” was right about one thing at least: not all Kantinese were cast from the same mould. But right now, he had to deal with the ones who were.

– Who had direct contact with the deceased? – he directed the question at the local officer.

– Practically… no one. “Cept… Marla. She poked ‘im with a poke. Scared out her wits, see… Bloke looked like a risen ghoul. So… we didn’t hold it against ‘er. – she snorted pragmatically.

– Did he… manage to reach her?

– Dunno proper… Doubt it. A poke gives ya reach.

– Definitely. Still. Find Marla and bring her to the Management. I’ll be there shortly. – Kyle swiftly packed the vial with the sample and stowed it, wiping his hands meticulously with a disinfectant wipe.

– Why for? – The servicewoman eyed him with renewed suspicion.

– Just. In. Case. – Kyle enunciated the words with deliberate patience. – I’m not certain yet. But. If an epidemic or toxic poisoning *is* at play… Caution isn’t merely prudent; it’s essential.

He levelled a serious gaze at his interlocutor.

– So…

– So Marla could be as much a danger as anyone in your cells or anyone who’s dealt with these afflicted people. See the potential chain? Trace the contacts… For the sake of your city.

– So, them northerners coulda *planned* this… – the order-keeper’s brow furrowed in dark realization. – T’ain’t just some elven curse… Or *only* an elven curse… *Knew* it! Them pointy-eared bastards!

The Primian squinted incredulously, shifting his sceptical gaze fully onto the speaker. A… “version”?

– I beg your pardon?

– An elven curse, – she repeated, lowering her voice conspiratorially. – Elves are behind everythin’, mark my words. Obvious they want our lands… An’ them empty-headed Youllians musta trespassed on theirs. Paid the price, course. Cunnin’ tree-lovin’ vermin. Cursed ‘em proper. So… now them idiots run rabid ‘cross the Wasteland. Then they fetch up *here*. Simple as mud, that is. No need fer fancy theories… Youllish weren’t never too bright, ya know. Needed us to survive way back. Lost their chance. Now they’re proper ruined. An’ the elves prob’ly hope we’ll get riled an’ finish off them northerners fer ‘em. Do their dirty work. But bald ghoul take ‘em! Stupid elves. We ain’t liftin’ a finger. Just chased the riff-raff off, we did.

The Kantinese woman fell into a gloomy silence, apparently contemplating the ramifications.

– “Chased” away? – Kyle clarified, keeping his tone neutral.

– Yeah. – The officer nodded with grim pride, scratching her ear. – Just recent, a whole crowd o’ ‘em stumbled through… Filthy, starvin’, shakin’ like gnats in a gale. Where’d their high-an’-mighty airs go then, eh?

She snorted contemptuously.

– So you prevented another attack.

– Weren’t no attack proper. They just run like scared jackrabbits. We always took in them northerners afore. But even *our* patience wears thin.

– And… they didn’t even… attempt aggression? – Kyle asked, surprise evident.

– Nary a peep. Who’d let ‘em try anythin’ else here? Mad ‘uns babbled some gibberish in their fool tongue. But who’d listen?

Indeed. Who needed the only potentially dangerous, yet immensely valuable, source of firsthand information.

– Did you recover any weapons from them? Any weaponry at all?

– Weapons? What weapons?.. – The officer looked genuinely perplexed. – Had nowt on ‘em worth callin’ a weapon. Just rags an’ desperation.

So. They drove out the living ones and looted the dead ones. Efficient scavengers.

– The kind of weapon that could cause *this*.

Kyle indicated the torn wound on the man’s shoulder. The Kantinian winced.

– Nothin’… Nothin’ like that. An’ this… Linda said they had *bites*. Well, bites. Like in a common tavern scrap, ya know.

What remarkably amiable tavern scraps they must have here.

What if… the injuries on this clearly aggressive individual weren’t the *cause*? What if the disease were airborne?..

…No point panicking prematurely.

If it spread that easily, everyone would be attacking and gnawing by now… Then again, who knew? Maybe it was still incubating. What *was* the incubation period for this… whatever it was… Three lights, they said. Hmm.

– I see… So, the groups are gone. To where? – the VST agent enquired.

– How in the swamp should I know… – The orderist chuckled, a smug glint in her eye. – We ran them stupid gits clean outta the city… Don’t need their kind here. Got problems enough o’ our own.

True enough. But no attempt at interrogation. A wasted opportunity.

– Was it the first such group?

– Nah. There was two… or three. Not rightly sure. Not on my watch.

– Noted… Three groups.

He frowned. Definitely needed to inform Sandra. How… inconvenient.

– We need no more o’ them devourers here…

“Devourers”, huh? Bestowing catchy nicknames – a hallmark of local wit. Kantinians were truly unmatched in that. Their attention to detail, knack for spotting nuances, and innate cunning cleverness were undeniable assets.

– …Let the stupid Youllians stew in their own swamp now. An’ no elves’ll threaten us. Won’t dare poke their pointy noses here. We ain’t some lily-livered, witchy weaklin’s.

The local woman warmed to her jingoistic theme, while Kyle shook his head slowly, his expression deeply sceptical.

– Elves are formidable. If they desired… well, any lands, they could have claimed them long ago. In the blink of an eye. Without subterfuge. – he remarked with calm reason.

– Must be scared o’ us proper, else they’d showed by now. – his companion retorted, lips pursed stubbornly. – An’ them swampy northerners… Best keep ‘em far off. Nothin’ but grief from that lot.

Practical Kantinese bog-wisdom in full flow. Amelia might grudgingly appreciate the pragmatism, if nothing else.