The First Dance of Rapsamash
Chapter 8

They came the next morning. Three guards lined up all the adult Taulars in front of the barracks, instead of herding them to work in the mines as usual. Rapsamash was seriously nervous and constantly looked at her uncle, standing on her right. He tried to calm her down in every possible way, but he himself did not understand what was the reason for the sudden formations. Luckily, they stood at the far left end of the row, and the guards did not pay too much attention to them.

— Well, baldies, will you confess yourselves, or will we beat you until the culprit is found?

Kavir, who had brought two other guards with him, strutted in front of the formation, shaking his whips in the air.

— What is there to confess, flat-face? — Unlad’s voice came from somewhere far to the right.

A whip whistled through the air, then a sharp blow sounded

— Three-fingered wants to become fingerless, as I see. Well, c’mon, who else wants their skin spoiled?

The uncle cautiously leaned towards Raps and began to whisper hastily: “If it was serious, there would be more guards, they wouldn’t line us up here, they would lead us out one by one and interrogate us. They themselves don’t fully understand what happened. They’re making a show... I don’t think it’s related to the plan or the sorcerer.”

— Why so silent? Hair stuck in your throat? Are you going to vomit it right on your feet again? — Kavir spat on the ground in front of the line, — Can’t get through to you, stupid animals? Well, I’m waiting.

— And we’ll wait. It’s nicer to stand here than to work in that damn mine, — this time Sanlad raised his voice.

The whip got to him too.

— Who was in the cage and broke the lock on the door?! Huh?! Confess, now! Or else I’ll choose someone and beat them to death!

Silence hung in the air, Raps was frantically thinking about what to do. So they found that someone had been at the cage. As long as Kavir didn’t get too far with the whip, she needed to act. He wouldn’t beat her, after all, there was only one day left. She decided to step forward, but her uncle stopped her.

— It was me, — unexpectedly, Isar, a stocky red Taular who often hung around with Sanlad and Unlad, stepped forward.

Kavir immediately struck him twice with his whips, deeply gashing his shoulder.

— And why did you do this, may you be damned?

— You threw a little girl in there. She didn’t do anything!

Another blow sounded. Raps flinched just hearing the whistle of the whips in the air. She couldn’t watch her congener being beaten for nothing, but she couldn’t intervene: her uncle was holding her hand tightly.

— It’s not for you to know what she did. How did you get into the mine?

— You should make the bars even wider.

Blow.

— How did you break the lock?

— With a stone.

— Where did you get the stone?

— There are plenty in the mine, if you haven’t noticed.

Blow.

— Where’s the girl?

— Your though?

Blow.

— Where’s the girl?

— Go into the cage and see for yourself!

Blow.

— Where’s the girl?!

— Eaten! She was eaten! There were blood and bones everywhere!

Another blow. Isar glared at Kavir, bleeding. His clotted red fur seemed black in places where the whips hit.

— Take him away! — Kavir ordered the guards who came with him, then turned back to the line, — And you will now go to the mines as usual. And know that thanks to your kinsman, who has been bitten by a flea, the path to the cage is open. So if you get eaten, like the girl — you can thank him. Move, quickly! No time to dawdle!

The whips threateningly whistled over the heads of the Taulars. The guards grabbed Isar and led him to the exit, while everyone else trudged to work in the mines. Raps was beside herself. Her innocent comrade had just received the punishment that was due to her. Why? Why did he step forward? Why did her uncle stop her?

— Raps, don’t blame yourself. Isar did this for all of us, we can’t risk you, — her uncle tried to cheer her up already in the mine tunnels, — If you had come out now, there would have been more questions for you, as a weak girl. Isar acted wisely, we still have all the chances to implement the plan.

— It’s a pity, though, that we had to exchange a worthless flat-face for a strong fighter, —Unlad joined the conversation.

— If it weren’t for Arti, we wouldn’t have a chance to escape! — Rapsamash’s confusion was turning into anger. She wanted to square off with Kavir right now.

— Oh, I’m sorry, I think they put her in the cage because she covered for you when you were almost caught stealing. So, she fixed your mistakes, didn’t she?

— Unlad, stop it! Raps, you are very important in our plan, and there is no one who could replace you. If anything happens to you — we are all dead. So... please, bear with it one more day. One last day, and everything will change tomorrow.

Rapsamash understood Unlad’s resentment. She had indeed been covered for the second time. But soon this would end, she was ready to lay down her life for the lives of her congeners. And take as many lives as possible of those who oppressed them.

By evening, they brought Isar back, with a wooden stick instead of his left leg.

***

At home, Raps laid out in front of her everything that was needed for their plan tomorrow.. There were only a few hours left before she would be taken away and prepared to meet the Vizier. And that’s where their path to freedom would begin.

Arti was next to their mother, watching her sister curiously as she bent over a runic blade, a strange, empty-looking jar, and a few pouches. Before applying the invisible ointment to the blade, she decided to practice its transformations again: spear, dagger, sword, blade whip, hook, spike — and so several times in different sequences. Sometimes she imagined completely strange weapons, like a cross-shaped knife or a sword with multiple blades sticking out in different directions. The most important thing was to transform Suiaravka from a spike into something more deadly, with which you can kill with one blow for sure.

— Rapsi, you need to rest and sleep.

— This blade helps me not to get tired that much, mama, so... I don’t even know if I can sleep.

— Hardly anyone will be able to close their eyes tonight, dear. Our fate will be decided tomorrow, after so many years it will be back in our hands. But you need to save your strength, you will need it, very much so.

— You should rest too, mama. It’s going to be hard for you when one of ours carries you. It will shake, it will be uncomfortable...

— Don’t worry, Rapsi, everything will be fine. Come here.

Rapsamash obediently put aside the blade and went to her mother’s bed. She tenderly hugged her. Arti, jumping off the bed, also hugged her sister’s legs — she couldn’t reach any higher. They stood in silence for a moment.

— You must survive, Rapsi.

— I will survive and catch up with you, mama.

— Whatever happens, dear, take care of Arti.

— I will... You’ll be able to, too, mama. You’ll get better once we get out of here, you’ll see!

— Oh, Rapsi, if only it were that simple... If everything was that simple...

— But you said everything would be fine. And so it will be. Everything will be fine, mama!

Both the mother and the daughter cried softly. Raps understood that this might be their last night together. The last time they could hug each other like this. But she didn’t want to believe in it.

— Don’t cry, don’t cry! — Arti said sniffling and trying to hold back tears.

— Arti, you take care of mama, okay? — Raps gently ruffled her head. This little girl no longer seemed so alien, annoying, and disgraceful to their kin as she thought just a week ago. She was ready to accept her as her own, her congener, ready, like the rest, to give her life for others, despite everything.

— I will take care! And I’ll behave! But you come back! You’ll come back, right?

— Yes, Arti, I will definitely come back.

Rapsamash wanted to stay in her mother’s arms forever, warm, full of love and tenderness, protecting from all troubles, but... But if she can’t free her people, none of her loved ones will be lucky to experience what she was experiencing. There will be no her, no mama, no Arti... She couldn’t let that happen.

— Mama... I love you.

— I love you very much too, Rapsi.

— And I love, I do! I love both of you!

***

When Kavir came for her in the morning, Rapsamash was ready: five small pouches under her shirt with sleeping powder and the invisible spike-blade, which she could draw at any moment. Arti had already hidden herself in a crevice, waiting for the uprising to begin.

— Today is the day, baldy! I won’t see your insolent face in my mines anymore! — he led her to the exit from the dungeons, where she needed to start scattering the powder, where the Vizier’s guard should have been waiting for her.

— I hope, nor will I see yours.

— Oh, don’t be cheeky, or it will be even worse for your mother than I would like. By the way, I’ll visit her this evening, the Vizier doesn’t need her anymore.

The girl’s fur bristled instantly. Turning sharply, she barely restrained herself from pulling out Suiravka and thrusting it into the guard’s throat.

— You won’t live till the evening, I promise!

— Oh, such big words! Too bad, I don’t believe in their truthfulness. Go, you underground scum, you’ve been granted a great honor!

Approaching the exit, Rapsi unnoticeably untied one of the pouches. A thin, barely discernible stream of gray powder rushed down, mixing with the sand. The main thing is not to inhale it herself, or the plan would come to an end.

At the entrance to the dungeon, there were about a dozen people, four of whom clearly stood out: the Vizier’s guards wore metallic breastplates and helmets from which protruded long gray feathers of some unseen bird. In their hands were shields with an emblem of an inverted moon pierced by a sword, and long spears, at the tips of which also dangled gray feathers. The other guards looked at them with some envy and respect. Raps untied the second pouch. She needs to get rid of them before she will be inspected.

— Don’t mess up in front of the Vizier, may his name be glorified, halfwit! — Kavir pushed her on the shoulder, — And I’ll take care of everything here without you, don’t worry.

Rapsamash hissed at him, baring her teeth. The Vizier’s guard parted, revealing a small cage that Raps realized she needed to climb into. She hesitated, so the guards surrounded her and, taking her by the arms, led , almost throwing her inside.

— If you resist, it will hurt more, — one of them grumbled.

They surrounded the cage, lifted it, and taking it out onto the street, placed it on a cart harnessed by a pair of horses.

The sun was already high in the cloudless sky. Rapsamash squinted from the bright light, observing the half-empty streets of the city, the yellow walls of houses with flat roofs, rare trees, and dark alleys. Here and there, gawkers, looking at their small procession in surprise, whispering to each other. Raps tried to remember the way and imagine where she was on the map that Uncle Sangar drew a couple of days ago. It wasn’t very successful, but not likely because uncle remembered the city incorrectly. Rather, she should think about something else now: what to do with the remaining powder and pouches? She had thrown two empty ones away while the guards were distracted by street dogs barking at them, but there were still three left. Should she try to put someone else to sleep, or is it better to get rid of them right now while she has the chance? She is unlikely to be taken to the Vizier directly in a cage, as she will have to put on the very dress for the dance. This also meant that she had to take off the shirt, and by that time, she needed to get rid of the sleeping powder... She decided not to take a risk, and as soon as the guards turned away from her again, she quickly threw the pouches over the wall of some yard.

Soon, the cart turned once more, and Raps realized that she had gotten rid of the bags just in time: right in front of her was a large square, paved with colorful mosaic stones, with solitary but evenly, neatly, and symmetrically planted palm trees, around which small flower beds, red, blue, and violet, were also laid out. The road here was smooth and clean, unlike the city streets. And there were many people and other guards, lined up on both sides of the road. Part of them were in the same attire as the four carrying her on the cart, but the other part were dressed in different armor, with different helmets - pointed and without feathers - and different emblems on the shields. Raps recognized these emblems - the same ones as on the boxes she carried in the kitchen: a white rectangle-door on a purple background. Are these the knights of Shardin? There were so many of them... This could be a problem. Rapsamash wondered how she could warn her congeners about a possible serious threat, but now she was far from them. Perhaps, forever.

The cart was moving straight to the palace which was majestically towering over the square. Its high white walls with arches and tall windows decorated with colored stained glass, elegant hexagonal columns and turrets topped with bell towers and gilded domes, marble staircases, fountains with carved statues... Rapsamash suddenly remembered that she had seen them long ago when she was very small. This grandeur, wealth, cleanliness. The sight was breathtaking. The Vizier suddenly seemed to her a god in the flesh, otherwise why build such a thing? And now she was going straight there. Raps could barely imagine what awaited her inside, trying to recall the memories from her childhood.

Finally, drawing close to the staircase leading to the palace, the cart stopped. The four guards removed the cage from it and carried it further on their shoulders. The girl could hardly take her eyes off the gardens and fountains that had opened up before her. But she wasn’t here to admire them. Raps sharply shook her head, dispelling the sudden intrusion. This palace... It was built on the blood of her people, from stones and jewels mined by her people, it was sustained by their suffering, deprivation, and hardship. It grew under the shade of the sun while they perished in the depths of dungeons. And she would take it away, destroy it if she could, but only after she returned freedom to her people.

At the main gates, which, as it seemed to the girl, were made of pure gold, two rows of guards stood, all with grey feathers on their helmets. Two of them stepped forward, grabbed the ring handles, and with an obvious effort opened the doors in front of the procession. Rapsamash finally saw what was inside: high ceilings, luxurious red embroidered carpets, white arches of passages, pots with numerous flowers, and all of it was illuminated by the light passing through the stained glass windows, shimmering and coloring everything around. It seemed that she had moved to a completely different world, as if all her previous life had no colors, only vague dark shades, drowning in the darkness of the dungeons. Now everywhere she was surrounded by light, cleanliness, filled with all sorts of bright colors and elegance.

Raps was even ashamed of the way she was brought here: a dirty, tattered rag in a patched shirt - one patch on top of another, not washed for weeks, surely stinking... in such a clean and majestic place. The girl clenched her hands on the bars of the cage, looking at various rooms with paintings, mosaics, fountains, and statues, while she was being carried somewhere deep into the palace. Somewhere far away music was quietly playing. Raps bit her lip. “Don’t let all this pomp and bloody wealth deceive you, Rapsamash!” she kept repeating in her head, “You’re not here for this, this is the heart of the enemy, his treasury, his weapon! He tries to break you, to make you believe that he, like a god, is invincible, since he possesses such grandeur. No, no, he’s an ordinary man, an ordinary man, a mortal man...”

They stopped in a small room with small windows, markedly different from those spacious high halls they had passed a few moments ago. The guards placed the cage on the floor, one of them opened the grate. From a modest, by the standards of the rest of the palace, wooden door, several pointy-eared elf girls fluttered out in light dresses, but barefoot, barely older than Rapsamash herself.

— Clean her properly, and after dress her in the prepared outfits. The Vizier awaits her reception, his name be praised! You have one hour.

One of the girls, taller than the rest, nodded and silently gestured to the other elf girls to help Raps. Two guards left, taking the empty cage with them, and two remained to stand guard at the door. If she was to be washed now, she must immediately hide Suiravka somewhere it won’t be found. She swiftly took out the invisible needle from the folds of her shirt and put it in her mouth, catching it with her teeth across. She could only hope that this would not damage the thin layer of dried invisible ointment. The elf girls led Rapsamash by the arms through the door from which they had just run out. There were five of them, and apparently, the tallest of them was the eldest. She walked ahead, continually gesturing to the others, who simply nodded silently. Who were they? Were they mute? Why were they in the palace? Servants? Concubines? Raps wanted to ask them a question, but instead, she clenched her teeth more tightly so that the needle wouldn’t accidentally fall out.

They led her into a room that apparently served as a bathhouse for the palace servants: there were tubs everywhere, buckets with long brushes sticking out of them, neatly folded white cloths in the corner, probably for wiping with, and the room itself was shrouded in a slight mist of steam rising from barrels full of water. Releasing Rapsamash right in the middle of the bath, the elf girls began ruthlessly undressing the girl, and her visible indignation only made them wave their hands more actively, seating her on a small wooden stool. It’s good that she managed to hide Suiravka. Two elf girls, grimacing and throwing away the dirty clothes taken from Raps, began to fill the tubs with water, dragging them closer to the girl. The soap smelled of fruit and was nothing like what was given to the slaves on bath day: that was almost a piece of dried pig fat, this was soft, gentle and fragrant. Raps clenched her teeth even harder. So as not to wash off the ointment from the needle, so that they would not accidentally stumble upon it... She completely surrendered herself to the elf girls’ hands, helplessly extending her hands in different directions while they soaped her, scrubbed with brushes, washed with water, and so in a circle. The girl was even surprised at how black the water was when she was doused from a bucket for the umpteenth time.

The elf girls, now thoroughly soaked themselves, started playing with the foam and splashing each other. Seeing this, the eldest initially stamped her foot, but she was soon drenched in water as well. They laughed, if those strange throaty noises could be called laughter. Even Raps almost cracked a smile involuntarily. And at that moment, one of the girls cut her hand on the protruding tip of the invisible needle. Blood flowed from her hand, she recoiled sharply and with visible surprise examined her wound, then shifted her gaze to her frozen companions and Raps. The captive bared her fangs without a second thought, “I hope she thinks I bit or scratched her.” The merriment vanished, the girls cautiously finished washing the prisoner and, when the water cascading from Raps ceased to be dirty, they carefully began to comb her out and wipe her down with white cloth rags.

Raps had to twist her head from side to side to ensure no one else accidentally stumbled upon Suiravka. She didn’t want to harm these girls; they, like her, were also slaves. Although their place under the sun was certainly more pleasant than the dampness of the dungeon... but Raps didn’t consider them enemies.

Finally, the bathing procedures were completed, and the elf girls gently led the prisoner, partly wrapped in white rags, into a small but bright room with a round stained-glass window. The room was furnished only with a couple of chairs and a simple bed, even modest by the palace’s standards. Raps, who had stopped admiring her own fur, which now shimmered in the light from the careful grooming, thought that if she wished, she could easily escape from here through the window: according to her estimations, it was not high up, and the courtyard through which she was recently paraded could be seen. In the courtyard, she could easily lose herself in the crowd... Someone shook her by the shoulder. Raps turned around: the tall elf girl was pointing at a dress, neatly folded on the bed.

This was the very ritual dress her mother had talked so much about. Light blue, embroidered with gold, beads and pearls, a bodice with light, semi-transparent draped sleeves, a lace belt jingling with charms, a long silk skirt with slits and flounces, thin gold bracelets - three for each hand, a diadem sprinkled with precious stones, tail ornaments, long earrings, and a blue mesh veil. Raps suddenly thought that perhaps mama had worn this dress, but a decade had passed since then, it couldn’t have been preserved so well, and her measurements had been taken a few months ago... Lying next to the dress were a pair of ribbon scarves, whose color darkened from where they were supposed to be held, to their very edge, transitioning from light blue to a saturated dark blue, almost black. This dress must have cost a fortune. One of the elf girls tried to touch it but was promptly slapped on the hand by the elder one, who again silently indicated for Raps to get dressed.

The captive, holding Suiravka in her teeth, fortunately, still invisible, did not hesitate and, throwing off her white rags, began to try on the dress. The blue color would have suited her mother, but not Raps, with her bright orange, almost fiery eyes. But this didn’t concern her too much, as this dress would soon be stained with blood anyway. The elf girls helped her put on the jewelry, and when everything was ready, Raps finally unclenched her jaws and in the blink of an eye she hid the needle in her bosom, under her belt. One move - and she would have a dagger or short sword in her hand... Soon, very soon.

The maids, meanwhile, gave her another once-over, which slightly unnerved Raps, but they merely adjusted the folds and the jewelry, which softly jingled with movement. With an approving nod, the tall elf girl gestured with her hand to her companions, and they, surrounding the prisoner in her luxurious outfit, led her towards the central part of the palace.

On their way, two guards with feathers on their helmets joined their procession. Even in the palace, they carried their spears at the ready. Only moments remained. A little longer, and she would see this demi-god Vizier, gracious and omnipotent, who had imprisoned her people underground, forcing them to mine wealth for him. A little more patience. The music from afar was growing louder, and it emanated from behind large gold doors, no smaller than those at the palace entrance. They were heading straight towards them, these gigantic doors with bas-reliefs of flowers, animals, and humans in various domestic scenes, mostly feasting or dancing.

The guards halted, pulled on the massive rings, and the throne room opened up before Raps: white, with a high ceiling, many columns, and stained glass windows that reached the floor. Tables were laden with food and guests, but the center of the room was clear, revealing a small area where a mosaic depicted an inverted moon pierced by a sword - the Vizier’s crest. Close to the windows, a few rows of guards stood, but only a few of them were the Vizier’s guards - with feathers on their spears and helmets - most were in purple garments and looked like those Raps had deemed Shardinians in the palace square. Musicians with harps, lutes, and flutes, playing a cheerful melody, had taken a spot in one corner. Why were there so many guards here? This Commander from the capital... does he command so many people?

Raps’ heart felt ready to leap from her chest, beating faster and louder with every step. “Calm down, Raps, calm down,” - she wanted to grab the blade that provided her confidence and fearlessness, - “Just do what you’ve been preparing for, what you’ve been taught for so long, then fulfill the plan and save your people. You just need to get close to the Vizier, as close as possible, as close as possible...”

She had already spotted him, sitting on a platform at the farthest end of the room from the entrance. But the room was so vast that even running, it would take Raps about ten seconds to reach her target. The Vizier. The Great Vizier of Derinrond. Dressed in loose white clothes with gold patterns, a thick grey beard down to his chest, slightly overweight, somehow reminiscent of Kavir, not really old, rather close to elderly, with large brown eyes shadowed with black. Gold rings and beads braided into his beard gleamed, making it seem as if it were glowing. His head was adorned with a white turban, with blue beads and a bright red feather. He certainly gave the impression of a very rich and powerful man, but not a demigod. There was nothing to fear, Raps told herself.

To the left of the Vizier sat a man in simple, but polished to a shine, armor, with long black hair and a short goatee. The Commander? Why is he in armor even during the feast? Do all in the capital feast in battle attire? The two were discussing something among themselves as the elven girls led Rapsamash almost to the center of the hall. All the better, closer to the goal. But there were too many guards. Why was he in armor?

The captive carefully examined the room, counting the guards and trying to figure out escape routes. Spotting the girl in the dress, those sitting at the tables began to scrutinize and discuss her with keen attention. One of the servants, who were pouring wine for the guests, left the jug and hurriedly ran up to the Vizier. As soon as the latter finally noticed Rapsamash and the maids standing in the middle of the hall, the latter bowed low and hurriedly retreated back through the door, backing away and not breaking their bow. It was time. She was prepared for this. She bowed almost to the floor, making smooth gestures with her hands down and to the sides.

— Here she is, Sir Gedar! The catfolk girl I was telling you about. Noble blood, her mother was one of my concubines, the best, I must say, — the Vizier had a deep bass voice that filled almost all the space of the hall, — She fell ill, alas. But we’ve waited, her daughter is now a beautiful girl. Let’s see if she inherited her mother’s grace and elegance.

He signaled the musicians with his hand, and they began to play a tune familiar to Rapsamash, which her late dance teacher always hummed. It was time. She suddenly unfolded her scarves, playing in the movement like tongues of blue flame, and, smoothly spinning, began to perform the dance she had rehearsed hundreds of times.

— Look, Sir Gedar! May Zdragav take my head, but I’m ready to bet that there’s no dancer like her in the capital! — The Vizier watched Rapsamash’s every move with admiration, putting aside his cup of wine, —This is not just a dance, Sir, this is the ritual dance of their people, symbolizing the entry into adult life. It’s not for nothing that she was raised by her people for so many years, absorbing their traditions, she will be an excellent concubine for you! Look, look!

Rapsamash had about twenty steps to reach the Vizier’s table and pierce him with Suiravka. Movements honed to automatism, learned almost from early childhood, gave her confidence and courage. She was already there. A little more. Just a little more. She will return what they stole from them. She will return freedom to her people.

The scarves flowed in the air, causing admiration from everyone present. The sound of bracelets and necklaces merged with the music, putting the dancing girl into a trance. With each step, she plunged deeper into the dance, not taking her flaming gaze off her target. Fifteen. The melody will not even end, and he will be dead. Twelve.

— Fantastic! It’s just fantastic, Sir Gedar! I almost regret giving her to you!

— Great Pares-ur, in our agreement there was not one slave, but all slaves. ALL slaves, Great Pares-ur, — the sharp voice of the black-haired man in armor, whom the Vizier called Gedar, broke the rhythm of one of the musicians.

— But what are you doing, Sir, do not interfere the dance! This is a very important day for such a beautiful girl!

Rapsamash tossed her scarves up - they, like living things, rippled through the air before she gracefully and elegantly caught them, not letting them fall entirely on the mosaic floor. Ten.

— Great Pares-ur, I repeat again. I do not need one slave. I have come to take all the slaves. I need every single one, Pares-ur, — the black-haired man was clearly disgruntled and, unlike everyone present, he didn’t care at all about the dancing girl.

— Sir, please, don’t ruin this moment! You will upset the lady!

Rapsamash heard only the music and the beat of her own heart. A jump forward, two turns on the right foot. Seven. Step left, put right, bend smoothly. Six. A spin, hip movement. Five.

— Enough, Pares! Stop this tastelessness! — Gedar abruptly stood up and slammed his fist on the table.

In surprise, one of the guests shrieked, the musicians stopped playing. Rapsamash, having taken another half step by inertia, stopped, not understanding what was happening. Four steps, only four steps. With one jerk, she could have...

— Sir, how can you! We agreed with you, that I cannot give you all, but I will give the best! Look, she is one of them, I am parting with one of my most charming treasures, and you spoil...

— Pares, I’m tired of your persuasions. I came for everyone - I will take everyone. Such is the King’s will.

— But what about... Sir, what about the city?

— You are the Great Vizier, Pares-ur, First of his name, appointed by the King. Do you want to say that the King was mistaken in you, appointing you as Vizier?

— No, sir, but...

— I order you, Pares, to bring out all the slaves immediately, shackle them, and hand them over to me!

This Gedar, he orders the Vizier himself... Who is this Commander? Rapsamash was frantically thinking: he’s in armor, if he manages to comprehend what’s happening, it will be hard to deal with him. He’s definitely an experienced warrior.

The Vizier, however, is unarmed and unarmored. And this flat-faced sir interrupted such an important ceremony, he’s more important, his guards are more numerous here, they won’t understand what’s happening, he won’t give an order, if he dies first... Yes, he will die first. The Vizier, however, is lucky to squeeze out a few more seconds in this world. Now!

Rapsamash, with a shriek, lunged forward, sharply pulling out the needle from behind her belt, which almost instantly turned into a now visible dagger. Aiming for the open throat of the Commander, she jumped onto the table, ready to pierce him. But suddenly her body stopped moving. She couldn’t move, literally freezing with her mouth open and dagger raised, directed right at the spot unprotected by the Commander’s armor. She couldn’t even blink. The whole world seemed to freeze, plunging into complete silence for a moment after her piercing battle cry. The Vizier looked in horror at the motionless girl who had jumped onto the table, collapsing back into his soft seat. Gedar, it seemed, for the first time paid attention to Rapsamash, curiously examining the dagger that had almost reached his throat. The guard pulled out their weapons and stood at the ready, while the guests fell silent, some even began to sob quietly.

— Good job, Fridrod, as always, instant reaction, — the Commander turned somewhere to the side, nodding approvingly.

Raps barely noticed out of the corner of her eye that there was a man in long robes standing there, stretching his arms out in her direction.

— Now that, Pares, — Geddar continued, — is a more interesting spectacle. Tell me, did you want to kill me?

The vizier looked deeply shocked and utterly helpless.

— May Zdragav take my head, Sir Geddar, may I burn in the depths of the Breach if I tell a single lie, I have nothing to do with this! I meant no harm to you, Sir Commander!

— We’ll find out who will take your head, Pares. Fridrod!

— Yes, sir, — the man in long robes walked straight up to Rapsamash. She still couldn’t move, not a single hair of her fur had moved since she had leaped forward. “What’s going on? Why? Why can’t I move? Move, Raps, move! Kill him! If you don’t kill him, the plan is over, everything is over! Mama will die, Arti will die.. Move, Raps, MOVE!” But she couldn’t.

— Take a look at this interesting dagger this ragamuffin has. Does it remind you of anything?

— Are you suggesting, sir...

— Find out what she has and where she got it from, and what’s going on here.

— Yes, sir.

Fridrod put his hand on Rapsamash’s head. She felt as if she was being pierced by countless tiny needles, and she wanted to scream in pain.

— She’s resisting, sir.

— When has that ever stopped you, Fridrod?

— Yes sir, right away.

The needles drove into her with renewed force, everything inside seemed to burn. But she still couldn’t move.

— She wanted to kill not you, sir, but the Grand Vizier. That’s the plan. A catfolk rebellion is being prepared. No, not just catfolks, all the slaves in the city. They are waiting for a signal. After the death of the Vizier, the bell was supposed to ring — that’s the signal. They will go north, they will go down the streets.

How did he... How did he know?! Did he read what was in her head? Did he know everything about her?? No. No... No! Move! Move!!!

— Oh, Pares, Pares, Pares. You missed a slave uprising under your own long, worthless nose in your own city! Just think, a whole uprising! So, it turns out, the King was wrong about you.

Rapsamash didn’t understand what was happening, having absolutely no idea what to do and how to get out of this situation, which was getting worse every second.

— What... what does this mean, Gedar? In the name of all gods, what does all this mean?

— This means, Pares, that I will give your head to the one true God, not your imaginary worthless little gods.

With these words, Geddar drew his sword with a single movement and slit the Vizier’s throat. Blood gushed out in a stream, splashing the armor, the table, and the paralyzed girl who was panicking. The guests screamed in horror, someone rushed to the exit.

— Guard, calm them down and take them out. All to the barns. If they resist - hit. And as for you, — he leaned down and looked Rapsamash straight into her frozen eyes, — don’t you want to tell us where you got this dagger from? Fridrod!

— Yes, sir.

The man in the robe touched the girl again, and again myriad needles pierced her body.

— It’s... hard to describe, sir. There’s nothing about it in her memories...

— Let’s try another way, —he grabbed Raps by the chin, — Do you know what kind of weapon this is? Fridrod!

Another bout of pain.

— She doesn’t know anything about warfare at all, sir. She has only seen the weapons of the guards and broken armor that they found in the mine.

— So, in the mine. Did you utter the words? What were they?

Raps couldn’t even cry.

— She read the inscription on the armor, but the text seems to be erased from her memory, sir.

— Damn cautious Karit! What did you do with the dagger, what can it do?

She had only to pray.

— Her memories about this are empty, but I can assume that it can become invisible, sir. Otherwise, how could she have brought it here and kept it in the mines?

— Reasonable, Fridrod, reasonable, but it’s unlikely that this is all it can do, — Gedar released the girl, looked around the emptied hall, and bent over the corpse of the Vizier, — So we have a ragamuffin here who found a convenient magical trinket in the mine, and decided to use it to start a rebellion, not even suspecting what power she possesses, — The Commander looked at Rapsamash again, — In your hands is one of the keys to the God waiting at the threshold of our world, and all you did was start a rebellion. Not even that, you TRIED to start a rebellion. And you failed, giving the whole city to our power... Fridrod, how much time do we have?

— If you’re asking about cordoning off the city, sir, - about an hour. If about the spell - my strength will last another five minutes.

So there it is! This Fridrod is maintaining the spell, not letting her move. If she can somehow interrupt him... If only she had Granny Ittira’s powder... Or else...

— She needs to be alive, Fridrod. Sedate her, or charm her, or something. We now have a long wait until we can take the key from her. But we are lucky today, definitely lucky.

— As you say, sir. I just need a couple of minutes, — the man in the robe stepped aside and began to rummage noisily in some bag, clinking glass vials and flasks.

Rapsamash couldn’t move, but now she was almost sure that Suiravka could. If the blade defends itself, if it’s as powerful as they say... She just have to wait until the sorcerer comes closer again. There won’t be another chance. Even sorcerers die from a hole in the chest... If only this would work...

— The Preacher will be pleased, very pleased. We will conduct the ritual even better than planned, and then present him with the third key. We will take three more at the first opportunity. There remains one problematic... — Gedar walked over to the stained-glass window, looking from top to bottom at the palace gardens.

Fridrod finally headed back to the paralyzed girl. She saw him only out of the corner of her eye, gathering all her strength to give Suiravka a command. He mustn’t realize, he mustn’t dodge, she needs to wait until the last moment... The sorcerer raised his hands above her. Now!!

— A wonderful day today, Fridrod. Have you ever thought about having a whole city suddenly at your mercy, a whole city as a sacrifice? — The Commander turned around. And immediately grabbed his sword.

The sorcerer silently sank to the floor. Rapsamash, smeared with the blood of the Vizier and Fridrod, panting heavily and looking around with wide-open, tear-filled eyes, sharply rushed to the window furthest from the Commander, holding a curved bloody blade in her hands.

— Oh, Abyss... Stop! Guards!!

The girl ran and crashed into the stained-glass window, which shattered into many multicolored shards with a ringing sound. Some of them pierced her, but these shards were no more painful than the needles she had felt a few moments ago. A short fall down - and she was in one of the numerous green gardens. She needed to run. She needed to warn her people. She needed to save them!

Freedom began. Chaos began.

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