Alexey Pehov - Shadow Prowler

“There you are,” the old man harrumphed. “Come with me, I have a couple of questions for you.”

Good old Gozmo still hadn’t emerged from under the bar, and I became even more convinced that he was long gone and his tracks were already cold. Artsivus left the inn in the care of two archmagicians and walked out. I followed.

Outside it was dreadfully dark. No one had bothered to light the street lamps, and not a single window was lit up. But somehow I was certain that no one was sleeping on the Street of the Sleepy Dog. Deaf trolls couldn’t have fallen asleep with all the noise that had been coming from the inn for the last half hour. People would be talking about it right across the Port City tomorrow. And what wild stories they would tell! Especially the ones who claimed to have been at the scene and observed it all with their own eyes.

“Shall I get into the carriage?” I asked, just to be sure.

“You can run alongside if you like.” Artsivus harrumphed and groaned as he climbed up onto the step. Two coachmen supported the archmagician and helped him climb inside. I couldn’t withstand the magician’s gaze, and started looking out of the window, since it wasn’t boarded up this time.

“I’m cold,” the magician muttered, picking up the woolen blanket lying beside him.

I personally didn’t feel at all cold; it was a warm summer night.

“All right, tell me everything.”

“What is there to tell?” I was about to ask, but I changed my mind. A dead goblin could have guessed what he wanted to know from me.

“Allow me to assist you,” the old man sneered. “Let’s start with how you discovered who had the Horse and how the demon, who you said had disappeared for all eternity, happened to reappear in Avendoom.”

I heaved a sigh, gathered my strength, and started telling my story. The truth and nothing but the truth. Artsivus had already heard the first part of my story, so I simply made a few corrections, adding in the conversations with the demons. After that I had to tell him about the Forbidden Territory, but I claimed that it would take too long to tell him everything, and limited myself to saying that I went there, got the papers, and came back. I left all the details for the next time, hoping that it would never come.

The spiteful magician simply cleared his throat and assured me that the king was not as kind as he was, and I would have to tell him absolutely everything. I heaved another sigh to let him know that when the king required it, I would do as he wished.

As I understood it, the carriage was simply driving us aimlessly through the city. The coachmen had been ordered to drive us around Avendoom until Artsivus had said everything he wanted to say and satisfied his curiosity. By my calculation, we had already been riding about for an hour, and the damned old man still wouldn’t calm down and leave poor, tired Harold in peace. From the demon the conversation moved on to the Horse, from the Horse to the Master, from the Master to Hrad Spein, from there back to the Horse again… It just went on forever! But eventually the archmagician got fed up, too, or he simply got too cold and wanted to hurry to get back to his warm fireplace, but in any case the questions finally dried up.

“All right, thief,” the old man said, and looked out of the window. “It will be morning soon. I should have been asleep long ago, not riding round the city like this. I’ll drop you off-”

“Where, Your Magicship?” I interrupted.

“At the king’s palace, naturally! You need to be watched very carefully. Or you’ll create the kind of mess that not even the Beaver Caps can get you out of.”

“But the week I was given isn’t over yet,” I protested.

“I know,” Artsivus snapped. “But we don’t have that week anymore. You have to start out. Immediately. Soon we shall no longer be in control of events. So to wait until the end of the week would be suicide.”

“All right, but in any case I need to collect the papers I got from the Forbidden Territory. I’ll come to the palace tomorrow, or rather, this morning.”

“What, don’t you have the maps with you?” Artsivus asked in surprise.

“No, I’m not so stupid as to carry them about with me everywhere I go,” I lied, feeling the documents burning me through the side of my bag.

“And where did you hide them?” Artsivus harrumphed, making it clear that he didn’t regard the intellectual capacity of the man sitting opposite him too highly.

“In a safe place,” I replied evasively.

“In a safe place,” the archmagician muttered discontentedly. “In our times there are almost no safe places left, Harold. And I’m a little surprised that you, of all people, don’t seem to know that. Hmm, hmm… All right, have it your own way. But remember that if you don’t turn up at the palace in the morning, I shall deal with you in person.”

“Please have no doubt, Your Magicship, I’ll be there,” I hastily assured Artsivus with an air of crystal-clear honesty.

I don’t think that the old magician believed me at all, but nonetheless he shouted for the carriage to stop. So now I would have to walk to For’s place.

“All the best, Harold,” said Artsivus, letting me know that I was free to go.

“Goodnight, Your Magicship,” I said, maintaining the high tone of the conversation. When I have to, I can be extremely polite. I got out of the carriage and closed the door behind me.

So, it looked like I was on the boundary of the Inner and Outer Cities, no more than one block away from Cathedral Square. I could manage that all right.

The coachmen whooped at the horses, and they set off at a brisk trot. But the carriage only went a few yards before it stopped again.

“Hey, you!” one of the servants called to me.

What kind of people were they? No manners, no kindness for an unfortunate man out walking in the night!

“Come here.”

I had to trudge all the way back and open the door for another look at the archmagician swaddled in his blanket.

“Harold, I completely forgot.” Artsivus coughed. “Thank you for your help. The Order will not forget this.”

Long after the carriage had dived into darkness and been swallowed up by it, I was still standing there in the middle of the street with my mouth hanging open. I couldn’t remember anything like it ever happening before. The Order had acknowledged someone’s help and even said thank you. Now I was absolutely certain that the world was poised on the edge of a precipice and at any moment the sky would come tumbling down.

Do you struggle with the Darkness within you?”

I gave a sigh of relief.

So, after all, there were some things in our sinful and long-suffering world that remained unchanged. The old fogey, so advanced in age that all the stuffing had spilled out of him ages ago, was still at his post in front of the gates of the cathedral. His partner was at the other side of the entrance, dozing on his feet and in danger of keeling over and collapsing on the ground at any moment.

“I annihilate the Darkness,” I replied.

“Then enter and address Them,” said the dozy old man, suddenly coming to life.

It’s amazing what the force of habit can do!

“I think I’ll probably do that in the morning. Why bother the gods with pretty trifles?” I said with a chuckle.

“Quite right,” the first priest responded. “The gods get tired of our stupid requests and prayers.”

“Well, be seeing you.” I waved to the old-timers and went on my way.

“Are you a worshiper of Sagot, too?” the first old man called to me.

“Yes,” I shouted without looking back, but then I suddenly froze and swung round sharply to face him. “What do you mean by ‘too’?”