The Heavenly Lord’s Ambassador. A Kingdom Like No Other. Book 1. Андрей Кочетков

to him while he’s with the delegation?”

      “I pray to our Heavenly Deity that he will not leave a poor widow all alone,” Sevelia replied fiercely. Her eyes betrayed both hope and doubt.

      “Mother Virando, were you ever in the Great Expanse?” Fenia suddenly asked with what sounded like childish curiosity.

      “Me?” Sevelia said slowly. “No, I haven’t.” Her eyes were blank for an instant, and then it was as if a door shut behind them. “I wanted to go with him that last time, but Uni was still a baby…”

      “How exactly did Uni’s father die?” Sorgius asked. “I don’t think you ever told us about it.”

      “That’s enough, Sorgius,” Vordius growled quietly.

      “I was told that he went deep into the wasteland with a band of Sotrays – the ones who were on our side. But there were other Sotrays there, wild ones, and an arrow went astray. That’s what they told me. It was an accident. He went through the whole war with the Torgs without being wounded even once, and in the end a chance arrow took him! We do not understand the ways of the Heavenly Deity.” She sighed. “He was buried before sunrise, according to the custom of those parts, and only his things were returned to me. I’ll show you…”

      “Don’t bother, Emel Virando!” Vordius exclaimed in embarrassment. “Maybe next time!”

      “There’s just one small chest.”

      Moving stealthily like a cat, Fenia stood up from the table and put her arm around the older woman’s shoulders. Her voice soft and throaty, she said “Mother Virando, it’s already late, and I believe it’s time for all decent girls to go to bed!”

      “Yes, of course,” said Sevelia, shaking her head as if to clear it. “Forgive me, my dear, for getting lost in my memories. Come along and I’ll show you to your room.”

      As soon as the women were gone, Vordius sat down heavily in his chair and grabbed Sorgius’ arm so hard that the Vuravian almost choked on his favorite cherry beer.

      “Are you a complete idiot? Why were you bothering her like that?”

      “What are you talking about? I just wanted to learn more about the Great Expanse. She mentioned it first!”

      “Did she?” Vordius grimaced. “You were the one who brought up her dead husband. She loved him with her whole heart, can’t you see? There are times, Sorgius, when you ought to respect other people’s feelings!”

      “I know that!” Sorgius said, wiping the foam from his lips with a sleeve. “She’s a nice old lady, but I don’t think she cares much for me.”

      “Old lady?” Vordius spluttered. “She covers her head, but she isn’t bad looking. I bet she isn’t even fifty yet.”

      “You think?” the little Vuravian asked doubtfully. Wrinkling his prominent nose, he gave the matter some thought, quite possibly even performing some mathematical calculations. “No, she’s an old lady,” he issued his verdict. “But she’s nice.”

      Vordius shook his head and looked away.

      “I’m no expert, friend,” Sorgius went on. “But anyone who’s older than me…” and he took a sip from his wooden tankard.

      “Enough!” the guardsman exclaimed, slamming a fist on the table. “Let’s talk of our affairs.”

      “What is there to say?” Sorgius shrugged. “We have to go, and that’s going to be a problem for you, my big, dunderheaded friend.”

      “Why is that?” Vordius asked in a haughty voice. He poured himself more beer from a round jug decorated with images of the gods of the fields. “No matter how you consider it, my guards badge will help us.”

      “Not a bit of it! Who in the wasteland cares at all about our Emperor’s guards?”

      “Aha!” Vordius said, raising a finger aloft as he drained his tankard. “I see there is at least one thing you don’t know.”

      “For example?”

      “Guards officers get sent on regular inspections to all our far-flung garrisons. The idea is for them to get to know the locals. And, I suppose, so they wouldn’t sit around in the capital too much.”

      “Oh my!” the little Vuravian leaned back in his chair and raked his fingers across his chest. “Do you mean you can bribe someone to…”

      “I don’t need to bribe anyone! Do you think there’s a long line of people looking to get out of Enteveria so they can go sit in a circle on the ground with the unwashed nomads?”

      “There’s weed though…”

      Vordius snorted. “You know just as well as I do that you can easily buy it right here.”

      Sorgius grinned like a cat after a heavy meal. “Sure, because your officers bring it back with them. No one searches their things on the border.”

      Vordius shrugged and stuck a fork into a smoked sausage wrapped in bacon. “Here is how the thing works,” he mumbled as he chewed the meat. “I am an imperial military inspector, and you are my scribe.”

      “What?” Sorgius asked, eyes round.

      “Scribe!” Vordius repeated, this time after swallowing. “You’ll copy down any reports and check all their financial documents. It’s just a lot of boring, pointless work.”

      “Sounds like just the kind of work for an inspector!” Sorgius said, pointing at his empty tankard.

      “Not at all!” said the guardsman, shaking his head as he crossed his legs. Reaching out a long arm, he easily hoisted the jug and slowly poured its contents into his friend’s tankard. “I’ll be socializing with people. Wine, women, and the best, choicest weed for dramdalaki! And when I recover in the morning, you’ll write down everything I managed to commit to memory.”

      With these words, he dropped the empty jug under the table and set Sorgius’ tankard in front of him.

      The Vuravian looked down at the tankard and asked, “Did you perhaps forget something?”

      Vordius slapped his forehead. “Of course!” He speared the last sausage on the tray and held it to Sorgius’ mouth. “Enjoy!”

      The little Vuravian bit off a chunk of sausage the length of his middle finger. The white bacon resisted, like a length of white rope, preventing him from taking his prize.

      “Shadow take it!” he muttered, using his teeth to saw through the last strip of bacon. When he was done, he sat up and reached for his beer, but Vordius held onto the tankard tightly with a huge hand.

      “Hey!” his friend complained.

      “Look!” the guardsman tried to warn him, but it was too late. Appearing out of nowhere, Fenia slid into the chair next to Sorgius.

      “I’m not interrupting anything, am I?” she whispered. “Finish chewing before you answer,” she added.

      Mortified, Sorgius nodded and swallowed the sausage.

      “What are you doing here?” Vordius did his best to look offended while his eyes slid to the nightgown that the young woman expertly covered with a folded blanket.

      Fenia sighed. “I didn’t think I’d ever get rid of her! The old lady wanted to sit there and tell me stories all night!”

      “See!” Sorgius gloated. “The old lady…”

      “Shut your mouth!” Vordius waved him away. “And you, what do you want?” he turned to Fenia with a scowl.

      She pursed her lips and tilted her head to one side. “I just wanted to know what you’re talking about. We’re in the same boat, aren’t we? When do we leave?”

      Moaning softly, Vordius leaned back and closed his eyes.

      “Listen!” Sorgius