Dragon’s Empire – 3. Countess and Dragon. Natalie Yacobson
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on’s Empire – 3
Countess and Dragon
Natalie Yacobson
Translator Natalie Lilienthal
© Natalie Yacobson, 2021
© Natalie Lilienthal, translation, 2021
ISBN 978-5-0055-8641-4 (т. 3)
ISBN 978-5-0055-4050-8
Created with Ridero smart publishing system
Exposure
The countess was not too worried after the owner of the mysterious castle tactfully and kindly in the midst of the night pointed her a door. So it seemed to me when I looked into the castle’s window and saw her in a circle of fans. Elegant and beautiful, she flirted at once with everyone and did not even suspect that the Golden Shadow is watching her from the darkness of non-existence. And maybe she suspected. In any case, for one long moment her eyes rushed to the window. She did not see anything other than a snowfall behind the illuminated glass. Did she notice a golden, winged snake that had clung with all its slippery body to the stone wall?
The countess with a crash folded the fan and hit them on the knuckles of their fingers, so the skin turned red. She could not have to pinch herself to check if her sudden imagination was true. She miraculously managed to feel that there is a golden something firmly connected with the restless soul of her dark idol behind the window. If it were not for a noisy company, and not questions that flew on her from all sides, Francesca would undoubtedly rushed to the window to test their assumptions or again to let the spirit into the house. That is how she first called me – a light touch to the picture on canvas. Now she tried to establish a mental contact with me, but inexperienced in witchcraft, she did not know how to fasten the subtle binding threads of strangers.
«Did you cut yourself?» said excitedly someone from the guests, turning towards her.
Francesca really squeezed the fan too strong, the ostrich feathers were broken, and the revealed needles scratched her on the nameless finger. She did not even feel pain, but I breathe in air even at such a distance the aroma of her blood. So you inhale the smell of expensive wine before you enjoy a thin bouquet of taste. This feeling made me look again through the glass to determine whether it was on the finger of Francesca that amethyst ring, which Rothbert tried to intimidate me. It was not an amethyst. The most attractive magnet was in the fortress – the picture. I needed only this magnificent canvas, but since Francesca felt my presence this evening, I had to fly away.
The estate met me with the usual panorama of the majestic launch. The snow was spinning over the frontons, covered the balconies. Snow flakes melted, touching marble caryatid. The rooms of the palace, intense and cold, did not welcome the owner. Only in one fireplace in the ash, dry branches were preserved, as if someone recently was here. There was neither the time nor the desire to bypass with the ward all the premises from the attic to the basements to discover the tramp who could look for the shelter from the snowfall. Even if someone snuck through the window, it will soon be afraid of the arrival of legal owners and will run away.
Having visited the mill to the next morning, I even found there two shy peasants: a miller and his assistant, who swore, that they used to worked here and asked me as a new owner, allow them to take up former duties again. I decided to allow them to grind the grain of neighboring farmers, because it’s not to stand without a mill, but put forward one prerequisite. Having finished their day work, in the evening they should leave the mill to their home and not to return to the dawn itself. Of course, such a whim could seem strange, but such a contract guaranteed security to people. With the onset of darkness, my subjects could frighten them too much. Taking advantage of the fact that two men are in the evening alone on the lands of their sovereign the evil spirits could attack them, pushed, and pester until the unfortunate drown in the nearest mill pond.
The imperative tone, which was put forward by the condition, became a guarantee of its observance. I myself examined the mill. There was nothing unusual to the room, not a single hint that this place belongs to evil. Of course, two mercenaries could dissolve rumors about the oddities of their new owner, but I didn’t care. I wanted the mill to earn again to rotate the wheel of the wind in former times. Maybe then something unusual will happen here.
I secretly watched the Countess when she ordered to collect a road chest and prepare the carriage. It seemed to me that in the capital she would not only entail the desire to acquire new books, because she could send someone from servants. The first impression could not deceive me. Francesca was too nervous when she sat down in the carriage. The entire way Francesca could not calm down. I corrected the warm raincoat with a white fox. At the entrance to the lively wide road, she put on the face a dark half mask, as if she did not want that her friends could know her by chance met in the way.
On the streets of the capital I had to abide by the double caution and slide behind the crew as an invisible shadow. On too narrow stone streets, each passerby was well noticeable. Of course, the old king invited me to go to the palace at any suitable time, but after a frank conversation in a hunting house, I did not decrease to put a visit to him again.
The crew went along the stone bridge, drove on one of the main streets and stopped in front of the facade of a well-known home. It was there, on the second floor behind a draped window, I with Vincent recently played cards. Here I first felt the hand of the countess, touching the portrait.
Francesca slipped out of the crew. Francesca reached the door hammer, made in the form of an eagle head. The door almost immediately opened. On the threshold rose an servant.
«Conduct me to the baronet and prepare the card,» said Francesca with a clear pure voice. Under the lace, the veil descended from the half mask was impossible to consider even how her lips move, pronouncing words. The forehead, cheekbones and nose were completely closed, only her eyes sparkled from the slots. The servant objected.
«The one you are looking for, does not live here anymore. The house is recently sold.»
«Where can I find the former owner? Speak, do not be shy, I’m not an enemy.»
«Sorry, milady, but I don’t know anything.»
Francesca shuddered a little when the door slammed before her.
«Unpleasant, of course, my darling, but you are not the first who paid him forward,» shouted after Francesca, a man, who appeared for a long time under the windows of the same house. «It seems that our omniscient predictor is not going to return debts to anyone.»
Francesca did not even pay attention to the insolence, and the one, tapping some melody with his cane on the pavement, also continued to look at the unlit windows of the facade. The darkness over the streets thickened. The countess returned to the carriage and order to the coachman to go through hers favorite route, that is, to the bookshops. I followed her when she moved books in leather bindings behind glass shop windows and for a long time asked the seller. She was satisfied with books standing on the shelves. Then the old merchant with wrinkled hands and face, as if he remembered something, took a lantern and went in search in a storage room, returned and handed her the book in the dark as a fragment of the night, binding. The lady eagerly grabbed it, immediately paid, while not taking off the mask nor gloves.
Approaching the showcase, I could hear the fragments of the conversation.
«Go to the tavern» Crown and Eagle», he happens every evening there,» said the merchant, wiping about the apron, the hands smeared with glue and wax. The light of a single lamp laid in orange shine on a closely pressed bookshelves and a ladder, leaning towards the highest cabinet.
«Are you sure that he is not madman?» Francesca masked with an arrogant tone her interest.
«In the days of his youth, he was a robber in Roshen. I knew him well, milady and tried to return him on the right path. But the person who set foot on the vice path can return to honest life only by surviving a real chilling blood horror.»
«Briefly speaking! Do not say as the novelist! I only need facts,» Francesca demanded,