A little earlier...
After Saigo left the company of Her Reverence, he sat for a while longer with a book. He aimlessly ran his finger over the worn binding of an old folio — merely putting on the appearance of a respectable activity.
With his other hand, as if in passing, he scribbled a list of necessary work equipment on a scrap of parchment.
The matter of delivering the letter itself did not worry him overly much: his path conveniently passed by the designated spot where a regular lookout should be stationed.
And Saigo cherished a strong hope that the man hadn't been caught in the recent raid, or if he had — that a replacement had been hastily installed.
The chair sighed quietly as he stood up. A nod towards the silent Nuria — and he headed for the heavy oak door.
Near it, like three dark statues, Herman and the two other elders stood frozen at their posts. On their faces burned a cold fire — the very kind that ignites from the anticipation of an inevitable and severe thrashing by upset great lords.
Their gazes, full of quiet trepidation, followed Saigo all the way to the threshold. As he drew level with them, they bowed in respectful terror, a low bow almost courtly in its depth.
Saigo paused for a moment. He suspected, but didn't fully grasp the depth of their imagined guilt, and returned a ceremonial nod.
"Did you find everything you were looking for?" Herman's voice, his eyes still fixed on the floor, sounded muffled, and he leaned forward slightly, as if ready to catch every crumb of the coming answer.
Saigo merely shook his head slowly.
"No. But I believe I will have more than enough time. So I shall visit you again," he said, and took a step forward, cutting off the audience.
"We shall await you!" echoed after him almost in unison, but he did not look back.
...
The monotonous clatter of hooves on the cobblestone pavement lulled the mind. The journey from the library-archive to Katarina's estate took twenty minutes at most, but today it seemed endless.
The city bustle pressed the carriage in a tight ring: a motley crowd and endless carts and wagons — from huge, cumbersome loads drawn by six powerful oxen to gilded noble carriages no less splendid.
But even the latter, however, respectfully hurried to clear the way, spotting the imperial carriage and the standard that fluttered proudly on its roof, trembling in the wind with every bump beneath the wheels.
Saigo rode in silence, absorbed in himself. Nuria tried in vain to start a conversation — he quickly quashed her curiosity with just a glance, sharp and polished as a blade.
After which he retreated back into himself, into a tormenting self-analysis. "Was it worth it?"
Habitually sorting everything into shelves, he felt the taste of mild disappointment. Taking jobs bypassing the clan's bureaucratic machine was, while not a fatal offense — especially for him — still a violation.
Although this could still be explained by a desire to learn more about the unknown... But he had agreed too easily and set too lenient conditions.
A heavy, explosive sigh escaped his chest. No matter how hard he tried to focus, he was changing. He seemed to have changed only his location, but even the air here was different — thick, sticky, enveloping like molasses, clouding consciousness and reason.
"Well, maybe it doesn't affect me quite that much," he corrected himself, recalling old man Horn, who often said, 'an excuse is like a hole in the ass — everyone has one.'
From this self-digging, deep as the night sea, he was jolted by a painfully familiar voice that pierced through the roar of the crowd:
"Come on, buy! Mussels, crabs — fresh, and most importantly, tasty!"
Saigo started, as if from a push. Turning to the elf, he said curtly:
"Nuria, stop the carriage. I want to take a short walk."
The girl merely nodded silently. The carriage door swung open, and Saigo, throwing his cloak over his shoulders with a movement both quick and careful, fluttered out onto the cobblestones like a shadow slipped from its leash.
He paused at the very entrance to the southern side of the trading quarter — the very same one he had crept through not long ago, wrapped in freshly stolen rags. But nostalgia had nothing to do with it. The voice... he could not have imagined it.
"Come on, buy! Fresh herring, salted herring, smoked herring! Herring... I can't think of what else, but come on over, let's talk!"
And again, that voice, cutting through the crowd's rumble, so familiar... Saigo had already gauged the direction and took a step, but caught a movement from the corner of his eye.
A squad of guardsmen in gilded armor, dazzlingly bright in the sun, were dismounting, drawing maximum attention.
The entire street, young and old, froze, staring at them. "Not right, not at all right... I won't be able to do a thing with these posers."
"Nuria," he called the girl, not taking his eyes off the guardsmen. "Order them to stay at the edge of the quarter. I want to walk. And preferably without the whole district gossiping about me tomorrow."
She fussed, of course, but ultimately began shaking her head.
Hearing this, the boy narrowed his eyes almost imperceptibly. "Are they aware that I could tear their legs off if I deem such an act appropriate and necessary?"
"Without a shadow of a doubt, I believe you are capable of that," Nuria replied immediately. "But even so, they fear Katarina's wrath far more than your potential to leave them crippled."
"And rightly so," Saigo remarked, and a slight, barely perceptible smile flickered on the elf's lips.
"Alright, I think if I go with you, we might... let them go through the courtyards. No one will see them from the street."
"An option," flashed through his head like lightning. Saigo nodded, and Nuria bowed politely, exchanged a few quiet, rapid phrases with the squad leader — and immediately returned.
"We can move out."
As soon as they entered the Trading Quarter, it struck the senses with a riot of colors, a chaos of smells, and a cacophony of sounds.
Crowds of people swirled around the stalls; the cries of hawkers merged into a single, continuous roar. Fabrics, spices, weapons, books — here, it seemed, everything in the world was available.
Saigo walked, automatically glancing over the goods — in such places, one could occasionally find a true gem… but apparently, not this time.
"Sir, where are we…" Nuria began, but Saigo sharply raised his hand, demanding silence.
The voice was almost inaudible now, but it was no longer needed. Saigo saw his target with his own eyes — Linsi.
The merchant, enthusiastically discussing something with a shaggy old man right under a sign where two wooden crabs were locked in an eternal battle, their claws crossed.
Without wasting time, he approached the acquaintance with quick steps — if he could be called that at all.
The merchant did not evoke a surge of warm feelings in him, but neither was there outright hatred. Let's just say, in the complex map of his affections, Linsi occupied a neutral-stable position somewhere in the middle. That was enough.
The man, upon spotting a noble — and it was as clear to him as day, he was clearly accompanied by a servant girl, and an elf at that! — was about to launch into his standard inviting spiel, but Saigo stopped him with a gesture.
"I see things aren't so bad for you," he said, and slightly raised his hood, allowing Linsi to see his face.
"Saigo? Brother! I'm so glad to see you!" Linsi couldn't contain his emotions and rushed to embrace his savior, but he tactfully stepped back. The merchant froze, smiling sheepishly. "Ah, yes, what am I doing… Welcome to my shop! And here you are standing on the doorstep…" He flung open the door to a small building and gestured for them to enter.
Inside, it smelled of salt, the sea, and… yes, first and foremost, fish. The atmosphere was relatively decent: wooden carved counters, painted walls, high ceilings — Saigo had been in worse establishments. But Nuria wrinkled her nose slightly, and he understood her: "she's probably never gutted a fish in her life."
"If you want, you can wait outside," he offered.
The girl nodded in thanks, but refused to leave, only moving closer to the entrance, towards a stream of fresh air.
Saigo turned to Linsi. He was adjusting his wares: rows of silvery fish, sea and river, crabs, mussels, exotic water snakes, and — which Saigo hadn't expected to see here — a few magical fish, albeit of the simplest grade.
"Well, how do you like it?" Linsi asked with anticipation.
"Satisfactory," Saigo summarized dryly. "Tell me instead: how?"
"Oh! That's a good and quite simple question! After I was released, I rushed straight home. As expected, everything was sealed, and the guard told me all my goods were now the crown's property. I was left with nothing…" He raised a finger, " — and that meant I was free to expand in any direction!"
"Well, at least your body won't be expanding forward for a while," Saigo remarked with slight irony, looking at the merchant's now almost slim belly.
"Oh, that…" Linsi waved his hand, " — temporary difficulties! Or I'm not Linsi, head of the silver…" he faltered.
"Linsi, owner of the third shop in the fish row," Saigo corrected him.
"Exactly! Well, anyway, I had a few hiding spots, and the clothes I was wearing were worth something. In short, it was enough for this shop, with a little left over for drink."
"But why a fish shop?"
Linsi took a deep breath, inhaling the familiar aroma with pleasure.
"I love eating fish. And sea creatures. All of them: the ones with claws, the ones with fins, and the ones with legs…"
"So, you combine business with pleasure." — At this suggestion, Linsi nodded with a smile.
Saigo continued to press. Having an intermediary significantly simplified his life. Linsi was at least grateful to him, and at most — owed him his hide, which meant he wouldn't dare cause trouble.
The merchant noticeably perked up, switching to a lowered, conspiratorial whisper, glancing occasionally at the bored Nuria.
"Ready to help with any matter. Well… almost any…"
Linsi corrected himself and instinctively stepped back, bumping into a shelf of offal. Saigo, on the contrary, took a calm, almost weightless step forward, narrowing the space between them.
"I think we should discuss this in a less… observable place," Linsi suggested, swallowing.
Saigo nodded silently. They quickly withdrew to a back room, which Saigo unerringly identified to himself as the "gut room." The air here was thick, sweetish-cloying, and frankly stinking. Unfazed, Saigo continued, his voice even and quiet, but each word fell with the weight of a lead seal.
"Don't be so frightened." He took out a purse and jingled it demonstratively; the clatter of coins sounded particularly loud in this stinking solitude. "I need something delivered. And a message, too. You see, I'm currently somewhat restricted in my movements, and your help would make my job significantly easier."
Linsi nodded. He understood: this money was as dirty as the ground beneath his feet, but he couldn't refuse either. Thanks to this man, he was still darkening the sky with his existence. He would be grateful for such a gift for the rest of his life.
Seeing the resolve in his interlocutor's eyes, Saigo began to explain in more detail:
"About seven hundred paces from the Southern Wind trades, near the broken fountain, there will be a boy in a straw hat with a white feather. He'll be selling apples. Just give him this." He handed over a small, tightly rolled scroll. "Better yet, stick it in some box with fish. Just say: 'Deliver this to one of the elders,' and if he replies: 'The elder will receive what is due'... then your work is done. And yes," Saigo added, "you can keep three hundred coins for yourself."
Linsi, who had been noticeably animated until now, was simply overflowing with unbridled joy. The task seemed trivial to him.
Suddenly, a loud, irritated male voice, grating as glass, came from the main shop:
"Hey, you stinking offal seller! Where are you hiding? Get out here, we need to talk!"
The sound of a knocked-over jar followed.
"I'll tell you, you— Ow! You damn pointy-eared bitch!"
Saigo sighed reluctantly. Under Linsi's trembling, horror-filled gaze, he asked:
"Are you expecting guests today?" Linsi shook his head. Saigo understood everything without words, pulled his hood over himself, yanked a long, serrated knife — almost a cleaver — from the butcher's table, from which blood was dripping thickly, and silently proceeded into the main hall.