"Ruch, do you think one can see from here that my gun isn't loaded?" Blop asked excitedly.
Ruchi turned to his friend and looked at him with such a tired and irritated look that Blop immediately turned away and took a step toward the generator, in whose shade the heat was less intense. It was noon, and the moisture was rising from the lake, so much so that the fat man had wanted to throw off all his armor and clothes and just dive down the wall into the water, despite the possible court-martial.
"You know, if you keep standing against protocol, they're sure to notice you haven't loaded your gun," Ruchi replied and smiled, pleased with his joke.
Blop took a step to the edge and peered down at the verdant surface of the artificial lake.
"When do you think the reinforcement will end, Ruchi?" he asked, estimating how long it would take to swim to the stairs that led up to the generator.
"When you stop asking," the tall one muttered back.
"This headache makes it hard for me even to ask," mumbled the fat man.
Not knowing what to do with himself, he leaned against the wall of the generator, which hummed and vibrated, making his metal cuirass jingle like the bells on a leper's neck.
"Oh, brigantine!" Blop exclaimed, squinting his dark blue eyes, swollen with bruises from Zara's punches.
Indeed, the ship was descending toward the Central Prison, braking and speeding up the water with its engines, which made the platforms of the dock shake. It opened its solar sails as it descended, so it covered the ridiculous pose in which the giant mechanical robot was frozen as it plunged its arm into the prison building.
"I wonder who that is?" Blop said thoughtfully. "Maybe the Chief of Police?"
"No," said Ruchi, putting his hand to his eyes, "There are no identifying marks. So it could be anyone."
"I wish we could fly one of those, Ruchi, eh? That would be great!" the fat man rejoiced in his dreams.
"What would you do then? Fly it to market?" the tall guard smiled again at his joke. "Blop, your life is meaningless, what do you need a ship for? You'll wreck it on the very first day."
"Not true, not true, Ruchi. I'm going to keep it safe, and I'm not going to fly to the market. I'll... I'll only use it on holidays, on the most important dates. That's it," Blop said huffily, and leaned his chin on the muzzle of his gun.
Ruchi turned and kicked the gun so that the fat man almost lost his balance and fell off the wall.
"Why would you do that?" Blop whined. "It's not even loaded! Look!"
And he pulled the trigger. The gun went off with a clang, and the sound echoed through the well of the lake and into the surrounding houses, so much so that it seemed to attract everyone's attention. Several figures in Cult robes appeared from behind the brigantine, one of them holding a small spyglass to his eyes and looking in the direction of the guards. Blop all squirmed with his eyes bulged, shifting from foot to foot, making one incongruous movement after another with his hand, trying to explain what had happened to all the faces pointed in their direction. Ruchi stood with his face purple and slowly clenched his fists as if he were trying to squeeze the steam out of his ears from the boiling water that was walking around inside his body.
A few minutes later they were already standing in front of the Drill, who was studying through the spyglass the spotlights on the robot's head and its open bucket, as if in surprise, while the gray robes were collecting evidence and taking an inventory of the damage. The Chief of the Cult's Special Assignments Department turned as if only noticing the guards being delivered, folded the tube in one motion, like a magician's, which immediately disappeared from his hands, and, with a smile on his thin lips, he spoke:
"Well, perfect, perfect, I couldn't have wished for two more brave young men."
Blop even straightened at these words, jingling his gun belt against his cuirass, and nearly opened his mouth to say something, as Sept threw up his finger:
"Ah, ah, ah, I'm the only one talking now."
He stepped closer and looked into Ruchi's eyes, who was staring unblinking in front of him, and then into Blop's blue circles and laughed.
"No, really. You might as well be in a museum," laughed the cleric, and even clapped his hands a few times. They contained a pendant with a small heart shard and a bullet sticking out of it. Sept, smiling, looked now at the pendant, now at the guards.
"Of course, I could execute you right here or, for example, tomorrow in the square for the attempted murder of the cleric... But I have a more interesting fate for you."
Ruchi swallowed, and Blop breathed a sigh of relief and smiled.
"I've been getting reports of strange activity in the Mist Quarter. In the Town Hall area in particular," Sept began thoughtfully, pacing around the guards. "One day, flares, the next day, blare of engines. I can't send my own men there, but I think you, brave guards, are the right sort of men for the job."
Sept stopped in front of them and continued:
"Either you find out what's going on there and come back to me, or you don't come back at all. Both are fine with me," he concluded, "Do I make myself clear?"
"Sir, yes sir!" Ruchi boomed, and Blop muttered something to himself in tune with his exclamation.
"Good for you," Sept smiled and clicked on the fat man's badge stamped on his armor. "I have your numbers memorized. And believe me, I have an excellent memory. You don't have to report to your superiors. If you come back, you'll get official papers from me. Now, be gone."
Ruchi saluted, grabbed Blop under the arm, and dragged him toward the police boat. After pushing his companion into it, he sat at the wheel and engaged the mechanism that pulled the chain, which, in turn, pulled the boat toward a wide ladder that ascended the wall.
"Ruchi! Oh, my dear moons! Ruchi," Blop grunted merrily. "What luck, my friend! We've been given a real mission! We came in handy!"
Ruchi looked at him with that very look of contempt and a drop of sympathy that the tall guard did so masterfully that he should have been performing in the colosseum:
"You're an idiot, Blop. Truly an idiot."
"But why, Ruchi, why? We could not wish it better. We get out of this heat, we don't get executed, some big shot gives us an errand – it's so great, buddy!"
"Some?" Ruchi seemed surprised. "Do you even know who it was?"
"Um. No," Blop hummed.
"Ha. Well, as I said, an idiot. It's the Drill!" the tall guard rolled his eyes as he nodded his head toward the pier.
"The Drill?" Blop asked.
"Cleric the Drill Sept, the head of, I guess, the security police or secret or some special department of the Cult."
"Now, Ruchi, what difference does it make, you don't even know for sure," laughed Blop.
"Such a difference that he'd better execute us, you fool," said Ruchi angrily, and, breathing heavily, banged his rifle butt on the bottom of the boat. Blop tilted his head at Ruchi's feet in surprise:
"Oh, look, we've got a crack."
The tall guard pushed the fat man aside quickly and saw that the boat was indeed leaking. He looked back toward the wall; it was still a decent distance from the shore. The boat was filling up fast and soon began to sag on the chain.
"What are we going to do, Ruch?" Blop asked anxiously. Ruchi fluttered back and forth.
"I guess it's the old planks, buddy," the fat man pouted sadly, and began to take off his cuirass, helmet, and kneepads.
"What are you doing?" the tall one roared.
"I'm going for a swim. See, that's great, I was just dreaming of taking a dip," Blop smiled guiltily, shrugged, and went on uncovering himself.
Ruchi growled something, then stomped his foot, which only made the leak worse, and then began to undress as well.
"We can take the stuff in the boat and dry it ashore, if you don't break through..." Blop began, staying in just his underwear. But Ruchi pounded on the bottom of the boat so hard that the plank fell off, and the boat began to sink rapidly. The tall guard had only had time to remove his last kneepad before they were left on the surface of the water, and the mechanism dragged only the protruding bow of the boat to shore. Both of them were in the water, and their armor and weapons disappeared into the darkness.
"Don't say a word," Ruchi gritted his teeth and swam toward the shore.
But the fat man didn't even think about it; the back of his head got scorched, and he took a dip with pleasure. When Blop finally made it to the pier and, breathing heavily, collapsed on the hot concrete slab, glistening with heart dust particles, Ruchi was already sitting with his arms locked around his legs, watching the drops fall to the heated surface, leaving dark blots. Under the pressure of both luminaries, they slowly but inexorably evaporated and disappeared. Then the fat man raised his head and looked at the pier, where the sounds of scraping echoed through the well of the artificial lake. Sept's figure was nowhere to be seen.
"Phew," the fat man snorted and smiled, "It's been a long time since I swam like that! I didn't think I'd make it. Are you all right, Ruсh?"
He turned his head toward his partner, but he was still sitting motionless, looking like a statue.
"My moons. Here we go again. Look, the sun is shining, owlies are singing, the lunar day is almost over..."
Ruchi couldn't stand it any longer:
"You're a moron, an absolute moron Blop. Your parents probably named you so at birth, our son will be a dumbass, so let's call him Blop, so it fits better! Oh yes, how did I forget, also a very good combination: Blop the clot or Blop the dope. Blop the stupid cyclop."
Blop turned away and squeezed his eyes shut with his fingers in his ears.
"I heard you have two or three rhymes," he said, shaking his head.
Ruchi cursed for a while longer, but then fell silent, and the fat man got up and started to shake water out of his ears.
"The sun is shining, stupid Blop, but not for you and me," the tall one said sadly.
"Why is that?" the fat man wondered, already standing on one leg and tilting his head and tapping himself on the skull.
"What do you know about the Mist Quarter?" Ruchi asked as he stood up and started shaking water out of his ears, too.
"It's misty," Blop said with a sniff.
"That's right," chuckled the tall one. "But what kind of mist, do you know?"
"I've heard something about the restricted area, but I've never really gone into details," Blop shrugged and stretched.
"How did you get into the guards in the first place?" Ruchi raised his eyes to the sky. "All right, look. Years ago, there was some big factory or research center, built by a big shot of mystics. They charged the water there with strong emotions to create an alternative energy source. The goal was all right, smelled like a lot of money and position, but the execution was lame."
Blop stared intently at his partner, who raised his head and scratched a wart on his cheek.
"As they say on the streets, they took people, tied them up, and performed a kind of ritual that literally sucked the strongest emotions out of the person. At that moment, the person was held over a cauldron, from which steam rose. In the next room, they somehow turned this steam back into water and poured it into barrels. Well, who would have thought, the unfortunate people felt mostly fear, despair, and hatred for their tormentors, and nothing good came of it."
He ran his tongue across his lips and continued:
"And either the water itself was charged or it was sabotage, but, anyway, the factory exploded, so much so that the water rained down on the whole quarter that surrounded it. And ever since then... Ever since, there's been an impenetrable mist in the streets of the quarter, day and night. It's as if the sun doesn't look in there, obscured by the high-rises of the neighboring quarters."
He licked his lips again, coughed, and spoke:
"Now, Blop the clot. Whoever falls into this mist loses his mind. Each in a different way, some turn into a degenerated beast, some into a quiet maniac, some disappear, and some become soulless, like the animated things, and just wander the streets."
Blop sat there with his mouth open and scratching the back of his head. Satisfied with the effect, Ruchi pulled his face toward him and spoke:
"That's why the quarter is cordoned off and the tunnels to it are boarded up. And that's why the Drill won't send his men there. They're not coming back anyway. And that's why he sent us. To punish us for that stupid unloaded gun you almost killed him with, my fella Blop."
With these words, the tall one stood up, spat lavishly on the hot concrete, and headed up the stairs, which were dotted with water stains. Blop remained in the horrifying images Ruchi had created for some time, but then he rose, looked at the waves rolling up the stairs, and hurried after his partner.
"It must be the new fashion in the City to walk down the street in your underpants," the Grand Master Perleglose Trocchia grinned mockingly, looking out the window at the ridiculous couple heading toward the barracks along the Alley of the Puppets, handing out slaps to the line of wooden toys and servants who lined up with the few masters who were hastily patching all the animated things – from messengers to technical employees. Mostly it was the household staff, the cleaners, the valets, the porters, all those invisible fellows who are only noticed when they are broken. And they broke often now, so the two half-naked travelers had trouble getting through the crowd, and the taller one scolded and slapped the little creatures mercilessly until he ran into a huge cabinet with stone hands, apparently engaged in some sort of lifting work, and then he backed away guiltily, raising his hands up and hurrying to get away.
The Grand Master snorted in a feminine way and finally turned away from the window on the second floor, where there was a small café known only to the locals, and proceeded to his humble meal.
"So," he said and fluttered his eyelashes, looking directly at the man in the Cult robe across from him, "So, Al. Can I call you Al?"
The interlocutor nodded and began to rub his black goatee.
"You have been recommended to me as a very sensible young man. So I expect you to follow my instructions exactly from now on. And I wouldn't want you to be amateurish," he concluded, tapping a fork on a small plate covered with red aspin root jam. And then he continued, "I, for my part, will provide you with everything you need. Access to the reconstruction area, all the paperwork, the secret service passwords that will allow you to be at the construction site unhindered."
He drew a cross in the leftover jam, making an unpleasant scratching sound that made his interlocutor cringe.
"And, of course, a decent compensation," Perleglose smiled, wrote the amount with his fork over the cross, and turned his plate toward Al. The latter stared at it for a moment, then raised his eyebrows and said:
"Okay. I agree. But you should know that I am doing all this for the sake of the Heart."
"Of course. So am I," Trocchia nodded, waving his hand.
Al stood up, nodded, and said:
"Send a messenger to the old address when everything is ready."
"I assumed as much," the Grand Master nodded in reply, shrugging his shoulders coyly, "But please, it must remain a secret," he stressed, raising his eyebrows and staring directly at his interlocutor.
Trocchia stood up and, holding his beard, offered his hand to Al for a kiss. The young man twitched the corner of his mouth in surprise, shook his hand firmly, and left. The Grand Master feigned a slight indignation at his interlocutor's manners, but immediately sank back and relaxed, alone in the small ivy-covered room that climbed in through cracks in the walls, as if trying to pull the stone apart and tear at the interior of the house. Perleglose finished his meal, put on his top hat, straightened his beard, and went out.
At the same moment the funny little dolls, looking like grasshoppers in tails, came in and cleared the table, changing the tablecloth and cutlery. And the taller doll brought and replaced the picture on the wall with a rather vulgar still life with a picture of a black circle with a suspicious eye in the middle.