Chapter 12

The third day of the solar week. An infinitely long hymn, and even in the archaic Akkaean language, from the booming sounds of which the throat hurts ... Resan pronounced the final words of the hymn with such a sincere feeling that he himself was surprised - but he really wanted to finish it faster and run away to his room.

Alas, the dream of a large jug of cool water that could alleviate the suffering of a parched throat remained a dream. A jug was found in the room, but empty. Resan uttered in an undertone words that the offspring of a decent family was not supposed to know, and went to fetch water.

While still in the chambers of Tar Arimir, the young man saw from the window a piece of the courtyard of the eastern tower, and in it - a well. Servants crowded around the well, and their children played there, too small to help their parents, but big enough to disturb the rest of the adults. In the castle of Father Resan, the families of servants lived in separate buildings near the fortress wall, they did not dare to meddle in the main building without a serious need. It turned out not to be the case here.

The young man was about to leave the stairwell and into the outer space when he noticed the dark-haired half-elf, so unfortunately met in the castle. He strode swiftly across the stone-paved yard and looked unhappy. Resan wondered who the half-breed could be - he held himself with the usual imperiousness that comes only from a long habit of giving orders, and the stone in a single ring was worth more than the whole pile of jewels with which the noble Arimir, the current master of the young man, was hung.

Suddenly, several kids left the game and ran to the half-breed. The fastest was a little black-haired girl. A moment - and she already wrapped her arms around the half-elf's leg and, throwing her face back, began to babble something. To the great surprise of Resan, who immediately imagined his father's reaction to such behavior of the children of the servants, the half-breed did not get angry. On the contrary, he bent down and picked up the child in his arms; the gloomy face lit up with a smile, having lost its elven coldness, and became completely human.

The rest of the children did not behave as impudently as the girl, they did not stick to the half-elf, but gathered around and clamored like a flock of vociferous yellowflies. And he, it seemed, really did not mind talking with the little ones. Only a few minutes later, with apparent reluctance, the man lowered the black-haired baby to the ground, smoothed her pigtails, patted a couple more boys in the whirlwinds. The grimace of discontent on the half-breed's face no longer returned, now he looked calm and focused. A minute - and his tall figure disappeared from sight, hiding behind the corner ledge of the tower.

Resan looked after the half-elf for some time. He is rich, has the right to give orders, and at the same time allows the children of the servants to fawn over him ... Or here, at Tongil, even nobles behave incorrectly?

After waiting a little more to be sure, Resan went to the well. The water, as he imagined, was incredibly tasty. The stone vaults of the castle pressed down on Resan's shoulders, trying to bend him to the ground, and only now, being under a clear sky, the young man realized how hard it was to be inside. Go back to the cramped servants' quarters? No! Yes, and with the local servants it does not hurt to make an acquaintance.

Looking around, Resan took a fancy to the shady canopy at the opposite side of the castle, from where the whole courtyard was perfectly visible - in case the half-elf decides to return the same way - and perched on a log, someone carefully peeled off the bark. Not otherwise, in the evenings, gatherings were held in this corner.

It soon became boring, and the young man remembered the unfinished last amulet. Already the fifth in a row - but there is no superfluous protection, especially in the house of a warlock.

This time, the scythe was woven from six threads, red and gold in pairs - Resan asked for protection from the Sunny. The fingers moved skillfully, the lips moved habitually, conjuring a ray of light...

The young man was so deep in the process of work that he did not hear other people's steps. Only when someone blocked the light, shuddered, threw up his head - and breathed a sigh of relief. Curiously gleaming with brown eyes, the same black-haired little thing that the half-elf took in his arms was looking at him. Next to her, with an independent look, stood a blond-haired, strong man, who looked about twelve years old. He, it seems, was also interested, but male pride did not allow him to show it.

- What are you doing? - not even finished speaking, the girl was already reaching for the amulet. Resan hurriedly coiled the unbraided braid and hid it in the pocket of his camisole. Until the work is finished, other people's hands should not touch it, otherwise everything is in vain.

- Yes, so ... - the young man muttered, thinking that if the girl burst into tears now, then he would have to flee from some maid - an angry mother of a curious child. But the girl only pouted her lips in resentment and began to whimper and pull on Resan's sleeves.

- Well, show me! Do not be greedy! Brother, let him show!

The blond-haired man frowned angrily and looked from under his brows. Given the difference in age, his displeasure looked touching. Ryosan chuckled, but then a new idea came to him.

"Let's switch," he suggested cheerfully. - You will tell me something, and I will show my thing and maybe even give it as a gift.

“Come on,” the little one replied immediately. It seems that, together with the older silent brother, it was she who was in charge.

"Your brother's hair is an unusual color," Resan began from a distance.

"Yeah," the girl agreed happily. Kirumo is very handsome!

Unable to resist, the young man quickly glanced at the designated one - his cheeks turned slightly pink.

“Do you still have young men with this hair color living in your castle?” Resan continued.

- Yes! - the girl reported happily and began to list: - One sharp-eared, does not want to play with anyone or talk to anyone. Vredina!

“Elf,” the young man concluded. — What else?

“And the second one with normal ears,” the little girl pleased him. Good, but stupid.

- Why stupid? Resan was surprised.

- Afraid of everyone. The girl shrugged. “And Mister Tongil the mage, and even Mister Mithril. Doesn't understand anything at all. Mithril is the best! He brought me a doll from a big city, and sweets for everyone, and ...

“Where does he live, this second youth?” Resan interrupted the enumeration of blessings. - Which tower? In what quarters?

The girl opened her mouth and moved her lips soundlessly.

“I don’t know,” she said in surprise.

- I know. That was the first thing Kirumo said. “Give Seika that thing and I'll tell you.

The girl's eyes twinkled proudly.

Kirumo is not only very handsome, but also very smart! She informed the young man.

Resan sighed and pulled out a half-finished amulet from his pocket - let them!

Tenacious little hands immediately grabbed the trophy. The girl began to twirl her two-tone pigtail, looking at it and admiring it aloud. Kirumo nodded seriously like an adult.

“The one you're asking about lives on the third floor of the north tower. The boy held out his hand, pointing to the tallest of the four stone machines. - Fifth room on the left, if you go up the stairs leading from the stables. Now tell me - who are you and where did you come from?

The burly man looked intently, without a hint of a smile, and seemed much older than his age. Resan shuddered and mentally rolled a slap in the face - it was still not enough to be frightened of the children.

“I am Resan, personal reader of the noble tar Arimir,” the youth explained. — Arrived yesterday with a caravan.

The pause dragged on for a long time, Kirumo looked as if he was waiting for the continuation. Reflections of the sun shone in the boy's bright eyes... and Resan, with amazement and almost fear, caught himself thinking that he wanted to continue the story. He wants to tell this strange boy why he really came here, what business he has with the fair-haired young man. It seems that Resan was very mistaken in defining the burly man as a muscular addition to a talkative baby.

The young man hastily jumped to his feet.

“Run and play, but I have to go,” he declared with false cheerfulness and headed for the stairs. Being outdoors no longer seemed so tempting. He walked, and goosebumps ran unpleasantly down his back, as happens from a fixed, unfriendly look.

Having already stepped onto the first step, Resan, unable to stand it, turned around. Kirumo stood in the same position and still looked after him.

Only late in the evening, heading to the chambers of tar Arimir for evening readings, the young man realized what confused him in the boy: the color of the eyes, yellowish-amber, which rarely happens in people. And yet, the fiery reflections in Kirumo's pupils could not be the reflection of the sun, as Resan first thought; could not, because he stood with his back to the sun.

In the darkness of the cell, where the lack of windows obscured the alternation of day and night, the only thread of reality was the jailer who brought the food. And it was with her that the strangeness that appeared after Tongil's visit turned out to be connected: Vend was no longer fed the usual inedible brew intended for prisoners. Now the food came, if not from the master's table, then certainly from the table of the guards themselves. Either for some mysterious purposes, the warlock needed Vend exclusively fattened, or the guards misunderstood the magician's instructions.

At first, Wend even thought about giving up food, but common sense took the side of hunger, declaring that, physically weakened, he would not come close to the goal. Wend missed the main chance to destroy the enemy, but as long as he was alive, there was a hope to take the magician by surprise.

Hearing sharpened in confinement caught the echo of speech behind the massive door. Wend crept closer - it was not yet time for the usual arrival of a guard. Means...

The bright torch was blinding, and Wend closed his eyes against his will.

- Remember me? a vaguely familiar voice asked kindly. Not Tongil.

Wend, squinting heavily, opened his eyes. He shuddered - a friend of his youth grinned in his face, changed, but still unmistakably recognizable.

— Mel? he asked incredulously, but his memory had already helpfully slipped a rumor heard in the capital that a half-elf served the Dark Magician. Only they called him differently - Mithril.

Why are you here, Mel? Wend asked, not trying to hide the bitterness in his voice. The half-elf raised his eyebrows, his nomad mother's black eyes gleaming in derision.

“Mr. Tongil ordered to prepare for you, dear former friend, new chambers. I hope you enjoy it there.

— Mel! Why are you serving him?

The half-elf chuckled.

- Why not? - He turned to someone, abruptly ordered: - Take him away! And, passing the torch to one of the jailers, he went out.

An unfamiliar guard hastily unfastened the collar on Wenda, but left shackled bracelets on his hands, connected by a thick chain. Pushed to the door.

- Get moving!

One of the guards called the place where he was led "guest quarters", another with a grin specified that these chambers were intended for "the most dear guests." Wend was silent, not allowing himself to react to the words and mockery of his enemies. And he hid in the depths of his soul bewilderment why ordinary people agreed to serve such a monster as Tongil. Didn't they know what he was doing to get his current power? Or would you rather close your eyes and plug your ears?

The “chambers” turned out to be not at all what Vend expected - no gloomy halls with alchemical retorts filled with the blood of virgins and poisons. The walls of the room were covered with plates of mirrors, creating the illusion of endless, deep corridors, each subsequent one a reduced and darkened copy of the previous one. The mirrors were confusing, making it difficult to determine how great the peace was, to understand how the light got here.

None of the guards wanted to go inside. They simply pushed the prisoner in the back and slammed the door, leaving him to study the mirror decoration and himself in dozens of reflections.

When Vend turned around, there was no door behind him - just another wall-length mirror.

And Tongil was already here. A moment ago, the chambers seemed empty, and now - the magician is standing a few steps from the warrior. Wend did not catch the moment of the warlock's appearance. Probably one of the mirrors hid a secret door.

Tongil cocked his head to one side, peering at his former friend, and Vend tried to determine from what distance he had a chance to get the magician. Many sorcerers so enchanted their flesh that the weapon would slip off without causing harm, and could only cut clothing. But not only the blade kills. One movement of the hands is enough - and the backbone of the magician, like an ordinary person, will break. At least there is a chance...

"You can't get me," Tongil said softly, as if reading Wend's mind. “If you try, you will get hurt. Mages need to be killed properly, not randomly. But in order to save you from unnecessary temptations, keep in mind that we are separated not only by a distance of a couple of steps.

Looking warily at Tongil, the warrior tried to come closer, but at half a step he ran into a transparent wall. He raised his shackled hands, felt the invisible barrier and lowered them helplessly.

- Convinced? Tongil smiled wryly.

"What did you need me for?" “There was no need to ask. The warrior already knew that those who had tasted the "hospitality" of the warlock did not return back even in parts. They said everything worked out...

But Tongil said something quite different.

“Tomorrow I will take you out into the forest, and go to all four directions.

- What kindness! - burst out caustically. - What do you want in return? A blood oath?

- Nothing.

- I do not believe! - Unexpected mercy frightened more than torture. The dark magicians do not let their failed killers go, which means that somehow a living Vend will be more useful to a warlock than a dead one. "I won't serve you!"

Tongil shook his head.

I told you I don't need anything from you. Consider it a gift as a token... as a token of an old friendship.

- Friendship? - a new wave of hatred rose in my soul. “That friendship didn't stop you from killing everyone that was dear to me, but now you remember?

Pause. Then the answer:

- Better late than never.

“Damn you,” Vend whispered, feeling a lump rise in his throat. - Damn you!

***

— Aaron!

The warrior, standing on the landing between the flights of stairs, turned around.

Yes, Mel?

“This… person,” Mea-tael grimaced, as if he had bitten something bitter, “whom you decided to transfer to the “guest quarters”…

Aaron raised his eyebrows, waiting for the continuation.

- When you're done, give it to me.

- For fun? Got bored? Aaron asked, trying to hide behind a mockery how unpleasantly the words of the half-elf scratched him.

Mae-tael took a deep breath, trying to speak calmly, but anger flashed in his eyes.

You know very well why I'm asking. It killed my mother and sister. I want to kill him myself.

Aaron froze, hoping that the mask of polite indifference was tight and the half-elf would not notice his momentary shock.

- And if after the experiments there is nothing left of him?

Mel sighed in disappointment, but immediately added, struck by a new idea:

- Can we change? Give it to me now, and I'll get you any person in the empire for testing, anyone you name. Even the emperor himself.

Aaron shook his head slowly, searching for words that might convince and reassure the half-elf.

“Sorry, Mel, but no. It is ar-Sin that I need... If there is something to share, you will have it at your disposal. If not, then no.

And he slid up the steps, leaving Mea-tael alone. I climbed to the very top of the tower and stood there for several minutes, looking around, but in fact I saw almost nothing. The day was beautiful - cloudless, shining in the rays of a joyful sun, but it could just as well be a day of cloudy bad weather.

After all, Aron has already thought out the solution to the most pressing problem - what to do with Vend, who turned out to be a prisoner of his dungeons. But then the half-elf said one sentence, and the warrior felt the awareness of reality, the awareness of right and wrong, slip away like water through his fingers.

The Wend from his past hadn't killed women, ever. It was a vow he made many years ago to his goddess. The local Vend... What did Aaron really know about the man who looked at him as an enemy? How was his life? Whom did he serve?

For the first time, a thought crept in: was it not a mistake to give Wendu life and freedom? The thought seemed vile, and Aaron tried to suppress it, but then the voice of common sense joined in, prompting her not to rush. Of course, you shouldn't kill Wend yourself, much less let a vengeful half-elf do it. But isn't it worth waiting to find out more? Let two or three days pass, a week is better. And then...

Aaron shook his head, throwing off the delusion. Wend was his friend, Wend died because of him. And let everything be different now, and no one except him remembers what could have happened differently ... So be it, but Aron is in debt to Vend, and he will repay the debt. Let fate decide the future.

It was the second day in a new incarnation. Aaron finished reading the diary, but many things, especially those related to magic, remained a mystery.

Fire turned out to be the most obedient element. It was enough for Aaron to mentally wish that he would appear - light a candle or hang in the air like a bunch of flame. However, the latter was physically exhausting; after the first experiment, when the ball of fire just hovered in front of him for a couple of minutes, Aaron sweated as if he had run twenty miles in full gear.

The True Light, to his disappointment, could no longer be summoned. Other elements also did not please ...

The water didn't react at all.

An attempt to call the wind turned into light ripples that passed through the park pond.

The situation with the elements of the earth was not much different - the best result was a knee-high earthen geyser.

Aaron even wondered: did he not get from his predecessor instead of a full-fledged Gift only a small fragment? If so, then... Aaron couldn't tell if it made him happy or sad. On the one hand, achieving heights in the Dark Art was never listed among his life goals. On the other hand, if numerous enemies (that half of the empire would have danced for joy at his funeral, Aron had no doubt) find out that he has lost the Force, he will be instantly destroyed.

However, there was one branch of Art, given with unexpected ease - Reflections. All reflections of the true essence obeyed easily and willingly: reflections in mirrors and on the water surface, shadows and footprints. But it seemed so small compared to the things the former Tongil casually mentioned...

***

— Aaron, are you busy?

The magician looked up from his reading and closed the black, untitled book.

“Something urgent, Mel?”

Mae-tael shrugged.

“The hunters returned this morning not only with prey, but also with possible reinforcements. I forgot to report right away.

- What do you mean? Aaron frowned slightly.

“Remember, at the end of spring, on the eastern border, Gita’s servants began to play pranks?”

- So what?

- When we drove them away, they did not calm down, but went to Zareb, to the Freemen. Three clans were slaughtered there, two more were halved. Now some of the survivors have come here to ask for your hand.

“You should have told me about this right away. Aron stood up, and Mea-tael noted that the magician's movements were filled with predatory grace. This happened only in anticipation of an attack.

- Is there something wrong with them? the half-elf asked in bewilderment.

- Where were they placed? - the magician answered the question with a question.

- To the free barracks near the north tower. Mae-tael frowned as he watched his friend.

- Good. Aaron cast a quick glance at the sun, which had just descended from the noon point. - Check out the newbies.

Mae-tael tried to dissuade the magician from a senseless act, but he only twisted his lips in displeasure, and the half-elf shrugged his shoulders in surrender. If for some reason Aaron wanted to see the refugees in their worst condition, he could not be persuaded.

It was dark inside the barracks, although the sun was shining outside. It was gloomy and quiet - the Freemen were sleeping, some in human form on bunks, some, who remained gray and shaggy, side by side on the floor.

Aron let Mea-tael go ahead, and he himself stopped on the threshold, carefully examining the refugees. They really got tired on the road, since they allowed strangers to approach them.

The werewolves began to wake up. They got up, squinting at the light that still penetrated inside; one of the wolves gave a short growl of displeasure.

No, Mea-tael thought, the magician should not have wanted to meet the Freemen in the middle of the day. Should have come in the evening, after sunset, as expected. All the same, now there is no Pale Face in the sky, werewolves will not be able to take an oath of allegiance.

“Sir…” A tall man with gray strands in his blond hair bowed his head. The leader of those who came. By Volny standards, such a gesture amounted to a deep bow.

— How many are with you and from which clans? Aaron was in no hurry to go further under the roof.

“Six of the Trorr clan, fifteen of…” A furious roar drowned out the voice of the werewolf. Two shadows darted towards the magician. Soared into the air - and fell, howling with anger and pain. Aaron did not move, only watched the black haze entangle the animals. He raised his hand, and the third wolf, crouching towards him, squealed plaintively, rolled across the floor, trying to beat down the fire that had engulfed him. But the fire went out on its own, giving way to a black haze that embraced this beast as well.

Then the magician smiled, and this smile could have seemed sincere if his gray eyes had not remained cold as before.

“These stupid puppies will take away my boredom. - And he added, cutting off the leader who had begun to speak: - I will return by the light of the moon and take the oath. Rest further, warriors.

— Mel. The mage's gaze rested on the half-breed. “Call the guys from the Pack, let them take these to the dungeon.

The half-elf nodded silently. Another opportunity for him to make sure that Aaron always knew perfectly well what he was doing. If it is impossible to avoid meeting with the enemy, you should put him in the most unfavorable conditions. But how did the magician determine the presence of murderers among the Freemen?

Returning from the barracks, Mea-tael was still thinking about the last assassination attempt. Three werewolves have already been placed in cells and given enchanted collars, but Aron did not remain to look at this, having disappeared on his dark deeds.

The half-elf frowned. Resentment at the magician, who deprived him of the opportunity to get even with the blood enemy, still scratched his soul. Unfortunately, Aron did not understand Mea-tael's barbaric, in his opinion, ideas that one should take revenge personally. Vend will die anyway - isn't that enough? Death by a magical curse is certainly not bad either, although Aaron refused to elaborate on exactly how this curse would work, but it's still not the same. No, not that...

Mea-tael's gaze habitually slid across the familiar space of the courtyard and lingered on the new decoration on the carved pillar that supported the roof of the well. Someone very diligently, though not very gracefully, wound a two-tone aache-nouvé braid around him. Where could this thing come from here, two and a half thousand miles from the Great Steppe?

Calling the nearest maid and asking a question, Mea-tael received the heartfelt advice to talk to Kirumo or his talkative sister.

The desired young man was found in the stable. Kirumo saddled a wooden partition between the horses' stalls and was telling something in an undertone to Belyanka, his favorite. The mare listened attentively to the child and sometimes, as if really understanding and encouraging, shook her head, snorted and neighed softly, raising her upper lip.

The half-elf paused at the entrance, watching the little orphan pour out his soul. Mea-tael had a happy childhood, full of fun, games and laughter; he found it difficult to understand the withdrawn, sullen boy. Kirumo, already taciturn, after the death of his parents, finally hid in a shell, not letting anyone in, except for his sister.

The half-breed did not consider himself kind-hearted and sentimental, but the boy's father died saving Mea-tael. Of course, the warrior acted on the orders of Aaron, but...

“Kirumo,” Mae-tael called to the boy as he approached. He stopped at the stall, leaning against the wooden door. He stroked the mare's snow-white muzzle, habitually reaching for the treat that was missing today.

“Kirumo, do you know where the red and yellow pigtail on the well came from?”

- Seika tied, - the boy muttered, turning to him, but not getting off the perch.

- Where did she get it from? Mea-tael was surprised.

- The stranger brought it.

- What kind of stranger? When questioning, the half-elf spoke softly, knowing that if the boy found his questions rude or offensive, he would shut up and only glare from under his brows.

— Resan, Reader of Arimir. Kirumo tilted his head to the side and added, “I didn’t like him.

Why, Kirumo?

- He is somehow ... wrong. The boy wrinkled his nose, clearly not knowing how to explain it.

Did he need something?

- Yes. Kirumo nodded. “Asking about the fair-haired guys who live in the castle…”

The long summer evening had already turned into a real night when Mae-tael ended his conversation with Kirumo. The half-elf stepped out from under the awning and stopped, breathing in the freshness and sweetness of the northern night. Somewhere behind the fortress walls, centuries-old firs swayed their mighty crowns, smoke spread over the lakes, gray brothers drove prey.

The half-elf heard the echoes of the howling, and a tormenting temptation woke up in his soul to go outside the fortress gates and disappear, dissolve into the inky darkness of the forest. Glide invisibly along narrow paths, every moment be ready to repel an attack. Do not become prey, but drive the game yourself. To drink the hungry souls of the ancestors with sacrificial blood. And three days later, disheveled and dirty, return to the castle, smile in response to other people's questions and know: the same fire burns in his eyes as that of the warriors in the Pack ...

Mae-tael shook himself - not the time. Not the time at all, but maybe he will do so - later ...

In the meantime, he had to find the answer to the funny new puzzle called Resan and watch over the young blond hostage, who either wielded the Gift or not.