Sergey Shcheglov - Castle: Part 2

SERGEY SHCHEGLOV
                        Z A M O K
                      Fantastic story

                             Part 2.

   Along the way, it turned out that Gert holds the position of guard
faith (inquisitor? executioner? sheriff? there are no analogies in earthly history
was) that he was recently in this position, because previously he
The lord was a simple duke and could not afford to support
a detachment of guardians of the faith, which I had long dreamed of, for it was one
from local church tax collection forms; but then the bishop died,
the successor was not prepared, the kantum gathered to choose a new one,
There were debates for three months, heresies multiplied, the church tax was not
was going on, and the monseigneur - then still a duke - took advantage of the opportunity
tea, ordered himself to be elected bishop, “in order to save the country from
death", two-thirds of the delegates under the crossbows of his hired
nicks voted “yes”, a third cursed the monseigneur. They were abandoned
to an underground prison, after which they sent a messenger to Narwuf, to the Messiah
Ru, so that he confirms whether the choice has the power of God; but here
Monseigneur declared war on the neighboring duke, Giron ort Aysar, but
Before the battle began, the Mighty Forest caught fire, and the castle of Ai-
sar burned down along with all the inhabitants, and the ashes cut off
Treat from the rest of the world. So now no one bothers Msgr.
nieru fight for the purity of faith in a country plunged intorevelry
robbery and arson, Gert concluded his long story.
   After which he gave the command to stop for the night.
   He never became hoarse, which Oleg secretly began to wish for. Normal
troubled times, he thought, it’s not clear where such a re-
ligious arbitrariness.
   “By the way,” Gert spoke again when his people spread out
tents, spread the blankets, and you could sit down. - I forgot to say-
Please note that I am the commander of the Detachment of Guardians of the Faith, and the arbiter of
our father Turing, you'll meet again, here's what he tells you about heretics
will tell you!  A difficult man, recently from Narwuf, with the very
Messire was an adviser, but now in disgrace, he mentioned that
they talk, at the wrong time, about miracles just around the corner. Monseigneur believes him
like yourself.
   - What kind of person is Monseigneur? - Oleg asked, yawning. - Great
is it a castle?
   Gert talked for a long time, until Oleg’s eyes began to stick together -
Xia.  Monseigneur turned out to be the Duke of the main province of Trita - Ort
Trit, the castle, large and very recently built, did not seem
Hertha was the pinnacle of builder skill, and stood next to the city,
small and dirty even by local standards, where non-
how many thousands of families of artisans and traders.
   It remains to add that everything was formerly a kingdom, and now an episcopacy.
the Trit kopfia was the size of Denmark, but Oleg saw this even with the or-
bits.
   We spent the night in the ash steppe. Oleg slept badly, as always
in a new place, andwoke up before everyone else. It was morning - now
swarm, deserted.  Everything in his light seemed meaningless, died-
shim.
   All that day Gert talked about heretics; way from this
didn't become any more fun. Oleg looked at the “keepers of the faith” - today -
nya, they seemed like regular medieval guys returning-
leaving the field; with rings on their necks and scars on their faces, they walked from
rarely quarreling, satisfied with the successful campaign and approaching
taverns of Ort-Trita.
   After noon the ashes ended.  The fire stopped pouring
a meadow overgrown with pale and pathetic grass. Reached for him
the usual Tritian landscape is dull, flat as a table, fields,
fields, fields with rare islands of trees.  The fire seemed
destroyed the only large forest.
   - Then - this was the day before yesterday, they were just about to gather for an ambush - everyone
Gert said when it was already getting dark, they took another one; in
city. Asked for directions to Splintered Dart and did not answer
holy greeting from the guardians of the faith. I usually pray to him,
they say - but he refused. All the same, he says, I can’t leave you.
From the noble ones, apparently; Well, he didn’t leave.
   - Did they interrogate him? - Oleg asked stupidly.
   - We didn’t have time - we went to Drot that same day. So it seems
that’s it,” Gert scratched his back, “then you were with Bagen.” About him
I can also tell you, the bird is famous. But you came together, and
He's not the right person to be with yoube. Fanatic!
   - So that's it? - Oleg asked with relief. Intuition is supported
indicated that the messenger was not among the listed heretics; isn't it
that the last one who was captured in the city...
   - How to eat everything!
   - How long have you been serving the monsignor?
   - The second year - from the very elevation to the rank.
   - And before that?
   “I lived like everyone else,” Gert said and turned away. Apparently he doesn't want to
I wanted to remember those years.
   They were silent until the very gates of the castle.
   From the hill where the castle stood, Oleg glanced at the city. All
just as Gert described. Dirt, overcrowding; pathetic, sometimes de-
rhubarb, perimeter wall.
   They arrived at the castle just in time. Before Gert had time to introduce himself,
to see Oleg, "the famous chemist and divinator, lord of Fire
Olga dir Drota", as it turned out that the monsignor was feasting in a large
hall together with the head of the Detachment of Guardians of the Faith and commands
the newly arrived chemist to appear in order to get acquainted and at the same time
undergo a purification ceremony.
   “That’s excellent,” Gert was delighted when he heard all this from
manager - go, cleanse yourself, get settled. I'll tell you if
I need it, I'll find it.
   And he disappeared through the wide open secret door.
   Oleg, holding a backpack in his hands and coming up with a picture as he goes
wearing a suit befitting Olga Dir Drot, trudged into the hall.  Mon-
The lord turned out to be a tall, gloomy and indifferent knight
with belly;  Next to him sat the leader of the Detachment, Father Turing,a handsome young clergyman with a pale, reclusive face
ka.
   He had a long and intelligent conversation with Oleg, slowly sharpening his
questions; Oleg answered simply and dogmatically, gradually more and more
toupee;  Monseigneur drank wine and listened to their conversation with the pony
with a wistful look. About two hours later, Turing reached the top of the theological
technical constructions of the official religion - the dogma of lasting time
me - Oleg began to expound it, and then the monsignor clapped his hand -
shi.
   A man-at-arms appeared; black, with closed visor.
   Turing bowed his head.
   Oleg didn’t understand anything, but it only made him angry - it seems
everything was going fine, why is there a warrior in armor?!
   The man-at-arms gently pushed him in the back, Oleg stood up and carried
how many steps, finding yourself in front of the Touring, which blessed
waved him with a gesture similar to the sign of Zorro.
   Oleg bowed down according to etiquette, catching his breath. Then he returned to
place.
   Gert was waiting for him there.
   “Quickly,” he said. - You are recognized. Now you will live in
singing... if you don't forget your promise.
   - A?  - asked Oleg. He still could not return to earth from
theological turbidity of lasting time.
   “One ingot, as we agreed, go ahead,” insinuatingly
Gert said.  - Finding your accomplice will require significant
expenses!
   - Ah... As soon as I get to the laboratory... - muttered
Oleg.  He finally realized what was wrong with him: he desperately wantedsleep.
   “Then let’s go,” Gert stood up, asking permission to go out.
to which the monsignor waved his hand impatiently. - You are right there
will settle. This is how we do it.
   They went out into a side passage - and immediately plunged into the labyrinth
corridors. Gert, of course, found his way around them as if he were at home, while Oleg
remembered the way and was silent.  They climbed up, moving from
the main tower to the side one, from there we went down a spiral staircase,
Here Gert lit a torch, turned left and led Oleg darkly for a long time.
new corridors.
   The laboratory turned out to be a high round hall with a vaulted ceiling.
literally the size of a volleyball court. Air flow from the co-
corridor and holes in the walls, covered with bars, went into a hole
in the center of the ceiling, through which bright yellow light entered the laboratory.
light, not sunlight, because the sun never shows
moose over Trit. Something from above gave this light and provided
traction, and Oleg marveled at the skill of the laboratory’s creator.
   “Well, I’ll go,” said Gert. - If you do, you'll pull this one.
lever I'll come back.
   He pointed to a steel rod sticking out of the wall at the entrance with
with a ball at the end and came out. A stone slab moved behind him.
Such that you can’t move it right away.
   Oleg slowly examined the laboratory, wondering what
make gold, and thought. The more he thought, the more inclined he became
I began to think that the messenger was in the castle. It's easier to get a job heresimple, calculate the option with Oleg appearing here and at all
no big deal. And watch him - but the fact is that all this bedlam
That’s why it was started, Oleg had no doubt, it’s much simpler
right in the castle.  There is no risk of exposure - there are a hundred people here
servants, guards and other people.  Until you probe everyone... In-
“Oh,” Oleg interrupted himself. I’ve already reached the point of probing; soon py-
We will be the thief of everyone - which of you is the messenger here? I'm in a hurry.
Six more months; wants to watch - for God's sake, after all,
that's his right. I'll wait.
   On one of the tables Oleg came across a pile of papers. Covered
clumsy letters, these rough sheets seemed alien
meth among reagents, crucibles, retorts. Oleg looked through them
some treatise, you can’t immediately understand what it’s about. Cabalistic
signs, abstruse explanations... I’ll read in my spare time, Oleg thought.
Now it's gold. Here's the right piece.
   In a pile of garbage he found a yellowish ingot. Touched it - lead
with an alichemical admixture. It'll do. I pulled out a ling from my backpack, you-
I chopped up the “eternal” battery and connected it to the ingot. Then I did
take a deep breath and concentrate.  Atomic setup is a matter
very thin;  It was possible to start the avalanche properly only through
a few minutes.
   Now you could remove the battery. The ingot is slowly becoming
turned into gold, nuclear reactions silently boiled in it, decomposed
burning atomslead;  let the energy burst out for a moment, this
a piece of metal would become an atomic bomb; but a well-established structure
worked fine. The ingot snorted, releasing helium and hydrogen,
Oleg went to the far corner of the laboratory - among the waste there were
electrons, that is, beta radiation, were not worth exposing;
- and waited there, catching his breath after concentration.
   Then he took up the treatise again. The gold will have to be melted down,
it will turn out loose, he thought, and was immediately surprised why such
is the paper good?  White? Strange for this technical level...
Then, wading through the forest of symbols, I began to grasp the essence.
   It was a diary of laboratory experiments. It was conducted according to all the rules
lamas, carefully, systematically, and the experiments were not bad at all -
Oleg even whistled.  Organic synthesis, alkali metals,
alcohols. Hm, Oleg said to himself, it’s understandable why the chemist was suspicious.
ren in heresy.
   He turned the page. What caught my eye was the shaky writing
handwritten excerpt, a few lines in an unknown language... In non-
anyone?!
   Oleg straightened up. After all, this is...
   "You, the reader, if you remember who you are... our meeting will not
destined to take place... the truth is hidden, breaking the ranks of its distortions
teley... nothing worked out for us, let others be lucky... don't hold back
be angry with the inhabitants of the castle and don’t kill anyone!”
   Latin, Oleg stated after reading the last line.  German-
much corrupted Latin. Like thisSo.
   The entrance plate fell off with a grinding noise. Gert came in smiling
and immediately stopped smiling. Oleg sat on a stool as if in a chair
le, leaning back in the air, his eyes were closed, one hand
attached to his forehead, the other hung down, clutching a sheet of paper.
   - Oleg! - Gert called warily. - I've come!
   Oleg slowly opened his eyes and looked through Gert. That one
retreated, his hand reached for the sword:
   - You... what?!
   He saw something terrible in Oleg’s eyes.
   But Oleg had already pulled himself together.
   “What happened,” he asked, slowly getting up, “what happened?”
what happened to the person who wrote these papers?
   - Papers or lines in a secret language? - Gert clarified, calming down
repenting.
   - Lines!
   - Oh, that's a whole story! - Gert allowed himself to smile. -
Yes, I almost forgot - where is my gold?
   “I didn’t pull the lever,” said Oleg. - Sit down and tell stories -
wow!
   He pushed a free stool towards Gert with his foot.
   - Not ready yet?  Okay, I’ll wait,” Gert slowly sat down. -
So... His name was Knilt, who, according to him, was from Etoire.
When Monseigneur suspected our then chemist of heresy,
Broxa, and he has already begun to repent of his sins, we have
this Knilt curled up. He entered the large hall, knocking his staff on the stone
the same sex, and declared that he knew the secret of making gold. In exchange
to her, he demanded to release Brox. Monseigneur smiled not-
ok, but conditionsaccepted without haggling. We put Knilt in
this laboratory and gave him three days; the chemist was executed that
same day. He wouldn't have lasted long after the interrogation anyway. Knilt
I sat here for three days and of course did nothing.
   - Why?
   Gert looked at Oleg in surprise.
   - Who knows... In my opinion, he was doing completely different things here -
with our affairs. We burned it on a quick fire.
   - Did he resist?
   - What is it! Didn't even shout. He was a strange man; obsessed.
But when the monsignor learned about the lines in the secret language, he ordered
make a copy of them and announce a reward to the one who solves them
meaning.
   - For what?
   - And it’s clear to a fool! - Gert snorted. - This is the secret of manufacturing
gold! Didn't you read it?!
   - I don't need other people's recipes.
   Oleg shook his head.  Then, as if having come to his senses, he pointed
Gert at the door.
   - Wait there! It's dangerous for you to be here.
   Gert did not force himself to beg. The stove creaked, and because of
She heard a dull promise to return by morning.
   And Oleg, again lounging on a stool, as if in a chair, gave water
I love my feelings. He tapped himself on the head, twirled his finger
whiskey, spat into the forge. If this is a local "chemist", how does he know
Latin?  If he was a messenger, then why the devil let himself be burned? If
left this way, why this tearful message? Or maybe
these are the rules of the game - once you burn it, you burn it, no contact
took place?Shall we put it off until next time? Damn alien mind!
Okay, you can still afford to burn yourself, but because of this there will be delays.
let's meet!..
   Stuck in a dirty castle for six months just because
this idiot... Or is he not a messenger after all? But just a hint to him,
Oleg, that he is on the right track? And at the same time a check to see if he will give up
after the messenger went missing? But what a waste this is...
   “Ugh,” Oleg said out loud, standing up. - Okay, it's time for gold
melt.
   Well, contact, well, contact, well, contact, Oleg thought, ra-
heating the forge and smelting the ingot. The messenger is like a game of hide and seek -
howls!
   I didn’t feel like sleeping at all. Oleg stretched out his legs and, having nothing better to do,
Lat began lazily sorting through the remaining sheets of paper. Maybe it's
something else is coming...
   Soon Oleg became convinced that the lines he read in Latin were not
were the only changes Knilt made to the manuscript. B
in two or three places it was densely crossed out, in some places there were clear
chemical notes; there were also inserts in Latin. Oleg pos-
I looked at the end - there, on the penultimate sheet, again in Latin -
nor, was added in a sweeping handwriting: “I was thinking of recording the incident
walking with us in order to preserve in the memory of descendants; but I see that
what has already been said is enough - both to find out the secret and that...
to comprehend this story... It is enough for the thinking person.”
   That's it, Oleg thought. Wrong again...
   "In the memory of posterity." I could have written thisonly resident of Ophelia.
Fact. And when will I wise up...
   One could immediately realize that Latin is a dead language on Earth,
for a thousand years now; this is clearly a local invention, so Gert o
he spoke in a “secret” language, not about the “unknown”. Hence the distortions.
False alarm!  Or the messenger deigns to ask riddles,
intelligence tests...
   Oleg became gloomy, wondering what result this could give
check.
   Good jokes. It's a game for him, but it's work for me.
   I wanted to sleep again. Stretched out right on the floor, Oleg
I thought that the morning was wiser than the evening, and switched off.
   He woke up from the sound of the door opening. Rose, sea-
Guy sleepily.
   The monsignor entered the laboratory with Gert.
   Oleg, internally panicking, carried out explosive toning. With Herzo-
gom ort Trit had to be extremely careful.
   Monseigneur was eager to immediately obtain the secret of the preparation
melting gold. Exchanging glances with Gert, Oleg noted that he
clearly in no hurry to reveal to his master their little agreement
tion.  The ingot prepared for Gert lay almost in plain sight, but
no one had yet paid any attention to him. Hertha is the mouth-
raivalo. Oleg too.
   Meanwhile, the servants dragged in a chair, and the monsignor sat down on it.
And he began to set out the conditions of gilded slavery: not to leave la-
laboratories;  teach him, the Duke, to make gold himself;  every
long day sitting here over a treatise onmagic that's lying around
on that table over there, and comprehend the meaning of the lines in the secret language of nao-
owls Naosy, Oleg mentally rejoiced, well, of course, mysterious-
naya sect of believers in God-Mind, according to whom everything goes best
best practitioner of magic and alchemy! They will feed from
the ducal table, continued the monsignor, but if almost
yes!
   Gert stepped forward and in an unctuous voice listed those who had been replaced.
in recent years, chemists, astrologers and healers, calling
only names, nicknames and manner of death.
   One chemist was lucky to die from a poison of his own making.
laziness; others were not so lucky.
   Oleg nodded and nodded. It became clear to him that he would not be in the castle for long.
will be delayed.
   The monsignor pointed to a pile of papers and commanded: “Begin!”
   Oleg took the manuscript, laid it out on the table in front of him and accepted-
to read, occasionally glancing at the monseigneur. That one is not the same -
hurried, looked straight and gloomily, sipping scarlet wine from like a mi-
at least a liter glass.
   Reading the manuscript was hard work. Strange symbols, alle-
gories, terms whose meanings varied from place to place, and
completely unintelligible “explanations” where it seemed that
about something completely different. It was only because there was nothing to do that one could study
such nonsense.
   The monsignor still did not leave, and gradually Oleg stopped converting
pay attention to him. Things began to appear quite vividly in the manuscript.
written inserts,telling about the life of the author; this is of course
was much more interesting than alchemical cabalism.
   About two hours later, Oleg reached the place where Knilt - he appeared
curled up two sheets earlier - describing how he got here, to the castle.
Describing the monseigneur as a “petrified spider,” Knilt
swore that I would never have dared to enter the castle if I had not been caught in
the Duke's paws are his comrade - not in chemistry, but in faith, and Knilt, and
its predecessor, of course, was the naos. In blind hope
Knilt took a risk to save his fellow believer; but in vain - at the hour when he began
here, in the laboratory, to prepare gold, his comrade was burned on-
at the top, in the central courtyard of the castle, in front of the main gate.
Knilt, like all Naos, apparently had quite good telepathy.
physical abilities - he heard the “silent cry of death.”
   “... I threw away everything I had prepared,” Knilt wrote further.
when the executioner will not even receive the false gold of the naos. Remaining
I will devote my days to this treatise, begun by my friend. He
will be preserved;  everyone will think that the secret of gold is hidden here -
Meanwhile, I will describe how to achieve merging with the Mind."
   This was followed by multi-page descriptions of psychotechnical
exercises that vividly reminded Oleg of the years of his apprenticeship. He
switched to speed reading - I wanted to quickly find out how it would end
treatise
   Here the monsignor broke the silence and, promising Oleg that he would
childrenburned if he doesn’t solve the mystery by tomorrow evening, he left. Oleg
sighed.  The premonition was confirmed - he would not be detained in the castle.
huddle.
   He returned to the manuscript.  More and more psychotechnics, several
kind words about a comrade - even if he mentioned his name, however - and in
conclusion: “Reader! Never lose hope! Failure
only partial luck;  you always win, even if not always
everyone!"  Then came some completely awkward abstractions, understandable,
apparently only to the initiated.
   It’s clear, Oleg thought. Those lines that I read first, he
wrote at the very end, when he realized that his treatise, giving
the opportunity to master hypnosis well may fall into the hands of such
who, like him, is here in the castle. "Don't hold a grudge and don't destroy
zhay..." - this means that the one who read the treatise could destroy and he was
There's nothing to hold a grudge for. Truly, failure is only partial success.
   This was the man. Oleg collected the sheets of paper into a pile. However, why
mu "was"? Mass hypnosis is a possible thing, it could have been staged
risk your own burning. Yes, there is something to work on here; and most importantly -
with whom.
   Oleg sighed: there was no authority.
   The entrance plate rumbled so loudly that Oleg turned around. In the dark
Gert stood in the doorway.
   But what he looked like! In his hand there is a naked sword, because of the boots of the sa-
the knife is sticking out, the hat has slipped to one side, there is a battle ax in his belt,
eyes are burning.
   - What's happened? What's wrong with you? - Oleg exclaimed,jumping up
   -Who were you waiting for?  - Gert shouted back. - Who were you waiting for?
Splintered Dart?! Even a man from beyond the mountains... Answer! consumption
he shouted, raising his sword.
   Oleg began to guess. He stepped forward and carefully took the sword
by the blade with two fingers, pulled it out of Gert’s hand and quietly said
said, looking firmly into his eyes:
   - Be careful, you might cut yourself! And I was waiting for a difficult person.
What's happened?
   - Uh.. - Gert looked in amazement at his hand squeezing
emptiness. - That's how... That's how! It's clear! Only one of my loves
Dey returned and died of his wounds. There were three of them, in chain mail under a cape.
cabbage soup, and he was alone, and as Hag said, without weapons...
   Gert looked at his sword, which Oleg held with disgust
two fingers.
   He died from his wounds, Oleg thought. He killed them. Middle Ages; three in
armored against unarmed; tank vs. bound... But why
killed?!
   - This can’t be! This is witchcraft! - Gert shouted. - You
You say that you are God, but you couldn’t do it either!
   “But he could,” Oleg said thoughtfully.
   - Who is he? Tell me who he is! - Gert lowered his tone, reassured by the
Oleg's judgment.
   Oleg pointed to the table:
   - Here's your gold. Take it.
   Gert stepped towards the table and quickly hid the ingot; his fingers
stung. He said unexpectedly quietly:
   - You are terrible people. Go away! He's waiting for you!
   - Waiting? - Oleg was happy. - How do you know?
   - Hurry up.  - Gert, apparentlythere was no time to explain. Mon-
The seigneur is preparing for a sortie; he is furious. My people are already saddled
horses.  Leave, take your friend - you bring only evil.
Enough death!
   Oleg released his sword - it rang on the stone floor. Indeed
we have to go.  Messenger... how could he? And Gert - why did he suddenly
did you talk like that?  Why would he send me away? "Quite dead-
tey..." - is he really afraid? Is he really still afraid?!
   The sword clanged: Gert picked it up and threw it into its sheath.
   Ugh!  Such options need to be considered immediately! Of course he will kill
"while trying to escape"... as an accomplice... on the threshold of the laboratory
rii. And how smoothly everything was described!
   Oleg looked at Gert, pretending to think, and waited. Cool down
dragged on.  Gert, of course, did not dare to attack openly, and
That’s why he was silent, gloomily looking at Oleg.
   - What are you waiting for? - he asked finally.
   Oleg shrugged:
   - How do you know that they are waiting for me?
   Gert waved his hand impatiently:
   - You yourself were going to wait for your friend; and that’s how it’s done
the former is waiting for the latter! And that he came to you is clear:
It couldn't have happened without magic! This is your friend, no longer-
to whom.
   - Fine. - Oleg decided to find out everything.
   He turned to the table, of course, following each
smoke with Gert's movement, and began to restore order there. Cleaned up the hand
writing, moving the flasks. Gert watched without doing anything.
   Oleg turned andheaded towards the door; low vault forced
bend down;  it would be very inconvenient, the thought flashed, if he was in
really... But Gert didn't move, as if he was going to stay in
labs forever.
   Oleg stepped into the corridor and immediately retreated: he was walking towards
Monseigneur.  So, it’s true: there will be a sortie. This means that Monseigneur
I am sure that the envoy is waiting at Drot...
   “You will come with us,” the monsignor said briefly. - Gert! Let's go!
   And, turning around, he walked back.
   The detachment left the castle half an hour later. Even the ashen light -
the weather is normal in these places - it seemed festive to Oleg after
long twilight of the dungeon. The road was familiar, the local ver-
horse animals, similar enough to earthly horses that Oleg
managed to settle into the saddle, they flew forward like an arrow under the light
married riders. The wind in my ears sang the song of the approaching battle.
   We drove in silence.  Shaking in the saddle, Oleg continued leisurely
think: what happened at Drot? Why did the messenger become
kill?  Well, okay, I was late, met an ambush and realized that Oleg
taken to the castle; all the more so you should have let yourself be tied up... Or maybe
maybe he just thought that Oleg had not arrived yet, that he was delayed
a fire that really forced us to make every effort to arrive
on time? And the envoy decided to provide security? Oleg smile-
rushed - what kind of security is there, a detachment of forty cavalry! Them
it’s more unclear whykill? Why let one go?
   Oleg searched and could not find an explanation, and therefore gradually
started to worry. Old doubts have awakened: is he humanoid?
messenger?  Why such strange meeting conditions? And these murderers
wow... what if this is a direct hint to him, Oleg, - this is what we are like?!
   The journey, which took a day and a half on foot, was completed on horseback in a short time.
how many hours. Monseigneur raised his hand - and the whole detachment, forty people...
century and forty horses - stopped in one spirit. Discipline, du-
small Oleg.
   - Gert!  - called the monsignor.  Oleg concentrated and heard
short whisper: take a detour, and keep in mind - you have already suffered one thing
defeat, - monseigneur, rest assured!
   The guardians of the faith, at a sign from Gert, galloped after him. Oleg stayed
surrounded by three tall men-at-arms - they closely watched each
smoke with his movement. It wasn’t so noticeable on the road, but now
It was getting uncomfortable.
   The sun behind the gray clouds was sloping towards the horizon; gray mud,
which became ashes, squelched under the horses' hooves.
   The men-at-arms began a simple maneuver - they dismounted and silently,
moving to the sides, they began to move closer to Drot, a dark mound visible
hovering near the horizon. Oleg was pushed to the side - hurry up -
Xia. He obeyed and moved forward, urged on by the guards, who
nyami sliding behind.
   These kilometers stretched on endlessly. Oleg walked, counting
every step - I had to hide, observingconcealment of maneuver,
and with every step he became more and more gloomy - he began to understand what
he had to solve a difficult problem. In battle, in turmoil, in
Lutma - so you will have to explain yourself to the messenger, and even to this one,
incomprehensibly cruel.
   It got dark slowly. Splintered Dart was approaching; before him
It was only about a hundred steps.  Oleg finally saw that
white to the left of its black trunk - a triangle similar to
tent;  the cold wind shook him slightly. Indeed, a tent
it means they were waiting for someone here.
   Suddenly a piercing whistle was heard. Oleg froze, ducking
shishya: something is wrong, he realized. From the right, from the left came the clash of swords
- attack.  Oleg quickly looked around - of the three guards, two
Having acquired blades, they stood on both sides of him, about ten paces,
the third came very close, holding his hand behind his back. Flashing-
The battle was heating up; screams and swearing, groans and wild roar of signal
pipes - Oleg stood motionless, frankly confused.
   He did not expect a battle of this magnitude.
   The noise to the left suddenly died down; five people with drawn swords
broke through and were rapidly approaching. The left guard backed away
You can't cope with five! - and the one standing behind quickly stepped forward
and grabbed Oleg by the collar.
   - Run!  - he said quietly, and Oleg felt his back
the tip of a dagger.
   Run?  Well no! The confusion finally went away, giving way to joy
true understanding.Just a regular massacre, I have nothing to do here.
   The guard probably never understood how he ended up on the ground;
Oleg quickly pulled out his sword, managing to get up just in time,
to repel the first blow. They chopped from the shoulder, confidently, as if
outdoor; Oleg’s answer was lightning fast - that’s what he knew how to do! In non-
How many moments did the five attackers lie side by side, turned off by the mi-
at least until the morning; the right guard also got it - he tried to
hold Oleg and was hit flat on the hands.
   Bending down, Oleg ran towards the white tent; flair
told him that it was now the safest place.
   It was already completely dark.  Oleg ran towards the white spot, on the move
thinking - again not a messenger, some bandits, what now?
It's probably best to come to an agreement with them and live here,
meeting place, perhaps, and in fact the envoy is decent
late?
   Oleg opened the curtain and stepped inside. White oil lamp
brightly illuminated the tent - Oleg saw a man lounging on
beautifully dressed skins, piled in a far corner.
The man also saw Oleg and began to slowly rise... ah
yes, Oleg realized, I’m still at a fighting pace... and instantly I found myself
on his feet, with a long dagger in his hand held to the side.
   - Who are you? - he asked sharply in a voice that betrayed someone from outside the area.
   - Wandering monk.  “I was running from my enemy,” he replied
Oleg, closingbehind him a curtain, in a soft and monotonous voice. - I
I humbly pray to you, leader, for protection...
   - About protection?  - the man burst out laughing.  - At Hampa del Raiga
everyone defends himself, and judging by your sword, monk, you are de-
you bark it better than others! Be my guest - and if you want, then
and friend! Sit down, here's the wine.
   Hump del Raisch, chuckling, sank back onto the skins and
handed Oleg a silver cup.
   Oleg threw the sword - it stuck into the ground up to half the blade -
and accepted the cup. Then he squatted down.
   - I see you don’t know who you came to! - Hump laughed again
del Raig. - Yes, and I admit, I wouldn’t mind finding out who’s coming to us -
arrived today! Strong guys - the blades are still ringing! Well, rass-
show it!
   - They tied me up the other day, I didn’t really understand what the hell was...
This Duke Ort Trit is clever,” Oleg said thoughtfully, stretching
drinking thick wine.  - Bishop of all Trit, self-elected,
fanatic of a single religion, founder of the Detachment of Guardians of the Faith. Well
his people, of course.  Not a lot - they thought they would be here
only one person to wait.
   Hump del Raig laughed:
   - My joke was a success! Is the monsignor himself with them? I see he's fine
I forgot those times when I was afraid to enter my forest without a good
hundreds of riders!  And those who have a short memory risk themselves
become a head shorter! - Having laughed at your own joke, Hump del
Raig reached for his sword. - How manythem, you say?
   “Forty people,” answered Oleg, and then - once again!
Cursing himself for his carelessness, he jumped to his feet. Hump del Raig,
with his huge sword, he rushed to the exit with curses. Oleg,
having hesitated in pulling out his own sword from the ground,
followed him, still angry with himself. forty people according to local
not “a little” by standards; forty robbers from an ancient fairy tale
were a huge gang, almost an army