Sergey Shcheglov - Castle: Part 1

SERGEY SHCHEGLOV
                          Z A M O K
                    Fantastic story

                           Part 1

                             In a country engulfed in blizzard and fire,
                            A thief will not take away a bad horse.
                                                   S. Yesenin.

   Oleg looked down.
   The bitter smell of soot tickled my nose;  hands were black from
oily soot that had settled on the ancient stone of the watchtower.
Below, as before, the endless horizon stretched
a carpet of fluffy gray ash.  And there was no movement anywhere; even
the wind did not buzz in my ears. Not a sound - but how the forest, Mighty, rustled here
the forest, as the Tritians call it!
   They called it.
   Oleg looked at his hands and wiped them on his pants. Nothing for tens
hooks around; even the tower did not help him. For the last time he
I looked at the sad hills covered with ashes. No, no split-
there is no Drot left here, even if he was there, as they swore and bo-
Wanderers lived in roadside taverns, with eight girths.
   Ashes.
   Both the place and time of the meeting were now moving into the foggy distance,
barely visible to the mind. This is how you make dates under a tree.
   Oleg turned and began to carefully descend along the narrow spiral
stairs, the railings of which have turned into firebrands. The backpack was lying
still there, on a large pile of coals - apparently from the burnt gate.
Olegthrew it over his shoulders. Where to now? Castle, burnt out
completely empty. Its inhabitants seemed to have managed to leave; and if not,
then their life path ended here. Oleg knew what it was
heat on Ophelia. Oh, this is a poetic earthly name! Here's a tritya-
They don't call their planet Cragg. A small planet on the outskirts
Galaxies, traditional society - there are thousands of them. And here you go -
ta.  Coincidence?  What if not?  Discharge accident
energy?  Let’s say I used direct transportation and didn’t calculate
appearance effect? After all, I, Oleg grinned, burned half a hectare
upon landing. True, about two hundred kilometers from here, in places without
crowded and swampy.  Or maybe another one has just begun
war; or religious strife; or someone just made a bad scam
bonfire This is Ophelia.
   It seems he was in a hurry to get off the tower. After a few hours
owls, the envoy faced the same problem - the absence
meeting places. What if he appears somewhere nearby? Damn it
knows;  but Oleg did not climb back. Better move to where
beyond the gloomy hills there must have been Splintered Dart.
   Grinding the ashes with his feet, Oleg thought about the vicissitudes
fate.  Just a week ago he was sitting on Saffa; methodically, trying
avoid common mistakes, prepared for contact with his fifth civilized
tion;  curious generalizations were already looming, and suddenly - a call from Earth -
whether.  "PreparatorSoloviev! Appear at the Coordination Council to de-
fifteen zero-zero!" External diplomatic service, new
supercivilization, extremely strange circumstances of contact;
their conditions are a meeting for negotiations on a distant planet, with
each side - one representative; more precisely - Oleg smile-
was struck by the pomposity of this word - one messenger at a time. "But I don't
diplomat!" - Oleg, of course, refused, and his memory was refreshed
some facts from his biography that he is already great at
remembered.  And here he is at Ophelia to negotiate on behalf of
the entire Earth Confederation or, simply, all of humanity.
  But there is no messenger;  moreover, even the meeting place itself
no; and what’s saddest is that under the same “their conditions” Oleg could
leave Ophelia no earlier than six months later. "They" clearly calculated
they started a serious conversation. Oleg didn’t even know who “they” were.
The contact was completely unusual from the very beginning. Empty space
not far from the System began to emit radio waves; transcript
gave artificiality to the signals; when earthlings managed to answer those
However, there was a proposal to exchange information. We sent
standard contact program, they responded with this very offer
desire to exchange envoys.  Meeting place Ophelia, Tritus,
Split Dart, time - evening of the 20th Robar, 1472, local
new calendar, the name of the messenger on their part is DinoKager.
   Oleg didn’t even know whether it was a man or a woman.
   He was advised to take some extra equipment -
the scout's marriage, but Oleg refused. First of all, he didn't want to
come into contact with a weapon - after all, it was the first time in his life
real contact - but, most importantly, he knew his own
new opportunities.  So it was easy going. Backpack almost nothing
didn't weigh - some bread and meat, a flask of wine, a warm travel bag
a raincoat, a flint lighter, bought at a nearby fair,
ke;  and only in the side pocket is a ling, the only technical
the product that Oleg took with him when leaving the landing craft.
He still didn't know "their" language. They answered “they” on Linkos, and
when they met, the envoy could speak anything. Oleg
knew the rules of diplomacy: negotiations are conducted in a less polite language
good partner - and did not intend to disgrace humanity. Under your feet
something soft hit him, Oleg lost his balance and almost fell.
Stopping, he looked down. The corpse of a local animal,
not like a pig, which did not prevent him from being called a stone
boar  Stone not because he lived in the rocks, on the contrary, he
did not show his nose from the forests, but solely because of its priceless
thick skin that cannot be pierced even by an axe. The stone boar was eating
mostly rotten wood and sometimes snacked on nutritious grains
of lazy earth, its meat smelled simply terrible,completely harmless
a new and useless animal. Frowning, Oleg moved on.
   I wonder, he thought, how I recognize the messenger? Okay, if
this is a non-humanoid, an octopus or a spider; but what if it's a person? Here already
four races, try to tell them apart. Just by name. Yes, and I will-
children are not easy to recognize - in these ports and a leather jacket, the spitting image
local tramp.  I had to come up with a password. He slowed down
to adjust my backpack, and saw a man.
   Ahead, about thirty paces, right on the dirty ground strewn with
coals and covered with ashes, sat a long-haired gray-haired old man in
in rags, with a tangled beard.  Oleg began to approach him,
not daring to speak; it was very doubtful that
Lannik could look like this. But... damn, how can you tell him apart?
read?
   “Peace and rest to you,” Oleg said neutrally in Tritish. Le-
Is your path good, venerable one? Is your heart at peace? Don't need it
are you in help?
   “Thank you, wanderer,” the old man wheezed, raising his
Oleg's eyes - peace to you too; my path is easy, for it is close to the end, and
the heart found long-awaited peace; and if I could answer that
I don’t need help, I would be happy - but I’m not! You know
Are you, wanderer, how can I find the place where Ras-
chipped Dart?
   Oleg blinked twice - he was surprised. But he answered as befits the media -
to the venerable wanderer:
   - Split Dart turned out to be subservientfire; and the wisest of
the wise will not immediately find the place where he stood. But if the venerable
will tell me what he was waiting to find at Splintered Dart, I opened
I tell him my secret; after all, I’m going there too.
   - And you ask? - the old man was amazed. -You are going to the sacred
there is a place for every true Tritan and you ask your companion,
what is he going for? O stranger, your question is strange; no longer darkened -
Is your mind okay?
   What the hell kind of messenger is this, Oleg thought wearily.  Split-
The captive Drot turns out to be a sacred place; the old man wanders there
worship your god... Okay; no matter what, but still along the way
chick.
   - The place where you are heading is not sacred for every Tritan,
venerable; the fire that ignited could not but know that it would burn along with
Mighty forest. And I'm heading to Splintered Dart as a place
meeting with a distant friend.
   - Your path will be long and difficult, wanderer, for it is not illuminated
faith and truth.  I'll go with you; Jerome's covenant is to help in
wandering darkness.
   Oh Great Cosmos, Oleg thought, this was just not enough.  Ee-
Ronets!  It's not far from the underground prison. How much did he manage
already understand local beliefs, their mixing has reached such
scale that no one remained safe. But the subsequent
bodies of the ancient - and once mighty - faith in the prophet Jero
played with special zeal, fueled by a strange peculiarity
wanderingHieronian preachers are always in op-
positions of any faith - including the official cult of Hieron,
which was the state religion in Merge, a country in the south of Po-
peninsulas, - for the prophet Hieron bequeathed in one of his dark
scriptures that only those who are ready to become a martyr can open the souls
human and turn them onto the path of redemption, that martyrdom is the destiny
only the righteous, and sinners are unworthy of suffering and death,
sending them peace and freedom from redemption. The Jeronians were very
famous for regularly organizing mass confessions and repentance
tions that ended with expiatory self-immolations, after which
ry many - Oleg saw such - became ardent admirers -
our new faith and how possessed people rushed to the fire; religion
this one, destroying its adherents, with its spread
resembled the division of unicellular organisms. Oleg didn’t understand what he was pushing
people into the mainstream of this meaningless faith, illuminated only by a vague
Jero's prediction of the coming of eternal peace and prosperity
on the day when the number of the Jeronians will exceed the number of sinners, for from
those who believe in the prophet are not able to die without being converted by death
at least one person in his faith; but, remembering earthly
Middle Ages, agreed that this was possible. Oleg himself is used to
modestly adhere to the religion of those in power and shun pain
shih cities.  The world is big, but man is small. Stillgo around everything
moose
   -Where are we going, sir? - Oleg asked, suppressing
annoyance.  - After all, finding Split Dart won’t help you now.
Holy Sipa!
   The old man slowly stood up and spat with relish. Oleg was surprised again
- Saint Sipa seemed to be revered by everyone; spitting in Trit was considered
one of the worst insults.
   - Hieron will show us the right path, and the false Sip will not lead us astray.
him!  - the old man proclaimed and walked forward, in the direction from where
Oleg came.  He paused for a moment, but, judging that the old man
knows better, followed.
   He trudged through the mercilessly dusty ashes, slowly thinking.
   What to do six months before the capsule arrives? The country is poor
medieval time;  Just look, you'll have to get into a fight. B
monastery, perhaps, should I go? But monasteries are also being burned. It's even a pity that
there is no authority as a preparator - there is something to change here. But - "before
meeting with the envoy, no action", an order is an order.
It will be fulfilled.
   Where, however, is this very messenger? Terms of the meeting in the UK
novel, and as it now turns out, a very popular place
thought about checking; everything could be expected from the messenger
give. And if so, Oleg realized, why did I discount this
heretic?! Perhaps the meeting has already taken place, and now the discussion is underway.
tact?  Would I myself refuse an opportunity to test
Let your colleagues look at the creature of an alien world before de-to monster your own abysses of intelligence?  Eh, yes he is
I might not understand that I am me! True, to come here in the form of e-
Rontsa... But who knows “them”.
   Let me tell him something in our own way, in an earthly way.
   - Stop! Don't turn around! - Oleg said quietly on the link
The first thing that came to mind.
   The old man stopped and turned:
   - What words did you say, wanderer? - he asked. - If
this is a prayer, which god are you praying to? If this is an invocation, then
what do you want to call out on us?
   Oleg noted with displeasure that if he were the old man, he would have led him
yourself exactly the same. But the job is done; at least he is pre-
stared.
   “I remembered the wanderer with whom we set out for half of Trit. He
loved to say these words to different people in the back; and everyone was waiting for who
it won't turn around.  He believed that he would be a special person, and
together they will reach the end of the world. And he alone had no time to go there -
horns So I thought, sir...
   “Where is your friend now?” the old man interrupted him, looking at
eyes - when you broke up; what did he look like?
   Oleg blinked three times.  Donkey, what to do now? But the words are already
just rolled off the tongue:
   -Have you heard of him, sir?
   - No, but I know a lot of strange people. It’s worth knowing more
about one thing. There are so few of us, marked by the gift of seeing through...
   - He was not marked with this gift; we broke up two months ago
ass, he went his way, I went mine. Wherehe is now, only they know
almighty.  He looked ordinary - stooped, sharp nose,
round eyes, and there is nothing in them - no interest, no faith. Abyss.
   - You're lying. - The old man’s eyes went out, he turned and walked
further.
   - Great Cosmos!
   Oleg could not resist. It has never been split so quickly before. old man
clearly saw right through it. Yes - but is he a messenger or not?!
   - You have never seen this man; your spells are known
“We are for you alone,” continued the old man, without turning around, confident,
that Oleg hangs on his every word. - I know how difficult it is to say about
a familiar person and how easy it is to come up with someone you have never
saw.  Cast your own spells, but do not pass them off as someone else’s; it's not
will save you, but will destroy others.
   - Sorry, venerable... - Oleg despaired of understanding anything.
old man.  Messenger or not, he is clearly a complex man. And
It's best to wait. Business card given; wants to watch
let him watch; someday it will open, but if it doesn’t open, I’ll leave
my months and will return to Saffa. - My spells do not harm anyone
evil.
   The old man did not answer.
   They walked for a long time.  How many hours of silence fell under your feet,
no one counted;  the old man walked tirelessly; light sector of the sky,
where, behind the thickness of smoke and eternal Tritian clouds, the local
the sun moved to the right and began to descend.
   It’s interesting, thought Oleg, whether the custom of burning heretics depends on
contentoxygen in the atmosphere? Earth, Ophelia, Ramor - and more
a good dozen known only to me, everywhere more than twenty
cents  But at the low-oxygen Fiesta, the heretics are poured with special
cial molten salts, exhibiting the resulting statues in temples.
A clear illustration of hellish torment...
   What am I? Some kind of nightmare, would anyone overhear the thoughts, this
the messenger of humanity thinks so! Brrr, what kind of contact is there?
   However, what should I do? In about twenty hours I’ll get tired of trudged along.
this mysterious heretic, and you will have to drop everything and get out into
populated areas, and the envoy, of course, missed by a kilometer -
the ditch is a hundred in the other direction, and now it’s stomping along some dirt roads
neighboring country;  and probably won’t meet in six months.
So you think about all sorts of vile things.
   - Here! - exclaimed the old man, suddenly stopping.
   Oleg woke up from his thoughts and looked forward.
   The heretic stood tall, with flowing white hair, on
bright black background of a trunk charred, it seemed, to the core
a huge tree thrown to the ground by fire. Oleg realized that
this. Splintered Dart that never completely burned. Not burnt
here, in an abundant oxygen atmosphere... It was in this tree
something sacred.
   - It's finished!  - continued the old man. - O great Hieron, glorious
the day when you condescended to us and initiated us into the secret of vision
right through...
   The old man prayed. He prayed standingjust raising his face to those
the dull sky, and Oleg admired this medieval idyll -
such a calm and strong faith was embodied in this man.
Then there was a rustling sound on the left, Oleg turned around and saw a man who
Dimo, who had just jumped from a huge trunk. Tall, okay
dressed in black leather, with a large sword at his side, he stood up from
deep squat, in a cloud of raised ash, spreading into a smile
ke.
   - Peace and tranquility to you, venerable ones! - he said cheerfully. - Finally!
   - Is it you, Dino?! - Oleg smiled back, realizing that this
the man was waiting for him.  - Dino Kager, messenger? - He hesitated, no
knowing what else to say. - I’m from Earth, my name is Oleg Solovyov...
and finally fell silent, waiting.
   - Very nice! I've been waiting for a long time! Finally!
   Oleg took a breath.
   “I’m already starting to worry,” he said. - Well, how did you get there?
Was it your appearance that caused the fire?
   The envoy winced.
   - Thank you, everything is fine. The forest was set on fire by fanatical infidels, yes-
to cleanse the world of filth. I don't know how successful they were.
but it burned beautifully.
   “Ahh...” Oleg drawled understandingly. -Have you seen him...
   The messenger nodded casually, then pointed to the old man:
   - Did you arrive together?
   - No, it just happened along the way.
   - So much the better... By the way, what god does he pray to? Hieron?
   - I think so.
   - Great!  - The messenger rubbed his hands. - How's the road? There was no
whether there are misunderstandings,troubles?
   - Since I'm here, what are we talking about?
   - Perfect!
   The messenger directly radiated satisfaction.  Oleg was waiting: now
could have waited a long time. The main thing was done.
   - Well, speak up! - said the envoy and winked cheerfully at Oleg.
   He was confused:
   - What?!  You made an appointment, I arrived. No instructions
There’s not even a password, just a name... I thought you’d start!
   “Everything has its time,” the envoy said mysteriously. - In our
There is no need to rush things... Do you understand me?
   Oleg no longer understood anything.
   “No,” he admitted frankly, annoyed that he had shown
reflects the dullness and slow-wittedness inherent in the average earthling. -Meet-
they worked, and it was great. The sooner we get away from this hospitable
Whether the planets are towards you or towards us, it makes no difference, so much the better. Otherwise any
fire and start all over again... Or... - Oleg blinked, - you too
have to hang around here for six months?
   Oleg said the last phrases, finally realizing to switch to
Linkos to facilitate mutual understanding. Talk about intercivilization
national diplomacy in vernacular Trit was absurd.
The envoy listened attentively and nodded.
   - So what are we going to do? - Oleg asked sadly, already
imagined months of wandering in this truly “hospitable
"real" planet. Yes, even in the era of religious wars.
   “Well, let’s go,” said the messenger thoughtfully and without even
looking at Oleg, he climbed back onto the trunk,resting on the charred
remains of branches. Oleg climbed after him, wincing at the thought that he would over-
completely smeared. Together with the envoy, they moved with the anti-
on the opposite side of the trunk, and, rising from the ground, Oleg realized
I was angry that for some reason the envoy never switched to Linkos.
   There were people in black standing around, with stone faces.
   Oleg didn’t even have time to be surprised. The messenger touched his shoulder and
commanded:
   - Quiet! There's another one!
   And people silently piled in.
   Oleg didn’t even think anything while they were knitting him. Wildness ka-
someone.  Messenger, supercivilization, hemp, as thick as a finger -
noah, rope.
   Then Oleg thought that he understood why “they” asked for one
messenger. Tie.
   Then I thought I was crazy.
   They rolled him against a coal trunk. The men in black immediately
up, to the other side, and instantly returned with the old man, too
swaddled with thick rope. The old man was calm, his face resembled
the mask was missing. In a trance, Oleg determined. I wonder if he is for them
what?
   - Hug, Pen, Wolf! - ordered the messenger. - Stay here.
Another one should arrive, there was an appointment here. This one has arrived
first,” he lightly kicked Oleg.
   The three in black bowed their heads and disappeared behind piles of coals.
   “Not a bad harvest,” said the messenger. - Well, now in
castle Monseigneur will be pleased.
   - Bagen himself... - the blacks argued. - Gert worked deftly
tal... It turned out to be niceday...
   Oleg slowly came to his senses.

   It is only believed that the preparations have a quick reaction,
powerful muscles and all that. They can, of course, reflect
strike before the enemy decides to strike or see through it
intricacies of political intrigue long before they begin
are invented. But if something really unexpected happens...
No, the preparator reacts just like an ordinary person. That is
doesn't react at all.
   What kind of messenger is this, Oleg thought almost out loud, gritting his teeth
out of shame. He's the last idiot I am, not a word in our language, in Lin-
I didn't say anything!  He courted me like an ordinary heretic, and
tied like a heretic!
   They took him by the collar, pulled him to his feet and pushed him forward.
Oleg concentrated - since he’s caught, he needs to suggest a picture, not
It was still enough to be remembered by sight. Well no, now I'm with you
I’ll work, he thought angrily, instilling in everyone the terrible mug of the forest -
a long robber, overgrown with a red beard up to his eyes. Now you have
dance with me... of course, there is no authority, but the fact of the threat is
person, we will act within the limits of necessary self-defense...
Maybe we should stay here?  However, it’s already getting dark, messenger
It is unlikely that he would be late for the place that he himself had appointed; so
until we resist, we will not freeze in the night among the ashes, but in
castle to go - although not in the most pleasant company;  in general, a castle
much morea convenient place for a meeting than this ashes, I will
If the messenger needs it, he will find it himself.  Oleg thought so confusedly and confusedly,
again grinding the ashes with their feet, they walked in the gathering dusk,
two in black in front, two in back, Gert at the very end of the squad.
   Soon, however, Gert caught up with Oleg and walked alongside.
   - Let's talk! - he suggested. - If you tell the truth, I’ll let you go!
   Oleg answered in Russian.
   -Are you persistent?  - Gert muttered contentedly. - Okay, stomp,
enjoy life;  It's short, isn't it? You stubborn fanatics
ready to burn the whole world, just not to lose the pleasure of being
roasted on the fire...
   Apparently, Gert loved to talk. And you have to give it to him
Sure enough, he succeeded.
   - That's all? - Oleg asked sympathetically.
   - What - that's it? - Gert sniffled. - What are you, a fanatic, what do you want to say?
are you scratching?
   “Listen, Gert,” Oleg said quietly but impressively. - Me
name is Oleg. And there is no fanatic here.
   Oleg has already had occasions to be convinced: a fanatic is one of the worst
There are some swear words here. And although I wanted to talk to Gert, it seemed
Well, it’s not the first or second time he’s been to Splintered Dart.
ambush, but only on equal terms. But it won’t work out, Oleg thought detachedly.
but I'll run away. I’ll run away at night, search everything around Drot, then go through the
not;  maybe I'll meet a wanderer like me. Bad
of course there will be, no legend, no safe conduct, no resident
no. Zavalayano map either.
   “Oleg, a fanatic,” Gert reasoned, “is the same thing; so and so
for your heresy I am owed ten coins, because it is
wai.  And besides, he was waiting for an accomplice; the increase may go beyond
I'm in danger.
   - So you’re trying for money? - Oleg chuckled.
   “For the idea,” Gert was offended. - Such an idea: you have to live somehow!
Catching you heretics is a profitable business; if only you were...
It’s good to let you go... And guess what, you don’t want to die?
   The hint was clear. Oleg, however, pretended that he did not understand.
   - Don’t you see - I’m not afraid? - he answered gloomily. - I just got lost
here you are, and you know the way...
   Gert fell silent, as if he had lost interest in the conversation.  In Mol-
They walked another kilometer.
   Then Gert got tired of being silent.
   - Are you going to run away? - he asked.
   - Where? - Oleg answered almost sincerely.
   - Where did you come from, Oleg, that you don’t know the roads? From the west, from
east?
   - Above.
   - Because of the mountains, that means... And you want to go to the torture chamber and to the stake;
all it takes is five hundred coins.
   “If I had five hundred coins,” Oleg grinned, “we would go to
the castle is separate.
   “Yeah,” Gert laughed. - Listen, maybe you should heal
can you?  or predict fate? or do you know a lot about chemistry? On
the other day we were left without a chemist, Monseigneur personally deigned to reserve
mature into heresy...
   “I sympathize,” said Oleg. - For a chemist, that means you’re nothing
notreceived.
   “Only an executioner,” Gert chuckled. - So I say, a place of freedom -
but... You're not stupid; and five hundred coins is nothing for a chemist!
   - Moreover, you will always have time to get your ten. You,
must be very rich, Gert?
   “You read minds,” muttered Gert, “you are a sorcerer.” One more
increase... You will have to work day and night to earn a decent
thank me!
   “But we haven’t agreed yet...” Oleg muttered in surprise.
   - So let's go away and come to an agreement.
   Things get done quickly here, Oleg thought. However, dare! one
alone with a sorcerer and a fanatic - and is not afraid. If also hands
He will untie me, I will forgive him everything.
   They were about fifty steps behind. The blacks were well trained
The Vanirs didn’t bat an eyelid, they just walked forward. The old man, aka Ba-
bgen, was still in a trance. And he walked as if he were hovering above the ground.
   “I’m not some kind of murderer,” Gert noted, stopping. On
If you look at another fanatic - ugh, how the earth bears him! I would like to
finished him off on the spot, out of pity. But money... Well, how can we solve it?
   Oleg tugged at his tied hands and said nothing.
   “Well, yes, of course,” Gert grinned, “I don’t agree.”
you hesitate, and untie your hands... If you please.
   He drew his sword and with one blow cut all the ropes,
abundantly wrapped around Oleg. Oleg understood the reason for Gert's courage
he wielded the sword like a god.
   “That’s another matter...” muttered Oleg, rubbinghands.
Soooo...
   He tuned in, then created a picture.
   - How much does such a piece of gold cost you?
   Gert should have seen how Oleg had a golden one in his hands.
a fist-sized nugget. And I saw:
   - Eternal ancestors! Thousands! And you still say that you have nothing
no?  - Then Gert obviously remembered that Oleg was searched, and
I was absolutely delighted. - So that means you really are
because of the mountains?! You are a wizard!
   “I am God,” Oleg remarked modestly. He was filled with laughter.
   He was very pleased that Gert, when he saw the nugget, did not throw away
I want to chop him, Oleg, into noodles.
   Gert became much prettier in his eyes.
   “That’s good,” Gert muttered, as if he hadn’t heard. -
So what are we going to do?
   And he raised the lowered sword.
   Oleg liked this too.
   - You will tell me about all the heretics you caught from Ras-
chipped Dart. I really need to meet the one I've been waiting for
find there.  I must arrive at the castle as an honored guest, titles
you'll figure it out yourself.  When we meet the one I was going to, half-
eat two of these pieces. Or... - Oleg extended his hand with the nugget to
Gert's face and removed the picture.
   Gert understood everything, smiled and sheathed his sword.
   “Let's go,” he said. - And get ready to listen; my story
it will be long...
   Oleg walked and hardly thought. The conversation was being conducted by someone else, already
entered into the role of a “wizard”, and Oleg knew that it was “someone”will settle down in the castle to glory; his fate was arranged, at least
at least for the near future, but the main thing is to start, then
fame will run ahead of you, and invitations and kidnappings will not
children at lights out, and six months, not six years, will fly by in these games
with fate like an arrow...
   Gert spoke with gusto about his first ambushes at Drot.
Then he came across several dozen heretics per day.
   Oleg interrupted him:
   - How long does it take to get to the castle?
   - Tomorrow evening we will be there... Listen, are you really because of
mountains? They say you don't need God?
   Oleg winced. He provided information about what was happening around the corner.
I definitely heard a lot while getting here. They said that there are people there
they do without God, perform miracles, fly through the air and drink
something much stronger than the strongest wine; what to return from there
It’s impossible that the people there are all wizards and drive
friendship with demons, and for this or for another reason, with no one
don't fight.
   Even the storytellers did not believe the latter. Oleg then still regretted
I thought that I limited myself to two approximate turns. It was necessary
study the planet in more detail.
   So there was no way to impersonate a wizard from behind the mountains.
case it is impossible. They will torture you with questions and threaten you with terrible punishments.
yum, if you don’t tell me this minute how to get there,
steal treasures and return unharmed.
   - We don’t have a God; but I don’t know what’s around the corner,was not, - deviation-
Oleg answered chirpily.
   - Where is this “at your place”? - Gert immediately asked.
   - No matter where you are, you won’t get rich there. Continue your
story and do not try to find out what is beyond your understanding.
   Gert sighed, complained about the high cost of wine and continued.
   Soon Oleg lost all interest in his story. He cares
death was tired of listening, all the stories were sadly similar, like
drops of autumn rain, except perhaps when
"They took seven - God have mercy, such disgusting faces, such ulcers...
I couldn’t stand it and ordered everyone to be killed on the spot; fifty coins
Lost in those days!"  The unfortunate heretics were simply confused
religions; Gert appeared before them with a drawn sword and an order
called: “Pray!”  - They prayed, naturally, to their god. And after-
Since there were enough gods, every second one filled Gert’s pocket. Br-r,
like on Earth in the old days, Oleg thought.