Loe raamatut: «Gryphon dynasty»

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Translator Natalia Lilienthal

ISBN 978-5-0059-2672-2

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

What curiosity leads to?

Fiona went after an unusual bird and greatly regretted it. The golden-haired gyrfalcon led her high into the mountains. Her dress was torn and her arms and legs scratched, and the bird was now climbing a little higher, then he zigzagging, as if to taunt her and lead as far away from crowded places as possible. If she had not found that ill-fated feather on the road, she would not have noticed the gyrfalcon. A chain of ridiculous events coupled with curiosity could lead her into a trap.

Fiona looked back. The height she had climbed was dizzying. The carriage that had passed down the road looked no bigger than a grain of sand. And the gyrfalcon flew even higher. It was pure suicide to follow it, but it was scary to go back down as well. The soles of her shoes were slipping on the mountain trail.

A little higher up there was a gaping hole in the cave, and voices were heard from there. Could it be that there were people alive up there? Lost wretches like her? The gyrfalcon flashed its golden plumage in the sun and disappeared into the opening of the cave. It had been foolish to follow it from the start, but when she saw the glittering golden bird, she decided it was a sign from heaven.

There were hums and mysterious chants coming from the cave. Fiona listened:

«One who calls to us?

Who sleeps, who waits for?

The master of the world is coming,

In a century or this year,

Show yourself to us, among the deserts…»

The winds have brought and confounded the sounds. It’s a hymn of sorts! It sang of the sands and the glittering deity, but there were only mountains and road dust beneath. Still, Fiona went, and then even climbed forward. The words of the hymn were both frightening and intriguing. The monotonous hum struck with mystery, and the golden gyrfalcon, which flew into the cave’s yawn, was very much to be seen again.

«Have you fallen in love with him?» Fiona scolded herself harshly. «He’s just a bird, and you’re dreaming of him like a bride dreams of her fiancé. Go and get him! He has wings and you haven’t. Fool!»

Talking to herself had been her favorite pastime since she’d been without a family. But she might as well talk to these mountains. They would not answer. The hum coming from the cave should not be considered a response to the wails that escaped her lips.

She almost fell down. To fall was to crash to her death. Fiona’s heart pounded fast and frightened. Her disheveled reddish hair made it difficult to see properly.

She had to crawl back to the cave. Pity there was nothing to hold on to, and she had no rope or cord. Fiona had already managed to find a small ledge, leaned on it and pulled up. Now she could see into the cave, which hovered at an enormous height.

Inside, a fire was blazing. Who would think of stoking it in the warm season? The fire was strange. It glowed blue, then purple, then turned golden yellow. It must have been a play of light and shadows. No warmth came from the flames. Several big proud birds sat silently around the fire, but no people were visible in the cave. Then who was singing?

Fiona made a last desperate effort, pulled up and climbed into the cave. It was cool and gloomy inside. Sparks from the fire sprinkled, but many of the objects around the fire were still unlit.

Fiona shuddered when bones and skulls crunched under her foot. There appeared to be many in the cave, and they all looked human. Don’t panic yet! It was the chanting that had startled her, and dead skeletons could not sing, as she knew. A flock of beautiful, majestic eagles had gathered around the fire. They sat around so rankly, as if they possessed royal manners. Wasn’t she dreaming about all this? No, the scratches and abrasions on her hands were real. The pain pinches the skin that has been peeled off. It doesn’t hurt in dreams. And in reality, there are no such big eagles who behave like well-mannered men of high society. Besides, one eagle has something like a miniature crown glittering in its head. It’s probably some kind of speck that only looks like a crown from a distance.

The whole golden eagle was not to be seen among them. Only the largest bird had a few tail feathers of gold.

«Who are you?»

Fiona turned at the voice behind her.

«We didn’t call you!» The handsome young man, a blond boy, was assessing her with an arrogant look. «We could not have been summoned by a puny country girl who was not a deity.»

«Who are we?» He was the only one Fiona could see before her, and she wondered how he had managed to get up here without bleeding like she had. Not a scratch on him. The blond man was dressed like an aristocrat, in a sumptuous blue camisole with lace cuffs woven with images of griffins. He put his jeweled ringed hands on Fiona’s face.

«She is beautiful and gentle! She would be good for breakfast.»

«Condor, leave her alone!» A man’s voice came from the fire. «Come with us! We can’t complete the circle without you.»

Fiona rubbed her eyes in amazement. How she hadn’t noticed at once that there were boys bent over the fire. It was a whole circle of thirteen boys. Where were the birds? One feather was burning in the fire, and the action around the fire itself resembled some kind of witchcraft.

«We have a guest!» The tallest of the lads opened the circle. «Come to get warm? Or have you flown in?»

Is he joking? Fiona tensed. Barely had the boys’ hands parted as the flames went out. The cave was immediately brighter without the fire. Daylight penetrated the narrow manhole. It was as if the fire was blocking the light rather than creating it.

«Let her go!» Condor muttered dryly.

«Let her stay,» protested the lad, who was a head taller than the others. He was the man in charge.

«I am Orvel,» he said, «and these are my brothers, Leroy, Tarth, Otton, Lestan, Archibald, Vernon, Hawthorne, Seyn, Warwick, Terence, Simon, Wern, and Condor.

The last name was as if it were superfluous. Orvel almost forgot about him. The handsome blond twisted unhappily when he heard his name.

«And I’m Fiona,» she called timidly. Orvel’s anthracite eyes hypnotized her.

«Send her away!» Condor insisted.

«Can’t you see? She is one of ours.»

«She is the girl from the village!»

Orvel beckoned him to be quiet.

So they are all brothers? They really do look a lot like each other. Fiona considered them. They were all beautiful, all with dark silky hair and piercing blue eyes. It seemed to be a color commonly called violet, even though it was a poetic comparison. And Fiona was no good at poetry, but she would have liked to compose madrigals in honor of such handsome men. How pale they all were! Not a blood in their faces. Orvel had eagle-like features. The golden-haired one here was Condor. So he’s their brother too? You couldn’t tell by his looks.

«You’re not from the village,» Orvel determined.

«It is true. I’m from the mill, which is in the countryside.»

But he shook his head in the negative as well. His predatory gaze slid over her figure. Fiona immediately felt ashamed of her plain burgundy dress with lace-up front. Only maids wore it. All her new acquaintances, on the other hand, were dressed like princes. She, on the other hand, wore no bows or jewelry. The only gorgeous thing about her was her wavy red hair, which reached to her waist. It’s more orange than red, so she’d be lost in the fall foliage if she were fleeing from a flock of eagles. But now it was summer in the woods. Among the green trees, her bright hair was easy to see from on high.

Why did such thoughts pop into her head? Fiona wondered to herself. The fear that she was about to have to flee from a flock of birds of prey appeared suddenly and was getting stronger and stronger. Unreasonable fears had never plagued her before.

Could it be that witchcraft was indeed practiced here? Fiona had heard from gossip mongers that when village witches witchcraft on people, the victims began to suffer inexplicable fear. But she’d never heard of rich aristocrats being able to do black witchcraft at the cauldron like hillbillies.

«Would you like to join us?» Orvel nodded at the circle of skulls laid out around the already extinguished fire. «We were just waiting for someone to be the last one to show up, and here you are. It’s a sign! You have to close the circle. Condor is of no use.»

The blond boy gave a grudging snort, and regarded Fiona as if she were an annoying beggar who should have been expelled from decent society long ago. The girl clenched her fists in frustration. Well, why exactly the most handsome guy turned out to be such a nuisance! If only he had had a good character! Then she wouldn’t have been able to get away from him.

But it was Orvel, not Condor, who was the most courteous. For some reason Fiona didn’t like Orvel at all. Perhaps it was his predatory gaze. His dark eyes seemed to drain all her energy. Only to spite Condor, she nodded eagerly.

«I’m ready to join you.»

Orvel rejoiced. She hoped he wouldn’t get her involved in any adventures. She’d already taken a perilous journey chasing a bird. She didn’t have the energy for another adventure.

«I knew you were sent from on high,» Orvel took her hand and scratched it lightly. His nails are sharp, aren’t they? For some reason the color was black.

«Get ready for round two,» he turned to his brothers. «We have one more try.»

She wondered what he meant by that. His brothers immediately flinched. Fiona noticed, as they parted, that in the center of the skull circle, besides the fire, there was a carcass that had been butchered. Was it a doe? Or was it a deer? The carcass had been skinned. You can’t tell by eye now. Orvel took her closer, and Fiona shuddered. It’s the skinned carcass of a woman.

«Yes, don’t be so frightened!» Orvel acted as if she were imagining it. «You’re trembling! Calm down! Otherwise it won’t work. Do you like to dance? All the village girls love to dance at village parties. Let’s all take turns leading you in the dance.»

«Except for me,» said Condor, stepping to the edge of the cave as if he were going to jump down and fly. He’s got a lot of nerve! Or maybe he dislikes her so much that he’d kill himself not to dance with her.

The cave was no ballroom, but it would do for emergencies. Orvel led her in the dance first, then Leroy, then Tarth, and so everyone took turns doing a circular pas with her, passing her from hand to hand.

«That’s the one!» Orvel looked at her with delight. «It was like she was made for all of us, not just one of us. And her hair is like a flame. We don’t have to test her anymore. She was definitely sent to us.»

For a moment Fiona thought the circle of gentlemen beside her was a circle of eagles. They moved their wings and wanted to peck. But instead of pain she felt fresh kisses on her lips.

A large bird circled at the entrance to the cave, but Fiona didn’t care anymore. Suddenly a woman’s voice called out to all the brothers.

«Who is she?» There was a lady standing on the threshold of the cave, not a large bird. That’s too bad, Fiona sighed. The bird could be chased away, and the lady had a capricious and self-assured look.

«Your timing is bad, Ornella. We’re busy.»

Orwell said that. The other brothers frowned. Only Condor obediently stepped aside, letting Ornella go ahead. Is he in love with her? He looks just like a lover!

The lady is more elegant than beautiful. She has the same griffin embroidered in silver thread on her splendid corsage as all her brothers wear.

«She is superfluous,» Ornella looked down at Fiona. «Let her go where she came from.»

«Let her stay,» Orwell put his arm around her waist. Fiona flinched. He had eagle claws on his hands. He’d hurt her a little. Maybe he didn’t mean to, but living with a bird’s claws instead of nails meant being a predator against his will.

«If she does not leave, I will tear her to pieces!»

The arrogant lady was not joking. Somehow all her boyfriends were wary of her, or they were just fawning over her from the fact that they admired her. Fiona already knew that for young guys the most important thing is the girl they are in love with. But they didn’t all fall in love with her right away, did they? What was so special about her? Did she come here on a date with them or to perform a witchcraft rite?

Whoa! The circle might not be witchcraft. The skulls might have been left in the cave by savages, the feathers by real birds, and the noble gentlemen here are just having fun.

Fiona did not want to become their next amusement.

She would not leave, and the lady offered, taking off her black scarf. She didn’t seem to be wearing it a minute ago, but she couldn’t have pulled it right out of nowhere.

«Let’s play pinch-hit!»

The boys went pale all at once.

«You don’t want to, do you?»

«She wants to be with us, so she has to share our games.»

She blindfolded Fiona, scratching her cheek lightly with her claw.

«Let’s start a regular game, and then a game of steel! If you don’t catch us, you’ll be sorry. No more than a minute to catch each one.»

Unusual game! A minute passed, and Fiona was scratched with a claw so that she screamed.

«Courage!» is the woman’s voice, but it is no longer her hand, but the wing of a huge bird. It is running across her elbows, and at the end of it is a claw! There is pain again! Fiona screamed at the top of her voice. She tried to remove the bandage, but it was as if it were glued to her eyelids. She couldn’t see anything under it. There was a reason it was black! It stuck to her skin like Velcro!»

«Stop it!» Fiona shouted, but the attacks didn’t stop. Someone was laughing in a corner in the distance. Something was being moved across the floor, obviously skulls. Then there was the crunch of bones breaking. Someone had stepped on the skulls on purpose. She tripped over one of them and almost fell.

Nearby, birds’ wings flapped, voices echoed in the distance. Where did people go when there were birds all around? There was a whole flock, and they were scratching at her with their claws.

«Stop it!» It was the Condor’s voice. He tore the blindfold off Fiona’s face. Birds were circling him. One wing hovered over his shoulder, hiding his arm. Or was it his arm that had become a wing? Fiona backed away from him, seeing his eyes redden.

«Run for your life!» He advised her hoarsely.

She ran as fast as she could, knowing that she would never have another chance to escape. But there was no escape. At the exit she slipped, fell, and rolled down the stones. Her dress caught on something and kept her from falling for a long time. Fiona had expected a sharp bough or rocky ledge to have pierced her skirt, but it was the claws of a large bird. It was a gryphon! Fiona had never seen a real live gryphon in her life. It was only on a tapestry. But this gryphon was agile and alive. And it looked at her like a victim. One second its red eyes studied her with long gaze, and then suddenly its claws gripped her narrow waist and took off with the victim into free flight. The land and mountains remained far below. Fiona realized that there was no use in lashing out now. The gryphon soared so high that the surrounding world disappeared behind the clouds.

Dead Witnesses

She was looking for an unusual bird, and so she found it. The gryphon carried it in its talons like a toy. The feathers on the tips of its wings whipped across its face, and it was bright golden. So this was the bird she had naively pursued. She should have tempered her curiosity. Then she wouldn’t be dangling in the bird’s claws now, like a dolt. They were stuck somewhere between the celestial spheres and the tops of the snowy mountains. It was at the level of the pinnacle clouds.

It was cold and scary. It was as if gryphon had figured he had every right to her, for she was the one who had first started chasing him. She was mistaken! What could he do? If he’d known her to speak human, she’d have apologized. There they would have parted ways. But a gryphon didn’t know human speech. It was useless to ask him to go down and let her go free, so Fiona cried and kept silent.

You have played the game! Curious fool! Goes looking for an adventure on her head! She had her eye on a golden bird! It would have been better to find a dragon’s treasure. A bird of prey doesn’t have golden feathers. And they’re hardly made of pure gold. It is just the color of gold. Fiona scolded herself. She should have been more circumspect.

Ornella’s annoyed cries came from somewhere downstairs. She was not happy to have a toy taken away from her. Fiona was tired of feeling like a toy. Now it was scrapes and scratches, now it was flying in a bird’s claw! It’s an outrage! And the annoying shouts of the arrogant lady are cutting to the ear. How can she even hear the voices of people left far below? Not even the mountain tops can be seen anymore. They have disappeared below under the clouds.

The gryphon hugged her tighter. He was agitated for some reason and even looked back. Fiona screamed now. Its sharp claws pierced the fabric of her dress and then sank into her skin. Somewhere behind her there was a sound. It was an overhead echo that picked up her cries. No, there is no echo in the clouds! Someone was flying behind them. Fiona tried to look back. There were many griffins there. A whole flock! They are catching up.

The gryphon carrying her stirred and flew faster than the wind. Had he decided to take her only for himself, without sharing her with the others? Is she his dinner? What else would a large bird of prey need her for?

The flapping of wings behind him grew louder and louder. There was no escape now. One gryphon had already separated from the flock and was gaining on them. Fiona was frightened. If they fought over their prey right in the air, she would not escape the fall and death. She suddenly realized that her greatest fear was to crash to her death. Once she and a friend were taking sacks of flour to a feudal castle, and she saw a noblewoman there who killed herself by throwing herself from the castle wall. Everyone said she had been driven mad by a coastal witch who had wandered into the castle, but that was not what struck Fiona, but the condition of the fancy-dressed body, which had turned into a bloody puddle. Bundles of feathers protruded from the torn flesh. So the griffin feathers tickling her cheeks at the moment reminded her involuntarily of the shock she had experienced in the past. Was it a bad omen that she would end up like the lady who smashed her forehead on the blocks beneath the fortress wall?

Now the two griffins would collide in the sky, and there would be no fighting. But the griffin carrying her suddenly released one claw and golden lightning flashed through the clouds. The bird that had been chasing her screamed in frustration. The lightning struck it and ignited the plumage on its chest. The flock behind it also let out agitated shrieks. The lightning must have struck them, too.

Fiona suspected something. The lightning was as golden as the gryphon’s claws. Could it be magic? And griffins themselves are widely regarded as magical birds. Fortune is said to smile on whoever sees one, at least from a distance. Fiona, on the other hand, has only grinned at the grim tragedy. Apparently she is a rare loser.

The gryphon broke away from the chase and began to descend. A green plain appeared below. Now he would land and feast. On Fiona’s flesh and bones! He wondered if there would even be bones left of her when he was sated. Though why bother? She hasn’t any kin who’d look for her. If she goes missing, no one will even notice. Except the farm boys who liked her would miss her. And it is not for long. After all, there were plenty of pretty girls in the village.

The valley below was not strewn with skeletons left over from the griffins’ meals, but Fiona was still worried. The gryphon carried her over the plain, the woods, and the marshy lowlands where the reeds rippled. The land approached menacingly. Now the gryphon would wire its prey over the great boulders. Fiona squinted in fear. Suddenly the claws around her waist loosened.

The gryphon threw her down onto a rough, moss-covered mound like a thick carpet. Fiona fumbled for the stones beneath her – these were steps! They were scratched and old. They looked like the carcass of a ladder.

Fiona looked around. Gryphon had carried her into the ruins. He had disappeared somewhere. She hadn’t even heard him fly away. The clapping of its enormous wings was like the sound of a whip. She could not help but hear them.

«She is one of ours! She’s definitely one of ours!» The voices echoed from everywhere, but who had said so?

Fiona looked around.

«She is one of us! She was just lost!» The echoes in the ruins sounded like recitatives or prayerful chants. It was as if witchcraft had been wrought in the place. Echoes of laughter and hymns to the darkness were heard.

It was getting dark. Fiona struggled to her feet and walked a little. Her whole body ached. Scratches and abrasions could not be counted. Yes, the griffins had taken their toll on her. She really did feel like a big rag doll, played with and discarded. Right on the road! Or rather, it was in the ruins.

Even to be in the ruins is dangerous. Everything here is fragile, already partially destroyed and ready to collapse again. The remains of walls and towers reminded her of the castles of feudal lords. Apparently it had once been a castle, but now there was moss between the stones. The ruins of the walls themselves were gnarled and crooked. What had happened here? Was it a earthquake or a war? Could cannons and battering ram have done such damage? In the village, they’d say witches and fairies had had a hand in it. But the village was so far away that no locals would get here. The ruins were in a deserted area.

«Don’t worry, they won’t get in here!»

Fiona turned around at the voice. Something motley was looming in the shadows of the ruins. The figure of a jester! What was the jester doing in the ruins of the castle? Is he a remnant of the old masters? The castle had been destroyed, the owners slaughtered, and somehow the jester survived. He must be a friend of the fairies, if that’s what happened. He has the face of an inhuman, like an elf or a nix. His cheekbones are pointed, and so are his ears. Silver bells were dangling from the horns of a jester’s cap.

«Who are you?» Fiona moved toward him and found that there were already several jester figures on the ruins. They were multiplying, like reflections in shards of mirror.

Was this a mockery or some kind of trick? Everywhere Fiona went, all she found was a void instead of a jester. And the jester figures themselves were already multiplying in other places: on the walls, on the carcasses of towers, on the scratched staircases. In general, it was away from her.

«I don’t like jokes!» Fiona pouted angrily, stomping her foot. «If that’s the way you are, I’m going.»

Her stomping caused the ground to sink in, creating a hole. Inside the hole something sparkled enticingly. It looked like a jar of gold pieces! Was it a fairy joke? Fiona was afraid to bend down and check. It might be some kind of trap.

But a clear voice commanded:

«Take it now that you’ve found it!»

What was she to do? Fiona opened the hole with her bare hands and pulled out a pile of gold coins mixed with colored stones and jewelry. It looked like real gems! What luck! And there’s no one to thank. The jester figures had all disappeared, as if they had never existed.

Fiona was intrigued by one pendant in the shape of a sickle. It was certainly gold. A peasant girl would draw unnecessary attention to herself if she wore it around her neck, but Fiona couldn’t resist. The thing drew her like a magnet. She hated to part with the pendant now. Pity the chain was too short to hide it behind her corsage. The glitter of gold on a deserted road can only attract burglars.

«You’d be better off hiding in the ruins. No one will find you there,» the voices whispered in chorus. But since the voices were out of sight, Fiona decided they were not to be trusted. She could not trust the voices! To be alone in the ruins was frightening. She wondered if there were bandits nesting there at night. The jester costumes might be a good disguise for them. There’s a reason there’s gold hidden here. It could only come from the old owners of the castle or from the bandits who buried the treasure. But it was buried too shallow. But who knows, maybe if one dug a little deeper, one might find an entire gold mine under the ruins.

It was time to get out of here. The ruins stretched like a labyrinth. It took some time to find the way out of them. They were not too far from the road, as it turned out. If you look at them more closely, the ruins resembled a spiral with many twisted staircases, leading into the void and ending, as if they had been built on purpose into the sky. How convenient for those who want to land on the ruins from above. For the birds!

She shouldn’t have turned around before she left. Fiona noticed the brightly colored robes and bells again. There was a jester standing by the ruins, and in the ruins themselves there were many figures in motley jester outfits: both male and female. Are there women jesters and what are they called? If the jester’s outfit is the same cut as these, they could also be mistaken for colombina. She was not in the legendary Sickle of Mockingbirds, was she? It’s not in ruins, but in a closed ring of mountain ridge, and the way there can be found only at the full moon, and not everyone, but only those who are attracted to the spirits.

Motley figures soared over the ruins like a flock of colorful ghosts. How silent they were! They were bright but ominous. It was time to run away from here. No one tried to detain or catch Fiona. Only an echo of many voices echoed everything in her wake:

«She is lost!»

It was not until morning that she reached the road that led past the mountains to familiar places. Fiona was tired and out of breath. Her disheveled red hair was like flaming yarn, tangled with twigs and dry leaves. Her dress was torn, her skin scratched by bird claws. She looks like a beggar! But she had a pile of real gold coins with her! Fiona didn’t even know what she was going to spend them on. She had to put the coins in her pockets and throw the pile away. Carrying it was inconvenient.

At night Fiona snoozed by the side of the road and had a dream. The jester’s spirit assured her that the sickle around her neck and the month were almost the same thing, that it would always lead her to buried treasure. With the money she finds, she can buy an entire estate, not just a new mill or farm. And if she keeps looking for treasure, she could become queen herself.

«There is so much treasure hidden in the earth! Only spirits can see them, but they can’t use them, and you can! You have a special gift! We need you! But many others, alas, need you too!» The jester whispered. His face had a chalky hue, but his features were beautiful. It was only the laughing, snide eyes that spoiled the whole impression. They made it seem like he was mocking her.

The dream did not last long. Waking up, Fiona set off again. The road was dark, but she walked at random. Strangely, the pendant around her neck glowed like a yellow fire, helping her to navigate. Did gold have the property of glowing in pitch-black darkness?

They say that in the big cities at night they fasten torches in brackets on the walls so that the noblemen can walk in peace. But on the country road at night, you can’t see anything further. You can’t see further than your nose. So Fiona didn’t walk at night. This was an exception, and it was only the fault of the griffin that had led her nowhere. Fortunately, at least the direction in which to go, she guessed correctly, or else she would go to another village or even in another country.

Seeing the luxurious carriage left by the mountains with no servants, no coachman, and even no horses, Fiona was wary. She even rubbed her eyes, just in case. The carriage had not disappeared. So she had not imagined it!

Such fancy carriages she had only seen from afar. And here she could even touch it. Coats of arms gleam on the sides and top of the carriage. The frames of the doors and windows are gilded. The velvet curtains are purple to match the velvet upholstery of the carriage. On the fenders and inside the carriage were piled sacks of costly fabrics, or… Fiona was dumbfounded. Corpses! They were corpses! Brutally mutilated and even dismembered. From a distance they looked like large rag dolls, covered in red paint. Horse carcasses were lying in the mud on the road near the carriage. The human remains, judging by their clothing, belonged to noble and wealthy gentlemen, as well as their groomsmen.

One corpse appeared to be female. It was a girl. She was a redhead just like Fiona herself. Only, unlike Fiona, she was dressed in an expensive velvet gown. She could not be mistaken for a peasant girl. She was an aristocrat. Only her high position did not save her. Someone had strung her up like a puppet, placing her palms on sharp staples on the ceiling of the carriage. Her dainty hands were torn in places where there appeared to be jewelry. Her fingers were missing. They must have had rings on them, which could only be removed with the fingers themselves at the same time. If they were torn off by birds, those birds have the instincts of magpies. Except the magpies weren’t so big and their claws weren’t sharp enough to disfigure a corpse like that. It looked like it had been run through a grater. The eyes had been pecked out of the pretty maiden’s head. A necklace of scratches was left on her neck. There was a mark on her forehead, placed by a bird’s paw. Apparently it had been played with, too. The victim had simply been blinded.