Zagpeace also noticed Nik’s embarrassment and looked very pleased:
“The tricks of the unclean ones and at the same time the excellent command of academic technique – all this makes you one of the best!”
(Oh, how you sing like a nightingale, Peace, just to throw my boy under the feet of the crowd and make money on him!)
“Nik, and if you want, you will not only train warriors, but also enter the Arena again. I’ll arrange profitable fights for you.”
And Kors, realizing for a long time that all this heartfelt conversation was started by Zagpeace only for this, clenched his fists angrily.
Nik was confused:
“Uh-uh…”
“A good warrior has many privileges. Regardless of your background, I will introduce you to the world of true blacks. You will be invited to fight at holidays, at private receptions with the most influential people. There are many connoisseurs of martial arts in the Upper. Fights are held not only in the Coliseum, but also at private meetings for the elite. And no scenarios, everything is honest! You will be treated well. As a free person, you can easily go to any store and restaurant. You didn’t have this before, because your patron was the fallen prince Arel, and from his name alone the stench went throughout the Upper City. And still, Dim Al risked his reputation and was friends with the disgraced prince, only to get his warriors even for a couple of fights. A few years ago, Ram Murh became the best fighter of the year. Nothing will prevent you from achieving this, the main thing is desire. Nik, you were accepted in the Upper as a warrior. And now I and many others accept you, no matter what.”
“Tol was fighting fairly.”
“And you will fight fairly as well! I promise you!”
“Peace, I take illegal substances.”
“I know. You’re a good guy, you said it yourself, but I already knew it. It doesn’t scare me. I know how to get you off them to the maximum and make it easier to stand the withdrawal. I told this to your father, offered my help, he refused.”
(Come on, come on, Peace, try it, let him throw a tantrum at you, throw a boot at you, or better something heavier, and run to his unclean ones to get drunk and play cards! You are a complete idiot! You don’t know anything about Nik!)
“I stimulate myself strongly in order to have a faster reaction, speed, power of impact, I’m not such a good warrior without stimulants,” Nik said carefully, trying not to continue the previous topic.
“You think my warriors don’t do that? This is what all professional warriors do.”
“But Dim had troubles.”
“Because of his fraudulent schemes, not because of you. Everything is fine. Everything that concerns you, any problems with illegal substances – Dim could always blame that on the disgraced Prince Arel, because you were his warrior and carried out his orders. You were just a warrior invited to a couple of fights, any true black can offer his warriors for fights in the Coliseum. Prince Arel exposed you and the warrior girl Berta. The public liked you, you fought well and even reached the final, this is not a violation. So there are no claims against Dim, and he didn’t know anything about the substances, Prince Arel violated the law by hiding this information. Therefore, under any circumstances, he remains to blame.”
“You always have Arel to blame…”
Zagpeace ignored him.
“Nick, you’re still young enough to change. In a couple of years you will not recognize yourself and will remember your current life as a bad dream.”
But judging by Nik’s expression, he clearly did not share Zagpeace’s optimism:
“I’m a criminal. You yourself said that I was a swindler, an extortionist and a murderer, I remember your hard attack after my father brought me to you and sat me at the table,” and Nik made such a capriciously displeased face that Kors heard Zagpeace at that moment think: “Noble blood flows in him, no commoner can express his discontent so arrogantly. Daring, he doesn’t repent of his deeds, dared to remind me of this. No matter how hard Kors pushed him, he didn’t break him, that’s very good.”
“Nik, don’t be so naive, at that moment I didn’t put pressure on you, but on Vitor Kors, trying to reason with him so that he would interrupt your unnatural connection. It was then that I realized that you were not in captivity of your own free will, and I changed my mind about you, began to help you. Isn’t it so?”
“Yes, thank you. I owe you a lot.”
(What the… you don’t owe him anything! He’s a liar and a hypocrite, look no further!)
“As a slave, you were simply following your master’s orders. The master is responsible for the slave.”
“So it’s not so bad to be a slave, there’s no responsibility.”
“No, it is bad. And soon you will understand this, when you get all the privileges of a free man.”
“What about Leonardo?”
“We’ll deal with him, don’t worry. I will restore justice in everything and everywhere! This is the purpose of my life – to create a world in which order and control will prevail! Not for your own benefit, but for the sake of truth and justice! In the name of our forefathers the Holy Fathers!”
Nik involuntarily shuddered, but Zagpeace, inspired by his speech, didn’t notice this. His eyes lit up with a fanatical brilliance, it seemed that he was already looking at a bright future in which righteous prosperity reigns. Finally, having calmed down a bit, Zagpeace returned to his conversation with Nik and said in a more casual tone:
“But now we are talking about your fate. Nik, I took all the risks when I decided to take you, and it's going to be a fair fight. I swear! You will fight honestly.”
“My father won’t like it, he is against me fighting for the amusement of the audience.”
“What difference does it make what he wants and what he doesn’t? You are now a free man. Your life belongs to you. Think about it, do you want it? Your desire is more important.”
“I liked to fight in the arena, but if my father doesn’t want it, I won’t do it again,” Nik fell silent, thinking a little, but then, as if recollecting himself, stubbornly shook his head in a negative gesture, “No, I won’t do it again!”
“Nik, this is your life, not his!”
Kors couldn’t hear it anymore.
(He’ll talk him into it now! Because Nik is thoughtless and really likes to fight. It’s time to stop this and intervene as quickly as possible!)
He could no longer remain on the sidelines, and as a father, he had to immediately stop these vile conversations. Kors tried to jump up, but his head was spinning, his eyes darkened. He thought he was about to lose consciousness. He no longer saw or heard Nik or Zagpeace, but suddenly a completely different voice sounded very clearly in his ears. The voice of the late Kamiel Varakh.
Chapter 17
Kors froze. He no longer tried to jump up from his seat and run to the hunting lounge to save his Nik, even forgetting about him for a moment, because he “heard” the voice of his former friend Kamiel Varakh so clearly, as if he was standing behind him, just in the noise holiday, approached imperceptibly, and if Kors turns around, he will see him.
“I don’t know the details,” Varakh said. “Nikto, commander of the unclean ones, exchanged Digmer and, it seems, two other red warriors for a kid who knows how to make gunpowder. Atley Alis ransomed this boy from the unclean ones,” Varakh’s speech was confident, and his voice was not as weak as Kors remembered it from their last meeting.
“WHAT?! What the nonsense?!” Kors didn’t understand anything and suddenly with his inner vision “saw” a room, a hospital ward. But this was not a ward in doctor Cassiel’s infirmary. Everything is different, and there are no red flowers on the windowsill, and bright blue sky shines outside the window. It is too bright, and Kors will never forget the first time he saw the same blue sky above his head, because that day for the first time he saw not only this bottomless sky, but also his Inness. And her eyes, the same blue, argued with this sky, which of them was brighter. Does Kors see the Upper World now? But this cannot be! And Kamiel Varakh looks different, he is not lying, but sitting on the bed. Yes, he is clearly emaciated, but he is no longer the living corpse he once was. Kamiel has gained weight, and his eyes sparkle cheerfully, and patches of painful blush were blooming on his cheekbones.
Before him stands a red warrior:
“Are you saying that you traded Digmer and two of our soldiers for some unclean person who can make gunpowder? I can't believe my ears! How can this be?!You are lying!”
“I didn’t make this decision,” Varakh calmly answers, not at all afraid of his harsh tone, “this order was given by Atley Alis. And this boy Marcus wasn’t an unclean one. He is a man, and he was in bondage to the unclean ones. Atley Alis… Sigmer bought him out in this way.”
“One black for three reds?!”
“Yes. But he knew how to make gunpowder…”
“Kamiel Varakh, Digmer’s life in exchange for yours! If Digmer is not returned to us now, I will personally order your execution! Don’t look at the fact that we cured you and saved you from death. We didn’t do this for you, but for Digmer. And if the exchange doesn’t take place, believe me, a terrible end awaits you. And your title won’t help you. Pray to your gods that Digmer is still alive! Tell me, who can I contact to arrange a prisoner exchange? Think carefully, your life depends on this person!”
“This man is the true black Zagpeace Gezaria,” Varakh replies without a moment’s hesitation. “He will help me!”
“Damn, what’s going on?!”
Kors is completely confused! And for some reason he was offended that Varakh named Zagpeace, and not him. The picture in his head changes abruptly and he “sees” Fort. Everything around is on fire, black smoke covers the sky. “Did this happen after they left?” Kors is trying to sort out the chaos of his visions and rewind the events back to the starting point in order to understand how it all began.
Fort, a little earlier, doctor Cassiel’s infirmary. Near the chamber where the red captive of Zagpeace lies, Cassiel and Zagpeace himself are standing.
“Sir Vitor Kors is coming here,” the doctor says nervously and quickly, looking out the window.
“And what the hell does he want here at a time like this?” Kors sees that Zagpeace is very unhappy.
“Something must have happened to his white half-blood again,” the doctor replies.
“He either beats him half to death, then treats him with no less enthusiasm. Damn, what a bad time!” Zagpeace says irritably.
(Kors can’t believe his ears. Ah, so it turns out they were talking about him behind his back. “Beats him half to death!” Are you out of your mind, Zagpeace?!Making me look like an inconsistent and cruel jerk?!Well, we will see you later! )
“What should I do, sir Gezaria?”
“Don’t let him in!”
Cassiel’s face stretches and turns pale before his eyes.
“It won’t work to keep him out, I don’t have the right,” the doctor babbles, “but I can quickly give him medicine for his lover, and maybe he will leave without noticing you?”
“That’s the last thing to think of! I’m not going to hide from him!”
There is a loud knock on the door, and now Kors realizes that he himself is banging on it.
“Gods, why knock like that in the middle of the night,” Cassiel is literally shaking, “this one is his… Nik, he takes Black water, I hope he didn’t die… otherwise I’m finished…”
(You are both finished, I will recall everything!)
Kors sees Zagpeace hurriedly up to the second floor and enters Varakh’ room. He quickly tells him:
“If Kors comes in here, play dead. It will be calmer for everyone, otherwise we will never get rid of this annoying idiot! He pokes his nose everywhere and spoils everything!”
(What?! Varakh! Friend! You went for it?! Listened to Zagpeace? How could you do it?!)
Zagpeace barely has time to cover Varakh with a sheet when Kors bursts into the room. How badly he looks! Thin, in expensive clothes, but dressed untidy, somehow dirty, hair pulled back in a ponytail, wild eyes, look of a madman. Seeing Zagpeace in the room, Kors freezes on the threshold, stunned:
“What… what are you doing here!?”
“What about you, Kors?” a question for a question, Zagpeace answers, and, unlike Kors, he is completely calm.
“I have come to my friend!” Kors glances at the bed and sees that it is suspiciously strangely made up with a white sheet, under which the outlines of an emaciated body are vaguely guessed. The face of Kors is full of bewilderment.
(Oh! And I scolded Nik for the fact that all his emotions are reflected on his face! I am no better himself!)
“Really? To a friend? Friends are not attacked with a sword!” Zagpeace replies harshly.
“He drew his sword first!” Kors screams.
“I know perfectly well what happened between you. Before that, you hit him with your fist several times, like a commoner, humiliating him.”
“He insulted my son!”
“Because you yourself have created fertile ground for this! You left your son as a slave and kept him among the inferiors.”
“It doesn’t concern you! I didn’t come to talk to you!”
“Well, you’re late!”
Kors looks back at the bed.
“What’s up with him?”
“Kamiel Varakh passed away to another world a quarter of an hour ago,” Zagpeace replies.
(Sneaky liar!)
“No!” Kors rushes to the bed and rips off the sheet. “No!”
Varakh lies with his eyes closed and doesn’t breathe. Zagpeace comes up to them and rudely pulls the sheet from Kors’ hands, hastily covering Varakh with it.
“Leave!” He says to the stunned Kors.
“No, let me say goodbye to him!”
(“Gods, what a fool I am!” Now Kors is literally ready to tear his hair out of anger at himself.)
“You will say goodbye to him in the Black City.”
Kors covers his face with his hands, and Zagpeace looks at him intently. He sees that Kors is really upset by the death of a friend. For a moment, Zagpeace’s face softens, but only until Kors removes his hands from his face.
“Go away, Kors. And what are you doing here at a time like this?” Zagpeace recollects himself, becoming harsh again. “Why do you need a doctor? Why did you come to Camiel?”
“That’s none of your business!”
“You were here not so long ago, brought Nik, went to Varakh. Before that, you were not interested in him, but then you suddenly started coming here more frequently. This is very suspicious!”
“What the shit are you talking about?”
“Didn’t your attention make him feel worse? Kamiel Varakh was well treated, and now, as soon as you appear, he suddenly dies. Did you come to see if your plan worked? What did you give him to drink or inject him?”
“Are you out of your mind, Zagpeace?” Kors backs cowardly towards the door.
(What a disgrace! What a shame!)
“How did you know he was dead? Did you come to check it? What have you done with Varakh?!”
“I? I didn’t know he was dead!”
“Then why are you here now? This is very suspicious, Kors! Answer me! This is no longer a special case, but a serious matter. The true black is dead. You must obey me! Answer my questions! Let’s go out and you’ll tell me everything now! Not here, let’s not offend the memory of the deceased with your vile revelations. Let’s go out!”
“Go to hell!”
Kors hurriedly rushes out of the room.
And now he “sees” how Kamiel Varakh throws off the “veil of the dead”, sits on the bed, and he and Zagpeace begin to laugh.
And from this, such a simple and understandable scene, tears of bitterness and anger involuntarily appear in Kors’ eyes. But he sincerely was worried! He was upset by the untimely death of his friend, he blamed himself for his death!
“How could you do it?! How could you do this to me?!What have I done to you!? What?!” Kors nevertheless tried, as far as possible, to abstract himself from the overwhelming emotions. He will take revenge on them, but later. For sure. And now he needs to understand this tangle of lies to the end.
Still the infirmary, and again all the same actors. But Zagpeace and doctor Cassiel, just in case, shifted Varakh to another ward.
(Look at them! Fucking conspirators! Damn, if I only wanted to, I could find Varakh in a minute!)
Varakh lies on the bed:
“Leave me,” he says to Zagpeace and the doctor standing in front of him, “it will be better for everyone. I won’t stand the road.”
But Zagpeace doubts:
“You will ride in my big carriage, it is comfortable. I will order more mattresses and poofs to be laid.”
“I can’t stand it, leave me, please,” Varakh repeats in monosyllables, and Kors sees and understands now that he is very bad. Varakh gets it, and if he didn’t die when he and Zagpeace staged this vile farce for Kors, then he will die very soon, in one or two days, no more.
“I don’t need any treatment. I’m tired of rotting alive. I want to die,” says Varakh.
“No, you can handle it, you’ll get better!” Zagpeace assures him, but there is only feigned confidence in his voice. He himself sees everything perfectly, throws an inquiring glance at doctor Cassiel, and he, realizing that some kind of verdict is expected from him, carefully answers:
“Any push or shaking on the road can be fatal for sir Kamiel Varah, he needs composure… and… time.”
“Leave me to the will of the gods. If I’m destined to get out, if not, so be it!” Varakh hoots.
“You’ll get better. You will get stronger. I’ll be back for you!” Zagpeace assures him as cheerfully as possible.
“Alright, Peace, friend…”
“I will leave all the necessary medicines, the orderly will take care of everything,” Cassiel says.
“Thanks for all. Cassiel, you keep me among the living for too long and don’t let me go to the Gods…”
Having left Varakh in the hospital, Zagpeace and the doctor go away with the entire black army.
And Kors “sees” how a Portal opens in the basement of the deserted Fort, and a small armed detachment of red warriors breaks into the room. They break open the doors and quickly search room after room, finding neither expensive furniture, nor paintings, nor clocks, none of all the good things that they cleverly hid here thanks to Digmer’s patronage.
“Where are all of ours? Where is Digmer?”
“Where are the golden goblets? Clock?!”
Red warriors rush in fury through the empty rooms of the Crimson Rock:
“There’s nothing here, Commander! They have take neverything! Everything! Even animals from the menagerie! Only in the infirmary they left a few seriously wounded and an orderly to look after them. That’s all they left us!”
“We’re going back to Horn. Digmer, apparently, died. And burn everything here! Burn everything!” Their commander gives the order with undisguised anger, and the Reds begin to set fire to the torches soaked in resin.
“May I report?” One of the warriors suddenly says cautiously. He seems to have doubts, but he still dares to say:
“I was in the infirmary and saw these wounded, one of them… he is tall, and he has a braid to his waist. He is a true black, I'm pretty sure of it. And he might know where Digmer is!”
“Are you saying they abandoned their officer like this?”
“Yes… but these are blacks… cave rats without honor.”
Red warriors, led by their commander, burst into the infirmary. They find Varakh there, and, despite his depressing look, the commander of the detachment doesn’t doubt for a second that he is indeed a noble black. Delighted by such a find, he leans over the dying man, smiling predatorily and showing his animal sharply filed teeth:
“Who are you? What’s your name? Are you a true black? Are you a commander?”
“Yes. My name is Kamiel Varakh,” Varakh answers indifferently and even with some relief. He folds his palms in a prayerful gesture, “Gods, will I die by the sword? Thank you for this grace!”
“True black, where is Digmer? Answer! Is he alive?”
“He is with the unclean ones.”
“What?!”
“He is in slavery for the unclean ones.”
“Take him, he will help us find Digmer!” The commander quickly orders, and his warriors shift Varakh onto a stretcher. He doesn’t resist and seems to be losing consciousness from the pain.
The Reds set fire to the Fort, and, taking Varakh, go to the Horn through the Portal. And the few remaining inhabitants of the fortress, abandoned by them to the mercy of fate, rush about among the burning buildings, choking on smoke.
From the Crimson Rock, only black charred stones remain.
Kors jumped up from his seat in the hall. Drunken Arel followed him with a dull look, and then, putting his folded hands on the table, dropped his noble head on them, passing out.
And Kors burst into the living room with dusty stuffed animals. Zagpeace and Nik were still standing there, and Zagpeace, turning to Nik, was saying something to him.
“Varakh is alive!” Kors yelled without any preamble, rudely interrupting their conversation.
And Zagpeace turned around in surprise.
“Kamiel is alive! You abandoned him at the Fort, you bastard!” Kors was shaking with rage, and he looked at Zagpeace with undisguised hatred.
“Kors, I don’t understand you,” Zagpeace said, trying to keep his composure. “I don’t understand, are you accusing me of something now?”
“Yes, you liar!”
“What have you said?”
Kors watched as Zagpeace’s face slowly faded from the feigned calm that he was able to maintain at the moment only by virtue of a habit trained over years.
“Varakh is alive!”
“It doesn’t concern you, disgraced black,” Zagpeace said harshly, “I won’t even talk to you. This is below my dignity! You are dirt!” And the embittered harshness of these words didn’t match the indifferent expression of his face, betraying true emotions.
“You’re a vile liar!” Kors, in his fury, seemed not to hear the insults. “How could you do that?!”
“Vitor Kors, you have long ago let the last shreds of your reputation go astray! I’m not going to explain anything to you, let alone make excuses! I won’t even talk to you anymore!” Zagpeace finally shouted, unable to stand it and completely discarding decency and memorized pose.
“You left him alone! Do you know where he is now by your grace?! Peace, you will answer for this!”
“Vitor, go upstairs!” Nik intervened.
But Kors tried to pounce on Zagpeace:
“I’ll kill you!” He drew his sword.
Nik quickly rushed to him, standing between them, and, looking straight at Kors, slowly said:
“Go. Up. Immediately! I said get out!” And his voice was terrible. It’s good that he stood with his back to Zagpeace, and he didn’t see his changed face and eyes. Kors lowered his weapon hand. He was shaking, but in obedience to the order he bowed his head, and, turning away from them, went to the stairs and began to climb it on unbending legs.
Zagpeace seemed taken aback himself – both from the voice of Nik, a minute ago so sweet and like a girl, and from the fact that Kors obeyed his son. He looked at Nik somehow differently:
“You don’t have to be so rude to your father. Whatever he is, he is your father,” he remarked. “Yes, Kors treated you harshly, I understand, but don’t descend to his level.”
“Descend? Fuck, I will never rise to his level! He’s the master!” Nik snapped sharply, and his lips twisted into an evil and bad grin.
Peace recoiled from him:
“What you sow, you will reap,” he whispered.
“Let’s talk in the city, okay? If you still want,” and Nik, as quickly as he could, began to climb the stairs after Kors.
And Zagpeace remained standing:
“Did Varakh tell me the truth?” he seemed to ask himself and looked in confusion at the white cardboard rectangle left lying on the table. Zagpeace reached out to it, obviously intending to take back the business card, but his hand froze. For a moment he hesitated, thinking. Finally, as if with some effort, he withdrew his fingers and without taking the pass, he quickly left the living room.
Seeing Nik coming into their room, Kors hurriedly tossed away his freshly lit cigarette and shied away. His doll-like boy’s face didn’t bode well, and Kors, in some mad attempt to delay the inevitable, rushed to the bathroom and locked himself in. An absurd thought was pounding in his head that maybe Nik could calm down a little later, cool down, as usual, and everything would work out. The main thing is to take the time. Therefore, Kors locked the door and quickly moved a nightstand and a closet to it, barricading himself in this way. But alas, his plan didn’t work. The door flew off its hinges with a crash from the impact of superhuman force, the bedside table and whatnot flew off with a roar and fell to the floor, falling apart. Kors didn’t know where to run, finding himself in a small room, as if in a trap. Nik entered, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and threw him against the wall. Kors crashed into the closet, trying to cover his head and face with his hands. Glass vials rained down on him from the shelves, a tin box banged on the top of his head and opened to sprinkle toothpowder on him. Before Kors had time to recover, Nik grabbed him again and threw him against the opposite wall. Now Kors stumbled over the basket of towels, buckets and basins. The crashing sound was unimaginable. Nik approached again and threw him against the wall again. Bang! Bang! Bang! Kors slammed first into one wall, then into another, and so on in a circle, without a break, crashing into furnishings and involuntarily destroying everything around. Before he had time to get up and do anything, Nik was already grabbing him and smashing him again. Finally, Nik threw Kors to the floor and kicked him hard in the ribs and in the stomach several times. Grabbing the base of his disheveled tail, Nik threw back his head and punched him in the eye, jaw, and temple.
“Once again you dare not obey me the first time … the second time I will never repeat again,” Nik hissed, “this was the first and last time.”
“Sorry, sorry, it’s just this lie… Peace has deceived me, and Kamiel, he’s alive…” Kors muttered pathetically, trying to regain his breath.
“Yes, I don’t give a shit about it! You didn’t obey me!” Nik yelled at him.
“I was stunned by this deception!”
“Eh, everyone around deceives you! Didn’t you notice? Because you can’t see beyond your noble nose! You only know how to lift it up!”
“Yes, I was stupid when I didn’t watch the events right away and, believing Zagpeace, I thought that Varakh had died… and didn’t even try to check and listen to him…”
“And who is to blame for this?” Nik asked, stepping away from him.
“I, myself,” Kors sat on the floor of the ruined room, bowing his head in humiliation. He was beaten again, his beautiful face was smashed again, he was deceived again! Kors curled up into a ball, covering his face with his hands, and, unable to restrain himself, began to cry.
Chapter 18
Nik approached, and, lifting Kors from behind by the armpits. He was unresisting, limp as a sack of flour, and Nik dragged him into the room to their bed.
“Vitor, get up!”
Kors languidly got up, and Nik, seating him on the edge of the bed, began to unfasten the numerous belts and buckles on him, remove the weapon from Kors’belt – his sword and iron rod:
“Well, stop it, don’t cry, that’s all, that’s all, I won’t do it anymore,” he repeated, undressing Kors and doing it affectionately. Nik knelt down in front of his father and began to pull off his boots. Kors felt a little better. Sniffing, he wiped the tears from his eyes with his palm.
“Lie down. You need to calm down and rest,” Nik said, rising from his knees and pressing Kors on the shoulders, laying him on his side.
“Just don’t put me to sleep, please!” Kors was scared. He really didn’t like it when the Demon, without warning, deprived him of control over consciousness, throwing him into oblivion.
“Okay, I won’t,” Nik walked around the bed and also began to undress: he took off his weapon, jacket and boots and lay down on the other side. He just lay on his back, not moving, staring up at the ceiling while Kors stared at his face. He looked at his chain hanging from his cheek, at two well-marked holes in the nostril left from thick rings, looked at the black tattoos on his cheekbones, slightly faded from time, and understood that, no matter what the circumstances, he would never be able to stop loving his Nik. His Demon – Nikto.
“Come on, Vitor, I have asked you,” Nik said without changing his position and continuing to look at the ceiling. “Calm down, read your poem in your head, as you usually do.”
“So you can hear it?” Kors felt as if Nik had taken him by surprise for something very personal.
“Well, of course,” Nik smiled slightly, “you thought it up great.”
“Oh, Nik, there is nothing good in this – stupidly repeating the same thing, just to not think about the bad. And you know, I don’t even like it!”
“You don’t like it? But why? It is beautiful as well.”
“Eh, that’s just the first thing that came to mind! These states, when it seems that everything is very bad and will only get worse, they haunt me. They literally suck me out. It’s like I’m being crushed by a gravestone, and I can’t breathe, I can’t move. It started the first time I was in your Limit. Or rather, it happened before, but not so often and not as strong. Feelings of panic, fear, hopelessness.”
“Vitor, you got back back when you lost your Inness, don't drag my Limit in here.”
“But in the Limit, everything somehow manifested itself and intensified. I don’t know how to explain it to you…”
“Damn, you were already crazy, so your geese flew to my Limit.”
“But when there are so many thoughts in your head, and you can’t stop thinking, you can’t calm down …
“I understand, I understand,” Nik interrupted him, noticing that Kors was starting to get more and more nervous. “It’s just that you dig under yourself without measure, that’s what drives you mad.”
“What?”
“Hmm … you think too much, digging into every little thing.”
“I stopped hearing your conversation with Zagpeace when I “saw” the events related to Varakh. Tell me what else did Peace say to you?”
“Well, you’re digging again…”
“Did he offer you anything else?”
“No.”
“Did you agree to be his warrior?” Kors’ voice was treacherously twitchy.
“No! Of course not!”
“Then what were you talking about?”
“Oh! In fact, nothing. He asked about this series of blows that the unclean ones often use in battle, the black warriors called it “nine attacks”. Then he asked to train his mercenaries. I explained that people misunderstand everything a little, and there are no nine attacks in a row in this bundle. So, probably, it may seem to people because of the speed with which the unclean do it. But in fact, an attack is always followed by a defense, a counterattack, often each unclean one adds something of his own, this is for them an im… improvisation. It’s just that three such blocks in a row follow very quickly without pauses. In short, we discussed all sorts of technical issues, that’s all.”