Chapter 4

Step by step, step by step...thump-thump-thump-thump...

Ned's legs carried him further and further from the place where he had lived his entire life. After a few hours of fast walking, almost running, he came out of the area where he had been, where he had grazed the cows. He did not go along the main road - along it, on paths, and sometimes just on the grass. It was good that there was no rain - dry, clean, the sun was shining, the breeze was blowing - walking was a pleasure. The legs were working, and the head was thinking, comprehending.

Ned had no idea what he would do when he got to the city. Should he try to find Senerad? And what would that look like? He would walk through a crowd of people and ask, "Have you seen Senerad? Where can I find Senerad?" Stupid. Besides, why did he think that after killing ten villagers they would take him somewhere? They would discover the shepherd was missing in the evening and send a chase in the morning. Or maybe at night – Brank had money, so why not hire hunters? And that would be dangerous. Hunters were not country bumpkins. They had dogs, too, the ones that follow the trail. So he had to hurry. How many hours did he walk per hour? Four? Five? The least he could do was walk continuously, without stopping, for eight hours. He would get to the city just in time for the morning. Only Silanus had said that the city gates were closed at night. Where would he hang out all this time? And what if the hunters arrived? Questions, questions... but he still has nowhere to go. He has to go.

So, for the sake of safety, you need to cut off all contact with your previous life. No Senerad – your training is gone. All that remains are ships – as a sailor. Or a loader at the port. And what – he is strong, he is used to carrying sacks and rolling barrels. The main thing is not to get caught…

* * *

Ned shivered and crawled out from under the old longboat lying on the seashore by the city wall. Before he climbed in, he had prudently entered the water a li away from the city and walked through the shallows to the very city walls, hissing and cursing under his breath like a stevedore on a fish-salting barge - the pebbles pricked his feet, and in the darkness it was impossible to tell where he was stepping. The red moon had already set, and the black one - of course, gave no light.

In the light of the stars he saw the upside-down launch, rooted in the shore like a mossy stone, and finding a gap between its side and the coastal pebbles, he carefully pulled his long body under the vessel. Now he could rest. All night long without stopping he had been running, almost escaping pursuit.

Ned did not see his pursuers, they were somewhere far away, but he felt them, sensed them with his whole skin. They were definitely on the trail - or he did not know his fellow villagers.

His legs ached from the strain and his muscles felt like cotton wool. The strain wasn't too much for him, but... more than thirty li without rest or food, at night - that's no joke.

In the summer it was early light, so it would not be long before dawn came. And Ned fell asleep.

He was awakened by bright, hot rays breaking through the cracked boards of the launch. Arrows of sunlight hit his eyes, and Ned, willy-nilly, woke up, feeling terrible hunger - he had not eaten since yesterday. And what food was there anyway... just barely enough to satisfy his hunger.

Rustling the round white pebbles, Ned climbed out from under the launch and looked around. The sea shone before him – quiet, calm, beautiful, like the smile of God. The gates to the city were already open – from here, from the blank wall going into the sea, one could see how numerous carts were driving in and out and people were entering, waiting to be let in or let out. It was necessary to hurry to enter, to get lost among the crowd, otherwise the pursuers could grab him near the gates.

Ned pulled on his boots, wincing at the pain in his tired feet, splashed some sea water on his face to drive away the sleepiness, smoothed his hair, which had become thick as tow, and walked quickly to the gate.

Here a surprise awaited him. In a short time he became two coppers poorer. It turned out that there was a fee to enter the city. This greatly upset Ned. With his finances, he could not give away money at such a rate. He needed something to eat until he found a job and got out of Shusard.

The city greeted Ned with noise, shouts, the smell of burning coals from braziers and the rumble of iron-clad wagon wheels on cobblestone streets. People were scurrying everywhere – pushing the guy, cursing for standing in the way. Everyone was running somewhere, as if someone was stabbing them in the backside with an awl and lashing them with a leather whip.

After the quiet life of the village, it seemed to Ned that he had fallen into the hands of demons. The boy was confused, and a crowd of people hurrying somewhere picked him up, and like a stormy stream playing with pine chips, dragged him along the gate square, then pushed him onto the main street of the city, passing through its center. Only about ten minutes later he came to his senses, when he almost got under the wheels of a huge carriage with varnished black sides and a gold monogram on the side - the coachman, shouting and whistling, slapped his whip so hard that its tip flew dangerously close to Ned's cheek. After that, Ned came to his senses from his stupor, then, pushing passers-by with his shoulder, squeezed his way to a stall with pies, spreading the delicious smell of pechev throughout the area.

"What are the pies with?" he asked a dashing young man a little younger than himself, standing by the grill and turning over the ruddy pies on the grate.

- With liver! - he immediately responded - two copper pools apiece! Will you take them? Hot! Big ones! The liver is fresh, not rotten, I guarantee it!

Ned sadly estimated his cash reserves - at this rate he would be out of money in a couple of days, but there was nothing to be done - he was hungry. And a minute later he was already gobbling up a pie, washing it down with warm water from a wooden mug with bitten edges. It was good that the water was free, otherwise he would have been completely ruined. Having swallowed the pies in the blink of an eye, Ned asked:

- Listen, can you tell me how to get to the port?

- Do you want to get hired on a ship? - the guy figured, smiling knowingly - why not. They take everyone there. Just watch out, if you run into a slave trader - they'll quickly put a slave collar on you. They like to catch vagabonds. Actually, we are forbidden to turn citizens of the kingdom into slaves without a court decision, but... anything can happen. Then prove that you are not a slave, but a free citizen. By the way, are you from the Ards? Oh well, I don't care. People like you are not rare in our area. You are from a village, right? The villagers got it from the Ards during the raids. They don't like your kind very much. The Ards fucked everything that moved, that's why we have quite a few of their offspring left.

"So you'll tell me how to get to the port?" Ned began to get angry, trying to get at least a word in the talkative boy's stormy speech.

- How... you go along this street, it's called Royal Street, you reach the Dinas Temple, and turn right. You go to the end until you fall off the pier. That's the port! - the guy laughed and started shouting loudly, offering pies.

Ned stood there, digesting the information, and then moved on, where the guy had said.

Entering the city, Ned turned off his "ears", suspecting that he would not be able to stand the muttering of thoughts of so many people. Now, having moved away from the guy, he decided to try to listen to what the people around him were thinking. He turned on his "ears" and... almost passed out! He had never heard so many thoughts beating against his skull, even when he stood in the middle of a herd of one hundred and fifty cattle. The cows were just like that - they quietly mumbled simple thought phrases to themselves, concerning their simple desires - to eat, drink and all that, but the people, the people were something else! Their thoughts merged into a continuous roar, loud, in different tones, so continuous that it was difficult to distinguish individual words among these thoughts. Ned held out for about five minutes, and then, with relief, turned off his extrasensory hearing. The muttering immediately disappeared, and it seemed to him that the street had become completely quiet, so quiet as if he were standing not in the center of a busy city, but somewhere on a hill near the Black Ravine.

Remembering the village where he had suffered for seventeen years, Ned hurried, dodging passers-by and trying to get to his destination as quickly as possible. He had a feeling that at any moment he would hear the barking of dogs following his trail.

The port opened about twenty minutes later, when Ned was already beginning to doubt whether he was going in the right direction. The sea was not visible behind the tall buildings, especially since the street initially went uphill. However, the road soon turned sharply downwards, and through the gaps between the spreading mulberry trees the sea and ships appeared, moored at the piers and in the roadstead.

Ned skipped towards the docks, almost breaking into a run, and fifteen minutes later he reached the port square.

What was going on here! Crowds of porters were scurrying about, horses were straining to pull huge carts with sacks and barrels, peddlers were walking with snacks and drinks, sailors were waddling along, dressed in a variety of brightly colored clothes, and girls were flirting with them, dressed so openly and provocatively that in the village of Neda they would have been flogged with a whip long ago for such behavior.

Silanus told Ned about the cities, but it was one thing to listen and another to see it all with your own eyes.

Ned was a little confused again, and decided to stand aside for now and watch what was happening, to decide – where should he go? Before, everything seemed so simple – there is a ship – come up – offer your services. From the ship, joyfully – Yes! Yes! We need a sailor! Of course, climb on board! And Ned sailed to distant lands, wherever his eyes look…

The reality turned out to be more complicated. What if instead of a sailor's job he really gets a slave collar? How can he identify the ship he needs among these floating "houses"? By what signs?

Ned began to carefully examine the ships moored at the pier.

There was everything here - huge, pot-bellied merchant ships with three or even four masts, towering over the rest like mountains over green hills, nimble pearl-buying vessels, slender long-distance ships distinguished by their fast lines and suitable for both trade and military operations.

The ships were moored along the long pier, and the row of ships was lost somewhere around the bend of the port. But what Ned saw was enough to instill in him a reverent respect for what he saw. Ships, the coveted ships! How he wished these beauties would carry him away from his old life…

Ned sighed and concentrated on thinking about the suitability of the ship for his purposes. He decided for himself that a slaver's ship should have some distinguishing features, and most likely these will be those long-distance ships, capable of crossing the distance from continent to continent. After all, they need to sail faster, before the slaves die in the holds, existing in inhumane conditions.

According to an old slave, after such a ship docks, only seven out of ten slaves, captured somewhere in distant lands, get off. The rest die on the way from the poor conditions.

So, we need a merchant ship that carries cargo. Like that big guy, with three masts that draw the clouds.

Ned stood up, dragging his skinny duffel bag behind him, and walked toward the "merchant" standing about five hundred paces away. He passed a group of stevedores animatedly discussing something very important to them, past a small booth in which sat a man in uniform - the kind Ned had seen on people from the royal ships calling at the village, passed a flock of girls who cast an attentive glance at the guy, and suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. Then he backed up, reaching the booth with the man in uniform, stood next to it and looked intently at the pier where the "merchant" stood. Exactly! They. People from the village - three hunters and Brank.

Ned lowered his head, trying not to be recognized, took a step behind the booth and looked at the pier again. Brank was saying something to a short, fat man with an arrogant face, apparently the owner of the ship. He nodded his head, and Brank and the men accompanying him walked along the pier further, to the next ship.

Ned realized with annoyance what was happening. It was to be expected. Where would a fugitive run first? To the city, of course. And where in the city would he run to get out of these parts? To the port, or where the merchant caravans gathered. Ned was sure that Brank's men were walking around the caravanners now, warning them not to take the crazy killer who had escaped from their village.

Brank was approaching, and Ned turned his back to avoid him accidentally revealing the fugitive's location. With his back to the dock, he found himself face to face with the man in uniform.

- So, boy, do you want to enlist? - he asked cheerfully. - Our king needs strong guys! Come on, come on - you'll get two gold coins right away, and then - a gold coin a week! Plus food and uniform! You'll travel the world, see distant lands, fight for your king, punishing the enemies who dare to lay claim to the Masurian Islands! Marines - what could be more honorable, what could be cooler? You were a nobody! And you'll become a black demon, feared by all enemies! And we don't care if you have a tail of problems, or even crimes - by joining the army, you become part of our big family, and no one can offend you! You'll offend everyone yourself! Well, have you made up your mind? You just need to put your fingerprint here, drink a mug of "farewell" beer, and you're already a marine, the terror of the seas and shores! Agreed?

– Are you sure that no one will care where I'm from and who I am?

- It doesn't matter! - the recruiter exhaled joyfully. - What's your name?

"Ned…just Ned," the guy answered, confused.

- And your middle name?

- Ned….Black. Yeah – Black Ned.

- Good! Excellent! Let's write it down like this - "Ned the Black". Put your fingerprint here. Yeah, dip your finger. Sooooo... right here. Got it! Well done! Here, take a mug! Drink!

Ned sniffed the mug of malt-smelling liquid carefully and carefully poured its contents into himself. Beer, like beer… And then he decided to turn on his "ears." He winced slightly from the cacophony of thoughts that hit him, and with some difficulty he caught the thoughts of the recruiter. He looked at Ned with a grin and thought:

- I wonder how long this oaf can stand on his feet? The guy is strong, he can hold out for five minutes...we'll have to lock him in here for now and go get the corporal. Should I strain myself? The guy is young, but look how big and beefy he is. Bones weigh more than fat. And here's another gold bonus in my pocket. Not bad work this week. But not the best week this year...aha. It's begun!

Ned's vision suddenly went blurry and his legs refused to support him. He fell softly into the arms of the sergeant who had caught him, and looked at his face with glassy eyes, puzzled.

- Sorry, recruit, these are the rules - he said apologetically - we are supposed to knock you out until we lift you aboard the ship. Otherwise, what have you gotten into the habit of taking two gold coins and running away! And who will die for the health of our king? Who will fight if everyone runs away? Now you are ours. And your gold coins will not go anywhere, have no doubt! Everything will be fine. Here, I am putting them in your purse. Sleep, tomorrow you will wake up cheerful, as if you were born again. Already a soldier. And then - you will not have to sleep ... get some sleep now.

Ned's eyelids finally slammed shut and he lost consciousness.

* * *

"Oh! Our dead man has woken up!" The voice thundered in his ears, and Ned opened his eyes with difficulty, trying to understand where it was coming from. His head ached terribly, red and white spots were spinning before his eyes, and Ned could barely focus his eyes on what he was seeing.

A huge room. Just enormous. If you were to pack the entire population of the village of Cherny Ovrag in here, there would still be room left over. And there are people everywhere. Lying, walking, sitting, and mumbling, mumbling, mumbling…

Voices were flying from everywhere, swarming in the air, merging into a roar and a noise like the sound of sea waves. It took Ned a moment to realize that he was hearing both the thoughts and the living voices of men. Yes, everyone here was a man. Hundreds, maybe thousands of men.

He had to turn off the perception of other people's thoughts, otherwise it was simply impossible to distinguish thoughts from words, and Ned had no desire to give away his abilities. Why did he need extra trouble? He intended to pretend to be a simple guy for as long as possible, until he got far, far away, to a place where no one would ever get him. No - not to the next world. Ned categorically did not want to let himself be killed, and intended to hold out in this world as long as possible. And to see the death of his enemies. Well - that was the vow he made to himself. What enemies? Hmm ... Branka, probably. Why did he beat Ned, humiliate him? Who else? Those guys who wanted to cripple him ... however, they were punished anyway. There is no worse punishment than losing your mind, becoming a vegetable. Better death. Who else?

Ned still had no idea who his enemies were, and deciding to put off this important decision for later, he turned his attention to his neighbors.

The one who had been surprised by his awakening was sitting next to him, his legs crossed at the heels and his hands on his knees. His eyes were closed and he seemed to be praying.

"Hey, what are you doing? Are you sleeping or something?" Ned asked cautiously.

- Don't interfere. I'm gaining tsu power through my kankrs - the guy answered quietly, without opening his eyes or changing his body position.

- Where do you get this tsu from, and what kind of kankr are they? - Ned persisted. He was terribly curious about what was going on around him and Ned was going to find out everything in detail. He remembered recruiting for the army, remembered drinking beer from the recruiter's mug, remembered the recruiter telling him something... and then he remembered nothing. And he didn't understand where it was either. A house? A ship? Most likely a ship. He could hear the waves hitting the side and rocking it slightly. But it was strange - the rocking was weak. Are they standing still? Ned had been on small ships that came to their village. So they shook with every gust of wind, and here - it was as if this ship was tied up. So big that it wouldn't rock? Ned's breath caught when he imagined HOW big this ship must be.

- You redneck! - the boy answered grumpily. - You idiot! Don't you know that you can't interrupt a watsu master when he connects to the universe? Idiot!

- What, master?! - Ned didn't understand. - What are you making there? And for being an idiot you can actually get a punch in the forehead!

- From whom, from you, or what? - the guy grinned cheerfully - I have a tark in uatsu! You should have held your tongue before I ripped it out!

- Hey, don't bother with Oidar. He can really give you a beating, - the guy to the left of Ned, rummaging through his bag, said loudly, - he's already beaten two people's faces, and both at once. Uatsu is a kind of martial art. People learn it for years. And then they become invincible. They seem to gain tsu power from the space of the universe, and then put it into their body through holes, becoming invincible. I don't know what kind of holes they are or where, but they're called kankars, or something...

- Kankry, you fool! - snorted Oydar - but otherwise everything is correct.

"Why do you call everyone fools and idiots?" Ned was indignant. "Are you smart yourself?"

"Smarter than you, country bumpkins!" the guy answered contemptuously, and closed his eyes again.

"Don't mess with me," the neighbor whispered again, and Ned saw a smirk appear on Oydar's lips. "To hell with him. He's a bad guy, he'll hurt someone. A cheeky guy. He'll end badly, that's for sure."

- You'll end up badly! - Oydar flared up - now I'll knock your eyes out too, you thick-headed oaf!

- Listen, idiot - Ned said coldly - don't touch him! You're just like the rest of us, and don't act like you're some big deal! And I don't see a smart guy in front of me. In my opinion, you're an impudent blockhead. Dumb as a sheep. A smart person wouldn't rush at everyone and boast about his strength. Especially in front of strangers.

- You're a beast! - Oydar stood up, moving like a snake and hanging over Ned - Get up, you country bumpkin! I don't want to beat a man when he's down! But you need to be taught a lesson, you insolent peasant!

- Right now - Ned nodded his head, and deliberately groaned, he rose to his feet - just wait, I'll pump myself up with strength through the hole. I only have one, and it only comes out of it, but doesn't go in, but what if? There's a hole, and strength can fit into it! How do you do it there? Close your eyes and puff? That's what I want too. Strength.

Ha-ha-ha - suddenly there was laughter, Ned looked up and found dozens of guys and men standing around, curiously watching what was happening between Ned and the young impudent fellow. Apparently the interlocutors were talking very loudly, that's why the people around were interested. There was nothing else to do anyway, so why not take a look?

- Laugh at me?! - Oydar blushed and bit his lip from suppressed anger - Damned country bumpkin! And you, thick-headed! None of you could stand ten heartbeats in a fight with me! Let's fight, country bumpkin! I'll cripple you, creature, for mocking the master of uatsu!

"I wonder," Ned said thoughtfully, "why were you kicked out of the school of combat? Was it because you couldn't control your feelings?"

Oydar flinched, looked at Ned with wide eyes, and then…then attacked him. Instantly, mercilessly, striking at the most vulnerable and painful points. It seemed that he had decided not to stand on ceremony with the impudent country bumpkin. Or rather, Oydar wanted to stand on ceremony, wanted to strike, but…

Ned gently let his right hand with a furiously clenched fist pass by him, meeting it with a cat-like "paw" movement, instantly grabbed the guy by the neck, turning it along the axis and, dropping to his knee, bent it so that if he made another movement, Oydar's neck would crunch, break like a dry branch. And at the same time, the guy's right hand was blocked by Ned's right hand, and his head, with a bent neck, lay in the "hillbilly's" armpit.

Ned acted completely unconsciously, as he had done when he killed his fellow villagers. And only when there was a split second left before the moment when the dry crunch of vertebrae would be heard, Ned with difficulty took control of himself and stopped, looking at the crowd, greedily watching the fight.

After this complicated feint of Ned's, they began to make noise, giggle and point their fingers at the guys, who merged in a single impulse, like a loving couple. They began to whistle and say nasty things, joyfully slapping themselves on the thighs.

Ned looked at Oydar's tense, wide-eyed face and said clearly, looking back at the audience:

- They broke up. They broke up, I said! There's nothing interesting.

His voice was dry, harsh, and his eyes radiated such power that the people stopped and, talking quietly, began to disperse to their places. Ned looked at Oydar's face again, and said quietly:

- I'll let you go now, but promise that you won't insult anyone or behave so impudently again. Okay? Agreed?

Oydar shook his head slightly in agreement, and Ned laid him down gently on the floor next to his mattress. Then Ned lay back down in his place, staring at the ceiling, his hand behind his head, not paying attention to his neighbors.

He felt very strange after these events. Again - as if some force controlled his body. Apart from his will, apart from his consciousness. As if someone looked through his eyes, and took control of his body at the moment when it became necessary. And Ned really, really didn't like it. And who likes to feel like a spineless toy? Not someone who had been one for seventeen years straight.

- Hey, that's great! - the neighbor whispered. - My name is Arnot. Let's stick together? Where are you from? Well... you don't have to answer that, - he continued, slightly frightened. - We're all here for different reasons, and many of us don't want to give out our names and where we're from. What's your name?

- Ned - the guy answered reluctantly, and turning his head, he examined his interlocutor. He was an ordinary village guy, of which there are dozens and hundreds in any village. Calloused hands, strong shoulders, worn-out shoes and neatly darned clothes - an ordinary lad. What the hell is he doing here? And what is he, Ned, doing here? Listen to his thoughts? And why? What can he learn from him, or from these guys? Their dirty secrets? Their hidden desires? Why? What will it give? "An absolutely useless skill," Ned sighed quietly, "it would be better if he could conjure up some food for himself. He ate a long time ago, and only two pies."

As if responding to his thoughts, his stomach made such a loud rumble that it could probably be heard from side to side. Arnot chuckled at the sound and rustled the sack before handing Ned a piece of flatbread with a piece of smoked meat on it:

– Here, eat. Eat, eat – I still have some. They will feed us when we arrive at the infantry base, but for now we will have to make do with what we have. I stocked up on food on the shore in advance. My neighbor, a disabled soldier, told me everything that would happen, so I prepared well. The water is over there, in the tank. And the mug is there. But I don't advise drinking from the common mug. You never know where someone came from – you might catch an infection. My family died that way – my father brought an infection from somewhere, he was sailing with a merchant. We all got infected. My sister died, then my mother… my father… and I somehow survived. They say there was a plague. They burned the house, they burned the things. I was left naked. Don't be afraid – it was a long time ago. About five years ago. I wandered and wandered… I was a beggar… I worked… and then I decided – what do I have to lose? I will join the soldiers. Here they feed, clothe, and shoe you. Serve for five years and then have fun. You can make some capital. And you can also plunder a little - when we take other people's cities.

- And can you...what did your disabled neighbor lose? That's what he lost - a familiar voice rang out from the right, slightly hoarse after Ned had crushed the larynx of its owner.

"I lost my leg," Arnot answered reluctantly and turned away from Oydar.

- Yes, yes - Oydar nodded his head - we'll still be freaks, if we're even that. They'll bury us somewhere on the Masurian Islands, and worms will eat us. At least the invalid is alive...

"Then why did you join the soldiers?" Ned asked, swallowing the last piece of flatbread and carefully collecting the crumbs, throwing them into his mouth under the watchful gaze of Oydar, who winced at such an obvious manifestation of his village origins. "It's like you know everything – what lured you here?"

- Everyone has their own problems - Oydar explained reluctantly, and sighing, he decided - you were right when you said that all my problems are due to my lack of self-control. And don't smile like that, Arnot!

He hesitated for a minute and continued:

- Yes, I am a master of uatsu. They taught me almost from infancy. There is a good school in Shusard. My father always believed that I should be able to stand up for myself. He was a guard. Killed. Nobody knows who. Probably those he was bothering. I was walking home at night - they shot an arrow from a bow. Killed me instantly. I was ten years old then. After his death, everything went to hell... there was no money, we ate the last we had. My mother began to sew for the rich, but it was not enough. I was doing well at the martial arts school, I am capable. The master noticed this and allowed me to study for free when I told him that there was no more money for the school. And then - I began to help him train others. Everything would be fine... but my character... And add to it the ability to kill... They got to me themselves, themselves! - Oydar furiously hit his knee with his fist - I should have left, not answered, but I... In short, one died, and the other two will lie in bed for a long time. Everything would be fine, but the one who died was a relative of the mayor. And his friends were from the most respected families in the city. The guards investigating the case warned my mother that I should quickly run away - and I would not live to see the trial if they put me in prison. So here I am. Now - I am nobody. The army will not let anyone hurt me. The army itself will hurt me. Your name is Ned? Yeah. Tell me, Ned - Oydar looked closely at the guy - how did you manage to knock me out? What is the name of this fighting style? I have never met him in real life. And also - thank you.

"For what?" Ned raised his eyebrows in bewilderment.

- For not killing me, - Oydar sighed heavily, - I am a master after all, I know that I was a hair's breadth from death. You could have killed me with one movement of your hand. Bang! And that's it. The end. But you didn't. And I would have killed you. I wouldn't have been able to stand it. So - thank you.

- If I had killed you, they would have killed me, - Arnot said sullenly, - for the murder of a comrade, if it was not committed in defense of one's own life, or on the orders of a commander - death. They'll hang you, and that's it. Or beat you to death with sticks. It's quick here. For stealing from comrades - sticks. For disobeying an order - sticks. For everything - sticks, or death.

"How do you know?" Oydar shook his head in disbelief.

- I told you - I had a neighbor, a disabled person. He told me everything - what to expect from the army, what to be afraid of. What to do and what not to do. So I know everything.

- Yeah? So maybe you'll tell me what and how? - Oydar's lips curved into a mocking smile, but Ned felt his curiosity. The guy was the same age as him, so what to expect from a boy?

"Maybe I will," Arnot answered solemnly, and after a pause, for the sake of importance, he began:

- We'll be taken to the Marine Corps base. Then...

- How will they bring it? - Ned interrupted. - Where are we now? I don't know anything. I got here as soon as I had some damn beer. That's all. And did they give you any drugs?

- Some were drugged, some weren't, - the guy shrugged, - me - not. And we are on a marine ship called "Sword of Vengeance", which holds one and a half thousand infantrymen. A whole regiment. So, they caught recruits from all over the country, and they are taking us to the base, where they will make heroes out of us. They will train us for six months and then...then they will send us where the king needs us. We are the main striking force in the fight against those who want to grab the Masur Islands. Well, and the rest that belongs to the king. That's basically it.

"And that's it," Oydar said sadly, "and that's it."

- What are you whining about? - Ned said coldly. - You're alive, healthy, a capable fighter. It's Arnot and I who should be worried, but what were you so worried about? And besides, you knew where you were going. You're not quite as much of a bumpkin as Arnot and me!

- Do you need to worry? - snorted Oydar. - You, who laid out the master of uatsu like a child? You still haven't said - what is your fighting style? I read an ancient treatise - a lost art of ancient combat, it was called something... hmmm... I'll remember now... Ah! Here! Shantso. Shantso it was called. And it was mastered by the fighters of the Shirduan sect - black magicians, and demonologists at that. They kept the traditions of this fight and did not reveal their secrets to anyone. They searched all over the world for children who had demonologist abilities and took them to themselves - they made deals with the parents, stole them or bought them. The children disappeared and never returned to their parents. Never. But these magicians were invincible. They never used any weapons except for a staff and their body, but no one could defeat them alone. However - and not in a crowd either. "They killed them all," Oydar finished unexpectedly, and moving his mattress closer, he lay down next to Ned, looking at the ceiling.

- What do you mean, they killed them?! - Arnot snorted - if they were invincible? What a fairy tale. You've read all sorts of crap, and now you're telling fairy tales.

- Well, you're an idiot... well, these aren't fairy tales! - Oydar glanced sideways at the imperturbable Ned, lying on his back and examining the ceiling boards - they were shot down with bows, crushed by the mass. Burned, again. They sent magicians on them. And a lot of people died. For every demonologist - at least fifty people died until they were all laid out. Historical fact, you need to read books! And don't talk nonsense! - Oydar got angry - they even laid out twenty magicians, until they were simply burned with "black fire" from combat fire pipes! They blocked their temple, and burned it! No one survived! And they say they took away treasures - just a lot - they transported them by ships! Only some of them perished, these same ships with gold. The gods sent a storm, and the ships sank somewhere off our shores. If only I could find the place where they lie...I would find a use for these treasures.

- Mda... Arnot drawled - and I would find a use for them. I would build a big house, hire servants, workers. I would get married. I would take a beautiful wife. I would start children. A family... I so want to have many, many children! So that they can run around, make noise, and I will never scold them. Let them run. Let them make noise. It's so bad when the house is very quiet, very quiet... like a grave.

Arnot turned away, and the boys saw his shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. Then he calmed down, and Oydar continued, his voice slightly changed, cracked:

- In short, the ships sank, and the treasures were taken to the king's treasury. That's all. The martial art of the black magicians is lost, there are no demonologists. And the place where their temple stood was razed to the ground. And no one remembers where it was, this cursed place. And since then... I counted... about a thousand years have passed. It was a long time ago. So, how do you know this martial art?

"My father taught me," Ned answered reluctantly, "and forbade me to talk about it."

- Father? Are you an Ard? Do the Ards still have ancient art? - Oydar asked, puzzled - strange. They somehow didn't have the art of bare-handed combat of this kind. More fist fights, and mastery of various weapons. They are specialists in combat with heavy swords and axes. I am a master of watsu, so I know a lot about combat.

- I told you - I don't want to talk about it. I'm telling you once and for all - never ask me about it. And let's finish right away - don't ask me to teach you. I won't. Better tell me who the demonologists are, what they did, and why the king is so against them. I've never heard of such things.

- Never? Are you sure? - Oydar chuckled incredulously, watching Ned's imperturbable, mask-like face - well, as you wish. If you don't want to talk, don't talk. Okay. Let's assume you don't know. Demonologists are black magicians who can summon demons from the place where they live. Or rather, they could. The art of summoning demons has been lost.

- Real demons?! - Arnot perked up - with wings. Teeth and claws? I'd like to see!

- I don't recommend it. After that, you would turn into mincemeat - Oydar chuckled - no, not those demons. No one sees these demons. They are invisible. But they enter a person, and the person gets some kind of disease. But it is impossible to cure him. Or rather, it is possible - but only if the demonologist himself drives out the demon. Or other demonologists. It was like this - the healer comes, the person seems to be cured, but a week or two passes - and he gets even worse, so bad that he dies in agony. The curses of demonologists could not be cured by anything except their spells. There!

"It's good that they burned them," Arnot shuddered, "I can't imagine some creature biting into me from the inside, gnawing out my heart, my liver…"

"Okay…" Ned said vaguely. He had a picture in his mind: the healer Cenerad telling Anthur that he was completely healthy. The boy felt a chill in his stomach when he heard Oydar's story about how it was impossible to cure the damned with a demonologist. Really?! No, it couldn't be. No way!

- Ugh! My stomach even hurts - Oydar pretended to groan - come on, you painted a picture! So that's why they were killed. They took orders for murder, blackmailed the rich and the poor, behaved disgustingly - they organized sacrifices, orgies, got rich and accumulated huge treasures. They supposedly possessed ancient knowledge, and supposedly discovered the secret of making gold from other metals. It seems to me - that's why they were killed. Not for any magical secrets, but because they became too rich. What king would tolerate such rich people next to him? When the treasury is exhausted by wars and revelries... Our kings have never been known for their ability to spend money carefully. And the current one, they say, likes to organize endless drinking parties and orgies.

- By the way, can you tell us more about the orgies that the demonologists organized... well, what they did there, why and why... you can tell us about the royal orgies too... - Arnot couldn't help but burst out laughing. Oydar started laughing too, Ned, who rarely smiled, unexpectedly joined the guys, and started giggling harder and harder, until his quiet giggling turned into laughter. And now all three guys were laughing, clutching their stomachs and letting tears flow from their eyes.

What was it? Hysteria? Possibly. Or maybe young, healthy organisms were simply looking for a reason to discharge, to release psychic energy. And they found it.

- Hey, you horses! - someone next to the guys shouted good-naturedly - let us sleep! They're laughing, the bastards...it's even envious.

- Young people, what do they care? - someone chuckled from the opposite side of the hold. - They were once that stupid. However, they haven't become any smarter. If they were smart, they wouldn't get into this shit. For two gold pieces and a mug of beer.

- Yeah... someone from afar supported us - the son of a bitch recruiter! Drink, you won't get poisoned! And he put his finger there himself! Creature. They'll take us to the islands, and that's where they'll finish us off. And bury us in the damp earth. And what the hell does the king need these islands for?! I wish the gods would drown them all at once, and for the end of the universe!

- Fool! There is gold and silver on the islands. Black oil for fire pipes. Forest. The natives are hardy and strong. Everything is there! No wonder the three kingdoms have been squabbling over them for a hundred years. It's not for nothing.

- Not without reason? What if...

Ned listened to the recruits' conversation with half an ear, and thought about how he was in deep trouble - in deep trouble from all sides. Like a rabbit in a snare. And now he had to keep his eyes open - not show any signs of magic, not give anyone any reason to suspect that he was reading people's thoughts. It would be nice to give up his combat skills - but how could he do that if his body itself did what it needed? It was good that he hadn't killed Oydar today. And he had to admit - it was with great difficulty that he stopped the murder. He was simply drawn to wring the guy's neck, he barely stopped himself. Control, and more control - he told himself, and was surprised - he had never even spoken such words, let alone thought?

Oydar was still telling something about life, about martial arts, but Ned was no longer listening. The story about demonologists had shocked him. It was clear that he understood what was being talked about. It was not hard to understand, if you were the one he was talking about. And it was scary. Ned really didn't want to go to the fire.