The white dove cooed on the windowsill so loudly that Yakir heard it from the bedroom. Jumping up, he pulled on a wrinkled red shirt and glanced out the window. The gray morning foreshadowed the same chilly day as the day before, which meant that dressage in the fields was out of the question. A disturbed, damp shutter creaked for a long time, and there was a smell of freshly cut grass and fumes—garbage was being burned outside the fence for the second day. Carefully taking the bird, Yakir removed a thin silver tube from his cold paw and, returning the dove to the windowsill, whispered affectionately:- Well, dear, thank you - did not disappoint. Fly home! The small handwriting, so ornate that even skilled scribes could envy, was well known. From whom the news came, it became clear immediately. Pigeons, sent only by Ali-Nari, were knocking at Yakir's bedroom window. As children, they often wrote to each other - this was their entertainment in an endless routine of gossip and secr

The night was warm and so quiet that, apart from the steady creak of wheels and the clatter of hooves, there was no other sound. The sky, which until recently sparkled from an endless scattering of stars, turned black. Judging by the ensuing calm, a storm was approaching. “Will we make it to Barsetal? Liramel thought wearily, and standing up, looked out the open window. Far ahead, to the left, dim lights could be seen. “We must have time,” she decided, and, sitting down again, she leaned back on her hard back. The even breathing of her brother, who had dropped his head on her shoulder, made her sleepy. The second day they drove along the endless road. After the gates of Pata were left behind, the forests began to gradually thin out and move east towards Tyre. Monotonous hills with verdant fields and rare lacy copses stretched along the road. The time allotted for the choice was almost up, and Lyramel was still unable to decide anything. Irritation with herself and the treachero

After reading the latest reports, Karl neatly folded an impressive pile of letters and, tying them with thin twine, threw them into the fireplace over the embers. For a while he watched indifferently as the whitish smoke slowly and lazily stretched into the chimney, and then turned away. The day was coming to an end, and all the planned things were done. Only minor touches remained.The setting maroon sun was rolling menacingly towards the forest. In the stuffy stillness, one could hear the steady clatter of hooves on the paving stones and the low voice of the officers outside the door: the tired guards were waiting for their shift.Unbuttoning the collar of his doublet, Karl went to the open window and sat down on the sill. From the gate of the garden, along the white road, a lone horseman was galloping. His black horse looked tired, and he kept looking around, as if expecting a chase. Narrowing his eyes, Carl leaned forward slightly, trying to get a good look at the man, when he, as

The crystal chandelier burned with iridescent sparks and floated overhead like a huge airship: back and forth, back and forth ... Burying her nose in her brother's flannelette shirt, Leah sobbed from time to time, making it clear that she was still not sleeping. She did not want Karl to leave: she was scared and cold alone.When the blackness behind the curtains became so gray that the outlines of the window became visible, the brother turned off the light and, putting her to bed, lay down next to her with a sigh. "I'm not leaving," he said quietly. "Sleep already." Just in case, she hugged his hand and obediently closed her eyes. - I don't want you to leave. “Christian and Aunt Lis will be with you, and I'll be back in a couple of days. I promise.“I don’t want to stay with them, I want to be with you!” Take me with you!– I can’t, Veterok, maybe next time…You already said that the year before! Carl sighed again."I thought you'd forget," he admitted. - Well, I'm sorry ... I

It was only a couple of days' journey to the mountains, darkening with sharp peaks in the north. There, on the eastern slopes, hidden from prying eyes, native Shanfar shone white under the sun - the city where Darita herself was born a quarter of a century ago and where her mother and father remained. So many years have passed since she last saw them that the faces dear to her heart were almost erased from her memory. Long painful years of slavery, from morning to night filled with blood, sweat and horror, drove even thoughts of disobedience out of Darita's soul. In the Black Fortress, fear was everywhere: it seemed to ooze from the walls, flow down the floor, envelop and suffocate. Darita had known his taste and smell since childhood, from the day a tall blond man with eyes as black as night came and took her sister, her beloved Dera, by the hand. He killed her on the same new moon, how he killed before that all the firstborn of their people - over and over again ... for so long that