City of inheritance

part 3

The head of the council of the city of Big Stone found a house on the mountain without any effort. Despite the fact that the person living in it stubbornly called himself a hermit, a wide path was trodden to its threshold. And the dwelling least of all resembled a cave laid down for hermits. Solid house, partly stone, partly wooden. It stands on a man-made ledge surrounded by huge pines. Even some fragrant greenery grew near the house itself. And along the path someone planted flowers.

Hermits don't live like that. Atana knew exactly. She saw these hermits, at best, whiled away their days sharing a cave with a skinny, mangy goat, giving a mug of milk a day. And they ate from the garden and what they begged from good people, going down to the villages. And they were dressed in unwashed gray-brown rags.

The owner of the hermit's house did not even remind. Good clothes, trimmed and without the obligatory shaggy beard.

He sat on the threshold, smoking a pipe and looking at the sky.

And he