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THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION 39
Sending the guards away, Karl locked the secret door and lowered the tapestry with a sigh. It was getting light. Motes of dust danced lazily in the dim half-fan of light falling from the open window. Furrowing his brow in displeasure, Karl took a couple of steps and ran his finger along the windowsill. Dust outlined a gray rim on the pillow. While Lyramel was away and Linnie helped her mother in the kitchens, the servants neglected to clean thoroughly.Looking up at the overcast sky, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath of the damp morning air. The wind touched his hot forehead and blew the beads of sweat from his temples. The night was difficult, but the coming day promised a long-awaited peace. The mechanism began to move independently, and for the time being, nothing more depended on Karl. All that remained was to wait.The treasury was dark. Lighting the candle, he raised it above his head and looked around. He needed a weapon, and from what he had seen in the last year, ther
THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION 40
Carefully placing a female wax figurine on the windowsill, the tall, fair-haired man ran his bony fingers over it once more and whispered something. His eyes rolled unnaturally, and the skin on his white, sunken cheeks turned blue and stretched, outlining his cheekbones and the network of blood vessels at his temples. He stood motionless for a minute, then opened his eyes and looked around as if searching for something. Surprise and a strange, incredulous joy reflected on his face. Looking up at the dark ceiling, he uttered a couple of sharp words, more like a croak, and laughed out loud. Opening her eyes, Lyramel immediately threw off her cloak, which was soaking through, and shivered in the chill. She fell asleep at dawn, never waiting for Tory to take over from her post. Even the downpour that rinsed the forest from the first to the last leaf, and he did not manage to wake her from a viscous strange nightmare. "It's all tiredness and cold," she thought, getting up and walking
THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION 41
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 PATH OF RENUNCIATION 42
The musicians had been playing for the second hour. Behind the high arched windows, the stars had long been burning, and the flickering lights of candles were reflected in the dark panes. Standing in the shadow of one of the pillars that supported the high vault of the spacious rectangular hall, Christian watched his sister carefully. He objected to her first public appearance without proper preparation, but Falinor eventually convinced that it would be a rewarding experience for Liramel. “If I were in her place, I would certainly choose Pat,” she said confidentially before the ball. “Gorgoth has too many wolves and too much politics. No joy!” His aunt's words, and Liramel's assurance that her show of frivolity would appease the Council and present the escape from Lausens as a youthful impulse, finally convinced Christian. My sister danced easily and quickly, but her movements were harsh - there was not enough practice. The luxurious blue dress, altered a couple of hours before
THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION 43
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
THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION 44
Sitting at the table, Paraman put his blade in front of him and, running his palms over the worn velvet armrests, looked with regret at the piles of papers lying in neat piles on top of the unfolded map. Carl was asking for help with the small fiefdom taxes that had come in in recent months, as if alluding to his recent research into the Lausens documentation, which he eventually put aside. The land reform begun by Lirdan's son last summer has finally begun to bear visible fruit. Despite the loud objections of Tarham - the only one of the Heads of the Ten who did not approve of the regent's decision - the tillers and pastoralists, who were able to trade directly with neighboring fiefdoms, improved their position in a year, which was immediately felt by cities and villages. Due to the resulting competition, the prices of many goods fell, and the poor breathed easier. Yes, and the treasury did not remain unprofitable: what profit was received, it was still to be found out, but the fa
THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION 45
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 PATH OF RENUNCIATION 46
The Head of the Council entered the hall almost at the same time as Lord Elicar. Yakir's great-uncle and Duchess Falinor's husband was already advanced in age and, after Tarham, was considered the oldest of the Ten. His once-charcoal-gray hair had gone completely gray and gleamed as silver as his embroidered navy-blue doublet. “Gentlemen,” bowing slightly to Tarham, Karl gestured for everyone who was still standing to take their seats and sat down himself. “Greetings to all,” following tradition, he said in the Ancient language. - First of all, I would like to thank those who had to disrupt their plans for the quick response to my request. And now… Raising his eyes in surprise at the suddenly silent regent, Paraman frowned and mechanically turned around in the same direction he was looking. Liramel, thin and pale, in a mud-stained doublet, stood motionless near the secret door. Meeting Carl's gaze, she gave a barely perceptible nod and slowly walked forward. Christian, descendi