THE PATH OF RENUNCIATION

3

The hot sun floated across the sky in complete calm. Getting out of the car, Carl looked around. Except for a small paddock for young animals, everything around was exactly the same as he remembered. The smell of dung and hot earth, the bleating of sheep... Memories flashed by in a thin tie so quickly that it was not immediately possible to recognize the enemy hand that had called them. Only when Paul called out, inviting him to enter the house, did Karl flinch and frown - he understood. And he immediately cut off his discontent and annoyance: for the time being, this understanding was his rear, and he should have kept his knowledge a secret.

“Thanks again for the invitation, Paul,” he said loudly, his lips stretched into a polite smile. - It's a pity I didn't find your father, he was a wonderful person.

“He was thinking about you all the time,” a reproach slipped through the Guardian's voice. “By the way, I prepared a room upstairs for you, the one where you always stayed…” Noticing that Carl was not going to go into the house, Paul hesitated a little on the threshold, and then, deciding not to insist, stepped inside. He did not close the door, and left it wide open.

Someone else's will pressed from within and without. Trying not to succumb to fear, Karl slowly walked around the corral and headed towards the stables. It is unlikely that the Initiate would wait for him in the house: he needed the Guardian in order to survive in the Big World up to the ascending Western Path. If he knew something that was not supposed to be known, he would have to deeply erase Paul's memory, or even kill him, although the law of the Kingdom forbade touching the Guardians. However, it was not worth relying on the decency of the Order: its servants, as my father repeated more than once, did not leave witnesses.

Walking was hard. As if overcoming an invisible wall, Karl stubbornly moved to where the alarming neighing of frightened horses could be heard.

- My name is Carl. Karl Vallor, - stopping a meter from the plank wall, he shouted. - I want to talk.

The pressure eased. Taking several deep breaths to calm his pounding heart, Karl resolutely walked around the stable and stepped through the doorway.

The man stood back. Short and stocky, with reddish curly hair and clothes obviously borrowed from Paul, the Initiate looked so peaceful and casual that the fear in Karl's soul began to recede. However, appearances were deceiving, and a sense of security was a common suggestion. The servant of the Order swallowed the bait and did not suspect the enemy of the young healer, who had the stupidity to come to him without a weapon.

“And again the Kaelas…” Karl thought, hiding his dislike, remembering his father's stories. “Cursed omnipresent kind.”

“Your Highness…” Slowly turning around, the man bowed gravely. “I was very glad to hear that the late king did not leave Rod without a continuation. It's a pity the Leading Line didn't have the good fortune to know the names of their sons.

Nodding in response to his bow, Karl deliberately drew himself up. The initiate read his motives easily and quickly, without even bothering to look deeper.

- I hope to fix it. Paul told me about the purpose of your visit. I think I have something to offer the Order.

– Is that how? – Predatory squinting, the man leaned forward. “And what is it, son of Lirdan?”

- Power. - Once again feeling his presence in his thoughts, Karl put a mental block and looked defiantly into amazed green eyes. - So? What can the Head of the Council promise for the sacrifice he squandered in the shadow of the White Castle?

The initiate shuddered. Raising his eyebrows in disbelief, he froze, as if listening to something, and then pulled a stiletto from his belt and cut himself on the wrist. His pupils suddenly dilated unnaturally, and his face turned white.

- What are your conditions? – after a couple of moments he asked in a low melodious voice. - What would you like? Rod's Confessions? Title?

Realizing who he was talking to, Carl exhaled slowly.

“Both of them,” he replied calmly. “The Order must not interfere with me or my brother. You will support us both before Rod and testify that Lirdan was our father. And also hide the information you get from me. These are the conditions.

Visibly relaxed, the Initiate nodded.

“You are within your rights, Your Highness. If you do not interfere with the Order and recognize the heir chosen by the Leader, the Council will give you the necessary guarantees.

Carl smiled contentedly. He shouldn't have hidden his true feelings - they were natural.

- I give you my word. And I think it will be easier for both of us if you take a look and see for yourself.

Without waiting for consent, he stepped quickly and touched the Initiate's shoulder.

The vision that the memory kept, Karl could not forget even in a dream. All that was required was to distort only the age of the sister - the envoy of the Order should have seen a bleeding baby, not an adult woman. It was not difficult: Karl raised Leah from the cradle and could imagine her face to the smallest detail.

The initiate let out a muffled cry and staggered. Carl understood. He himself became tired. Long-forgotten impotence and anger stirred unbidden in my soul. Wide-open, pain-filled blue eyes looked into the soul with such unearthly calm that I wanted to die. The future required too much sacrifice, and how to avoid it was not yet clear.

The agonizing seconds while the Initiate absorbed the details of the memory gave Carl the reason for which he decided to take this desperate step. Gathering his will into a fist, he took a short breath and reached for the invisible thread connecting his mind with someone else's consciousness.

- You?! – Sharply recoiling, the red-haired man greedily grabbed the air with his mouth. “You dare to raise your hand against the daughter of the Lead Lineage!?” - He suddenly froze, as if listening to something, and then looked strangely and whispered: - Yes, you could ... Truly, the thirst for power of Rod's children knows no bounds!

Carl shrugged indifferently, trying to hide his own confusion. The information that could be read in the messenger's memory was much more than he had hoped. The pieces of the puzzle came together instantly, and one of the hundreds of options for the future thought out over the years finally gained clarity.

– Does it shock you? His own voice sounded surprisingly calm and cold. “In my opinion, given the fate of my father, my actions are logical and reasonable. We are not him: my brother and I want to live peacefully and for a long time. If the Order decides that this child is dangerous for the Kingdom, it is not for us to change his decisions. In addition, as far as I knew, the Host has someone to continue the Family through.

“Well…” the Initiate agreed cautiously. - You are absolutely right.

- Glad to hear it. - Tucking his thumbs into his belt, Karl looked at him carefully and, after a pause, remarked: - You still did not give your name, envoy. With whom do I have the honor?

“Talor Kael, Your Highness. At your service.” The adept bowed again, but this time quite sincerely.

- Amazing. I think we'll get back to this conversation, Talor. Carl glanced at his watch as if casually. - I'll see you for dinner. It will be more convenient for you and me to wait for the West Path. A year and a half is a short time, and I will help pass it in more than decent conditions.

- I will be grateful. - With visible relief, he nodded, - at this end of the earth we have almost no people, there is no one to rely on.

"Almost?" - Looking down at the plank floor, Karl hid the chill that ran along the spine. The reservation was accidental, Kael was clearly nervous. We had to act quickly and decisively. If Charles had been in Tarham's place, he would certainly have checked everything - after all, it was about the fate of the protege, and while Liramel was breathing, the Head of the Council would not have allowed him to ascend the throne. Kyle's son was needed by Taram alive - only in this way the Council could hold on to power and painlessly interrupt the Leading line.

Karl walked back, no longer feeling the look in the back, although the Initiate was probably watching. Now the only thing left to do was to remind Paul about fertilizers. The assassination of the envoy had to look believable, as well as his last memories - the accident was quite suitable.

With a barely perceptible smile, Karl clouded his mind and almost happily plunged into long-forgotten childhood memories. The past has so far served as a reliable shield for him.

* * *

A single candle was reflected in the glassy, ​​muddy-swamp eyes of the Head of the Council and the High Priest of the Order.

You can say that I accept this offer. Curving his pale lips into a kind of smile, Tarem gave a big start and, as if waking up, closed his eyelids. A short laugh escaped his chest.

- What's the matter? Putting his untouched glass on a table between two chairs, Paraman narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He remembered the old man from the time when his graying hair bore traces of the red that was common to all Kaels. Tarham was older even than his late grandfather.

“Your uncle left a little surprise,” exposing absolutely even yellow teeth, the priest extinguished the candle with a wave of his hand. "It's a pity I won't get to see those bastards." I think you won’t mind: they still have nothing to do with the Host, and Vallor has been divorced enough lately. Two more, two less.

Paraman indifferently turned away to the burning fireplace.

"I'm only interested in the girl," he reminded her. “I'm not going to risk it: your threats are no better than the prospect of breaking tradition.

"She's dead," Tarham replied calmly. - I am sure of this, but for your peace of mind, my messenger will verify everything personally.

– How much more time do you need? Paraman asked without hiding his displeasure. – Months? Years?

The Head of the Council shrugged.

“I don't think it's been that long. Talor said that Lirdan's son has some skills... But no one can masterfully forge a memory and an emotional response without shedding blood, and he is not even an Initiate. However, you need to check, here you are right. When it comes to Vallor, everything needs to be checked.

“Very flattering,” Paraman smiled.

Tarham didn't answer. Leaning forward, he stood up heavily and, cracking his knees, slowly walked to the door. The dark robe trailed behind him, clinging to the white pile of the carpet like a gigantic shadow.

“If your father were alive,” the priest turned around at the door, lifting the inner bolt, “he would be delighted with the news.

“Fortunately, all the joy will go to me alone,” Paraman said without flinching, stretching his lips in a polite smile. - Good night, Taram.

Finally left alone, Paraman swore softly and, taking a glass, finished off the warm, sour wine in one gulp.

“What a wrong time,” he thought with annoyance, looking at the sparks running from ember to ember. “And she was born inopportunely, and left the road when it was not necessary ... Indeed, a complete curse.”

Sleep was to be forgotten for the next few days. Now that the verdict had been pronounced and was imminent, Paraman could consider his next steps. The wax face of a newborn son, which he could not forget even after so many years, served as a mute warning and reproach. To make the same mistakes would be madness, as well as to expect mercy from fate - something, and Paraman never saw this. Fools and women could hope for miracles, but he was used to relying only on facts and his own strength.

“Until intelligence provides me with the corpse of my father or what is left of him, Lawsens will remain empty,” he decided on reflection, and, taking writing utensils from the fireplace, wrote a few words to the manager of the patrimony in a sweeping ornate handwriting. He knew what to do.

Coming out of the corridor into the gallery, Paraman frowned at the guards frozen by the opening. At least two of the four were Tarham's spies, and so far it was impossible to get rid of them without attracting the attention of the priest.

“More people are needed,” slowly turning towards the inner stairs, Paraman touched the rough stone railing with his hand. “Reliable people who you can rely on and who will not arouse suspicion…”

Stopping, he turned around and looked thoughtfully at the high doors leading to his sister's chambers. Ali-Nari had been visiting Gorgota for a month now with Aunt Falinor, which was a good excuse to see Lafast. The general could be trusted, at least as far as the trustworthiness of his men. Besides, Ali had already reached marriageable age, and Rod could well raise the issue of her future party with Lord Varuta: Yakir should complete his studies and gain experience. Alone, Paraman did not want to defend the interests of the Leader before the Council and was not going to.