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11

The old wing was called so precisely because of its venerable age. Perhaps he was the first of the buildings erected in the middle of a vast, but long abandoned park. Or maybe at that time the park as such did not yet exist, and there was only a wasteland ... Like everything old, the outbuilding was built “for centuries”: thick masonry walls, beams from specially soaked in water and therefore similar in hardness with stone wood, large petals of clay tiles, tightly fitting one to the other. The windows are narrow, on the ground floor tightly taken away with bars. Doors with heavy locks cause a persistent desire never to open them. A gloomy building, I do not argue. And it suits its purpose well. But now…

From the cracks formed from the drying of the frames, smoke oozes, and in some places behind the window panes flames are visible, still timid, but have already begun to devour the interior decoration of the premises.

- Why don't you put it out? I ask Ollie, who is impassively looking at the childhood and adolescence of the fiery element.

“I have no right without your order,” the saffron replies sarcastically.

You can swear, but that's the way things are. Completely. The shelter is my “family business”, and only I bear full responsibility for what happens in it. I make decisions, too, and no one else.

- I command!

- What exactly? Ollie continues to test my patience.

- Eliminate the fire!

- As you wish, - a satisfied smile and fingers that begin to move in a special rhythm. Rhythm that makes me nervous.

"Hey, what are you going to use?"

- "Exhaust".

“Have you checked if anyone is alive in the wing?”

- Nobody.

"And the Ghost?"

Ollie made a disgusted face.

- Yes, no ... What's the difference? It will be easier for us if...

— Do not dare!

“Well, as you know,” weathered lips pursed in displeasure.

“First I’ll check…” I moved towards the outbuilding, and Ollie called out frightenedly:

- Crazy? Eel!

Nothing, I'll be quick.

So, the door is open, but nothing is visible behind it: everything is in a muddy veil. The ghost usually lives on the second floor, so you have to go up. It is dangerous to go up the stairs - I will swallow smoke before I get to the right place. So let's go through the window.

I raise my head and at a glance I estimate the thickness of the ivy tentacles that wrap around the wall. Must endure, I'm not that heavy. True, I haven’t crawled along the ladder for a long time, but at least it won’t swing here ... It was decided: to the second through the window, then to the end of the corridor, back and down the stairs. Estimated rise time is one minute.

- Will you get in?

- Yes.

- Take it. Ollie hands me a piece of cloth that oozes water.

- Thanks. I clamp the edge of the handkerchief in my teeth and begin to climb the weaves of ivy.

I found entertainment for myself at night looking ... Oh, I’ll find out who set the fire, it won’t seem enough! If Ollie is right and this is the work of my fools, I will leave everyone without sweets. And no walks. For a week. No, for a month. I will be cruel and merciless.

Up! I climb onto the stone ledge and kick open the window. The smoke that has been hiding inside the room until now bursts out with bitter malice right in my face. No, it's not that easy to lead me astray! I hold my breath and cover my nose and mouth with the bandage Alden has kindly lent me. It immediately becomes easier. I hope the magician did not mix any potions there? He will become…

Dispersing clouds of smoke, I get out into the corridor. It's good that I know the local layout like the back of my hand, because you can't see anything. And no lamp would help. Except it's magical.

Twenty feet. Thirty. I compare the distance traveled by the number of doors left behind. Everything seems to be correct. So here.

I tumble into the penultimate room. Well, where are you, my miserable Ghost?

A barely audible cough from a far corner. No, to open the window, huddled in where the smoke is thicker! Old people are like children: no considerations. I feel my way to a small figure crouching against the wall. I don’t waste my breath and strength on words - it would be enough to bring the poor thing to the exit. A fit of coughing shakes the bony body. Eh, yes, she will completely suffocate ... I pull off the bandage from my face and press the pretty already dried up fabric to the old woman's face. Come on, honey! Hold on! It seems to help: the cough becomes softer. Carefully, but persistently, I push the fool to the path to fresh air. You can, of course, lower it out of the window, but Ollie will not catch it, which means that the old woman will break all her bones.

I have enough strength to reach the stairs, but, having stepped on it, I understand: if I get down without loss, it will be a miracle. The most real.

The right leg wobbles. Ouch. There will be no miracle. I fall forward, already mentally counting the steps with my nose, but my flight is interrupted. Pretty rude, but I don't mind. I don’t even take offense at a strong palm that pressed a wet cloth into my face ...

Lint Quarter, Royal Asylum for the Infirm,

a quarter of an hour after the fire was extinguished

Dejectedly, I look at the blood clots mysteriously winking with the reflections of torches on the grass. The result of my coughing and expectoration. Sad, I must admit. Well, nothing, it's fixable. But other troubles...

There are three of them. And now they are all standing in front of me, taking exactly the same poses: arms crossed over their chests and looking reproachfully from under their brows. Only heavy glances directed at the culprit of turning to official duties on a seemingly free day are filled with different feelings and are well readable, since the inconspicuous gray tones of clothing allow you to focus on facial expressions.

A thin brunette with pale cheeks looks at me tiredly and a little surprised: they say, who would have thought that you would also dare to do such stupidity.

A dark-skinned woman, whose tarry scythe descends like a gorged snake onto her magnificent chest, is angry, and in the brilliance of dilated pupils one can read: again you, forever you, all because of you.

And only in the eyes of a tall, seemingly ponderous man with a neatly trimmed short beard, I see something that I would not want to see. Anxiety and concern. This is how a mother looks at a disobedient but beloved child, or a teacher at a negligent but promising student. It is this look that makes me spit another blood clot on the grass along with a quiet curse and start the usual game, for which some people hate Raiden Ra-Gro to death.

- And for what reason did you ruffle, respected ones? - I smile from the bottom of my mouth, pleased, like a cat that has seized on a jug of freshly skimmed cream.

However, my question is addressed only to those who are obliged to answer it. Therefore, the woman grimaces, not even trying to hide her contemptuous grimace from my gaze, and takes a step back and to the side, behind the giant's back, contriving to slightly touch his thigh with hers, which for a moment appeared from the folds of the cloak. Whether the playful maneuver goes unnoticed or not, it doesn't matter: both I and the blond-haired Ballig, whom Kyrian honored with her passion, know perfectly well what's what. But at this very moment, love games faded into the background, giving the right to do other things.

“You still don’t want to grow up, bright dan,” the “shell” of my bodyguard squad informs me calmly, but with a great deal of regret.

Is there anything more valuable in the world than constancy? I remark thoughtfully. “It’s not for nothing that a woman’s loyalty is shattered into pieces by a man’s habit.

The stone is thrown into the garden, but the black-haired Kyrian takes it on her ... mm ... chest. And when did she get so round? A year ago... Ah, I'm not up to girlish secrets today. Will be able to ask.

Ballig smiles sadly at the corners of his lips.

“You are undoubtedly right, bright dan, but making the same mistakes from year to year is not evidence of constancy, but of a mind lost in stubbornness.

I snort. This time the blow is meant for me alone, and without difficulty passes through all the defensive redoubts that I could erect in its path. They called me a fool. And who, you ask? A guard who is only allowed to keep my mortal body from danger. But I won't get angry. It is generally impossible to be angry with this good-natured bear. Probably, it was precisely with his mild disposition (in his free time, of course) that he kindled a tender passion in the heart of the former thief. After thoroughly driving around the parade ground and establishing its suitability for the honorable, but burdensome place of the “right claw” with my modest person. Maybe. I never tried to find out the details - neither by my own methods, nor by digging into the dossier gathering dust in Vig's office. What for? If the dark-skinned girl does not cause warm feelings in me (and should:

How many years has he been with me? Nine? No, almost ten: since the day my final migration to the city happened. And for all this time I never heard a rude word from my bodyguard (although I ran into it, repeatedly and with persistence worthy of a better use), I did not feel the weight of his hand (although I deserved a spanking, at least twice a month). How could a completely ordinary person develop an almost divine patience? The mind is incomprehensible. And by the way, the worst punishment for me was and remains his look, such as it is now: a little reproachful, a little regretful and surprisingly warm. If I had not seen the giant in action, I would never have believed that he was capable of killing. And he is capable. And how! "Claws" are far from him. Kyrian - because even as a thief, she never stained her hands with blood. Honku - "left claw" - because he considers bringing the fight to the death of the enemy below his dignity. It has the right to do so, by the way: it was once considered one of the best swords in the Bitter Land. And then his compatriots drove him away for some misdeeds, and the former larr[12] ended up in Antrey, quickly joining our small but very hot company.

What is my mistake today?

Goading Ballig into a pointless argument. Just out of harm. But the giant still calmly and gently begins to explain:

“You know as well as those present here, bright dan, that your life is worth more than all the inhabitants of this house put together.

— Is that how?

I narrow my eyes. Of course, in daylight, my grimace would have looked much more menacing, but I add the missing colors with a hiss in my voice:

- And for me, the life of any person, even one of these unfortunate ones, is equal in price to mine. For himself. And for me.

- As you wish. - The blond head makes a slight movement, which, with a fair naivety of the observer, can pass for a bow.

“I mean it in all seriousness, Ballig. You may not agree with my opinion, but that doesn't change it.

“I know, light dan.” Another nod.

"So don't freak out!" Nothing happened, right?

“Because we were close,” the giant adds.

“YOU were there,” I correct, slyly looking at Kyrian. “You bet none of them would follow me into the fire?”

Now Ballig shakes his head.

“Tonight is a night of mistakes, bright dan.

- What do you mean by that?

- There is a mind. There are feelings. And there is a debt that is stronger than both the first and the second. Any of us will give our lives if it is necessary to ransom yours from the Gray Lady.

The giant speaks so solemnly and penetratingly that one wants to cry. Uninitiated viewers.

Will give, how! The memory is still fresh of the memory of how the whole trinity stared with interest at me, who fell from the pier (well, I slipped on the gangway wet after the rain), waiting: it will swim out - it won’t swim out. Kyrian and Honk even made bets on which stroke I would go under the water with my head. Ballig did not participate in this gambling game, but he was in no hurry to save the drowning man. To be honest, I was pretty scared then and choked on sea water to the very “I can’t” before they finally pulled me out. But since then, in the service of the fasteners of the cloak and the sling, I have constantly kept them half-opened, so that in a similar case I have time to get rid of at least a load of steel and a stupid heap of fabric, striving to swaddle my arms and legs.

“And you too, Kiri-giiry [13] ? Will you also give your life for me?

I jump close to the black-haired woman and with pleasure draw in the tart aroma of swarthy skin through my nostrils. Kyrian staggers back, chin up in outrage.

“Don’t be afraid,” I hear Alden’s voice from behind. - He is now not able to smell something even a step away from him.

— And you there too! I throw up my hands in disgust. - Traitor! But I believed you, as ... as ... as myself!

“So I haven’t lost anything,” the redhead remarks melancholy. Because you don't trust yourself one bit.

Everything is against the poor sick man! Wow, you bastards! I show my fist.

Ballig chuckles softly through his mustache. I think I managed to drive the sadness out of his bright eyes. Well, it's nice: at least something good has been done today. In addition to extending the life of one of the oldest inhabitants of the shelter for an indefinite period. But in the case of the Ghost, my actions are not a feat or a whim. Just a duty. Too bad no one understands this. And then I don’t care about these three, I don’t care about Ollie, I can even put Vig’s opinion aside, but Nais ... Why doesn’t she want to understand? Why?..

“Do you need our help, bright dan?” The ballig touches my shoulder.

- BUT? Help? No, you can rest. I'm done with pranks for today.

“Don’t work too hard tomorrow,” the giant advises in a friendly way, and the trinity, stepping outside the torch-lit section of the garden, dissolves into darkness.

You might think they are gone. Hhaha with two! Shadows will follow me from the orphanage to my home, through all the streets and drinking establishments that I intend to visit. Or will I not? I'll probably go straight to bed. Tired of something. Yes, and there is little use from drinking, when smoky bitterness took up defense in the mouth, clogging all conceivable and unthinkable sensations.

Well, I couldn't let Ollie make his favorite "hood" as long as there was at least someone alive in the house. Could not. Because I don’t wish anyone such a terrible death as drying. An effective spell, I can’t say anything against it: it extracts water from everything that is in a certain perimeter. From EVERYTHING. And if there is no water as such, but there are components necessary for its appearance, then it is also involved in the creation of this blessed liquid. With a great desire and effort, I can also create a “hood” and something else, but I prefer to take life in the old proven way - resorting to the services of ringing steel.

Yes, yes, if necessary, I can wave my sword, and quite successfully. True, they taught me not at all court dances, the result of which can only be a thin scratch on my chin. They taught me differently: how to stay alive with minimal effort. What do you need to live on your own? The death of the enemy and preferably sudden. Why do you have to try ... No, I have security, and not bad. Moreover, surprisingly imperceptible and reliable. So inconspicuous that I got used to it, as one gets used to the air that one breathes. Used to. But I didn’t become careless, because when it comes to a direct collision, no bodyguards will help me. Unless they cover their backs. And from the front - I myself will try. Personally.

Everything must be done by yourself. Ideally. But now I’ll leave the case to Alden: all the same, the interrogators will arrive at the site of the failed fire only in the morning, because no one wants to crawl out of bed in the middle of the night to breathe smoke in a shelter for the weak in spirit. Never mind, Ollie will figure it out tomorrow. If there is anything. Most likely fools arson and staged. How many times I asked them to handle fire with care... It doesn't help. But this time, they should read the notation, and severe. Yes, after all, you will have to describe the affected property ... Hhag! Ollie won't be able to cope with this: the Old Wing has always been uninteresting to him, and how many chairs and tables are charred there, the ginger will not even look. Okay. I will count and describe. When the time comes.

Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah...

Well, I'm already yawning. It's time to go home.