The Mist and the Lightning. Part 12

“So what? Will he study animals?”

“And were they caught? Have you got the bear?” Kors asked.

“Yes,” Nikto nodded. “The unclean ones caught everyone, and put them in cages again. The unclean ones easily found them, they seem to smell them.”

“Well, that's understandable,” said Kors.

“So what are you going to do with the bear?” Nikto continued, looking at Lis. “Why study it? To train? If it doesn’t work out with the throne, will you be a wandering artist, driving around cities with a trained bear? Will you arrange performances?”

Nikto looked at Lis with a grin, expecting his reaction, and he froze for a second, trying to cope with it, and then answered calmly:

“Yes, of course, I will lose the army, I will command the bear. I'll paint my face like a jester, I'm no stranger, and I'll be a wandering artist. Can you borrow a bell into the nose?”

“Lis…” Nikto hesitated. “If we don’t win, it seems to be useful to me. Excuse me for screwing you up.”

“It's all right,” said Lis.

Kors looked at them very seriously: both Lis and Nikto looked somehow unkempt, tortured. Lis was a little over thirty, and Nikto was even less, but the expression of their faces… Both of them were very scarred, broken, it was clear that they had gone through a lot – with a clear imprint of fatigue, they evoked ambiguous feelings. Lis would probably say they looked fucked up. Kors thought that this obscene word, unfortunately, fit perfectly there. He himself, although he was older, but his tongue didn’t turn to say that he “could be their father” – so impeccable Kors looked, well-groomed, taking care of himself and his appearance, a worthy representative of the true black race. A beautiful, clean face, without a single scar. The prideful posture of the born master was complemented by obviously tastefully selected expensive clothes.

“What kind of mood are you in?” He said. “If we don’t win… but what should I do then?”

“You will teach the bear decency,” Lis smiled sadly.

“It would be better if you take less of your… hmmm… “restoratives” and alcohol, it's scary to look at you.”

“Kors, I said to teach the bear, not us!” Lis coughed.

“Alis, are you sick? What happened to you? Do you have tuberculosis?”

Lis looked up at him gloomily, and this look explained everything without words.

Kors’ face twisted.

“I suspected all this time, but didn’t want to believe. This cough of yours… what's with Karina?!”

“Nik said, I can't infect anyone yet. And he will heal me. So fuck off.”

“He should have cured himself for a start! I'll talk to my doctor, find some good medicines for you!”

“He cannot be given medicine,” Nikto intervened, “then bleeding will begin in the stomach so much that you cannot stop it.”

“Yes…” Kors could hardly restrain himself from cursing. “What's with the stomach?”

“That's really fucked up there,” said Nikto.

“And hepatitis? It too?”

“What's this? Kors, you just throw in the names of diseases, I don't know the names, especially in black,” said Nikto displeased.

“This is what you and the prince had. I cured Arel in the Prison Hospital.”

“I seem to have infected him again,” Nikto said. “If you mean it.”

“I don’t have it,” said Lis. “I always use only my syringe, and I don't give it to anyone.”

“I injected Arel with my syringe,” said Nikto.

“Are you crazy?” Kors looked at him with undisguised horror.

“I’ll cure everyone. What are you afraid of? You're not going to inject yourself with my syringe. Otherwise, you will not get infected, only through blood.”

“Do you think I'll take drugs with you?”

“Yes.”

“Demon, are yourself?”

“Not really,” Nikto laughed. “Not myself. I am in your son.”

“Damn, I am now afraid to sit next to you! What was I just thinking about!”

“Kors, don't be silly. Lis is not contagious. And Karina. Only through a syringe can you get infected from me, and even then I'm not sure. Don't bitch out so openly.”

“This is not fear, but common sense.”

“I'll cure everyone. You are behaving like a child!”

“Although…” Kors thought. “There is some logic in this, you are a Demon. Dead people, dangerous addictions. It's not for you to grow flowers, in fact…”

Nikto looked at Marcus, who was still kneeling in front of them, and it was clear that he couldn’t bear it all, hear all this, and he was completely crushed and disoriented.

“By the way! This fauna,” said Nikto, “is it all kinds of plants? And the mushrooms? Can he grow mushrooms?”

“Fuck you mushrooms!” Lis remarked irritably.

“Fooljumpers.”

“Nik, take off his gloves.”

“He’s a slave.”

“Nik, he can't make drugs with gloves!”

“He can't do them anyway!” Nikto grunted.

“He will make gunpowder, he will read the books of the reds, figure out the proportions and make us gunpowder and all sorts of fiery lighters that explode.”

“What?”