The Mist and the Lightning. Part VI

He looked at her tattoos. Beautiful. A little darker than her dark skin, with swirling patterns. He recognized familiar themes in these interweaving. They mean something. Some are like those… this monogram on the thigh, slightly convex like that of…

And Lis timidly ran his hand over her tattooed thigh. He felt irregularities, light bulges of the picture, where the skin was apparently pierced deeper than necessary. Ahhh…

Satisfied, Asa fell off to the side. Tol stood at the foot of the bed, holding the puppy on its hind legs. The puppy twisted frantically, bending and trying to bite Tol’s fingers. He was too round and pot- bellied to get what he wanted.

“You know, Lis,” said Tol, not paying attention to the dog trying to get out, “I’ll tell you as my best friend! When you're not showing off, you're so cool!”

Arel sat on the bed:

“My stomach hurts,” he said plaintively.

“What's wrong with your stomach?” Nikto asked aloof, he was looking for something in his bag and it seemed he couldn’t find it.

Outside the window, a windy but clear spring day began.

“It hurts, awful. Maybe the stomach, I don’t know… And the same thing yesterday! What should I do?”

“Smoke and everything will pass.” “Make me a smoke, Nick.”

“And “hard” does not suit you?”

“I love grass more. I like “hard” less. It’s you who likes “hard”.”

“Okay, now… wait…” Nikto stopped rummaging in his bag, went to the table and poured some grass on a sheet of paper.

“Hey?! What are you doing there? Nik, I think this is some important document. Are you going to tear it up?”

“I will just pin on it and that’s it. I am not going to tear anything.”

“Well, pin it… Arel tightened again, hugging his long-suffering belly with both hands. “Or maybe…” he began timidly after a while.

“No.”

Arel sighed heavily.

Nikto laughed, bowing his head over the paper and reading it: “Twelve days, three hours.”

“What?”

“This paper. Document,” Nikto handed it to Arel. Arel indifferently took the sheet:

“Ahhhh…” he said, “it was Enriki who gave me that. The decree. He grunted scornfully. Those freaks imposed a fine!”

“You’re taking time, it’s dangerous.” Arel cocked his head:

“What do you suggest?! To give you away?!” He asked in exasperation. Nikto looked down, handing Arel a clogged cigarette:

“Hold on.”

Arel literally snatched it from Nikto’s fingers.

“Why did they set such a deadline?” Nikto asked. “Why such strange numbers, twelve days, three hours?”

Arel blew smoke, and handed the jamb back to Nikto: “Will you?”

Nikto nodded.

“They are morons,” Arel continued, “for me their stupid orders mean nothing. Twelve days, thirteen days, a week. I don’t give a shit… shi-i-i- t…”

“It just sounds so cool – twelve days, three hours, they should have written twelve minutes, three seconds!”

“Yes, fucked up,” agreed Arel, taking the cigarette again and taking a deep drag.

“They first demanded for a week or something,” he continued after a while, when he blew smoke. “Then they realized that it was pointless, they wrote this demand. Knowing fully well that this was pointless. They just supposedly do everything according to the law. First warning, second, third. Then a fine.”

“And what next is the law? Nikto asked. “When these twelve days end?” “Next? Guard is next, Nik…”

Nikto shook his head.

“I have a finale in the “Lower” Coliseum.” “I know.”

“It sucks…” Nikto returned to his bag.

“It’s jamming me so much, oh!” Arel leaned back on the pillows. He crouched into a lump, and covered himself with a blanket:

“Why is shit always happening to me, Nik? Will you explain me? Why am I always a laughing stock? Why do stories go about me, not you, not Lis, not Enriki, it’s me who always gets into a stupid position!”

“Don’t talk nonsense, you are just high a little, that's all.”

“Aha! And why didn’t they manage to comb out my horse properly? All combed out, and mine skims like cattle!”

Nikto laughed:

“If it weren’t so cold in the winter in the stable, they wouldn’t have become so overgrown with wool.”

“Yeah…”

“Is your stomach alright?” “Nah…”

Chapter five

Good weed. Lis and Squint-Eye talk about love

“Hi, Alis,” Squint-Eye went down the stairs to the hall and sat at the end of the table in Arel’s place. Leaning with his elbows on the countertop, he laid his chin on his hands with his palms open up:

“What are you doing?”

“Hello,” Lis muttered distantly, on the table in front of him lay a deck of cards.