The Mist and the Lightning. Part 12

“Then what’s the meaning of this question?”

“Sorry, sorry.”

“Go here! Sit down!” Lis opened the notebook in front of him. “Do you understand anything?”

Marcus glanced at the pages dotted with numbers and even seemed a little interested:

“It's chemistry.”

“Do you understand it?”

“Now, wait a minute, please.”

“Make it out clear. I have no time to wait, I will come to you later. You can watch everything here, touch it. Explore. This is your world now, study it, scientist!”

“A-ah? Will I stay like this… without clothes? Naked?” Marcus shivered.

“Do something, show what you can do. And the Demon will give you clothes, allow you to take off your mask and gloves.”

“Will you put the mask on me again? I don't see anything in it.”

“Marcus, you are not a human now. A person has a face and clothes. You haven't got it yet. And I can't do anything about it, I also obey. You have heard. I am your master, but he is mine. I am a slave to the Demon.”

“You have to be crazy to do this voluntarily,” Marcus whispered, looking at Lis with such fear in his eyes that Lis didn’t even consider it necessary to answer.

“Will you make gunpowder?” He just asked again.

“Did you save me because of this? When I said that I was a scientist, did you decide that I would make you gunpowder?”

“No. I pulled you out of there because I felt very sorry for you. About gunpowder it occurred to me later. And now I regret that I succumbed to emotions then!”

“No, don't be sorry! I will do!”

“Let's see,” Lis handed him a mask. “Put it on.”

And Marcus, unable to restrain himself any longer, wept bitterly:

“I can't do this… all this… my whole life… it was as if it was crossed out, on the day they grabbed me there, in the cave…”

“Well, why the hell are you going there alone, and even so far away? You entered their territory.”

“I studied stone flowers,” Marcus looked at the cabinet, inside which behind glass doors, interspersed with all sorts of artifacts, there were several stone flowers. “This… Nikto needs drugs? A stone flower is suitable for this. You just need to dry it and crush it. Or if you are sorry to ruin completely, cut slightly and collect the juice.”

“Marcus, you got me sick with your fauna!”

“Flora.”

“Stop shedding tears, it has already happened! And it was foolish to think that the unclean would chat with you, listen to your lecture on stone flowers and let you go. Your naivety has ruined you.”

“Yes,” Marcus agreed bitterly, awkwardly smearing tears across his face, trying to wipe them away, but he couldn't, because they continued to flow from his eyes, and he was unable to calm down. “But what you did to me, you… you look at me… everyone was laughing. Why aren't you laughing?”

“There’s nothing funny at all, dry your tears. If you shed tears in a mask, everything inside will be wet and very unpleasant.”

“I know,” Marcus sobbed convulsively.

“You can't help yourself with tears.”

“They… they got me dirty, not only my face, touched me, and inside too… they got all dirty, I can't forget it!”

“Stop your hysteria,” said Lis sternly. “The importance of it is not great. You shouldn't attach such great importance to this. It's just a body, the main thing is that your brains aren’t spoiled. Everything else is fixable. Feel less sorry for yourself.”

Lis looked at Marcus very seriously.

“Don't betray me,” he said again. “Don't make me believe the Demon is right.”

And, without putting on a mask on Marcus, he went out, closing the door behind him with a key.

He went down to the courtyard, where on the square lined with slabs Nikto and Kors gathered all their soldiers and were already waiting for him. And as soon as Lis came out, both the unclean and the mercenaries of Kors, the noble black ones, cried out:

“Hurray!”

They loudly, joyfully greeting their commander. The servant let the horse down. Lis jumped straight into the saddle, without even inserting his leg into the stirrup, the horse danced under him, now and then rearing up, Lis seemed not to notice this, prancing in front of his army:

“I congratulate you on our victory!”

Chapter two

The holiday

Even without having even gathered and buried all the killed, both their own and the reds, immediately after the inspiring congratulations of the commander Atley Alis, they began to drink. There was a lot of space in the Fort, furniture, utensils and supplies too. The unclean ones couldn’t be stopped, however, no one tried to do this. The warriors of Zaf and the remaining ones of Tazh settled in the left wing, but the tables were pulled out to the square, and they immediately began playing music, took several red maids and slaves. All women found in the Fort were spontaneously divided equally between the unclean and mercenaries. There were very few women in the Fort, literally a dozen maids and the same number of slaves. But the unclean were still satisfied with this, although the maids were frankly so-so. The mercenaries of Kors were located in the central part and annexes to the right. They remained about two-thirds of the original strength, and thus, Vitor Kors still had the largest number of soldiers. The black and the unclean, no matter how they fenced them off from each other, nevertheless, willy-nilly intersected, and in the limited space of the Fort it was simply impossible to do anything about it, so this question was also allowed to flow. Now, drunk with victory and a joint assault, the people and the unclean got along. Although most of the blacks held their celebration in the right wing, many went out to the square, mixed with the unclean. In the main hall, tables were set for the elite: commanders and those who distinguished themselves during the assault. Here were all the surviving militias of the prince, their commander Shrad, and between him and Seamus sat satisfied Anya, a gold chain glittered on her neck, a beautiful pendant lay between her lush breasts. There sat also a noseless boy, the one who, during the storming of their first Fort, far from the border, was frightened by the “shooting sticks” of the reds and fled from the battlefield, for which he was severely punished by the lynching of the militia. This time he fought desperately, was not afraid for his life and, under a hail of arrows, made a fire in time, giving a sign to the warriors of Tazh and Tarl. Now, sitting at the table, he was already pretty drunk, and his face, tied with a wide strip of black cloth covering the severed nose, was joyful. There was also a chef from the transporters, who was dressed up in the clothes of a warrior and put to Tazh’s detachment for “extras”, but this no longer young man entered his role so much that he fought on a par with others and even managed to kill several reds. Marmer, who had been wounded, and several of his remaining soldiers were also there. Everyone ate and drank and enjoyed themselves.

Holding a bowl filled with food from the holiday table, Lis came to Marcus. Seeing him, Marcus jumped up from his chair, his face was still the same bewildered and frightened:

“Forgive me for what I was talking then, I was not myself…” He began to say.

“Have you done anything?” Lis asked, and it was clear that he was only worried about this.

“Yes.”

“Show me.”

Marcus poured powder on the tip of a knife into a wide stone mortar, very little, literally a few grains, and set it on fire with a thin wick, dropping it into the bowl. The powder flared brightly, a loud bang was heard, and the room was clouded with smoke. Lis looked at Marcus, as if he could not understand how such a small amount of powder made such a fire:

“You did better than the reds,” he said, dumbfounded.

“Thank you,” Marcus shyly dropped his eyes.

Lis seemed to come to his senses and, grabbing a bowl of food, quickly shoved it to Marcus: