The Mist and the Lightning. Part V - Ви Корс

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and pressed his lips to the cold, scalding water. Drinking was uncomfortable. His mouth was as broken as everything else, like legs and eyes. On the one hand, the lips did not move, and therefore icy water flowed on his chin, flowing under his clothes. Making the last sip, he strongly threw back his head and realized that she’d seen that. She saw the part of his face. His mandible is torn from the right side. He saw her eyes widen, she recoiled, apparently already regretting that she had given him water. And at this moment other people, men, appeared.

      That's all he could say about them, they were lit by the last rays of the setting sun, and he could not see them. But there was no fear, nothing again.

      “What happened?” – one of the men asked. He was breathing heavily, and a stick was squeezed in his hand.

      “Here it is. He wanted water. I was afraid that he would pollute our well. Do you see the way he dressed? And I was right, under his mask there is some sort of tripe on his face. Maybe a leprosy or a plague! If only he did not turn out to be plagued!”

      They recoiled from him, he understood everything, but for some reason did not feel the slightest desire to respond. Just tried to get up, but fell. And they bounced off him even further.

      "Really sick!”

      "I'm telling you! As soon as I saw him going to the well … Gods, Gods, for all goodness, protect us from the plague!”– the woman began to lament, sobbing. He really felt her fear.

      "Hey, you! Get out of here! ”– the man swung his stick threateningly. Arel had a sword. Arel knew that a sword was fastened under his cloak behind his back, but he didn’t even try to get it, he didn’t even move.

      And now this indifference, this desolation began to frighten him. It was necessary to act, but Nikto, in whose body he was, did nothing.

      “He has white hair, see?!”

      "Maybe half-breed?"

      "Lost her mind! There is no such hair, he is probably gray … "

      "And the half-breeds?"

      "He is gray! Hey, old man, go to the temple and ask for alms there, but here you have no place!”

      "But he does not look like an old man!"

      "What shall we do?"

      They huddled together, deliberating. He heard only fragments of their phrases: “Beggar? Old man? Maybe he fluent? Half-breed? Plague?

      Infection".

      And he got up. And tries to go away. And they, seeing how awkwardly he tightens his lame leg, recoiled from him even more.

      They did not ask him, why? They were lost in conjectures, but it never occurred to them to talk to him. Didn’t they consider him a person too? Did he feel like a man himself? Same as these people? They were like in another world, as if behind glass, and he had no desire to break this barrier and become one of them. Their attitude towards him did not jar him, did not upset and did not excite. Arel would probably feel the same if a homeless dog banged him on the street. So what? He would immediately forget about it. These people were just as distant, alien and not worth the attention for him now. Just a given. It would be foolish to react to the dog; he was just as indifferent to the humiliation of these people. He did not consider anything; he simply did not notice him. So, he did not care what happens to him and around him.

      And Arel suddenly felt uneasy. He must wake up! Wake up!Wake up! And it was not freedom! Imaginary freedom! It was a captive! And he is not Nikto! He is the prince of Arel! Prince Arel, who thinks, makes

      plans and takes offense at people, because they are not indifferent to him and he is one of them! And he does not want to be different anymore!

      “I want to be myself again!”

      And he screamed.

      Hard hands shook him, what was the strength in them! The iron bars of the lattice are expanded, if necessary. This is Nik.

      “Arel?” – he asks in a calm, everyday voice, he has long been accustomed to the fact that Arel often jumps up screaming at night.

      And as confirming that everything is as usual, Arel jumps out of bed, despite the dizziness, which makes it darker in the eyes.

      Nikto fits to the side again, tucking the mutilated half of his face into the pillow, but does not close his eyes. His eyes glitter in the dark, and he watches Arel light the candles, fumble around the table, rattling the bottles.

      "What are you looking for?"

      "Food!"

      "?"

      "I feel bad! I need to eat! I need to put myself in order! I … I do not want, do not want to become like you!"

      Nikto is yawning.

      “I see,” – he says indifferently. Another Arel nonsense, well, he has long been accustomed to this.

      "Heck! There is nothing here! Nik!"

      "Arel, we have no food here."

      “And when did you eat?”

      “Yesterday, we ate …”

      “Nik! You are hungry!"

      Nikto laughs softly and says nothing.

      "What did you eat?"

      Nikto thinks for a second.

      “Vegetables, I don’t remember the name, they were completely rotten,”

      – he laughs again.

      “Did you eat rotten vegetables ?!”

      “The servants fired them; we all ate. And you too."

      Arel makes a movement of the head, as if it drives away the annoying fly from itself.

      “And I?”

      “Yes.”

      “And Enriki?”

      “And Henrik.”

      “Does he again inject himself with "water"?”

      “Yes,” – Nikto replies, the illogicality of Arel questions does not bother him.

      “I promised you the golden mountains when I took you to the team, promised profits, lands, slaves! And what is the result! Rotten vegetables!’

      “Carrot.”

      “What?”

      “I remembered there were carrots, and …”

      “Stop doing that! Stop it, Nik, I'm ashamed!”

      “Take it easy. I picked up pretty well at Dim in the Colosseum.”

      “Yeah! And he gave me everything!”

      “Not all. To restore the streets, you need a lot …”

      “Streets! The streets are eating everything! And my people are starving! I'm a crappy boss! And I am hungry! I need to eat! And have some coffee, do we have coffee? Or water at the worst!”

      Nikto moves his lips slightly, as if uttering a new phrase to himself.

      “I do not want to die! I was a living corpse now, a walking corpse! This is scary! I have to appreciate my body, take care of it! Control it! I need to eat! I want to eat!”

      “Well, go and eat! Who keeps you up! Just do not yell here in the middle of the night!” – Nikto tries to lie down more comfortably, closes his eyes.

      “It

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