pulled down a shirt from a weak-willed body. The wolfhound noted about himself that Evrikh
breathed surely and exactly, and lips from gray became just pale.
The Arrant looked hungry, exhausted and weakened, but in any way not
dying. The wolfhound frowned. Perhaps this endured tension joked with
to them jokes, allowing to see what he wanted to see?. Niilit quickly
unwound a loincloth of an arrant. Nakedness of the sick man for it
little meant.
The wide wound which was just gaping in a lean stomach of Evrikh, almost
dragged on. The deep scratch which was slightly exuding with an ichor - and nothing
it is more. Except for prints of the palms of Tilorn allocated on
to pale skin, as two red solar burns. The skin will get down, solved about
Wolfhound...
He turned back to the scientist, and very in time: that slowly settled on
floor. The wolfhound raked up it in an armful and felt a considerable temptation to put
what follows the unfortunate magician a box on the ear. As it was vague for it
made Tilorn, he understood one: before resorting to vital
to strength of friends, the wise man took out own nearly to the bottom.
- You what over himself made?. - the Wolfhound began to roar. Gods see: be it
it is half so evil during a duel with two-color, to lie to that on
scaffold split into forty nine pieces. - I ask you! Again
went blind?.
- No. That is I... - Tilorn justified himself. - Several days, and I will be
as it should be...
- Now, - the Wolfhound through clenched teeth told it. - You will make it
now.
Most of all he was afraid that Tilorn will say no, and everything will come to an end in it.
Tilorn not from those who can be forced.
- Then... - the scientist answered with the asking voice, unsuccessfully endeavoring
to unclench fingers of the Wolfhound on the shoulders. - Then... When you sleep
and properly you sing...
- I told, now, - the Wolfhound repeated. He knew that he does
nonsense that Tilorn was right... that such affairs it is better too
to be engaged when it is full and strong... But could do nothing with itself.
Only to think that hardly begun to come to life Tilorna again waited
helpless weakness... blindness... - I told, now!
If he understood something in people, it became a shame to Tilorn. Thought,
probably, that to force friends to potter anew with powerless is
too. Weak fingers braided wrists of the Wolfhound... Once on hands at
Gray Dog the person whom he of veins considered the friend died. Too,
by the way, arrant. Died, tortured by excessive work and miner
the cough which ate away lungs. As the Grey Dog asked Gods, asking to take
and to give a particle of its force to the twenty-year-old old man, not
looked before death at the sun... He also coughed after a beating,
but was not going to die. And, of course, to treat magic, with
heaven he was not able to talk still. But to assume that
Tilorn... that it again...
This time he did not begin to blink and saw how little by little
paint to pale cheeks of Tilorn as began to inflame live flowed
eye light. It, except the increasing weakness and a chill in
backbone, did not feel anything special. It is visible, Tilorn to death
was afraid to damage to it. Here now he will open a mouth and will tell: "Everything, will be enough".
Having understood it, the Wolfhound squeezed his wrists and a pressure more strong as was able,
will, endeavoring to pour, transfer Tilorna... goodness knows what...
- Everything, will be enough, - Tilorn quietly spoke. - I am not a ghoul
some. Also released hands.
- And well get up, - the Wolfhound ordered. - Walk. Tilorn obediently
rose, stepped to a window and returned.
- You and from the very beginning so could? - sitting on a floor, the Wolfhound asked.
There was no wish to rise to it. - What you at once?.
- I... - Tilorn hesitated. - I did not consider convenient...
- Preferred to go on me astride, - the Wolfhound hemmed.
Tilorn at first was confused and reddened, but then shook the head.
- I think, my friend, - he told, - it would take away from you much more
forces, than burden of my transitory body.
The wolfhound contemptuously twisted lips. To rise with a floor to it, however
still there was no wish. Actually, he was not even quite sure that
will manage to rise. Last time with it there was similar when he got out
from the Cannibal's lock - with the rumpled edges and in bubbles from burns. Then to it
too there was a wish only for one... to close eyes and to sleep, sleep...
The sudden thought burned it: if with it such, that with Niilit?.
It tore apart the eyelids which were in time to stick together. To his surprise, Niilit was on
legs and vigorously scurried about about the room. He heard as at a door knocked
children's hand, also turned the head. Niilit slightly opened a door. In a crack
three curious boyish mugs, but greedy flashed at once
curiosity was instantly erased by horror. Children love terrifying stories, love,
that they were slightly scared. But when terrible happens in life...
Books hard thumped about a floor, and the topotok of barefoot heels promptly was removed
along the corridor. Then Avdiki's voice was heard. Young сегван Niilit helped
to collect books and introduced them in the room. The room interior resembled more
on the battlefield, but Avdike was not to get used. Niilit grabbed a rag and
disappeared behind a door. To wipe up ran, the Wolfhound thought. In the same place everywhere
spots - both on a vskhoda, and in the yard, and on a pavement... Avdika saw off
girl eyes.
- Well, anything, - Tilorn's voice reached. - Now to both of them only
to sleep and...
In a dream you perceive everything as due, and the Wolfhound not especially
was surprised, having seen itself. However then made out that on that, another,
there were painfully ridiculous clothes: entirely leather, not divided into trousers and
shirt in addition not girded.
- Well? - the unknown guest grinned. - You learn? The wolfhound silently looked
on it, without knowing how to answer. And whether it is necessary to answer in general.
That sighed, made some movement... and before a wolfhound it appeared
its sword passed in a brand new leather sheath.
- Now you learn? - again becoming the person, the sword took an interest.
The wolfhound only also was to ask:
- Why you are similar to me?.
- And whom to me, your way, to resemble? - that hemmed. - On Zhadobu?. -
Thought and added: - If you want to know, we with you are similar. I too long
lived underground.
- You put in a grave? - at once the Wolfhound guessed. - Whom was he?
The sword crossed legs, being arranged more conveniently.
- He was a son of a bolshukha of a genus of the Hedgehog. In twelve years to it named a name, and
they with the father went to a genus of the Starling - to ask a beads from the daughter local
madams. It just jumped that spring in a poneva...
The wolfhound remembered the white girl who presented him sparkling
crystal pea, also smiled. To it, the little one, will weave a poneva still
year so
through three. Then will come it it is time to give a clear bead to that,
who is worthy. Whether she will remember a casual meeting in "White Kone"? Or
will listen to mother who for certain will tell her that that bead is not considered?
Or perhaps after all will not forget an old apple-tree and the Grey Dog whom not
it was necessary to be afraid?
Sometime he will find for it...
- The hedgehoglet, was pleasant to Skvorushke, - continued a sword. - Them it is good
accepted. But for the third day to the village the mad wolf ran. The hedgehoglet was
strong and brave fellow. He oboronit the girl and stabbed an animal,
but sweat managed to bite it.
The wolfhound silently nodded. He saw a mad wolf and remembered how slightly
did not die of fear.
- He died, and Skvorushka took in marriage his brother, - told a sword. -
Because now at them knew - who such Hedgehogs. But before both sorts
sent to the great smith and asked to shape a sword which there is no need
would be to be ashamed also to a knes.
We were the best smiths always. Gray Dogs, the Wolfhound thought.
- Grey Dogs were the best smiths then, - told a sword. - They even not
put brands on the swords, and it was so clear to the knowing person who
shaped. So I was born. I was buried together with the Hedgehoglet, and I
lay underground two hundred years. The grave was ruined by Zhadoba, and in his hand I
for the first time tried blood.
He said it with such disgust that the Wolfhound did not keep and
told:
- All swords shed blood.
- Swords execute for what they were forged, - sounded in reply, - Me
made in order that I drove away the evil.
- I fought you too, - the Wolfhound noticed. Perhaps to me you... back
to carry?
- That barrow for me - as for you your former house, - the sword answered.
- You will not live more there... It is a pity, not I to the sepulchral thief
cut fingers, - he added with a sigh. - All right, thanks Created Us and
that you fight it is not worse than others...
The wolfhound kept silent.
- We, swords, do not love injust hands, - told its surprising
interlocutor. And again accepted the true appearance, but a voice, ringing
the voice of figured steel, continued to sound: - You saw how I threw
Zhadobu. And I will not abandon you until you begin to disgrace me...
Everything blurred. The wolfhound turned over on other side, and any dreams
he was not visited any more.
Without having woken up plainly yet, the Wolfhound understood that he remained in the room
one. And still that hour was not early. Smelled of a cooking, the scratch reached
floor boards, a voice, someone's laughter, from time to time - bark of dogs and shout
rooster. Life of Gostiny dvor took its course.
There was no wish to rise to death, and the Wolfhound afforded rare
pleasure: several blissful moments between wakefulness and
dream...
And right there on it cough pulled hard.
He sat down, hasty throwing up palms to the person, and at once thought that
yesterday's self-confidence threatened it to cost much. It was at all not
that cough which incidentally caught cold punishes the person.
It miner dampness and darkness gave a vote. The wolfhound knew: still
one or two years on penal servitude and to lie to it somewhere in dumps, on eternal
mountain frost. He was lucky. Gods brought him to freedom. But those, whose
art drove away from it death, warned, almost like a knesinka
Елень: keep yourself, the Wolfhound. He only nodded. Affairs in life at it
remained a little. To become the soldier. And to find for the Cannibal. And further...
He ran a hand over lips and looked at a palm. The palm was pure.
So far.
So, yesterday he after all overstrained. And on own
nonsenses. Fought on a duel. Helped the sorcerer to drag from the next world
wounded arrant. Made presentable the sorcerer. And all in one
morning. To complain there is nobody.
Nonvolatile Mysh jumped off from a perch as which he served thick wooden
the nail, and plaintively began to squeak, nestling on a breast of the Wolfhound. Venn grinned
also stroked the small animal trying to share with him heat. Just as
once.
- Here so, - he told Mysh. - The wing will be necessary to you somewhat quicker
to correct.
As he also expected, Tilorn with Evrikh and Niilit were found below. They
sat at a little table near a window, open on the yard which is filled in with the sun, and about
something with enthusiasm talked. The puppy lay on a floor at legs of Niilit. Wolfhound
nodded and came to light.
He washed with frenzy, having over and over again a shower bath cold well
water and until red tearing skin a shabby towel. Then returned in
tavern.
- Fir-trees? - having stopped at a table, he asked the.
- Thanks!. - chorus Niilit and Tilorn responded. Evrikh indecisively
smiled. He did not understand yet how to behave with the Wolfhound.
Veins Mysha on a table put off and went to a rack. Once it is long
deliberated whether permissibly to let a small animal on the table esteemed at it
the God's people the Palm, or it was necessary to feed it on a floor. Then
saw enough as in roadside taverns this Palm beat being drunk
fist, scratched knives, and even simply profaned... also decided that from
clean little Mysh her precisely any offense will not be. And
whether with God's Palms any live creature ate...
The servant stood behind a rack to it a back, having leaned the elbows on smooth
and stirring a waxed board with the dishwasher who looked out to take rest.
- The wood was brought from Green Lakes, - she explained to the girlfriend, probably
retelling slyshanny from someone from lodgers. - Walk, speak,
passion! Though we would be bypassed. Moving men are local...
The wolfhound rummaged in a burse and quietly told:
- Make favor, the beauty, feed.
- Mister was not shown since day before yesterday morning, - turning to
to it, the pink-checked young servant, and the Wolfhound playfully giggled
was late thought that overslept nearly two days. - Mister, probably
it was busy with something... very tiresome...
- Give a milk mug if is, - the Wolfhound told. - Still piece of bread
and saucer.
- Perhaps, fried eggs with fat? - the servant asked.
At the thought of the bubbling eggs and the fat hot sizzling on a frying pan
at the Wolfhound slobbers began to flow. It mentally weighed the purse. Money,
what was counted to it by Fitela, thawed slowly, but is inevitable.
- Milk and bread, - he repeated. - On two copper coins.
Holding edge sharp-clawed bends of wings and having lowered a muzzle in
saucer, Nonvolatile Mysh ate greedily a favourite delicacy: the bread soaked in
milk. The wolfhound chewed the hunk, washing down from a mug. He very much loved
milk. And always remembered how for the first time in plenty got drunk it, having left from
mine. Milk was remarkable, from magnificent mountain meadows, - pair,
curative, fat. But what became after that in his stomach which weaned from
human food!.
- How you feel? -
Tilorn asked. It was not necessary to a wolfhound
to look in a mirror. He knew that looks nasty. He shrugged shoulders.
To lie it was not learned, so, the conversation should have been directed in
other course. It raised a finger the far-away country of a saucer that to Mysh
it was more convenient, and told:
- I bought a needle with a thread, brought wine. When you sew?
Tilorn ran a hand over a beard, and the Wolfhound noted about himself that nails
at it on fingers almost absolutely grew. Tilorn thought and nodded:
- Perhaps, though today.
The wolfhound silently nodded in reply. Not to confess that is deep in
stomach it became suddenly empty and it is cold.
- Allow to ask... - carefully Evrikh coughed. - About what
sewing there is a speech?
- It is about that this little man of courage started over again
to fly, - Tilorn told. - At it if you noticed, the wing is torn.
Now will eat up, and I will show you.
Truly did not take out a mouse when he was disturbed behind food. But here from a saucer
the last droplet disappeared, and the small animal complacently allowed the scientist
to stretch the crippled wing on a table. Tilorn began to drive a finger on
the broken-off membrane, explaining to Evrikh in what way he
was going to remake and make skin rags. Evrikh listened carefully
and with obvious knowledge of business, only from time to time tensely frowned
brilliant golden eyebrows.
- Prosveshchenneyshy Aledan, - he noticed at last, - advises to umashchivat
wounds, for their fastest healing, honey.
- Especially old and incurable, - suddenly gave a vote of Niilit. From
nervousness the sakkaremsky accent was more noticeable than usual. - And to just
put Zelkhat Melsinsky advises to put a fresh liver that
current of blood did not extend fever on all body...
She blurted out it uniform spirit and confusedly reddened. Wolfhound
looked at Evrikh and saw how on his face the shadow flew
irritations. Whether to the nice young girl it is worth butting in, say, in
conversation of two men of science? Girls have to be beautiful. Also will be enough with
them.
Then the irritation was gone, having been replaced by amazement and curiosity.
- The name of great Zelkhat, the child is familiar to you? - Evrikh asked. - But
from where?.
Niilit blushed crimson more densely former and even drew near closer to
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