5

Chapter 3

The last day of the journey was unseasonably warm. The sun warmed so gently, as if the month of the melter had been replaced not even by green and to, but immediately by the color of the shadow. The retinues seemed as hot as sheepskin coats, and the future learners threw them off with relief, secretly glad that they did not see their mothers, who would certainly begin to scold. The Krefffs didn’t care, but Lesana and Ailisha, taking advantage of the fact that none of the village gossips would cackle over their ears, took off their headscarves and even slightly loosened their braids.

Tamir, no, no, cast furtive glances at his companions, involuntarily comparing them with each other. What, it would seem, is different: now a girl and then a girl - two arms each, two legs each, a pigtail. But if Lesana - ruddy rich, soft, like a loaf just pulled out of the oven - aroused warm curiosity in the soul of a young baker, then a shy doctor with a gentle blush that illuminates swarthy skin, with dark curls of hair over an open forehead, seemed like a sweet shortbread.

He looked at her as if she were a marvelous delicacy, when one wants to taste it and is afraid to touch it... That's why? And the young man innocently wondered to himself - what's the matter? He looked first at one, then at the other, but did not find the answer. 

He only regretted that he met Eilish here and not in his hometown! Then she would not have known that he was sitting on a horse like a sack of peas...

For the first time in many years, Tamir felt painfully ashamed of his clumsiness, of his loose, swaying body in the saddle. Eh, fate is a villain, why didn’t she allow the girl to show her best side ?!

But in Yelashir, Tamir, the son of the baker Strok, was known as a skilled baker. The fame of him spread throughout the city, so much so that the mayor Khlyud himself did not disdain to go into Strokovich's shop. When trading guests came, the guy did not leave the stove at all. His honey gingerbread was taken away in whole boxes ...

And now he dreamed of treating Eilish with those gingerbread, so as not to seem completely useless to her. Tamir understood that people like him evoke laughter and pity rather than admiration. How many times in his childhood he was beaten for his sluggishness and extra body by the neighbor's tomboys! Mother almost every day shed tears, applying plantain to the bruises and abrasions of her beloved child.

When Tamir grew up, his father gradually began to introduce him to the tribal business. It was then that strong Strokovsky roots showed themselves. Who knows, maybe the heir would have worked in his father's bakery, delighting the neighbors with either rich larks, or honey gingerbread, or pies, but in the winter a baker named Radim came to Yelashir. He arrived, even from Stargr itself, yes. I tasted, as a guest at relatives, cakes from the Strokova shop and sipped.

Neighbor Strok said, rounding her eyes and waving her arms: “He rolled his eyes and asked my Stenka, they say, who is so skillful with you? When she said that your boyfriend was not even seventeen, she didn’t believe it!

Radim, you see, really decided that his relatives were prevaricating, for in the evening he was knocking on the Strokov gate. For a long time, the Stargrad baker persuaded his parents to give Tamir. Stargrad is big and rich. One township yard is almost the size of a third of Yelashir, and an intelligent baker is needed there. A guy will eat and sleep on gold if he goes under Radimov's hand.

But mother and father rested: how to let go of the little blood in such a distance, you never know what will happen to the precious on the road, al in a foreign land. What cold! But the son looked at his parents with sick eyes, and they did not have the will to refuse at all. They asked Radim to wait for spring.

If you knew what would happen...

But then the day came for Tamir to say goodbye to his stepfather's house and to Yelashir. Mother equipped the child for the journey. He had to go with a merchant convoy to Stargrad itself, where Radim was waiting.

The mother had no more tears left to cry, the father seemed to have shrunk all over, having aged a dozen springs in the evening, and the son’s heart was torn between dream and duty. Yelashir, what? Whether business mighty populous Stargrad!

The whips were already cracking, the lead cart slowly set off, but then a kref drove into the square.

It was not the first time the guy had seen the mentor of the Citadel, but again he was surprised at how he turned out to be ... inanimate. The face was frozen, but the eyes ... oh, and they were evil! The noisy square was silent. The sorcerer cast a heavy glance around the silent people and, without uttering a word, went to the posadnik's house.

- The dogs brought him, he could not come later! - the owner of the convoy cursed in his hearts and, reluctantly, ordered the horses to be unharnessed, all the same, as long as the kref is in the city, it is strictly forbidden to leave.

All day long, the merchants and townspeople commemorated the shopkeeper's son, Zhupan, with an unkind word, that he foolishly drowned, causing a lot of trouble to his compatriots. When the sun turned for spring, this empty-headed man was too lazy to reach the bridges that connected the two banks of the river flowing through the city. I trampled on the ice. And he take it and break through under the fool, only a three-piece sheepskin flashed.

I had to call the sorcerer from the guard trio, so that he would raise the drowned man from the bottom with his rites. 

Oh, and then the men cursed, crumbling loose ice with axes and picks. No one wanted to climb into the icy water to catch a bitch. But they understood that there is nothing more terrible than a body not buried according to the rite. You'll get a living dead in three days. Will roam, look for prey. Therefore, the Yelashir people worked evil, swearing, but they did the job. There's nowhere to go...

Praise to the Guardians, pulled out! The nauznik whispered with all due care, and that was the end of it all. 

And so, the kref appeared. For Zupan. And Zhupan drowned. And it's been buried for several months now. He sleeps for himself, damned, in peace, so that he fails.

Only the baker Strok and his wife rejoiced at the arrival of the sorcerer - after all, he gave them a small reprieve, kept his son at home. Only the guy was maetno. He's been waiting so long, now what? Again sit. For now, kref will look at everyone ... Eh! 

Obereznikov's brides dragged on day after day and it seemed that there would be no end to them. At the end of the week, they finally gathered the entire Tamirova Street on a small patch in front of the posadnik's house. Kreff indifferently examined the people standing in front of him, sliding his prickly eyes from one face to another. Tamir shifted impatiently - if only it were all over, let's go... But the sorcerer suddenly glared at him and nodded:

- This.

The mother's legs broke. Father and he swayed, tearing the collar of his shirt. Hlyud muttered a quick toast of thanks, and the kref, whom he called Donatos, told him to be ready to leave in half a turn.

I didn’t have to collect the travel bag, it was already stale for so many days.

Without really saying goodbye to his parents, still not fully understanding what had happened, Tamir found himself outside the gates of Yelashir.

He seemed to be numb, there were no thoughts left in his head. Emptiness. Reason could not accept such a revelation: he is Tamir, the son of the baker Strok, the only child of his parents - fat, sick, clumsy, constantly suffering from shortness of breath and suddenly ... Autumn? That cannot be!

But even with his petrified consciousness, the guy understood that the krefs were not mistaken. Never. And if he was chosen, then training in the Citadel is ahead. But what about Stargrad, Radim? How about mother and father? All their joy is a son. And suddenly be separated for five springs! Will they survive? It's one thing to know that the only child is warm and well-fed, and another thing is to study in the Citadel, you don't understand who.

It was then that Tamir plucked up the courage to ask his silent companion who he was destined to become. Donatos looked at him with leaden eyes and replied:

Nobody for the first year. And then we'll see.

These words reassured the boy. What are you really excited about? Probably, they will send to healers to learn how to put poultices and brew potions. Why to them? Yes, because, frankly, a warrior or a sorcerer from a portly, clumsy Tamir will turn out to be laughing. So thought the young wanderer. For now, the road lay before him. And the road that stretched through the forest.

There has never been a young baker in such a deaf thicket - never happened. That is why it seemed as if every twig strives to catch on clothes, and every bump to knock the clumsy rider out of the saddle. But only when they stopped for the night, and Donatos drew a protective circle, Tamir became truly scared.

Krefff slept peacefully, and his foundling lay and, dying, listened to how an invisible creature howled in the thicket, how deadwood rustled under someone’s feet, or paws, watched how green eyes burned with hunger a few steps from the parking lot. And yet, it seemed as if someone was calling Tamir, thinly, affectionately, singsongly.

He shivered, tightly closed his eyes, hoping to fall asleep, but with his eyes closed it became even more terrible. It seemed as if the greedy hands of the Walking Ones were stretching out of the darkness. There was not enough air, horror squeezed his throat. Tamir was noisily breathing intermittently, his body was trembling. Donatos immediately got up, went up to the ward and, half-heartedly kicking him in the ass, hissed:

"Shut up before you choke me!" No one will touch you, but you won’t let you sleep - I’ll throw you out of the circle!

After that, the sorcerer returned to his felt and immediately fell asleep.

But Tamir never closed his eyes - he tried on the pain left by the kref's boot, but held on to the amulet under his shirt. The next morning, when the wanderers left the camp, the young man noticed a torn hare not far from the embankment...

Yes ... the road was hard - longing burned the heart, doubts and fears corroded the soul. Therefore, a meeting with a smiling, warm and so ordinary Lesana became a real joy for the guy, exhausted by fears and lack of sleep. And acquaintance with the shy, thin, like a reed, Eilish, completely inspired Tamir, who was desperate. For some reason, I suddenly dreamed of how they would study to be doctors together ...

* * *

The high iron-studded gates were black with age. But the tree did not dry out, but, on the contrary, seemed to be petrified. You can’t suddenly break these out, and it will take remarkable strength to open them.

Travelers were opened after the third blow. Two strong guys in the same gray clothes as Donatos's, with effort, parted the heavy sashes. Tamir noticed how the sorcerer twitched the corner of his mouth contemptuously and said to one of the gatekeepers:

- What, Velesh, while I was gone, I suppose, did not lift anything heavier ...?

Tamir's ears perked up. He could not even think that the man was kreff! - can utter such shame in front of three girls.

Klesh just chuckled. And the guy to whom this rude remark was thrown answered politely:

Welcome back, mentor.

The travelers slowly entered the courtyard of the Citadel.

Lesana opened her mouth. She, who grew up in the village, did not understand how such walls could be built? Well, what kind of strength do you need to have in order to drag huge cobblestones to the very top? How much stone do you need and where to get it? It was not known to the girl that in the surrounding forest there was a quarry, in which those who were punished for misconduct often broke their backs.

So everything amazed her so far. And high towers, and a stone well in the middle of the courtyard, and a cobblestone pavement, and even powerful pillars dug along the walls. True, the new arrivals did not understand why they were needed.

And here the gray lichen crawled along the walls, which is found in the forest, where the stone foreheads of layered boulders stick out of the ground. Surprisingly, there was no greenery in the Citadel. No blade of grass, no bindweed. Everything here breathed cold, and each soft step answered the stepping foot with a booming echo. A stronghold that cannot be destroyed. High walls that cannot be overcome. Huge gates that cannot be opened alone.

Here you can not be afraid of Walkers, not be afraid of the night. Here is Lesana, stupid, that she did not want to come here! And the wanderer smiled joyfully, turning her head to the right and left, but Kleskh's hard look somewhat cooled the enthusiastic ardor.

Sliding off her filly, the girl stepped onto the paved yard. It seemed that here it is - a fairy tale! Here it is - a miracle! Even my heart skipped a beat!

But suddenly, quick shadows flickered overhead and a rusty scream echoed over the Citadel. Lesana opened her eyes in horror and they reflected black birds soaring in circles. Crows... Harbingers of death, scavengers. Their hoarse voice fell from the sky, echoing. Where are these nasty birds from? And why won't anyone chase them away? Cold sweat trickled down between her shoulder blades. Everyone knows: where the raven circles, death walks there.

As if from afar, the girl heard the rattle of a bolt being drawn. And my heart was pierced by a bitter foreboding. As if the slammed gates cut off the three new inhabitants of the Citadel forever from the joy of life. There, behind the walls, spring remained with its melt water, the first greenery breaking through the torn earth, and the blue sky, as if tinted with azure. And then in the yard suddenly breathed a dull autumn.

Gray pavement. Gray moss-covered walls, gray roofs, gray towers. All of a sudden, there was a smell of dampness, coldness and .... tangible despair, which seemed to make nests in ancient stones.

One of the ravens flew down and, landing on the well cover, stared at Lesana with shining iridescent eyes like blueberries. The girl backed away, habitually squeezing the amulet given by her fiancé. Could it be that the raven, who is also called the messenger of those who walk, sensed in her a quick sacrifice?

- Well, shoo! Eilisha shouted and swung at the bird.

The raven lazily took off, but did not fly far, landed on one of the pillars, from where it croaked loudly and piercingly several times, as if mocking at a feeble attempt to frighten him.

- Where are they from? Lesana asked in a dead voice.

– What are you afraid of? Tamir patted her on the shoulder. Think bird.

But despite these words, he himself was pale.

“Enough scratching your tongues,” Kleskh, who approached, interrupted the conversation.

Behind the kref stood a tall fair-haired and light-eyed young man, dressed in a black shirt and black trousers.

“Febr, give them clothes, take them to our barn, then to the soap house, then to the healers, to the refectory, and when they have eaten, take them to the wing for the first years and put them in. Come on quickly. We were the last to arrive.

The boy nodded curtly and beckoned the newcomers to follow. Hurriedly, all three of them followed him. We dived into the shadow of a high arch, passed several stone passages, and along long corridors lit only by bright strips of light falling through narrow windows, hurried deep into the Citadel.