Sensei of Shambala. Book III. Anastasia Novykh

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СКАЧАТЬ curious sight on the yacht. People on the vessel begin to bustle about. Apparently they lowered a lifeboat portside, as because in a few minutes a no less beautiful boat heaved from behind the yacht. It was an unusual boat, with fretted sides and oars as if made in antique style. There were six people in it. One of them, dressed in white suit and wearing a snow-white hat, unlike others was standing, peering at the approaching shore. When the boat came up closer, we were able to observe its passengers more thoroughly.

      At the fore of the boat, there sat a man dressed in black garment, his back turned to us. The man wore funny little thin pigtail on a half-bald head. He sat there like a mummy, without stirring, without turning, as if he couldn’t care less about what was going on there on the shore. In the center of the boat there were four sailors-oarsmen all in full white dress with navy decoration. At the other end of the boat there stood that man in a white stylish suit, from all appearances, the owner of the yacht. His garment accentuated athletic built of his figure. The white hat was pulled over his eyes, concealing them in a mysterious shadow. His head was slightly tilted to side. His jacket was frivolously unbuttoned. His hands were dug in pockets. The man stood steadily in the boat, never caring a bit that he could easily fall overboard from accidental swinging.

      We watched the scene, not knowing what was actually going on. Only Volodya, having sized up the situation adequately, pronounced: “There's something strange about it. Gotta call Sensei.”

      When Sensei and Nicolai Andreevich came by, the boat was already quite near the shore.

      “Who could it be, Sensei?” Stas enquired voicing everyone’s question.

      “Well, we are kind of guests, you know,” Sensei answered somewhat sadly and enigmatically, wiping soiled hands with some rag.

      Unlike us, such a visit did not surprise Sensei one whit. And as it seemed to me, he treated this event as a trivial one, as if such luxurious yachts came by us every day.

      “What d’you mean guests?” akimbo Eugene got on his hind legs.

      “On a nature reserve’s territory?” Nicolai Andreevich specified the question.

      “Well, kind of like that,” Sensei said, looking carefully now at the approaching lifeboat, now at the process of cleaning his hands.

      “But this reserve is only a paper’s reserve! There, how many campers there were at the beginning of the spit.” Victor objected, who specialized in jurisprudence. “Who would ever need this strip of sand in these latter days? Who would guard it, spend money on this desert plot?”

      “That’s right too,” Volodya concurred with him. “At any rate, even if this spit was purchased by some small Soviet chief, would he sail about on such an expensive yacht? No, this no inspection for sure.”

      “Who knows,” Sensei shrugged his shoulders.

      “I’m telling you, he’s a new Russian!” Eugene reminded his version again, looking closely at the man, standing in the lifeboat.

      “What would he need in our wilderness place, among us, aborigines?” Kostya asked, surprised. “Had I had such a yacht, I’d have stopped only in eminent health resort.”

      “Why, it’s such exoticism here with us!” Andrew smiled.

      I looked around and thought: “That’s for sure, our exoticism was really impressive.” It’s not enough that everything around was a mess after the raging element, the entire camp was hung about with our warm sweaters and pants, which made it look like a refuge for the homeless.

      “No, really, what do they need?” even Yura could not contain himself.

      “What, what... They ran out of gasoline,” Eugene cracked a joke as usual. “Look, how well they row, haven't they got a good pair of lungs!?”

      The guys laughed.

      “That’s how it is with our generosity of soul in everything,” Nicolai Andreevich smiled. “Buying yachts, generously celebrating, and ending up in the morning with nothing to pay for gasoline.”

      “That’s true,” Volodya nodded, laughing with the rest.

      When the ship's boat came up, two sailors hopped into water and pulled it up towards the shore on the sand. The passengers got off.

      Contrary to our expectations of the coming ‘negotiators’, the man in the white suit without beating about the bush, as they say, and without eminent introductions of his figure, headed our way first. He seemed to be in his forties. Average height, likable looks. His manly and at the same time charming cast of features could be called ideally regular. An impeccably groomed elegant suit, apparently tailor-made, perfectly harmonized with good-looking tan of his face and hands. On the middle finger of his right hand there gleamed a massive golden finger-ring with an oblong red ruby, adorned with blue stones at its sides. Alongside his confidence and calmness, all appearance of the stranger radiated some indiscernible superiority. From a distance there came a breath of an exceptionally pleasant aroma, probably of his perfume.

      To the left of him, at arm's length, there minced along, like a shadow, a short man in black Chinese kimono. His was definitely of an Orient origin, resembling rather a Chinese or a Mongol. Narrow eyes, broad forehead. Half of his head along with its top was clean-shaven, and this bald spot glared as if polished. The remaining at sides jet-black hair was plaited at the back of his head in a neat little thin pigtail. An affable smile was as if imprinted on his face, his eyes cold and showing no emotion. Unlike his boss, the man inaudibly moved with a slinky gait, stepping barefooted on hot sand.

      Coming closer and catching sight of Sensei among us, the yacht’s owner smiled broadly. He had a charming prepossessing smile. To our unspeakable amazement, this man approached Sensei and greeted him as an old acquaintance in that mysterious for us, melodious language that resembled signing of the birds. Sensei answered something back and shook him by the hand with a trademark grin. It seemed to me that Sensei was not very glad about this meeting. I thought it was, probably, due to not very good news that seemed to have been voiced in the language unintelligible for us. In any case, this awkward tension could be sensed only at some intuitive level as both Sensei and that man spoke with each other smiling.

      After exchanging a few unintelligible remarks in the bird language, suddenly the stranger addressed Sensei in the Russian language, and without the slightest accent at that.

      “I see you are not alone as always? Can the youth be still interested in the East?” he uttered with a friendly smile, surveying our group with either a derisive, or piercing, or studying look.

      “As you see,” Sensei answered.

      The stranger smiled.

      “That’s yesterday. It seems that the trendsetter nowadays in the West.”

      “Well, every man to his taste.”

      “Not that it’s essential..,” and making a pause the unwelcome guest added in a stage tone: “It went clean out of my head, any fashion slowly gets accustomed to in this country.”

      “Exactly.”

      The man looked at our group again, slightly letting his eyes linger on Tatyana and me.

      “Well, introduce me to your friends.”

      Sensei tittered and asked meaningfully: “And how should I introduce you?”

      “Oh, you’re right,” nodded the man vividly, beaming СКАЧАТЬ