The Mist and the Lightning. Part I. Ви Корс

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      "He isn't coming," Enriki said.

      "He will come," Orel argued.

      "If I were him, I wouldn't come," Enriki said. "Definitely."

      "But you are not him!" Orel stabbed Enriki's chest with his finger in annoyance. "You are not."

      "All right." Enriki raised his hands. "Fine."

      A servant brought a tray with wine, bowed and started putting glasses on the table.

      "He's here," Lis said quietly; from his place he could clearly see the entrance. Everyone froze.

      "Is it really him?" Orel asked.

      "I swear. He has your cloak and he's coming right up here," Lis whispered looking down at his glass quickly.

      "Get out," Orel hissed at the servant who dropped the tray and disappeared in a moment. Nikto came up to them.

      "Hello."

      "Hi. Take a seat." Orel pointed at the chair on the opposite side of the table, in the corner.

      The tables here were separated by high walls. Tol got up to let Nikto in. Nikto glanced at Tol and took the offered place without saying a word. When he pushed off the hood and let the cloak slip from his shoulders. Nikto's blonde hair fell onto his forehead, and he shoved it aside with a familiar gesture of his fingerless hand. The only difference was that they had seen his scar then and now his face was hidden behind a black mask.

      "You can take your mask off," Orel said. "It's our place, feel at home here. Besides, it'll be difficult for me to talk to you without seeing your face."

      "Fine." Nikto removed his mask.

      "Care for a drink?" Orel put a glass in front of him. "I think you know what we called you for."

      "No." Nikto took the glass and leaned back in the chair.

      "No?" Orel was slightly surprised.

      "The Unclean gave me a note with time and place."

      "But did you figure out it was from us?"

      "No. But when I saw you, I did."

      "You've come to a meeting without knowing whom you'll meet?" Enriki asked in surprise. "It's not reasonable."

      Nikto smiled.

      "The note was not from you but from my friend, I was going to see him. When I saw you, I understood you found me with his help."

      "Yes, that's right," Orel said. "It was Mark who helped us. And I'll tell you something for you to see that we are frank about it. Before meeting you we gathered some information on you. And…"

      It seemed to Orel Nikto was smiling. But his lips didn't curve, just his eyes sparkled as if laughing. At that moment Orel recalled Mark's words: 'Nikto is reading our thoughts, and I think it is true, he understood what I thought of him.'

      "But you likely know that," he said in confusion.

      "No, I don't. I haven't seen Mark for a long while, just got that note. But I can imagine what he told you of me."

      "Nothing bad, I can assure you!"

      "Well, prince, I don't mind him calling me for a meeting with you – as well as sharing his impressions on me. Let's be done with this topic and talk about business. What is it you want?"

      "We want… well, I think you know what!"

      "Again you say I know. No, I don't. How can I know if you haven't said anything?" Nikto put down his glass. "We want from you guess-what. It could've been funny if it were not coming from you. You know, prince, I start regretting I've come."

      He got up but Tol blocked his way.

      "Nikto, wait, we wanted to invite you on our team. Haven't you read our thoughts?"

      Orel grabbed his head in horror. "To-o-ol!"

      "Well said," Lis added.

      "Read your thoughts?" Nikto sat down again suddenly laughing. Orel raised his head. "Did Mark tell you that?"

      "Yes."

      "I can't read thoughts."

      "You can't?" Tol muttered in disappointment.

      "Did you want me to help you trick rich guys? Too bad, it won't work out, you're mistaken." Nikto finished his wine. "Well, it was nice to see you."

      "Nikto, wait, you have to understand…" Orel started. It seemed his resolution returned to him.

      "I understand, no problem."

      "But it doesn't mean our offer is cancelled."

      "Really? Why would you need a man who cannot read thoughts?"

      "Nikto, stop teasing us. We need you as a warrior, not as a warlock."

      "Both would be better," Tol muttered under his breath.

      "You can just stay with us for a while," Orel said. "If our cooperation doesn't work, you'll leave."

      Nikto looked at Orel and his eyes didn't sparkle mischievously any more.

      "I'm not such a good warrior as you think," he said. "Otherwise I wouldn't have so many scars."

      "Let us judge that," Orel said. He took another glass from the tray left by the servant and put it in front of Nikto.

      Nikto was silent.

      "We own several streets of the Upper and the Lower city. We also take some orders from clients, sometimes think of something ourselves."

      "If you join us, you won't have to do dirty jobs for the Unclean," Tol said with enthusiasm.

      "To-o-ol, shut up," Orel hissed.

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