The Mist and the Lightning. Part III. Ви Корс

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      "Too late! If you don't want to get in trouble, leave now! And never, do you hear, never, come back here! I don't care about your belated repentance, I don't need your apologies. I don't need anything from you! I don't need you!"

      "Bert!"

      "Leave!"

      "And if I don't? What will you do? Kill me? Will you kill you brother? Huh?"

      "I don't have a brother!"

      "I forgive you these words! It is not you who's saying them. My poor, poor little brother, fate was so cruel to you!"

      There was a knock on the door and they heard Orel's voice.

      "Hey, aren't you too noisy there?"

      Prince Arel Chig himself appeared in the doorway.

      "Have you sorted it out, Squint-Eye?"

      "Sweet family arguments," Lis entered the room. "Arel, perhaps we shouldn't hinder them." He gave Berk a fake smile.

      "I'd better leave now," Berk said; there was unconcealed hatred in his eyes when he looked at Orel. "But your time is running out, prince, and I'll take my brother away from you!"

      "What? You want to take him? Then take! But when he has another fit and cut the throats of your entire family, don't beg me to take him back!"

      Berk went pale and left the room quickly without saying another word.

      * * *

      "You have a nice brother," Lis said to Squint-Eye who sat in a kind of stupor. "I haven't ever met him before, he is great! Is he older than you?"

      "Yes," Squint-Eye said lifelessly.

      "But not for much, is he?"

      "For seven years."

      "Really? I would never say! He's a real Black warrior. Tall, handsome, confident. As long as there are such men, neither Red nor Unclean can defeat you."

      "Enough," Orel said seeing Squint-Eye clench. He walked up to him and hugged him gently. "I love you very much, Squint-Eye. I have no better friend than you."

      "Berk and Bert," Lis said. "Shit, it sounds good. You look alike and he loves you despite you being a disgrace of the family. And you? Do you love him, Squint-Eye?"

      "He loves me," Orel said. "Bert loves me. And I won't let anyone have him. Never!"

      * * *

      Berk hugged his son again before leaving.

      "I have to go now but we'll meet soon. Behave and study well."

      The boy nodded.

      "All right, dad, but will you come back to the city for good?"

      "I won't but you'll graduate from the military school and stay here."

      "But you lived here before! The house was burnt, I know, it's because of the uncle, but let's rebuild it and move here!"

      "Haven't we agreed that you won't mention your uncle, or you can't stay here?"

      The boy got frightened.

      "All right."

      "Fine. Well, I have to go."

      "Dad! May I ask you – for the last time."

      "Yes."

      "Why did the uncle want to commit suicide?"

      "What? Who told you such stupid things?"

      "I saw myself, by chance. I didn't want to peep but it happened. His arms…" the boy passed his finger over the inner side of his arm from wrist to elbow, "they are sewn with threads, here and here. Sorry, I didn't want to, I won't ask any more!" He understood his father's expression in his own way.

      Berk hugged him, pressing to his chest.

      "I love you," he said quietly patting his son's unruly hair, closing his eyes. "Everything will be all right," his lips whispered barely audibly.

      * * *

      Leaving his horse, Squint-Eye quickly walked up to the tier he needed along curving streets. In a long black coat and with his face covered he stuck out too much among careless citizens of the Upper City. Many people noticed him and followed him with their eyes. He didn't see it: or rather, he didn't want to see, he didn't care. Dumb indifference overtook his consciousness, and he just walked, neither too fast nor too slowly, walked to a small square Orel had pointed for him. There were a lot of restaurants and small shops that offered their goods right in the street. Under the sounds of music passer-byes warmed up themselves with alcoholic drinks while continuing walking. Squint-Eye turned to one of side streets and stopped. The man he needed wasn't there yet but he would come – a note would make him leave his place. Leaning against a wall of some building Squint-Eye waited. It was getting darker and colorful street lamps hanging in garlands above the street rocked in the wind softly casting bright spots of light at the pavement and at the figure frozen at the wall. It seemed an eternity had passed before the man he needed appeared among infrequent passer-byes.

      Squint-Eye knew his face; he knew all somewhat rich and respectable people in the Upper City. As soon as you gave him a name, he knew who the man was and where he lived. An elderly man walked unhurriedly, smiling and nodding at the acquaintances he met on his way. His house was located a bit down the street and everyone knew him here. Next to him, holding his arm, his young daughter walked. She also was smiling: they were going to visit her fiancé who lived nearby, and it seemed finally her father had warmed up towards him. At least he agreed to meet and talk. To see her beloved and maybe to soften her father's heart at a moment of necessity the girl had convinced him to take her along.

      They likely had noticed Squint-Eye but they didn't pay attention. Their thoughts were too preoccupied with the meeting that waited for them. The man in black moved away from the wall; multi-colored spots of light ran over his covered face. Without paying attention to other passer-byes he walked up to the man and stuck his knife into his chest in one precise, very calm motion. One blow was enough – through the knife Squint-Eye felt the last pumps of the pierced heart; it meant the man was dead. Anyway, Squint-Eye didn't doubt it. He pulled out the knife. The old man's gaze kept holding incomprehension; he slowly collapsed onto the pavement. The girl screamed, loudly, wildly. A few people stopped, turned at her scream. It seemed only now Squint-Eye noticed that the man was not alone. He looked at the girl, and she stopped screaming, backed away but it was too late. Everything happened instantly: she screamed again, not so loudly, and with pain, not with fear. Squint-Eye turned and walked away. Some people ran to the dead man and his dying daughter. They didn't even try to stop him. Someone whistled calling for the guard. Squint-Eye didn't speed up. People who heard screams ran past him from the square; women shrieked.

      Someone shouted: "Hold him! Hold him!" People who ran to the place of the accident literally bumped into Squint-Eye and didn't notice him. Could they even guess that a man who walked so calmly was a criminal? In the square he started pushing his way through the crowd.

      King guards on their horses appeared, they tried to get to the narrow street shouting at people. Someone pushed Squint-Eye so hard that he nearly got under a horse's hooves.

      "Watch out!" the guard yelled.

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