Cursed Metal: Exorcist, #1

By Jessica Parkes

Demons from century to century rush into the souls of people from the gray abyss, in which nothing has ever happened and nothing will ever happen... Exorcists and executors save souls of people possessed with prayers and fire and drive the unclean back into the emptiness that created them... and so it had to be until the end of his days.
But a man appeared who could command demons as if by his own vassals. And a new heresy spread like a plague through the cities. And they rose obsessed with the apostate monarch. And old treaties and vows were forgotten, and there was a big war in the air. A war in which the poison and daggers will mean no less than the army and the walls. War of all against all.
What, you ask, does Sebastian Mart have to do with this?
It was not worth him to take out the expulsion of demons, that's all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Stan's Book Shelf
• Release date: May 5, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386304104

Book preview

Prologue

Year 948 from the Great Cathedral.

The month of St. Dominic the Illuminator.

The year nine hundred and forty-eight from the Great Council was remembered by the inhabitants of Lance as a year of crop failure and a year of ignominious termination of the war that had utterly destroyed the continental provinces. The townspeople were agitated by rumors about the soon end of the world, the rural people in their hearts commemorated the dry summer, rainy autumn and early frosty winter. And still - all looked at the sky at the bloody comet promising new troubles. And let no one really could explain what kind of misfortune would soon fall upon the country, there was almost no hope of changes for the better among the subjects of James the Third.

Horsemen, who were sent to bow to the hermit known on the coast, fully felt the bad mood of the locals. Only the owners of taverns and inns, and those with false smiles hid the desire to empty the travelers' bags to the last day, they were happy about them. To beg for a time in a seedy village was an empty idea. The inhabitants, with superstitious horror who were afraid of the evil eye and damage, did not allow strangers even to the threshold.

Too often lately the demonic souls have hit the souls of people. And the monarch acted too rashly, commanding to close the missions of the Order of the Banishing and expel the exorcist brothers from the country. Parish priests were not always able to cast a demon out of a man...

- I look, Patrick, you are not happy already, what did you insist on? - the young man could not resist the hairpin. - Here you freeze yourself something, remember my words...

- I beg you, dear Edward, have pity on my poor heart. - Patrick, Earl Neil, put his hand to the left side of the chest, but his eyes remained cold and passionless.

- Sorry? Why? I did not want to go here. I’m afraid to even think what will happen to my father when he hears about the adventure on which a specific graph had knocked his heir...

And I’m afraid to think what would have happened to a certain heir to the throne, had he met his majesty’s eyes at a time when he wasn’t completely in control of himself. I already had to take care of your overly talkative valet.

With you, Patrick, you will not chat... And at the same time, the monastery of St. Martin is somewhat closer to the capital than this Prigge hole. - The prince spat out the name of a seedy village with undisguised contempt. And you wouldn’t have to swim across Lanmar...

- Precisely, the monastery of St. Martin is too close to the capital. In addition, I am not at all sure that the abbot is capable of removing damage, but he would not have forgotten to inform your priest about it.

- So what? By this time, he had delivered me from the demon...

My dear prince, the birthright does not guarantee succession to the throne! Rumors of obsession are guaranteed to close your way to the throne. And if you add to them the suicide of the spouse, which can hardly be explained only by puerperal fever...

- I have nothing to do with this!

You could have dragged less for court beauties... the count said in a low voice, but he was heard.

- Enough, Patrick! You know very well why the father arranged this marriage. He threw me to the lords from the continent, like throwing a bone to a pack of hungry dogs! Yes, these pompous boobies immediately forgot about the war lost to Norvey, and Duke Reese made such concessions that we could not even dream of! But I know in advance that his daughter will be a sheer witch, I would not come close to her! You see - this bitch even after death continues to spoil my blood!

Your loving, my prince...

- Yes, what's loving?! Witch, she is a witch, and my loyalty would not change her nature!

That's the way it is, but treason is a sin, and any sin opens the way to the soul for demons. There would be no sin, you see, and we would not have to trudge far to distant lands.

- Just don't read my notations! Better explain why we are going to some recluse if we can easily visit the mission of the Order of the Banishing in Nilmar?

The weather is bad for your reasoning ability, my dear prince. Do you want your problem to be instantly known in Akrah? Would you like to be on the hook at Stilg?

But the secret of confession...

- When the secret of confession interferes with state interests, it is customary to forget about it. Meanwhile, everyone knows who the exorcists actually serve. Your father didn’t set them out of the country at all in a fit of a bad mood, as they then sounded like ringing at every corner.

You see conspiracies everywhere!

I live by it, the count frowned. But why are you so opposed to the local hermit? Even exorcists recognized his success in driving out demons!

- The idea to resort to the help of a heretic hurts me!

- Well, then you have one road...

- Where? - interested prince.

- To Norveym. Here, the executor brothers will be surprised...

- Patrick, do not try my patience!

- Should I leave?

- No, demons take you! - Edward snapped and, after a little pause, quietly remarked: - Sorry, Patrick, I just do not want to have any business with an apostate, even if he presents miracles to holiness to the world. As I was told, his reasoning is full of heresy.

Since when have you become so pious? - the count was surprised.

Since this cursed demon has clung to my soul! I do not live now, but I exist...

- you are going to continue to exist? - Patrick said, who recently managed to get used to the sudden changes in the mood of His Highness and did not pay attention to them. - Or do you intend to become Edward the First?

- Where does such a love for rhetorical questions come from? - prince frowned.

But as soon as he was just about to say something disgusting to the count, the forest parted, and the horsemen rode out into a spacious clearing.

- We are on the spot. - Patrick pointed to the dark silhouette of a two-story house.

And this hermit settled well, the prince looked thoughtfully around.

The servant, who had run out of the attachment, deftly took the reins and led the horses to the barn adapted to the stable.

- Welcome! - pointed to the porch of Count Neil.

Only after you, Edward threw back. Having let the count forward, the prince unbuckled his cloak and fastened his sword from his scabbard and threw it back.

- Speak, is it everywhere plots of dreams? - Patrick didn’t miss the opportunity to, and, somehow knocking snow off his jacket, opened the door without knocking.

The prince followed him. He threw the hood away from his head and carefully looked at the spacious room, at the far wall of which a high flame was buzzing in the fireplace. Nearby there was a tall woodpile built of dry firewood, so that the host of the house was greeted with heavy fire. However, the hermit who had come out to the guests was not at all like a man who could be confused by ordinary snowfall.

Your Highness, a man of indeterminate age, dressed in a long flannelette mantle, slightly bowed his head, it is a great honor for me to see you here...

- Really?

Edward threw a wet cloak on the back of the chair and walked to the fireplace. Wondering where the reclusive knows who granted him, he did not think. Ask the name of the owner - too. To what it is.

- Do you have reason to doubt my words? - gently smiled hermit.

- Do I have reason to trust you?

However, it was you who paid me a visit...

- Touche! - Patrick laughed and sat closer to the fireplace. - I hope you will not refuse frozen travelers in a glass of brandy?

Or warmed wine, Edward stared at the host, whose respect for the guests was, without a doubt, ostentatious. Oh, someone, and hypocrites and liars, the prince in his lifetime has seen enough.

- I do not keep in the house intoxicated, - said the recluse politely but firmly. I think that herbal tea will warm you up as well as brandy.

Edward frowned in annoyance, but he accepted the proposed mug, over which light smoke was smoked. Sipped. He frowned. Annoyingly looked at the hermit and slashed off his shoulder:

- Can you help me?

It depends on what you want to receive from me, Your Highness, the owner of the forest dwelling left the direct answer.

- And you do not understand this?

- I understand only that damage has been sent to you. I also see a demon tormenting your soul. Daily prayers for the health of members of the royal family do not yet allow him to gain the proper power...

- Oh, so? - Edward slammed his mug in irritation. - To gain due to strength? Is that what you call it?

It doesn't matter how I call it, it’s important that I can stop it. I guess you want to get rid of the damage...

- Bravo! - applauded the prince. - My friend, yes you turn out to be a real thinker. And as soon as I guessed?

- Your Highness, are you sure that you want exactly this? - the hermit quietly continued, without paying the slightest attention to the mockery in the words of the interlocutor.

- What else can you offer me? Turn around and go home?

- Not at all. - The deadpan for a moment left the owner of the house, but he immediately took himself in hand: - Damage can be returned. Damage can be transferred to another person...

- What are you talking abominations! - Edward grimaced and jumped to his feet. - Not! All I want is to get rid of her forever. If you can do it, call your price.

- Not everything in this world is measured by money...

- Do not try my patience!

Listen to me, your highness...

- The conversation here is short: either you can remove the damage, or not!

- Can.

- Then what's the problem?

Before I do anything, I have to explain the possible consequences, the hermit, irritated by the prince’s obstinacy, crossed his arms over his chest.

- Your Highness! - suddenly startled Earl Neil. - Listen to him. No wonder we did this long and, let's say, not a very pleasant way.

- Not sure! - In the eyes of the prince flashed rage, but common sense quickly gained the upper hand. Okay, say what you wanted there...

- First, enlighten what happened to you. I need details.

- Details? - snort Edward. - One witch incited demons against me, that’s all the details!

If you don’t want to talk about it, I'm afraid I can’t help you with anything...

- Aaa, a devil with you! The prince waved his hand. - My spouse was on demolition, when someone scammed all kinds of fictions about her. Births began prematurely, after them she became completely distraught. She refused to look at her son, mumbled something strange about darkness, damnation and retribution. A few days ago she was found strangled with her own silk stole, and on the night after the funeral... on the night after the funeral my soul tried to take possession of a demon!

People often use strength, not fully understanding their nature, the hermit nodded.

- Not fully understanding? - stared at him prince. - Did you hear me at all? She called on my head a demon!

Demons are just particles of the Abyss that inhabit the great emptiness. They have nothing to do with pure Darkness.

- What?! Are you out of your mind?! - jumped like a stung Edward. - Particles of the Abyss? Yes, only the all-night vigil of the royal family did not allow this creature alive to drag me to hell!

- Not so simple, Your Highness. Demons - only clots of force. Not filth, but spawning void! By themselves, these creatures are not good and not bad. Another thing is that they can penetrate only into souls weighed down by sin, because precisely such souls are devoid of integrity. And since sin is initially dark...

- Deliver me from your heretical nonsense! - ordered the prince. - Otherwise, you will go to the fire alive!

- Do not need threats. I'm just trying to help. And casting out a demon is an extreme option. With my help, you can take over him and get his power...

- Shut up! It's out of the question! Deliver me from the damage if you can, and then I will close my eyes to the seditious speeches that you make in my presence!

- I will save you, but who will help the rest of the possessed, whose souls are full of nasty things just because there is no one to take care of them and set them on the right path? - suddenly raised the voice of a hermit. - You are faced with the inhabitants of the Abyss solely because of induced damage, but there are also those who are from birth are endowed with the gift of contact with another world.

- Possessed is a gift? - snorted count Neil.

- Let exorcists be possessed! - cut off the prince.

- Exorcists mutilate souls, burning out of them what they do not understand! - instantly lost her imperturbability to a hermit. - Only executors bring more harm to them, but those initially lead to greed and lust for power...

- And what should I do now, to arrange shelter for the possessed?

The prince grabbed a mug of tea from the table and drained it to the bottom in three sips. Temekko twisted, as if someone had fought in the head, wanting to break out. Edward fished out his rosary from his pocket and frantically began to touch them, trying to calm the heart that was pounding wildly.

No, Your Highness, the hermit shook his head. - The nature of the Abyss must be studied. When we know it, we will change the world! Who needs dead people called saints? We need to build new temples...

- Enough! - The prince struggled to quiver his shiver, squeezing his faceted rosary beads to the pain. Patrick, is he really crazy, or does it just seem to me?

Your Highness, the hermit stepped towards Edward, you simply have no idea what this will give you personally. Demons are not only a curse, but also a weapon. Understanding their nature and using them, you easily crush all enemies...

To begin with, I will have to kill half of my own subjects, the prince replied with a clearly pronounced contempt in his voice. - Everybody will speak against me: the mob, the lords, the Church. Lance and Dragarn also will not stay aside: they have long been sharpening a tooth on our continental provinces, and the war with the heretics is a great reason for a military alliance.

But...

- No but! - could not resist Edward. - Call your price and do not bother me anymore!

- To save you from damage, I will be forced to take it upon myself. - The hermit suddenly calmed down. Green eyes darkened, and then completely changed their shade: one caught fire with yellow light, the second turned gray, like a glass dusted with road dust. However, if you accept my offer...

I will hear about this heresy once more, I will send it to the fire, the prince promised and threw a glove at Count Neil. Where have you dragged me at all?

- What was a big choice? - shrugged the count and rose to his feet. - Name your price, honorable one, or we leave immediately.

The hermit played peeks with the count for a few moments, then lowered his eyes and after a short pause, struck the prince cleanly:

- I want to be your son's mentor.

- What?! Give the firstborn heretic? - Edward from such arrogance was speechless and crawled. Recovering, he threw a tightly-filled purse on the table and pointedly slapped his hand on the hilt of his sword. - Choose: gold or steel.

Your Highness, Patrick grabbed the prince’s hand, that’s impossible!

- You cannot? The prince hissed in the adviser's face. - Can he mock me?

- You cannot administer lynching! If they find out...

I don't need gold, the hermit added to the fire.

Well, then, Edward left the sword alone, you yourself have chosen your destiny. Believe me, I will make sure that even before sunset your dust was blown down to the wind!

I don’t think it’s in your power, the heretic did not fear. Recently, in the domain of Duke Reese, your word means little. He, they say, did not mind the souls in his daughter...

- Oh, you're a scoundrel! The prince boiled and suddenly slapped his forehead. Duke Reese! Well, of course, as I did not immediately realize!

- The boy will receive an excellent education, you can be sure.

My heretic will not teach my son! Never be like this!

Edward grabbed his cloak and strode to the exit, but Patrick caught up with him at the door.

Your Highness, think again, he whispered into the prince’s ear. - From the witch's offspring and this way will not come to sense!

- He is not only her son, but my blood also flows in his veins! - has set siege to count Edward. - Do not forget about it!

But the blood of Rizov is half in it, counted Neil. - Before we leave, think: do you want to present the crown to one of your brothers with your own hands?

- To the demons throne!

- Dear Edward! Pull yourself together! After all, how little can happen while the baby is growing up? None of us is eternal...

But it is true, the prince thought better of it, put a crumpled cape into Patrick, and, returning to the room, put the purse forgotten on the table in his pocket. - Get down, hermit!

- The word is given?

- The word is given!

- Let it be so! - importantly the recluse nodded and extended his hand to the head of the heir to the throne.

Touched.

Edward flinched from disgust, he wanted to move away, but did not have time: sparks flashed in his eyes, the body was filled with mortal weakness, and the prince had to lean on the table so as not to collapse on the floor.

A moment later, the hermit abruptly - as if the reaper waved his sickle - took away his hand, and Count Neil saw with amazement that between the tightly squeezed fingers the shadow wrung from his highness was writhing - the shadow is much darker than it was supposed to be under such poor lighting.

The heretic covered with sweat from tension, he just ruined, as if some other entity was trying to reshape the human body by its own standards. And yet the hermit was stronger: when his gray fingers unclenched, there was no trace of the darkness torn from the prince.

Is that all? Edward shook his head, listening to his own feelings. I understood that the ulcer that had eaten away all my soul in the last few days no longer drains strength from it, and smiled broadly: What a blessing...

- Yes, your highness. As agreed, I pulled the demon out of your soul and sharpened it in mine.

The hermit wiped at once the sweaty face and breathed measuredly, trying to calm the feverish heartbeat.

- That's great...

The prince took the cloak from the count and, without saying good-bye, rushed away from this strange place. He again felt alive, healthy and full of strength. And this led him to indescribable delight.

At seven years old, Edward said, shoving a hermit's voice in the back. - When your son is seven years old, I'm waiting for him at home.

- What? - the prince turned in bewilderment, who was already far away from here, then he recalled persuasion and casually waved his hand:

- And more, your highness! I locked the demon in me, but if something happens to me, it will certainly return for your soul.

Edward slammed the door in a fury, silently stepped out onto the porch and straightened his shoulders. He scored a full chest of frosty air and instantly calmed down the anger that seized him. Let the damaged blood of Rizov flow in the baby, the heretic will never become his mentor. Even if for the sake of this prince will have to kill someone.

Never!

Part one

Chapter 1. Exorcist. People and Demons

Year 971 from the Great Cathedral

The month of St. Auguste the Architect

I

The postal carriage arrived at the main Ronev square, when the city clock - one of the two city sights - beat off noon. They did it as if reluctantly: slowly, with long breaks between the ringing of a copper gong carried over the roofs of houses. The clock mechanism should have been bruised for a long time or, at worst, smeared, but the magistrate didn’t get around to it. In general, the magistrate did not reach out to many things - they were such people.

To match the clock: unhurried, accustomed to do only what to put off until tomorrow there is no way. Yes, another from them and was not required. Somehow imperceptibly grown from a seedy settlement into a crown city, Ronev existed and, at the very least, developed only thanks to his second and main attraction, the royal prison.

Now I could not believe it, but once in prison there were not enough free cells. Prisoners broke marble and malachite, mined copper and silver ore from local mines, and the town that grew around the prison flourished.

But the mines dried up, and the former prosperity somehow disappeared into the past. Well-being was gone, but the prison and the royal garrison remained. The townspeople tightened their belts, but got used to it. So they lived: without excesses, but with confidence in the future. That's right: the criminals in their age just do not run out.

The guards on duty in the square were the true children of their city - uncleish, barbarized beer, in crumpled uniform raincoats made halberds to the fence of the mansion occupied by royal mail and desperately missed, waiting for the end of the shift.

The guard on the main square was considered something of a punishment: it was a serious test for the guardians of the order who were used to a much more free life.

The raised collars of cloaks and the hats stuck to the very ears were at the very least protected from the gusts of the icy autumn breeze, but when the dim sun was hiding behind the gray cumulus clouds, it became altogether depressing. Therefore, when an exorcist appeared from the post carriage, the guard commander was simply taken aback by such an injustice.

A tall, scarecrow-like leather coat to toe and a wide-brimmed hat, the exorcist alone caused his heartburn to look at the depressed guards with a look of his own. Not only that, from the very good of both the goat and the milk, no one of the good subjects of King Albert the Second is even in the carriage with him - may the Holy years of his life be prolonged! - in their right mind will not sit down. Only in great need. So, with travelers knocking a couple of coins today just will not work.

I cried daily feces...

Understanding perfectly what impression the guard guardsmen were staring at me, I raised my hand and snapped it demandingly with my fingers. Thick leather gloves softened a click, and it sounded hardly louder than the sound of silver bells sewn at the edges of the hat and the seams of the cloak, but the head of the guard instantly found himself near.

- What can serve, Mr. Exorcist? - staring at the toes of his dusty boots, he blurted out.

- How to get to the nearest inn? - pulling out a weighty travel bag from the carriage, I asked.

Because of the leather half mask on the bottom of his face, his voice sounded dull, and the guard shuddered in surprise.

Mostly they are intimidated. At noon from here everything is wrong. In Stilg, everyone is equal before the law. Even the exorcist brothers of the Order of Exile. In words, of course, but it is a lot.

Right down the street, Mr. Exorcist, the foreman pointed out somewhere behind the carriage. - As the market will pass, so the inn will be right away - Fried rooster, you will not miss.

- Hold on.

I clicked my thumb to send a small silver coin into the air, without any doubt about its future fate.

But no - the guard missed, and a penny tinkled about the pavement. They don’t catch mice there. And I do not think that things are better in the garrison. Devour them. Or Stilg, or midnight neighbor - Norveym. Yes, and among themselves, these small kingdoms, grand duchies and other free baronies can easily be bitten.

Thank you, sir...

Without listening, I threw a bag strap over my left shoulder and moved in the indicated direction.

Narrow-toed boots - not so uncomfortable as they might have seemed at first glance - clattered on the cobblestones with taps, and numerous silver bells rang in tone.

Tsok-Tsok. Digi-dong. Digi-dong. Tsok-Tsok. Digi-don...

It is not surprising that all the oncoming ones passed over to the other side of the road in advance, hurriedly drove into the alleys and carefully turned away, afraid to even look in my direction.

Well, it’s impossible to meet with an exorcist with a glance, there’s no way! If they can enchant a possessed person just by looking in their eyes, then it is scary to even think what will become of an ordinary person. So the milk sours from the sound of their bells...

Soon the stones of the pavement under my feet replaced the rotten pavement boards, and the clatter of the heels of verses. But the inhabitants of Ronev so easily turned out not to spend, and they continued to shy away from me cleaner than from the tax collector.

Like little children...

However, there was no place to hide in the street around the market, and the townspeople hurriedly pressed themselves in different directions, trying not to touch my cloak. In the noise and din of the shopping district, the ringing of the bells was almost lost, but, catching a lost chime for a moment, I nudged my elbow behind my back without looking. Immediately spun on his heel and added edge of the palm.

The second blow came out blurry: the rogue who was trying to cut the bell bowed, pinching his broken nose with his elbow, and did not get the edge of his hand over his neck, but a silver lining on the cuff over his forehead. Lucky.

A still very young boy, with his arms spread out, fell backwards into the dirt road, but none of the passersby even slowed down his pace. Unless the strong guy, frozen in the doorway of the neighboring house, put his hand under the torn short jacket, but caught my eye and decided not to twitch. Clever boy.

Nothing more interesting on the way to the Roasted Rooster did not happen. And what interesting things can happen in this lousy Ronev? Hole! Although if you look, the whole of Marne is one continuous hole. Let's hope that even the bugs in the inn will not be.

A decent wine cannot be counted exactly. Yes, it is for the better.

The lad, who was watching the horses sniffing at the horses' horse, when I appeared, rushed into the house, so that the owner of the inn managed to get out of the kitchen and met me in the dining room.

- Mister exorcist... - Whether slouched by nature, or a slightly hunchbacked man, he hastily wiped his hands on a dirty apron and was probably going to declare that his modest institution was unworthy to host such an important person, but in the next street..., but stopped bewildered by the ringing of silver bells.

Din-dihydon-din-dihydone.

A basin of hot water and lunch will be brought to the room, I said, not giving him time to collect his thoughts. Already paid attention - the chime of bells sewn on clothes is often confused by normal people. On the possessed, too, it turns out, should act well. - I'll eat tomorrow.

- And... - apparently decided to clarify the issue with the payment of the inn keeper.

- Or should I come down for lunch here? - I looked around the spacious hall.

Please, the owner sighed instantly estimated the possible losses.

It can be understood: not only will the guests run away, but the rumor is also bad in the city and will immediately go. No one will believe that the exorcist here just decided to stay for the night. - Take the gentleman to the corner room, live!

- On the second floor? - the boy who has received a nuddle has sniffed.

- At the second busy. On the third, - the owner hissed evil and, already smiling, to me: - When do you wish to have dinner?

- Carry. Guilt... Guilt is not necessary. - Having corrected the bag strap that crashed into the shoulder, I followed the boy.

The room turned out to be quite a nothing.

Two windows, wide bed. In the corner is a table with a filled lamp. On the wall next to the washstand there is a polished iron plate. Is that the fireplace is not flooded, but it should not be cold at night.

A young maid - a very pretty, if not a pale face with fear - brought fresh bedding, retired the bed, and almost ran out of the room. Fool.

A follow-up lad came and put a hot water tub on the floor at the washstand.

Having waited for the host who had dragged the dinner tray, I locked the door and slipped the pre-wedged wooden wedge under it just in case. He put a raincoat and a hat, which was disgusted during the trip, on a chair, threw over a half mask and gloves. The boots went to the far corner of the room, the belt with a pair of knives deserved a more respectful treatment, but leather pants, a vest and a warm shirt... No, that won't do - you never have to rush.

Gently folding my clothes, I soaped my chin, laid out the razor that had been pulled out of my bag, and began to scrape the prickly red stubble.

The reflection on the polished iron plate grimaced desperately, and yet it’s better than shaving blindly again.

I did not need much time to bring myself into a human form, and, rinsing my face with cold water, I removed the lid from the dish that was standing on the tray. What do we have here? Stuffed pike. Plus a pair of boiled eggs, two slices of white bread and greens. Also a jug of cold beer. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Having finished my lunch, I pulled three folded leather folios out of my bag and moved one of the chairs closer to the window.

Until it was dark, it is worth a little self-education to do. I read a bit - and sleep. Tomorrow is not an easy day.

But where to start? Spirits, demons, ghosts and features of exile, Haze as it is or Rituals of driving out younger demons with a rare complete list of the dispute of supporters of the dogma of younger demons and adherents of the theory of nasty?

Okay, I'll start with Frenzy..., and then we'll see. It would be nice, of course, to change into normal clothes, go down and have a good time.

Then come back with the same timid maidservant and a jug of decent wine and...

Well, no - no and! Today will have to do with beer and books. Not the best company for a young healthy body, but it could be worse. And it will certainly be worse if I can’t tear my head off the pillow from a hangover tomorrow morning. So books, books and more books. And then go to sleep.

WOKE ME UP AT DAWN. The master boy, who received a small copper coin, did not let him down and pounded on the door before the first roosters.

Desperately yawning and shivering from touching the skin of cold skin, I quickly got dressed, hooked a sheath with a silver sickle on my belt and took out a half mask. Look like that's it.

But no! I completely forgot. Nashar at the bottom of the bag a pair of long, slightly curved daggers, hid them under his cloak. I think from the outside there shouldn't be anything noticeable. Yes, even if someone catches - not scary. I have the right.

In the morning Ronev seemed even more ugly town than yesterday upon arrival. I don’t know how this could have been, but the very same houses and streets today caused undisguised disgust.

Dirt, gray and covering all the shadow of hopelessness.

Or is it me?

Having corrected the bag strap, I thought about it, but then I decided that I shouldn’t bother with any nonsense. In fact, it is necessary to focus. After all, no fun came.

It was only at the end of the walk through the seemingly extinct city that I suddenly realized what worked on my nerves from the very beginning. Silence. The pre-dawn silence covered the downy feather-bed with Ronev, and even the sound of silver bells could not break its dead grip.

But when the town began to revive - the shutters slammed, the blacksmith shod horses rattled, dogs began to burst into early passersby - it immediately became easier. As if from a bad dream back to the normal world. What silence, what nightmares? The backwater, it is a backwater and there is.

THE GUARD, WHO GUARDED the gate at the prison gates, wrapped himself in a raincoat and leaned against the wall in a small, sheltered from the wind and rain. However, ostentatious disgust turned out to be utterly imaginary - the guard on duty in the booth carefully watched his colleague on the street.

- Stop who is coming! - intercepting a halberd, screamed a young guy. Because of the rain of the ringing of my bells, he did not hear, and therefore he was pretty scared, having spotted a figure in a long raincoat who had emerged from the water veil. - Stop talking!

- Are you, by the way, not blind? - Without stopping, I asked. The downpour that poured from the sky some time ago, like the upcoming business, did not in the best way affect my mood. - Where is the head of the guard?

Come in, Mr. Exorcist, the serviceman clanked his teeth.

And when he decided that he would not be heard, he sighed sadly: Another one! Well brought hard...

Groping in place, I turned around, but the guy had already turned away and stubbornly pretended to swallow his tongue. There was nothing left but to open the door and go to the guardhouse.

Are you on business, Mr. Exorcist? - asked the head of the guard, who was sitting by the stove, in which logs were cracking merrily. A pot-bellied uncle of about forty looked at me attentively, never deciding, however, to look into my face.

- Yes.

- I put the bag on the floor and pulled out of it a case with a list of letters from the prison commander to the capital mission of the Order of the Exiles. - On business.

- A! So you because of the frenzied, be he wrong! - the senior returned the letter to me, barely glancing at the paper. - Were late, Mr. Exorcist. Brother executor from Flaming Hand already arrived an hour ago...

- Sure? - I leaned forward.

- Do you really confuse them with anyone? - with a contented look the guard threw up his hands. - And he had a letter too.

Take me to the commandant, I ordered.

It turned out worse than ever.

Gaining great strength in Norveym and the neighboring kingdoms, the order with the possessed no ceremony. Those who were lucky ended their days at the stake, but those who were not lucky... Well, let's not talk about the sad.

I can't, the guard commander shrugged. It turns out you no longer have a case with you, Mr. Executor, but Mr. Commandant doesn’t like passion when he is disturbed without a proper reason.

- Immediately! - I gritted my teeth.

- This minute! - the guard jumped to his feet. I don’t know what he was able to see in my eyes, but he visibly strayed from his face. It turns out, all right saw.

Yar, see Mr. Exorcist...

Courtyard, lattice, long dark corridor, open passage, stairs to the second floor, guardhouse, corridor again.

The path to the commandant was badly deposited in my memory; only one thought pounded in my head: late, late, late!

Neither the children of torches, nor the stench of the prison premises were able to distract for a minute from the heart of foreboding that pounded furiously. Is it all? Or something else can be done?

Jerking the door open to the secretarial commandant, the guard introduced me to a sleepy clerk and immediately sped away.

In the dim room, except for the secretary and the two guards, there was no one, and I barely restrained a woeful sigh.

- How do you record, Mr. Exorcist? - covering his mouth with a parched hand from old age, the clerk yawned.

- So write it down. - I went to the door to the office of the commandant. - Brother executor from the commandant?

Yes, he examined the possessed and just returned... the old man nodded and became alarmed: But I need a name!

- Is a miserable set of sounds can convey the uniqueness of the human soul? - Without turning around, I threw it and stared at the guard blocking the road.

- Well?

It’s impossible to carry a weapon, the veteran pointed at the sickle of the lanky mustache. Allegedly, sleepy eyes carefully searched the cloak, and, I think, do not coincide with the number and shape of bells should be, I sit in a solitary cell until the end of the centuries.

This is a ritual thing, I said, and threw the bag to