The Mist and the Lightning. Part 11 - стр. 18
“All right,” said Kors, “I'll wait for you. You are planning a very risky business, and I want to understand better and decide everything for myself. And I also want to talk on your return without masks, seriously and in a more frank manner.”
Chapter four
Kors and Arel
Vitor Kors knocked on the door of the prince’s room and entered it. Arel raised his face, still covered with a mask, from the sheet of paper lying on the table in front of him. Kors looked around the room with some surprise. It was perfectly cleaned: the bed was neatly covered with a fur blanket made from the skins of the fluffy gray foxes that were found at the North Sea and here in the South were a rarity, sheer luxury. There were scraper marks on the clean wooden floor, not a single drop of wax. In the far corner of the room, on a chair, was khabir Verniy, he was without a mask, and perhaps this confused Kors. Verniy was sitting on a chair, bent over an iron bucket, in one paw he held a shiny, ornate candlestick for seven candles, but now empty, in the other – a thick wax candle. The candle burned brightly, and Ver led the flame along the curls of the candlestick. Wax adhered to complex patterns melted from the fire and dripped into the bucket. Thus, the candlestick was quickly cleared. All that was left was to wipe it down with a cloth, and it glittered again like new with gold. The second candlestick, perfectly cleaned, was already standing on the bedside table. Verniy only raised his eyes and again began to slowly move the candle over the candlestick.
“What do you need?” Arel asked first, his brown eyes shining brightly from the narrow slits of the mask.
Kors shuddered, as if with difficulty breaking away from the bewitching action, averted his eyes, from the unclean economic dog, looked at Arel:
“You don’t take off your mask at all now,” he said more caustically than questioningly, “just like your Nikto?”
“Do you need anything?” Arel repeated. “Nik said that you can address me if you need something. Only on business.”
“Yes, of course, I came on business,” threw Kors irritated, “do you really think that I came to you just to chat? I need a map of the village, if there is one, of course. And the surroundings. All surroundings.”
Kors went to the table at which Arel was sitting, and bent down, examining the book lying in front of the prince. The book was open.
“You are reading?!” Kors’ surprise knew no bounds, and now he looked very sincere. “Prince Arel, are you reading?! What is it? A textbook?”
Kors reached out and took the book, Arel didn’t stop him, and Ver, too, silently continued his meaningless, short-lived work.
“Everything is clear,” Kors chuckled, looking at the cover. “It's unclean language. You are studying unclean. All’s clear! Does Nikto make you do it? Well, how are you doing?” He put the textbook in place and took the sheet on which Arel tried to write in unclean.
Kors read aloud:
“My Demon Nik. We are together. I, Prince Arel and my Demon Nik, we love each other with love.”
And Kors laughed:
“We love each other with love?! This is cool, Arel! It seems that you can’t master unclean the same way as all other sciences.”
Arel turned away, standing up. His long dark hair covered his back, and when it was not visible that faceless black leather of a mask was on his face, he was again the same Prince Arel. Tall, thin, graceful, he walked over to the closet and took out a bunch of keys from a drawer. And then he turned around, and the magic disappeared, the mask that covered his handsome face spoiled everything, depriving the main thing for which he was nicknamed the handsome prince. And Kors lowered his gaze, he didn’t mock anymore, seeing that Arel didn’t react.