The Mist and the Lightning. Part 15 - стр. 2
“Yes, I noticed him on the battlefield, and not only because of his hair. He fought to the last.”
“A young animal from the school of Daniel Crassus.”
“Another cannon fodder from the school of Daniel Crassus,” Igmer shakes his head skeptically. “What is your name, red half-blood?” He addresses the prisoner in black language.
“Atley Alis,” he answers, still not embarrassed, looking with narrow yellow eyes full of hatred.
Igmer freezes:
“Alis? Where you're from?”
And the half-bloods tells the name of a seedy town, almost a village that Igmer knows all too well.
“Why is your last name, Alis?”
“That was my mother's name,” he is not surprised by the question, apparently he is often asked. Igmer notes to himself that the guy keeps well, doesn’t curry favor with him, despite the fact that he is a clear half-blood and this is now his advantage over other prisoners. But he behaves like black, and doesn’t make the slightest attempt to creep into the confidence of the red to save his life.
“And the name of the father?”
“I don’t have a father,” the redhead half-blood answers without any emotion, and Igmer moves away from him. Later, he gives the order to feed the captives, all the while mentally returning to the guy Atley Alis.
In the evening he comes to look at him again, scrutinizes him, as if thinking, and as if trying to solve something for himself. The half-blood is very thin, emaciated, and it is strange that he had the strength to fight. Igmer watches as he hastily eats from a rough iron bowl, without distraction, but not as greedily as one might expect, with some dignity. Only he doesn’t know that the reds, mocking their captives, poured them a soup from a trough for pigs, he doesn’t know it and doesn’t seem to even guess, is not surprised at the taste.
“And what does Crassus feed you in his school?”
The prisoner interrupts for a second, looks at Igmer:
“Nothing,” he finally says seriously and continues to eat.
Igmer breaks down and abruptly takes the plate away from him, splashing the remains on the floor:
“Give him a normal meal!” He shouts. And the red-haired half-blood looks at him with incomprehension.
“You look bad,” Igmer said finally, forcing himself to look away from the hungry red.
“I miraculously survived and got here without hope of reaching, sir Igmer,” the warrior raised his head and pushed the plate away.
“Well?”
“It is he. I'm sure. I remember him perfectly. There is no doubt that Sigmer is indeed back, and it is not another red who pretends to be him. Not an impostor, as many believe. Yes, Sigmer has sunk into oblivion, and I don't know how he managed it, but he returned. And he returned with the army.”
“Have you seen him?”
“Yes, sir, close, just like I see you now. And I didn't have the slightest doubt.”
“How is he?”
“Still the same. He hasn't changed at all. He is fearless, very fast, fights on the front line, takes risks,” the red warrior paused, “ he is a professional,” he added, “no red can do that, he combines the mind of the highest race of red and the animal sense of black savages. He’s in charge. There are many black and unclean ones with him. All are fighting together and all are with him and for him. There is always a girl near him, fighting nearby, his fighting girlfriend. She is also very fast and fights on a par with men. She often insures him, literally throws herself with her chest, like a mad woman, shields him, a bold black savage. I'm sure this is his woman, as soon as we stopped attacking or were forced to retreat, he immediately hugged her.”