The Mist and the Lightning. Part 12
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“What kind of mood are you in?” He said. “If we don’t win… but what should I do then?”
“You will teach the bear decency,” Lis smiled sadly.
“It would be better if you take less of your… hmmm… “restoratives” and alcohol, it's scary to look at you.”
“Kors, I said to teach the bear, not us!” Lis coughed.
“Alis, are you sick? What happened to you? Do you have tuberculosis?”
Lis looked up at him gloomily, and this look explained everything without words.
Kors’ face twisted.
“I suspected all this time, but didn’t want to believe. This cough of yours… what's with Karina?!”
“Nik said, I can't infect anyone yet. And he will heal me. So fuck off.”
“He should have cured himself for a start! I'll talk to my doctor, find some good medicines for you!”
“He cannot be given medicine,” Nikto intervened, “then bleeding will begin in the stomach so much that you cannot stop it.”
“Yes…” Kors could hardly restrain himself from cursing. “What's with the stomach?”
“That's really fucked up there,” said Nikto.
“And hepatitis? It too?”
“What's this? Kors, you just throw in the names of diseases, I don't know the names, especially in black,” said Nikto displeased.
“This is what you and the prince had. I cured Arel in the Prison Hospital.”
“I seem to have infected him again,” Nikto said. “If you mean it.”
“I don’t have it,” said Lis. “I always use only my syringe, and I don't give it to anyone.”
“I injected Arel with my syringe,” said Nikto.
“Are you crazy?” Kors looked at him with undisguised horror.
“I’ll cure everyone. What are you afraid of? You're not going to inject yourself with my syringe. Otherwise, you will not get infected, only through blood.”
“Do you think I'll take drugs with you?”
“Yes.”
“Demon, are yourself?”
“Not really,” Nikto laughed. “Not myself. I am in your son.”
“Damn, I am now afraid to sit next to you! What was I just thinking about!”
“Kors, don't be silly. Lis is not contagious. And Karina. Only through a syringe can you get infected from me, and even then I'm not sure. Don't bitch out so openly.”
“This is not fear, but common sense.”
“I'll cure everyone. You are behaving like a child!”
“Although…” Kors thought. “There is some logic in this, you are a Demon. Dead people, dangerous addictions. It's not for you to grow flowers, in fact…”
Nikto looked at Marcus, who was still kneeling in front of them, and it was clear that he couldn’t bear it all, hear all this, and he was completely crushed and disoriented.
“By the way! This fauna,” said Nikto, “is it all kinds of plants? And the mushrooms? Can he grow mushrooms?”
“Fuck you mushrooms!” Lis remarked irritably.
“Fooljumpers.”
“Nik, take off his gloves.”
“He’s a slave.”
“Nik, he can't make drugs with gloves!”
“He can't do them anyway!” Nikto grunted.
“He will make gunpowder, he will read the books of the reds, figure out the proportions and make us gunpowder and all sorts of fiery lighters that explode.”
“What?”
“What you have heard!”
“Is it flora or fauna?”
“Free him! I need him for the war!”
Kors looked at Lis with some respect.
“Let him do it first,” Nikto remarked skeptically.
“Why are you such noble sirs and Higher Powers, motherfuckers! You demand the devil knows what, but you only limit yourself! You are surprised that everyone except you is so stupid, and you don’t allow yourself to develop. He is a simple man, let him breathe freely, support, and don’t interfere! And you will get a hundred times more!”
“Lis, he doesn’t want to do anything, doesn’t want to make you gunpowder, weapons, he is not grateful to you. He wants to commit suicide as soon as you leave him alone. It’s always the same! Tie him up, that’s my advice to you. Put on the mask, handcuffs, fix, so that he doesn’t injure himself. Don't repeat my mistakes. Call Arel, Arel knows how to handle slaves. He will train him in a couple of lessons. Give him unbearable pain. He must understand that he cannot commit suicide, he cannot die. And he has only two choices: either endure unbearable torment, or obey unquestioningly, and then his life will become a little better.”
Lis was silent:
“I'll figure it out myself,” he said finally. :Gather your unclean ones better in the square.”
“Okay.”
Lis turned to Arel:
“Prince Arel, will you make a speech?”
“And to whom should I speak it?” Arel said. And despite all the horror of his position, his completely slave existence in the cruel hands of Nikto-Demon, in Arel’ voice one could still very clearly hear, albeit quiet, but some kind of patronizing intonation, the way he seemed to lazy stretch out the words a little. The intonations of a born lord, prince, characteristic of a person accustomed to order, command, dispose. And it was hard to say how much time and humiliation it would take for them to disappear, and whether it would ever happen.
“To whom should I make a speech?” He repeated. “Before the unclean? Congratulate them on their victory after seeing me naked and crawling on my knees at the feet of their White Lord? I was exactly like Marcus now. Or praise the noble black of Kors for their bravery? This would be very appropriate, especially considering that for them I am a fallen prince, a painted hole. Ah-ah, you probably mean my people, my peasant militias? How many were there? More than two hundred, and they fought bravely. And who should I congratulate? They all died.”
“Not all,” Lis replied quietly. “About ten left.”
“That's lovely! I don't have people anymore, Lis. You made warriors out of my peasants. And now there are no warriors or peasants. The land is not cultivated and there will be no harvest. Those remaining in the Estate will starve to death. You have robbed me of all my subjects. You, Lis, threw my people into the red meat grinder.”
“What was left for me? To send there the noble black Kors?”
“I don’t know,” Arel shrugged, “you are a genius of strategy. Not me.”