Kitabı oku: «Not fairy tales»

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Nothing in this world is eternal, not even he himself.
But perhaps because of the fickleness
miracles happen in him.
The forests are whispering about something
in the vastness of the planet.
It seems to be just from the wind, but listen —
voices in a language you don’t know
they talk about eternity.
The stars, just dots above your home,
are suns for someone.
Or if you meet a river rapid,
lo and behold – the staircase winds upward.
If at the beginning you can’t see the road,
still strive for the horizon.
Learn to look at life with a broader perspective,
and perhaps the universe itself will seem incredibly simple to you.
Know that every crumb of space-time in this world is not
«nothing».

Cover designer Nadyn Bagout

ISBN 978-5-0056-1492-6

Created with Ridero smart publishing system

Littlefish

The horse dragged along the road, barely moving legs. His hooves left almost no trace on the hard, dry ground.

The afternoon sun had no intention of hiding behind the sparse clouds.

Lendun has not met a single traveler in the last few hours, not since he left the borders of Martz district.

However, perhaps we should not be surprised: the people in the surrounding villages today indulge in idleness, resting after the Kakhnitz fair that ended the day before yesterday. Yesterday the road was no doubt crowded with wagons, mules and oxen, not to mention people on foot. After selling out their goods and filling up with other people’s goods, although there is already enough for someone, they hurry to go home, to put food in the stalls, to try on new clothes, to give the children toys and dainties.

He had missed the market himself, having been delayed at the shepherd’s home (or, to tell the truth, with his lovely daughter), so he was going to Kakhnitz, to the voivode, only now. But maybe it’s for the best: at least they will solve everything without fuss, without distraction.

A cool breeze blew in his face, which was unspeakably pleasant in such a sweltering heat. The boy perked up, cocking his dark-haired head, wiping the sweat from his forehead. Blue eyes picked up a faint glimmer beyond the nearby woods. Water…

A lake, perhaps, or a stream… …or a creek… Doesn’t matter.

He pulled the reins to get the horse off the beaten path and spurred him toward the trees. The animal snarled unhappily, his head jerking, but he obeyed.

In a couple of minutes, they were at the edge of the forest.

The shadows, rare at first, gradually thickened, bringing a welcome relief from the heat, if only for a short time: the beechwoods were a rather narrow grove, skirting, as he supposed, a small lake, five hundred feet across.

He literally jumped off his horse and rushed to the water, throwing off his clothes as he went: in a moment the worn pants, the sweaty linen shirt, the embroidered vest, and the boots lay on the shore in a slovenly heap. The traveler immediately dove headlong into the cool waves, confidently cutting the water with sweeping strokes, swam almost a third of the lake and came back. Reluctantly getting out on the ground, Lendun made sure that the horse was still there. He was a fine beast, no doubt: Zhimbar had taught him not to drink without a master. The boy came closer, stroked the steep black side. Firs snorted again, squinting dark blue eyes.

«Be patient, my friend. I’ll get you drunk later. We’ll be in Kahnitz for another hour. The voivode won’t spare the barley, will he? Baron has given us the full allowance. Not bad, what do you think?

An iridescent laugh that came suddenly from somewhere behind him made him shudder. His wet skin was covered in goosebumps.

Blaming himself for this indiscretion, Lendun turned sharply, snatching a long dagger from his satchel.

His eyes were fixed on a pile of boulders that jutted out into the lake. A girl’s giggles came from there.

Finding no one around to attack him, the young man, still looking around, quickly pulled on his clothes and cautiously, gazing round, headed toward the strangely inviting sound.

Behind the water-and time-honed stones, he saw an unexpected but wonderful picture.

A beautiful half-naked girl was sitting in the shallow water, splashing and laughing. Her long blond hair sparkled in the sunlight. Her skin, barely tanned, looked as smooth as a statue’s. Though no one would mistake her for a statue: she was too lively.

Lendun swallowed frantically, stopping dead in his tracks, unable to utter a word. He just stood there, watching the transparent droplets dripping down her young body, the straw strands fluttering in the breeze.

Suddenly the maiden turned around, staring straight at him. The laughter died down. He couldn’t tell the color or expression of her eyes from this distance, but she was surprised, that’s for sure.

So they stared at each other in utter silence for several minutes.

The beauty was the first to come to her senses.

«Oh! Greetings, traveler! I didn’t expect to see anyone on my property today.»

The guy twitched, mumbling uncertainly, turning away so he wouldn’t see her nakedness.

«My sincere apologies, lady. I didn’t know… I didn’t know anyone was here, or I wouldn’t have disturbed… I’m sorry!»

From the corner of his eye, he noticed that she dismissed his apology as unimportant, as if his impertinent appearance were not worth the words.

«What brings you here, traveler? You don’t meet many people here,» she smiled as she spread her hands over the water, which reached almost to her chest.

«I… hmm… I’m…» Lendun was never one for eloquence, but now he was embarrassed. «I just… wanted to cool off. It’s hot today, don’t you think?» he lowered his eyes again.

«Yeah, I guess so,» she shrugged. «So, what are you waiting for? Go for a swim.»

«I’m pretty much already,» the guy shook his head toward the boulders, «over there».

«Oh, I see. Are you coming from Kahnitz?»

«No, on the contrary, that way. Voivode…»

His words were interrupted by a loud splash somewhere in the middle of the lake. He looked up and saw the glint of scales on the back of a large fish.

«Wow! Wow! Did you see that?! A carp, I think, and an enormous one at that. It’s delicious… Mm…»

«Do you like fish, too?» the woman he was talking to asked him a little bit surprised. «Then wait, now…»

He will never forget the spectacle that followed.

Three long whip-like blue-green tentacles rose above the blue-reflecting waves, curved in the air, dived into the water, and after a moment rose back up, pulling out a silvery, scaly carcass.

There was soft laughter again, like the ringing of porcelain bells.

«Look,» the girl exclaimed cheerfully, «from the very first time…»

The tentacles reached out toward the shore. For a brief moment, the mermaid’s entire body appeared above the surface of the lake: wriggly, serpentine.

An unknowable force had blown him out of his place. Lendun couldn’t remember how he got over the rubble, how he climbed the horse, how he left the ominous grove.

He arrived at the voivode’s farmstead completely white, unable to string words together.

However, Lady Gemma’s – landlord’s wife – honey tincture had gotten him back on his feet in a couple of days. He tried never to think of swimming in the Maiden’s Pond, as the locals called it, though he was unable to exorcise the image of the beautiful golden-haired monster from his dreams.

Italannia pulled the fish closer, grasping the carcass with her delicate hands and sharp claws.

With a slight perplexity she looked after the guy who was running away.

What a weirdo! And he didn’t want to try. He must have remembered something important, so he rushed off.

With a chuckle, the girl immediately put him out of her mind.

The white fangs dug into the still twitching carp, slashing into its side. Watery fish blood dripped down her smooth chin and onto her chest.

Trash

The lock beeped approvingly at the key-card signal. The door to her parents’ apartment hissed to the side, revealing a long narrow hallway.

Una stepped inside and winced: the mixed smell of fried fish, baked goods, and cheap perfume hit her nose so hard it made her eyes water.

The girl walked lightly across the hallway, stopping on the threshold of the living room on the left.

As she might expect, they were home.

Her father was sprawled out on the shabby brown couch, spreading his flabby body on the greasy cushions, staring at the projection on the holovisor. It was brand-new, the latest model, with gleaming blue sides and a clear picture, but the packaging tape had not been removed yet. It was just another show about some kind of outside intervention. It wasn’t interesting, though…

In the far corner, by the lacquered white truffle decorated with gold monograms and scrolls, her mother sat, enthusiastically sorting out another pile of purchases that had been delivered. Countless vials, jars and tubes of cosmetics piled up on the small tabletop like a fragrant pink mountain. Overlapping blouses and skirts, fur coats and kerchiefs, jackets and lace panties hung on the back of a chair and on a movable coat rack. Against this motley mass the delicate, perhaps even haggard figure of the golden-haired woman was almost invisible. At her feet and around her were also crowded bags and boxes: shoes, dishes, gadgets, and other «fun» junk from the TV store; with any luck a couple of books might be found. And there are wrappers and ribbons, paper, cellophane, pieces of fiber and foam, receipts and labels everywhere.

Una shook her head disapprovingly: how do they manage to litter everything so much in just a couple of days?

«Mom, Dad, hi! You’re all sitting here like owls.»

Mammy turned around briskly on her brightly decorated perch – just like a bird, smiled exaggeratedly and waved her hand.

«Hello, hello, hello!» and then she stared in the mirror again.

The father muttered something under his breath, but didn’t even look at his daughter, continuing to fill his mouth with fish sticks from a deep bowl on his lap.

«You’re sitting there,» the girl continued without embarrassment, «and, by the way, it’s so beautiful outside Treboyn today, you don’t even need breathing apparatus,» she put the mask from hermosuit on the chest of drawers. «Oh, look at that, you can see…»

Behind the long window hole, she could see a wide strip of pale blue sky about six miles to the east, just beyond the first cordon. The ribbon cut through the usual reddish-gray haze and wound all the way to the horizon, merging there with the sea.

Not a single head turned.

With a sigh, Una set to work, rolled out a holder from the pantry, hooked a huge acid-orange garbage bag onto it, and began to clean up. Crumpled packages and half-eaten pieces of food poured into the orange belly.

The lock clicked again.

Through the corridor, without looking into the living room, her sister walked hurriedly, hiding in the kitchen.

Una frowned. Bending down, she picked up another cardboard box, tossed it into the bag, then suddenly froze in thought, glancing suspiciously at the kitchen door. Leaving her work for the moment, she went to look at Poly.

The older girl sat at the table hunched over, her blond hair hiding her bowed face. Thin, motherlike hands shook as she uncorked a jar.

«Hi! Poly, what are you…»

The girl didn’t finish: she came closer and immediately saw what her sister was holding. In the flat round container was a thick greenish-blue gel.

Without a second’s hesitation, Una snatched the jar from her trembling hands and carried it to the garbage bag.

«You won’t eat it again. Never again. We talked about this…»

The response was some kind of inhuman howl or moan. Poly clutched at her sister’s hair as she stepped into the living room.

Una tried to break free, turned around, and stumbled from another jolt. The can flew out of her fingers and hit the wall, spilling its contents all over it. Her sister forgot about the offender, rushing to the spilled puddle. Instinctively stepping back, Una suddenly bumped into something and fell awkwardly, hit the back of the holovisor.

The device wobbled on a thin leg and collapsed; the projector cone extinguished.

Moaning and rubbing her bruises, the girl rose to her feet.

Her father’s beastly roar shook the room.

A shiny bat of blond wood sank on Una’s head.

Her black hair soared, her skull crumpled under the impact and burst: bloody bits of bone scattered in all directions.

The girl collapsed to the floor. Dead gray eyes stared up at the ceiling, glowing with dots of diodes.

The man, no longer paying any attention to her, tossed the bat aside and fiddled with his holovisor. Straightening the base, he flicked the remote. A vague intermittent picture apparently satisfied him. Back at his rookery, the fat man plopped down on it again, froze, almost unblinking, stared at the screen.

Poly giggled against the wall, licking up the slime-like slurry. When she’d finished, she looked around the room with completely glassy eyes, stumbled over her sister’s body, and hiccupped.

The mother only turned around at her direct address, as if she had not heard the preceding noise.

«Ma-a-a!»

Staggering, the girl stood up and walked closer to the corpse. The mother came up too, fluttering her eyes incomprehensibly. Her aged mouth, with its bright lipstick smeared over it, formed into a mannishly surprised «O».

«Where… where we should put her now,» Poly hiccupped again, «lying here… I wanted to take her away… I earned it didn’t I?» she grinned crookedly. «Yes, I did»

«Well done, my daughter, well done,» the mother chirped like a sparrow. «I guess… I guess… I don’t know… Boo, tell me,» she turned to her husband.

He squinted, snorted, scratched his belly, smearing bits of gray-pink brain matter all over his light-colored T-shirt, and waved it off briefly.

The mother sighed, turned away, chewed her lips, then noticed the orange stain.

«Here,» she pointed her finger at the bag, «there’ll be pickers today, really.»

Still swaying, Poly looked back and forth between her sister and the garbage bag, then she mumbled, swallowing the interfering saliva, and nodded.

When they lowered the holder, the two of them shoved the body upside down into the sack, and straightened it: they couldn’t even fit her legs in the bent position. After twisting them this way and that, they looked at each other, shrugged and tied the ties as they were, with a bow on the protruding ankles. Then they took the trash pack out into the corridor, the mother returned to her interrupted rummaging, and the daughter plopped down next to her father, also clinging to the hologram.

About an hour later, the front door opened.

In the outer gallery stood an austere woman in a dark gray jumpsuit. At her knees, like a service

dog, a compact robot-carrier was frozen.

The visitor’s gaze traveled over the huge orange bag. Small feet in high blue sneakers peeking out of its throat could not go unnoticed. The attendant blinked, raised an eyebrow, curled her lips, but almost immediately her face took on its former aloof expression.

The scanner in her hand beeped the report: «90% organic substance».

«Biological garbage. Take it away,» she commanded the robot. «Furnace number 6.»

Pies

The brew in the cauldron bubbled and gurgled. Strangely dark steam rose upward and puffed across the ceiling, forming little manmade clouds. But these walls have seen more than that.

The old house, built of gray rough-hewn stone, with oak beams in the ceilings and a dirty plank floor, did not give the impression of a permanent dwelling at all. It was more like a cave, a burrow into which one had to crawl out of necessity.

The tiny mica windows let almost no light through, and now, in the twilight, they looked like cracks in the walls. Weapons hung here and there – bows, axes, clubs, short spears, a couple of crappy swords – drew crooked shadows under the dancing candle lights. In the fuzzy glare the gray, shaggy coat by the door looked like a beast, clawing at the stonework for some reason.

Wolfe stirred the stew with a wooden spoon on a long carved handle, added herbs, stirred again, and sniffed. Yes, he thought, it’s ready.

He pulled a deep clay bowl out of a pile of dishes piled beside the stove – a black one with a red rune pattern, looked closely, spat on it, and wiped the cracked glaze with his shirt sleeve. Then he filled the plate to the brim with chunks of stew.

After extinguishing the overhead fire in the crooked stove, Wolfe set the bowl on the unexpectedly good-for-life striped wood table, sat down on a three-legged stool, and began to eat, occasionally burning and snorting.

A knock on the door made him raise his head.

«Go ahead, come in,» his voice sounded hoarser than usual. He craned his neck and coughed.

Two men entered the house: sheriff Hunter and his eldest son. The heir and his shift are dragging him everywhere. Wolfe smirked, baring strong white teeth.

«Greetings, Mage-Commissar,» the visitors bowed, not too flatteringly, though.

Wolfe only gave a brief nod in response.

«There’s a rumor going around,» the sheriff hesitated, «you know. We’d like to know if it’s true.»

«I don’t know what people are talking about,» the man muttered between spoonfuls of food. «Ask me straight out, Hunter, don’t be a pussy. I don’t like it.»

«Ahem. Ahem. Mage-Commissar Wolfe, is it true that you destroyed two witches who were plaguing the surrounding villages?» he swallowed and stared expectantly at his inhospitable host.

«Ha!» Wolfe smirked again, his face creased so that it looked like crumpled paper – his deep wrinkles had long been his companions, only his yellow eyes still looked young. «See for yourself,» he nodded to the far corner of the room, hidden by the shadows.

The sheriff went to the table, picked up the dirty candlestick with the lit candle, and stepped toward the place. Immediately he recoiled, unable to contain his trembling. His son suddenly turned strangely green, covered his mouth with his hands and, unsuccessfully struggling with gagging, jumped out into the street. A disgusting uterine sound was heard.

«Ugh, he ruined my bushes, the devil takes it,» magician cursed. «You’re taking him with you too soon for duty.»

«It’s all right,» Hunter said, «let him get used to it. We don’t live in the capital.»

He shined the light in the corner again, examining more carefully the two female corpses lying there, an old one and a very young one, brutally chopped up and mangled.

The sheriff shuddered with disgust, but to give him credit, he managed to hold himself together.

«So that’s all?!» there was more fear in the question than in reaction to what he saw. There was also hope.

«Everything is over. Everything.»

«And they won’t… well, they won’t… rise again?»

«No,» Wolfe squinted and lifted a bowl of leftover brew. «Here. Just the way it should be. Hearts and livers. I’ll eat it all and be done with it. Well, maybe I’ll have a tummy ache. Would you like a piece?»

Hunter almost twisted.

«No. Thank you,» he managed to squeeze out and spat the thick saliva that had accumulated: it smelled surprisingly good.

«Anyway, all you have to do is clean up. Burn the trash and bury it somewhere far away,» the magician waved his hand at the remnants of the bodies. «They won’t come up again, I give you my word.»

«Thank you, Mage-Commissar, from our whole village and district. You have saved many lives with this.»

«Yeah, yeah…» Wolfe ruminated again, taking a sip of gravy over the stew, he was no longer interested in the sheriff.

Hunter staggered for a while, then made up his mind.

«Uh… Wolfe, but how did you get them?»

The man reluctantly pulled himself away from his food and sighed.

«How? As it should be. Look,» he looked toward the door where a long-handled axe stood propped against the wall, under the cape, its ragged surface darkened against the sharp, glistening blade. «Locks? They messed up there, of course, notably. Like real spiders. But if you pull the right string…»

«I see. And the evidence?»

«And who needs them? Those mothers whose sons and daughters have been kidnapped by these monsters? They already know. And they got their retribution. However,» the mage gritted his teeth, «there is something. The Protector should have enough…»

The sheriff followed Wolfe’s gaze with his eyes.

On an antique dresser was a basket full of pies. Some of the cakes were broken, and he could make out the gruesome stuffing – the baby’s severed fingers. Nearby lay a tattered cotton cap, scarlet as the dawn.