Arel made the sound and soon found himself in a small courtyard, and almost in the middle of the courtyard he saw a well, and he went to him. He didn’t look for water on purpose, it just happened that at that moment he caught a well. He didn’t say to himself: “Oh, here’s the water, now I’ll get drunk, then I have to decide what to do next, where to spend the night, where to get food.” So would say Arel. But he wasn’t Arel. He never said anything to himself. It was not important.
"Hey! Hey!” – he heard a shout and looked up. It was a woman. "Do not come here!" – she waved her hand in his direction. “Don’t’ waste the water! Damned tramps! Children, run, call your father from the shop!
Tell him, the tramp wants to pollute the water!”
Small obscure shadows, which he had not noticed before, flashed past, they made some screams. Strangely, he understood everything she said, but somehow, he did not understand how he used to understand. He
understood it by heart, not by reason. He understood the meaning, for him all merged together – the words, her gestures, the expression on her face.
“Don’t close the water!”
And he stopped. Perfect indifference continued to own it. Would Arel have abandoned his attempts like that? Is it not worth it to teach this sassy? How dare she not let him to come to the water! Some kind of poor thing, a commoner. How dare she stop him, prince! But … But he was not a prince! And he sank heavily on the ground, disobedient fingers in coarse leather gloves clumsily straightened the strands of hair that had come out from under the hood, hiding them. And this young woman stood nearby and carefully and waryly looked in his direction, apparently ready, if need be, to protect her well from an uninvited guest. He did not hate her. Did not feel resentment. Maybe just a slight desire. He wanted her. I wanted to stupid, just knock down and fuck. Anything more. Just because she was a woman. And yet he did not budge. He understood that it was impossible to just take her and fuck her like that. That she is afraid of him, and she has protectors who she will call for help.
With unblinking fingers, he only straightened the hood of his raincoat, pulling him even more onto his face. However, there was no face. Only now, to his surprise, Arel felt and realized that he was in a mask, uncomfortable and tough. It is strange that he had not noticed this before, and for some reason, without knowing why, he experienced relief from this. Relief from the fact that his face is closed, and this woman will not be able to see him. Relief and comfort, all feelings were too fleeting and shallow, then again indifference. Involuntarily, Arel thought that probably some animal could think and feel this way.
“Who are you?” – the girl asked a little surprised, as he thought. “Half- breed, is it? Runaway?” It seems that she wasn’t so cruel as he decided at first, because, having scooped some water in a bowl, she put it near him: “Drink. Just do not go to the well."
He reached for the proposed water: the bowl was dirty, maybe it was meant for a dog? However, he did not care, he lifted the mask from the bottom and pressed his lips to the cold, scalding water. Drinking was uncomfortable. His mouth was as broken as everything else, like legs and eyes. On the one hand, the lips did not move, and therefore icy water flowed on his chin, flowing under his clothes. Making the last sip, he strongly threw back his head and realized that she’d seen that. She saw the part of his face. His mandible is torn from the right side. He saw her eyes widen, she recoiled, apparently already regretting that she had given him water. And at this moment other people, men, appeared.
That's all he could say about them, they were lit by the last rays of the setting sun, and he could not see them. But there was no fear, nothing again.
“What happened?” – one of the men asked. He was breathing heavily, and a stick was squeezed in his hand.
“Here it is. He wanted water. I was afraid that he would pollute our well. Do you see the way he dressed? And I was right, under his mask there is some sort of tripe on his face. Maybe a leprosy or a plague! If only he did not turn out to be plagued!”
They recoiled from him, he understood everything, but for some reason did not feel the slightest desire to respond. Just tried to get up, but fell. And they bounced off him even further.
"Really sick!”
"I'm telling you! As soon as I saw him going to the well … Gods, Gods, for all goodness, protect us from the plague!”– the woman began to lament, sobbing. He really felt her fear.
"Hey, you! Get out of here! ”– the man swung his stick threateningly. Arel had a sword. Arel knew that a sword was fastened under his cloak behind his back, but he didn’t even try to get it, he didn’t even move.
And now this indifference, this desolation began to frighten him. It was necessary to act, but Nikto, in whose body he was, did nothing.
“He has white hair, see?!”
"Maybe half-breed?"
"Lost her mind! There is no such hair, he is probably gray … "
"And the half-breeds?"
"He is gray! Hey, old man, go to the temple and ask for alms there, but here you have no place!”
"But he does not look like an old man!"
"What shall we do?"
They huddled together, deliberating. He heard only fragments of their phrases: “Beggar? Old man? Maybe he fluent? Half-breed? Plague?
Infection".
And he got up. And tries to go away. And they, seeing how awkwardly he tightens his lame leg, recoiled from him even more.
They did not ask him, why? They were lost in conjectures, but it never occurred to them to talk to him. Didn’t they consider him a person too? Did he feel like a man himself? Same as these people? They were like in another world, as if behind glass, and he had no desire to break this barrier and become one of them. Their attitude towards him did not jar him, did not upset and did not excite. Arel would probably feel the same if a homeless dog banged him on the street. So what? He would immediately forget about it. These people were just as distant, alien and not worth the attention for him now. Just a given. It would be foolish to react to the dog; he was just as indifferent to the humiliation of these people. He did not consider anything; he simply did not notice him. So, he did not care what happens to him and around him.
And Arel suddenly felt uneasy. He must wake up! Wake up!Wake up! And it was not freedom! Imaginary freedom! It was a captive! And he is not Nikto! He is the prince of Arel! Prince Arel, who thinks, makes
plans and takes offense at people, because they are not indifferent to him and he is one of them! And he does not want to be different anymore!
“I want to be myself again!”
And he screamed.
Hard hands shook him, what was the strength in them! The iron bars of the lattice are expanded, if necessary. This is Nik.
“Arel?” – he asks in a calm, everyday voice, he has long been accustomed to the fact that Arel often jumps up screaming at night.
And as confirming that everything is as usual, Arel jumps out of bed, despite the dizziness, which makes it darker in the eyes.
Nikto fits to the side again, tucking the mutilated half of his face into the pillow, but does not close his eyes. His eyes glitter in the dark, and he watches Arel light the candles, fumble around the table, rattling the bottles.
"What are you looking for?"
"Food!"
"?"
"I feel bad! I need to eat! I need to put myself in order! I … I do not want, do not want to become like you!"
Nikto is yawning.
“I see,” – he says indifferently. Another Arel nonsense, well, he has long been accustomed to this.
"Heck! There is nothing here! Nik!"
"Arel, we have no food here."
“And when did you eat?”
“Yesterday, we ate …”
“Nik! You are hungry!"
Nikto laughs softly and says nothing.
"What did you eat?"
Nikto thinks for a second.
“Vegetables, I don’t remember the name, they were completely rotten,”
– he laughs again.
“Did you eat rotten vegetables ?!”
“The servants fired them; we all ate. And you too."
Arel makes a movement of the head, as if it drives away the annoying fly from itself.
“And I?”
“Yes.”
“And Enriki?”
“And Henrik.”
“Does he again inject himself with "water"?”
“Yes,” – Nikto replies, the illogicality of Arel questions does not bother him.
“I promised you the golden mountains when I took you to the team, promised profits, lands, slaves! And what is the result! Rotten vegetables!’
“Carrot.”
“What?”
“I remembered there were carrots, and …”
“Stop doing that! Stop it, Nik, I'm ashamed!”
“Take it easy. I picked up pretty well at Dim in the Colosseum.”
“Yeah! And he gave me everything!”
“Not all. To restore the streets, you need a lot …”
“Streets! The streets are eating everything! And my people are starving! I'm a crappy boss! And I am hungry! I need to eat! And have some coffee, do we have coffee? Or water at the worst!”
Nikto moves his lips slightly, as if uttering a new phrase to himself.
“I do not want to die! I was a living corpse now, a walking corpse! This is scary! I have to appreciate my body, take care of it! Control it! I need to eat! I want to eat!”
“Well, go and eat! Who keeps you up! Just do not yell here in the middle of the night!” – Nikto tries to lie down more comfortably, closes his eyes.
“It was scary! It is unbearable! I am human! I want to be a man! This is such a happiness; I did not understand! I need a wash! It stinks from me!”
Nikto opens his eyes again and lets out a sigh of fatigue.
“Is there water?” – Arel rushes into the adjoining room, rattles the jugs. “Nik! Call a servant, let him bring warm water!”
“Wash yourself cold, huh?”
“Are you kidding me! It is cold as ice!”
“Arel, go to hell!”
“Why is it so cold! Why not melted the fireplace! Call the servant!”
“What good, if there is no fuel.”
“Fuel?”
“Wood! Firewood! Coal, I don't know …”
“Okay! I do it myself! I'll go down and do everything myself! Here you will be bent without me from cold and hunger, and no one will lift a finger to at least do something!”
“I feel neither one nor the other, Arel …”
“I know! That scares me! I want to feel! I want to feel hunger, cold, everything! All manifestations and emotions! As a person, not as an animal!”
Nikto laughs.
“What wrong with you?”
“Nothing! Just stayed a bit out of my skin!”
“And in whose? Animal’s?”
“Not! Nik! I was you! And … And it is wrong if you live like this …”
“Another glitch, Arel …”
“I would be happy about that! Let it be just a bad coming, because if this is your life, then this is hell! Why didn't you say anything to them? Did not explain? Although yes, you didn’t really know the language, they would be even more scared, and your voice …”
“What explained? To whom?”
Arel rushes to him, snapping abruptly, squeezing his shaggy head in his hands, clinging to himself.
“To these assholes! They humiliated you! Gods! How I love you! Why – don’t know! Why do I love you so much?” – he kisses Nikto on the injured forehead, on the scar. “Poor, poor my being! My poor monster!
You are a monster, Nik, do you know about this? And I love you so much!”
Nikto meekly allows him to squeeze himself, squeeze in clumsy embraces, touch the scars.
Arel removes him from his face, gazing in the wavering light of candles, his gaze glides over the body, neck, chest, and arms, all painted black for good.
“What a horror,” – he says quietly and squeezes Nikto again in his arms. “What a horror to be like you!”
He suddenly abruptly pulls away, as another thought comes to his mind:
“Would you like to be like me? Do not cripple? Would you like to be me?”
“You are in my heart.”
“Yes! For sure! I live in you! And you in me! That's why I catch such parishes! Did you do this?”
“If there is something wrong about you, then I have nothing to do with it!”
“I believe you now, strangely enough, why would you put such memories in my head! I probably really caught them myself, I was there, on this street in Lower City, at this well!”