The Mist and the Lightning. Part III. Ви Корс

it: or rather, he didn't want to see, he didn't care. Dumb indifference overtook his consciousness, and he just walked, neither too fast nor too slowly, walked to a small square Orel had pointed for him. There were a lot of restaurants and small shops that offered their goods right in the street. Under the sounds of music passer-byes warmed up themselves with alcoholic drinks while continuing walking. Squint-Eye turned to one of side streets and stopped. The man he needed wasn't there yet but he would come – a note would make him leave his place. Leaning against a wall of some building Squint-Eye waited. It was getting darker and colorful street lamps hanging in garlands above the street rocked in the wind softly casting bright spots of light at the pavement and at the figure frozen at the wall. It seemed an eternity had passed before the man he needed appeared among infrequent passer-byes.

      Squint-Eye knew his face; he knew all somewhat rich and respectable people in the Upper City. As soon as you gave him a name, he knew who the man was and where he lived. An elderly man walked unhurriedly, smiling and nodding at the acquaintances he met on his way. His house was located a bit down the street and everyone knew him here. Next to him, holding his arm, his young daughter walked. She also was smiling: they were going to visit her fiancé who lived nearby, and it seemed finally her father had warmed up towards him. At least he agreed to meet and talk. To see her beloved and maybe to soften her father's heart at a moment of necessity the girl had convinced him to take her along.

      They likely had noticed Squint-Eye but they didn't pay attention. Their thoughts were too preoccupied with the meeting that waited for them. The man in black moved away from the wall; multi-colored spots of light ran over his covered face. Without paying attention to other passer-byes he walked up to the man and stuck his knife into his chest in one precise, very calm motion. One blow was enough – through the knife Squint-Eye felt the last pumps of the pierced heart; it meant the man was dead. Anyway, Squint-Eye didn't doubt it. He pulled out the knife. The old man's gaze kept holding incomprehension; he slowly collapsed onto the pavement. The girl screamed, loudly, wildly. A few people stopped, turned at her scream. It seemed only now Squint-Eye noticed that the man was not alone. He looked at the girl, and she stopped screaming, backed away but it was too late. Everything happened instantly: she screamed again, not so loudly, and with pain, not with fear. Squint-Eye turned and walked away. Some people ran to the dead man and his dying daughter. They didn't even try to stop him. Someone whistled calling for the guard. Squint-Eye didn't speed up. People who heard screams ran past him from the square; women shrieked.

      Someone shouted: "Hold him! Hold him!" People who ran to the place of the accident literally bumped into Squint-Eye and didn't notice him. Could they even guess that a man who walked so calmly was a criminal? In the square he started pushing his way through the crowd.

      King guards on their horses appeared, they tried to get to the narrow street shouting at people. Someone pushed Squint-Eye so hard that he nearly got under a horse's hooves.

      "Watch out!" the guard yelled.

      The girl was dying; she tried to say something.

      "One… one-ey…" She didn't finish.

      People looked for a man in a long black coat, with black shoulder-long hair and in the mask with only one eye-slit, without a slit for the other eye.

      They ran around all nearby streets and alleys. "He couldn't walk far, he's hiding like a rat," they said.

      Squint-Eye paid a coin to a boy and picked up his horse.

      "Something has happened up there," the boy-servant said. "I'd like to go and see but I can't, my master will beat me."

      Squint-Eye didn't answer anything. When he reached the gates of the Upper City, the first sounds of alarm came; the guards got worried, and the watchman started giving a signal in reply. It meant that the Upper City would be closed now. Squint-Eye crossed the border of the Upper City and the gates were shut behind him. He spurred the horse and turned to one of the Lower City's streets going to 'Backara' and Orel.

      * * *

      "Bring him." Orel pressed his hands against the table, leaned back as if trying to push the table away from him.

      "And if he locked the door?"

      "Knock it out, for fuck's sake! Lis, do I need to explain you such things?" Orel said in exasperation continuing to push against the table. Two front legs of his armchair rose in the air dangerously.

      Lis smoked; his whole appearance expressed his unwillingness. But he decided not to annoy Orel and walked out of the room.

      The door to Squint-Eye's room was unlocked. Squint-Eye lay on the bed, over the furs, fully dressed, with his weapon and in dirty boots; he only tossed his mask on the floor.

      "Orel calls for you," Lis said gloomily. He stopped in the doorway, clearly unwilling to stay here longer, and shook the ash from his cigarette on the floor. Squint-Eye got up heavily without even looking at Lis, coughed thickly. His short tousled hair fell onto his face. Lis winced.

      "Don't dally, you dirt, everyone is waiting for you," he said turning away.

      Squint-Eye raised his head abruptly. If only Lis could see this gaze! But Lis had already turned away and left.

      * * *

      Squint-Eye sat down silently in the place Orel pointed for him. It was not his place but this way he sat right opposite his master.

      "Well, talk," Orel said unkindly. "What have you done?"

      Squint-Eye didn't look at anyone and kept silent.

      "Listen, Bert, don't get on my nerves! Look here and stop making this dumb face!"

      Squint-Eye looked at Orel obediently with his only eye; it was void of any expression.

      "He's drugged up to his ears!" Lis said.

      "Why are you so moody, Squint-Eye?" Tol asked; he stopped digging with a fork in his teeth and spat on the floor.

      "Shit, don't spit on the carpet, it's not stables here!" Orel exclaimed.

      "Fuck off, Tol," Squint-Eye said and laughed.

      "Whom are you telling to fuck off?" Tol got up.

      Squint-Eye leaned back against the back of the chair; his shoulders shook in laughter.