Ви Корс - The Mist and the Lightning. Part V

Probably, then they got used. They understood that I would not be bent, they would not let me, they would not let me go so easily. And then the toy finally got tired, they stopped dragging me out of the camera so often, I got a break, and I had the opportunity to think. And then I saw them. As I said, I paid attention to them first out of caution, well, and then simply out of interest.

They were from the nobility. Notable criminals who went to jail, what could be more stupid! However, for the most part, they were notable fallen scum. He brought one, already quite old, and I must give him his due, he did it quite competently and even fairly. The rest obediently obeyed him. There were about twenty of them. But not their leader attracted my attention, no. Among them, I soon began to allocate another. Probably just because he saw that he was as young as me.

He was the youngest of them. He never brought the gear and did not call on a date. He was quiet and always kept a little apart from everyone. I never heard his voice. Others didn’t humiliate him, but they didn’t say much either. I felt some kind of estrangement, some kind of boundaries between him and the others. When he took off his shirt, I saw that his back was wonderfully tattered with a whip, the scars were already healed. One of his eyes was always bandaged. At first, I waited that after a while he would take it off, but the days went by, and he still continued to remain in it, without taking off even for the night. And I decided that he was one-eyed. Despite his youth, he also had a lot to experience. And it brought us even closer.

He silently obeyed the established rules, but never participated in anything on his own initiative, preferring to sit, crouching against the wall, knees tucked to his chest and buried in his face. He had long hair the color of a raven's wing, and looking at how they scattered on his knees when he hid his face, how they touched the floor, I suffered because my long hair was once mercilessly and shamefully cut off, and now only barely grown to the shoulders. I was probably jealous of the fact that his hair did not touch, that he was not dishonored like me. My haircut now was a common hairstyle, not a noble warrior. I did not want to look at him and could not take my eyes off. I envied him some stupid childish envy, although I knew with my mind that there was nothing to envy! He had a beautiful pale face, perhaps even a little more childish, but no longer healthy: haggling sunken cheeks, not at all childishly protruding cheekbones and lips compressed into one line. As time passed, I grew stronger, and my curiosity grew stronger. And at some point, I do not know what came over me when he was nearby, I suddenly called him.

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