Dmitry Nazarov - Right hand. Prince of Darkness

– Stop doing that! Eitan bucked, for some reason not laughing.

His brows furrowed angrily on his reddened face. The forest air didn’t seem to do him any good.

– Why? It really was funny.

– Neither the prince is funny. Everyone went crazy.

I didn’t argue with the angry man, but instead remarked:

– It’s already getting dark. It’s time to look for a place to sleep. – And, unable to resist, she added: – Since we did not manage to spend the night in the monastery with you.

Eitan’s eyes flashed angrily, but did not snarl, especially since the rashtang significantly slowed down the run, and we got the opportunity to look for a suitable place to stop.

– Look, it looks like someone is already there. I pulled on the reins and pointed into the depths of the forest, where the flames of the fire gleamed. – Shall we join? Maybe you can get something tasty.

– We have enough supplies of our own, – the companion grumbled.

However, it was not a refusal, but rather a manifestation of a bad mood. Eitan had nothing against the company and, grabbing a bag with the supplies mentioned, jumped to the ground. The two of us walked towards the nearest trees. I left Rashtanga to myself, and the guy either did not pay attention to this, or already managed to understand that this is in the order of things and you should not be surprised.

It soon became clear that two whole fires were burning ahead. A cheerful wind brought the smell of smoke and ringing cheerful voices. The darkness did not have time to finally thicken over the forest, and we easily spotted bright scarves and colorful skirts between the trunks.

– It looks like a Gypsy, – Eitan determined.

I peered ahead with redoubled interest. The Gypsies were a nomadic people who did not change their habitual way of life even after all the others quietly settled in the steppes, some in the foothills, and some in the hot desert. They were known for reading their hands, singing merry songs, and not accepting a roof over their heads. Well, and one more thing.

– I advise you to hide the purse, – Eitan warned.

– Nonsense! I didn’t agree. – You people love to invent scary tales about those who are even slightly different from you. And accuse them of all mortal sins. I guess it helps to deal with the eternal human uncertainty.

What other uncertainty?

Eitan slowed down, as if by accident, and he looked at me with a suspicious squint, as if he was trying to read something special in my face.

– Suddenly I’m not the right one, – I explained, not caring in the least about his suspicions. “Suddenly something is wrong with me. As long as everyone behaves like me, such doubts can be ignored. But as soon as someone else looms on the horizon, anxiety begins to torment you with renewed vigor. And the decision comes by itself. To prove that the other one is worse than you, that his way is definitely wrong. And it is better to completely drive away or destroy. You think this will solve the problem. But, here’s the problem: others disappear, but anxiety remains.

– So you are convinced that you should not worry about money? – pragmatically inquired Eitan, pretending to have missed the whole philosophy on deaf ears.

– I definitely shouldn’t, – I beamed. – I don’t have any money.

The companion grinned. The monastic adventures began to be forgotten, and his mood improved significantly.

– So you think the Gypsy rumors are prejudice? – he chuckled. – What about divination? Do you think they are telling the truth?

– Some certainly, – I replied with conviction. Gypsies have the highest level of foresight among the living. But do not rush to trust. I raised my index finger in warning. – A fortune teller is different for a fortune teller. I met one soothsayer who looked at the lines of the hand, understanding absolutely nothing about them. There were no abilities – and that’s it. But there was nowhere to go, everyone went to her to ask about the future, and waited for answers. Well, that’s what she told the clients, what would come into her head. And once – I don’t know with what joy – she predicted to an impressionable boy that in the coming year he would face a painful death from damage to internal organs.

– I see, – Eitan nodded. – Nothing happened to him in a year, and when the time expired, he called her to account?

– If only, – I replied. – As I said, the guy turned out to be very impressionable. After leaving the fortune-teller, he was never able to return to normal life. I only thought about how little he had left. And everyone was waiting for a terrible disease that would bring him to the grave in a matter of weeks. As a result, he could not stand the constant nervous tension and committed suicide. But since the wounds were inflicted clumsily, he did not die immediately. Lasted about a week.

– And died from damage to internal organs?

Eitan, gloomy, slowed down again, almost stopped.

– Exactly, – I confirmed. – You see, predictions come true more often than the incredulous tend to believe. But the question is why does this happen. Because Gypsy was good at hand reading? It happens. Although the future is not carved in stone, and even the lines on our palms can change in some cases. But it also happens that the prediction feeds itself.

I walked around the pine, putting my hand on the uneven bark, feeling the energy that the tree breathed. Yes, I remember, I love coniferous forests. They willingly share their strength with travelers. And, of course, not a drop is lost on this. Sharing energy is like bleeding. The new one works better than the old one.

– Of itself? What is it like?

– It’s very simple, – I shrugged. If there were no prediction, there would be no realization. This is a very common thing. Surely you have heard that famous story about the poor fellow who was told that he would kill his father and sleep with his own mother?

– I vaguely remember. But no details. It looks like it ended badly.

– Worse than ever. Hearing the prophecy, he ran away from home to be away from his parents, but, the trouble is, he was an adopted child. On the road, he met and killed a man who was none other than his real dad. Then you will guess. And if there were no prediction, he would sit quietly at home and, maybe, he would never meet his real parents. So think carefully before you turn to a fortune teller.

– I don’t tend to go to fortune-tellers at all, – Eitan said.

– Not inclined, but I came to them, – I chuckled.

Despite our slowness, we finally reached a clearing in which the well-fed flames of two fires danced merrily. Small brightly colored tents were set up under the trees, and men and women in traditional gipsy garb, mostly barefoot, walked across the short grass. The prickly needles, inevitable in a pine forest, did not bother them at all.

– Can I join you, kind people? I asked cheerfully. We have fresh rich bread, which we will be happy to share.

We also have food. A middle-aged man with a short thick beard waved his hand in greeting. – Come on. Gypsies are always happy to have guests.

– It’s interesting that the most hospitable are those who have no home, – I teased.

Eitan gave me a warning pinch on the arm, I must say, quite painfully. But the friendliness of my tone was obvious, so the addressee only chuckled.

– The Gypsy house is a sky strewn with lamps of stars, – he objected. Wherever we go, he is always with us.

– Beautifully said, – I said.

Eitan and I sat down on the grass not far from the fire, but at the same time a little apart. Why without the need to invade someone else’s space? Moreover, the evening was warm, and human bodies did not require the proximity of fire.