For a while they sat silently and waited for Tol and Nikto. Suddenly Lis raised his head.

"I've changed my mind. I'm for it. Squint-Eye, do it!"

"What?!" Squint-Eye didn't understand.

"Do what you wanted to! Do it now and let's be done with it!"

Squint-Eye didn't ask anything, got up quickly taking a small black bottle out of his secret pocket.

"You cannot!" Vil screamed seeing Squint-Eye's preparations. "Lis, what's going on?"

"Shut up, we're tired of you!" Lis got up and punched Vil's jaw. Vil didn't expect it, waved his hands losing balance – and another immediate blow made him fall on the floor. The third blow – a shattering kick of an iron-heeled boot – followed, and Vil lost consciousness.

Squint-Eye didn't even look back.

"I don't want him to interfere at the most important moment," Lis explained.

Squint-Eye walked up to Enriki and without a moment of hesitation, the way only he could do it – it was his special talent – quickly and calmly injected him 'black water'.

It was all they had time to do.

When Tol and Nikto entered the room, they understood everything at once.

"I've changed my mind, Tol," Lis said calmly; his eyes glittered again.

"What a shit you are!" Tol was infuriated. "You did it on purpose, just not to let Nikto vote!"

"What if I agreed with you, Lis?" Nikto asked. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the doorjamb, stood and looked at Lis. And Lis looked at him, at his face crossed by a scar, a scar that disfigured him so much, at his tousled fair hair.

"I don't want to trust you," Lis whispered.

"Why? You and I, we both went through it, we know…"

"I don't know anything!" Lis screamed.

"And who knows? The first and the best warrior of the Red – Sigmer?"

Lis started back.

"You're a traitor, Lis! A traitor!" Vil got up from the floor heavily. "You betrayed Enriki! I hate you! I don't know what kind of a man you were when you were called Sigmer but I know that now, when you're called Atley Alis, you're a real shit!"

* * *

Thick shining candles lit the room pleasantly making it warm and cozy. Obeying this soft play of shadows, the furs with animal heads didn't just bare their teeth but smiled. Leaning over an unconscious slave, Orel said:

"Come round, you dumb bitch!" and punched her belly again trying to make her regain consciousness. The slave didn't move.

Nikto who sat on the bed yawned. His arms were fully unwrapped and smeared with healing ointment from wrist to elbow.

"Are you going to come round, bitch?" Orel slapped the girl's cheek with such force that her head jerked aside unnaturally. "Shit! She's got on my nerves, Nik!"

"What do you want?"

"I want to love her! And she doesn't come round!"

"Fuck her."

"It's boring like that!"

"Really?"

"Don't laugh at me! Or you'll join her!"

"I'm so scared." Nikto reached for his precious lacquered box.

"No," there was plea in Orel's voice, "don't leave me! You're just sleeping and taking drugs, nothing else! I'm all alone! I don't want to get used to being alone! Do you hear me? Do you understand me?"

Nikto raised his grey eyes, looked at Orel somewhat questioningly.

"You don't need to answer," Orel turned away.

He leaned to the slave again, didn't find any changes and yanked her by the hair abruptly, raising her like a big doll. He slammed her head against the back of the bed. The massive bed shook and Nikto froze with a needle in his hand.

"Arel, move away from the bed," he said very quietly.

"She'd dead," Orel said watching blood leaking from the slave's nose.

"She is the fourth this week, Arel."

Orel kept silent.

"You didn't fuck any of them, you just kill them. Do you hate women?"

"I love them."

"Leave them alone, they won't help you."

"Do you forbid me?"

"Forbid you? No."

"You're leaving me in it, too!"

"Do you want me to tell you what to do?"

"Yes!"

"No."

The slave gave out a long quiet moan.

"Fucking shit! She's alive! Oh you little whore." Orel took out his knife. Nikto who watched him shook his head and injected a needle into his vein.

"I don't know where to make a hole in her to love her," Orel said thoughtfully running the blade over the girl's body. A thin nettle of cuts was turning into a strange bleeding ornament according to the insane fantasy of its author. Orel watched it, mesmerized.