Right hand. Prince of Darkness. Dmitry Nazarov
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.
– What happened to her, that fortune teller? – Eitan suddenly asked.
– Which one?
– The one who foretold the death of a young man.
– Oh, with her… Yes, in general, nothing good. – I wondered if I should go into the details of a mortal, but in the end I decided not to torment myself with ethical questions. I’m not an angel after all. – She died, fell into the Darkness, and spent… let’s say, a lot of time there. But then she got out anyway.
– Did you repent of your deed? he raised an eyebrow.
– Getting out of the Darkness is not so easy, – I laughed. – No, she got out of the songs.
If before Eitan was surprised, now he was simply taken aback.
– Songs?
I nodded.
– What is it like?
– Well… You can say, she rose, as if on a rope. For a long time, slowly, tearing his palms into blood, but still. You have no idea what music is capable of. If you love her with all your heart. Well, no one imagined it. We were all incredibly surprised. But then they realized that everything was natural.
My companion wanted to object, but a Gypsy girl approached us.
– Do you want me to tell you a fortune, beautiful? – she asked cheerfully, squatting next to us.
Her curly brown hair fell over her face and she pushed it back with a shake of her head. The wind, frolicking, played with thick curls.
– Why not? I exclaimed enthusiastically. – It will be interesting!
– Then let’s go closer to the fire.
Rising, she beckoned us to follow her and stepped towards the dancing flame. I followed.
– Will you risk it? Eitan asked softly, touching my shoulder. “I just said it myself, it’s not safe.
– Not for me, – I chuckled. Believe me, I have strong immunity.
– And you believe she won’t lie?
– Let’s see!
I rubbed my hands in anticipation.
– Everyone doubts, – smiled the fortune-teller, who apparently had a sensitive ear, since Eitan’s quiet words reached her ears in the general hubbub of voices. But as they say, if you don’t try, you won’t know. Are you ready to try your luck?
– Is always! I assured her and, in confirmation of my words, extended my open left palm to her.
The girl took a closer look, and soon the smile flew off her face. She looked up at me with confused eyes, then again stared at the hand, squinting and bringing it up to her face, as if reading ancient lines written in small, illegible handwriting.
Finally, she slowly lowered my hand.
– Perhaps your companion is right in his doubts. – Not to say that the confession was hard for her: the fortuneteller’s pride was not hurt, rather, she was at a loss. – The art of divination must have betrayed me today. Eat and drink, and the future will be known when it comes.
She was about to leave, but I grabbed her hand just in time.
– Oh no, that won’t do. You did see something. Why don’t you want to say?
– I saw it. But it doesn’t make sense.
– Well, that’s up to me, – I said. – Spread it.
The girl shrugged her shoulders and took the hand I extended again. She looked at her, looked up at me, then at Eitan, as if looking for support, waiting for us to share her feelings. But we didn’t even know what it was about, so we could only raise our eyebrows inquiringly. And with a sigh, she spoke:
I see two births and two deaths. The road to the future, which will lead to the source of origins. An oath to be kept and yet broken. Seven unlit candles that burn brightly. An enemy who turns out to be a friend, and a confrontation that is devoid of essence.
Once again, lifting her eyes from the palm of her hand, she looked at me with a mixture of former uncertainty and sadness. But the neighing of horses and loud human exclamations interrupted the divination.
An armed detachment left the forest for a clearing. In the flickering light of the fires and behind the tree trunks, you couldn’t see much, but there must have been at least a dozen of them. Chain mail made of tight-fitting rings, sharp-edged swords, some have knee pads made of leather and even metal. In general, everything that helps vulnerable human beings feel invulnerable. I didn’t like the energy they gave off. Waves, barely accessible to human perception, but for me as obvious as a bright light or a suffocating smell of burning.
The leader rode forward, looked around the clearing with a hard look, lingered briefly on Eitan and me, but then seemed to lose interest and spoke to the others.
– Gypsy! His Excellency Anthony William Blade, Earl of Thornfolk, declares your presence in his territory illegal!
– We are a nomadic people, captain, – said the same man who first greeted us that evening, firmly but politely. –