The Mist and the Lightning. Part I. Ви Корс

      They left through the backdoor of 'Backara' and walked straight to the backyard, five dark figures blending into the darkness of the night.

      Slaves guarding the horses rushed to them and bowed. The slaves were not deceived with thick black leather of the cloaks, they knew who was coming. Horses snorted, stepping from one hoof to the other, sensing their masters' approach.

      Orel tossed a small coin to the chief of the slaves who knelt bowing in gratitude. Other slaves also knelt following his lead. They knew it was not just any customers but their masters.

      "Get off!" Orel waved his hand impatiently.

      The slave grabbed the coin and backed away without raising his head, to his shelter behind the stables. Others followed him soundlessly.

      Orel walked up to the horses and untied his beautiful horse.

      "Are you astride?" he asked Nikto.

      "Yes, of course. It would've taken me three hours to walk here from the Unclean District."

      "Where did you leave it?"

      "Nearby. Two quarters away from here."

      "Did you leave it alone?" Tol asked.

      "Him. I have a stallion. No, of course not. My servant is watching over him."

      "Is your servant one of the Unclean?"

      "Yes."

      "Can I look at him?"

      "Tol, don't you have anything better to do?" Orel asked. He patted his horse, pressed his mask to its nose. "Let's go, my dear."

      Holding their horses by the bridle they walked to the place where Nikto left his stallion. It was quiet around, just from 'Backara' one could hear soft music and sometimes bursts of female laughter.

      Despite limping, Nikto walked quickly and with confidence, easily finding his way in the dark streets. Suddenly he stopped. Orel nearly ran into him from behind.

      "Fuck, Nikto!" he growled softly. Nikto looked back quickly, laughed glancing at Orel.

      "I left my stallion here."

      And at once there was soft clattering from the darkness, and the horse came up straight to Nikto.

      "Where is the Unclean?" Tol asked.

      Nikto made a hissing sound. A black silhouette emerged from the darkness near the wall, approached his master.

      "What do you want from him?" Nikto asked Tol.

      "I want him to show his face."

      "No," Orel said. "It's just unhealthy curiosity. You're not a child, Tol. Nikto, I order you to send your slave away."

      Nikto quietly said a few words in the language of the Unclean and the servant again disappeared in the darkness without saying a word.

      "I know what you said to him," Lis said. "You told him to go home, right?"

      "Yes, something like that."

      "You were not speaking 'true' Unclean to him but some adapted version."

      "The Unclean in the city understand only it." Nikto mounted his stallion making him rear.

      "Let's go," Orel commanded spurring his beautiful horse and led the way along the street. The others followed him.

      They had to take a roundabout way to reach the gates of the Upper City that were always opened for Orel. The Upper City was full of lights and people as always, they had to slow down a little but Orel knew how to avoid the most crowded streets and squares.

      He directed the horse into narrow, empty streets and soon they were ascending the city tier after tier.

      It was quiet around Orel's castle. He looked back, the riders stopped and turned their horses.

      A beautiful and sublime view lay in front of them.

      Far below, the night city spread in its magnitude, piercing the sky with spears of sharp towers that lined the fortress wall looking like a thin snake. The downtown sparkled with colorful lights, life there didn't stop for a moment, unlike in the Lower City that had only its main streets lit. Torch fires glimmered over the Coliseum but farther the city was drowning in the dark, its contours merging into blackness. One couldn't see where it ended; just separate, distant lights flickering here and there proved that there was a city somewhere in this night, this quietness. The city that was not asleep.

      "I hate this city," Orel said. "It's too small for me!"

      Everyone laughed because the city in front of them was enormous.

      "I see the lights in the quarters of the Unclean. What are they doing now?" he asked Nikto.

      "Some dirty things, likely," Nikto said. "Can they even do anything but dirty things?"

      The group of friends laughed again.

      "No, I mean it. Many times I looked at their neighborhoods from here and they always have lights at night. I thought the Unclean didn't need so much light."

      "They don't need light at all. They work," Nikto said, "and they will be working throughout the night, in their workshops and forges. It's the light of their ovens."

      "Let's go," Orel said, turning his horse and riding to the castle.

      The bridge was down, a servant was hastily opening the gates. The watchman on the tower had given him a signal that the master was coming. The square in front of the main entrance was lit brightly.

      "Orel, why do you never raise your bridge?" Enriki asked.

      "What for?" Orel said. "Let anyone who cares come, and we'll deal with them."

      Tol cackled in approval.

      "Wow! What a horse you have!" Orel was looking at Nikto's stallion in the bright light of torches. The stallion stepped from one hoof to another impatiently and snorted: he wanted to continue his gallop. Nikto pushed off the hood of his cloak and took off his mask. He