We arrived in Kitezh around midnight. The taxi driver demanded triple the usual fare just to pick us up, but given the circumstances, we didn't have much room to argue. At least he didn't flat-out refuse.
Otherwise, we would've had to hike all the way to Belozersk and either try to catch a taxi there or wait for the morning bus.
The school had long since fallen into slumber. No windows glowed with light, and we felt like bandits on a clandestine mission in a moonless night.
I had already come up with a few well-rehearsed scenarios in case the night prefects tried to lecture us again in the corridor. As it turned out, none of them were needed. This time, we were met by none other than Gromov himself. He stood before us in his black robe, his ever-present eye patch adding its usual touch of grim atmosphere.
I couldn't help but wonder whether we might manage to get away with a two-day suspension, rather than becoming permanently marooned at Kitezh until New Year's Eve.
Roman regarded us with a stern, shadowed gaze that could kill a Distortion beast on the spot. We, in turn, carefully examined our boots. At that moment, they seemed like the most fascinating objects in the world.
We probably looked quite the sight. Clad in dirty and torn clothes and covered in dried blood, we looked as if we had just stepped out of some gritty TV show, where young nobles had to struggle to survive in the city's slums.
"Sir, we—" Alexey began, but Roman cut him off before he could finish.
"Both of you to the infirmary," he commanded. "Now!"
Relieved that we weren't about to be executed on the spot, we rushed toward the medical wing. As it turned out, they had been expecting us. At the head of the healing squad was the eternally stern and grumpy Dementiy Bronislavovich Verigin, a figure so feared by the students that even the bravest dared not meet his gaze.
Rumor had it that once you ended up in his care, that was when the real torment began. What followed was a relentless series of harrowing procedures, all in the name of a speedy recovery at any cost. Some said he was worse than a battlefield surgeon. Most agreed that even the cruelest dentist didn't come close.
"Strip down to your underwear, you slackers," he barked.
We complied, shedding our clothes and stacking them on chairs, standing there in tense silence, awaiting further instructions. Muttering something under his breath, he approached us at a leisurely pace and began the examination.
First, he painstakingly and painfully prodded my wounded shoulder.
Then he carefully examined Alexey with the same meticulous attention.
And then he set to work.
I was up first. Verigin ran his hands several times over my shoulder, and I felt that familiar, gentle tingling, just like I'd experienced recently when Alexey was treating me. I was on the verge of relaxing, convinced that the tales about Verigin's morbid experiments were false, when, suddenly, a sharp, stabbing pain pierced through me. The damn scoundrel!
It felt like I was rolling in bramble.
"Be still, Temnikov. What are you hissin' like a serpent for?" the old healer grumbled, his voice thick with mockery, refusing to cease his taunts.
"You fancy yourself an adventurer, do you? Well, then, you'd best learn to lick your wounds, you blockhead."
Doing my best not to show how much it hurt, I endured Verigin's treatment in silence for several long minutes. Then, all at once, the torment stopped. I looked down at the wound. What had moments ago been oozing blood was now just a vivid red stain. Verigin's skill was undeniable; not a trace of the injury remained.
"The redness will fade in a couple of days," he said, beckoning Alexey over with a casual flick of his finger. "You've muddied up your face pretty good... I'm tempted to leave it like that so you'd think twice next time before you get yourself into a mess."
Alexey frowned as he approached. Within a minute, he was gritting his teeth from pain.
When the healer finished, we turned to dress but were stopped.
"Who gave you permission?" Verigin asked curtly, as if the clothes weren't ours but his own property. "Now, straight into the shower and to bed. I don't wanna hear another peep from you, you hear me?"
He strode over to one of the wardrobes, pulled out a pair of black pajamas emblazoned with Kitezh's emblem, and tossed them to us.
"Scram."
"Yessir!"
I felt much better after the shower. I would've felt even better had I been given something to eat but beggars couldn't be choosers.
The ward wasn't completely empty. Besides us and the healers on duty, there were two other patients.
As I drifted into sleep, lost in thought about what these unfortunate souls might be lying there for, one of them began to thrash frantically in his dreams.
"Get him away from me!" he cried in his sleep.
Ah.
They were the Maple prefects from last time. I had thought they'd have been released by now. Dorian and I might have pushed things a little too far.
Ignore them, Dorian muttered drowsily. Let's get some sleep.
They'll be out in a couple of days.
As he said that, I suddenly felt an overwhelming desire to sleep as well. Today had been unusually exhausting.
Even in the haze of half-sleep, I saw Ignat's skeleton lying among the seaweed. I was approaching him once again, trying to slip the cross from his neck, when he suddenly reached out his hand and, in the crisp, clear voice of Alexey, said:
"Get up."
I was taken aback. What did he mean by that?
"Get up," the skeleton repeated, and then, just as suddenly, he dissolved into nothingness, as if he'd never been there.
I blinked and opened my eyes to find Alexey standing before me, already dressed in his clothes. The room was flooded with light.
"What time is it?" I asked, still unable to believe that dawn had already broken.
"Ten o'clock," he replied.
"We missed breakfast..." I sighed, stretching and sitting up on the bed, glancing around. "Those two are gone."
"And thank goodness for that," Alexey muttered with relief. "They kept me awake all night with their incessant whining. I was this close to finding some cotton to stuff in my ears and put a curse on you myself."
At that moment, I realized something.
"We missed the morning classes... I suppose that's our compensation for missing out on breakfast."
"I wouldn't relax just yet," Alexey grumbled. "Verigin said Gromov is waiting for us..."
Just when I thought my mood had improved somewhat, a wave of gloom washed over me once more.
So much about letting us recover in peace and quiet...
I changed into my clothes, which in the light of the new day were even more miserable today than yesterday. I looked like a road bandit. I was several broken teeth away from looking like a proper street urchin.
Roman awaited us in the very same office where Verigin had conducted the inspection the day before.
Today, he appeared less intimidating. His gaze had softened slightly, and his face no longer looked angry. Even his beard, which had been wild and unruly overnight, was neatly in place this morning.
He waited patiently until we sat down on a small, tidy sofa, then placed his hands on the table and let out a sigh.
"Well, gentlemen, you may start your story. You first, Naryshkin."
"There's not much to tell, sir." Alexey shrugged with a faint smile.
"Max and I lost track of time."
"I see," Roman drawled. "Well, gentlemen, if you are so eager to stay in Kitezh every day until the end of the year, all you need to do is ask.
Naryshkin, I'm sure your driver will be thrilled to go on a vacation..."
"Let's not be so hasty, sir!" Alexey exclaimed, perking up and shifting nervously on the sofa. "I'm telling the truth. Just not the whole truth."
"Then you'd better start talking," Roman advised with a calm but firm tone, glancing at his watch. "But be quick. I don't have all day."
You're done for, Max. Dorian chuckled. Your buddy's about to sell you out.
"I see you never had real friends," I said, unwilling to give credence to his words.
Trust me, kid, I've got more experience than you think, Dorian continued, deliberately trying to ruffle my nerves. I know people like the back of my hand. They're all the same. All too quick to stab you in the back the moment you turn around.
"Same? Is that what you think of me as well?" I asked irritably, my patience wearing thin. He had a real talent for getting under my skin.
What does that have to do with you?
Seeing that I wasn't planning to continue the conversation, Dorian fell silent. Meanwhile, Alexey took a deep breath and began his story.
"We went out for a walk in Belozersk. We had dinner at The Golden Goose, shared a cherry pastry or two at The Roasted Chestnut, and then strolled along Tverskoy Boulevard. Somewhere along the way, we started talking about alchemy, and before we knew it, we found ourselves in the park. That's when we ran into a group of local troublemakers, maybe a year or two older than me, harassing a girl. Words were exchanged, and, well, it escalated into a fight," he said, gesturing to my torn shirt. "You can see for yourself."
"Commendable." Roman nodded approvingly. "I'd expect nothing else from two young gentlemen."
"Naturally," Alexey agreed, noticing the smile on Roman's face.
"We're still members of the nobility, after all. There were three of them, yet we fought with the ferocity of tigers."
"Did you win?" Roman raised an inquisitive brow.
"Of course," Alexey assured him. "What other outcome could there have been?"
"It's encouraging to hear that our students caused a stir among the Belozersk hooligans. I'd recommend you consider organizing some sort of knightly order. It seems Kitezh doesn't have one like that yet. Perhaps it wouldn't be amiss to request a token of gratitude from the city mayor?"
"Well, that's not strictly necessary," I couldn't help but interject, seeing that the situation was unfolding quite favorably for us.
"Why not? After everything you went through," Roman said, his tone darkening. "Especially since your wounds weren't just from fists.
Verigin mentioned burns... Some kind of acid, apparently."
"Exactly! Just as we started turning the tide, one of them hurled a bottle that exploded the moment it hit the ground. Whatever was inside scorched us a little," I lied with a shrug, trying to sound unfazed. "The stench was unbearable. Like burning rubber mixed with rotten eggs."
"I seem to recall something along those lines myself," Alexey quickly added. "It was dark, after all... It's kinda hard to remember all the details."
Roman scrutinized us with a heavy gaze for several moments, then shifted his focus to Alexey.
"When you were asked to look after Temnikov, that didn't mean you should throw yourself headlong into danger with him."
"I know, sir," Alexey replied penitently, sighing deeply. "It just happened that way."
"In that case, don't let this happen again," Roman said sternly.
"Next time, I won't be as patient. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, sir," we replied in unison.
"Good. Now go to your rooms and change. You're just in time for your afternoon classes. I suppose I don't have to mention that you two are banned from going to Belozersk this weekend?"
"Yes, sir," we mumbled in unison and, like scolded children, picked ourselves up from our chairs and headed out of the office.
"Oh, and one more thing," Roman added as we reached the door.
"Starting today, you're on archive duty until the next weekend. Every day for three hours after class. I'll see you there, gentlemen."
"Yes, sir..."
*** The archive lay beneath the main building, hidden deep within the basement. The archivist who had led us there wore a stern, almost forbidding expression as he explained the tasks ahead. Then, just as abruptly, he left, and we were alone.
At first, there was no need for conversation. In silence, we wandered through the orderly rows of cabinets that surrounded us, stretching from the polished floor to the vaulted ceiling. The lower sections were sealed shut, but higher up, the shelves displayed the thick, vividly colored spines of thousands of books, lined up like perched gargoyles, watching from above.
The archive proved to be colossal, vastly larger than one might imagine. It was an endless labyrinth of knowledge.
Everywhere, signs hung from the cabinets, guiding the way through this maze. Without them, it would have been all too easy to lose oneself among the endless corridors. Our destination was the section labeled "144-1," where ancient grimoires and manuscripts were stored, works authored by writers whose surnames began with "R."
Inside, an eerie silence reigned. Only now and then did we hear faint crackling, as if flashes of electrical lightning were darting through the air, piercing the quiet with their fleeting, ghostly sparks.
"Do you hear that crackling? Sounds just like in our family library," I said to the grim-faced Alexey as we stomped ahead. "Only here, it's way louder. Any idea what it could be?"
"Our family librarian once told me it's the sound of spells crackling in ancient grimoires, when the pages start getting too cramped."
I never knew a sane librarian. Dorian chuckled. It's all those books they read. Makes their imagination run wild...
"That sounds like a silly explanation..."
Alexey spread his hands and shrugged.
"That's what I've been told."
"Why are you in such a bad mood? We have two crystals waiting for us back in the dorm, begging to be sold. Or are you upset because of Belozersk? Next time we're near The Roasted Chestnut, I'll treat you to their famous caramel cake."
"I was supposed to go out with Anastasia," Alexey grumbled. "But instead of holding her hand during a scary movie, I'm stuck here with you."
"Oh... Yeah, okay, I see why that would get you upset. But what's the point of being angry? There's nothing we can do about it right now, is there? Just tell her what happened. I'm sure she'll understand."
"And what if she doesn't? What if she refuses to go out with me again?"
"Why would she?"
"She might think I'm avoiding her or something. I don't know. Girls are weird."
"They are..." I nodded. "Still, you can't know until you ask, right?"
Alexey looked at me for a moment longer, then sighed deeply and waved his hand dismissively.
As we continued our wandering in silence, all of a sudden, we spotted a cat. A sleek black feline, with one ragged ear and a mischievous, confident gleam in its eyes. Clutched in its teeth was a mouse.
"A cat!" Alexey pointed at it. "I wonder where it came from..."
"The archivist mentioned rats the size of dogs," I said. "Someone's got to catch them, right?"
"Max... I'm pretty sure he was just messing with us. Some old school legend he trots out for every poor soul sent down here," Alexey said with a faint smile. "There are no rats down here."
"Well, there are mice and cats," I said, kneeling down in front of the feline. "He looks a bit like our Gromov, don't you think? Same fierce, intimidating gaze... He's just missing the eye patch."
"Now that you've mentioned it... He kinda does look like him."
Alexey chuckled. "I wonder if there are more cats wandering about..."
I looked around, listening closely. I couldn't sense the living, of course, but the dead? I had a knack for that, especially at my age.
"There's definitely another cat here. Fell in the line of duty, waging its endless war against mice and rats... Or maybe just lost the battle to time."
Alexey looked at me in surprise, then looked at his surroundings, then looked back at me again.
"How do you know that?"
"I can feel it. I have a Dark Gift too, remember?" I said. "You don't feel anything?"
Alexey paused for a moment, then shrugged.
"Nothing. Your Gift's pretty strong. Stronger than mine, at least for now. We're only supposed to start sensing necromantic energy by the end of second year anyway."
"I'm not mistaken, right? There's only one, yeah?" I inquired, testing myself.
If we're only talking about cats and not mice or rats...
"Ah, so there are rats here after all?"
There were. Now, not anymore. Only mice and cats.
That was good enough for me.
I gently stroked the cat and glanced at Alexey.
"Wanna see something cool?"
"I do, but..." A hesitant expression flickered across the prince's face.
"I don't wanna get into more trouble..."
"We'll be fine," I assured him. "Watch this."
For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, a sharp clicking sound filled the air, rapidly approaching. Within seconds, we spotted a skeleton of a cat, trotting swiftly in our direction.
The black feline spun around, saw its resurrected companion, and, startled, dropped the mouse from its mouth. Without hesitation, the skeleton stepped forward, grabbed the rodent, and devoured it in one swift motion.
"It fell out!" Alexey exclaimed, watching as the mouse slipped through the skeleton's ribs and tumbled back onto the floor.
We both chuckled as the black cat tilted its head in wonder and flicked its ear. Actually, there were three of us. Dorian had also joined in the merriment.
The skeleton, undeterred, kept swallowing the mouse again and again. Each time, the tiny creature ended up on the ground. Eventually, the black feline grew tired of the game. Its initial fear of the necro-cat vanished, and with a swift snatch, it seized the mouse and darted down the corridor at lightning speed. Its skeletal friend was quick to give chase.
Having laughed ourselves to tears, we wiped our eyes and continued onward toward section "144-1," which, according to the signs, was still deeper in this labyrinth of shelves and parchment.
"How long before that cat's just a pile of bones again?" Alexey asked, his face lit with genuine amusement.
"At least a month, I think," I said. "I put in as much energy as I could."
"A month? Why so long?"
"If the archives can have dog-sized rats, why not a skeletal cat?
Let's give Kitezh a new legend to add to its collection of fantastical stories."