like a possessed person. However, it doesn't matter anymore. Tell me what do you intend to do next?”
“I don’t know yet,” said Lis.
His father looked at him very closely.
“You know. But you don't want to tell me. I'm not your enemy.”
Lis reflexively reached for his cigarettes and lit one. Igmer just shook his head silently and winced. Lis, without taking a couple of puffs, quickly put out his cigarette in a porcelain vase:
“Sorry.”
“What to do now, it stinks anyway! Smoke! What a disgusting habit!”
But Lis didn't light a new cigarette. He still tried not to meet his father's eyes:
“I really don't know yet,” he repeated and quickly looked at Igmer, who looked at him reproachfully.
“Some time ago I heard rumors that red commander Sigmer had appeared across the river. With his army, he cleaned the territories and put things in order, burned the regional outpost. I…” Igmer hesitated. “I wanted to believe and didn’t believe. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t think of anything, I buried you and mourned. And I was afraid that I was just flattering myself with false hopes, and there was an impostor walking across the river, hiding behind your legendary name. But when I learned that Sigmer had captured Crimson Rock… then… I believed it was you. Only you could do it! Crimson Rock is too tough for anyone. And I left the Upper World, I was waiting for you here. Because I knew my Sigmer would not stop and would move on. I knew that you would come to Ore town.”
Lis was silent, his head bowed.
“Do you know what to do next?” Igmer took out Marcus’ folded leaflet from his pocket. “And what's that?”
Lis looked at the leaflet:
“Just agitation.”
“No. Not just agitation. We thought about it with you, planned, dreamed. Many reds are thinking about independence. And now even more. We are tired of the war with the blacks. The war turned into an absurd and unpromising action. You appeared at the right time and in the right place.”
And, since Lis was still silent, his father asked:
“Tell me, how did you manage to survive in the Black City, among enemies?”
“I took on the service of Prince Arel Chig… Chester, he needed an experienced strategist in the fight against competitors for spheres of influence in the city.”
“Are you taking substances?”
Lis shook his head slowly, and, lifting the sleeve of his jacket, showed his father a chained wrist.
“Didn't you take it off? Didn't get rid of it?” His father was surprised. “Do you still wear the bracelet with which I chained you?”
“Yes. I never took “black water” again, I kept my vow to you.”
“I believe you,” Igmer said, “simply because if you continued to do this, you would not be sitting here now.”
And Lis finally looked at him point-blank.
And Igmer for the first time in all this time changed for a second in his face:
“Now I recognize you,” he whispered and was the first to look away.
He got up:
“You probably need to put yourself in order and relax…”
“No. I have a lot to do.”
“Okay. We will still have time to talk, discuss further actions, and you will see that I am your ally and you can trust me.”
“I trust you. I would like to introduce you to my comrades and friends.”
21
Overcoming obstacles
Lis, along with his father, entered the living room, where his friends were waiting for him.
“This is my father Igmer,” said Lis, “father, this is Prince Arel Chester, my patron in the Black City,” Arel, having heard these words of Lis, as always looked at Igmer with arrogant indifference and superiority and, as usual, said nothing.
And Kors even with some envy thought about how the prince managed to make such an expression on his face, despite the still clearly visible bruise under his eye and a black dot on the tip of his nose.
“This is Vitor Kors,” continued Lis, and Kors was pleased that he introduced him, though not the first, but immediately after Arel, “Vitor Kors is the father of my wife Karina, and he helps me in everything,” said Lis. Kors tried to make the same face as Arel, not knowing that he did not need to do anything for this.
Lis’ father smiled a little, and although Kors didn’t hear his thoughts, he realized that he remembered his name and knew who Vitor Kors was, but Igmer didn’t say anything.
“This is Nik,” Lis continued, pointing to Nikto who got up from the chair when Lis and his father entered the room, “Nik is the commander of the unclean.”
“Nik Kors is my son,” said Vitor Kors.
And on the face of Lis was reflected some surprise, but he remained silent, and his father perceived this, in the opinion of all those present, the unexpected revelation of Kors with absolute indifference.
“Zaf is an officer of Nik, and Parky is the captain of Vitor Kors,” Lis introduced also the unclean ones, without in any way indicating their belonging to another race, however, it was understandable anyway.
“I’m glad to meet my son’s comrades-in-arms,” said Igmer on duty, “and I congratulate you on your victory.”
He spoke in black with a slight accent of reds.
After a pause and waiting for a while, seeing that everyone was silent, he added:
“I support the idea of independence of the red underground people and I am not your enemy.”
“Well,” said Vitor Kors, realizing that the awkward silence is dragging on, and none of them, including Lis, were eager to speak, “in this case, I consider it expedient to organize a meeting of the commanders as soon as possible and discuss further actions.”
“Yes,” Lis agreed immediately.
“Shall I sketch out a plan of priorities?” suggested Kors.
“I will be very grateful to you,” said Lis, and now Kors was already surprised, but he quickly pulled himself together, returning business concentration to his face:
