While they were climbing up the slope, Bery quietly told his wife about the city. He was very ancient. It grew from a small village, in which the Markats once hid from hostile clans, captured the entire slope of the mountain, deeply bit into its stone flesh. The mountain protected from enemies and from harsh winter winds, nourished with underground rivers and springs, warmed the earth with its eternal internal heat. Day was afraid of this rock. It seemed to her that she, too, was dozing, like those hills - giants, in order to wake up one day.The city was large and rich, stone barns, warehouses, inns and taverns everywhere. The houses are two-story and three-story made of white stone and massive logs covered with some kind of light lime. The central streets were wide, numerous galleries hung above them, and the alleys wound like ribbons between the houses, narrow, barely enough for one person to pass. But even here, in the city, right next to the houses, luxurious sprawling pines grew

They wandered around the market for several hours. Buy something, try something. Often merchants offered gifts, recognizing Beria, and Deya accepted them, but paid for each. The man didn't mind. When the girl got hungry, Markat offered to go to one of the taverns.“The food there is wonderful, you should try it,” he said and pulled his nose, slightly closing his eyes. I can already feel it from here.“Let’s go,” the princess laughed, clinging to him and letting people pass.Already at the exit from the market square, they ran into a girl. Deja recognized her instantly: Laran, the councilor's daughter. Today she seemed to be even more beautiful than the first time. Her hair is gathered up, her eyes shine, and the emerald dress under the fox furs shimmers in the sun with golden threads. - Oh, Bery, - Larana, seeing the man, extended her hand, not waiting for a return greeting. Markat reluctantly kissed her. Larana looked at Deya, as if appreciating, - My mistress. The princess nodded br

The doctor was an elderly woman. At first, Deya decided that she was about a hundred years old: the old woman was hunched and moved slowly, leaning on a massive stick made of light, smooth wood. The woman’s gray transparent hair curled in thin braids almost to her knees, a silver fur cape rested on her shoulders, a bleached linen dress was hidden under it, the sleeves of which held silver bracelets on her wrists, on her legs were comfortable and soft fur boots, in which she stepped inaudibly, like a cat . The medicine man smelled of herbs and honey, and her knobby, rough fingers were soaked with decoctions. But when she came closer, the attentive eyes of a woman who was not at all old, but wise, looked inquisitively at the girl. The eyes were green, like those of many Markats, but very light, with a noticeable dark gray rim.And the first thing she did was wave her hand to the bored Beria. And surprisingly, the man immediately understood what they wanted from him. He rolled his eyes a

From a low table on small thick legs, a bluish tart smoke spread around the room. There was a smell of dry wormwood, mint, honey and medicine. The doctor skillfully mixed the ingredients in white clay bowls, and Deya tried to remember in what proportions and what to mix, what to pour and how much to infuse. Atara seemed to be deliberately trying to confuse the princess, either out of harm, or for some other reason. But, fortunately, Deamara never complained about her memory and grasped everything on the fly.-Two spoons of mustard, four spoons of avran, half a cup of honey and this ... - Deja pointed to a bowl of powder that looked like blue salt. - Correctly?- That's right, - Atara involuntarily smiled and looked at the princess with respect. Throughout her life, she had many students, and they all came out well, but no one had ever listened to her with such zeal and stubbornness. - You insist for a day, put it on bruises, and the pain takes off like a hand.Deja wiped her forehead

Only late in the evening Deya left a strange indifference, and was replaced by a sickening fear of realizing that the misfortune had not happened. She and her husbands were in the bedroom, Bery did not let go of his Lanaren from his embrace, sorted through her blond soft hair, endlessly straightened the fur blanket on her shoulders and cursed softly under his breath. Deja sat on his lap, resting her head on the man's shoulder and listening to the rapid beating of his heart. The sound calmed her down. Aznar walked around the room with his arms crossed, and the features of his handsome face were constantly changing: either sharpening, becoming predatory, or returning to their original state. Noticing the look of his wife, Aznar turned away sharply, afraid to frighten her, and went to the window, frowning at the dark night that covered the city.-Aznar, - growling notes cut through Beria's voice. “You see, we can’t even trust our own people!"Next week," his brother replied flatly.-What