Read the book “The Prince of Charodol” online in full - Natalya Shcherba - MyBook. Charodol bracelet (Be a witch) Shcherba Natalya Charodol read in full

Natalya Shcherba was born in the city of Molodechno (Belarus), lived for a long time in Russia, and now lives in Ivano-Frankivsk - in the very heart of the Carpathians.

WITH early childhood reading was in first place (sports came in second, and drawing came in third). At school, books by Dumas, Cooper, Reed, Shklyarsky, Nosov, Bulychev, Kostetsky, Veltistov, Gaidar and other children's literature that the little hands of the future writer could only reach were read and approved.

At school, Russian literature was considered by the author to be the best subject, and “reading under the desk” was considered his favorite pastime. She doesn’t remember the school itself well, because she was involved in sports for a long time and persistently - the martial arts of wushu (taolu), and she still goes to classes in this section to this day. Favorite weapons include the Tao sword, pole and battle fan. She is partial to extreme sports and competitive games (see the author’s novel “The Two-Faced World”).

Somehow I managed to enter and then drop out of the Kyiv Academy of Light Industry in my fifth year. Why it took more than four years to study strength materials, machine parts and engineering design - he still doesn’t know.

First experience of writing: a short novel about an alien geography girl and classmates. The latter enjoyed wild success. During the school sports period, a bloody story about ninja warriors was written. Fortunately, it was lost forever.

The first royalty publication took place in 2005. The author wrote a frivolous story for a serious competition in order to laugh at the given topic. And she won!

This was followed by several victories in literary competitions(eight), as a result - many publications in different interesting magazines. At the same time, a novel was being written about the watchmaker Vasilisa (genre: teenage fiction), which subsequently won the Euroscon master class of novels (2008).

The first novel, Being a Witch, was published in 2008. This work - fairy tale about the adventures of the Carpathian witch. The novel received the Silver Caduceus in the debut book category at the Star Bridge in 2009. In 2010, its sequel entitled “The Witch’s Cross” was released.

In 2010, the writer’s novel “The Two-Faced World” was published - a mysterious urban fantasy about the confrontation between two magical peoples - asters and lunatics.

Currently, Natalya Shcherba is actively engaged in writing, goes to training, often climbs mountains, sometimes travels, and plows a lot. Loves to communicate with readers, joke with critics, and be surprised by those who don't like Harry Potter. In addition to the above, he collects a collection of owls, and with great pleasure.

- “Inspector” in the category “Buyer’s Choice 2012-2013.” Publisher in traditional paper version",

Runet Book Award 2012, nomination “Bestseller” - For the book “Chasodei. Clock Heart" (Moscow, 2012)

Natalia Shcherba

Charm Bracelet

The fire was burning.

Flames danced on the spruce branches, thick and acrid smoke poured out. Its gray-black snakes curled towards the sky, scarlet streaks of sparks flashed.

The woman took off her dress. She shrugged her shoulders chillily. Raising her head proudly, she fearlessly stepped into the very heart of the fire - it seemed like a familiar thing for her, an ordinary ritual.

At the same moment, she sharply leaned back, arching her bow in pain; Her eyes turned to the sky froze, turning into two lunar reflections. A wild, moaning cry echoed across the forest and echoed across the ground. And, echoing him, the trees rustled, as if they wanted to forever hide between the branches the eerie echo of human despair.

The woman's body continued to bend until her face buried in her heels, creating an unnatural circle. And so it rolled out of the fire, capturing petals of flame on its rim, and spun like a bright hoop across the clearing.

It seemed that the wild dance of the living ring would continue forever, but it suddenly slowed down its terrible run, stopped and fell on its side. The charcoal spots on human skin suddenly turned silver, snaked across the body in thin shimmering rivulets, ran in a circle, creating a perfect interweaving... And the emerald crystals of petrified eyes looked into the darkness.

Part one

For some time now, Tatyana led a free life.

Three years ago, her parents succumbed to the persuasion of friends and moved abroad - to Australia. They fulfilled the cherished dream of their youth - to live on the ocean shore, and were not going to return in the near future.

At first, Tanya was looked after by her mother’s older sister, Aunt Angela: she came in almost every day, brought pies good only for hammering nails, and a bottle of cheap wine, which she drank herself. Smoking the obligatory pack of stinking cigarettes, the aunt complained about life - her husband, three daughters, neighbors and the evil bulldog Adolf, who had bitten a good hundred people in his lifetime. She blew her nose into a large handkerchief, aloud envied the life abroad of Tanya's parents, loudly moaned about her aimless youth and her rapidly approaching lonely old age. Tatyana had no doubts about the latter. She herself was thinking of running away to her parents in Australia, just to never see her obnoxious relative again.

But is it possible to leave your favorite mountains, familiar from childhood? Trade the beauty of Carpathian forests, rivers and waterfalls, steep rock slopes, paths winding up and down, the sharp freshness of clean mountain air for distant foreign lands? No, It is Immpossible; and Tatyana had to endure Auntie’s frequent visits.

And suddenly the unexpected happened: the thunderstorm of the entire block, the bulldog Adolf completed his earthly journey - in pursuit of his next victim, he miscalculated the turn and flew out of the entrance window. And Tanya’s parents took the inconsolable aunt and her entire family to live in Australia.

The call came early in the morning. The telephone set rattled dryly, trying to fall apart. I must say, it was antique, in a black and gold case, with a copper digital disk and a funny oblong tube.

Mom always called the home phone, probably to check how long this old device would last.

Tatyana had a birthday yesterday. To be honest, she noted it so-so: the people who came were not the ones she wanted to see. Firstly, Ruslana’s best friend - the director of a modeling agency, businesslike, energetic and overly talkative - drove off with her models to Kyiv for an important show. Secondly, just before the celebration, Tatyana broke off relations with Tolik. The guy was considered her fiancé and openly declared this to everyone he met, although the girl said more than once that she was not going to get married. And in general, I would like to go to college this year to study tourism business. And then the day before yesterday the inevitable happened: having guessed the moment, Tolik deftly put a gold ring on her finger and immediately solemnly announced that now she would start new life- in the warmth and comfort of his parental home, without institutions and other unnecessary nonsense. Hearing such a statement, the “bride” threw off the gift with one energetic wave and declared that she had never loved all these ring bracelets and was not going to wear them all the time. Unfortunately, I immediately had to say goodbye to several mutual friends, from which Tanya concluded that it was still better to break off hateful relationships after the birthday - after all, ex-love a part of your life, a part of people, even a part of your habits and activities, goes away forever.

That’s why now Tatyana’s soul was scratching; and she wanted to sleep more than talk, so the meaning of what her mother said did not immediately reach her consciousness.

It turns out that while she was drinking champagne yesterday, in a certain Tsyambron, in the Carpathians, her great-grandmother died, exactly at one hundred and one years old, and left her, an unknown great-granddaughter, a mysterious “something” as an inheritance. Mom said just that: something. Tanya could bet that these were some old rags, moth-eaten, moldy and cobwebs. Or maybe books or papers? An antique Bible, an album with photographs, a set of earthenware... or a girl's diary?

Tatyana smiled at this thought: reading about the young passions of a hundred-year-old grandmother? Well, interesting... Who knows how young girls frolicked at the beginning of the twentieth century? And yet I didn’t want to go to some unknown village. She’s never even seen her distant relative... So she doesn’t need someone else’s inheritance. But the mother, who called once every six months, and then suddenly for the second time in a day, was more persistent than ever - she didn’t even tell anything about herself. She kept going on and on about going to the mountains. Deciding that it was better to give up than to suffer so much, my daughter quickly said that she would think about it, and after a quick goodbye, she threw the pipe, still warm from her breath, onto the metal lever.

But the most unpleasant thing is that this call served as the finale to a terrible dream; True, Tatyana remembered the morning vision in fragments - like a fire in the middle of the forest, bright orange flashes in the night sky... or scarlet? The vision was annoying, but no more than the conversation with my mother.

The doorbell began to ring like a nightingale.

Tatyana irritably pushed away the cup of freshly brewed coffee and slammed it open - and who is it this early?

Ruslana stood on the threshold, cheerful and flushed. Did she run from the station itself, or what?

– Happy twentieth anniversary and liberation! “The friend pulled out from behind the door a box decorated with a scarlet bow and a large yellow envelope.

– Already know? – Tatyana perked up, took the gifts and for some reason became completely upset.

“I’ve been friends with you since childhood,” Ruslana laughed, clearly ignoring the direct hint.

-Have you decided to give me money? – Tanya turned the envelope over in her hands and even looked at its contents in the light. – I hope this will be enough for the first year of study at a prestigious university?

- I was daydreaming! – Ruslana chuckled. – This was lying under your door... Apparently.

– Was it like that or so?

The friend looked at her strangely and suddenly broke off the thing: her eyes moved to the sides, and then sharply converged to the bridge of her nose, as if Ruslana suffered from strabismus.

“No,” Tatyana answered absentmindedly, a little puzzled by her friend’s facial expressions. – The lock on our mailbox is broken. Most likely, Mikhalych brought it from the first. He was probably embarrassed to call.

Clutching the envelope under her arm, she patiently brewed another batch of coffee for herself and her friend. The unusually silent Ruslana watched her actions. Finally, when they were both seated in the living room on the sofa, Tanya allowed herself to take a closer look at the letter.

The paper was thick and did not show through. There were ten hefty stamps on it with images of scary gothic dolls and the seal of the local post office, and Tanya’s address was listed in the left corner. The sender was not specified.

- Will you finally open it?! – Ruslana couldn’t stand it. The friend’s eyes were no longer squinting, but they sparkled dangerously. “I haven’t received letters for a hundred years.” Electronic ones don’t count, it’s unromantic. By the way, there is a radiotelephone in the box. You'll get a normal one and throw away your old one.

“I was daydreaming,” Tatyana responded absentmindedly and took a sip of coffee from her cup.

- Open it up!

Tanya arched her eyebrow in amazement. For a moment it even seemed to her that this was not her childhood friend, not Ruslana. Of course, she could be assertive, but usually she behaved much more restrained. But no - the same Blue eyes, short dark brown haircut, straight posture and favorite pose - hands folded on knees. But still... Tanya even thought that her friend’s silhouette seemed to be blurring, blurred by rainbow spots...

She shook her head.

Natalia Shcherba

Prince of Charodol

How quiet it is.

It was as if the sound had been turned off.

Because of the tense, ringing silence, the sky seemed bright and distinct. Not a cloud, not a gust of wind, not a single sound. The world froze, became unreal.

Kaveh shifted from foot to foot.

The serenity of the sky was killing. The silence of the people gathered at the ancient hill on the stone mountain. And also my own fear. It has never been so scary. Or was it? A barely perceptible splash of an old, half-forgotten memory flashed through my thoughts, but then disappeared.

And suddenly, it was as if a spasm ran across the hill. The earth swelled up in clods, cracks crawled along the rocky islands, stone fragments fell down - centuries-old shale was exposed. An angry roar shook the mountain depths; along with it, the trunks of the trees at the foot cracked - some groaned and fell on their sides, throwing up leaves and raising thick, gnarled roots to the sky.

Long seconds passed. It seemed that everything was over and the cataclysm would not happen again. The people who had frozen on the approaches to the hill began to move little by little; the bravest ones carefully crawled up to the place of destruction.

And then the mountain came to life again. Boulders flew down, showered with stone chips, the disturbed earth trembled, and the trees groaned again. The birds, raised from their nests, fearfully drew random trajectories in the air, their cries merged into one alarming roar.

The first sharp thorn appeared. Behind him was another, a third - it seemed that the mountain range had decided to bristle with a palisade of spears against the uninvited guests.

- Monster!!! - someone shouted. - This is a monster!

The earth continued to crumble, scattering in huge layers, mixed with torn up blocks of shale and sandstone. The skeleton of the hill became increasingly exposed. The sun's rays were the first to break through to the secret of the disturbed mountain: shimmering like rainbow rivulets, gold, black and bright emerald scales sparkled mixed together before the eyes of the spectators of the unprecedented action.

Once! Like a whirlwind, a dark, brownish-green spotted wing, the size of a small football field, burst out. Two! The earth fell down and a pair of huge wings appeared. A wave, another, and another - a hurricane hit the people. The smartest ones managed to tightly grasp the surviving tree trunks, while the rest were carried head over heels across the meadow grass.

But then the wings froze and smoothly lay down on the sides of the monster, forming the largest camping tent in the world. From behind a pile of stone fragments a gigantic creature emerged, looking like a huge balloon head: two bright red eyes stared at the people, as if a fire was burning in each of them. The muzzle was crowned with two long mustaches under the well-shaped nostrils. Oddly enough, the image’s gaze seemed meaningful. In any case, the monster looked around with displeasure, but not without interest.

Shouts of astonishment were heard, a single flash flashed: someone remembered that he could cast magic. The monster let out an angry roar and turned a huge firebrand in that direction. And again a short roar, but for a different reason: a small girlish figure was running towards the monster. Only about ten meters from the disgruntled mustachioed muzzle the girl stopped.

The roar shook the surroundings, and the unfortunate witch, who had probably lost her mind, leaned back and, tripping over a long piece of stone slab, fell.

- Lu-u-udi!!! These people again! – the monster suddenly moaned. – I’m so tired of you, people!

The girl screamed, but she was not allowed to be truly frightened: the monster grabbed her by the waist and gently but firmly held her between her sharp, saber-like claws, and in the blink of an eye threw her over her back.

The witch, having coped with the first shock, looked at the monster with curiosity, so to speak, from above, taking advantage of an advantage inaccessible to others. Just in case, she wrapped her legs around one of the spikes, rightly believing that it would be safer to negotiate with a very disgruntled dragon. And indeed, the head rose towards her - the monster’s eyes were closed.

“When three symbols come together in the Circle of Power,” the dragon hissed quietly, “spit over your left shoulder three times.” And be careful, don’t hit anyone - you’ll curse in vain. Understood? That's it, we talked.

The witch nodded and barely opened her mouth to say anything before she was thrown to the ground in the most unceremonious manner. Without thinking twice, she jumped up and ran back.

And on time! The monster roared protractedly, sweeping away the last remnants of the centuries-old earthen shelter, and, having made several new hurricane swings, slowly rose above the ground.

Below they screamed, random flashes and explosions flashed - the assembled society, watching the retreating hulk, noticeably grew bolder: the sorcerers used their entire magical arsenal. But it was too late: the monster roared goodbye again, not without hidden malice, made another furious flap of its giant wings and disappeared between the white cloudy feather beds.

The library room was in sleepy twilight.

From the low vaulted ceiling hung electric lamps in the shape of wrought iron bats, chasing away the darkness in the aisles between the bookshelves. On the rectangular wooden tables, the monitors of idle computers flickered dimly and the stubs of candles in tall candlesticks smoked, burning out after evening classes. A dark figure perched at the end table - the slight rustle of pages being occasionally turned was heard - some late visitor was reading alone.

A light shadow slid between the bookshelves: the stone mosaic of the floor concealed the careful steps of the witch. This visitor clearly did not want to be noticed: from time to time she stopped, listening warily.

The bolts creaked - somewhere a door opened and then slammed shut. A lost eagle owl hooted outside the window, its shadow momentarily covering the yellow disk of the moon. And then, as if in pursuit, a flock of bats flew by. The clock hanging above the front door in the form of a castle with tridental towers on each side suddenly trembled and busily struck midnight.

Finally, the witch reached the goal of her little secret journey. Stopping under a bright copper sconce in the shape of a bird hugging a ball with its wings, she took off her hood, revealing her young, pretty face.

The girl craned her neck, looking closely at the very man who decided to read before bed. His crooked figure was almost hidden behind a huge pile of tomes, but he himself was keen on reading an old, very battered book.

“So this is where this bastard is hiding,” the witch said quietly.

How quiet it is.

It was as if the sound had been turned off.

Because of the tense, ringing silence, the sky seemed bright and distinct. Not a cloud, not a gust of wind, not a single sound. The world froze, became unreal.

Kaveh shifted from foot to foot.

The serenity of the sky was killing. The silence of the people gathered at the ancient hill on the stone mountain. And also my own fear. It has never been so scary. Or was it? A barely perceptible splash of an old, half-forgotten memory flashed through my thoughts, but then disappeared.

And suddenly, it was as if a spasm ran across the hill. The earth swelled up in clods, cracks crawled along the rocky islands, stone fragments fell down - centuries-old shale was exposed. An angry roar shook the mountain depths; along with it, the trunks of the trees at the foot cracked - some groaned and fell on their sides, throwing up leaves and raising thick, gnarled roots to the sky.

Long seconds passed. It seemed that everything was over and the cataclysm would not happen again. The people who had frozen on the approaches to the hill began to move little by little; the bravest ones carefully crawled up to the place of destruction.

And then the mountain came to life again. Boulders flew down, showered with stone chips, the disturbed earth trembled, and the trees groaned again. The birds, raised from their nests, fearfully drew random trajectories in the air, their cries merged into one alarming roar.

The first sharp thorn appeared. Behind him was another, a third - it seemed that the mountain range had decided to bristle with a palisade of spears against the uninvited guests.

- Monster!!! - someone shouted. - This is a monster!

The earth continued to crumble, scattering in huge layers, mixed with torn up blocks of shale and sandstone. The skeleton of the hill became increasingly exposed. The sun's rays were the first to break through to the secret of the disturbed mountain: shimmering like rainbow rivulets, gold, black and bright emerald scales sparkled mixed together before the eyes of the spectators of the unprecedented action.

Once! Like a whirlwind, a dark, brownish-green spotted wing, the size of a small football field, burst out. Two! The earth fell down and a pair of huge wings appeared. A wave, another, and another - a hurricane hit the people. The smartest ones managed to tightly grasp the surviving tree trunks, while the rest were carried head over heels across the meadow grass.

But then the wings froze and smoothly lay down on the sides of the monster, forming the largest camping tent in the world. From behind a pile of stone debris, a gigantic head emerged, resembling a huge balloon: two bright red eyes stared at the people, as if a fire was burning in each of them. The muzzle was crowned with two long mustaches under the well-shaped nostrils. Oddly enough, the image’s gaze seemed meaningful. In any case, the monster looked around with displeasure, but not without interest.

Shouts of astonishment were heard, a single flash flashed: someone remembered that he could cast magic. The monster let out an angry roar and turned a huge firebrand in that direction. And again a short roar, but for a different reason: a small girlish figure was running towards the monster. Only about ten meters from the disgruntled mustachioed muzzle the girl stopped.

The roar shook the surroundings, and the unfortunate witch, who had probably lost her mind, leaned back and, tripping over a long piece of stone slab, fell.

- Lu-u-udi!!! These people again! – the monster suddenly moaned. – I’m so tired of you, people!

The girl screamed, but she was not allowed to be truly frightened: the monster grabbed her by the waist and gently but firmly held her between her sharp, saber-like claws, and in the blink of an eye threw her over her back.

The witch, having coped with the first shock, looked at the monster with curiosity, so to speak, from above, taking advantage of an advantage inaccessible to others. Just in case, she wrapped her legs around one of the spikes, rightly believing that it would be safer to negotiate with a very disgruntled dragon. And indeed, the head rose towards her - the monster’s eyes were closed.

“When three symbols come together in the Circle of Power,” the dragon hissed quietly, “spit over your left shoulder three times.” And be careful, don’t hit anyone - you’ll curse in vain. Understood? That's it, we talked.

The witch nodded and barely opened her mouth to say anything before she was thrown to the ground in the most unceremonious manner. Without thinking twice, she jumped up and ran back.

And on time! The monster roared protractedly, sweeping away the last remnants of the centuries-old earthen shelter, and, having made several new hurricane swings, slowly rose above the ground.

Below they screamed, random flashes and explosions flashed - the assembled society, watching the retreating hulk, noticeably grew bolder: the sorcerers used their entire magical arsenal. But it was too late: the monster roared goodbye again, not without hidden malice, made another furious flap of its giant wings and disappeared between the white cloudy feather beds.

Chapter 1
Kave

The library room was in sleepy twilight.

Electric lights shaped like wrought-iron bats hung from the low vaulted ceiling, driving away the darkness in the aisles between the bookshelves. On the rectangular wooden tables, the monitors of idle computers flickered dimly and the stubs of candles in tall candlesticks smoked, burning out after evening classes. A dark figure perched at the end table - the slight rustle of pages being occasionally turned was heard - some late visitor was reading alone.

A light shadow slid between the bookshelves: the stone mosaic of the floor concealed the careful steps of the witch. This visitor clearly did not want to be noticed: from time to time she stopped, listening warily.

The bolts creaked - somewhere a door opened and then slammed shut. A lost eagle owl hooted outside the window, its shadow momentarily covering the yellow disk of the moon. And then, as if in pursuit, a flock of bats flew by. The clock hanging above the front door in the form of a castle with tridental towers on each side suddenly trembled and busily struck midnight.

Finally, the witch reached the goal of her little secret journey. Stopping under a bright copper sconce in the shape of a bird hugging a ball with its wings, she took off her hood, revealing her young, pretty face.

The girl craned her neck, looking closely at the very man who decided to read before bed. His crooked figure was almost hidden behind a huge pile of tomes, but he himself was keen on reading an old, very battered book.

“So this is where this bastard is hiding,” the witch said quietly.

– Why are you following Patrick, Kaveh?

Startled in surprise, the “spy” jumped on the spot and turned around sharply.

Eris! What is she doing here? How did you know?! After all, Kaveh tried so hard to sneak out of her room unnoticed - and here you go... Of course, only this cunning woman with her incredible insight could track her down... But what a shame!

It was indeed Eris: a black-haired, short-haired witch with a narrow, heart-shaped face and long brown eyes. She had recently turned twenty-two, but because of her thinness and short stature, she was often mistaken for a teenager. However, the false impression dissipated as soon as Eris spoke in her dry, authoritative voice.

“And yet, why are you following this sorcerer, Kave?” – she repeated sternly, although not without curiosity.

“I have a conversation with him, without witnesses,” Kaveh answered displeasedly. She was taller and in general was the complete opposite of Eris: pale skin, golden hair gathered in a ponytail at the back of her head and wary light green eyes with some hidden sadness.

Kaveh took a deep breath, as if preparing to jump, and her face acquired a strange determination.

“I need to talk to this... sorcerer.”

“I know Patrick can be careless in his statements,” Eris said quietly, “but I don’t advise getting involved.” Why do you need such an ill-wisher? Are you planning to fight him?

Kave narrowed her eyes in displeasure.

- What?! – she hissed indignantly. “I’m not going to attack him, especially from around the corner.” “I just need to talk to this sorcerer... this careless sorcerer,” she added gloomily.

“In that case, I’ll watch, if you don’t mind.” What if you need help? – Eris looked at her appraisingly, not without hidden slyness.

For some time, Kaveh peered inquisitively into the face of the older witch.

“As you wish,” she finally gave in. “But I ask you not to tell anyone about this.”

- Will try. – Eris shrugged her shoulders carefree. - Well, what if he gets angry? What will you do? He complains to Mrs. Kara, he’s her favorite! And they will punish you.

“Yes, even to the Pope,” Kave muttered. – His teachings and moral teachings are already there for me. “She ran the edge of her hand across her throat. “If this is not stopped, he will continue to mock me.” Trust my experience in the very recent past.

“Okay,” Eris gave in. - Just don't overdo it. If he suddenly gets angry, run away. And, I beg you, don’t say a word to him about me either.

Kave nodded, finally giving the elder an appraising look, and resolutely walked towards the guy, at the same time taking off the hood of his long white dress. In the dark, such a robe could easily be mistaken for the silhouette of a ghost, but our hero would hardly be afraid of a simple witch outfit. Hearing footsteps, the guy immediately turned around, creaking his chair as if he was waiting. Seeing the guest, he grinned: obviously, the menacing expression on the girl’s face amused him.

– What do you owe me, Kave? Did you come to tell me that you're finally leaving?

– You climbed in my room, rummaged through my things! – the girl hissed without hiding her indignation. – Don’t even dare evade! I'm sure it was you!

Kaveh pursed her lips angrily, expressing contempt for her interlocutor with all her appearance.

Patrick straightened up in his chair, looking at the girl with an arrogant look. If he had risen to his feet, he would have been slightly shorter than her, so he preferred to continue sitting. His eyes, blue and always squinted, darkened and began to look like small angry gimlets.

-Were you in my room? – the girl repeated with emphasis. – Or is it scary to even admit it, huh?

The guy grimaced.

- Well, it was, so what? - Short laugh. – Will you complain to Kara, witch? You understand, I will be able to justify myself.

The girl exhaled angrily, calming her pounding heart, but her hostility towards Patrick won out. Her gaze became prickly and distant, the cheekbones on her slightly pale face tensed.

- Yes, I was in your closet. I checked to see if you stole anything from our house. And,” he grinned triumphantly, “he found something!”

Without hiding his triumph, he pulled out a small palm-sized dagger in a sheath from behind a stack of books and slowly pulled it out. A narrow blade with fine gold engraving on the bone handle flashed. It appeared to be an intricate work: the scabbard, like the blade, was decorated with gold engraving on a silver background: the writhing body of a lizard with emerald eyes.

The girl's eyes widened in amazement.

- Thief! – she exhaled.

Patrick narrowed his eyes angrily.

- Am I the thief?! – he hissed with a whistle. “You’re the one who stole our heirloom!” From the family stash! Kara, when she finds out, will kick you out in three necks! I swear, tomorrow will be the happiest and sunniest day. I'm sure you will be punished. – The sorcerer almost howled with delight. - She will never forgive theft!

- Fool. – The girl did not hide her disdain. - What a fool you are, Patrick.

The guy paused. He raised his head arrogantly and squinted.

- I know that you are planning to run away. And Mrs. Kara will know about it. You've packed your trunk for the road!

“On the road,” the girl repeated mechanically. - That's it. – Angry sparks danced in her eyes. - This is my dagger. Mistress Kara gave it to me. For successful studies. And she ordered to pack the chest.

A muffled snort was heard from behind the bookcase.

The guy cast a sidelong glance in that direction and suddenly stepped towards Kava.

- You're lying, thief...

He didn’t have time to finish: a sharp blow with a knee to the stomach made him double over.

However, Patrick immediately straightened up and said in a dull, changed voice:

“Ka-a-ve Liz-zard...” A booming echo rolled through the hall.

Wow, Patrick was seriously offended - he decided to cast a spell on her.

Without wasting a second, the girl suddenly waved her hands and spun around, instantly disappearing from sight.

Shih-shih-shih! – the lizard quickly slid along the stone mosaic tiles. But a malicious cawing was heard from above: a black raven circled above the fugitive, trying to grab onto the small brown-green body. But he was unlucky: the lizard disappeared under one of the shelves. The raven sank down next to him and bent his neck, squinting with a yellowish eye, but immediately jumped back: a green stream of fire blazed at him. There was a joyful squeak under the rack. A faint rustling sound was heard and soon died away in the distance.

Having returned to his former appearance, Patrick did not pursue the fugitive. He grimaced vengefully, muttering not very decent curses about the girl and her entire family down to the seventh generation, even shook his fist at the bookcase. And then, as if ashamed, he sat down at the table again and irritably pushed the book towards him.

But this time he was interrupted: another man emerged from the aisle between the shelves and headed towards him. The visitor was dressed in simple wizard clothes - a dark robe with wide sleeves and a hood pulled low over his face. However, ordinary blue jeans and the socks of branded sneakers peeked out from under the hem of the robe.

Patrick jumped again.

-What are you doing here, Rick Strigoi? – he asked hostilely, instantly recognizing the newcomer. - What do you owe?

The man didn't answer. He slowly took off his hood, revealing a pale face with a sharp chin and sharp cheekbones. He looked around boredly and fixed the expressionless gaze of his gray eyes on the books laid out on the table.

– Are you still looking for secret knowledge, dear Pat? Be careful not to overwork your head...

– What do you want, Strigoi? – he immediately bristled. Judging by the expression on his face, he was afraid of his interlocutor.

- I want to help with advice. – The black pupils of Strigoi’s eyes suddenly widened and flashed silver. “It’s good that you crave knowledge, dear Patrick, but without practice, all these volumes of great spells of the past, present and future are nothing... It’s unlikely that you will comprehend the intricacies of magical science by just burying your long, curious nose in books.” It would be better if you warmed up in nature, even if you went outside the gates of your house. Or does the aunt not let the boy in alone?

Patrick's gaze darkened.

Patrick was completely transformed: his eyes widened with rage, his cheekbones twitched, his chin noticeably trembled. He spat out every word with an incomprehensible pleasure, as if he had been saving these phrases for a long time and finally they burst through like a furious avalanche from the very bottom of his soul.

Despite the insults, Rick Strigoi was not angry at all. On the contrary, a mocking smile played on his thin lips, pale in the semi-darkness.

“My family has been hearing things like this from idiots like you for years.” Did you really think of hurting me with such banality, dear Pat? Stretch your brain, come up with something more sophisticated, more intricate. Well, come on, what are you doing? Just don’t make me too angry... I’m not a person, but a half-spirit, a creature without moral principles. I can attack and tear off your empty head along with all its magic. But how much magical power will one get from such an acquisition?

Patrick instantly wilted. But his gaze restlessly roamed over the figure of his interlocutor.

“Remember, friend,” Rick Strigoi continued coldly, “I don’t like you pestering this girl, Kava.” Stop acting like an idiot or you'll regret it.

-Are you really going to attack me? Or are you just looking for an excuse to get back to old business? – Despite the bravura tone, Patrick almost shook.

Rick Strigoi smiled predatorily.

- Are you teasing, sorcerer? – he said quietly. – I haven’t tasted someone else’s magical power for a long time, but I can remember the past... Such a soft, intoxicating feeling. Just a small cut, a small wound. – Rick made a movement with his fingers, as if cutting the air. – And someone else’s magic obediently passes into my energy field... An intoxicating, incredible feeling... giving amazing joy. You feel endowed with power, authority... When you take all the power without a trace, it seems as if you are able to conquer the whole world. You are so filled with power.

Patrick raised his head arrogantly and grinned. But his hands began to tremble even more.

“You don’t dare attack me in Mistress Kara’s house!” If it weren’t for her protection, you would have been burned long ago... Like all half-spirits pretending to be people. Pretending to be magicians! Living at someone else's expense!

He grinned. Slowly he walked towards the table. Patrick couldn't resist and moved away along with his chair. Unexpectedly, Rick Strigoi is accurate and sudden movement picked up a dagger in a silver and gold sheath, covered with a book.

Patrick's jaw dropped (Patrick's jaw dropped?) - the poor guy was momentarily speechless.

He leaned forward a little:

“It’s not yours,” the nimble half-spirit objected. “I’d rather give it to its rightful owner myself.”

– Don’t interfere in something that’s not your own business! – Patrick hissed. “I must return the dagger to Mrs. Kara.” The girl stole it!

These words did not make the slightest impression on Rick.

-Are you finished? – he asked coldly. “And now I will teach you some useful lessons.” So, first thing: don't pester the charming Miss Kava anymore. Consider her under my protection. “A grin appeared on his face, more like a predatory grin, and then disappeared. - Now about the disrespect. Remember, dear Pat: if you allow yourself to insult me ​​or another half-spirit in my presence one more time, you are dead. Until this moment, what saved you was that I didn’t warn you. But now you know.

Patrick sighed noisily, as if he was short of air, but remained silent.