The Road to Magic (Book 1 of the Way of the Demon Series) (25 page)

‘Ataletta, it’s not worth it. Let me give you a bit of good advice. First of all, never build all your plans around one single figure, especially if you aren’t in complete control of that figure. People really don’t like it when you try to use them. Secondly, if you’ve already made such a mistake, and the figure refuses to play by your rules, never let the person you wanted to use sense that. Your insistency clearly shows what an important place you had reserved for me in your plans. You must never show that! And thirdly, you made a big mistake when you started to use not rational but emotional arguments after my first refusal. When I wasn’t interested in your offers of power etc, you should have offered me something else, or at a pinch tried to threaten me with something, though that is pretty dangerous. But in any case you shouldn’t have started crying. Tears are no argument in these matters. In fact, it can really irritate a lot of people. A man will willingly help a girl in trouble but few things can more surely kill any desire to help than the
demand
to give assistance. Remember that. I’m giving you this advice from the heart, and this knowledge will really be useful to you. But it would be better to drop it all. Politics are a dirty game, not for pretty young girls. You may get so dirty there that even millennia will not make your name white again. I don’t want to get mixed up in that mess myself, and I would advise you not to, either.’

Ataletta listened attentively to Oleg’s monologue and then nodded. ‘Of course, you’re right. But I have no other choice. You’re the only one who can use magic immune to the amulets of Orchis. What should I do now? Live off my godfather until the well-respected Lord Chancellor decides to die of natural causes? What should I do? Tell me, since you are so wise!’ Her voice had burst into a shrill cry by the time she reached that last phrase.

The more excited Ataletta became, the calmer Oleg became, outwardly. He looked at the girl in amazement, perplexed by such behaviour. He thought he had studied her personality quite well but such insistence was not at all like the Ataletta which he had imagined her to be. The demon inside Oleg was rising up in rage. He really didn’t enjoy being coerced.

‘It’s like this,’ Oleg announced in a cold voice, with difficulty restraining an urge to transform himself. ‘I’ll answer in order. Calm down and stop making me angry. That is the main thing. Remember this: I don’t owe you anything! What should you do? Change your tactics. Think up another plan. Find a way around. Or, if you are really so fixed on me, try to wait until I’ve finished my studies and hire me, offering a worthy salary. But be aware that my tastes are unlikely to change much over the next five years so you should offer me something to really make it worth my while. And another thing. I said that I will release you from fulfilling my wish and that I won’t demand anything of you. Although my opinion about you has changed significantly, I won’t go back on my word. But know this: when you next hire me – if, of course, you can – I will demand a full payment, and in advance, too. As I see it, free help spoils people rotten, they start demanding more and more. I won’t make that mistake again. You should reckon with that, if you’re going to be making plans about me!’

With a curt nod he quickly strode out from behind the partition and, apologizing to the baron, headed for the bedroom he’d been allocated, pleading tiredness from the journey.

But sleep did not come. Oleg tossed and turned from side to side but couldn’t fall asleep. An attempt at counting sheep didn’t help. After ram number 68 gave him the famous American one-finger salute, and then wandered off in the direction of a blondish ewe with made-up eyes and carefully painted hooves, Oleg gave up.

The muffled sounds of the feast floated up from downstairs. It sounded as though the party had reached the singing phase.

‘Yelling their heads off, bloody “minstrels”. Stopping a man from sleeping,’ Oleg brooded. But he was lying to himself. It wasn’t the drunken songs of the vassals of Maidell which kept him from slumber, not at all. He couldn’t get that last conversation with Ataletta out of his head. He was oddly, irrationally, offended, as though he had somehow been tricked or betrayed.

‘Why have I let her get to me like this? Tomorrow I’ll do my shopping, the day after tomorrow I’ll say “So long” and – that’s it! We won’t see each other again. Just relax and stop messing around. So she turned out different from how you’d imagined her. You should keep your imagination in check.’ He even wagged his finger, mentally. It’s not the girl’s fault after all that she was born in the royal family and has been brought up thinking that her problems are the most important and that everyone is duty-bound to solve them and not their own. Maybe I should have been gentler somehow? But how? She wouldn’t have understood anything gentler…Enough, I need to sleep. Enough about that princess. Sleep. Sleep!’

The noise of the drunkards subsided. Evidently, alcohol had finally claimed victory over the mighty bodies of Maidell’s knights, sending them into a deep sleep.

But Oleg continued his battle with insomnia. The rams jumped over the gate…over and over…Just when he’d begun to doze off…

There was a knock at the door.

‘Come in.’ Oleg drew back the latch. Ataletta was standing in the doorway. She was dressed n the same white tunic-dress that she had been when they first met.

‘Can I come in?’

‘Please do, Your Highness,’ Oleg bowed with affected politeness. ‘To what do I owe this visit?’

‘Please, don’t be like that…’ The girl sighed sadly. ‘I came to apologize.’

‘Apologize?’

‘Yes. I was wrong. You’ve done so much for me. It’s just that I forgot for an instant that you’re not my vassal; I’d started taking your help for granted. I can imagine what you must think. Please, forgive me!’

‘Well, if you’re saying “please”,’ Oleg drawled as though thinking it over. ‘Then I forgive you!’ He went on quickly and cheerily. ‘It’s good that you stopped by. I really was very offended. I couldn’t even get to sleep. I think it’ll be easier now…’ But Oleg couldn’t finish what he was saying. Ataletta interrupted him.

‘You know… about falling asleep…’ she lowered her eyes, and to his amazement Oleg realized the princess was embarrassed. But then, as though having conquered something inside herself, she raised her head and met his gaze. ‘I was thinking, I wasn’t only wrong in demanding you help me. After all, I did give my word to satisfy any wish. So what if you haven’t demanded anything! Promises should be kept… So…’ Ataletta didn’t finish but, blushing even more, lightly brushed the silver clasp on her shoulder. The tunic slipped to her feet with a soft rustle. ‘Did I guess?’ asked the naked girl, red with embarrassment.

She was very beautiful. Her blonde locks which seemed to glow lent her face an unearthly touch. Her white skin and her perfectly proportioned body was illuminated by the light of the moon shining through the window. And only the dark maroon nipples smoothly rising in time to the girl’s jerky breath prevented him from imagining that she was a classic Greek statue.

For a few long seconds Oleg fought a pitiful battle with himself, relishing the splendid sight before him.

‘You guessed,’ he whispered finally, wrapping her in his blanket. ‘But I can’t accept such a payment. It would be mean and unfair to you. There’s no need to do anything like that, if you don’t want to do it yourself…’ He didn’t finish. With a ringing laugh Ataletta wriggled out from his arms.

‘You don’t mean you didn’t realize?’ she said, throwing off the blanket. ‘They told me men were sometimes a bit slow on the uptake, but I never thought it could be so bad!’ She ran her hand smoothly over Oleg’s body, pausing on his stomach for a moment, and then slipping lower.

‘I want you!’ the girl whispered, leading him to the bed. ‘Satisfied now?’

She really was a virgin, that young and passionate white princess. But Oleg’s skill was enough to take away her pain and here magic was almost irrelevant… Later, towards morning when their strength finally faded and they were lying quietly side by side, Oleg remembered something and laughed.

‘What’s up?’

‘Remember when we’d just made the agreement that I would help you and you put the condition that you would fulfil any wish of mine so long as it didn’t go against courtly honour or the interests of the country?’

‘Yes, something gleamed in your eyes for a second then. You know, something sly, just like now,’ she looked at Oleg’s hands, again sliding over her body, and then arched to meet his caresses.

‘A thought flashed into my mind then. I thought it was a good joke and was even about to tell you, but then I looked at you and changed my mind. You were really worried then. But it turns out it wasn’t a joke, but the genuine truth.’

‘And what was that joke-truth?’ Ataletta purred, pulling back a little to get her breath.

‘That I didn’t give a damn about your courtly honour, or your maidenly honour!’

‘But you kidnapped me! Disgraced the girl… Mmm that’s so nice. Do it again…’ Talk held very little interest for Ataletta after that.

In the morning, swaying, Oleg could barely dress. Ataletta stayed to sleep in his bed, announcing that she would be just fine without breakfast.

Having had a bite to eat, Oleg leapt on his horse and headed off to the fair held in a small town at the foot of the castle. The weaponry fashioned by the masters of the Free Baronies was praised throughout all the Oikumenas. And the mysterious gnomes living under the Iron Mountains occasionally brought their handiwork here to sell, too.

But Oleg wasn’t in luck that day. There hadn’t been a supply from the Iron Mountains for a long time and he had to content himself with human handiwork. A good strong chainmail to be worn under outer garments cost less than he’d thought. Having checked his finances, Oleg realized he could treat himself to expensive and good quality weaponry. The next item on his list was a sword. After a long search Oleg managed to hunt out something more or less suitable. It was another espadon which looked a bit similar to the one he already had only this one was forged from steel of a much higher quality. Moreover, the blade was silver-plated which gave it an advantage in a battle with the Unclean. Strolling among the stalls selling bows and counting the rest of his money, Oleg regretfully put off buying one till later. Instead, he purchased a few throwing knives and with that, considered his equipment complete.

Coming back to the castle in time for lunch, the first thing Oleg did was to take a look at Ataletta, sitting at the head of the table and tucking in to the main course with great gusto.

The girl, or to be more precise, the young woman now, had become indescribably more beautiful. The fine wrinkles which had begun to appear on her forehead had vanished without a trace, washed away by the recent intimacies. Her eyes were filled with a cheerful, healthy light. The middle-aged baron and his wife sitting next to her were feasting their eyes on their charge.

Laughing at something the baron said, Ataletta raised her eyes from her plate and noticed Oleg, standing stock-still in the doorway. Smiling, she indicated the seat next to her with a wave of her hand.

After lunch, having slept well and bursting with joy and energy, the princess dragged Oleg off to look at the park near the castle.

The park was lovely. Oleg particularly liked the winding shady avenues with little arbours hidden in their depths, just right for kisses. In the breaks between the latter they chatted about all kinds of nonsense, trying to steer clear of the most painful subject: everything was ready and Oleg would leave for Valensia the next morning. On the way he planned to earn some money in the incredibly profitable and extremely perilous profession of Hunter of the Unclean. Ahead of her, the princess had a complex web of cunning politics and a desperate battle for her throne. And it was impossible to say which of them was in more danger: the poisons and daggers of the Fenrian aristocracy were worthy competition for the fangs and claws of the imperial Unclean.

Both of them knew this full well, engrossed in kissing in the shady groves of the ancient park. Was that why those last kisses of a peaceful life were so sweet? Who knows?

Oleg was the first to broach the forbidden subject.

‘In six weeks, if everything goes well, I’ll be studying at the Valensian Academy. You could write and tell me how you’re getting on. I might be able to help.’

Ataletta looked at him with unexpected sobriety and, slipping off his knee, sat down next to him.

‘This needs to be discussed seriously, and sitting in that position would have been constantly distracted,’ she explained. ‘As for your wish; ok, I’ll write. But you must understand… If our correspondence falls into the wrong hands, it could cause a lot of harm, informing my enemies of our plans…. Though I suppose we could encode the letters.’

‘Deal. I hope you know a good code.’

‘Yes, I do. I’ll give you the key to it. Later.’ And she sat herself on his knee again…

On the morning of the next day Oleg didn’t want to leave the castle. He wanted to lie there some more, embracing the dear, warm girl pressing herself to him, and not go anywhere…he could help her regain her kingdom, get a cosy little place where they could “live happily ever after…”

In order to force himself to get up and out of bed, he had to remind himself that such a fairytale was, alas, not for him. If he delayed receiving a magician’s education, then being forced to constantly use his demonic strength instead of his magical powers, he would gradually turn into a demon. And it’s unlikely that it would have been so pleasant for Ataletta to share her bed with a scaly, clawed demon. Although, who knows… He remembered their first kiss in the watch tower of Kreghist castle. Then, as you may remember, he was in fact in his demon form.

And all these thoughts forced him to crawl out from under the blankets. The princess was still sleeping and Oleg decided not to wake her. He quickly had some breakfast, loaded his things onto his horse and was just about to set off when Ataletta appeared in the doorway. When she noticed him, she cried out joyfully: ‘I made it!’ and flung herself around his neck, unabashed by the presence of many servants. For some time she just cried, showering him with admonishments for not waking her. ‘Farewell, farewell, my demon.’