“I’ll show you,” the mentor sighed heavily. – How to check that this is still a living and intelligent girl, and not a creature from the abyss that has moved into her.

And he showed it. Four times until Marius understood and managed to repeat it. And the horse, Ancient or not, neighed, snorted and generally showed its contempt in every possible way.

On the fourth test, the girl opened her eyes, and it immediately became clear that she was no creature and was generally no more dangerous than a lamb. True, the mentor was not touched by the innocent girl’s gaze.

– Look and remember, student, this is exactly how they will look at you before devouring your soul. The truly dangerous will never seem frightening. Those who are afraid of being devoured themselves are frightened.

“But that was offensive,” the girl suddenly spoke. – Eating souls is not my thing. Better treat him with a sandwich.

The voice seemed familiar to Marius, but the intonation… When he heard this wonderful, ringing-tender voice last time… when was that? Visiting someone, but who? So, then this voice was not at all so confident, cheerful and even, perhaps, aggressive, but on the contrary, it evoked yawning and despondency. Exactly! Dejection! Same…

– Virita degli Bornio! – Marius blurted out. And what kind of demons, one wonders, brought this timid doll here?!

Virita froze, bowing her head as if listening. She shook her head:

– No. If you want your Virita, I can try to push her and drink her out, but… No, it’s unlikely. Sorry. A delicate violet in a deep swoon.

– Where – fainting? – asked Marius. It sounded extremely stupid, but the girl understood. And she even answered, tapping herself on the forehead:

– Somewhere here, probably. But how I ended up in it is the question! And who, I ask you, will answer it for me?

“I don’t understand anything,” Marius admitted.

“It would be something to understand,” Master Turvon grabbed the girl under the arms and put her on her feet: “Stop sitting here.” Let's go to the house and we'll talk there. “And I’ll open a window for you, my mansions are not designed for horses,” he told the Ancient One disrespectfully. – And the only treats are carrots. Shouldn't I offer you hay?

Master Turvon’s “mansions,” to be honest and frank, were not designed for guests at all, especially girls from noble families. In the basement of the tower, the same one where the necromancer received rare visitors, there was a kitchen. Rough stone walls, a primitive hearth in which you could roast a whole deer if desired, a shelf with simple pottery, a huge table, several squat oak stools. Door to the pantry, hole to the basement. The Virita deglia Bornio that Marius remembered would have been afraid to look here out of the corner of her eye, let alone calmly enter. And the girl, whom the mentor had seated on a stool by the fire, looked around with interest and declared approvingly:

– It’s beautiful here. Atmospheric. At such a table, it’s not about chewing sandwiches, but about stuffing meat.

“Bring the meat, student,” the master ordered. – Just open the window first. “That’s it,” he waved his hand to where a dark horse’s muzzle loomed behind the cloudy glass. – And don’t even think about giving him a carrot!

– And what?

– Yes, the same as for us. Just put it on a tray so that it’s convenient to eat with a horse’s muzzle.

I had to put aside curiosity and do what students are supposed to do under the master – that is, “cook, bring, serve” (and thank you that mentor Turvon did without the final “get out”!). Smoked venison, fresh village bread (just yesterday I ran to the baker for it!), foamy beer in a keg – a real feast. Although not exactly the kind of treat that should be served to a noble maiden. But the guest ate and drank with visible pleasure – and with the same visible lack of manners. It was probably a good thing that the real Virita was somewhere out there, fainting in her own head. Otherwise I would have fainted again, for real.