“It’s useless to scream, Emba,” Nikto chuckled. “No matter how loud you scream, the “unclean” will not hear you here. This castle was built by literate people, and these walls are suppressed by the cries of people like you!’

“So that's why you lured me here!” she darted around the room, clawing at the walls in desperation. Not letting Nikto go to her.

“Your own curiosity lured you here! I just invited you to come, and if you can, to help me.”

“I helped! I did everything that is necessary!”

“This is not enough for me!”

“Do not come close! Do not come to me!”

“You don’t have to do anything that I ask!” despite her fierce resistance, Nikto still managed to grab her, writhing, splashing her saliva. He was stronger, wringing her hands in several precise movements, grabbing a knife and slashing Emba around her wrist. Dark, maroon, almost black blood spurted from the cut.

“It will cost you a lot!” she hissed, choking with rage and pain, it seemed that only her full of hatred not blinking eyes can destroy.

“Do what I said!” Nikto again threw her on the bed to Arel. Arel recoiled in horror.

“Well, you regret it! Take it!” Emba held out her cut, bloody hand to him. “Eat, little bastard!”

And then Arel felt Nikto grabbing his hair, putting pressure on the back of his head and pushing him forward to that nasty hand.

“No!” Arel tried to escape. His lips touched warm and dry skin and something else cold and clammy. He felt his stomach bouncing to his throat from stupefying disgust. He felt Nikto throw his head back up, not letting him expel that mucus that had already fallen into his mouth.

Already flowed on his throat. And already IT was pressed to his lips again, and Arelshouted, vomiting IT out of himself, and each time his mouth was filled with IT again and again.

Chapter two

Recovery

He walked down the street; it seems that it was Lower City. Too narrow streets and pressing clutter of houses. The streets did not rise up and down, and did not loop. It looks like it was already a flat level. Arel has never been here, and now was he really where he thought he was?

And was this him? Arel did not understand. He could not even imagine that such streets exist. He never thought about what the city looks like there, on the plain. There was no difference to him? But now, now everything looked too plausible, really, and for some reason he believed that the Lower City plain was like that and no other. He just knew it, knew without a shadow of doubt and hesitation. Did his diseased brain or inflamed imagination create this world? Create everything so carefully, to the smallest detail, to every stone, every crack on a peeling wall? No, that would be too much! He could not imagine all this. It was all real, it was all real. And if he comes to himself, wakes up and goes there, for example, tomorrow, he will find these streets, see them again and find out. However, to see them, he had to peer. Vision let him down, he could not understand what was happening, at another moment, completely losing orientation in space.

It was a bright sunny summer day. He understood this and felt, and at the same time he knew that now it was not summer at all, but only the beginning of spring, and he could not be there, on the Lower City, and even on a summer day. And yet he was there.

Arel like a mole slowly walked an unknown destination, all the while keeping a hand on the walls. The houses here stood close to each other, and when one house ended, the next one started – it helped him. Several times he pressed against the saving wall, letting the horsemen pass by. They flashed in his mind as completely indistinguishable silhouettes, vague shadows, and he rather heard their approach and therefore pressed into the wall than saw them. And yet, despite all the precautions, he nearly fell a couple of times, his legs did not obey him any less than his eyes. Gods, he was lame! “All this only seems to me! It only seems! It seems to me that I am Nikto! I am he!” – thought Arel, with a kind of horror and at the same time delight.