Аннотация: Chris Bug, a street thief, becomes the third son of the forest baron by the will of fate and goes to study at the Raven school, on the orders of the old magician.
Chapter 1.
I expected anything but that this well-dressed and outwardly good-natured guy would be killed. That they would be robbed, yes, I was sure of it, but that they would be killed? However, here he is wheezing, kicking his legs and sticking out his tongue, which is not surprising - how else should someone behave who has a stranglehold on his throat?
"Now, now, don't twitch," Fat Guo advised the poor guy, watching the massacre with professional interest. "Relax, and everything will be over faster."
"And that's almost it," the Big Man, who was actually wielding the garrote, growled knowingly. "He's going to shit himself already, look how his belly is straining."
Dear Miralina, when they strangle him, they will most likely send me to all the gods. Why would they want an extra witness, even if he was one of those who lived in the Sixteen Gallows quarter, which meant he would keep quiet about what he had seen?
"Pshaw!" This guy is tenacious, his eyes are already so bulging out of their sockets that he looks like a deep-sea fish, his tongue is hanging down to his knees, and he's still trying to put his fingers under the rope.
"Seven demons Зарху!" Fat Guo grimaced. "Big guy, finish it already. I want a drink."
Sh-sh-shh! And the Big Guy flies off against the wall of the barn where we are. Almost the entire territory of the old port warehouses is built up with such sheds, similar to each other, like siblings, they once held goods that sailors brought from the Yellow Islands, and life here was in full swing.
But that was when it was. Now it's quiet, creepy, and always deserted. They say that on the seventh anniversary of the Great Plague, the royal mortuses dragged corpses here and dumped them in heaps, but I think that's all lies. Figure it out for yourself, what's the point of dragging them to sheds and then transporting them somewhere else to be burned? It's easier to burn it down immediately along with the construction.
That's exactly where this noble was dragged, because, as already mentioned, it's quiet and deserted here.
"What's it?" The Caterpillar, Tolstoy's Go girlfriend, screamed.
"Not what, but who!" a quiet old man's voice was heard, and a painted girl with a half-shaved head in the latest fashion of the Port Quarter, screaming terribly, clutched her face. Two small fountains of sparks shot out of her eyes. It was a scary and beautiful sight at the same time.
Magician!" the Ancient One, Guo's right-hand man, gasped hollowly and drew his huge "pig-punch". - Oh, and there will be a massacre!
"Damn you all!" Fat Guo looked at the half-hearted young man, who was still conscious, moreover, pulling the noose from his neck with badly bent fingers, while trying to get to his feet. "What kind of day is this, huh?"
Fat Guo, justifying his nickname, was indeed not very thin, but at the same time, there was no denying his agility. In three steps, as if dancing, he approached the nobleman, who was already standing on his own two feet, and clung to him, as if in search of same-sex love forbidden by the gods and royal decrees.
When and how he managed to take out the dagger, I did not even understand. A second later, Go took a step to the side, and now anyone curious could easily explore the inner world of the almost escaped poor man. His Fat belly was sliced expertly, that's for sure. Now no doctor can help, that's a fact. The noble wheezed, thick black-red blood gushed out of his mouth, and with his hands he tried to stuff back into his open stomach a nasty-looking slimy lump of intestines that literally fell out of him.
"Agrippa!" the magician literally groaned, addressing who knows who. "Agrippa, we're too late!"
The Ancient One was right - the old man had a magician's staff in his hands, and when I saw this, I realized that now we were all definitely finished. Apparently, the guy was his son. And now the magician will avenge him, which is understandable, which means he will kill all those responsible for his death. It would be a good thing if I died quickly and immediately-it would be considered a lot of luck.
"The staff!" Fat Go roared. "Take the staff away from him, you fellows!"
Three of his henchmen jumped towards the magician, but these movements were in vain - one was thrown against the wall by lightning, making a hole in his chest the size of my fist, the second's belt turned into a hideous-looking cave viper, which immediately clung with giant curved fangs to the bandit's stomach, and the third magician, without any sentimentality, simply smashed his head with the top of his staff.
Go, apparently, did not rely too much on his henchmen, and therefore decided to escape under cover and, spitting on his dying comrades, slipped to the door. But he was unlucky too - stepping towards the opening, he literally impaled himself on the long blade of a heavy sword, which was held in the hand of an elderly man with a scarred face, as it is obvious - the same Agrippa.
"Ar-r-r!" Guo hissed, grabbing the blade with his hands.
"Agrippa, why? He could have told us who hired them!" The magician pointed the pommel of his staff at the Caterpillar, which was still alive and rolling on the floor with a squeal, covering its eyes with its palms. "Oh, how she screams!"
A blue-white spark shot out of the staff and hit the Caterpillar in the left chest. The girl twitched a couple more times and fell silent.
"Who?" the magician ran up to Go, whom the one he called Agrippa literally shook off the blade and onto the floor. "Who hired you?"
"baa" The bandit was conscious and, of course, realized that he was dying. He didn't want to answer the questions and instead showed the magician a tongue as wide as a shovel, croaking in addition: "Fuck you, you old goat, do you know where?"
"Who?" The magician grabbed his head and shook it. " Who? Tell me, and I'll send your soul to its Resting Place."
"Who needs me there?" Go started to laugh, but coughed and splattered the magician's face with blood.
"There are so many corpses on me that I don't even know myself...."
The speech changed to a hoarse sound, and the Fat Guo twitched and fell silent. At the same time, the young man who started all this fuss gave his soul to the gods.
"What a nuisance!" The magician threw up his hands. "Agrippa, I would never have thought that I could lose everything at once. The Baron is dead, and I can't even imagine who wanted to take his life. It's clear why, but who?"
"Anyone," Agrippa replied calmly, thrusting the blade of his sword into the throat of the bandit who had been bitten by the snake. Even though he would have passed away in five minutes anyway, what was the point? "Do you have many bosom enemies?"
"Any magician has a lot of them." The old man stamped his foot. "But no one could even imagine that I would be here. Nobody! I only made the decision yesterday to turn into this city, you know that very well."
"Guessing and calculating are two different things." Agrippa looked around him. "Master, you are wise, your equals on the lands of the entire continent can be counted on the fingers of one hand, but this does not mean that you cannot be counted. I personally managed to do this once, you should remember that case. Why can't someone else do something like that?"
"Apparently, you're right," the magician admitted, bending over the young man's corpse lying in a pool of blood. "And if so, then whoever is behind it acted on a large scale. Imagine the number of possible scenarios. It turns out that he had a similar gang in each of the cities, and this is very expensive."
"It's just a technical issue. If you have several smart assistants and enough funds, it can be solved quickly and efficiently. Agrippa went to the pile of trash in the corner of the barn, where I was hiding. And more. Master, it might not be "him". It could have been "her." Don't discount Magisteress Evangeline and Magisteress Vitaly."
"They would have acted differently." The magician grimaced. "These are ladies, they don't tolerate violence. Poison in a glass of wine or a snake in bed, yes. But bandits, scum from the streets?"
"Prejudice!" Agrippa stood frozen next to the trash; I could see the soles of his boots, solid buff leather, and the heels with horseshoes. Expensive shoes, such boots cost under fifty gold pieces. "Times are changing, master, traditions and habits are also changing, this must be recognized and accepted. I'll note that Master's student Evangeline realized this a couple of years ago and could easily have worked on the paradox. Magisteress Evangeline is a strong opponent. And she hates you like no one else."
"Should we raise him from the dead?" The magician looked at the body of the Fat Go. "Yes, ask around?"
"It's a forbidden ritual." Agrippa replied. "However, the law is not written for you, I've been used to it for a long time. But please note that we are in a city, and a densely populated one at that. There's probably a representative office of the Order of Truth here, or even a full-fledged mission. Do you want to explain yourself to the black brothers later?"
This Agrippa is right - the mission of the Order of Truth in our city of Raymille is full-fledged, with an elder father, three mentor fathers, two dozen bloodhound brothers and a dozen execution brothers.
The capital of the kingdom is, after all, obliging. I've been in their building more than once, they arrange a free lunch for the poor every week, reminding me: "The Order is for the people, not the people for the order." Formalism is in their blood, which is not too surprising, especially if you know their history. I knew this very story; during free lunches, one of the mentor fathers would certainly tell it so that people would realize who they were visiting. And I've also heard a lot about magicians from them.
The Order of Truth appeared about three hundred years ago, in those times that were later called the Age of Troubles or the Age of Change, and which changed the face of our entire world, called Ragellon, from the Icy Islands in the north to the Southern Ocean. Ragellon was also sometimes called the tricky word "continent", I do not even know why. But it's a beautiful word.
So, three hundred years ago, for some reason, almost simultaneously, in just a year or two, representatives of almost all the noble families of Ragellon, including the royal ones, died, and the pestilence mowed them down to the fifth generation. It was hardly an accident, but no one ever got to the bottom of the real reason. And they didn't investigate too much, because everyone wasn't up to it. There were many empty thrones, and even more applicants for them. And each of the applicants, even the most wretched, had followers who tried in every possible way to put their principal higher. Plus, under the guise of particularly dashing adventurers, without further ado, they began to redraw the long-separated borders of the kingdoms.
As a result, the world was engulfed by war. Everyone was slaughtering everyone, any methods and means were used, people were just maddened by violence and blood.
Unsurprisingly, steel soon ceased to be the only way to strengthen its position, and magic came to its aid. And black, of course, because white sorcery is not for war.
It is not known which of the powerful was the first to allow the ancient rituals of night and death magic to be performed again, but after him, ignoring the Circle of Magicians, all kingdoms allowed the practice of forbidden witchcraft openly, without fear of punishment. Or maybe no one allowed it, maybe the warlocks themselves decided to regain their rights.
The earth moved in the cemeteries, and the dead climbed out to torment the living. Wooden idols were re-erected on the old temples, and their mouths were thickly smeared with fresh blood. A purple mist swirled in the gorges of the Cold Mountains, inhaling which, a person forgot everything he knew. As in the old days, wreaths of blackthorn appeared on the doors of village houses, which, according to legend, deflects evil eyes and black souls. Anarchy gave rise to violence, violence called for evil, and evil always doesn't care about anything and everyone, it has its own goals.
Black magicians, warlocks, witches - all those that people have long forgotten about, it turns out, have not disappeared at all. They've just been holed up somewhere all this time and waiting in the wings. And they waited.
Very soon, those who gave them freedom regretted it. The Disciples of Darkness were not going to win back the thrones to anyone, they were only interested in their own fate and all the power over people that they could reach. No, they could put a man on the throne who was convenient for them, but on condition that he would play by their rules and benefit them. The new ruler had to keep his personal interests to himself, being, in fact, nothing more than a puppet in someone else's hands.
Then everything was simple. The servants of Evil once again made a mistake that cost many of their lives. It's just that they've never been able to unite, unlike their colleagues who practice the magic of light and life.
It is worth noting that magicians of different faiths and schools have never unnecessarily fought with each other. They got along very well, because they had nothing to share, and their methods were different. However, if it came to personal interests, like power or money, anything could happen. However, everyone is guilty of this, both magicians and ordinary people. And another controversial question is who is bigger.
However, the light magicians also made a mistake that time. More precisely, they were too late. They then understood perfectly well what was going on, and patiently waited for people who were not gifted to come to them with a bow and a request for help. The Conclave of Light Magicians even prepared a list of demands - payment for their help.
But that's just the help ordinary people didn't need. For the first time in Ragellon's history, they solved a problem related to magic on their own.
It all started in the largest city on the continent, in the capital of the kingdom of Iront - Miklight. And, as usual, a small pebble turned out to be the cause of a huge avalanche.
The captain of the royal Guard, Diord, returned home to find his wife in tears and very quickly found out what caused it. It turns out that their six-year-old daughter was taken away an hour ago, without any explanation, by a black magician from the order of the Goblet of Night, the same one whose adherents enthroned the king two years ago and then did whatever they wanted in Ironte.
Diord rushed to the order's building, but it was too late - his baby had already been sacrificed during some kind of creepy ritual. All that was left of her was a little dress and a pigtail of light brown hair cut off at the root. As if in mockery, they were given to the blackened captain by two young and very arrogant novices of the order.
I wish they hadn't done that. The captain did not drown his grief in wine, did not blame his wife for everything, who did not look after her daughter, and beat his fists in his chest. No. He went to his soldiers and asked them:
"Brothers, how long will these damned wizards torment us?"
He said a lot more. First- to the guards, and then to the townspeople, who listened attentively to him. And in the evening, the people, led by the captain, tore down the tower where the "Goblet of Night" lived, brick by brick, and burned its inhabitants to all the demons.
And, remarkably, none of the townspeople died. And the curse didn't fall on anyone's head. The magicians just died screaming on poles in flames, and that was it.
Such news travels fast, and people who are tired of fear easily assimilate what is beneficial to them.
Bonfires were lit everywhere - in big cities and small villages, in mountain villages and forest towns. The people began to destroy magicians so famously that they didn't even really understand whether they were black or light? A wizard? Come to the bonfire!
At the same time, internecine wars stopped by themselves, some even said that it was the magicians who fanned them. It is possible that this was actually the case. At some point, it got to the point that, almost for the first time since the beginning of time, magicians of all faiths gathered for one common council. What kind of squabbles and old grudges are there, when the probability of complete extermination of the wizards.
The lords of men were also called to this council, the very ones who had recently eaten from the palm of the magicians' hand. And they were more than confident now.
And already ordinary people put up an unaffordable bill to the magicians, which they had to pay in exchange for their lives. Or, alternatively, accept it and no longer claim anything in this world. The magicians chose the latter, they were simply left with no choice.
In fact, this is how the Age of Troubles ended. The borders of the kingdoms were defined again, although there were much more states than before, but these are small things. New kings sat on their thrones, and magically ungifted people became the true masters of the continent. Well, the wizards got the right to life and a number of responsibilities that could not be avoided. Magicians were forbidden to hold any significant positions in the state. That was the price of their slowness and arrogance.
And then there was the Order of Truth. An organization that made sure that the owners of the magical gift did not allow themselves anything superfluous.
No, there was no talk of any total control over the magicians, but from now on they always remembered that the door to their tower, castle or just a house could collapse at some point, strong silent people in black robes would enter the empty doorway, and then everything would be very bad. Then there will be a barbed rope, a rough tree behind your back, and smoke that bursts your chest, making you cough uncontrollably. And then the pain until death. And no one will listen to them, because there will be nothing to say - their tongue will be torn out immediately, even in the house.
And there is no escape from this. A wizard is a wizard, but he is one, and there are many ordinary people. Even if he's good at combat magic, it won't save him. At the very least, he'll just be overwhelmed with bodies, that's all. And in a confined space, with your hands tied and your tongue torn out, you can't do much magic.
Decades passed, life on the continent settled down, the horrors of the Century of Troubles were slowly forgotten. The magicians gradually regained their positions in society (although they were no longer allowed to come to power, this rule was unshakable), and the servants of the order began to engage in side business. For example, they opened schools for the children of the poor, fed the homeless, and cultivated a healthy lifestyle among the population. But they had not forgotten their main business, for which the order was created, and therefore the dark ritual mentioned by the magician could not pass them by, the bloodhound brothers had their own ways of finding out about such things.
And with a high degree of probability, very soon this magician would have to answer the questions of his mentor father. Why did he kill these people? And why did he summon the soul of one of them from the Dark Reaches? And isn't he plotting to create an army of the undead to overthrow the legitimate government in this kingdom?
"Your truth," the magician sighed. "I'll explain myself, but how long will it take! Although now I have it. No, well, it's a shame - they were just too late, just a minute earlier, and the baron would still be alive. Here it is, minus tracking spells - they point the direction correctly, but they are completely useless on the ground.
"Master, let's talk to this young man." They grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and dragged me out from under the rotten boards, where I hid at the moment when the magician first appeared on the threshold. "Maybe he can tell us something that we don't know?"
Agrippa's strength was incredible. He held me at arm's length, not straining at all. Although I'm not as obese as my friend Bubuka, I'm still not a chicken feather that doesn't weigh anything.
"Come on." The magician came up to me. "Come on's, young man. And what is your name?"
"Kostezhog ," I replied immediately. "Kostezhog from the Port Quarter. I was just spending the night here, and as soon as they arrived, I immediately hid. This is the first time I've ever seen them. The truth is the truth."
"What is remarkable, Agrippa," The magician said to his companion, "He's holding up very, very well. And he says so... Confident, maybe. Well done."
The magician looked at me thoughtfully from head to toe. I did the same thing.
The wizard was very old, much older than I had first thought. He must have been two hundred years old, if not more. They magicians live a very long time. Mentor Jock told me that they can live forever if they are not killed.
But they die the same way as ordinary people, if they are dealt a blow with knowledge. In the heart or in the head. But you must definitely beat to death, so that they don't have time to put a curse on you.
"So who are you?" The magician asked me in a suspiciously friendly manner. "Just tell me your real name. Let's not waste our time together."
"What's your name?" Agrippa shook me without sentiment. "What are you doing?"
"Chris," I grumbled reluctantly, realizing that I shouldn't lie this time. For some reason, I knew for sure that lying would turn out badly for me. "Chris is a Bug. I am a student of Master thief Jock Three-Eyes."
"What names, Agrippa," the magician sighed. "And where are these names used? In the kingdom of Forscheid, the very place where the great art of blank verse originated two hundred years ago. No, the decline in morals is simply terrifying."
"That's a good name," I muttered. "What is it that you don't like?"
"Talk some more." They shook me without much pity.
"Discussion is great." The magician grabbed my chin with unexpectedly strong and cold fingers and stared into my eyes. "Why did you kill that young man over there? Who ordered you to do this? Who hired you?"
"I don't know!" I wanted to howl out loud. I really didn't know that, but I couldn't give the magician any proof of my words. "Go, the one who sent you before he died, told me to lure this noble into an alley, and there he himself received him, along with his chapel."
"A chapel?" The magician frowned.
"Well yeah" I looked around. "She's all over there... lying around."
"A gang," Agrippa explained. "There are so many cities, so many names. Keep talking."
And they shook me again. Dear Lionella, how strong he is! He's been holding me at arm's length for so long, and at least he's crying.
"I lost at dice Go two weeks ago." I immediately continued. "I still have to. It would be nice to have money, otherwise it's not theirs, but the business. It's one thing. Gambling duty is sacred, so there was nowhere else to go. Well, I lured your boyfriend into the alley. I can do that, it's part of my profession."
"The young baron was smart and careful," The magician noticed. "Besides- what could a ragamuffin like you possibly be interested in? Well, not whores, right?"
"I cut off his purse," I said with a sigh. "And I let him notice me. This is our usual trick. A man runs after you, gets into one of the alleys of the Port Quarter, and there he is... But I didn't know that Go was going to kill him! I thought they'd strip him as usual, maybe hit him on the head with a stick to make him sour. If I'd known they were planning a murder, I wouldn't have signed up for this case for any money!"
"And gambling debt?" Agrippa laughed. "Isn't he a holy cause?"
"Duty to duty is different. I'm a thief, my job is to clean other people's pockets, not poke people in the belly with a piece of iron. Fat Go was also a thief, I don't know why he decided to commit murder."
Well, I lied a little bit about the hardware and the belly. No, I've never killed anyone, but if it were my life, I don't know how it would have turned out.
"So you don't know anything at all?" The magician ignored my words. "Besides what I've already told you."
"Well yeah" I nodded. "They twisted your baron's arms in the alley, gagged him with a rag, and dragged him here. And me, too, before I could grease my heels. I think if it wasn't for you, they would have killed me too, so thank you guys for your help."
"He's cunning." The magician laughed. "Agrippa, we're like his saviors now, we don't have the moral right to take his life. And I definitely like him."
The magician approached the corpse of his acquaintance and shook his head:
"But what do we do now? The Baron is dead, all plans are ruined. What should I tell my colleagues?"
He poked at the pool of already clotted blood that had flowed from the corpse with the toe of his boot, tilted his head to his shoulder, examined the deceased, and then turned to us.
"Agrippa, let our new friend go." I finally felt the floor under my feet. It was nice.
"The height is the same." The magician looked me up and down thoughtfully. "Outwardly, yes, nothing in common, but height and build... More than enough."
"Master, this is a crazy idea." Agrippa snorted. "Where's the baron, and where's that ragamuffin from the docks? They don't even write that in ladies' novels, and they're an encyclopedia of nonsense."
"So don't read them," the magician advised him. "Well, yes, it's a dubious idea, but it's still better than nothing."
"Master, we can still make it to Lisiy Bor." Agrippa went over to the magician and said, "Let's find a better copy there, I don't think your friend Antiochus will refuse you such a favor."
"And I will be in his debt", The magician frowned. - Yes, debt is still okay, but he will know about what I'm up to. And not everyone is telling him that. And the most important thing is if I hire his student for our business...."
"Then he will tell Master Antioch everything first, and only then - to you," Agrippa continued. "I admit, I said something stupid."
"It doesn't matter if he tells him everything first." The magician said sententiously. "The trouble is that I will only receive the information that Antiochus deigns to give me, and he will dose it for sure. Friendship is friendship when people are on the same level and there is nothing between them that distinguishes one from the other. Any difference sooner or later makes this friendship either a patronage or a rivalry."
"That was great," I said sincerely. "It went straight to the bone."
"Boy, you drop it." Agrippa advised me. "You can't fool my master with flattery, believe me. If he decides to send you over the Edge, he will do it. If he wants to let go, he'll let go. Regardless of whether you're going to butter up to him or not."
"Yes, I am like that." The magician looked at Agrippa. "You know, I'm still inclined to think about trying to use it."
"Master, I keep saying that he's a baron, just like I'm a bandmaster," Agrippa persisted.
"Explain yourself," the magician suggested.
And then I realized: if Agrippa wins, most likely, I will be, as he put it, "sent over the Edge." It's a beautiful phrase, but it's very, very unpleasant for me. That's just the way it's going to be. It is unlikely that this very smart magician would mention his plans and any names in the presence of someone who would then be able to tell someone. He just didn't even take me into account. And why should he be afraid? What would someone ask of him for the death of a homeless boy thief?
"Okay, so are height and build. But the appearance?" Agrippa began, and the magician, bending one finger, immediately answered him:
"And who knows the Baron by sight? And who has ever seen him? Not even like that. Tell me, who has seen at least one baron from the Forest Region in the blessed duchy of Himmelstein, where you and I were taking our deceased friend? These barons, even in the neighboring royal courts from the Forest Edge, do not know what to say about their children. And ours was not even an heir, but a third son. Remember, his dad almost kissed my hands when I picked him up. And he said goodbye to him in such a way that it was clear that they would not see each other again in this life.
"Okay." Agrippa nodded. "And the manners? Where is the baron, and where is this?"
"One is no different from the other." The Magician laughed "The barons from the outskirts are no better than the savages. You were the first to get upset when you saw how their dogs were licking their plates. It's generally debatable who has better manners. It seems to me that the thief from the capital of a fairly enlightened kingdom knows more than the baron from the bear corner. Another topic is literacy. That's right. Our confidant could read and write, but this Mr. Bug..."
"I can do that!" I almost clapped my hands. "And read and write! I know a little about the common language, and Falconese, and even the runes of the Ice Islands!"
"What are you saying!" The magician was delighted. "That's how it is! No, Egibert the Fifth is still a good king, he cares about the universal education of his subjects. Even the thieves on the streets know how to read and write."
"It worries me more than it pleases me. Agrippa noticed with a frown, and I was grabbed by the collar again. "Okay, a common language, but how does this rascal know Falconese, and even more so runes, even if only a little?"
They had a common language, and it was spoken by the whole of Ragellon, from the Southern Ocean to the Forest Region, but not everyone really knew Falconese. It was the language of the elves, who from time immemorial had lived in their closed kingdom on the eastern tip of the continent. And the runes of the Nordligs from the islands were rarely used.
"Li-isten..." the Magician looked at me thoughtfully. "Aren't you a prince in exile? Or maybe you were abducted from your father's house, and now the inconsolable countess-mother is looking for you? You know, I absolutely do not need it to turn out at the most crucial moment that you are the scion of a noble family and the blood of your ancestors calls you to accept the keys to the ancestral castle."
"Nope," I replied with genuine disappointment. "I'm rootless, that's for sure. If it were as you say, I would have already claimed a part of the property long ago. Or he even sent all his relatives to the other world in order to grab everything for himself. I'm not greedy, but I love money."
"Another argument, and a weighty one at that." The magician looked at Agrippa. "He has few principles and is selfish."
"He'll sell us out on occasion." Apparently, this big guy didn't like me very much. "By the way, you still haven't answered my question."
"He ate up at a noble house," I decided not to lie this time either. Who knows him, the magician, he seems to sense lies in his gut. They taught their son all kinds of science there, so they put me in the classroom with him so that he wouldn't be bored. Well, so that he understands how smart he is and how dumb I am. I could listen, but I couldn't answer."
"It's a progressive method," the magician admitted. "I assumed something like that - your speech is very clear, and you express your thoughts more or less coherently. Agrippa?"
"I admit it," he agreed. "Oh, one more thing. He probably doesn't know how to wield a noble weapon. He certainly hadn't been taught that."
"I don't know what else to expect from him anymore." The magician looked at me hopefully. "Can you swing a sword?"
"I can't," I disappointed. "Except I'm pretty good with a knife. I can also fight on poles, but it's not that good. And, of course, he's trained to swing his fists, there's no way without it."
"Poles." The magician snapped his fingers. "That's something. We have time. Although it is small, it is there. You'll show him the basic sword fighting stances on the way."
"On the way to where?" I asked. "Not that I'm curious, but..."
"On the way to the right place." The magician came up to me and patted me on the head. "There is a time for everything."
And then he pulled my hair up so hard that tears came out of my eyes.
"And don't think you've got your life back, son," He told me very softly, very tenderly, and very fearfully. "I'm lending it to you, and that's all for now. I'm not even lending you your life, but the life of that guy over there, Baron Erast von Ruth, the third son of his run-down baronial family. You're him now. And may all the gods, as many as there are in this world, save you from disappointing or letting me down a little. I'm a very, very kind person, that's your problem. Evil people just kill. And the good ones... Forgive me for the pathos, but the kind prolong death to the limits beyond which madness begins.