Dool. Edgars Auziņš

the mentor chuckled. – Clueless, but brave. This is not a raised creature or even an infused spirit. This is – meet me, young man! – Ancient One incarnate. Or rather, the Ancient One is on the verge of incarnation.

      – D-ancient?! – Marius hiccupped. It’s not that he hasn’t heard of the old gods at all, but, the Great One sees, it’s one thing to listen to all sorts of fables, and quite another thing to meet them in reality like that! And how are they all still alive?! Although… is that all? “Um-mm…” Marius drawled. – Greetings, glad to meet you and all that, but, master, what’s wrong with the girl? Is it possible to touch her? At least move it from here and see if I’m badly hurt. Help…

      Whether Ancient or not, this creature screamed – stallion stallion!

      “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.

      “So, our dear and so far nameless guest…” Master Turvon began when Marius set out the treats and sat down opposite the girl.

      – Why is it nameless?! – without listening to the end, she became indignant. – My name is Natalya. Yes, Natasha.

      – This is the name of your world, your former body. And you, let me tell you, are just a soul. Before a new incarnation, souls forget their previous life.

      – I don’t know anything, I remember everything. And in general, some kind of “new incarnation”?! You, as I understand it, pulled me out here, stuck me in someone else’s body, which, by the way, is an adult and quite occupied. Not ready for a new life! This is not to mention the fact that I somehow missed the ending of the old one! Your job?

      – Not mine. Personally, I didn’t pull you out of anything or shove you anywhere,” Turvon objected grumpily. The horse neighed mockingly. Marius would also have neighed if he had been watching this bazaar from the sidelines! It just seemed like it was not the mentor, but him, who would have to deal with the consequences. Because why else are students needed? That’s right, push the most unpleasant things onto them!

      “It’s better to ask Virita why she interfered in the ritual,” Marius couldn’t resist. – She got into the circle at full gallop and screaming, and we are to blame.

      “So it’s not her you need to ask,” the guest shrugged. – There’s a face looking in the window. The horse is shameful. Your girl has already said goodbye to her life, but he has done things and is laughing.

      “And he would probably be the one who could explain everything.” Is it possible to talk to him at all? – Marius asked hopelessly. It seems that instead of answers to his questions and clear explanations worthy of a master necromancer, he will receive an ugly market squabble. But two souls in one body – according to all canons, a complete disorder! And something needs to be done about it. And who should do it if this disgrace fell on their heads with their mentor? This Ancient One is also incomprehensible. The more Marius looked at him, the less he looked like the horror of legends. Although it is not for nothing that the mentor says that truly dangerous things do not look frightening…

      “I called a soul that could become an invisible guardian for Virita degli Bornio,” the master spoke slowly, intertwining his fingers in a lock. “Her father insisted on constant protection and certainly demanded the spirit of the feminine principle in order to preserve the honor and modesty of his innocent daughter. And this spirit should not have occupied the body of its ward at all!

      – And he also had to be able to do something in terms of defense? – Natalya asked mockingly. – Well, I’ll make you happy, something went wrong.

      She finished her beer, slammed the mug down on the table, jumped up and walked over to the Ancient One. She grabbed the long ponytail.

      – Stab, horse, it was you who arranged everything! And don’t make blank eyes at me here, you’re not the cat from “Shrek”!

      The horse rolled his eyes and lay down, and a foggy male figure loomed in the window opening. It filled with color and life – and now on the windowsill sits the most ordinary robber-looking lout: in a forest-green suit, overgrown with a beard