Chapter 1
"Here you go again! You nasty bastard!" the stone flashed through the air and hit Ned in the shoulder blade. It hurt, it was offensive, but most importantly, it made him stumble and drop his entire lunch into the stinking puddle left by the cow. It was also his dinner. It was also his breakfast. It was also... basically all the food he had been given for the whole day - a loaf of bread, an onion, a couple of hard-boiled eggs and a pinch of salt. The bundle, made from a piece of old linen, got wet and soaked in brown liquid.
"That's it - I can forget about bread!" Ned thought bitterly. "At least the boiled eggs remained intact, and that's good!" And then he almost groaned in disappointment - his foot in an elegant boot stepped on the bundle, crushing it into a flat cake.
"And she didn't regret the new boots!" - Ned thought, looking up at Sally's smiling face. And as it often happened - his breath caught when he looked at that beautiful face framed by golden curls. Sally was beautiful. So beautiful that he could not speak normally in her presence, he stuttered and blushed, becoming a complete idiot.
She laughed a melodious laugh, like the ringing of bells, and mockingly asked:
- What did you have there, Foundling? Treasure? Or poison that you decided to put in our cows?
- That was my dinner - he noted bitterly - and now I will be hungry all day.
- Oh-oh - the girl mockingly drawled, and squinting angrily, said - you do not need to be fed at all! Wretch!
- What did I do to displease you? - Ned answered, trying to speak calmly, keeping an eye on the group of five guys circling him.
- You?! You... you... you vile offspring of the Ards! You killed my brother! You robbed, you killed! Creatures! Hateful creatures! - the girl choked with hatred, and hit Ned in the face with all her might. He only closed his eyes, and when he opened them, the guys were already too close.
The first blow hit his ear, causing it to ring and go deaf. The second - in the eye, so that sparks fell and colored circles appeared.
Ned did not resist. For his age, the guy was quite large and tall, but in him there was a constant awareness of his worthlessness, hammered into his head since childhood. His "family" - the people who took in and raised the Foundling - kept telling him that he had to atone for the guilt of his ancestors, that he was worthless, worthless, fit only to herd cows and do dirty work. A dumb oaf!
He was not dumb. But tell me - who would be very intelligent if no one had ever taught him anything - except how to do chores around the house. And they wouldn't have taught him that, but otherwise he wouldn't be able to do his dirty work.
These seventeen years of life would have been hell for anyone who knew another life. Ned - he didn't know another life. A cage in the barn where he lived, next to the cattle, getting up at dawn, doing chores - bringing water, milking goats, cows. And when he grew up - he began to herd the communal herd. His family got money for that, he worked for food, and not to get a beating – yet again.
No – he got slapped on the back of the head, all the time, but is that a beating? A beating is when you can't sit down or lie down because of the pain in your body, cut with a belt. His foster father didn't love him. They didn't have any children of their own – the gods didn't give them, and they had to "raise" a stranger, and who else! Arda. A pirate, a robber, a bastard of a hated tribe, which for a long time kept the entire coast in fear.
Seventeen years ago, the Arda ship crashed on the rocks near the village of "Black Ravine". The entire crew of this ship perished, lashed by cruel waves on sharp reefs, and only by some miracle did the child, a baby, survive, whom the waves threw onto the rocky shore.
The morning after the disaster, the villagers gathered on the shore to see what had happened to the ship and to profit from the remains of its cargo, not devoured by the voracious sea, and then someone found a baby, goggle-eyed at the world. He did not cry, but only made quiet sounds, as if muttering something under his breath in an unknown language.
Ned never cried. Even if his "father" flogged him with a rawhide belt, leaving red stripes with beads of blood on his body. He did not cry even when the local kids caught him and beat him to death.
Children are small animals who, entering life, win their place in the sun like all animals - with teeth and fangs. And if they come across a creature weaker than them, they will certainly assert themselves by wiping their feet on it. So they did. Fortunately, there were no obstacles to this. If Ned tried to resist, the parents of the beaten children would go to his father and complain, after which Ned would not be able to sit on his whipped bottom for a week. After all, he had no right to harm the children of the Sans tribe, the people his tribesmen had robbed for centuries.
Sometimes, hiding in his nook and lying in the pitch darkness, Ned would listen to the clatter of cows' hooves and dream that one day a ship would sail in with the Ards, his fellow tribesmen, and take him away from here, take him far beyond the sea, to where he would always have a piece of bread and no one would kick him in the ribs at dawn. He was smart enough to understand that this was all fantasy. It was all nonsense. Not real. The real thing was right here - a bedding, a dog pressed against him and smelling of a wet, warm dog. The only creature that loved him. If you don't count the cows, of course. And the old slave Silan.
Ned grew. From a small man he grew into a huge fellow, two Santas tall, and the bigger he became, the less the villagers liked him.
It would seem - what had he done to them? What do the Ards have to do with this, and the little man who miraculously escaped from the storm waves? But the son of a wolf is a wolf himself. When he grows up, he will cut, beat, kill! But isn't it time to kill him before he gets into someone's house and rapes their daughter, kills their wife, burns down their house - the Ards are all like that - bandits, robbers, pirates. And this one will be a robber.
If it weren't for the fact that his "father" needed a worker - Ned might have been killed long ago. However - when he began to shepherd the public flock - the voices demanding his death died down - who wants to wander the hills all day long, watching over the unruly flock, in the rain and wind, without rest or holidays.
Only the children did not calm down, who became teenagers, then boys and girls, but did not change their rule - to poison this idiot Foundling, who so cheerfully runs away, without trying to fight back. And these were not only the children of the free - Ned got it from the children of slaves - even they were higher than him on the social ladder.
Why were they so angry? Who knows ... perhaps in their blood at the genetic level was laid - ard - enemy! Kill the ard! Ard - danger, death, fear!
A dog that has never seen a wolf, even a hunting dog - it is enough to draw a line in front of it with a wolf's paw, and the dog will never cross it. He will tuck his tail, whine, and throw himself at the feet of the owner. And how are people different from animals? Sometimes it seems - nothing.
Ned dodged the next punch to meet the opponent's knee - the guy broke his cheekbone, and now Ned's face would look even more bandit-like than before. He jumped out of the encirclement, rolled over his head and ran as fast as he could, to the hoots of the youth. Someone threw a stone after him, someone put their fingers in their mouth and whistled loudly, but now they couldn't get him - Ned ran fast, everyone knew that.
Narda ran next to him, happy - the silly dog thought it was a game. People push, toss and turn, and then run - what fun?
The herd was already climbing to the top of the hill, knocking down the morning dew. Ned caught up with a cow that had fallen behind, shouted loudly, adding a couple of expressions that he had heard from his "father" - for some reason, cows controlled themselves better if they were yelled at with obscenities. He had noticed this a long time ago. Narda barked, which made the cow quicken her pace, casting a sideways glance at the angry dog, who was pretending to bite the lazy cow's hind legs, kicked up, trying to hit the noisy dog, and trotted off to the main herd, which was controlled by a huge bull named Hurk.
Ned followed, sadly thinking that today he would have to feed on what he milked from the disobedient cows. In fact, it was punishable - the cows were not his, what right did he have to suck milk from them? But try and follow him when he was in the hills.
And he was terribly hungry. His growing body demanded nourishment, so demanded that sometimes he wanted to howl like a wolf. Ned was thin, sinewy, like an old elm. His body, not a child's, accustomed to hardships and hard work, strong, growing, demanded food, like a sprout languishing from thirst in the dry season. Alas, there was nothing to pamper the body with.
Ned sighed and decided that while Narda held the cows back, not letting them run away, he would swim to the sea under Cape Nadezhda. There were shells there - wonderful tasty meat. It was a pity there was no salt, but it didn't matter - he had flint, he had hands, he could find dry moss, a pot was hidden under a dry oak, he could break off some branches - oh, and he would crack hot shell meat!
Ned's mouth filled with saliva, and he spat it on the ground, into the dust, noting for himself that the saliva was stained pink. They had broken his lips, the creatures. He wanted to fight back so much, but what then? And then... then there was nowhere to go. And after he gives these scoundrels a thrashing, he will have to not only walk, but run – wherever his eyes look. However – it will happen someday anyway…
Sally's beautiful face, as if carved from white stone, rose before Ned's eyes. In the last year, when he began to grow up (and especially when he was stuffing himself with shells, secreting delicious white juice!), Sally had appeared in his dreams every time he fell asleep. Beautiful, desirable... and unattainable. The headman's daughter, and he, a rootless foundling, lower than the lowest, lower even than the slaves who felt quite comfortable in their collars and lived in a house, unlike him, a despised ard. What chances did he have of having this woman? It was even funny to think about it...
Sometimes he dreamed that one day, a ship would land on the shore, and people in shiny steel would descend from it, with sharp swords in their hands, and shout: "Ned! Ned, where are you! We have sailed for you! We are your kin! Come to us quickly, quickly!" - and he will run to them, bury his nose in the armor, hugging their broad, powerful shoulders. And they will ask - "Who offended you here?!" And then ... then it will be bad. Bad for everyone who beat him, persecuted him, humiliated him. And Net will sail away on a ship with striped sails, leaving behind a burning village that he hated with all his soul. And Sally will stand next to him, crying, desired. And then ... then he will crush her, and she will understand that there is no one better than Ned in the world, and she will love him.
He once shared his fantasies with the old slave Silan, who laughed for a long time, and then became sad and said:
- Don't tell anyone else about this. They will report to the master, he will decide that you want to run away ... and they will disfigure you so that you can hardly walk, and you will not even think about running away. They will break your legs and you will be a freak. I also once thought that everything would end well in the end, and where am I now? The same place as fifty years ago. Leave your fantasies and live in the present. You did not get the best master, yes. But what can you do? Perhaps this is punishment for your ancestors, who brought much grief and suffering to this people. For many generations, hatred towards your people has been cultivated here. Ardy are demons, Ardy are the scourge of the gods. As soon as spring comes and the winds begin to blow from the sea - expect Ardy raids. Lost ships, plundered villages - that is what Ardy are. And now - their offspring has fallen into their hands. And now you are atoning for the guilt of your ancestors. Alas, life is often unfair. I, too, was once kidnapped by slave owners, brought to the market in the capital, sold, and now here I am. No family, no children. Did I deserve this? I think not. But the gods think differently.
"And you never thought about running away?" Ned asked incredulously.
"Run where?" the old slave answered sadly. "Look, how can I blend in with the local crowd? Even you, if you get a haircut and a shave, can pass for a local, and me? Look at me! That's it…" and Silanus turned his dark, almost brown face away from Ned. He had once been brought from the neighboring, southern continent, and he stood out from the fair-haired and red-haired locals.
"But you could walk through the forests, eat game, try to get hired on a ship – you yourself said that they always need sailors!" Ned persisted.
"I ran away twice," Silanus answered sadly. They beat me badly, and in the end they knocked out the desire to run. The last time they beat me so badly that I couldn't get up for a month. After that, something died inside me. What can I say... here I am basically well-fed, I have other slaves under my command, a roof over my head, the owner, you could say, respects me - like one respects a good dog that is useful. What else could I want? A woman? I had women. Only no children. Apparently they beat everything out of me... I can't have children. But it's for the best - to see how your children are sold to other owners, or beaten, and you can't intervene? It's scary. Until I was ten, I lived free, and I managed to find out what freedom is like. Everywhere has its pros and cons - when I was free, I didn't always have enough to eat. But here - I am well-fed, shod, clothed. Yes, I can't always do what I want - but did I always do what I wanted when I was free? Don't you understand? How can you understand... you've been a slave since infancy. But I remember my childhood. My father hunted, my mother did housework. I foolishly ran to the seashore, and that's where I was spotted by the crew filling barrels with water. They beckoned me... and here I am already on the ship. I was happy, stupid... okay - enough. You don't need this. Go to your room, sleep. Otherwise the master will get angry, he will beat you. He doesn't like you. You remind him too much of those who killed his father, right before his eyes. Then the Ards raided the village, his father defended the family... His mother was raped - right above him, he sat under the bed and listened to her screams. So why should he love you? Sometimes I think that he deliberately took you to avenge his murdered father. As if he hopes that you are the son of the one who split his father's skull with a heavy sword.
- Tell me, Silan, who are the Ards? Why do they hate them so much? And in general - how does the world work?
- Ooooh... son - Silan laughed, almost putting out the tallow candle smoking on the table - you want to know what no one in the world knows!
Silan's wrinkled face, covered with small scars, wrinkled into a smile, then he spat through rare teeth into the garbage can, put the chewing mixture in his cheek, and said with a chuckle:
- No one knows how the world works. No one. I understand what you wanted to ask. It just became funny - how the world works! Okay, listen ... although I don't know how this will be useful to you. We live in the kingdom of Zamar, where King Iunakor now rules. This is the Middle Continent. There is the Southern, and there is the Northern. And this is the Middle. Well, and a lot of all sorts of islands. When the creator god threw stones, and the firmament was formed, some of them split and islands were formed from them. How many of them there are, no one knows. And then people appeared, after the creator god created them from pieces of flesh. Other gods were against the creation of people, but he did not listen to them and made proto-people. From them came the entire human race. Only he scattered them across different continents, and gave each tribe its own language, from which other languages came ... and then everything mixed up, new languages were formed ... and how this happened - no one knows. Apparently, demons mixed everything up. So - the Ards, your relatives, live on the Northern Continent. They come to us in the spring, late spring, when their ice melts. It is so cold there that the ocean freezes and becomes hard as stone. It is called ice. Did you see the mountains with white caps on the horizon? This is ice, it lies on the mountain tops and does not melt because it is very cold there. It is very cold for the Ards too. Life is hard for them, cold, hungry, everything is covered with snow and ice, that is why they try to sail to us every spring and take away what we have created. It is warm here, there is no snow, and therefore everything grows, everything multiplies, we have fat herds and good fields - unless there is a drought. But drought is rare - after all, the sea is nearby, rain is not uncommon. And we would live comfortably - if not for the Ards. Huge, strong, clad in steel armor, they come in late spring and take what they want. In addition to the captured valuables, they also take slaves. They usually take young, strong and beautiful boys and girls. Girls, of course - as concubines. Boys - as workers. The rest - if they resist - are killed. If they do not resist ... they are also sometimes killed. Sometimes not. As you wish. And also – they rob merchant ships at sea. Everyone who goes to sea should realize that they may not return. Even if you are a simple fisherman.
- And tell me about our kingdom! Is it a good kingdom? Are there any others like it? Why doesn't the king beat the Ards if they come here to rob?
- How impatient you are – Silan grinned – were you going home, huh? Otherwise, you'll oversleep in the morning, the master will beat you up. It's already late – do you see, the red moon is already high? And the black moon has already appeared, there, the edge is sticking out! And we are still chatting!
- Please, Silan, I am so interested! Well, tell me, huh? Tell me!
- Okay. But not for long. Otherwise, you'll have to rub some ointment on your back… the master is just waiting to spank you. Eehhhh… what a miserable fate. Others live in mansions, and you... Okay. Listen further. So - our kingdom. It occupies a third of the Middle Continent, and borders on the kingdom of Isfir, where Sholokar the Third is now king, and beyond Isfir is the kingdom of Harad, where Esson is king. They say that before all these kingdoms were one kingdom, but three princely brothers fought and tore the kingdom of Zamar into three parts. And their descendants still rule. I don't know the names of these brothers, so you don't have to ask. However, do we really care what their names were? The main thing is what is now, and not what happened in the distant, hoary past. Zamar stretches for many li, and we are one and a half thousand li from the capital of Zamar - Genela. To imagine how far that is - if you ride a horse, riding fifty li a day, you will arrive at the capital in thirty days! But fifty li a day is still a lot. Usually thirty to forty li, so the journey will take a very long time. By ship it is faster. But you still have to travel thirty li to the neighboring city, where there is a port - this is Shusard - there you have to pay for a place on the ship, if at that time there is a ship going to the capital, and then sail on it. And it is very expensive.
- And is Shusard a big city?
- Hmm... more than our village, that's for sure. Lots of people live there. There's a port through which merchants bring their goods to our lands. There they unload, buy horses or bulls, and then deliver the goods to villages, towns and villages. Probably a big city. To compare - you need to know more precisely. And what do I know? Nothing. What I've picked up over fifty years of my life, that's what I'm telling you. Many people from our village serve in Shusard - children, fathers. Some disappeared at sea along with the ships - this is also attributed to the Ards. Maybe he really killed the Ards, or maybe the greedy sea swallowed him up - who knows? It seems to me that the same Ards are credited with more than they actually do.
- And did they kill the owner's father in your presence?
- No. I haven't been here yet. And there haven't been any raids for fifty years, since the father of the current king sent a large invasion army to the Northern Continent. Then the Ards got it pretty bad, and they, it seems, signed a non-aggression pact with Isfir. Since then, they haven't landed on the coast. But what they do at sea - no one knows. I'm telling you - all the disappearances of ships are attributed to the Ards. You've confused me, I'm already confused - I forgot what I was saying! In general - so - the Ards are evil. So you are evil too. And what kind of evil - go to sleep! You don't sleep yourself, and you don't let me!
- Well, a little more, please! Tell me about the gods! Where did everything come from?
- Again? I told you that no one knows where everything came from. And there are eight gods, the main gods. The creator god Dinas, the creator goddess Auda - his wife, the god of war Kualtuk, the goddess of love Selera, and four gods of the elements - water - Praion, air - Shashan, earth - Ginoy, fire - Zhadar. And also - minor gods, patrons of crafts. They are worshiped by those who are in craft zarats - shoemakers' zarat worships its own god, merchants - another, and so on. There are many of them, you can't remember them all anyway. And I myself do not remember them all. Those who want to receive the blessing of the gods bring offerings to the temple of the god they want to appeal to. Sailors bring offerings to Praion, and also - if they are on a merchant ship - to the merchant god Geres. Naval sailors - to Praion and Kualtuk. Well, and to someone else, for example, the goddess of love - so that she will give them attractiveness and women will hang on them. There are temples in every city, and in each there are statues of the gods that their worshipers worship. Temples in neighboring states and in ours are the same. At least that's what they say - I myself have not seen. But on the Northern and Southern continents, there are different gods and different temples. I don't think there are any temples there at all. Or maybe there are – I won't lie. That's it, go to bed! Go to your room. The master doesn't like you staying in the house. Last time I got into such a mess because of you, when someone reported that you spent the night in my room. You screamed – I almost went deaf. And to top it off, you hit me in the ear. Here, chew this before you go to bed – Silan got a piece of stale flatbread with a slice of meat from somewhere and gave it to Ned – you need to eat a lot. Look at those shoulders you've grown, and there's no meat on them. A skeleton, a real skeleton! Run away from here!
Silan died a year ago. He got caught in the rain, caught a cold and died. They buried him in the cemetery where they buried slaves. Quickly. Without speeches or funeral ceremonies. Ned was not invited. After the funeral, he crept up to the mound where his only human friend lay and sat next to him, saying goodbye. His eyes burned, but Ned did not cry. He did not know how.
* * *
Ned looked at the sky and figured that the sun was already high. The cows were busily grazing on a green hill surrounded by patches of thorny bushes, and Ned decided:
"Narda, guard! I'm going to go diving! I'll give you some shells too! What, have you had enough already? Oh, you wretch! Should I bring some? Did you catch a rat, huh? Okay, okay… clever girl. Guard."
He turned and walked to the sea. The shore near the place where Ned wanted to dive was quite flat, but huge stones stuck out in the water, on which excellent shells grew, the largest and most delicious in the area. No one knew about his "field", and Ned had been collecting a magnificent harvest here for two years already. Shells the size of half a palm, fresh, satisfying - if not for them ... in general - these were his granaries that fed the guy all year round.
Throwing off his clothes, he carefully laid them on a stone away from the water - suddenly the tide would carry them away to the hellish demons. Then what to wear?
Ned dived into the clear, quiet water for half an hour, until an impressive pile of shells formed on the hem of the shirt in which he decided to carry the shells. Then, pulling on his pants and broken boots, Ned ran to the place where he hid the kettle, his only treasure.
It was a copper cauldron, which had appeared on the shore out of nowhere – apparently thrown up by storm waves. The cauldron was dented, but Ned straightened out his purchase, and now often used it for his culinary exercises – he baked shellfish in it, cooked a stew from the rabbits and birds caught by Narda, boiled a herbal infusion, which quenched thirst well in the hot time of day. Some writings were engraved on the cauldron, and Ned often examined them, cleaning off the soot with sand, wondering – what had the unknown masters written. So this time, he dug the cauldron out of the sand, sat down near a dry oak tree standing on the bank of a stream that formed in a hollow higher up, between the hills, and began to carefully examine the intricate hieroglyphs and pictures skillfully engraved on the steep sides of the vessel. Human figures, recognizable in the whimsical drawings, some dots, circles, triangles - chaotic, unsystematic... but attractive.
After watching the drawings, Ned sighed, and shaking the sand out of the pot, went to the stream - he needed to wash it properly, otherwise the sand would crunch on his teeth later. He rinsed it in ice water, filled it up to half, carried it back, put it on the grass, and began to build a fire. Well - this is not difficult. Small dry twigs, dried moss, a few blows with flint (a gift from Silan), sparks smoldered in the moss, blew... and now joyful smoke hit his nostrils - the smell of fire, the smell of food, the smell of life.
He lit a fire between two stones that he had long ago rolled for this very purpose. It was so convenient to put the pot on them, despite the fact that its bottom was absolutely round, like half a sphere. He filled the vessel to the brim with shells and put it on the fire. Now all he had to do was wait for it to boil, sit nearby for a while so that the shells would cook, and then he could stuff his belly. Sometimes he cooked the shells without water, simply stirring them in a thick pot. Then they secreted a white juice that he liked to drink. But after Ned noticed the effect of the juice, he began to cook them in water. After the juice, he wanted Sally terribly... unbearably, to the point of pain. Silanus explained this by the stimulating effect of the shell juice, which doctors prescribed to men suffering from weakness in bed. Well, and in general - to everyone who wanted to show themselves as a real man. Ned did not want to show himself as such, he had enough potency anyway... but he did not have a woman. And he was unlikely to - a worthless person like him - what kind of women? So we had to make do with our own strength...
Finally, the dish was ready, and Ned, having dumped the shells on the wide burdock leaves he had laid down – so that they would cool faster – began to tear apart the valves of the coveted amrias. That was the name of these shells, in which pearls were sometimes found.
Ned once found a huge pearl in a shell, the size of his fingernail. The owner noticed him examining it in the yard, took it from the boy, and asked him for a long time where he got the precious pink drop, the size of a fingernail, but... Ned said that he found it on the shore near the village. After that, they left him alone, and he no longer dragged the pearls he found home, putting them in a rag and burying them next to the cauldron.
Now he did not find a single pearl, which did not offend him at all. His belly was full of hearty, hot meat. And all that was left was to wash down what he had eaten, so that the dinner would be a complete success. To do this, you need to wash the cauldron, fill it with water, and throw in some fragrant grass from the slope of the ravine. The bitter decoction quenched thirst perfectly. A little honey would go with it... or sugar. but sweets rarely fell to Ned, and after Silan's death he forgot what sugar was. Or maybe that's why he had magnificent white teeth, which seemed capable of biting through a steel knife? All those women who saw his smile secretly envied his magnificent teeth. However, he rarely smiled. Life is not for smiling, giggling and laughing, like the children of the free.
"Hey, you seem full, right?" he gently pushed the "smiling" Narda, who rushed to the pile of open shells he had prepared and greedily began to devour the pulp, looking slyly at her friend. Her teeth crunched the shells with a crackling sound, gnawing out the sweet flesh.
Ned patted her on the withers, stood up, and went back to the stream. He lowered the cauldron into the clear water and watched for a while as muddy stripes stretched from it, wriggling over the sandy bottom. Some insect appeared from the sand, quickly burrowed back, and peace and quiet reigned again. Flies buzzed, a huge dung beetle flew by with a roar - spring, everything is blooming. The rainy season is gone, with its puddles, mud and dampness. At such a time you want to live, even if you are a miserable foundling, unwanted and persecuted by no one.
Ned sighed and rubbed the cauldron with sand scooped from the bottom. If you don't clean it properly, the broth will smell of the sea and meat, so you need to scrub until it shines. His hands - large, with swollen veins and long, strong fingers - carefully rub the precious object, always shining in the sun, like new.
Ned admired it – he adjusted it well, tapped the bottom and sides with a smooth cobblestone. Smooth, round, like… like… a hat! There. Like a hat. I wonder how it would look on his head? Ned grabbed his long hair, which he usually cut with a kitchen knife, pushed it back, and carefully placed the pot on his head. He tapped it with his finger, hearing a deep ringing sound, and proudly straightened up:
- I am the captain of the Ards! Be afraid, scoundrels!
The sun, coming out from behind a cloud, brightly illuminated the guy in the shiny pot, and suddenly this pot shimmered, made a piercing sound, as if the string of an iron had snapped, and Ned screamed… and lost consciousness.
How long he lay on the shore is unknown. He came to from the feeling of something wet and cold, stubbornly poking his eye, nose, lips. Ned waved his hand and landed in something soft, warm, furry...
- Narda... oh, what's wrong with me... brrr... now stop, stop drooling! Yes - you love me, you love me, I know! - Ned grinned, stood up and gently stroked the dog's head. She looked devotedly into his eyes and said:
- Love... master... good! Good! Drink! Drink!
Narda stepped aside and began to noisily lap up the water, and Ned looked at her in surprise:
- What are you doing? Are you talking or something? How is that?
Narda looked back, waved her tail twice and ran busily along the stream, saying:
- Search! Rat! Play, eat. Master, love!
Ned watched the dog go, puzzled, and knelt down, picking up his yellow shiny pot. He looked at its sides, covered with a fine, fine mesh of scratches left by the sand with which Ned had cleaned the pot, as he had for the first time, and he picked it up and put it back on his head, holding his breath. And… nothing happened.
After standing there for a while, Ned took the cauldron down and carried it under the oak tree to bury it. He no longer wanted to drink the brew, so he had to limit himself to ice-cold water from the stream. However, the fire had long since gone out, leaving behind barely warm gray coals. Ned was surprised again - how long had he been lying there if the fire he had left merrily crackling with branches had long gone out? He looked at the sun, and with a sinking heart discovered that it was already declining towards evening. He quickly buried the cauldron in the sand, jumped up, and with a heavy heart rushed to look for the herd. If even one cow disappeared - he would be beaten! Ned rushed up the slope of the ravine, and jumping out on a hillock, he was relieved to find the herd, calmly lounging on a green lawn. He began to count the cows, and everything came together - one hundred and fifty-three cows and a bull. Ned picked up a stick and went to the herd, feeling sincere gratitude to Narda - if it weren't for her, the obstinate cows would have definitely run away, especially the headman's two heifers and the blacksmith's cow, distinguished by a particularly nasty, malicious nature. Approaching the bull, Ned shouted:
- Get up! Home! Lead me home!
The bull looked at him stupidly with its bulging eyes and said:
- Get up. No desire. A man with a stick. Displeasure. I want a female. I want a female.
- Everyone wants to! - Ned said completely without realizing his words, and suddenly giggled - it all looked so funny. He's talking to a bull! If you tell anyone, they'll laugh! Who would he tell? Silan is gone, he's in the ground. And he doesn't communicate with anyone else. Only if it's business...
- Get up, oaf! – Ned shouted and imagined how he would hit the bull with a stick. He didn't hit him, but a bright picture flashed in his mind, as if he said to the bull – if you don't get up now, this is what will happen to you! The bull roared dully, jumped to his feet, and shaking his head, said:
– I don't want pain. I don't like people. A man with a stick – pain. To put on the horns!
– I'll put on you now, you horned beast! – Ned was indignant – you'll get gratitude from you, your stupid mug! Go home! Home! You'll eat and drink (picture of bran being poured into warm water).
The bull mooed and wandered toward the house, roaring long and loudly. The cows quietly followed him, driven by the barking of the omnipresent Narda.
– Aha! - Ned laughed joyfully - you like bran, you beast! How did you hear me, huh? What a miracle, so miracle... I wish I could tell Silan... ehhhh...
Throwing aside unnecessary thoughts, Ned drove the herd to the village - by the time they got there, it would already be evening. We need to hurry.
Narda, as if hearing his thoughts, rushed forward and began to busily bite the cows' legs, urging them on, accelerating their movement. The herd sped up and, grabbing grass on the go, headed towards the house.