„Good friend, how things are going on? Do you also miss old times?”

  A warm palm touched Black Sunshine’s back and this made the poor horse wince and look to the right wherefrom the intruder has approached him. Then, slowly moving its tail from one side to the other, as if defending itself from flies, even if there couldn’t be seen at least one, the horse continued its meal, silently chewing the fresh hay put in the rack by Stan, who was actually the one moving his hand up and down the old horse’s back, whose skin was slightly shaking, moved by an inner call, for even if that horse hasn’t been caressed that much in its life, it also knew well what earthly pleasures mean and especially how it feels the warm palm of a friend caressing your skin and making it slowly shake, something that it’s warming inside.

  But, as was its habit, Raven neighed from the next stable, showing its innocent jealousy, for even if it was younger, it was also pretty spoiled. That’s why it was showing its character each time it had the possibility. More after Bardain’s missing when they have been left by themselves.

  Well, not that alone actually, for Stan took care of them the same or even better than Bardain had taken care of his speechless friends because Stan was that kind of guy who loved a lot the helpless beings, especially those speechless, and he could stay for hours next to them, saying to them about his dreams and plans, listening to what they were saying in their weird language. And when he was melancholic, and lately this with feeling melancholy was something common, he was caressing for long the back of the horses he had to take care of, for only this way he could comfort himself and chase the longing from his soul away: the longing for two mouse eyes and a piece of fluffy fur, abundantly bathed in pitch.

  „Nobody ever told you that caressing the animals too much you are spoiling them and they won’t listen to your demand later?” Stan heard Colby’s voice and winced, and when he looked at the entrance to the stable, he saw him standing next to the door and playing with a small blade of hay that he was chewing between his teeth.

  Stan said nothing, even if he was so eager to punch him at least twice and to take thus revenge for what happened to Bardain, for since the day he met the old teamster at Shelby Storm’s castle, the boy got to blame Colby for those events, even if he was aware that that man was only a servant, and good servants were always listening to their master’s orders.

  Yet, as the boy thought, the orders were for being fulfilled, but if they weren’t right… those orders, then being a human one could ignore them, for… that’s why manhood has been invented on this earth, right?! But… the boy also understood that life sometimes is different than one wants it to be and, to survive, one must do things that he never considered himself able to do. And the boy knew such things for he lived a weird life, a different life, and somehow toothy, a life that had always attacked him and from all sides actually as if that life has been a pack of mad and hungry dogs which were always attacking innocent souls, scaring them to hell and forcing them to hide even in a mouse hole, only to survive.

  That’s why he kept silent when Colby talked to him entering the stable: he remembered about the difficulties which life put in front of him, especially about losing dear friends, for it always happened when Stan formed an attachment to someone - something weird was happening, something quick, something that was leaving him alone again and kneeled, angry with that life and its unfair laws. And… swallowing hard not to allow himself to cry after he had remembered though moments, and also not to blame Colby for everything, the boy grabbed two carrots brought there into a pot, carrots that were meant to spoil those two horses even more and to make them forget about their loss because Stan believed that namely those poor animals were suffering more with Bardain’s missing. Then Stan approached Raven first and gave him to chew the carrot he was holding in his right hand.

  But he right away felt how somebody grabbed the carrot he had in his left hand and, even if he felt Colby’s footsteps approaching him, he thought that it was Black Sunshine which was trying to steal from him the sweet reddish vegetable. But… surprise… the one who told him not to spoil the horses got to feed Black Sunshine with something sweet, something that the horse chewed right away, feeling a great pleasure doing this.

  Suddenly Colby smiled, making Stan funnily stare at him. But… Colby’s smile wasn’t random, but from heart, for, feeling the wet and warm lips of the old stud gently touching his calloused, grizzled hands, he remembered about his childhood when his unique pleasure was to stay next to a speechless friend that was looking like that old horse, which was filling him with love and showing his limitless devotion.

  „You know, Stan, I’ve been like you in the past,” Colby suddenly said, without watching the boy, who kept staring at him. „I also thought that life is fair with you when you are fair with others.”

  „Yet… I don’t remember to have said such words,” the boy mumbled, caressing Raven’s mane and trying to make it understand that the spoil for that day was over and that he should chew only hay till the next day.

  „There’s no need for words to understand that. I can see it reflected in your eyes, for… even if you aren’t aware of this, your eyes are like an open book,” and Colby smiled again, finally looking at the boy. But the boy noticed that the man’s eyes, which were mostly empty and cold, were somehow weirdly blinking at that moment, in a way the boy had never seen before. That’s why he became curious and carefully looked at the man who was standing next to him, who grabbed the fork and started to gather the hay thrown by Black Sunshine on the floor, scattering it around it, hay that was still good to chew and not to trample under feet. That’s why Colby, after gathering that hay, put it back into the rack.

  Stan kept silent for a while as if he has immersed himself in thoughts after hearing Colby’s words. But yet the boy wasn’t thinking about anything in particular at that moment and he was also thinking about everything at the same time. Then, as he had felt a big burden pressing his shoulders, Stan sat down on the log that was in the stable, on which Bardain used to rest, and, taking the cap off his head, he caressed his disheveled and sweaty hair.

  Meanwhile, Colby finished gathering the hay. Then, supporting himself on the fork’s grasp, he kindly looked at the boy, with the eyes of a brother, for he had never been a father and he also didn’t believe that he was good at giving fatherlike advice. Yet, he had come in that stable moved by a strange inner impulse, for when Stan attacked him in the yard and yelled at him that Bardain disappeared because of him, he suddenly felt guilty, even if it wasn’t something usual for him. „Yet, boy, it’s not my fault that Bardain vanished somewhere eventually.”

  „Then… who’s guilty of this?” the boy said ironically, staring at him from the corner of his eyes.

  „We must find out this. I… actually neither me nor Count Storm has a benefit with his disappearance.”

  „Yet, you followed him that day. I saw you leaving, shortly after Bardain went.”

  „And I won’t deny this. Yet: I lost his traces eventually. In front of the blacksmith, the one located on the outskirts of London. After that… only God knows where did he go.”

  Stan smiled somehow unconfidently. Colby instead kept saying: „if you want to believe me or not is your choice already. I just say the things how they are. Even if it isn’t something that I usually do and… even if I’m not totally aware of why did I come till here to tell you such things when you aren’t neither my friend nor my brother or son.”

  „And thanks God for this,” said the boy, feisty. „With such a relative or friend… better alone in this life.”

  „Why so?” said Colby laughing.

  „Because… I’m not that sure, but… you seem to be someone that doesn’t inspire trust.”

  „That’s good then,” said Colby calmly, taking that hay out of his mouth and throwing it on the floor.

  Stan instead carefully looked at him, for he had never expected to hear such an answer from Colby, for… usually when people hear that they are unreliable, they start to justify themselves or accuse others that they don’t know looking into people’s souls. Colby instead said clearly and shortly that it was good that he was unreliable and this was something that amazed the boy a lot.

  Seeing the confusion on the boy’s face, Colby sketched a smile, making that deep scar on his cheek vanish for a few seconds, hidden by the expression wrinkles, and this made him somehow attractive, for he wasn’t an ugly duck actually. Life was what made him show his fangs and, to succeed in many of his plans, it was good for him for being someone to fear, even if he wished a lot to have a soul friend with whom to communicate, at least from time to time.

  „Yet, why do you think that’s better be unreliable?” and Stan’s question made Colby wince as if awakening from his daydream.

  Then, after he had left the fork where he found it, supported on the wall by Stan, Colby took a few steps till he get in front of the boy where he actually stopped, mirroring his dark-brown eyes into the black ones of the boy: „because being reliable often doesn’t help you in anything. Per contra: being reliable means to be considered a fool.”

  „And… did you meet many of those who considered you a fool in this life?” Stan asked calmly, even if that question was meant to have a deep bite of Colby’s soul, in revenge.

  The man smiled instead and it was actually the first time he smiled so much as it was the first time when he got to see good qualities in a person that easily even if till that moment he always said that there aren’t people to make you trust them right away: „you’ll always find such people, boy. As I think that you also aren’t an exception. Or maybe… I’m wrong… sometimes.”

  „In what?” insisted Stan.

  „In trusting people. Yet… there have been so many that stabbed me behind my back. That’s why is hard for me to trust.”

  „Yet… I feel that there’s something else hidden behind that mistrust,” said Stan in a half a voice, something that amazed Colby a lot, for he hadn’t expected that a 17 years old boy will be so mature. That’s why he said: „that’s right. There’s a story behind all this. But…”

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  „You’ll say it when you’ll trust people at least a little bit.”

  „Right. Yet: I came here for something else.”

  „Really? What for?” asked Stan, somehow suspicious.

  „To find out where Bardain Jones went after he had left the castle. Not the other, but… if we find out where he went, we can find him soon.”

  And even if his words have been clear, told without evil meaning or with a hidden purpose, they didn’t manage to deceive Stan, who saw a lot in his short life and lived a lot of weird events that hardened his soul, teaching him to understand the hidden meaning of words. That’s why he stood up and, taking a few steps toward Colby, he stopped right in front of him, staring into his eyes. After that, he told him clearly and shortly: „listen to me carefully, Colby or whatever it’s your name - maybe you thought that I’m a fool who you’ll easily make talk for also being young, but you have been so wrong, for… neither I’m stupid nor I’ll talk. At least not with you. If you want to find out something from me, then you should convince Mister Brian first and if he asks me to talk only then I’ll do it. Otherwise, you won’t listen to a „pss” from me, not even dead I’ll say it.”

  „Don’t you think that you’re exaggerating in such speech?” said Colby calmly, who thought that he managed to make the boy trust him.

  „At all, for… Bardain has been like a father for me, and a father is a saint for me, and what he did or does isn’t something to be known by somebody like you.”

  „Not even if this means to endanger him?”

  „A greater danger than you and that count Shark might be?”

  Colby winced, hearing the boy talking like that, and that meant that that boy wasn’t as simple as he thought he was. Yet: to ask him where from he heard or knew that name, he considered it as being risky. That’s why he kept staring at Stan, thinking that the boy will say something more about that.

  Stan instead, understanding that had talked too much, took a step back and after he had put the cap on his head, he hissed through his teeth to Colby: „and now, get lost from here, until I’ll grab that fork to chase you away. And… to continue what I started in the yard, it won’t be difficult. But… as I have some respect for Mister Brian, who I understand that lives these moments hard, especially after Bardain’s departure, I’ll keep myself calm. That’s why I say to you just to move away. Otherwise, I’ll forget about respect and other things and I’ll grab that fork’s grasp, and… even if I’m small, I still can handle that fork well.”

  Pleasantly surprised by the boy’s daring, Colby smiled and raised his hands, a hint that he gives up. But it was only a strategy, for he had understood that if the boy became aggressive it must be for something and that it was useless to beat him, for, even so, he wouldn’t have found anything from him. That’s why he decided to wait, for he was sure that Shelby and Brian will reach an agreement eventually, and then when the masters will trust each other again, then the servants will have the possibility to talk about such things later, and when the servants talk, half of the job is done. More… Colby was convinced about this, seeing a certain grimness on the boy’s face, something that he hadn’t seen for long reflected in someone’s glance, especially of someone as young as Stan was.

  But… Colby has been wrong, for Brian didn’t „fall” prey to Shelby’s words, even if they have been enough convincing, and, one hour later, Shelby and Colby left Stonebridge’s property without concrete results.

***

  Arrived at the castle, Colby quickly descended from the driving box and approached the carriage’s door to help Shelby to descend. But even if he suddenly opened that door, Shelby didn’t scold him as usual. Per contra, the count seemed immersed in thoughts, if not sad and melancholic. And how not to be like that when he left Stonebridge’s house, Brian told him that it’ll be better not to see each other anymore because after what happened with Bardain he couldn’t trust anymore the man who stabbed his back.

  „I’ve been a fool,” suddenly murmured Shelby, and Colby stared in amazement at him. Shelby instead only sketched a sad smile, seeing the amazement on his helper’s face. „I was talking about me,” the old man said and stretched his left arm, putting it around Colby’s neck, who took Shelby in his arms and headed toward the house.

  While heading toward the entrance, Colby dared to ask: „didn’t you manage to convince Mister Beneath?”

  „True,” said Shelby and sighed. „And it’s only my fault, for… I didn’t take into account that Brian isn’t Baron Beneath and that he also has his ego.”

  „He’ll soften maybe when he’ll understand the reasons why you’ve done what you’ve done.”

  „No, my boy. I don’t think he’ll do that, for Brian Beneath isn’t that kind of man, who after you have hurt him, you can win him back or regain his trust. And me, for hiding him so many things, I only stabbed his back as he said.”

  „It was your right, count. Others tried to kill you and it’s normal that you don’t trust those who you don’t know,” mumbled Colby while climbing the stairs, for the count asked for being taken to his room.

  Only after Colby left the old man on the bed and covered him well with the blanket, did Shelby stare at the fire that was vividly dancing in the stove and said barely heard: „maybe this is our mistake, Colby, for… we never trusted anybody. Neither you nor me. Maybe it’s time to trust. Aaa, what do you say?”

  Colby swallowed hard, for… at his forty, after a hard life when he has been betrayed for so many times and after so many moments when has been practically forced to stand up after being kneeled, facing life, it was damn difficult to start to trust people.

  Eventually, after the old man motioned him to leave, Shelby slowly bowed his head and hurried to leave the room, carefully closing the door behind him. Then he rushed to descend the stairs and exit the castle in the backyard, feeling that he was lacking air. And… that lack of air wasn’t at all random, for… he felt so well the biting of the top of the whip on his skin while images from his past, when he was closed into an underground dungeon, were passing in front of his eyes… images with two butchers mercilessly beating him while the young Colby was chained.

***

  „What do you say is that Colby tried to make you talk about Bardain’s location?” Brian asked Stan while it was already night and Stan met him in the living room. At that moment, Brian was standing in front of that big window that was leading toward the backyard.

  „Right, Mister Beneath. But I’m also not stupid: I smelled him right away, what he tried to do, and I sent him for a ride.”

  Brian smiled, hearing the boy talking like that. Then he slowly turned toward him and saw him standing in front of the door, with his legs stuck to each other, with his hands at his side while crumpling the cap in his hands and with his head slowly bowed: „Bardain taught him well how to act,” thought Brian, smiling. „And this boy isn’t stupid at all. He learns fast and… he’ll be as loyal as Bardain has been or maybe more. But… I feel that he’s also sad.”

  „And… what should we do, Mister Beneath?” asked Stan in a half a voice after he had swallowed hard, for even if it was already late, he didn't eat anything yet, and it was even harder with that sweet smell felt coming out of the kitchen.

  „At first, we’ll have dinner,” said Brian kindly. Then he motioned the boy to approach him, and this amazed Stan a lot, for… on one hand - he felt somehow strange to approach Brian, who he considered a model to follow, and on the other hand, he felt clumsy, thinking that his clothes were inappropriate, even if those clothes were new, bought by Bardain with the boy’s money, clothes Stan considered unworthy for staying in front of his master.

  What the boy didn’t know was that Brian didn’t really care about his clothes: for him, the people’s souls were much more important, and that young man, that was standing with his head bowed since he got in front of him, started to be someone who Brian appreciated at that moment. So, so suddenly that he made Stan withdraw a little bit, Brian ruffled the boy’s hair, and when Stan finally stopped crawling back, at a slow step and looked into Brian’s eyes, this one said: „I would like to be your friend, Stan, if possible.”

  „Friends? We?” asked Stan, staring at Brian with wide-open eyes. „But… how is this possible? A servant and a gentleman… friends? If Bardain hears this…”

  Brian smiled: „even if Bardain hears this, he won’t say anything, for I also treated him like a friend, even if he was older than me and he could have been my father. As I can be your father.”

  „But you aren’t,” said the boy so suddenly.

  „That’s why, as we don’t have the same blood flowing in our veins, I ask you to treat me not like an elder brother, but like a friend, one who you can tell something if you want or ask for a piece of good advice when you need, and I’d like to do the same in the future.”

  „But… Mister Brian, I’m not more than a stupid boy. How can I…?”

  Still resting his palm on Stan’s shoulder, Brian looked into the boy’s eyes and kindly said: „never say that you are stupid, Stan, for… if you believe this, then others will also think so about you. But if you think that you’re mature and wise, people will respect you, as it should be.”

  „Is that simple?” asked Stan confused.

  „It is,” answered Brian, putting the second palm on Stan's second shoulder. „And how not to be this easy when the human heart longs for so long for simplicity?! And now… take a sit at this table and have dinner with me.”

  Brian’s words amazed so much the two servants he brought into the house after Eva left, for even if he wanted to leave the house of the man he had hated once, yet, Brian still felt the necessity to stay there for a while more, even if he didn’t understand why of that desire.

  Yet, even if they found strange their master’s desire, the two women said nothing: they only exchanged glances, something that Stan noticed and felt so small and wanted to run away. But still, the boy stood there till they lay the table, and, at Brian’s order, they left them alone.

  The first sitting at the table has been Brian, who didn’t insist on Stan sitting down, understanding that maybe it was difficult for Stan to feel at home there. Yet, he kept watching the boy from the corner of his eyes while slowly chewing his meal. Thus, he saw Stan squinting at the food on the table, swallowing hard and squeezing the cap in his hands, rumpling it even more. Then, eventually, moved by his own desire to taste that tasty meal, Stan left the cap on the table and, shy, he sat down on one chair, to Brian’s right, where the servants put a plate for him.

  And… that table looked exactly like in his dreams, those dreams he had so long time ago while living in that dilapidated attic, with the wind tightly holding him in its arms, dreams that saved him from a sure death: dreams where he finally had a warm room only for him, with playful flames in the stove like those seen behind Brian and whose barely heard pop was filling the room with a warm sensation of pleasure. Then there was the steamy meal on the table and its pleasant smell and it was really weird, for he had never felt that smell before from close. Before that night, he had felt it only from far away, being in the street, in front of a local whose door was closed and opened all the time, but never by him. Now instead, with that divine smell felt only a few centimeters from his nose, the boy felt how the mouth of his sack of tears opened and those tears abundantly bathed his cheeks while he broke a piece of warm bread with a shaking hand, from which he bit, shyly. Then he chewed it slowly as if trying to feel its divine taste for long.

  And Brian felt the same: that the tears were taking over him. But this happened not because he felt the same as Stan, but because he finally understood that his pain couldn’t be compared yet with that one felt by so many other people that were crying only because they finally felt the smell of hot bread in their hand. That’s why he preferred to eat in silence, giving Stan the chance to finally feel the warmth of a home, something that he had dreamt about since being only a little child.