- I can probably fend off a few of your blows. My sword is on the ground, too, — said the old bandit.

The other bandits admitted that they had armed themselves for a reason.

- Well, — I went around to all the prisoners. I offer you a job. You escort this caravan, and this man, Hagar, pays you a reward.

- But I didn’t count on so many men, I’ll lose all the profit.

- You won’t have to pay much. You will divide among them the reward that is meant for me.

Hagar’s eyebrows rose in surprise. He had not expected to get seven strong men instead of one guard and his reward. The bandits were surprised, too. They had prepared for the worst fate, and instead of dying, they were offered paid work.

- I know how to shoot a bow, — Sylvan spoke for the first time. He spoke with a hoarseness as if his larynx had been damaged by something. Sylvanus had watched the members of his gang being freed, and he, too, longed for freedom.

- Where’s your bow? I don’t see it.

- My bowstring broke. I don’t have many arrows left. I thought I’d have plenty once we had the caravan. Will you untie me?

- No. You are not to be trusted.

- I’m better with a sword than any of my men. I know how to shoot a bow, — Sylvan was angry and twitchy. The thought of the members of his gang moving freely while he was tied up made him furious.

- You organized the attack on the old merchant and this caravan and you must be punished.

- You don’t know everything, — Sylvan tried to justify himself. - An old merchant is not a merchant.

I understood that the ringleader was trying to justify himself. So he could say whatever he wanted. Meanwhile, the coachmen had taken their usual places. The bandits, who had changed their status to guards, picked up their weapons - swords, and clubs - and dispersed along the caravan. If they had decided to run away, no one would have chased them. Recognizing themselves in their new role, they got acquainted with the tuftons drivers and inquired about the route. Sylvan was put in the penultimate wagon. Jurion and I were the last to move. The centaur looked at the prisoner from his height and occasionally bared his large teeth.

Sylvan looked at my wagon with particular interest, his eyes wide with surprise and bewilderment.

- Hey. - he turned to me. - Come here, I have something to tell you.

- Go ahead, I’m listening.

- I don’t want everyone to know about this.

Letting Jurion move on his own, I approached Sylvan. The leader of the forest brigands certainly looked imposing and charismatic. A sturdy man in his forties, he was the epitome of strength and confidence. A small beard and mustache gave his face a certain mysterious charm, and the disheveled hair on his head gave the impression of a wild, but at the same time attractive appearance.

However, underneath this outward roughness was a man with a shrewd and sharp mind. Sylvan was the leader of the gang for a reason, because he had a unique gift of intelligence, which allowed him to make quick decisions. He determined the targets, time, and place of an attack.

On his right arm was the arrow wound I had inflicted on him during the first meeting. This wound, bandaged with a rag, was a reminder that luck did not always accompany brigands.

We exchanged surly glances. I looked at the man who had suffered defeat twice already due to my skillful actions. Sylvan, for his part, wondered how the boy could have surpassed him.

I saw a swollen bump on the bandit’s head, the mark of my blow. If he had stayed home, he wouldn't have been hit on the head!

- I see you’ve adapted the old man’s wagon for your use.

- What grief is that to you?

- Did the old man give it to you himself?

I felt an unpleasant chill creep into my soul. After our lightning skirmish, the bandits had fled the battlefield and the old man was still alive.The wagon belonged to an old merchant and I now have to explain to the brigand how it came to be in my possession.

Seeing my confusion Sylvan continued:

- The old man was a well-known sorcerer in the area, he would never part with a self-propelled wagon. Didn’t you know that the wagon could drive itself? The old man charged it with some magical power and rode it without any horse. Very convenient, no need to feed it, no need to worry about it being eaten by beasts of prey. So where did the master go?

- He died, — I didn’t dare to lie. - A heart attack.

The bandit did not understand the meaning of the word “heart attack”. What could a sorcerer die of? From a strong magic spell, from the use of an improperly prepared potion. And I pondered that when I searched the carriage, nothing was indicating the sorcery activity of the master. Perhaps I didn't search attentively enough. I pretended not to be upset by this news.

- If you let me go free, I won't tell anyone that you killed the sorcerer, and then the wrath of his followers will fall on other people.

- You can't tell anyone because you're my prisoner. And if you open your mouth, I'll shut it right back up! - After yelling at the bandit, I calmed down a bit. Although it was an unpleasant situation.

Sylvan’s brothers are on the loose. If the sorcerer's followers recognize the wagon - I'm going to have to make some pretty big excuses. However, what followers he might have? The old man couldn’t protect himself, couldn’t heal. I don’t think he intended to die from a sudden blow. He saw Lyon coming back and must have been reciting a speech of thanks in his mind. With a knife in your heart, thanking isn’t very comfortable.

I sat on the bench, waiting for when Sylvan turned away or leaned back. I couldn't wait to search the wagon, but more thoroughly this time. I did not know what I might find there. A dozen vials of potions unknown to me and. Some scrolls, with spells scrawled on them.

Sylvan stared in my direction without taking his eyes off me. It could have gone on like this. I decided not to engage in a battle of glances and turned my back to the forest bandit. To my surprise, I found that I could examine the contents of the wagon while avoiding other people's gazes.

- Touche,- I called to my little friend. - There's probably a secret vault here in the wagon. Can you find it?

Fluffy didn't have to be asked twice. He began to dig through the dry grass and open the bottom of the wagon. Dry stalks flew in different directions, my pet sneezed but kept digging.

Digging to the very bottom he jabbed at a wooden door. I inserted the tip of my sword into the gap and pulled it open. Sylvan was right when he said the old man was no ordinary merchant. I saw the secret vault where the old man hid his sorcerous items. A few vials of a potion unknown to me. I did not take out the bottles, figuring not to take the liquid until I knew the property of the potions prepared by the sorcerer. Either Nyx or Oceania would have to help me with that. I found several kinds of ointments, again without a prescription or accompanying inscription. Something like: Beware! Poison! Or, Do not drink! Guaranteed to turn you into a goat!

A sharp knife with a steel blade caught my eye. I should note that during my stay in Orkvalia, items made of quality steel were rare. Most likely, the people living in this world had not yet learned how to brew quality steel. Items made of iron were soft and rusted quickly. The knife I found in the sorcerer’s vault was of perfect form and quality.

It was shaped like a dirk, the Scottish national knife. Perhaps a visitor from Scotland had come to this country and left this knife as a memento.

The blade was clean, with no traces of blood. So it was not a ritual knife, but for other purposes.

In addition to the knife, there was a flat gold box, like a cigarette case. In it or it lay a strange medallion with an unusual pattern of several spirals superimposed one on top of the other. Inside each spiral moved small, no bigger than a match head, balls. Blue, red, green. I tried to hold one of the balls with my finger and saw my surroundings change. I was sitting on a bench, and in front of me, Fluffy was rummaging in the bedding. Then the picture in front of my eyes changed again. I had a feeling that I had a very valuable thing in my hands. I examined it more carefully. There were no inscriptions, no numbers or letters. Just a beautiful locket.

Again I mentally turned to Nix. He should explain what it was. Maybe he’s seen one before. If he doesn’t know, maybe Oceania has some information.

The old man must have been considered wealthy, a separate leather purse held many coins of various denominations. Large, medium, small, and very small. I had yet to find out how rich I was. How much does Hagar value my service? How much is one tafton worth? And why are the coins copper and not gold? Gold, as far as I know, is the most valuable metal in the world.

Well, that’s about it. There’s nothing more to see. I didn’t take things out of the secret drawer, they’ll be better preserved in this place. It would be very good if, among the sorcerer’s things, there was an artifact that shortened the distance from one point to another.

The Tufton walked slowly forward, following Hagar’s wagon. The merchant was the only person who knew how to lead us out of this vast forest.

At times it seemed as if we were walking through uninhabited, uninhabited terrain. Not a single sound indicated the presence of people or human habitation. The flat terrain changed to rocky terrain, and we could see rocky masses growing out of the ground. The bandits could not tell me where we were going, they had lived in their little world for a long time and had never been to the city.

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They didn't know what kind of place the Pyronax dragon family might live in.

Sylvan was silent to my questions about the structure of the world. He wore a contemptuous grimace on his face and only opened his mouth when he was thirsty or wanted to go to the bathroom.

The merchant stood up on the wagon and raised his hand, signaling a full stop. By some elusive sign he recognized last year's stop, he ordered the animals fed and watered. The water source was visible, the well water was clean and tasty. I drank with pleasure.

The drovers arranged the wagons in a crescent and let the animals graze. Jurion flared his nostrils in anticipation of supper. The smell of boiled meat tantalized the sense of smell of all hungry people. Fluffy found satisfaction in the breadcrumbs in my bag. Toward midnight, rain poured down on us. Large drops flooded the cooling fire, we hid wherever we could.

Fluffy and I crawled under the wagon. Jurion stood in the rain, his powerful arms crossed over his powerful chest. Fluffy touched the amulet hanging around my neck. Feeling the touch with a small paw, I too took hold of the amulet and thought it would be a good idea to scout the neighborhood.

Someone could explain to me how it worked. Maybe I should look for a description of people who’d survived clinical death. Only I didn’t see a tunnel or a light calling to me. There was my motionless body, my dull gaze scrutinizing Tush. No one on the outside could tell that at that moment, I was without a soul. Or maybe it wasn’t a soul that was going to fly, but my phantom?

My consciousness seemed to separate from my body like a thin vapor rising into the air. I felt my soul being freed from the bonds of sensations and at ease, like a bird being released from its cage. Nothing was holding me back or restricting me. A ghost flying above my unconsolidated body.

I started my flight from the cliffs and soon found two decent caves. We could have taken shelter in them if we had known ahead of time. At the well several deer were drinking water, and a fat badger was waiting his turn. The men, hidden from the rain, were settling down to sleep. Only two men, Sylvan, and the old outlaw, were preparing to escape. They seemed to discuss my person.

- I can come from the other side and then you can hit him on the head, — the old bandit suggested the tactic he had devised. - I’ll call out to him, get his attention. Watch out for the horse-man. He is strong and very sensitive. He should be the first to be killed. Your brothers are not far from here and are waiting for the signal...

I didn’t listen to the plan of attack, it was already clear to me. When I returned to my body, I almost ran to the wagon, under which the conspirators were hiding. Remembering my experience in shrinking my own body, I wanted to turn all the bandits into mantises. But it costs nothing to change one spell for another. Instead of the spell - Mantis! - I shouted another:

- Homunculus!

A silvery substance erupted from my hand towards the bandits, and they simultaneously fell to the ground. Silvan’s brothers rushed at me, surrounding me from both sides. I instantly jumped on the wagon and aimed my hand first at the ones on the left, because they were the closest:

- Homunculus!

The brothers, like the old bandit with Sylvan, were toppled on their backs by the spell. The remaining bandits, realizing that the surprise attack had failed, decided to flee. They realized it too late and ran very slowly.

I walked on the wet ground and surveyed the battlefield. Six bodies, reduced to a minimal size. Standing at full height, Sylvan’s older brother barely reached my knee with his head. As their height shrank, their voices changed as well. Now they squeaked like hungry chicks. They surrounded me and begged for forgiveness:

- Kill us!

- We don’t want to live like this!

I called Jurion, put the brigands in one sack, and asked the centaur to take the diminished brotherhood away from our lodging and there somewhere to let them go free without harming them. I kept silent about the fact that they wanted to kill him. Let that silence remain on my conscience.

With that, I went to bed with peace of mind.

It rained all night. In the morning the clouds thinned a little so that they could gather new strength and continue to irrigate the land. We had to move into the caves, dry and spacious. People had once stayed here. We found traces of a fire, dry bones, and charcoal drawings on the wall.

The merchant, as soon as we got into the cave, started asking how I knew about this hideout.

- I have stayed in these places several times and never thought that there was a safe and comfortable shelter nearby.

- I have a little friend and helper, — I nodded toward Tush. - He is the one who found this cave. I think that his efforts are worth an extra reward in the form of porridge.

Fluffy, having eaten his “bonus,” was stroking his belly. I caught him by his little hand and demanded,

- It’s raining outside, there’s nothing to do. Tell me about yourself. You are my friend and companion, and I know nothing about you.

My companion sighed and settled on my chest, letting me in on his heavy memories. Imagine a teddy bear or Maltese bologna puppy that looks like a little fluffy cloud that fell from the sky right into my arms. His brown fur was so soft, it felt like holding a big lump of cotton in your hands. His little nose was soft pink, and his huge eyes always sparkled with joy and curiosity, like two diamond stars in the night sky.

When we met, his little paws always seemed so clumsy that I wanted to smile in amusement. I wanted to hug him and never let him go. And now, this little funny furry creature sits on my chest and tells his story. His eyes filled with sadness, the diamonds lost their former luster.His thin voice was something like the babble of a two-year-old child, but his speech corresponded to an adult:

- We call ourselves the Ursi tribe - the bear cubs. We live in tall trees, in houses. Built by our paws. You may laugh, but I built my cabin when I was about to start a family. My beloved Mina was exquisite. She loved the sweet berries that grew on the rocky cliff. We are small and fragile creatures, and despite our tenacity, we often fall. None of the Ursi who liked Mina dared to climb up to get the berries growing on the cliff. Bright red and round, they looked like beads hung for beauty. I came up with a little trick that allowed me to beat all the rivals for Mina’s heart. I wove an ordinary rope that could hold more than one Ursi. No one saw me tie the rope, and I went down to the berries and picked the biggest and sweetest ones. Mina expressed delight. She wanted to know how I had got the berries. We climbed to the top of the steep. I showed her the rope, explained how I tied myself, and made the descent. A big bird flew over us, Mina got scared, couldn't stand it, and fell. She crashed to death. Everyone held me responsible for her death. I was the one who led my girl to the dangerous cliff. With no prison in our tribe, we do not use the death penalty, but exile is no less severe....

I reached out and pressed the little fuzzball against my chest, feeling my heart break with pain. If I were a woman, hearing such a story would make me cry. A feeling of regret for the broken life of the little animal filled my heart. A lump came to my throat. The little body lay on my chest, shuddering with sobs.

It took us both a while to recover from the emotional turmoil. I was still reluctant to let the little pet go for a long time until he said,

- If you don’t let me go now, I’ll poop right on top of you.

When he came back, despite the heaviness in my heart, I asked him.

- You say you build houses in tall trees. What about the fear of falling? You could fall at any moment.

- We live in a tribe and can talk to many creatures. Our tribe, like any other tribe, has pet arachnids. They weave a web so strong and flexible that it can support the weight of a large man. Like you. Oh, no. The spider thread won't be able to hold you. You’re fat!

I wanted to catch the little rascal, who, despite his tiny size, was elusive and moved quickly. After running around to our hearts' content, we lay down on the grass. The charioteers and guards looked at us with a kind of disapproval.

- Can I ask you a few more questions? - I asked Tush.

Fluffy waved a small hand, a gesture that meant,

- Interrogate me while I’m in the mood.

“I’ve heard that sometimes you leave what you’ve gained and go off to unknown parts. Is that true?

- You can’t argue with rumors. Look at me, aren’t I the proof of the rumors?

- You said you were banished!

- How can you live in a tribe where you’re ignored? They don’t talk to you, they don’t help you. You become transparent. You can continue to live in your house. No one will invite you to the party, and if you show up uninvited, you'll just be shunned. It’s easier to go somewhere else.

- You’re so fluffy. Your fur is perfect. How do you groom yourself? I’ve just never seen you lick yourself.

- Ew, — the fluffy one grimaced. - Do I look like a pervert to lick myself? Look, — he pulled out a small golden comb from behind his back.

- I have several of these, and when you’re doing your business, I tidy myself up.

- What business are you referring to? - I sensed a catch in Tush’s words.

- You were swimming naked in a stream and smoothing someone's fur," said the furry prankster and got ready to run. - I've seen it all!