Struggle: The Path to Power - Владимир Андерсон

doing himself were creeping into his consciousness. Here he is about to turn around; he, Ivan Tikhomirov, is the one on whom all hopes for the future are now resting, and he must not make a single mistake. Not the slightest. He is a Slav, with blond straight hair and a neat good face. His right klk doesn't stick out, like all the chums. His eyes are not yellow or violet, but gray and calm because he did not have to break the bones of others and cut with blunt knives slowly and endlessly just to learn something that will help to do the same with others, or just out of pleasure.

Vanya saw all this when he turned around, just a little, half a turn, so that the man wouldn't recognize him.

"Did you say something?" — Shinhr asked in Russian, continuing to breathe quieter than anyone else walking down this corridor.

"You're not Tamerlan. — a certain inner 'animal' voice tried to break through. — You can't go on like

this."

"Tamerlane walked under the same blue sky that I walk under," the miner answered him and said aloud: "You know how this is going to end. And we know, too. They've got you under their thumb." So many incomprehensible things were said that the plague could not decide what to ask first. — Don't you see that? — Vanya whispered.

— What's that?

— That they don't need you… You're nothing to them. They'll execute you.

— Executed? — Shinhr looked away and shuddered slightly — it was a hit.

— Yeah. Join us. We can help you.

— Your place? What are you–

— Don't look at me. Appearances are deceptive. You are still young, you have not seen much… I speak in the name of the Church… in the name of the Holy Inquisition….

Hearing that, something slammed into his eyes; the Inquisition turned out to be something they fear more than execution. And what they fear so much that they are willing to hide from it even behind a human. — I don't quite understand…

— You see, you must understand.

— Why do you need me?

After this phrase a bad feeling came off Vanya, and he almost shuddered at it — the man believed in his involvement with the church, or at least thought it possible.

— It's penance week here in a few months. We need informants.

— Am I supposed to point to others? Я…

— You! You'll get away with it. And you don't have to point fingers at anyone.

— I…

— You! You have to do something else. If you won't do it for yourself, do it for the Holy Church. For the holy Inquisition. And you will escape the punishment of the Black Stone. It is written in the Silan-zhah. This is it. It's what the Inquisitors of the Middle Ages used, not much different from the plague. Scaring people into the unknown. Uneducated and uneducated people. Because it's written, it's said, and by whom? The inquisitors themselves. In the end it turned out that "you must help us, because we said so…".

And it worked. It worked.

— I'll have to think about it.

— To think… An impermissible luxury for someone who is still young.

— I don't…

— Thinking is the same as saying you doubt the holy church. Do you doubt the holy church, Shinhur?

— No. Of course not. Я…

— If not, we'll talk tomorrow about what you can do for us.

The next day, Shinhr didn't think to hesitate. "If he hesitates, kill him," the prefect had indicated as early as morning. There was no need to kill. "If it's all right, tell him we need to test him to see if he's fit to work with us. We don't like talkative ones. Dumb ones, too. You know how to do it." And Tikhomirov knew.

They had to speak in the warehouse where Raphael had died not so long ago. There was no trace of him: only the smell. The smell of sticky human blood and a loving heart that no longer beat. Vanya felt something that made his own heart beat strangely: not painfully, but as if it were being pushed out of his body, as if there was no room for it inside.

— We need proof of your faith.

Shinhr nodded.

— You're gonna have to get us some information. From the archives. If it matches what we have, that's

fine.

— And if I don't?

— It's better that it corresponds… It's better for you… Right. Now get us two documents: first, a list of the current group leaders. It's a pretty thick little book, but it's about half full right now. There are brief biographies, characteristics and something else (Tikhomirov knew this from Dmitry). The second one is from the chiefs of transportation. The section "Dnepropetrovsk — Donetsk — Rostov-on-Don. Full plan with transcripts. You'll have a week for all this.

Raphael's spirit was hovering very close now. He is restless and tense and pressing everything around him. And his strong purposeful eyes are looking at every plague.

Shinhr nodded his head respectfully, realizing his hopelessness.

"Glory to the great church," he whispered.

Bolotnikov — Zhivenko

Bushenki. Reshetilovka. Poltava.

Khmelnitsky's group made it. Three days later Bolotnikov's battalion also reached. Report To the Commander-in-Chief from Major Bolotnikov.

"I find it necessary to personally report the violation of the Commander-in-Chief's order.

You gave an instruction to cover the withdrawal of the main forces from the Kremenchug area and to hold this position until 09:00.

I, due to circumstances, was ordered to abandon these positions 15 minutes before the deadline. Ready to be held accountable in accordance with the current Free Earth Officer's Charter." Major Sergei Bolotnikov.

When Khmelnitsky read "this," his face turned white and something disproportionately heavy settled on his shoulders. He had never been in such a situation before.

Bolotnikov was summoned immediately.

"Major, what's this?" — a powerful Ukrainian finger poked at the unwanted document.

— Report, Comrade Commander-in-Chief."

— Do you know how many people have seen this?