I guessed who had been chosen by the victim to be the mad Mardan, a malevolent offspring of robbers - surely he saw the slave talking to me, and the malice that fed me, was swept out on him. I wanted only one thing - to be mistaken. Or that the murderer does not run away...
He did not even think of running away. When I burst into the familiar corridor, Mardan stood surrounded by the crowd and quietly, with a mocking grin on his lips wiped the stained blade. At the stairs in the pool of blood lay a dead slave. The same magician in the blue turban, which he, becoming a slave, never took off, retaining dignity and honor...
Seeing me, Mardan exclaimed in frantic joy:
"Ah, that's our great scientist! Take a look at your boyfriend. That's the way to deal with traitors and enemies, you, a handful of dust, fallen from under your mother's skirt. So would you..."
In my eyes it turned dark. A wave of rage and despair rose up in me, such that it seemed that my head was about to burst. I do not know how I restrained myself and did not rush at the scoundrel at once-perhaps because I felt: once again, as in adolescence, I was captured by some unknown force. I knew that I could destroy this monster, that's just it possible? Is it permissible to interrupt the life given to Asha, even such a vile?
And suddenly I understood, felt - it is possible. A scoundrel and a madman killing for fun, was not worth living. Almost unaware of what I was doing, intoxicated by the consciousness of my own rightness, I directed the flow of force raging through me into my palm, and then outward, I extended my hand-and Mardan, taken aback by the general scream, soared up and twitched in the void. I do not know how, but I kept it.
"What, Mardan?" I could barely speak, panting with rage. "Would you like to know now what should be done with people like you, a miserable grave worm?"
"Lord Aranthier, stop!" - sounded a menacing voice - one of the mentors hurried to the place of the tragic incident.
But I was not able to stop. Inspired by anger and pain, I flung the killer to the wall. Mardan, crashing into it, fell to the stone floor and stayed there, unable to move.
"Lord Aranthir!" The voice of the teacher became terrible. "Immediately to me! Obey or be the next!"
Breathing heavily, realizing that now he was powerless, I stepped back, looked for the last time on the body lying on the stairs, on the subdued novices, turned sharply and went for the tutor.
The teacher stood with his back to me as if he did not want to look at me. He said without turning round:
"What have you done, Lord Aranthir?" How long have you used force against those to whom you harbor dislike?
"No, sir," I answered. "The only time…"
"I believe you, but this time you forgot and deserve punishment. What would decent parents say when they saw your unbridled ?! Shame on you, Lord Aranthir!"
I was silent. I could not imagine what a punishment could be for my fault, I did not know what they were going to do with me: they would carve, strip food for a few days, lock in one of the lower chambers, where there was darkness, dampness and cold? I was almost indifferent, if only I was not expelled, not deprived of teaching. My mother hardly let me go to Nar-Ankar, and I did not know how to explain to her everything that happened, how to look her in the eye...
The mentor finally turned around, and something in my face made him soften. He asked:
"Why did you allow yourself such a thing? Why did you harm your friend? He hardly breathes now!"
I could not lie, and there was nothing to hide.
"Sir," I answered, feeling the wave of anger and grief rise again in me, "I admit what I did, but I do not admit guilt." This insignificance, overwhelmed by demons, committed murder out of whim, shed innocent blood, and even in a sacred place where great knowledge is stored! Moreover, the victim was not a simple slave, although this could not have been tolerated, but the magician and the scientist and the murderer knew about it! Could I let the scoundrel down his meanness?!
"How did you do that? How did you manage to direct force?" broke out at the teacher, and I just as honestly replied:
"I do not know, sir."
The mentor turned away again and asked, looking out the window:
"How did you know who he was? Have you talked to a slave?"
"It was not difficult to find out, sir, and it was not difficult to find out: both the sight and speech were immediately given out in him by a scientist with many knowledge, although his name remained a mystery to me."
"Well, Lord Aranthir," the teacher said, "I do not know what you needed from a slave, and I will not ask." Remember one thing: he was from atheist magicians, which means he was an enemy. He could have been anyone, even your father's murderer-that's enough to not believe blindly to everything he chattered to you. Forget his words as soon as possible, but remember this story always and do not give yourself any more. The fact that you have a crushing power - and your gift, and your test. You'll have to keep it on your leash all your life, like a rugged horse, otherwise you'll ruin yourself in the heat of passion, and destroy everything around, and you'll have to start right now. Can you hear me, Lord Aranthir? - He came up to me and wagged a finger.
"I hear, sir." I nodded, accepting the just words of the mentor. I remembered well how I was flooded with anger and despair, how I was ready to bring down the walls on the murderer and how I thought that it was possible, it was possible for him... For a moment I could say that the teacher was looking at me with apprehension.
"May it be so. Haroon!" he called, and at that instant his servant appeared on the threshold. The teacher said something quietly to him and added: "Help Lord Arantir to collect things and carry him out so that he... does not lose his way."
The servant bowed. I also bowed my head to the teacher and walked away with a petrified heart. So it's over, they ban me. Farewell, Teachings, Farewell, Light of Truth, Farewell, Great Knowledge. The exile will no longer be accepted by any school, no mentor will give him his patronage...
As I approached, my two neighbors rushed out of the bedroom. I silently collected my poor possessions. Harun - himself, they said, from the former magicians - he took my bag from me by force and pointed to the door with his hand. The end. That's all, Aranthir.
In the deathly silence, we passed by the novices and servants crowded in the corridor, descended the steps - the body was carried away, and the blood stain also disappeared, washed away by someone's smart hands. I went to the main gate - already forever, but Harun called to me:
"Not there, sir."
"What?" I turned around, not believing my ears.
"Not there," he repeated patiently, and in his eyes I saw sparks. - You are transferred to another tier, to the necromancers. You will have your own rooms from now on.
To be continued
Thank you for reading!