20
The Reward
Lis walked confidently, like a master, into the main hall, where Kudmer’s throne stood, and now it became his, but… the throne was occupied. And Lis froze, and a tall elderly man rose from the throne to meet him, and his bright scarlet clothes were decorated with gold so much that it seemed that flames were running over it. The same red hair, only on the temples, like a mountain ash hit with frost, was dusted with gray. Everyone looked at this man, not understanding who he was, and why he took the throne of Kudmer, and now of Lis.
And Lis also looked at him, unable to utter a word:
“Father…”
And his father said nothing and looked at him.
Prince Arel, Nikto, Vitor Kors and Karina, Zaf, Parky and several unclean ones stood behind Lis and also looked at his father in silence.
Vitor Kors came to himself first:
“I think we’d better leave them,” he said quietly.
“Yes,” Zaf agreed, he made a quick gesture with his hand away from himself, towards the unclean ones, as if waving them away, and his warriors and Parky with his three unclean ones moved back to the door.
“We will wait for you in the room next to you,” Nikto told Lis.
“Good,” answered Lis, looking at Nikto and at the same time as if looking through him. It seemed that he didn’t understand at all what was being said to him and what was happening. But when his friends headed for the exit, he stopped Karina by taking her hand and squeezing it tightly:
“Stay,” he said, and Karina froze.
“Welcome home, Sigmer,” said Lis’ father, after the three of them remained in the hall, pronouncing his name differently from how the blacks and red commoners pronounced it, and how Lis called himself, but how it should have sounded right, on the noble “supreme red” language, and it was rather: “Simer”, without such a clear and harsh “g”, and with a strong emphasis on the first syllable. “It is you?”
He carefully looked at Lis, and Lis, not letting go of Karina’s hand, sank to the floor, kneeling in front of his father, and Karina after him. Lis bowed his head, and his father said:
“You've changed a lot… what’s wrong with your hair? It is dark!”
“Yes,” Lis answered, not looking up at his father.
“But how is this possible? Did you dye it? Were you ashamed of its color? The color of your red superiority?”
“No.”
“Did the black ones inspire you to make your hair like theirs?”
“No. My hair itself darkened over time, I don’t know why, after thirty it began to darken,” Lis lied to his father so easily that Karina was involuntarily amazed.
“Really? Very strange,” Igmer said thoughtfully.
He came very close to them, and, reaching out his hand, touched the dark brown, only slightly shimmering in burgundy, Lis’ hair. “Maybe this is how your black roots appeared over time?”
“Most likely, father,” Lis finally let go of Karina, and, taking his father’s hand with both hands, kissed his fingers, Igmer allowed him.
And Lis knelt in front of him and kissed his hand, as if just a couple of hours ago he had not won an unconditional and brilliant victory over the enemy’s army, twice outnumbering his own, and had not captured the twenty thousandth Ore town, and was not fearless and a worthy commander.
“Forgive me,” he told his father.
And he, smiling, finally lifted him from his knees:
“It's all in the past,” said Igmer, peering into the face of his son with fatherly warmth, still stained with powder soot and splattered with someone else’s blood. “I have forgiven you long ago.”
He looked at Karina. She shrank, froze, lowering her eyes, since the shield of the mask hid her expression.
“But you're with her again,” Igmer said, and Karina very clearly caught disappointment and discontent in his voice.
