understand the secret of the Black Stone. They won't even let me finish, they'll say that you're all drunk and crazy with grief. That's what they'll tell me.

— So you remind her that the Mountain needs her.

Misha froze. He didn't even know what to say to that. Woe, because she was really needed then. Needed then, needed now. And, if they have a hunch that he started to play not on their side, so she will be very useful. It does make sense, regardless of what Natasha was dreaming about.

He put his arms around her and kissed her hard:

— You're smart… You should be a chief commander…

Inquisitor

The room was disgusting. It was just plain disgusting. Not dirty, not damp, not small. Just disgusting. The stench of the S.S.C. stank everywhere. It was as if they went and wiped the walls and the floor with themselves, and then climbed up on stepladders and climbed on the ceiling.

Samoh looked at this room and burned with hatred for everything around him. Someone had dared to choose this room for him. Someone had dared to put his own sentries outside this room.

And someone dared to decide for him when he could leave this room.

Ananhr. That vile creature. The sister of a member of the Central Committee of the Empire. A colonel of the SCC. A woman. Yes for any of those words combined with what was done to him should be tortured and executed. Torture and execution. And put on paper how it was done. How it was done precisely, coherently and in a timely manner. By all rules, standards and canons. So that no other creature, no other sister, no other colonel, no other woman would dare to even think that she could dispose of the Metropolitan's time.

And yet there was a window. Not a wide one with bars. But still a window. And now it seemed to be the most important thing in the room.

It was the fourth floor and quite high to the ground. Every now and then, a patrolman from the SCK security drill passed by below and looked around. Not once, no matter how many times they looked out, there was no sight of a plague from the punitive drill of the unspoken resource. It was already the second day, and not a single one of them had passed by, there were no sounds of them outside the door, and in general they did not appear anywhere.

Samoh was beginning to worry. Of course, his drill without a command shouldn't do anything, but seeing that their leader was gone, they should at least engage in searching for him, find him and get orders for further action. Especially the last order they were given was to keep control of the sector's administrative building. And where is it, this control?

One could imagine that together with the novices, the SSchekists one or two by one also interrupted a few chums of the tacit resource, but to imagine that they were all interrupted like that. No. It's impossible. There is something wrong here. It's all beyond comprehension… Shots would have been heard, explosions. Even if we imagine they lost, it couldn't have happened so meekly and silently. It's impossible.

Samoh looked out of the window into the distance. From here he could see the road he'd had to take three days ago stretching off into the distance, and judging by the way the trains went back and forth from time to time, it was more than workable. He'd been sitting like that watching those tracks all day, hoping to find something that might help him get out of this shit. And the whole time he was thinking, one central thought flashed across his mind — how did he even get into all of this in the first place. I mean, everything was going according to plan. His masterful victory in the Corsa sector over Bazankhre. And his sudden appearance here. Everything was going his way… And in a moment he didn't understand, all his achievements had been undone….

No. It's not quite no, though. It's not the accomplishments that have been undone. He was derailed. And solely because of his overconfidence. That's what he allowed himself to do in this game. And it was that, and nothing else, that had brought him to this situation… Everything had gone too smoothly on the Corsa sector, too much as it should. But also the opportunities there were all hands on deck unlike what he had here… What did he have here? Surprise effect? Any other trump cards? No. Well, why did he get so careless? He knew that bitch had something to lose and that she wouldn't let herself be drugged like the others… Did he know that? He knew it. So why didn't he take it into account?

His mind was beginning to clear of hatred and anger. Starting to become more objective. When he began to realize that he had allowed himself to do things he had no right to do, he relaxed, he got loose… There were times in his career when he had to retreat, change his mind or his plans, and only then go on the attack again. It seemed perfectly logical. But now the rank of Metropolitan had clouded his eyes… No, one must not make such mistakes. Even with the support of Nevrokh, even with an unspoken resource. No matter what surrounds him — must be in shape and ready to take any blow. And from anyone. And anywhere. And certainly in the cloister of the SSchekists…

How they stink. And everything that surrounds them…

Samoh noticed a train coming toward the administration building, and recognized it as his own, with a reinforced mid-car with a railing on the roof. He had indeed ordered them to arrive in the Deese sector when the work on the tracks was completed, but they should have arrived yesterday, and he thought he had simply missed the point. It turned out that the train had only arrived now, and this new mismatch of plans and reality had him stumped again. Where were the orders being carried out anyway? His orders? The Metropolitan's orders. The punishment drill has no idea how it controls the building. The train arrives when it wants to… One could assume someone made a mistake, was late, betrayed. But for everyone to do it at the same time. No, that's impossible. And there has to be some explanation.

The Inquisitor stepped away from the window and approached the door. Then he knocked threateningly several times. He knocked intermittently and very powerfully. He knocked intermittently and powerfully, so that it looked as if he were knocking someone who was ready to come out if he wanted to.

The door opened almost immediately. A secret police officer appeared, and another behind him.

— Do you require assistance, Your Eminence?

— You're the one who needs my help. Do you want blessing or excommunication?

— Your Eminence, we serve at your service and protect you, including as an important witness in a treason case. — Without blinking an eye, the one closest to him answered. It was obvious that they had been given strict instructions, rehearsed several times, and it would not work to try to browbeat them or to enlighten them in any way. They would fawn over him indefinitely and would not allow him to leave the room even one meter.

— Tell your mistress that either she will come here herself, or she will have no witness. — The inquisitor said firmly and slammed the door shut behind him, making the two S.S.C. officers a little uncomfortable. Let them know that he has physical strength too, you damned brats. They dare to make a fool of themselves in front of him.

It was beginning to get dark, and Samokh lit a kerosene lamp for himself. He put it on the table and sat down in front of it. The room was quite spacious, and there were two windows, facing two sides from different corners. But still the smell. That unbearable official odor of those lousy servants from SCK… After a couple of minutes the lamp was already smoking properly, and the vile smell was somewhat diluted by burning kerosene. Even so, it was better…

The door to the room opened and a foot stepped inside. The mantle of the Metropolitan was revealed, and in the walking shadows from the lamp Samokh recognized his colleague Guzokh in this plague. Having choked a little at first, Samokh jumped up from his chair and exclaimed in surprise:

— What the hell are you doing here?

— I came to see an old friend… — Guzokh was leaning on a long wooden staff and seemed to be barely moving his feet. — I suppose you have failed to find heresy here…..

— Why are you clowning around?! Help me get out of here. Call my chums from the Boer that came with me!

— Why call? — Guzokh settled on a chair near the entrance. Despite the simplicity and even a certain decrepitude of this piece of furniture, he didn't look inferior on it. On the contrary, he looked humble and unwavering at the same time, which was a bit surprising. — So that you, brother priest, would massacre this place?

— What is this heresy? Do you realize what you're saying? I'm locked up! By what right?

— Under secular law. What else… Why did you start saying such things about our holy patriarch? If it's true, you should testify in the case of state treason. And if not, you should resign as Metropolitan because you slandered His Holiness.

Guzokh sat so calm and at ease that one would have thought he had come to preach to a bunch of his favorite workers somewhere in a factory making flags and special symbols of the plague empire. His eyes were practically unblinking, and his breathing was very even. And expectant…

— So you're with them! — Samokh shouted. — You foul creature! You should be burned yourself!

— I serve the holy Church… But you, brother priest, seem to be confused about whom you serve… And yet, I will ask you again… Have you slandered the holy patriarch or are you ready to testify against him?

— I'm going to kill you! — Samokh lunged at Guzokh and tried to grab him by the robe with one hand, swinging with the other. Samokh drew back easily, and then swung his staff at him. There was a crack, and Samoh was on the floor, flying backwards. His mouth was salty with the taste of his own blood.

— Don't be so hot… — Guzokh said in a calm voice again. — I see that you are finally confused… Well, nothing. We have time to think…

— My punishment drill will set me free! And then you will have your bonfire! — shouted Samoh, still on the floor.

Guzoh, who had already gotten up and opened the door to leave, turned around and, smiling slightly, replied:

— This drill belongs to the holy Church, Brother Priest Samoh… And all the time you have been in this cell, it has been subject to me….

End of part three.