Rami Yudovin
Wind in the Hands

Rami Yudovin, Israeli author of scientific and theological works on bible researches and

ancient history, represents the novel parable about the good and evil, about a duty and

a freedom of choice.

He put some question in his book: Can a person be under the shadow of God’s

grace, being outside the church? Does he recognizes the freedom of choice or should

follow his calling? Should human reflect, ponder and doubt himself, friends, and even

Providence? Is he able see a difference: whether he is а performer of divine

Predestination or just is used by forces taking kind of "Angels of Light".

For readers also might be interesting another point: How and where prophecies are

born? How they affect people. Who has the right and privilege to unravel them?

Whether has a person his choice, if he has been led by evil so that to create divine

deeds?

Despite the "visible" storyline is quite simple, the novel is exciting fiction. In the book

there are no names of places and heroes. They all have symbolic character. The

Stranger, having come across the ancient prophetic text about upcoming arrival of the

Enemy, experiences the feeling similar to the wind. He tries to understand the meaning

of it. He hears a voice ordering him to follow into the City. Stranger realizes that should

execute special mission and he needs people with unusual abilities for that. He finds the

Soldier, a person with a special intuition to distinguish danger, and the Seer, a

telepathist and a hypnotist. However the Seer considers that the Stranger poses a

threat to the residents of the City and decides to stop him…

‘

Wind in the Hands

All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Part One

Getting to Know Each Other

Chapter 1. The Stranger

The Stranger preferred solitude as his way of life and had lived so for several months. He liked to climb up the mountains where he was standing on the top observing through the mist the fuss of the city, which seemed small and weak from above. It is different in a metropolis where the man seems small. The Stranger lay down on his cape, raised his eyes up towards the eternal heaven and addressed the Invisible. He felt that the old world was going away, very special time was coming and significant change was pending.

The Stranger had believed in the Creator from the time he was young, unconsciously and never doubting His existence assuming that belief in God was a natural state. But he might be feeling more at ease with this than others as it was more than just belief. He had a sense of the Presence. You believe in something invisible and intangible, but when you can see and feel it, you are speaking about knowledge and not just belief.

He was searching the signs of the Creator by reading sacred books thoroughly, learning philosophy, history, and science. His search was ambiguous and disappointing. There is a streamlined system and its laws that harm people. The System, or fate as it is referred to by some people (although this word does not reflect the most complex aggregate of all factors), is so strong that the Stranger felt powerless and unable to resist it.

But it all changed one day…

Late in the evening he was still reading a manuscript of a doubtful origin. That ancient manuscript seemed to contain confused original and invented, pictures drawn by diseased imagination and true prophesies. The manuscript narrated about future events, promised catastrophes, wars, and arrival of a person named the Enemy.

Unexpectedly the Stranger felt something strange in his head and shoulders, something like a wind and breath showing to a different extent. At first he was surprised and even touched his head, but soon calmed down and got used to the feeling and a while later the breath gradually subsided.

As he failed to find an accurate word to describe the feeling, he called it the Wind. At that time he saw himself as a man possessing power and very special knowledge.

The Stranger could foretell future but still could not fully manage that talent. He had difficulties to tune to that channel accessible to some and that required a huge mental strain.

Being a beholder he could see the true essence of many things around him but considered himself a passer by and did not interfere with events, often saying: “Live and enjoy, do not harm creatures. Help as much as you can. Learn from experience and acquire new experience. Live by spiritual law and hope that in the other world you will see an open door to the abode you have built in this world.”

He believed that knowledge and understanding of the essence of things meant freedom that prevented from errors and was required for inner development. Although sometimes he seemed that he could do more, like open secret doors or influence consciousness. The Stranger knew how dangerous it was to summon humankind to change. From ancient times onwards, prophets had been killed with the greatest violence. Although they never called to the overthrow of power, wars, or riots, and just pointed out to human vices and infidelity, they had always been resisted by authorities and false priests. However strange that might sound, the most successful attempts against the chosen ones were made by religious authorities who seemed to be kindred. Prophets paid with the same coin by summoning the people to distrust priests, pointing out to their expressed and secret sins. The Stranger thought that the so-called shepherds and other helmsmen did not know the way to the Light but felt desire for power, respect, and money.

But there were other shepherds who were indifferent to secular values, suffered for their beliefs and were ready to face death. It was not only their stubbornness and unwillingness to submit to authorities, but the belief that was blessed with the ancient tradition. The Stranger was apprehensive of them even more than of those avaricious shepherds as they were always willing to shed blood of both their friends and their enemies, and the price to achieve the goal was not important. He called these priests Hood servants.

A coverlet is a barrier on the way to the Heaven. An attempt to tear it off or at least make a hole in this veil often costs the chosen ones’ life. The Stranger could see how the Hood adapts the most progressive ideas and distorts them. The diamond of knowledge is the gift for all people that is inside us. It does not shine but remains valuable and is waiting for the hands of an experienced jeweler to clean and grind the stone, turning it into a brilliant. A sun ray will appear, and the stone will explode into many sparks, and its light can never be taken for the shine of a minor piece of broken glass.

The Stranger knew that all who fight illusions do not toil in vain. He was ready to risk own life and even die consciously, following in the footsteps of his spiritual advisor, the Prince, who had lived several centuries before in the dark years.

However, he thought it unreasonable to act as he wished without a special sign. Mere desire is not enough. A man is chosen as a native privilege. The Heaven nominates and not by mere chance, but its criteria remain a secret to all. What if the Stranger is one of those? Will it be possible to live normal life with all of its anxieties and joys? You can survive, especially if you follow worldly rules: achieve your goal by any means and live within the restrictions of the criminal code. Still, there is an internal code apart from the criminal one. By consistently violating the internal code, we destroy ourselves. We acquire little and lose more. We win in a battle but lose in the war.

The Stranger was confident that means were no less important than the goal, and selection of means was sometimes the goal. He was confident just in one thing: if you were fleeing your destiny, you would not feel happy but just anxious because you failed to use and buried your talent. Of course, you can fill your life with work, love to a woman, get buried in your cares deep enough to have no time or power to climb the mountain and look at the stars.

He was more often asking, “Who covered the Earth with the Coverlet? Who is on the way towards spiritual development of humankind? Who is in organized opposition to the chosen ones?”

Once, when he climbed up the mountain, looked into the sky, smiled at slowly floating clouds, he suddenly and unexpectedly heard a distinct and firm Voice in his head saying, “Time has come! Get up and go to the City!”

He did not know what was to be done in that case. He had no action plan and thought that he needed associates. Having returned to his small rented flat, he ate some dried figs, and sat down on the floor cross-legged. He concentrated, trying not to think, and asked a question about the search direction. Listening to his feelings, he took a map from his bookcase, closed his eyes, and started to feel it with his hands. A minute later his finger stopped all by itself, and the Stranger opened his eyes.

“Is it so?” he was both surprised and anxious.  “Let’s check once again.”

The result was the same, and his finger stopped at the same spot. He recollected a computer game, where a hero had overcome many barriers, left the tunnel, a collapse occurred directly behind his back, and he had to move forward to ominous monsters.

“It is high time,” he thought, looking in the mirror. “And nothing has changed but the heart is worried. I have been waiting for this time to come, and now everything is as it has always been before!”

The point, where his finger happened to be by will of fate (or game of luck), was the place for disarmament of mobile rebel gangs. There were checkpoints, mobile patrol units, and military observers in the area.

He was quizzically watching the map when there was a memory flash, bringing out the last year’s newspaper article, which described how an army pathfinder found a mobile-triggered powerful bomb in the road ditch. The explosive was in a hard case camouflaged as a stone slab. Its form and color made it identical to many stones scattered near a death weapon. Its finding prevented a powerful explosion, cynically triggered at a school bus, touring historical places.

The Stranger understood whom he needed and was getting ready to embark on his journey. Leaving his home, he glanced at shabby walls of the building, his window with a heavy curtain, indifferently shrugged his shoulders, and strolled to the bus stop.

Chapter 2. The Soldier

Since early morning the Soldier had taken his position and was sure that he would see unwelcome “guests” soon. He had been in the ambush for three hours when he suddenly felt that an object was nearing. He blinked, making his tense eyes comfortable, and closed his eyelids for several seconds. His finger smoothly touched the trigger. Less than ten minutes later, a traveler appeared from behind the hill. He did not have a gun or a bag but was wearing a tight sleeveless T-shirt. “Nothing on him,” the Soldier thought. “But he is neither a farmer, nor a worker. He has a fighter gait: he is looking around and peering. No doubt, he is a warrior but I cannot shoot, he is not the main aim. I need to wait not to frighten off others. Still, they will show up soon, nearly close, and the first one here is a dummy, their scout, a straw. A cheap trick.”

Much time elapsed but “guests” did not appear. Strange, could there be mistaken? He doubted if his decision was correct: maybe he should have liquidated the terrorist. The Soldier lived by simple principles as any other warrior would: if I did not destroy my enemy, they would destroy me, my dear ones, children, women, and innocent people. He never said ‘killed’. ‘Liquidated’, ‘destroyed’, sometimes ‘wiped off’; these words seemed to confirm the need of physical extermination of enemies.

The value in a war is not only cunning or valor. It is also ruthlessness to your enemy. You differentiate between your people and others, friends and enemies. People who do not know each other join their efforts and are willing to sacrifice themselves to save their comrades whom in the peacetime they would hardly lend money to. The Soldier thought that the war revealed the best qualities in humans, meaning self-sacrifice, which conflicted with the strongest instinct of survival. Still, we should not forget the pressure of society, which sometimes pushes people to sacrifice their life to benefit humankind. Others spew their accumulated aggression and hatred. Sadistic inclinations and cruelty, hidden deep down, are easily vented in a battle. Some people break in extreme situations, and others grow stronger.

The Soldier could tell a real danger from the assumed one. His feelings never failed him, although he had contributed much effort and had bitter experience when he was trying to tell that difference. Despite the nature of his work, he believed in God in his own way. Before each business trip or after a battle, he visited the sanctuary, listened to religious singing, and always donated to church. That helped the Soldier to find an inner balance for at least a short time. Unlike his colleagues he did not get drunk, did not take drugs, trying to relieve stress. But still he felt that burden deep down in his soul which even grew heavier. And yesterday, while in church, he promised to quit his job, retire, and move somewhere to live in the quiet.

A mobile phone vibrated. The Soldier took it out from the coat sleeve fast and read an encoded message saying “Leave immediately. Cleaning pending.” The area will be searched and cleaned. The specified area will be cordoned off and searched for all suspicious persons. “Thank you for warning”, but it was not dark yet, and it was hard to move unnoticed. You could encounter rebels or, still worse, fire of the cleaners, shooting from all directions at all who look suspicious or just didn’t like.

A cleaning operation implies the use of the so-called ‘fifty’ device which scans the area and responds to living objects. Camouflage is of no avail in this case. If cleaners see him holding a gun, they will never investigate and just start fire without warning. Nobody will risk and act slowly: an armed person is a danger. It is a reflex with an index finger, bending and unbending on the trigger.

Cleaners are contract soldiers who carry out the dirtiest work. Battle is their elements where they can slop their aggression and instead of being punished, receive gratitude. Usually they cover their face with a scarf or a mask not to be seen. There were many complaints against cleaners but legal proceedings were never started as it was hard to find witnesses to testify against their comrades or ‘masks’. A legal action was taken only when the suffering party presented a video or in case of a favorable public opinion.

The Soldier was against cleaning operations as they resulted in the death of innocent people. Thus, cleaners who took a drill for a gun in the dark killed a young electrician, a father of three kids. After he had learnt about that, the Soldier challenged the reason of war, which entailed suffering of the civilian population. Can kind deeds be evil, although unintentionally or by mistake? Why are professional soldiers, who would never kill an electrician, unmistakably see fighters, and destroy them, mobilized for liquidation so rarely? The Soldier was the master of surgical strikes and was confident that his work did not require an excuse as he was wiping killers off the Earth. When he saw innocent victims of fighters, beautiful women and strong men torn to pieces by explosions, or slaughtered babies, he stopped to doubt and was ready to shoot all those who were connected with rebels: militants with guns and explosives or ideologists inciting killing. The Soldier considered himself a hunter for wolves that were ruthless to sheep…

Chapter 3. Meeting

The Soldier hid his shoulder arm. It was much safer to go unarmed in that case not to raise any suspicion. He took out earlier prepared clothes from his bag, changed and then looked like a pilgrim on a tour around famous sights. Warriors lower their arms when they see such weirdoes, joke and insult them but never shoot.

Slowly and carefully, and slightly clumsily the Soldier was going down the steep mountain. Having walked about three hundred steps along the path towards the nearest settlement, he saw a man approaching him. He carefully looked around trying to understand where to run in case of shooting but did not feel danger. He inhaled and exhaled slowly and listened to his feelings again: “Definitely no danger. Who dares walk here? People warned of a cleaning operation do not leave their settlement.”

When they met, the travelers glanced at each other. The Soldier seemed to feel that the yearning, which was with him all the time, was evaporating without any church singing. He wanted to speak with the stranger who spoke first.

“Be in peace. I am glad I’ve found you. It was not easy.”

He was wearing simple comfortable clothes, had a beard and long hair but did not look like a rebel and spoke without any perceptible accent typical to local residents.

“Who are you?” the Soldier asked the man who was penetrating him with his kind and slightly ironical eyes.

“I am your friend.”

The Soldier felt the traveler’s geniality.

Have you seen a couple of people with bags or sacks nearby?

“Yes, I have seen them and spoken with them and warned them of a deadly peril.”

“Do you know them?” the Soldier grew suspicious.

“No more than you,” a Stranger answered calmly.

“Then why have you helped them?” the Soldier ground his teeth.  “They are killers, enemies. How do you know?” he checked himself. “Who are you?”

“They have not killed anyone, but you killed a lot.”

“They are killers,” the Soldier reiterated stubbornly, but suddenly under the changed glance of his companion, he felt limp and slightly dizzy.

“You don’t know how killers are made. You can see only a small fragment of a large mosaic and not the big picture. You are digging in earth looking for worms for your hook, but not catching large fish with a net. You have a talent but you are wasting it.”

“What sort of a talent do I have,” the Soldier was staring at this latter-day preacher open-eyed.

“Your intuition, good grasp of the situation and all that without any background. But your capabilities are within the narrow world of first person shooters, and that's why you are in worm digging,” the companion looked away.

“These shooters rescued many lives,” the Soldier was appearing calm but his voice betrayed poorly concealed rage.

“While you rescued some people, you brought death to others. This is not the best solution.”

“I have rescued my people by destroying the enemy who has been dreaming of killing us all,” the Soldier believed he was saying the universal truth.

“There are no my or other races, peoples and tribes in the world of peace and justice.”

“What country do you mean? I do not care about other customs. I haven't heard about this country in the news. Where is it?”

“There is no such country on the Earth, but its laws have reached us. If you want to get there, you will have to live here following its rules.”

“I see. You mean life after death. Do you seriously believe that? Who cares for us there…”

“Yes, I do. Let me tell you a funny story:

Two twin would-be babies are talking inside a pregnant woman. One of them is a believer, while the other is a non-believer. The non-believer baby asks,

‘Do you believe in life after birth?’

‘Yes, I do. We are here to get ready to live after birth,’ answers the believer baby.

‘But it is impossible! There is no life after birth! Can you imagine that other life?’

‘I don't know the details, but I believe that we will have more light and we will be able to walk and eat with our own mouths.’

‘That's absolute crap! You cannot walk on your legs or eat with your mouth! That’s so absurd! We have an umbilical cord, which feeds us. Listen to me, life after birth cannot exist because our life is our umbilical cord and we will die without it.’

‘I am sure it is possible. Just everything will be slightly different.’

‘But no one has returned! Our life just ends with birth. And generally life is enormous suffering in the dark.’

‘Oh, no! I am not sure what this life is going to be but we will see our mother in any case and she will take of us.’

‘You are speaking about mother? Do you believe in mother? And where is she then?’

‘She is all around us; we are inside her and can move and live owing to her. We cannot exist without her.’

 ‘That’s nonsense! I have never seen the mother and it means that she just doesn’t exist.’

‘But you have the inner knowledge of the mother. You know this word, can imagine her, although vaguely. Just remember, when everything is quiet all around, you can hear her singing and feel how she is stroking our world. I believe that our real life will just start after birth’.”

The Soldier grinned and shook his head.

“Not bad. But I am not a follower of the death religion. To reach your country, I will have to die first, that is what the die-hard rebels’ philosophy is about. But what do you want from me? I will never believe you have come to preach about eternal life to a lost sheep.”

“In the sheep’s skin,” corrected the companion, nodding at his short-sleeved T-shirt, and kept silent for some time staring in his eyes, “I need your help. I am not a follower of the death religion. We are going to either have this country here on the Earth, or have nothing.”

The Soldier endured his stare but felt extremely weak in his legs.

“Are you a prophet?” he asked quietly.

“No, I am not a prophet. They call me ‘the Stranger’. In order to understand me, you will have to get rid of any false perceptions,” the Stranger explained as softly as he could.  “Tell me, who is more dangerous: an assassin’s paymaster or a killer?”

“The person who organizes assassination: an intermediary between the customer and the contractor. He appears to be innocent, sleeps calmly, and risks nothing,” the Soldier grinned.

“You know best, but if one kills the assassin’s paymaster you will have no job for killer and facilitator,” the Stranger looked at him inquiringly.

“I quite agree,” the Soldier sighed.

 “So, you see, evil thoughts are more dangerous without any weapons as they direct the killer’s hand. A kind person will not sneer, rape, or kill. If a lost person changes his views, starts to value life, shows tolerance to the men who are as blind as himself, we will have love and knowledge on the Earth that will destroy the evil. A war against evil will bring peace and well-being to the Earth,” the Stranger smiled.

The Soldier became thoughtful. It seemed that the man was not saying anything special and his arguments were naïve and banal, but for some reason they penetrated his soul and infused him with hope to get out from absorbing nets of anguish. However giving it a little thought, he asked himself a question: “What if this man is just a hypnotist? What is his purpose? Why should he take risk? A provocation?”

“Why have you come here? Do you understand where you are now?”

“I know it is not a quiet place, but we will be able to escape,” the Stranger replied.

“The guy is apparently out of himself,” the Soldier had not had such a surprise for long.

“What do you think, partner? Does it make sense to hide until complete darkness and quietly crawl to our settlement, or do we have to go now? Pretend we are two cranks who have mistakenly made it to a closed area. If we are lucky and are not shot, we will play exalted nitwits,” he proposed openly showing his sarcasm.

“It’s no problem for me to pretend an exalted nitwit, so the second option is OK,” the Stranger smiled again.

“You even don’t have to play,” the Soldier was looking at him attentively.  “You are smiling all the time.”

“I always smile when I’m happy,” the Stranger answered.

They were walking in silence for some time. Suddenly the Soldier halted.

“What has happened?” asked his new companion.

“Do not speak our tongue,” the Soldier whispered. “Locals can see us, but do not let them know who we are. It means they will spend time to think the situation over, then consult, inform the settlement, and meanwhile we will have time to leave. Pretend tourists.”

They were lucky not to see the surprised faces of local people, otherwise they would laugh out, seeing the rounded eyes and open mouths of local peasants, because the Stranger spoke the language, and excellently, of sacred texts which was not spoken daily anymore. Priests read the ancient manuscript, written in this language, only at the local community meeting.

The Soldier imitated him and spoke gibberish ruthlessly distorting words. Suddenly he noticed out of the corner of his eye that a teenager separated from the group of villagers standing nearby and rushed to the settlement.

“Beware!” he told his companion roughly. “Some fifteen minutes and militants are here. Let’s run as fast as we can. I have a shelter not far from here, if we can make there, we’ll survive. Come on!”

The Stranger shrugged his shoulders and said discontented:

“We’ll walk there.”

The Soldier was running fast scolding himself for not quitting smoking on time: he was short of breath.

“What has happened to you? Faster!” he shouted turning around, gesturing wildly and mentally swearing: “I must run there and run back to fetch this loony. This Stranger, although crazy, is not alien and is real. I can see through people.”

The Soldier was not turning round; he seemed to hear the sound of an approaching car with armed militants. Having reached the aim in ten minutes, he inhaled deeply, moved a heavy stone aside, and took out an automatic rifle wrapped in oily rags and four doubled magazines with rounds. He was nauseated and his head pulsed from fast running.

“Keep calm, keep calm, they are far away, you still have time”, the Soldier took several deep breaths. Clicking the bolt, he inserted a magazine, loaded the rifle, moved the safety latch in the ‘fire shot’ position, lifted the rifle to the chest level, and moved towards his new companion fast.

The Stranger started to move faster, but seeing the weapon, halted. The Soldier saw an approaching car and waved him sharply to move aside. He hid behind a stone slab and sighted a moving aim.

The Stranger understood everything, looked in the sky and begged,

“Oh, God, I don’t want to spill blood. I’m not here for that reason. What shall I do?”

He started to think feverishly, what is to be done. He was standing embedded, with fear slowly engulfing him.

“I don't believe. I don't believe it. Go way,” he whispered.

“Run! Lie down! Fall down!” the Soldier was shouting from his shelter, but the Stranger was standing in the way, closing the line of sight.

“I can't shoot. I might wound him accidentally. The bullets are loaded, you hit the leg and it comes out of the belly. If militants jump out of their cars and scatter, I don't know how it is going to end. What if they have shells and grenade launchers? I don't have time to climb up. I have nothing to do but wait till they come and get out and start to talk. First talk and then kill. But he had better be out of the way. Why hasn't he run away? Why? He is evidently out of his mind.”

Suddenly shooting started nearby with machine-gun bursts. Hearing the sound, the Soldier could define a gun grade and smiled thoughtfully, “Our people. Just on time. Cleaner fighters.”

The car stopped about hundred meters from the Stranger and turned towards the settlement.

“Thank you,” he whispered. “The path has been paved and blessed.”

The Soldier exhaled, clicked the lever and engaged a safety latch.

“You haven't left me. I have not been mistaken,” the Stranger said overtaking him.

“You even can't understand how lucky you are. Hurry up, cleaners are here. By the way, they have saved you. Why haven't you run?”

“I'm not prey to run away. The God has saved me; cleaner fighters do not know me. The God has saved you, too. Our time has not come yet.”

“It will come, and much faster than you think if we do not hurry: cleaner fighters are nearby.”

“Aren't they our people?” the Stranger grinned.

“Our people are at home. I'm armed and it's a signal for them to start shooting,” the Soldier calmed down and even stopped being angry. “Crazy man, nothing to be done.”

“And if other units are here, will cleaner fighters still start fire seeing armed people?”

“First, joint actions are coordinated, second, you can tell your allies by weapons and uniform, well, mainly by helmets,” the Soldier explained.

“Helmets?” the Stranger asked again. “Is it possible to tell a helmet of a Salvation Army fighter from a rebel helmet?”

“It is possible, but hard to do, especially for someone like you,” the Soldier laid a trap.

“Why?” and the Stranger got trapped.

“Because militants do not wear helmets,” the Soldier threw up his hands in a theatrical gesture.

The Stranger smiled approvingly wagging his head.

“Then, let’s hurry. Listen, I guess you can take your helmet out of the shelter, can’t you? You looked cool in sandals, rugged jeans, Love Save the World T-shirt, and the Salvage Army helmet with a punishing sword,” he added seriously.

The Soldier sighed and tried to smile. His face muscles seemed to be unable to allow a smile, although he had good sense of humor. Approaching his shelter, he turned around, removed the magazine from the rifle, unloaded it, picked a cartridge and placed it in a case, wrapped his weapon in a cloth, placed in an opening of the shelter, closed it with a stone, and then nodded to the Stranger and they moved on. In an hour, they approached the roadblock.

“We have come, they know me here. But they think that I'm helping local people, and they will not be excited to see us, but will not shoot either. That's not bad.”

“I can see that you are liked by all, our people and others,” said the Stranger with mocking respect.

“I don't need love of these nitwits. I once was in a situation at that roadblock. Two Soldiers drank and decided to have their pictures taken for their girlfriends, and with arms for better effect. They drank more and decided to have their picture taken in a battle. One of them made a severe face and started to shoot, but when you are making a picture from the side you cannot see fire properly. So the half-witted photographer stood in front of the line of fire and shouted, ‘Shoot, friend, and say cheers.’ Well, his friend did not think twice and shot.”

The Stranger looked at the Soldier questioningly,

“Is the photographer alive?”

“He is, such fools, however surprising that might sound, are tough. It seems they quite like such idiots up there. Not only we have found them funny.”

The five fighters were scattered at the roadblock. A sniper at the tower was looking through the scope sight at villagers, passing through the roadblock, and swearing at them bored giving orders over the intercom in the local tongue and making peasants look around bewildered. Fighters were roaring with laughter.

The Soldier and the Stranger approached the borderline. An officer waved his hand sharply calling them to be checked. They moved towards him, but at the safety line, they heard an order via the intercom,

“Stand still! T-shirts up!”

“Hey, you loon up there! You’ll give yourself away!” the Soldier shouted and said to the Stranger, “Animals! They can see that we are not strangers and still humiliate us.”

“Local villagers also feel bitter, but can’t you see how gladly they raise their shirts,” the Stranger noted.

“Some of them may be militants with weapons and explosives and they generally like to undress…”

“And will surely demonstrate their death belt, hoping no one will notice it.”

“If you do not check, there will be many militants. It’s a psychological game.”

“Our world is a game, you always play to win, deceive, cheat, but not only players suffer.”

“Can we go?” the Soldier shouted. “Or do we have to take off our trousers?”

“Good idea,” the fighter came down from the tower. “Go, take off your trousers. We'll look and might see something, I have magnifying optics.”

Guffaw could be heard all around.

“I will let you watch, you brat. You won't find it funny! You will have nothing to watch with,” the Soldier snapped and moved towards the wit.

Three fighters immediately aimed at the Soldier, bolts clanked, and safety latches clicked.

“You cross the second line, you lie down and never get up,” the officer said and added scornfully, “attack at a roadblock, so I have the right.”

The Stranger caught the Soldier's hand that was ready to vehemently attack them all hand-to-hand.

“Stay calm. I will speak with them,” he said softly. “Brethren, do not humiliate us. You don’t know the reasons we are here. We have almost been killed by rebels, and do you want to kill us too? Search our papers if you don’t believe your experience. We are peace makers. If I'm not a good peace maker, my friend is a real pacifist,” he nodded at the Soldier.

“Such pacifists do more harm than terrorists,” said one of the fighters spitting at them.

“I won't argue your point, but you are not politicians or judges. Do you really believe we have explosive in our pants? I won’t protest, we have explosives in our pants, but its action excites ladies.”

The fighters at the roadblock laughed approvingly. The officer waved his hand and they passed through the fence to the bus stop.

“I would never think you can joke like that. So strange. I cannot see through you. And I have seen many kinds of people,” the Soldier looked at the Stranger and asked him sharply, “what do you want from me? Who are you?”

“We must understand something. I have heard something. We need associates, we find them and discuss everything,” and the Stranger looked his companion directly in the eyes.

“Who do we need?” the Soldier asked suspiciously looking aside.

“The Seer.”

“Himself?”

“Yes,” his new companion shrugged his shoulders indifferently.

“The Seer will not let us in. Who are we and who is he? Rulers, ministers, generals, and wealthy people from all over the world are dreaming of talking with him. This person does not care for us or respect anyone.”

“He will admit us,” the Stranger was confident. “Let’s exchange mobile phone numbers. Think and let me know if you are coming with me to him or not.”

The Soldier fell thoughtful for some time,

“Ok, write down…”

Chapter 4. The Seer

The Seer had lately rarely spoken in public, although he thought it important to show his rare talent he was lucky (or unlucky, opinion differed) to have. In his childhood he knew that he could feel what people were thinking, could see something others could not see or determine (although that required special conditions) the past and the future, mentally influence the behavior of people and not only of those susceptible to hypnosis.

Travelling around the world, he met people with paranormal abilities, learnt from them, and perfected his skills to earn using his talent. He performed in shows, consulted businessmen, and helped politicians. He was rumored to make bets via his nominees but was not known to win.

He did not consider himself a healer but could suppress pain and alleviate disease symptoms. He helped with different nervous disorders, mobilized the organism to have an energized immune system find and repair failures. Before solving a complex issue, the Seer was in absolute solitude, ate almost nothing, and concentrated on his task, like a vibrating string, all nerves, and ready to fight without the smallest doubt in his success.

He usually had mass hypnosis sessions making people embarrassed. He seemed to enjoy when he made respectful citizens, politicians, military men, or businessmen helpless and especially those who looked down at him helpless. Such people irritated him most of all.

Once during his anniversary performance the Seer asked a man sitting in the first prestigious seats and wearing an expensive suit to go up the stage. This man was eyeing externally non-representative Seer with scorn and grinned: the Seer was short, made fussy and nervous gestures, was always frowning, lame and wore old-fashion spectacles. A man, sitting in the first row, was unlucky to say unceremoniously,

“Now, let's see your tricks.”

The Seer's eyes burning through flared with anger: most of all he could not stand when people took him for a manipulator, a trickster and did not believe in his abilities. He would never forgive that.

The manager standing near the stage perfectly knew what the Seer could do when he was enraged and literally took his head with his hands. That expensive-looking man was a district prosecutor who was known as a cruel, proud, and influential man. Without doubt, the Seer recognized him. Like a boa constrictor, he looked at the Prosecutor with an unblinking and paralyzing stare and crushed his will. At first, the hypnotist made up the image of a small dog. Fixing it in his head, he conveyed the dog image to the Prosecutor as if placing it image with a mouse click to the head and said firmly and clearly,

“You are a dog.”

The Prosecutor's eyes became meaningless and glazed. A respectful man went limp, became drawn, went down on his knees, stood on all fours and started to sniff something. His wife opened her mouth amazed and stared at the stage with horrified eyes. The Seer took a pen out of his pocket, threw it down, and ordered,

“Take it and bring it to me.”

Even when he was young and was in the service or military courses, the Prosecutor did not fulfill commanders' orders so high-spiritedly as that one. On all fours, leaning on his knees and palms, he ran up to the pen lying on the floor, carefully fetched it with his teeth and brought to the Seer in the same manner.

“Good dog. Good dog,” he took the pen out of the Prosecutor's mouth, wiped it fastidiously with his handkerchief and tenderly tousled a new dog at the back of his neck. The Prosecutor had never been happier in all his life as at that time. His eyes were shining and he even tried to lick the Seer's hand, but the Seer removed it just on time.

The Prosecutor's wife rushed to the stage.

“Stop this immediately!” she cried out. “I beg you! What are you doing?”

“Lady,” the Seer looked at her wanly, “it is a lesson for your husband.”

The performance was on live and the entire country was laughing at that respected man playing a dog. The prosecutor did not remember anything, but he saw the recording of his shame and could not live with that. It was especially hard after his court claim for harm to his honor and dignity was dismissed. He had many friends and no one dared take legal action against the Seer. The prosecutor was a burnt card; he shrank into himself, retired. His kids were bullied at school and asked to bark. His wife was looked at scornfully or with sympathy which made the proud woman suffer. Soon the former prosecutor shot himself in his study.

The widow, having wept over her deceased husband, came to the Seer and he met her in cold blood. She jumped up to the host, bunching her fists, but did not dare strike her enemy,

“You have killed my husband! Broken the life of my family! He did not believe in your power! What of it? You have stomped him! And it is not only he who suffered, but our kids who are left without their good and caring father and breadwinner. Has the God bestowed power on you to take your bodily imperfections on successful and beautiful people? No! You do not act from the God! Priests are right in saying that you are a demon and spiteful sorcerer. What right have you had to destroy our world? Oh, if only I could destroy you!”

“The waiting list is too long, I'm afraid, you will have to wait long,” the Seer answered indifferently. “Do you want to hear a reason or have you come to shed your pain?”

“A reason? Can there be a reason?” the widow was indignant.

“There is always a reason, but we sometimes cannot see it. But you haven't come to learn why; you have come to learn how you are going to live on. Death of your husband is a motive to approach me. Your spouse was a good father but he has never been faithful and do not raise your eyebrows, do not play with me. You must have heard about many broken lives of the people, whom your husband has sent to jail. And do not tell me that they are all criminals; some of them were absolutely innocent. Your husband made severe sentences disproportionate with crimes. Just hear the last one: a young man who was foolish enough to get into the house of a politician, stole some paper in the form of banknotes and several gold trinkets was sentenced to eight years of prison. Eight years!”

The Seer's eyes flashed. He was silent for some time, then calmed down and spoke on, “your husband, an excellent speaker, convinced judges of the threat of home burglaries and they made a sentence without second thoughts. Eight years of torture, and a spot over the entire short life, and just to please a robbed politician the prosecutor was playing golf with. And the lad had a sick mother and two sisters he had to help. I visited them and I helped them, a spiteful sorcerer. There was almost no food in the house but the mother with tears in her eyes asked me to have tea with stale bread. She kissed my hands begging to help her poor son. She showed me his splendid pictures, touching childish stories written by that talented boy and I knew that every word of the mother was true. Your husband has maimed the whole family but I will correct that and make sure the boy is set free.”

“Do you mean we don't have to punish criminals?” the guest was sincerely surprised.

“All have violated some laws, if not yours, then the law of equity. Most crimes do not deserve jail. Just do not create conditions for crimes. Go into the question and have a heart. Your husband made his career on criminals who had no money to pay for lawyer services. But I haven’t killed him. You could leave the country, but no, there has been no threat for you here,” the Seer started to nervously pace the room. There was a feeling of a growing danger.

“And what about shame?” the woman was speaking very softly.

“You can live with that. Those, who do not climb high, do not feel pain when they fall,” he recollected an old saying.

“And what about my children?” the widow asked that important question.

The Seer thought for a minute and answered,

“I can't see anything wrong. You are not going to stay lonely, have no fear, next month you will meet a nice man and forget your hatred in his hands, and without voicing it, you will remember me with gratitude.”

“I will be interviewed by leading newspapers and TV,” she said timidly wanting to hear his opinion.

“Tell them whatever you want, I will forgive you, have no fear. Just do not insult my talent, you cannot judge that. All the best,” and the Seer made a gentlemanly gesture at the door.

Chapter 5. Boys

The widow left. The Seer was trying to explain his new uneasy feeling. He felt bad, but that had nothing to do with his recent guest. He always attentively monitored his feelings to probe events when preparing to them.

The Seer had stopped seeing visitors, although there were many willing to meet him at any cost. Just sometimes he helped his friends and acquaintances or the people who came with a recommendation from his close friends.

And suddenly he was told that there were two strange people bold enough to insist he spoke with them. The Seer got angry as he was not waiting for anyone, and his first intent was to make unwanted guests go away, but suddenly he stopped: he felt that the sense of danger was related with them. Curiosity prevailed and he decided to meet them. The gate opened and two men passed to the courtyard.

“Maybe I'll stay here to cover the rear?” asked the Soldier, examining an unknown place. He even did not try to conceal his anxiety.

“Are you afraid?” the Stranger was slightly surprised, looked his friends in the eyes and smiled.

“I don't want to be turned into a dog or worse still, in a pacifist,” the Soldier whispered.

“Don't worry. Even the Seer cannot make you a pacifist. Just, warrior, do not swear even mentally,” the Stranger was in good mood.

“Is it true that he can read all thoughts?” the Soldier got nervous.

“Of course, but abusive language is the easiest to read,” the Stranger was trying not to laugh out loud.

“What's so funny?”

“When you were shooting you were less afraid.”

“War is my elements, I feared all the time, especially at the beginning, but it is different fear. Fear that makes you stronger and sharpens your instincts, but this one deprives you of them. Even my knees are trembling. What a mess I’m in!”

“Fear that deprives you of strength is called panic. Do not worry, hero of the war, I will protect you.”

A beautiful young woman pointed out to the study. Approaching the door, the Stranger listened and said,

“It seems there is no one there. I cannot feel anything.”

“You are mistaken. I'm here,” a slightly croaking voice could be heard from behind the door. This voice could belong to the certain one man only.

They entered a gloomy study: bookcases were crowded with folios; there were curious artifacts on shelves, and abstract demon masks, deities, and pictures on the walls.

“It is impressive! I haven't known that you like fetishes,” uttered the Stranger ironically, watching around the room attentively.

The Soldier inhaled and held his breath: the host would surely push them out for this unceremonious treatment and that was if they were lucky.

“Do not swear and don't be afraid. I respect hospitality laws. If I let you in, I will let you out,’ the Seer addressed the Soldier who expressively glanced at his companion and blushed.

The Stranger did not want to combat the Seer or show disrespect, but he suddenly heard a slight Wind blowing. He slowly turned his gaze earlier directed at the red and brown mask of the God of war at the host. “Can it be the Seer?” The Stranger thought and looked him directly in the eyes. Suddenly, he felt slightly dizzy, got pale, swayed, he was short of breath. But the Wind helped, it became stronger not only in the head and shoulders, but in the arms and that could happen only in special circumstances. Wind came out of him and seemed to be above him at the same time. The jaw vice which seized the Stranger weakened, but he was gradually filled with strength and nothing could harm him, even the Seer who was capable to lull a large audience or make a crowd jump on one foot in one place in unison.

“I haven't come to fight you or show my strength, I have come to speak. Trust me,” the Stranger said slowly and distinctly.

The Seer was shaken. He literally pierced his guest with his stare. His eyes became wet from tears and showed fear and pain. Seeing this misery of a great man, the Soldier rejoiced. He believed. He believed the Stranger.

“I have never seen anything like that. What was that?”

The Seer was speaking with difficulty. He sat down on a chair and pointed his finger at water. The Stranger rushed to fetch him a glass of water.

“Please let's not test each other. I have come with peace,” said the guest quietly. When he saw the host in that condition, he could not rejoice in his victory.

“I haven't tried to impact you to make you unconscious, I just wanted to feel you to understand what you live with. I haven’t shown aggression, but drove against a powerful energy stroke. Who are you?” the Seer was externally calm and was eying the Stranger without fear but amazed.

“I need your help. Can we talk?” the Stranger asked.

“Take a seat, but I doubt I can help you,” the Seer pointed at the chairs.

The Soldier was the first to take a seat; he was no less surprised than the Seer. The Stranger took his seat, too.

“I would like to know what you think about an important issue. I’ve heard something,” he started.

“In what state were you at that time?” the Seer completely recovered. He made himself forget his weakness as a bad dream, absolutely erase from his memory.

“I climbed up the hill and tried to tune in the heavenly wave and started to speak,” the Stranger hoped the Seer would understand.

“Was it a dialog?” the host's eyes shown smirk.

“It's not a theatrical performance. Why do you use such terms? Do you want to know if I can hear the Voice? Very rarely. But that requires a correct question. Sometimes I hear different voices as if I couldn’t tune on to a necessary wave in a bad quality radio receiver. And still I'm not sure if I heard my subconscious voice or really entered the Source of Knowledge,” it was hard for the Stranger to choose words.

“You have little experience. I have heard many voices or rather senses, since my childhood, and then learnt to translate them in human speech. But I checked myself: I came up to people and told them what they were thinking about. Sometimes I was mistaken, and the words I heard were of the person standing nearby. With time I learnt to differentiate sources,” the Seer started to speak in his normal complacent voice.

“I didn't have the task to read others' thoughts. I'm interested in the rules of the universe and my actions,” the Stranger explained.

The Seer was eyeing his companion with interest.

“A source of Knowledge is a kind of a large shop: there are various goods required for living and even more. There is something we cannot understand or use, at least in our time. A man who happens to be in the supermarket chooses what he needs. But sometimes takes everything he can lay his hands on, even something he cannot and will not be able to use. Give a fighter plane to a music teacher and he won't be able to start it. If you give a mobile phone to a person, living somewhere deep in the countryside, where never heard of radios or telephones, will he use it to communicate or rather hang it on his neck as decoration or use it as a hammer?”

“I understand what you are driving at. I have received something I cannot understand. But you cannot understand everything either. Still, I think the analogy with a shop is not really suitable. A source is rather a warehouse and goods are issued by a storekeeper according to the visitor's inclinations,” the Stranger said smiling.

“If a recipient does not know what it is, he should study an operation manual and understand its purpose.”

“What have you seen on the hill? Repeat exactly what you have heard,” asked the Seer sharply. He couldn't stand polemists and considered that he was always right and therefore was slightly irritated by lack of respect to him.

“I was told: ‘Go to the City’. The voice was distinct and clear as an order. I heard it from outside. I am not crazy. And I'm no less skeptical than you, but ignoring facts is a crime.”

“Have you asked something before that?” the Seer became serious and thought that something important was in the air.

“I asked how I should live. What must I do?”

“Was that all?”

“As regards the Voice, that was all. Then I have started to seek the meaning of the phrase and understood that I have to undertake an important and unsafe mission, but maybe these were the answers prompted by my soul and consciousness.”

“It's good that you can tell the voice of your consciousness from another voice. But the voice of your soul can be equally true to the heavenly voice,” tutored the Seer.

“Why? How can this be possible?”

“Are you ready to believe anything you hear over the radio?”

“Of course not. Do you want to tell me that I can hear an unknown voice translated from anywhere?”

“Translated by someone for unknown purposes.”

“But there exists the Voice from the Source of the Truth, to explain the unclear and understand the unknown,” the Stranger was slightly alarmed.

“Ok. It is hard to tell it from the voice of your sub-consciousness and more difficult from the voices outside. I'm speaking about the source of information don't have the slightest idea about. By the way, you have interesting terminology for the phenomena which are generally only hard to perceive to say nothing about describing or naming them,” the Seer smiled lightly.

“It is for better understanding. Speak on, please.”

“Imagine there are powerful translators high up in the sky, and all can hear a heavenly voice, but we understand that the signal is from the Earth.”

“I see. You want to say that intelligence services may have sent a signal directly into my brain?” the Stranger got worried. He understood what the Seer was speaking about.

Hearing the words ‘special services’, the Soldier showed the signs of life with a heavy sigh, but, trained a sniper, he learned to be patient.

“Do you think I'm an idiot to believe in the omnipotence of intelligence services?” the Seer asked.

“You know what I'm thinking about.”

“Ok, excuse me. Would you like some coffee? I'll ask to bring some.”

“It is unimportant. But thank you,” the Stranger felt uneasy: the desire to have a coffee was instantaneous and insignificant, but the Seer guessed. The host pressed the intercom button.

Several minutes later a young woman came in, holding a tray with a coffee pot, sugar pot, cups, biscuits, chocolate, and dried fruit on. The Soldier got interested and was watching a beautiful woman looking as if she stepped from a fashion magazine cover. The Stranger glanced at his bemused comrade and slightly raised his eyebrow pointing at the Seer. The Soldier took on an innocent appearance. The host was attentively watching everything going on in the room, laughed carefree and winked at the Soldier. After his guests had their coffee, he lit a cigarette.

“Sorry, I haven't understood what you meant when you were speaking about the source of the Voice?” the Stranger resumed an unfinished talk.

“Have you heard about the Adversary?” the Seer was looking at his guest cunningly.

“Yes, of course. There is a learning of a power confronting the Creator's will and making harm to people. However, the records of the earlier clairvoyants do not mention him. As if they did not see him at all. The evil similarly to the good, as early prophesy manuscript says, – is sent by the Creator who made day and night, light and darkness. And only afterwards, sages concluded that it was not the God who was the source of misfortunes or disasters, but someone else. Let's call him the Adversary. I can assume that this figure, appearing in human consciousness, is based on real circumstances. Although I think all misfortunes sent down on people are actions of the rewarding and responsibility system.”

“You think that all evil, misfortunes, and agony is the doing of the reward system? And do you think it is fair and flawless? That it punishes evildoers and bestows on righteous people? Do you think the Creator is so cruel to people?”

“People make other people suffer. The Creator tries to teach us not to destroy each other but to teach in the way that does not deprive us either of autonomy or of the right of choice. Maybe the reward system is not so apparent to all because its laws overlap and it is very difficult to understand all mechanisms. We don't have much information to make the right choice,” the Stranger was speaking softly and calmly, but he was tense.

“Anyone can deprive people of their autonomy. Even I can do this,” the Seer looked up at a frowning companion and smiled. “Calm down I'm not using my abilities corruptly or for self-assuredness as some think. There are brain diseases that deprive people of self-control. Passions deprive us of reason and make us act crazily, so that we will regret these actions. Manufacturers of goods and advertisements impose a certain value image on us and turn us into slaves who depend on goods, which are attributes of success and happiness in the eyes of ordinary people. Tyrants, rulers, and politicians manage people’s lives. Strong people try to make the weak obey, take away the right to search, independence of thinking, and destroy the right of choice… And have you ever thought why the powerful need that?” the Seer asked.

“It is not difficult to understand: money, power, and glory. All this relies on vanity, ambition, different insecurities, and sometimes just boredom and passion,” the Stranger answered quickly. “Why is it allowed? There might be many traps along the path; it is a kind of preparation for those who are willing to enter the world of peace and justice.”

“Then it means that confrontation with the powerful people of the world, diseases, and vices are just a race track which makes spiritual people stronger? And by the way, this training is to get ready for the war and not for peace,” it was long ago when the Seer discussed those topics, and therefore despite tension in the air, was glad to have these visitors.

“It's bad that not all arrive at the finish line. And there are cases when you have to run to a certain point as there you will get your reward. You know, in order to run you have to move your legs faster. You buy a simulator, move, sweat, get exhausted, but are running in the place. People have the right to choose their way while they often serve some silly and unworthy things. They sweat as if they were running with a simulator, but senselessly. It is their choice and we do not care about it, do we? But others suffer from their actions and not all are protected against the evil,” the Stranger seemed that his fate was hanging in the balance during the conversation.

The Seer was trying to recollect something.

“My camp experience proves that most people cannot withstand trials, and will break physically and morally and become inferior people. I don’t understand who might need that. I have been observing ants the other day,” he said as if turning it in his mind.

“They labored, hurried, stumbled against each other. A boy ran up to them and caught the first ant on the way. The kid tore off an ant foot and threw the wretched fellow away. He placed another on his palm and blew. The ant was off. While the boy was experimenting, I didn’t tell him anything. Let him explore the world, however cruel the method might be, but when the brat started to stamp ants with his feet I interfered as his unreasonable actions disturbed the natural balance. The struggle for survival ended long ago, the territory was divided. Observe co-existence of creatures in the world. The boy didn’t know that, was offended and ran away. He even didn’t understand why it was wrong to be so cruel to living creatures and I didn’t have time to explain him that. But the thing is the ants didn’t understand anything either and continued their ant routine as before. They didn’t and couldn’t understand the service I rendered rescuing them from the boy.”

“Who is this boy?”

“Boys are capable of anything. At least they have strength to tear off feet and blow off from the palm.”

The Seer was attentively watching the Stranger’s reaction.

“Listen:

If I remember it

And my memory doesn’t sleep,

They are creators

Of the world

They do not believe

Or never cry…

…They seem to care for nothing

Captains of heaven,

Smoking in the open window

And leading by bad example…”

The Stranger laughed.

“Is this the source of your philosophy? Do you believe that the authorship of such a complex world belongs to those who do not know its laws? Those who make harm and lead astray?”

“I don’t know, I think not,” the Seer scratched the tip of the nose.

“But I think they exist. We are ants for them. These creatures might know nothing about compassion, cannot feel it, but they are much stronger and more experienced than we are. They have their own goals and objectives. They can use you in their own interests to no one’s benefit.”

The Stranger thought the Seer was not sincere and was playing cat and mouse challenging him.

“Ok,” the Stranger smiled with the edges of his lips going up. He understood that the Seer could not believe he could think critically. “I know about the existence of the other world. I can sometimes feel their presence. Do you think I will have to encounter them in the City?”

“I’m not sure you need a special place, but it is dangerous for you in the City,” the Seer answered and stretched a hand to fetch another cigarette.

The Stranger came up to the window and looked at a well-kept orchard with fruit trees. With his back to the Seer, he asked him the most important question:

“Have you felt the Power in me? What is it? Why do I have it?”

The Seer smoked again, was silent for several minutes. He was smoking with his eyes closed, without looking at ash falling down onto his knees, and spoke without looking at the Stranger:

“I will be honest. I have never encountered similar energy before. You are unlikely to use it to suppress people. There are other more known, simpler and no less efficient means. Certainly, this power can be used to protect against all energy impacts and even more: attack. But you won't search people who have special energy. No? That’s what I have thought. And there are not many people who use their talent to make evil and so it means we have no one to fight … This might be a weapon but many-sided and very complex. A sword and a shield at the same time and God know what else. At first I thought I had something which could not be put in practice in our life. That happens. Believe me! I have faced different people, even the ones who could burn paper with their eyes from a distance of five steps. And? Who needs this when there are affordable means to make fire? I don't have information to answer. You have to tell me more.”

The Stranger sighed feeling that the Seer was suspiciously interested. Rather, he thought he should not open the reason that made the Wind appear.

“I don’t know why but I can’t.”

Suddenly the Seer looked rough.

“I understand that you do not trust me. You fear that learning the mechanism, I will deprive you of your protection. Or – more than that, acquire your ability and then you will not be the unique holder of the talent. I won’t dissuade you but let me just note that it is dangerous both for you and others not to know the purpose of this complex weapon. You can’t even use it at your discretion. This power shows by itself. Believe me, I’m not weak and have seen much, but I have felt uncomfortable and miserable and frightened when you showed your power. I don’t know yet who controls whom: you it or it you,” the Seer seemed to become tense trying hard not to lose control.

“I’m not going to fight flesh and blood. Calm down, I beg you,” the Stranger was visibly afflicted.

“Do not calm me down. I don’t know how I can help you. Maybe you need money?” the Seer tried to look calm and self-assured. “I can see that you are not rich.”

“Thank you. Money will not help,” the Stranger viewed the walls covered with expensive trinkets and looked at the host merrily. “You have much to be proud of. You have a beautiful and large house. You seem to have everything to live a happy life but you are unhappy. You have strong eyes but look like a hunted down wolf. I wanted to go to the City with you. I think we will meet something important there and you may be interested to know something new and unknown.”

“I'm sorry,” the wounded Seer answered coldly. A prick aimed at his guest turned against himself, “but I’m not so inquisitive to risk all for something unknown. Moreover, I can’t show up in public places, especially in the City. I have too many enemies who want to become a history by sharing in my glory, who want to test me and hide behind me. I can’t. I won’t advise you to do this either and, even more so, to your silent friend. You can always come to me and I will do my best to help you. I wish you all the best.”

The Stranger got up from his armchair and stretched his hand. The Seer answered sluggishly without looking his guest in the eyes.

Companions left the house, walked along an even path in the garden to the gate. The Soldier sighed with relief:

“Good house, nice women, lots of money, and glory. How can he leave all that and go for something unknown? The wealthy find it hard to risk,” he said seriously but smirk showed in his eyes.

“Maybe. I have nothing to hold to in this world and the same is true about you, but still, have you heard his advice? Don’t go to the City. I regret I let you in,” the Stranger said.

“You don't know what is going on in the City,” spoke the Soldier impulsively. “There are absolutely autonomous neighborhoods. Police fears to go there because there are no strangers from outside and you are an enemy for them. So many disturbing orders have appeared lately! I don’t advise you to interfere with them, they hate outsiders. They won't speak with the representatives of other religions.”

“I'm far from the religious representatives or communities, but I'm close to the people of spirit,” the Stranger interrupted him.

“And what's the difference?” the Soldier was surprised.

“The clergy serve a certain cult, their community, and their flock. But the people of spirit serve the Truth which is above any religion or cultural and national traditions,” the Stranger explained.

“I think it will be hard to explain to an enraged crowd. Teenager gangs are active in the City as vagrant dogs. They are merciless drug- addicts who lost their human dignity. Let’s go together. I have decided to quit my job. I have a professional breakdown,” the Soldier smiled.

“Good,” the Stranger was unexpectedly fast to accept the proposal. “Let's do like this: a day after tomorrow at about eight in the morning we meet at the ticket office at the railway station. If you don't come, it means you have thought twice. I will understand it.”

“And if you don't come?”

“Then you stay.”

They shook their hands firmly and went their ways. The Soldier left for his home and the Stranger went to the park, as it was not cold at that time.

Next morning the Soldier was making his decision, which was probably the most important one in all his life. “Maybe I stay; the Seer’s advice cannot be ignored. I will live a normal life. Stop battling and find a normal job. Every morning I will wake up with the woman I love, have kids. That's what happiness is about…

You are lying, boy! You know yourself. You won’t live a life without a sense of danger. That’s how many people live and I have a chance to do something important. I have touched magic. The Stranger has found me and I have met the legend: the Seer himself. And he was afraid of the Stranger. I saw fear in his horrifying eyes. I have a chance to become a companion of the man whom the Seer himself bowed to.

What do I have to lose? How many years have I taken the risk? And what for? Destroy terrorists? But they grow in numbers every day. No, I take risk because I do not like to lead a dull life. I enjoy risk, I like to feel that I’m one of the elite, and top rulers of the country know about me. Reports on completed operations find their way to their desk. Maybe they admire me.

But I saw the light… My feats turned out to be the fruit of vanity. I happen to be no warrior of the light but a bolt in the government vehicle flying down the slope as it does not have brakes. I will become a real warrior if I follow the God’s will. I have fought someone other’s and senseless war. And now I want to fight for Him. He rescued me and consoled me in His church. I owe Him my life. The God saved me. Was not it for this time? And now time has come to act. By the way, why did the Stranger appoint a meeting in two days? He was anxious to get to the City. Something is wrong here. I need to lay in ambush at the railway station and wait. He might decide to go earlier without me.”

Chapter 6. The Liquidator

After his guests had left, the Seer was lingering about the house aimlessly, came out into the garden, looked at trees, and smelt leaves. Having calmed down, he returned to his study and contemplated. The Seer had travelled all over the world, met people with almost fantastical abilities, but he had never seen such universal specialists as himself. He mastered telepathy, could hypnotize with his thoughts, read texts with his eyes closed, find hidden objects, lost people, shared the past in detail, never made a mistake in forecasts. However, even he did not have the power his recent guest had. It was something to think about.

“Something extraordinary is underway. It needs investigation and the sooner the better. Maybe it is necessary to prevent them from entering the City or vice versa help them. What is their purpose? Well, they don’t know that themselves.”

The Seer took out a cigarette and smoked. He tried to quit this vicious habit many times and did not have the right stimulus as he thought he knew what he would die of.

“First, who are they?” he contemplated. “They haven't introduced themselves. I don’t think their names will tell me anything. Let’s start with the silent one. What can be said about him? Slightly taller than the average, strong-built, but his muscles are trained in a natural way by many hours of trainings: he is too sinewy, lean, strong, and agile. His movements are very well coordinated and judging by his gestures, quick response, he moves cautiously and has a well-developed side vision. Is he an athlete? No, he is not an athlete; he smokes and is not young. He is at least thirty five. He kept silent all the time and tried to understand what we were talking about and wasn't catching flies. Stop! He sighed when we mentioned intelligence agencies. Is he a military?” the Seer asked listening to himself. “Yes. He is related to the army but he is not a professional Soldier. Ok, deduction and logic aside, I’m not a detective. Let’s go directly to conclusions.”

The Seer concentrated tuning on to the image of the silent man. He had a chain of associations: a crying and physically impaired boy, a teenager vehemently beating a suspended sack with his hands and feet, a young man in a military uniform shooting from a rifle. “He is not shooting at aims. He fought. Drills, drills,” repeated the Seer. “Uneasy training, absolutely closed institution, but not for me; now I will see what they are studying… A gym. Smells of blood, sweat, or something else, oh… that’s adrenaline. Full-contact fight, no protective gear. Why do they mutilate each other? Can fists play a decisive role in a modern battle where they fight with rifles striking the aim at a five-kilometer distance?”

The Seer was thinking. He was interested. “I see,” he said out loud. “It’s a stamina test. Those who withstand will work further. Lectures. Read by civilians: survival tactics, methods of killing, and camouflage. An optic rifle. It's clear what he has been taught. He is a liquidator and probably one of the best. Ok. What next?”

The Seer cringed in his armchair and continued, “Assignments? No need to be a clairvoyant to understand. First tasks in the group, then with a companion, and single tasks for several years. It's strange: single-man liquidation operations are not a normal practice. Why does he leave and return single? Why?”

The Seer got up from the armchair, nervously paced the room, stopped at the window and closed his eyes. “The liquidator’s partners perished. He is followed by death but it does not touch him.” He saw shelling: lumps of earth flow up in the air with pieces of flesh. Soldiers wailed and whined of fear. Even those who did not believe in God were praying. Young guys virtually sank their teeth in wobbling earth. Explosions smothered weeping and yelling. All died but one. “He survived when all were to be mutilated after that slaughter. Good luck? But it happened on a dozen of occasions and that means a regular pattern. He is dangerous, very dangerous.”

Chapter 7. The Medium

The Stranger had long dreamed of meeting the Seer. He had many questions he wanted to discuss, but still the meeting left a painful impression. Of course, the Seer is neither an evildoer nor the son of darkness as he was described by priests, but he did not have inner light bestowing hope and inward peace, either. A searching, strong and at the same time twitchy person. And his eyes, although strong, are unhappy.

“What is happening?” the Stranger was asking himself. “Why did I meet the Seer? Did I hope he would join us? Very unlikely. I have never seen a like-minded person in him before. But the Soldier is not my brethren either, but he followed me. The Seer possesses a rare talent but he doesn’t use it to explore the basics and laws of the universe. He seems to believe in the Creator but he is not searching for Him and does not try to understand His will. If he doesn’t want to preach, he could at least tell the whole world what is true, what in the sacred books comes from the Source of the Truth and what has been added and distorted. I can also detect something. I do this for myself but first, no one will believe me and second ‘something’ is not enough, we don’t have the right to a mistake there. But they won't believe him, either. Those who worship the sacred books do not respect the Seer and they won’t listen to him. He tried to make me understand four things. First, it is not known who made me go to the City. Second, the purpose of the power inside me is unknown. Third, I can find something unusual in the City. Fourth, the Soldier will encounter a deadly danger in the City. The last must be the most important one. I need to go away without the Soldier, it’s a pity but that’s best for him.”

These were the Stranger's thoughts when he was slowly plodding towards the park: he was used to stay overnight in caves, on the seashore, and in gardens. He had little money and had to save it for an emergency.

Suddenly he felt a stare at his back. He turned sharply and saw a woman’s silhouette about twenty paces off. A Wind breeze strengthened him and gave him confidence. He slowly approached the woman. She was staring tensely in his face and above his head. The woman made several gestures with her hand as if groping for something invisible. Coming up closer he saw how beautiful she was. His heart beat hard.

The Stranger started to drown in her hot black eyes; he almost stopped short of breath: he loved that beauty alluring and unwelcoming, unapproachable and dangerous, but he was strong enough to rouse himself.

“Look into her and feel what she lives with,” the Stranger came to his senses, the Wind breath, that disappeared when his heart leaped, returned. He recognized her. No, he had never met her before, but he knew her from newspapers.

“Do you want something from me? Have you followed me from the Seer’s home?” the Stranger addressed her without a traditional greeting.

“I’m Medium,” she said quietly and meaningfully. “I live in the City, came to the Seer, but when I saw you and your friend I got interested in you, especially in you.”

The Stranger felt that the encounter was not accidental and decided to check at once.

“I must go to the City. Is your flat big? Will you give me shelter?”

The Medium met different people, some of whom happened to be very extraordinary, and therefore she ignored the question and continued:

“Have you heard about me?”

“Very little. I'm sorry I usually do not circulate among the people who talk to the other world.”

“Then you have a chance to expand your horizon,” the Medium said haughtily. “Why do you need the City? Normal people, to the contrary, are leaving it now.”

“Normal people…” the Stranger repeated sadly and his face was touched by a shadow,

“I don’t know but I must.”

“Then let’s not waste time. Come to my place,” the woman liked that man who was simple and complex at the same time, and she was drawn by controversies.

“No. Let’s go tomorrow morning, I need to sleep well. I haven’t slept two nights, and I will need to be strong in the City. Stay a night in the hotel. But I don’t have money for two separate rooms, let’s book one with twin beds or you book for yourself. But for the sake of saving, you can stay a night with the Seer. Sorry, I’m not so gallant.”

“I have enough to book all rooms, but I want to be closer to you,” she looked mischievous.

Talking and taking no heed of the time, they approached the hotel.

In the room, having enjoyed a shower, the Stranger blissfully stretched on a soft bed, but couldn’t fall asleep next to beautiful woman because of excitement. He tried to instill in himself the sense of a light and pleasant breeze. He became less tense with time. Listening to a monotonous and lulling play of waves, the Stranger fell asleep. The Medium was sitting in the armchair with her legs pulled up. She felt good besides him, calm and peaceful. “I would enjoy looking at him all my life,” she thought.

The Medium earned by fortunetelling and chiromancy. She told fortune in the state of a trance. But after the Seer insisted she does not change her consciousness at own will, she did it quite rarely. She treated the sick that could not be treated by traditional methods.

But she achieved the top or depth of her performance (here opinions differed) when she talked with the world of the dead. Unhappy people who lost their dear ones but could not accept the loss came to her and wished to speak with the deceased dear ones. The Medium asked the relative to give her an object of the dead or a printed photo, but not an electronic version, built a connecting channel between the object and the soul, tuned on to the image of the dead, saw contours, told about the life and habits and sometimes the last days in the body and transmitted the will or desires of the dead.

Lately, she has achieved the level of authority so high that she stopped speaking on TV, rejected interview requests and selected her visitors as she wished. She usually refused to see low-income people unless she considered the case especially interesting, although she had used to be a timid and shy girl willing to help. Fame changed her; she became haughty, proud, and obstinate: the symptoms of the star fever that the Seer, who had seen ups and downs in his life, despised. But that recent arrogance might have been a kind of a protection. The Medium was attacked by the representatives of religious orders who condemned her and continuously threatened her with punishment, but she ignored their threats and did not hire a bodyguard.

The Medium was lonely, she could not live with a man who would be weaker than she was, and could lower her head only before the Seer who treated her tenderly but patronizingly. It irritated her, tortured, and piqued, however she considered no other man more worthy than the Seer. Now she wanted just one thing: to be with the sleeping man, cuddle up to him, and there come what may. Jump in feet first.

She felt she had known him for ages. They might have met in their previous life and that happiness and joy when she saw an unknown man might be a kind of recognition of kindred. She was surprised most of all by unusual glow above his head which either appeared or disappeared. He radiated calmness and strength but his companion was a source of danger, and the Medium saw a fiery halo above him, which was inseparable from the people who had shed much blood. That was the halo of a cruel warrior, although the man did not look like an evildoer or a criminal.

The aura of the pleasant stranger whose name she had forgotten to ask was not very remarkable by itself: usually seen among believers and religious people. The Medium treated them without any respect. She respected certain ceremonies in church as well as other magical actions and even used some religious practices: read extracts from sacred books, showed religious symbols, talismans, images of saints. She thought that it was also magic, although religious but had value for her only when they contributed to her efforts.

She got up and came up to the bed where the Stranger was sleeping, sat down, took his hand tenderly and looked at the lines on the palm. Suddenly without opening his eyes, he grasped her palm, pulled it her cheek and held it there during several seconds.

“I'm sorry,” the Stranger said letting her palm go. “I haven’t had a woman for a long time; it was an uncontrolled reflex to the girl’s fingers. Good night, medium,” he said her name separating it into two words.

The woman’s eyes sparkled with rage, she was quick-tempered as most of representatives of her profession which demanded very intense nervous strain. She got up quickly and left the room slamming the door.

“A hot woman,” the Stranger sighed and settled down into sleep.

Chapter 8. Anomaly

After another cigarette, the Seer felt ready to get an insight in his recent strange visitor.

“He looks like an ordinary believer, you can feel this speaking with him and by the way he’s glanced at my seductive servant, but he is not an adept of a religious community. Possessing such energy, anyone would insist he is guided by the godly power and by the spirit of God’s ancient chosen ones and would have found a way to use the talent to the benefit of his organization or personal career development. Ok, it means he acts by himself. Such loners are harder to understand. And what if his actions are guided by a real power? Showing up, such people are precursors of disasters and catastrophes. It is difficult to understand his aim. And what's the use? I’ve felt the impact of his power. Fear and weakness are engulfing gradually but ruthlessly. To be fair, the man did not wish me evil, stopped on time, although it must have been hard to contain a flow of power. Hence, it can be controlled? I wonder whether his companion felt this energy. The power was against me and that was strange, as I did not show aggression. I didn’t press on him. I just slightly explored him, scanned his thoughts, a normal desire. Can it be that an evil mask of the ancient god of war woke something? Strange. How can such trinkets impact? May his power show associatively? So, a believer who abides by peace principles. A rare case in our times. However, any pacifism has limits. Pacifist with a deadly weapon? Maybe that’s why he is a pacifist? Or has he received it because he is a pacifist? Good intuition but nothing outstanding. The most important is the power. Others think the right question is a half-answered question, but for me it is almost an answer. Is this power independent?”

It seems to be easy: yes or no. But the Seer could not give any answer and said out loud:

“What's the matter? An inexact question?”

He listened to himself. Missed again. He lacked information.

“Does this power manifest itself at the will of its holder? The guest seemed to have intentionally held back the information on how it was the first time. This must be the key. When I assumed that the power was a kind of a weapon, he agreed. Still, the guest knows little about this himself. Let’s think more. Can this power treat? Not so unambiguous. Does it treat some diseases? Seems like that. Yes, surely yes!”

Irritation passed and the Seer was inspired and decided he was approaching the solution. “What illnesses?” He asked out loud. He closed his eyes. At that moment, he saw as if highlighted on the virtual display the words ‘mental disorders’ and cried out, “I have it!” He extracted the word ‘obsession’ from list. “So, this energy can be used to treat from obsession, can’t it? Exorcist? But he is not a priest. Who will go to him? Will he be hired in the mental house? Will he treat with his power? Use words to drive out demons? Ok, no one will employ him; rather make him a patient in the clinic. Doctors do not believe in demons. Will he frighten obsessed priests? Very unlikely. He is not this kind. Only in case of an accidental encounter when his power will manifest all by itself. Ok, how many charismatic priests are there?”

The Seer knew that there were two kinds of obsession. Ancient books described godly obsession with bright knowledge, prophesy, genial ideas, and prophetic dreams. Even poetry is a kind of liberation from the mind and subconscious connection to another source above human experience.

But there existed destructive obsession: passion, suicide, violence, and homicide. “Sick people think they contain someone who directs them, and there is an impression there is an anomaly which changes their identity. I think there is no anomaly. A split personality or substitution must be related to the subconscious of the sick, and it is activated under impact of special and unusual circumstances, including fear, stress, alcohol, and drugs. Most even don’t suspect what might happen.”

However, the word ‘anomaly’ made the Seer uneasy….

Chapter 9. Soul rotation

The Medium went down the hotel lounge, came up to the bar counter, and ordered a cognac, cheese, and olives. She wanted to unwind a bit. She was still drinking cognac when she saw a young man with a clouded glance, but dressed in the latest young fashion.

“What can I bring you?” he asked freely.

“If you are a waiter, get lost,” the Medium proposed with expressed scorn.

“Me? You don’t know who I am?” said the guy through clenched teeth filling with rage.

“Now, let’s see who you are,” she sharply grasped the man by his palm and attentively surveyed the life and destiny lines.

“You were born in a poor family,” the Medium started to speak. She felt inspiration and anger. “You fell ill often, nearly drowned, was rescued at the last moment and maybe they shouldn’t have done that. Why do we rescue villains? You have never done anything good. You have never married and never will. Your father has died recently, but you have mother and sister. Three or four years ago you received a large sum of money; either won it or received it as a gift because you were only good enough to have a dose and a couple of prostitutes. But this money is meant to kill you. You have little time left. Very little.”

The man was suddenly pale, he seemed to be shocked. He turned his head around trying to become sober but did not succeed.

“H… how many years do I have left?” he asked stumbling.

“About a year, no more. Look at yourself: you are a goner,” the Medium answered indifferently.

The young man took out a small box from his pocket, poured out powder directly onto the bar counter, divided it into two strips, took out a banknote, placed it at his nostril, quickly inhaled white dust, shuddered, blinked, noisily exhaled and smiling angrily winked at the prophetess.

“You won’t die of sinus trouble,” the Medium said and drank her cognac in one gulp. She felt no pity for the man. That was strange: several years ago she would feel compassion, give advice what to do to change the effects of the choice.

She went up to the room, quietly opened the door, and smiled seeing a sleeping man. She certainly liked him. She fetched a packet of cigarettes, went to the balcony, closed the door tight, sat on the floor, and smoked. She was not able to relax or get away from the thoughts about her new acquaintance:

“An interesting story. Who is the man? Why have I come after him? What does he need in the City? A strange halo, which either appears or disappears? There are various energy clusters above a person, especially above seriously ill people, they can be used to determine if the person will die or live. But he has totally different light above, it seems to be alive and emit power. Unclear. It seems I have known him long. May this be the experience of previous lives? It happens when you meet someone and seem to know everything about him, although you met just five minutes ago. But the most interesting thing is that I liked him from the very beginning. That feels strange. Have I fallen in love? Crap! Though…”

The door to the balcony opened.

“Hope I won’t disturb you?” the subject of her thoughts whispered.

“No. On the contrary. I’m bored. Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“Because I have woken up.”

“Shall we speak?”

“Yes.”

“What is your name?”

“The Stranger.”

“Pilgrim?”

“Possibly.”

“Why have you visited the Seer?”

“To speak,” the Stranger answered concisely.

“And?” the Medium drew down cigarette smoke.

“We spoke.”

“What do you want in the City?” the woman moved very close to him.

“I don’t know yet,” he whispered mysteriously.

“Have you been sent to the City?” she asked pointing out to the night sky with a cigarette spark.

“Exactly.”

“Who?”

The Stranger sighed. He was joking and laughing at anything but the God.

“I hope, the Creator,” he sounded a bit detached. “But the Seer doubts it.”

“Why?” the Medium grew wary.

“He believes the voice is not a sufficient reason to follow.”

“And what do you think?” the woman repeated.

“Time has come,” he inhaled air mixed with cigarette smoke.

“What for?” she threw out the butt from the balcony.

“I hope it is for something important.”

“And this important is in the City, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” the Stranger felt good beside that woman. He could speak up about what bothered him most.

“It happens. I have a persistent feeling that I have known you for a long time. Maybe we met in the previous life and maybe more than that,” she looked in his eyes boldly.

“This would be possible if you were a woman and I was a man,” the Stranger smiled. “I don’t believe in previous lives. Although I know that almost all religions accept the soul rotation doctrine. Once I had to live with one tribe and study its religion and customs. The soul rotation doctrine is the most important religious principle of the community. I saw a child who told me in detail about the life of a warrior in the tribe killed in a battle, although he had died several months before the birth of the boy. I spoke with the boy and checked everything, the child made almost no mistakes, he shared even the intimate details no one but the wife of the deceased could know. Isn’t it proof of the soul rotation? But it is incorrect to take into account only one version.”

“Do you think the child was playing a role?” the Medium grinned.

“Absolutely impossible.”

“What's the problem then?”

“The three-year old boy knew not only the deceased but other people living and dead. The child was your kin. That explains much. The chiefs used him and showed magic to reinforce religious principles and their authority to have no barriers to lead the community and send warriors to fight without fear for their life. Some think that after death of the body the soul is inseparably connected with another body and resuscitates it. Others believe that only kind souls are immortal and only the souls of kind people can have another life in other bodies, and evil ones should are foredoomed to agony. The God bestows the right to be born again upon those who adhere by commandments. There is an opinion that evil people will live a life filled with suffering in the bodies of unhappy people or animals. I can accept that in rare cases a soul can have a new life in another body. The God can do anything, even if it seems senseless. But if we didn’t remember what was happening in the previous life, how would we understand the lesson and find out what has to be changed in ourselves? Here and now we have enough lessons and signs to understand our steps and correct something. Of course, it is easy to understand the misfortunes of this life by the mistakes made in the previous one. It is an attractive and easy way to go for modern theologians, but an easy way does not mean the right one! Ancient theologians who came not only to console the Sufferer but also to condemn him in his crimes and justify the divine justice never told him, ‘Be patient, brother, you are paying for the crimes you have committed in past life.’ They did not think of the soul rotation doctrine,” the Stranger explained calmly.

“You are not right,” the Medium said irritated. “There are different kinds of embodiment and it does not necessarily mean settling in human bodies, but this is not for everyone. The spiritual world is very complex. In order to see it, you need to be either born a seer or learn to see. You say we don’t remember our previous bodies, but it is not necessary. We must learn to feel and follow our feelings. The soul doesn’t think, it recollects and feels. The pang of conscience, intuitive knowledge of the good and the bad and even hazard, fears or, to the contrary, joys, these are indistinct memories… and lessons from previous life. The soul embedded in the body tries to save or respectfully withstand a severe and horrible trial. This is what it is for. But it is enslaved by our mind and suffers. We are weighed down by much going around and do not listen to the voice. We don’t find harmony between the soul and mind.”

“This is your imagination, illusionary worlds which you instill with power and make real,” the Stranger muttered. “Well, if you tune on to the Source of Knowledge, you will see anything and won’t be able to tell the reality from imagination. There might be no distinct border in between.”

“I’m not going to argue. You are very conservative, but you are a curious man. You are unlike others,” the Medium looked at him tenderly and said affectionately, “I have seen a strange light above your head and it wasn’t a halo. Do you know what it is?”

The Stranger suddenly felt light tongues of the Wind.

“Can you see it now?” he asked and the Medium looked narrowly at him.

“Yes, I can see it now,” she looked in the companion’s eyes and saw an unknown glance, which emitted power. She felt uncomfortable. “Your eyes! What is wrong with your eyes?” she exclaimed and continued to peer at him frightened.

“Nothing threatens you,” the Stranger said detachedly and the woman thought that the light above his head became brighter. “It is the Wind. He is my friend. I can see that you are connected with some energies and forces. As soon as they show they can arouse the Wind to act against them and touch you. If possible, do not try to summon spirits in my presence and don’t do anything extraordinary.”

“Is it bad?” the Medium lowered her head. She did not want to listen to another challenge to her abilities.

“It is also knowledge, but the source of this knowledge is doubtful. In any case, a person will not benefit from this. But I know very little about this,” the Stranger did not want to hurt the woman.

“That’s how I was born. I have a talent,” it was important for her to justify herself.

“I’m not your judge, but they can use you. It is dangerous.”

“But no, I’m using them. That’s how I earn my bread,” the Medium smiled.

“There are different energies which cannot be seen to normal eyes. You might see more. Animals see in a totally different system. Microscope, telescope, or X-ray can be used to see something inaccessible to human eyes. Such people as you or the Seer can see something that cannot be seen through these devices. But no talent gives access to the country of justice,” the Stranger tried to speak as soft as possible.

The woman was almost on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and despite external confidence could hardly keep control.

“And what will?”

“Our endeavors, acts, and belief.”

“Do you believe in the country of justice? Where is it? Over there?”

The Medium pointed her finger at stars.

“It is somewhere, far away and nearby at the same time. It might reach the Earth,” the Stranger was silent and then added: “someday.”

“Ok,” the woman nodded eagerly. “It’s a pity we won’t see that.”

“I won’t live to these days and I won’t see the time when my songs are needed… If the Creator so wishes, He can shift our substance to another medium. Do you copy important information from your computer to discs?”

“I don’t copy all information to other media.”

The Stranger nodded and sighed heavily:

“I’m afraid you are not the only one who does like that.”

“That’s personification of the soul,” she found it hard to smile.

“There are heavenly shells and earthly ones…” the Stranger sank into reverie.

Silence set in. The woman seemed to be fighting a thought. Breathing out, the Medium made a decision.

“Do you want to sleep with me?” she asked sharply, even without looking in his direction.

The Stranger did not expect such a straightforward question and could not keep from smiling.

“Do you, magicians and enchanters, usually reinforce heart-to-heart talks with sex?”

“Well, no, but sex is the easiest way to get to know a person and you are a riddle to me,” she looked up at him with her fiery eyes.

“Then let’s postpone the learning process,” the Stranger grinned. “I fear to disappoint you when you get to know me. You may deprive me of your hospitality in the City and that would be quite an unhappy occasion.”

The woman smiled, looked at the Stranger playfully and thought: “And he does want me, I can see that.”

The Medium went to the bathroom. She came after shower, completely naked, demonstrating her splendid figure, proudly passed the man, languidly sighed and lay down on her bed and did not cover herself with the blanket.

“There is a draught, you’ll catch cold,” he said yawning.

“Maybe, you are not interested in women, aren’t you? Anyone in your place will be sitting at my feet.”

“I’m not anyone. I thought you could see that. The strong differ from the weak not by lack of desire, but by the ability to manage and control, they know the reason to hold their passions. We had a nice talk,” said the Stranger through his teeth and turned to another side.

The woman could not go to sleep. She rolled herself up in a sheet, went out to the balcony again, and smoked.

“Can I ask you a question?” the Stranger could not go to sleep either.

“Sure.”

“Why do you both smoke so much?”

“Who both?” the Medium asked to clarify.

“You and the Seer. If you are able to see, you must know what harm it makes.”

“As far as I know, the Seer cannot quit smoking.”

“Why?”

“After his leg was crushed in the death camp, he experienced heavy depression. Have you heard about this time?”

“I have, and about a wonderful escape from the camp, too. Despite his mutilated leg, he hypnotized security guards and escaped.”

“Yes, he escaped, crossed the border, returned home, did not see anyone for several months and even did not leave home. He was fed almost from a spoon. His power can break anyone, but he himself is weak and spleeny.”

The Stranger was silent for some time.

“I think you haven’t understood. He didn’t worry about his leg or agonies in the death camp. I think he felt something was wrong. He saw imminent danger, knew he was chased and still could not avoid getting into the hands of his pursuers. And then he saw: there was something stronger than him, understood there were rules even he couldn’t change. He experienced a withdrawal syndrome and that was the most difficult as it meant loss of self-confidence.”

The Medium came up to the Stranger and sat beside him.

“I have bad premonitions, I have been anxious for several weeks. I have come to speak with the Seer. Maybe he understands what is going on with me,” the woman took the Stranger by his hand.

“You are not the only one; all of us feel like that. We are on the threshold of amazing events and I think I will learn something important in the City. I’m drawn there as if by a magnet.”

“A call?”

“This is vampire terminology. More likely, a mission. I hope, it is a mission,” the Stranger softly removed her palm and went to the balcony.

“Do you enjoy looking in the sky?” the woman followed him.

“I sometimes think that the sky is looking at me, inviting me to be its guest. It illuminates the way by the stars and the Moon. You think that I’ve decided I’m someone very special, don’t you?”

“I don’t think so,” the Medium interrupted him. “I believe that you can do much. But I can see how the air condenses above you. Has the Seer warned you of an imminent danger?”

“He warned my comrade.”

“I’ve seen him. I don’t like him. I strongly don’t like him. I don't understand what you might have in common with a man like that.”

“You don’t know him. He, like many others living in the time of troubles, has another attitude to life and death.”

“Could you have made a mistake with the choice of a companion?”

“We’ll see when time comes. Let’s go to bed. Tomorrow will be a tough day.”

Chapter 10. A favor for a favor

The Seer could not get to sleep. Anxious thoughts prevented him from relaxing or getting the story out of his mind. He thought he should take some action, influence the situation, although it was not typical for him to interfere with anything not directly related to him.

“Ok, suppose, there is an anomaly in the City, and a man capable of fighting it shows up. He hears a voice, commanding him to go to the City. Tries to build a team, or?..” the Seer winced. “No. They are not friends and barely know each other. Mobilized a liquidation specialist. Wanted to employ me. Funny guy. They probably go to fight. But against whom? Magicians and sorcerers? Is a black magic conference planned in the City? Most likely, no. So, what’s the anomaly?” the Seer tried to concentrate. “No. Nothing fits. Maybe there is no anomaly in the City, and this man, call him the Eccentric, has power which is activated in case of….” the Seer rubbed his forehead and said at hazard: “emotional shake up of the holder. A memory of the great events of the past, history of the City can provoke an outburst of energy in the Eccentric. A mechanism was activated for some reason and he decided he could use his ability in the City. Ok. But why does he need the Liquidator? He could feel he needed a battle tactics specialist. So, is the Eccentric dangerous? What happens if he wanders around the City. Although there are places where you better avoid. Well, it’s not our problem, he is not a small boy, and he will sort it out. And what if he loses control over his energy in the City, what will happen in this case? Can’t happen? Is it my imagination? But I have experienced the power of the Eccentric, and he found hard to suppress it and it nearly killed me. So, the best way is not to let him go to the City.”

This thought brought him relief and his spirits improved sharply. The Seer took a non-conventional decision to call his acquaintance, named the Functionary. Several years ago the Seer made him a great favor, and that was why he dialed the Functionary’s number without a twinge of conscience.

“Sorry for a night call, but my business is urgent. I hope you have recognized me?” the Seer’s voice was hard and insistent.

“Oh, that’s Ok,” the Functionary seemed to be awake. “Glad to hear you. When would you like to see me?”

“As soon as possible. And preferably at my place, if it is not inconvenient for you.”

Two hours later the Functionary was in the Seer’s kitchen drinking coffee.

“It is hard for me to explain the reason for asking your help,” the Seer started to speak. “I have a feeling that fulfillment of my request will benefit the country or at least postpone an imminent disaster.”

“I’m sure your request is lawful as you are the example of decency and humanism. Therefore it will be an honor to fulfill it,” said the Functionary in the most courteous way.

The Seer penetrated his thoughts: “What kind of a silly song is in his head? Oh… He knows that I can read thoughts and fills his head with bullshit, but I can feel his fear, distrust, and admiration, all mixed. They are strange these security officers.”

“There are two people who can escalate a conflict in the City where the situation is very tense as is,” the Seer came to the point. “They must be detained without violence: they are neither criminals, nor terrorists, nor rebels, but are law-abiding citizens. It is especially important to prevent one of them from entering the City.”

“Do they represent an organization?” the Functionary did not believe in the power of single warriors. Then why was it necessary to take a person so late at night to settle that trifle business?

“I wouldn’t disturb you if they were trifles,” the Seer said strictly. “I don’t know who they are related to, but I assure you it is a serious matter.”

“Ok, I’ll do my best. I need at least some information.”

“Here are their photographs,” the Seer handed him out several images. Security cameras near his house on the gate and door took pictures of the Stranger and the Soldier. The Soldier's face was closed by a cap with a long peak though, but the Stranger’s face could be well seen from all views. “But I warn you, do not make them any harm. Let competent people do that. You can encounter surprises.”

He took out from the case a large envelope he had prepare earlier and handed it over to the Functionary.

“Take it. To cover business expenses.”

“Oh, no. I owe you so much,” imitating indignation the guest rejected money.

“It's for business and to pay bonuses to your people,” the Seer did not like when people were performing in his presence. “I don't want a report. I want a result. Believe, the task is not easy as it seems at first glance. These two people are not ordinary citizens. If you detain them, please do not send them to jail. Find a decent place with security. Then we’ll decide what is to be done with them.”

“Ok, sure,” the Functionary assured him. “I’ll do my best. We’ll find them.”

“It is not for me but for the country. We’ll keep in touch.”

The Functionary left the Seer’s home, climbed into his car, nervously opened the envelope, counted money and shone, “Still, the Seer is an outstanding man. We will find these people without his money.” He recollected four years ago when he met the Seer at one of the parties, the Seer was watching his wife attentively, then came up to him and confidingly whispered: “Your wife has cancer, at the initial stage so far, but if you don’t hurry, nothing will help.” The family was taken aback. She went through screenings, which showed that the woman really had the earliest signs of cancer. An operation was enough and no chemical treatment was necessary. Now she feels fine. Remembering this story, the Functionary was on the verge of tears but he did not think of returning money.

After the security man had left, the Seer felt heart-heaviness, his forehead was covered with cold sweat: “Maybe I was wrong to set on agents? What if they do harm to the Eccentric? I wouldn’t like that. It is not late to cancel everything. No, they won’t do harm. They won’t do harm,” he assured himself. “And if they let them go? Then it can be assumed the Eccentric is really led by someone. Whom do I act against? And generally, what do I care about all this?”

The Seer was strong, very clever, and far-sighted man but at the same time mistrustful and superstitious. He managed to combine two identities. One was the result of his talent: exceptionally strong and super confident in his power. The other was weak with the soul torn by doubts and loneliness. He built a good wall around himself no stranger would pass. The Seer did not wheedle before people with power and openly despised some of them seeing their cheap identities hidden behind expensive suits that smelt of rust that could not be offset by expensive perfumes.

He tried not to interfere when he faced something which did not fit in his picture of the world and avoided questions about the God, although he was sure the universe had own Constructor. He knew spiritual laws and tried not to violate them. But the Seer could not imagine the Creator, did not tune on that Source finding it was a senseless idea to learn the global idea of the Providence and a highly foolish task to study the nature of God by own mind and morals. He remembered the ancient people who simplified the Creator by their primitive speeches regarding His nature. The Seer thought that evolution of human mind would necessarily result in the creation of more complex theology.

Acting against recent guests, leveraging powerful people the Seer understood that he failed to follow his internal code. Moreover, he was frightened that he interfered with the course of events he could not understand.

Then still another thought depressed him: can the cause of his anxiety be in banal envy rather than care about the world?

“That can’t be true. Envy the Eccentric? I have everything and he has nothing. I have the rarest abilities no one else has. I can’t envy the Eccentric. It is impossible.”

Chapter 11 The First Victims

Next morning the Soldier was prepared to set out. He took a small rucksack with his belongings, several chocolate bars, a plastic water bottle, and tucked money in numerous pockets. He hailed a taxi at a distance from his house, even in the peacetime he followed elementary conspirator rules. Entering the railway station building, the Soldier attentively explored the halls, went up to the second floor, sat down near the window, and started to wait for the Stranger.

Half an hour later, two cars arrived at the railway station, and strong men in official but comfortable suits with short hair got out from the cars. One of them passed around photographs to agents. The Soldier could easily distinguish a security employee in one of them, became all ears and was able to read fragmented information that they were speaking about detention of two people. He distinctly felt danger, which was possible only in case of a real and not imaginary threat. He must at all costs see those photographs and if possible take hold of them. He instantaneously made up a simple plan. He bought a bottle of cheap vodka, went to the men’s room, rinsed his mouth with stinking liquid, wiped his face, and jauntily swinging the bottle, moved towards a strong guy who was carefully studying the photographs, standing near the ticket office.

“Look, buddy, we’ve served together. Let’s drink to sort of…” the Soldier addressed the agent and as if accidentally spilt vodka over an inexpensive but good quality suit of the agent.

The agent tried to push the ‘drunkard’ away, but the Soldier managed to read the blow direction by the movement of the shoulder, moved in the opposite direction, and seeming to lose his balance, grasped the man with a small headphone in the ear by the hand. And he saw that…

“Sorry, buddy. A mistake. Was contused. You are kid still, couldn’t have served with you,” the Soldier muttered without looking at him with his head lowered.

Another security agent was approaching.

“Cheers, man,” said the Soldier drunkenly, moving atilt with his bottle raised, and slowly moved toward the toilet, being fully certain that several pairs of distrustful eyes were looking at his back. Having rinsed his face with water, he took out his mobile. Found a necessary number from the list and called.

The Stranger woke up early in the morning and went to the balcony not to disturb the sleeping woman.

He startled when he heard his mobile phone ring but seeing the displayed number smiled, waited a second, and pressed the answer button.

“Hi. What’s happened?”

“They are waiting for us at the railway station. They have our photos. Where are you?”

“In the Tower. Come.”

The door swung open and two strong guys entered the toilet.

“Sobered up?” one of them addressed the Soldier.

They were gazing at him, these fighters ready to instantaneously attack. The agent took out photographs.

“Know them?”

The Soldier, peering in the photographs, shouted wildly:

“That’s my buddy, battled together. He was killed, my trusted friend, treacherously, in the back!”

Tears were running down his face. He recollected a real case from his life and tears were almost sincere. The agents did not expect the performance, were at a loss for several seconds, and relaxed. This was enough. The agents were not wearing safety vests and the Soldier sharply made an uppercut in the celiac plexus with the maximum strength allowed by his hip and shoulder, and hit the other one who did not have time to react with his right hand on the jaw. The security employee staggered, swayed and started to fall onto his back, but the Soldier caught him to prevent him breaking his back against the tiled floor. He unfastened handcuffs from the agents’ belt, cuffed their hands behind their backs fast and pushed them into a bathroom stall. Fetched the photographs and read their IDs.

“Breathe deeper, secret war warrior,” he said to the agent who was convulsively swallowing air.

The Soldier ignited toilet paper, threw it in the dustbin and left the toilet shouting: “Fire! All is on fire!” People panicked, a fire siren went off. He ran outside unnoticed in that turmoil and dived in a taxi.

About half an hour later he was greeted by the worried Stranger in the Tower hotel lounge.

“You look well in pictures,” the Soldier grinned slightly pointing at photograph.

“The Seer,” the Stranger drawled. “Why?”

“I didn’t want to go to him,” the Soldier reminded gloomily.

“Just think, he set agents on us. They were in ambush directly at the railway station. After I deprived them of the right to exclusively use our photos, the railway station is a taboo.”

“I hope you have killed or mutilated no one?” the Stranger did not find it funny.

“What if so!” the Soldier seemed to be mortally hurt. “I was insulted when I saw our photographs held by others. Maybe they decided to earn on our glory. It’s not good. I ask, by what right? I didn’t give permission to be shot. I made a scandal and they decided not to deal with me and returned the photographs without litigation.”

“You must write fairy tales! Remember, violence pays back. It’s not our way,” the Stranger said thoughtfully. “By the way the Seer can find the hotel. We have to leave.”

“Can the Seer find our location at any time?”

“I think yes. Wait here. I need to speed up someone.”

“Found one more companion?”

“A woman, living in the City. She’ll give us shelter,” the Stranger said going out.

The Soldier followed him with his eyes, “You would never tell he is this type by looking at him.”

The Stranger entered the room, sat down on the bed beside a sweetly wheezing woman.

“Time to wake up, sleeping beauty.”

“Sleeping beauties are kissed to wake up,” she muttered without opening her eyes.

“I’d love too, but you haven’t brushed your teeth,” the Stranger said moving away just in case.

“What?” the Medium jumped up pulling the blanket up.

“Well, no kiss and you are awake. My comrade has come. We have a small trouble. I’m waiting for you in the lounge. Just don’t be slow.”

Closing the door, he pressed against the wall: “I’m not in the City yet, and it has started. The Soldier used force to take away the photographs, most likely there are casualties. I don’t like that at all and it is going to be worse.” He wanted to quit and run away without looking back. Having prayed, he understood that desire was impermissible weakness and slowly went down to the lounge. The Soldier was standing near the window and looking at the road.