Traveler’s journal.

Traveler's Diary
1. A smart traveler doesn't drink.
I'm telling you about myself for the first time, so I don't even know where to begin. Probably with my name. Well yes, that would be quite logical. So, if anyone's interested, my name is Maksim Sinsky. I'm twenty-three years old, quite good-looking, with a fine body and above-average height — my mother always used to say so.
I lived and grew up, or so I thought, in the most ordinary of towns with a pleasant name — Raisky — and worried about nothing at all. A wonderful place: all the people were kind, friendly, and honest. Some said it was because of the harsh punishment for any bad or unlawful deed — a brutal murder carried out in front of everyone. But personally, I believe the truth is that every person's soul and mind are pure, free of sinful thoughts.
To tell the truth, I was sure that absolutely everyone lived this way, and I never even considered other possibilities. My father, though, kept saying I was too naive, and that it apparently couldn't be cured — which always hurt me deeply. But the time came when he'd had enough of it, and he decided to try opening my eyes to certain details that, according to him, were unwelcome in our town.
It turned out that our entire world consists of small towns, separated by no great distance, yet each with an utterly different way of life. You think that's a trifle? In a way you'd be right — any fool can see that our town isn't the only one, I always knew that. The trouble lay, rather, in the thought that absolutely every little town is a kind of mystical field that makes it unique. They all differ in climate, customs, laws, mentality, and many other details that shape everyday life. To put it plainly, according to my father, the world turned out to be a vast theatre, and each town could be called a separate stage, where everyone plays their part and is afraid of disrupting their familiar life. Even though the towns border one another, everywhere they try to limit contact and make do solely with the transport of goods.
The features common to all places, my father admitted, were a shared language that everyone spoke, and the currency. Absolutely everywhere, only coins bearing the image of a smiling jester on the obverse and a handshake on the reverse were accepted.
Naturally, all of this struck me as absurd. I took it for a prank and proposed a wager to my father: I'd go look at the other towns, and when I returned, I'd share observations that would prove his words wrong. To this he merely wished me luck, saying it was better to see the world than to live the way I did, gave me a symbolic sum of money to get by for a short while, and added that I should give his regards to his brother Philip, who had married and moved to the town of Listvenny.
I wasn't even stopped by my mother's tears — when she learned of my plan, she yelled at my father and literally begged me to abandon this foolish idea. But I wouldn't yield to persuasion, and she had to give in, though in her heart she never accepted my decision. My friends couldn't have cared less what I did with myself — it was honestly hurtful how little my fate concerned them. Only Marina, my best childhood friend whom I was counting on marrying once I became worthy of her, supported my undertaking and told me everything would be fine and she'd be glad to hear the story of my trip. She's the only one I'd already begun to miss.
The truth is, the argument with my father was merely a perfect excuse to set out on the road, because I was ready to do anything as long as I didn't have to work. And in our parts, idlers are not loved and are strictly punished. But leaving our borders was by no means forbidden — the only requirement was not to disgrace your native parts.
Thanks to the fact that everyone in our town is close-knit, Uncle Igor volunteered to take me to Wildwest. He often hauled his apples there for the local production. I was even curious what they made so tasty out of apples in that place. Maybe pies? The only downside was that we had to leave early in the morning, so no one besides my parents came to see me off.
I was all groomed and scrubbed, dressed in a black three-piece suit, shod in pretty patent-leather shoes. I can't say I was comfortable — rather, it was very hot (on the whole, I was puzzled that the weather outside had grown so hot in such a short time; I'd never felt such a sharp change of climate), but my mother insisted so persuasively that all decent people dressed exactly this way that I couldn't bring myself to resist.
So toward midday we arrived in a town unfamiliar to me, or more precisely at a small wooden house, beyond which, not far off, could be seen a multitude of larger wooden structures. Uncle Igor said this was the formal boundary between the towns.
Near this house I noticed three strange men in similar hats, sitting at a table next to the house, playing with some odd paper cards. They were dressed lighter and looser than I was. Two of them wore unbuttoned short-sleeved checkered shirts, and the third had decided to limit himself to a simple brown kerchief; all three wore identical brown trousers of some fabric I couldn't identify, and all three had similar boots with spurs. And most importantly, from all their belts hung some curious leather pouches of a strange shape, containing objects unknown to me at the time.
When Uncle Igor and I drove closer, those men looked at me with some doubt. Of course, I can understand them now — pale, scrawny, and dandified, I really did look rather out of place against these tanned and warlike men. We pulled up to the house as close as we could, after which Uncle Igor asked me to sit quietly in the cart while he settled some business. I didn't have much choice, so I had to wait. Fortunately, his exchange with those men didn't last long, and soon we continued on our way, while those men waved to us and sat back down at their table with the cards.
As we drove through the town, I kept silent and looked around at the surroundings, which seemed very curious to me. But Uncle Igor preferred to talk and tried to convey to me that I needed to watch what I said, learn how to behave in such company, and hide my fear — otherwise I'd regret it for the rest of my very short little life. By the way, up until that moment I had never in my life experienced fear; I'd always done everything as it seemed right to me, and so I'd never been afraid of anything. And I couldn't grasp in time what he meant by a short little life, either. Uncle Igor then went on counseling me about something for a long while, but I wasn't interested. I slipped into daydreams of how I would conquer this town, and after it, others. I fancied myself a kind of discoverer setting out on an easy and fascinating stroll.
Without even noticing it, we pulled up to some establishment over which, in large strange letters, was written "SALOON." The word seemed utterly absurd and incomprehensible to me, but intuitively I felt that this must be a place where food was cooked and served. The atmosphere inside was unconventional: some people were talking loudly, others sat at a big table playing with the same paper cards as those men at the border, yet others were flirting with beautiful women in gorgeous outfits — some of whom were dancing, others serving food and drinks — while the rest of the patrons slept sitting at their tables. Nearly everyone around was united by one fact: they were drinking beverages unfamiliar to me. These people reminded me of wild animals, which repulsed me at first — I wasn't used to seeing anything like it. Even then I started to believe, a little, that my father hadn't lied to me, but my mind at that point wasn't yet ripe for a full comprehension of all the information I'd received.
While I, the gawker, was admiring the sumptuous dancing ladies, whose outfits seemed to me overly revealing for women, Uncle Igor had a word with the establishment's owner. They exchanged a few words, and a little later my only acquaintance in this place said goodbye to me and set off out of town.
Without taking my eyes off the magnificent beauties, I walked up to the bar and gazed dreamily at the pretty ladies. Not a single resident of Raisky could have allowed herself to wear anything so tight, so flattering to a lovely figure, so bare around the legs. All the girls wore beautiful high-heeled shoes that made their legs even lovelier. Until that day, it had never crossed my mind that women's footwear could look so interesting. Come to think of it, even Marina, who was the acknowledged beauty of our town, looked utterly gray and nondescript next to them — though, unlike these loose women, she had a different, special charm that made her more interesting. I could have admired this sight for hours, but I was interrupted by a girl who slid onto the stool beside me.
"And what ill wind blew such a dressed-up — and possibly rich — young fellow into this dump?"
"Are you addressing me?" — I was somewhat stunned. Never before had a member of the fair sex addressed me in such a manner. And the girl turned out to be, at first glance, far nicer than all those nymphs around. The face of this green-eyed girl could be called angelic, and her figure was finer than the rest. Unlike the other beauties, she wore a less provocative dress and low-heeled boots, which helped her stand out, in an interesting way, against the others. But what caught the eye most of all were her long, bright-red curly locks — they looked very exotic. What kind of hair color was that? Could nature really create something like this?
"If you look around, you'll notice that everyone else is dressed differently, and you're the only one standing at the bar. In any case, I'll deal with your look later — for now, let's have a little beer and you can tell me about yourself and how you ended up in this hole. It's been a while since I've talked to a handsome fella like you."
"Beer? What's that?" — For some reason my question caused the stranger enormous surprise; she even gave a quiet little giggle, which I found charming.
"And you're a funny one. Never seen a man like you before. Don't worry — right now I'll help you get acquainted with the nectar of the gods. Joe, bring two glasses of beer! The tasty one, not that lousy knockoff you sometimes pour."
I was very impressed by such an interesting description of a beverage. As the man everyone called the barman poured the beer into glasses, I tried to imagine what this beer actually was, what this divine nectar had to be made of, and what taste it must possess. I wasn't bothered in the least by the color, the foam, or the gas bubbles in the glass — I so wanted to finally find out what this thing was.
"Well, here's to getting acquainted! I'm Alisa, by the way, and it's very nice to meet you!" — The girl raised her glass and waited for me to do the same, then brought it to mine and clinked it gently.
"And I'm Maksim, and I'm very pleased to meet you!"
We both brought the beer to our lips. Imagine my reaction when I tasted the so-called beer. I managed a swallow only with enormous effort, despite wanting to spit out this filth, while the girl downed a third of her glass in one go. What kind of perverted tastes must one have to call this vile swill the nectar of the gods?
"What nasty stuff!" — At my yelp, nearly every patron of the establishment glanced over, but very quickly everyone preferred to return to their own business, whereas Alisa was indignant.
"Joe, did you slip our guest your counterfeit?" — The girl sniffed my glass, then took a sip. "It's not nasty at all," — Alisa said, slightly offended, — "it's good beer, you probably just haven't acquired the taste yet. Drink a little more and it'll go down easier. Your name's interesting, by the way — I like it, first time I've come across one like it."
Finding the strength within myself, I took another couple of swallows, but no miracle occurred. Gradually I emptied my glass and managed to get used to the unpleasant taste. My head started to spin, and very strange sensations came over me; I couldn't tell whether I felt good or bad, and while I was rummaging through my own well-being, the girl quietly ordered two more beers, and we kept drinking.
"My friends and those closest to me call me Maks, if that's easier." — I managed with some effort, which, judging by everything, pleased my companion.
As we drank, Alisa told me about alcohol, spirits, and how alcoholism is not a disease at all — it was invented by non-drinkers to justify their pathological hatred of wonderful beverages and their own inability to control their behavior when drunk. I had never in my life heard such positive things about anything as I heard about this alcohol. With every minute I felt less and less like myself, and it was hard to tell whether I liked this state or not. Over the course of the day we talked about many things. It turned out the girl herself had arrived in this godforsaken place about a month ago. She told me everything she knew about it. For example, it was all run by a certain Beedle who had settled in a large mansion on the outskirts of town — he'd even fenced himself in so that no one would bother him with foolish questions. It turned out that this, as she put it, vile old geezer had established a tyranny in this town, taking a liking to whichever local women pleased him "for various amusements" — it took me a while, by the way, to grasp what Alisa meant. And all the strongest men served him faithfully and helped terrorize the dissenters. She also vented her anger that this same Beedle allowed absolutely anyone into Wildwest, but only let merchants leave. That was how I learned that we were both stuck in a foreign town, and I realized that my idea of traveling wasn't so novel or original after all. I also learned that this wild girl was practically my age — only half a year older.
The girl called me funny, silly, naive, infantile, a mama's boy, and something else I didn't catch. I didn't understand then what she meant by it — after all, I love my mother very much, and besides, I knew little about insults and humiliation; it wasn't our custom to offend others. So I didn't get upset and kept drinking and chatting with this charming creature, though, had I assessed the situation differently, I'd have been better off not getting involved with this madwoman at all. Little by little I lost control of myself completely.
Aliska — I didn't even notice when I'd started calling her that — decided it was time to go for a walk and get some air. First she took me to some shop where she picked out clothes for me. It turned out she had very good taste, and within a few minutes I'd gone from a dapper gentleman to, as she put it, a little cowboy. She even picked me out a fine hat. On one hand, I now fit the atmosphere perfectly; on the other, the elements of light blue, for some reason, made me stand out from the others. She said it was because of my innocent, pure gaze, but I think she'd had a hand in it — and in a good way. In any case, I was pleased, though altogether I'd spent the greater part of my money. At first I almost threw the suit away, but Alisa suggested it was a good one and might still come in handy.
We didn't wander around town for long, but in that time I managed to sober up slightly and feel just how comfortable I was. I don't know whether it was the new style of clothing, or the alcohol, or maybe both factors made me feel more confident among the locals.
In the evening we went drinking at the bar, where I was offered a chance to try tasty moonshine made from Uncle Igor's apples, but Alisa forbade such nuclear experiments. She also recommended I eat something so I wouldn't feel even worse, so I ordered a huge portion of meat with something, beans I think. I don't even remember what kind of meat it was, but I remember how much I liked it. Closer to night, when there were many more patrons, she sat me down at a table with some men who were playing with those strange cards. Aliska told me a lot about the cards and how to play them. She even managed, through cheating, to win us money for beer — by the way, alongside other people's coins she also appropriated some of mine, though in exchange she treated me to food and drink. I didn't even notice when she climbed up onto the bar and was loudly singing something, dancing, while the other men threw their arms around me and said that with this one, it was never boring. Thanks to her, I was warmly accepted and treated like one of their own. This led me to think that my father was partly mistaken and our towns weren't so different after all. In short, we drank and ate well into the night, and I have no idea when it all ended.
I woke up toward the middle of the day, and around the same time I learned what a hangover was — something else I'd heard about from Aliska's words. It was the most disgusting state of my life. I won't describe in detail what I went through, but believe me, I will never forget that nightmare. My new acquaintance, on the other hand, felt marvelous. She bustled around my bed, gave me some pills, made a vain attempt to feed me meat soup, stroked my head, and told me I'd learn to drink and it wouldn't be this bad next time. I lay in bed for a very long time before I realized that I was in Aliska's house and had been sleeping in her bed. Since I saw nothing in the room but a wooden table with stools and a small cabinet by the bed, all sorts of bad thoughts began to creep into my head. I was frightened that, having been out of control, I had taken advantage of the same state of this poor beauty and dishonored her. What horror! I didn't even remember when it could have happened!
And yet my parents had always taught me that one must never treat a lady badly. In Raisky, you court a girl you like for a long time, then make a proposal, and only then go further. I was terribly ashamed, and I understood that there would be no road home for me unless I married the poor girl. Though, to be honest, I had no desire to tie my life to some mostly unfamiliar drunkard.
When Alisa once again brought me a plate of soup, with the comment that it would do me good and I'd feel better — I just needed to make a little effort to eat — I found the strength to get down on my knees and propose to her, and apologized for not having a ring.
I never could have imagined she'd start laughing, barely holding the plate in her hands. I felt hurt and ashamed; I didn't understand what exactly made this girl laugh. Maybe in her parts it isn't customary to propose on one's knees, or maybe she was amused that I was before her in such an absurd pose and in nothing but my underdrawers. Though somewhere in my soul I felt relief — after all, we'd known each other far too briefly for a quick wedding.
"What a sweetie you are." — Aliska barely squeezed out, summoning her willpower to hide her laughter. It didn't come easily to her. — "But if you're making this gesture only out of guilt, relax — nothing happened between us. You're very interesting and funny, but I'd never have taken advantage of you against your will and in such a state. Besides, I don't approve of infidelity, and back in your native parts you've got some fiancée waiting, don't you? Although you do have something attractive about you. Damn, did you really get so drunk you don't remember what we talked about?"
Little by little, additional lost events began to surface in my head, and because of them my familiar picture of the world collapsed. The memory that Alisa travels from town to town in search of the ideal lover, one capable of satisfying all her vulgar needs, hit me over the head like a brick. Perhaps that might have been a trifle, but on the whole she'd led a dissolute life and had even, for some time, been a practitioner of the oldest profession. I won't mention here what that specialty is, because it's horrible and immoral and I condemn that line of work! If her words are to be believed, thanks to that job she'd learned a great deal — though it's hard for me to imagine exactly what. Eventually she'd had enough of it and come to the realization that taking money for such an activity was immoral and shameful, and besides, she didn't want to spend her time with just any man, but only with special ones. In the end she'd visited several towns and found no one yet, when she heard about the mighty mayor of Wildwest and rejoiced that she'd found her happiness — only no one had mentioned that he was a short man over sixty. Come to think of it, she seemed to have put all this in cruder, more vulgar terms, but I'll spare you the extra details.
To be honest, after all of this I lost my desire to have anything to do with Alisa. She was ruining every notion I'd formed of what a woman should be. Proper girls behave like real ladies. They ought to be modest, quiet, gentle, fragile, and chaste. And she drank alcohol — and a great deal of it — talked loudly (though that might have been forgivable), behaved crudely, and turned out, on top of everything, to be an immoral creature. Even men don't behave as wrongly as this madwoman.
"Alisa, thank you for the strangest day of my life, but please let me get dressed and leave your house."
"Oh, like I haven't seen anything to be shy about! What's there I haven't seen? Well, there is something I haven't, actually. All right, I'll step out, you change, and then we'll go get a hair of the dog — I could use one too. We can also discuss what to do about leaving Wildwest and setting off on a trip. Our choices are Flig — I know nothing about it at all — Durman, which is where I came from, in case you forgot, and which I can tell you is boring and doesn't live up to its name at all, quite the contrary in fact — and your Raisky, but you've been there, and going by your stories I don't want to. How glad I am I can finally get the hell out of this hole!" — She rattled all this off so fast I couldn't get a word in.
"You've probably misunderstood me, but I don't want to have anything to do with you. Your behavior is too immoral and unworthy of a girl. I don't mean to offend you, but interacting with you is unpleasant for me, so please let me get dressed and leave your house."
"Then go to hell, the lot of you, messing around with you here." — Alisa behaved quite restrainedly for herself; I'd expected her to at least dump a plate of her soup over my head. The girl carefully set the dish on the table and reminded me that if I wanted to recover, I really ought to eat. After that she disappeared through a side door, which was most likely the kitchen.
I felt ashamed, because I had never in my life offended people, let alone women. I put on the outfit Aliska had so carefully chosen for me, sat down at the table, and forced myself to eat. Even though the soup was, surprisingly, exquisite, my appetite was very poor — from the hangover, and from how I'd treated my would-be friend. Finishing my meal, I checked all my belongings, noticed I had very little money left, left my acquaintance's house, and headed for that very "SALOON" to ask the owner what he'd advise for getting out of this town.
There weren't many people on the street, but a couple of times I felt sidelong glances on me, which, however, didn't worry me at the time. When I entered that very establishment, I noticed there was no one inside except the barman. That didn't faze me in the least — yesterday must have been some holiday or day off, and today everyone had gone to work, because that's how it ought to be in a normal society. I walked up to the innkeeper and asked how to get out of this interesting town, but in return I got a bottle to the back of the head. To my luck it didn't break and I didn't lose consciousness; I racked my brain for a long time trying to recall whether I'd ever been hit before, and realized that this blow was the first in my life. Which, by the way, is hurtful and unpleasant, especially when your head already hurts without it. While I was counting the stars and trying to grasp what was happening, some tall fellow with enormous hands grabbed me, turned me to face him, and said:
"Riddle me this — who's going to get a beating today?"
"Good day, good sirs — what's this about?" — that was the only thing that came to mind from the shock. After all, why be rude or try to resist when I'd never had occasion to fight, and making things worse would have been foolish.
"You come to our town, we take you in with warmth and love, and you spend the night in the house of a woman who belongs to our Beedle?"
What do you know! That parasite had somehow neglected to mention she was the beloved of the head of this town. Looking at her from the outside, such an innocent girl with the kindest, purest face — yet inside her lives a cunning succubus-seductress who denies all moral norms. Probably they'd had some lovers' quarrel or similar nonsense, and she, taking offense, had decided to go amuse herself on the side and, at the same time, tickle her lover's nerves. If this man had been alone, I'd surely have told the truth about this snake, exactly as she was — but what frightened me was that behind him there were no fewer than just as many strongmen, and by the look of them, they weren't planning to stand on ceremony with me.
"Gentlemen, listen — don't jump to conclusions. Yes, it's true that yesterday I spent nearly the entire evening in the company of a certain citizen by the name of Alisa, who showed me around town and taught me to consume alcoholic substances. I won't lie, I did indeed spend the night at the aforementioned lady's house, but if you ask her, she'll confirm that absolutely nothing happened between us. And besides, I wasn't in any state to, comrades..." — Judging by the looks on their faces, the goons weren't very satisfied with my answer. First, as it seemed to me, they didn't quite grasp what I'd been babbling about; second, they were set on beating me up regardless. So I resigned myself to the fact that I was about to be beaten, and maybe even killed. Some trip I'd taken.
"Save the chatter." — The man holding me dealt me a hard punch to the stomach, then drew a revolver from his holster — another thing I learned about from Alisa; say what you will, she's a parasite, but she did help broaden my horizons — and threatened to shoot me if he didn't like something I did. — "Let's see how you tell these fairy tales to our Beedle. We're going to him right now."
I didn't have much choice: there was nowhere to run, and running would be stupid — they'd either kill me or maim me. This way, at least, I'd get to meet the local authorities. Maybe the one who'd caused all this hoopla would burn with shame and talk her beloved into letting me go in one piece. Bah — and just an hour ago she'd been babbling about where the two of us would go. Sure, I knew she was a piece of work, but not this much!
The whole way to Beedle's house they kicked me, shoved me, and cuffed me on the back of the head, and after I fell they grabbed me by the legs outright and dragged me across the sand. It was very unpleasant and humiliating, but I didn't dare resist and preferred to submit. The mansion, by the way, turned out to be very large — you can tell someone rich lives there. When they shoved me inside, I was received by a very sweet elderly lady, most likely a servant.
"Young man, please take a seat in the parlor and wait; Mr. Beedle will see you very shortly."
The wait was very painful for me; for a long time I imagined what would happen next. I didn't try to escape, because the house owner's pals were all around, rubbing their hands at the prospect of beating me to death. They didn't make me wait long — literally a minute later into the room came a scrawny man with long gray mustaches and a head nearly gleaming with baldness. He was dressed in a black shirt, black trousers, and black boots; his image was completed when that sweet servant brought him his hat, which added a few centimeters to his height. He confirmed nearly all my stereotypes about villains with his look — though I'd thought he'd have a nasty voice, but on the contrary, it turned out to be quite pleasant.
"Young man, you arrived among us from Raisky, where the most decent people in all the world dwell, only yesterday, and you've already drawn so much attention to your person. I am somewhat astonished by this — you ought to be ashamed. To tell the truth, I'd have taken your presence in our glorious Wildwest in stride, had you not laid hands on something that rightfully belongs to me" — at this phrase, the people around smiled and tittered like madmen, but I held up well and silently looked Mr. Beedle in the eye. — "In any case, I don't intend to stoop to the level of common bandits and simply kill you or beat you in front of everyone. That's not my way. I like things interesting and unconventional. So I'll give you exactly two hours, which you will spend alone in this room. During that time I guarantee your complete safety, provided you don't plan to try to escape. While you sit in there, I'll come up with some interesting way to test whether you're worth anything or not. And if you disappoint me, I'll arrange a very interesting death for you, with which I'll entertain the whole town. I hope these two hours will be the most interesting in your life. If you wish, you may have a little brandy for courage, or anything else you fancy — I don't mind."
Well, there's almost nothing more for me to write here. I can tell you about the room where I whiled away my time. The room was small, but quite roomy. The walls were decorated with light green wallpaper, white furniture stood all around, and the windows were draped with curtains matching the wallpaper, with white ruffles. I spent most of the time sitting at the writing desk, but if you looked around, you might notice a fine sideboard where on the top shelf stood beautiful bottles of some beverages, and on the lower shelf stood shot glasses and wine glasses. I'd have liked it, of course, if those weren't alcoholic. I also noticed a nice, and probably soft, sofa with two cushions. I also saw two large wardrobes that most likely hid clothing. Or maybe something else — I didn't check. And right by the door there's a small mirror. To tell the truth, it probably would have been better to open one of the bottles hidden in the sideboard — especially since, unless I'm mistaken, the host himself offered me a drink — to lie down on the sofa and calmly wait for what would come next. But upbringing wins out; I couldn't allow myself such luxury.
It remains only to add that the sweet old lady looked in on me from time to time and offered tea with cookies. A couple of times I refused, but she always went away looking so upset that in the end I gave in and tasted the treats. By the way, that was perhaps the best tea in my life, and the cookies were very tasty too. It's nice that at least one kind and bright person lives even here. Actually, I started this diary mostly out of a desire to pass the time somehow — I found a notebook in my bag, saw a pen, and decided to start writing. I just hope this sadist doesn't send my scribblings to my parents, otherwise they'll be very ashamed of their prodigal drunkard of a son — especially my mother. I don't think she'd survive such a tragedy.
I didn't even notice the two hours pass, but when I heard the door open behind me, I saw Beedle, with Alisa walking meekly behind him. There's a parasite for you — she cooked up this whole mess, and now she comes walking in with such a sad expression on her face. Ashamed, is she! Or maybe she's talked her lover into pardoning me? That would be wonderful.
"I'd like to not be disturbed." — Beedle said this to his servant, who nodded to him and silently closed the door. — "How glad I am that everyone's assembled! I was beginning to think you'd never show up here, my beauty. Would you like some tea with something tasty? Or perhaps coffee? I can pour something stronger, if you wish."
"Very funny! I've always dreamed of drinking and having a lovely time with an old lecher."
"Now, don't be rude, why so harsh? It's unpleasant, after all."
"And you say that to me? For nearly a whole month you've been trying to drag me into your bed, you call me your woman, your freaks keep chasing after me and demanding I present myself to you at once. And now you've grabbed some poor fellow and — not shy about it — spread the news all over town, just so I'd find out. And so, by sheer force, you've finally gotten your way: I'm here, and I'm finally willing to become your mistress — only let my friend go, and I'll do anything for you!" — To say I was surprised is to say nothing. All this time, in my head, she'd appeared as a foul creature of easy virtue who'd been teasing me, Beedle, and everyone around. And here she says they tried to drag her here by force, and she'd refused. And that she'd ended up here for my sake, on top of that. At that, I felt very ashamed in front of her. Though that doesn't change the fact that she's rude and unpleasant.
"Ah, reputation makes a ruler. But it also spawns such rumors..." — Beedle grew very sad and let out a despondent sigh. — "And personally, I've never once called you mine. Just once I said that a very interesting and pleasant young lady had arrived among us. The rest is rumors, gossip, and fabrications. But you tell me this — if I'm such a treacherous villain, why were you peacefully renting a little house, and never once did anyone try to drag you out of it?"
"Well..."
Alisa put on a thoughtful expression. She searched a long time for what to answer, but apparently couldn't find anything. Of course I had ideas in my head — a madwoman like her might well have beaten up all the men to make them leave her alone — but that's most likely fantasy; no woman could handle a crowd of men, even if she were armed to the teeth and a master of martial arts.
"Exactly! No one ever touched you, and no one needed you. Maybe from time to time they pestered you and demanded you come to me. But that was my pals' initiative — they needed it, not me; take it up with them. By the way, they brought in your fellow on their own, too. If you look closely, he didn't suffer much, and at my place they even fed him and let him rest."
"But I'm not her fellow! I don't even love her! It's all gossip, lies, and fabrication! Where are the facts, where's the proof? I demand a fair and just trial! And a rights advocate, and the carrying out of a last will." — To be honest, I'd lost control of myself and was ready to start screaming. All this time I'd felt tense, mentally preparing for death, and now it turned out I'd been relaxing. No, I'm not playing this game.
"Ah, and yet this man, not long ago, was on his knees proposing to me." — Aliska said it in such a disapproving tone that the situation became completely awkward. — "In any case, I'm for getting down to business. I came here to demand Maks's release, and I'm ready to sacrifice myself for him."
"And what the hell would I need such a sacrifice for? As if I couldn't find better entertainment. And I know far more about you, Alisa, than you think. I know about your former profession, I know about your arrest, I know what you went to prison for, and about your interesting little trait, too, I more or less know. I have connections that help me dig up information about visitors to the city. Were I twenty or thirty years younger, I might just test how true the rumors are. But as it is, I'm an old and ailing man; I need love, care, and affection — and a death from the passion of a beauty. Besides, I don't like forcing anyone against their will; there's no pleasure in that."
If Aliska's profession could no longer surprise me — especially since she'd already claimed to have left the trade — the fact of her arrest astounded me. I'd been socializing with a criminal whom, in my native parts, they'd have executed long ago for all the vices she'd committed. What would people think of me when they found out who I'd been spending time with here? With a biography like that, they'd never want to see me at home again — especially given that I'd been asked not to disgrace my parts — and Marina wouldn't want anything to do with such a scoundrel anyway. Alas, it's too late now, there's nowhere to go, and I'll probably have to look for a new home. That is, of course, if I get out of here alive.
"As a matter of fact, we've got a very strange and unpleasant situation right now. On one hand, I very much want to let you go, so the two of you can set off traveling and having fun — you haven't really done anything bad, after all. On the other hand, if I just let you go like that, I won't be understood. After all, I am a cruel and wicked tyrant who spares no one. Although, truth be told, I do have one harmless plan that will help us all come out of this with our skins intact — though it may not please everyone."
Aliska and I listened very attentively to Beedle's scheme, and I was in a state of shock. He proposed making use of her reputation as an insatiable mistress. To be precise — to spread a rumor that he and I had spent the whole night competing in a passionate battle for her heart, and that in the end the gallant Beedle had decided to yield, because he'd never seen such strong and confident men, after which he'd let us leave, because we were a worthy couple, and he now respected me. Naive as I was, I didn't grasp the full gist of the plan at first, but when the diligent Alisa described in detail what was actually meant, I felt sick. These two wanted my name to be stained with horrible rumors about what an awful person I was! But if such rumors reached my native Raisky, I'd never wash off this disgrace. On the other hand, I already had a reputation as a drunkard who spent the night at a mostly unfamiliar woman's place.
There was no lengthy persuasion, because I was made to understand that if I refused this option, I'd experience physical pain — and a harsh punishment was promised by none other than Aliska herself. But I was promised that I'd live and be able to keep traveling. At least some positive prospects. And maybe I'd somehow manage to clear myself of the rumors. And all that was required of me was to spend a night in a luxurious mansion where they fed you well.
We sat for a long while in Beedle's study, drank magnificent tea, and talked about all sorts of interesting and even pleasant things. First he told us that in the past, terrible chaos had reigned in this town, and everyone around had shown serious cruelty and aggression toward one another. And on the whole, nearly every local absorbs inner fury with their mother's milk. Then he told us about himself — about how hard it had been for him since childhood to watch the horrors unfolding, and how, through cunning, deception, and a minimum of cruelty, he had gained power and risen to the status of a cruel tyrant for whom the residents of Wildwest were ready to do anything. Some of the people he had recruited and they played along in his little cheerful spectacle, while the rest, instead of showing even greater aggression, began to obey his orders unquestioningly. From time to time there were mishaps, and they allowed themselves a little more than they should, but they never questioned Beedle's authority. He also repented that sometimes he himself had sinned for the sake of a graphic demonstration, to prove he was still worth something — because he believed it was better to sacrifice a little than to lose everything.
Somewhere deep down, it was hard for me to accept the fact that I was surrounded by terrible criminals. It all looked very wild. Of course I was very glad that Beedle had managed to make his town a little better, and by himself he didn't come across as a bad man — but then neither did his method seem to me among the best. Although I hadn't forgotten the fact that in every town the inhabitants possess a unique mindset. Of course I'd have liked the same peace and quiet as in my home, but I recalled that I'd set out to experience the uniqueness of this or that place. So any attempts to change anything in other people would be a waste of time.
Beedle also added that he'd see Alisa and me to the borders of whichever town we were heading to. Even though neither of us wanted to set out together at that point, we had no choice, because the legend had to be sealed by our leaving as a couple. Alisa immediately declared that she wouldn't go to Durman or to my "boring" Raisky. Even though I didn't want to go home — especially with my newly refreshed reputation — it was still unpleasant to hear that. And the choice between Flig and Durman was about the same for me, since I knew nothing about either of those towns, so I didn't argue, but asked them at least to tell me what kind of town it was with such an interesting name.
Aliska didn't have to be coaxed, and she readily told me herself how she'd gone to a town with such a telling name to find out what it had been nicknamed for. I don't quite understand what she'd expected from this town, but she got the most awful impressions of her life from that place. It turned out that all of Durman was overflowing with religious fanatics who worshipped some Creator God, who walked around in some kind of dazed state, incapable of and unwilling to communicate with outsiders — though among themselves they all got along fine, actively discussed things, played something, sometimes quarreled and doused each other with filth — in short, they had their own very cheerful atmosphere. And ruling over all of them was some great, luminous, radiant Emperor whose name she hadn't remembered, but who was clearly a very important figure for Durman.
She even managed to learn that the cause of it all was some strange tea they all drank there. By every trick, ruse, and even persuasion, Alisa wanted to get hold of and try that beverage, but she was never allowed to. To be more precise, she was offered the option of praying to their great Creator God, renouncing the joys of this world, and living out her whole life among them, praying in their temple and drinking tea with them — but she chose to decline. Although Alisa honestly admitted that if she found nothing better for her life, she'd most likely return there and accept their faith, if this tea was really worth it. The strangest thing was that she never even figured out what kind of Creator those folks prayed to, since she simply wasn't allowed into the temple, and they said only that he was great and almighty. Even to me, from her account, these people seemed strange, and any desire to go there faded strongly. Unless, perhaps, one could drop in on the way back.
About Flig we tried to ask Beedle, but he only shrugged and said that all he knew was that, for some reason, in those parts all the women were very plump, and their ruler was so fat that for many years she hadn't been able to leave her own house — which on the whole didn't stop her from running the town.
We also chatted about various things; Beedle even told us about his predilections, which I had no desire to know, let alone imagine. Even Alisa took it all with bewilderment and said that you couldn't do that, that it was horrible. As if she were one to judge.
Before we went to bed, the caring Beedle said that he was open to both of us and ready to show himself in certain skills in all their glory, if only we wished — but I didn't understand what he meant, and Alisa asked him not to frighten me, because I wasn't ready to grasp and accept such things. Interesting — what exactly did they mean? Though maybe it really is better for me not to know, in case it's something bad.
The very same sweet old lady who had welcomed me saw us to our bedrooms. From the look of it, she was in charge among the service staff; the others I'd seen practically ignored their guests. I was glad that I'd finally get to sleep, and tomorrow my Wildwest epic would end and nothing bad would happen to me anymore. But Alisa looked downcast and kept wanting to say something yet couldn't bring herself to. And when we reached our little rooms and the servant withdrew, the girl held me back and began:
"Listen, I'm really sorry that the rumors ahead are upsetting you. And I'm sorry you'll have to put up with my company on the way to Flig. But I promise that once we get there, we'll go our separate ways and live and travel the way we did before we met. I don't want to be a burden to you, and it's obviously hard for you to accept a person with quirks like mine. Anyway — good night, and I hope you can put up with me a little longer."
I listened to all of it and silently closed the door without giving her any answer. It came out somehow awkward; I wasn't taught to behave that way. But it isn't that important, because what worried me was whether I'd be able to travel on my own now. Yes, this strange girl is foul and annoying. On the other hand, setting aside that she'd gotten me drunk, she hadn't done anything bad to me. She'd dressed me, introduced me to the culture, broadened my horizons, put me to bed, fed me, nursed me, performed an act of self-sacrifice to try to help me. And yesterday she'd often put a friendly arm around my shoulder, introduced me to everyone, been rude here and there, and taught me about life here and there. It doesn't come off well — what I'm doing to her isn't manly.
I managed to fall asleep very late, from long deliberations about what would become of me, whether I'd cope on my own, and whether it wasn't better to travel with a companion, even one like her. On one hand, she's frightening and unpleasant; on the other, with her it can sometimes be fun, and she most likely won't abandon you in trouble. Besides, I hadn't taken into account where she's from and what had happened to her there. If she'd told me and I'd been too drunk to remember, then I ought to be ashamed.
In the morning, Beedle led the two of us to the center of town and delivered a solemn speech about what a fine fellow I was and what a fine fiancé I'd make for Alisa. Then he went on about how the same little devil lived in me as in him, and how I was fit to be his successor, should I ever wish it. In short, he spouted all kinds of nonsense, but everyone listened closely and looked at me as if they were discovering a new side of me. The people swallowed these fabrications like bait, and judging by the whispering here and there, gossip was already being invented. And while everyone was hanging on their mayor's every word, I carefully drew Alisa aside.
"Listen, I've been thinking — I ought to, well, apologize to you, I suppose. After all, you came to me with love and care, and I was rude and behaved improperly. In short, I'd be glad if you'd forgive me. If not, I'll understand — I was in the wrong."
"Now if you'd only work on yourself a little, build up your self-confidence, get a bit rougher — why, there'd be no price on you. You need to be meaner, harsher. Though what can you expect — where you're from, everyone's probably all friends and singing songs. Peace and quiet! You're lucky to have such a kind place; maybe you should've stayed there? Nothing would've threatened you there, and you'd have been happy. And as for meeting someone like me — don't even get me started! They probably wouldn't let me within a cannon shot of the place!" — She muttered all this quickly, though, thankfully, more quietly than usual.
"Yes, our town is wonderful; there's no place for vice there. But I do admit that life there was gray, boring, and monotonous. Of course I miss some people, but even with my friends I'd never had any fun — certainly not like the day before yesterday. So, all in all, I suppose you're my friend now too."
"What do you mean, 'I suppose'? As if before that we were just two barely acquainted people? If that were so, I probably wouldn't have risked myself to save you."
"I've figured that out by now. And since we're friends, you'll keep me company on my journey?"
"I was starting to think you'd never bring it up and was planning to ask myself. But since you insist — oh, very well, of course I'll go with you. I can't very well leave you alone — someone might do you in, and then I'd have to live with that."
What a rude girl she is — instead of being glad she wouldn't be traveling alone anymore, she even gloats. She wanted to go together herself. I just hope we don't drink anymore, and I won't have to regret anything.
We listened to the rest of Beedle's fiery speech, said goodbye to the townsfolk, and got on the horses we were to ride to Flig. I'm glad I'd managed to learn to ride back in Raisky, otherwise the trip would have been very agonizing and painful for me. Alisa, too, sat her horse quite confidently — she must have learned to ride at some point too — which is a relief; she won't be crying all the way about the pain.
On the whole, I'm glad I decided to travel the world. I lived so long under a dome and only recently realized that everything had to change. And the diary idea appealed to me a great deal too. I decided that, since life had given me this opportunity, I would write in it about every little town I visited. That'll help me look at the whole world in greater detail and discover how they differ from one another. And if I'm lucky, I'll send all this off to the printers and publish a book. I happened to need to find work, and this one isn't so bad. I'll just have to cut some bits — otherwise my new friend Beedle will probably never forgive me for spilling his secret this way.