more fiction than truth. If Vincent had dared to put my entire background on paper, I would not have forgiven him. It was my right to tell the whole truth about myself, and I could not have a dodgy hanger-on confessing it for me. Fortunately, Vincent decided to be a fantasist. He sang the dithyrambs of my looks on almost every page. I was, of course, flattered. More than that, I was embarrassed for the first time. It turns out that Vincent saw me as a noble, almost blessed creature, which I had never been.
«What’s your opinion?» Suddenly Vincent’s voice came from behind the back of the chair. Rose had already crept quietly into the room, too, and it seemed to me that both she and Vincent had not entered through the doorway, but had grown right out of the ground.
«Who was that for?» Rose humbly clasped her hands behind her back and stared intently at the newly brought boxes.
«It is not for him,» I remarked about the gremlin, who, wielding his paws much more deftly than human hands, had already removed the lids from the boxes and was enthusiastically touching the soft orange ruffled skirt with his claws. He seemed to think that the whole pile of fancy rags had been brought here specially to make a cozy nest for him to sleep in.
«So how about my first… well, almost first literary audition,» Vincent insisted.
«Are you telling me you’ve written anything before that?» – I grinned, and then met his disapproving gaze. You can’t joke when someone has opened up to you about the most important thing. «Well, I guess no one’s ever made a villain a positive hero before.»
«Hmm…» Vincent was clearly expecting something more, at least praise for his labors, but instead of chiding me for being disrespectful, he nodded toward the carrier and suggested. «Open the secret compartment. There’s a hidden spring, push it.
I didn’t want to touch his personal belongings, the inviolability of which had already been violated, but since Vincent suggested it himself. I opened the stash easily and pulled out a stack of letters. There was no address on the envelopes. Half of them had a capital «B» written in ornate handwriting, and the other half had something like a red-ink-soaked fingerprint. All the letters were already printed out, so I unfolded the first one I picked at random and read it out loud:
«Your grace! I am your humble former secretary, having served under you as chief assistant, archivist, housekeeper, bookkeeper, housekeeper, cook, etc., etc.» I didn’t have the strength to list all the things I had read. My tongue was bony from what I had already read out loud. After skipping three lines, I continued. «Overcoming my innate shyness, I take the liberty of disturbing you, not through impudence or immodesty, but by virtue of grave circumstances. Our illustrious monseigneur has taken possession not only of the Lara, but of every acre of land around it, and there is not even a corner where I can rest my head without fearing every moment that it is about to fall off my shoulders. If I could find a corner in a warehouse or a cellar, where I could hide without the fear that a bat might fly past and report to its lord that there was an extra in town. No attic, alas, though it looks uninhabited, is actually so. Everywhere the servants of our sun-like monseigneur live, fly, or nest. Your humble servant would never trouble you with a request for intercession, knowing full well that it would be an impossible burden on you. You may wish to ask why I should not leave Lara, so I will answer in advance that, first, the protective ring of spells does not let anyone in or out of the city, of which you yourself are well aware, and that, second, I cannot afford to live anywhere else. On this point I dare remind you that you still haven’t paid me three-quarters of my regular monthly wages, and the whole of last month’s. Do not think that I resent you. I could have lived with my usual trade if all the purses in the city had not been counted among the servants of the new lord. Where one strong robber has gone, there is nothing for the smaller ones to do. Again, I would not have disturbed you if it hadn’t been for the utmost need. I heard recently that somehow you had managed to find a remedy for the return of youth. You have always reproached me for being too young, but time passes, and now, sitting in my fragile shelter, the doors of which may at any moment be blown open by a fiery explosion or a visit from a terrible guest, I feel like a decrepit old man. Even, my hand trembles when I write, unable to write out the letters accurately. Please tell me the secret of your transformation, if only as a reward for the one year, seven months, twenty-nine days and five hours I served you in so many positions before you not quite politely chased me out. I served you faithfully, and this sudden dismissal can be explained either by an empty treasury or the appearance of a new favorite, but I am not offended. As a reward for all the services I have rendered you, out of infinite respect for your person I do not demand a penny of money, only send me a prescription so that I can, like you, rejuvenate myself. P.S.. A blank piece of paper, so you don’t waste any money, enclosed. I would also enclose a postage stamp and printing wax, if you and I were to use regular postage. Thank you in advance, eternally yours, Vincent.»
«It’s a good thing I didn’t correspond with you,» I said with a sigh of relief as I read the letter. – You show a meticulousness in your written explanations that you would have been beaten for in real life.»
«And it was all for your sake,» Vincent said angrily. «I wanted to help, but it hasn’t worked out yet. Do you know what that fuddy-duddy wrote back? That he didn’t want anything to do with beggars. Then I wrote to him again, in the same way, but no longer with requests, but with threats. Only sternness has an effect on scoundrels. I was immediately given a polite answer, with even more meticulous apologies than mine, but he did not dare to reveal his secrets, as if he did not know what he was talking about, saying that he had no secrets from society, and he asked me humbly not to write further, as he had no money for a secretary, and he could no longer be away from work just to write some letters.»
«Has he sent you your letters back?»
«Yes, he must have thought that every piece of paper was precious to me, or maybe he thought it was bad luck to keep the things of someone who was about to be caught in the clutches of Monseigneur dragon. Just don’t think I gave him our address in Lara. I found letters every time in the hollow of an elm tree. The crows would bring them. I would put mine under my pillow, wish before I went to sleep the name of the addressee, and in the morning it would disappear, already in his hands.»
«It’s funny,» I agreed. «It’s news to me, too, that you’re in such dire straits.»
«Well…» Vincent blushed. «It would be a plight, though, if I took my scribbles closer to the printing press.»
«Who would agree to that?» I laughed. «Remember the sad experience of Camille, who only managed to get a play into an unpopular theater by threatening the director?»
«My case is quite different,» said Vincent confidently. – In addition, you are able to buy for us all the bookstores in Lara and not one printing press, and not a dozen pairs of workers. Gold or threats, it doesn’t matter to you what you pay with.»
«I may soon find myself in the claws of your venerable former employer, and you want to make a book hero out of me.
«For if the prince gets you back on your old path, you might find your biography with a delicate velvet bookmark on your bedside table, and you wouldn’t have to seduce anyone, they’d already be in love with you.»
«And if it’s not about the girls? What about the agitated superstitious peasantry, the suspicious laymen, the soldiers, the youths, the merchants, the proprietors? Do you think they will all love the one whose fiery breath could at any moment collapse on the roofs of their houses and turn a peaceful night to a burning hell. No one, from ministers to long-suffering students, wishes for such an end.
«Stop, Edwin. People are mostly mistrustful. They will consider all my work to be mere authorial fiction.»
«And that outlaw I spared? He told anyone who wanted to know about me. What if there was a survivor who managed to leave the burning city and noticed me. They wouldn’t believe them