"How long has this been going on?" Kerry asked.

"About four months," said the priest of Ilmot, "because there were no blades of grass to feed the cattle in the winter, the sheep and chickens were slaughtered except for the cows, and at first a family had a pickled chicken stolen, and his master came to me to do justice—no, I was not very good at casting detection spells, but I had eyes, ears, and some trivial rights, but it was not a human who stole the chicken—and the thieves soon came again, and I followed them with men and snatched the meat from their claws. ”

As he spoke, he lifted a small bucket from the stump where the idol was enshrined, and walked out of the room, which was not spacious, but bright and clean enough.

"It's very strange that we shoot these bats, because this winter is not too cold, although the berries and young leaves are gone, but there is no heavy snow covering the plants, and these bats are able to live by sucking the slurry from the branches of the trees - we have seen them do this before - but the problem is that even in the past, there have never been bats stealing meat or attacking humans in those extraordinarily long and harsh winters. ”

"Attacking humans?"

"Then we hid the cured meat and eggs in the cellar or in the tank, and when they could not find the meat, they began to attack the human ......," said the priest, plucking from his herb garden what looked like a handful of broad-leaved grass, which was an onion that grew leaves and was also the sacred flower of Ilmut, and filled the vat with earth and buried the onions in the soil: "Put them under the nose of the benevolent Ilmot, and they will grow exceptionally well in the future." The pastor explained, "It's big." It tastes sweet, and it tastes like fatty meat when cooked with a little oil, ah. I just said that, yes, the bats started attacking humans," he said, "and first of all a boy who sneaked into the woods to pick berries, and he ran home crying and screaming, missing an ear, and his parents sent him on his way to me. Also scratched and bitten by swarms of bats, one with blood sucked and one with his finger bitten off. ”

"Did you disperse the bats?"

"Yes. The priest walked back with the keg, "My mentor has said that I have nothing but piety, but I think I always have something to use, and from him I learned the Burning Hand and the art of panic, as well as to repair minor injuries. Although I am not entirely sure of the last one, the benevolent Ilmut has given me herbs. He said proudly, "They can cure any kind of ailment—does your friend like onion soup? It is the most wonderful elixir I have ever seen and known, whether you are cold, sunburned, snake-bitten, sickle-cut, onion, and all is well." If that doesn't work, add some tomatoes. ”

He offered the bucket of onions to the idol of Ilmot. After grunting and praying for a while, he got up again and went to the kitchen, which was also the antechamber of the church, where there was a hearth, and like some peasants who had the good fortune to keep some of their income, an iron pot hung from the hearth, and he turned on the coals and let them burn, and scooped out of a large wooden barrel beside the hearth, bread and onions, and a piece of hard, blackened grease, "lard," said the priest. It was a good piece of oil, which the cowherd gave me, and you know, in the belly of the pig, there was such a good piece of fat that he so generously cut a piece for me. One afternoon he heard his ox calling, and when he went to the pen to look, he found that his cow was covered with bats, and Ilmote protected him, and he did not know which god gave him courage, so he threw himself at the fire and shouted, and his ox was fine, but his eyeballs were almost gouged out. ”

"Do those bats show up even during the day?" said Kerry Ben as the priest tried to pour light wine from another large wooden barrel.

"Anytime, anywhere. "And more and more - did you only see one last night?"

"Maybe it's lonely," said the Elven Ranger, "and it tries to catch a bear." ”

"Mighty, isn't it," said the priest, "in a few days they have taken away the babies of the Mo, and a girl of seven years old has been killed," he said, handing the wooden cup to the elf, "this is my light wine, made of wild berries from the woods, which the lord has allowed - and does not want my wine." ”

The priest's light wine lived up to its name, it tasted as light as water with bile and vinegar, and the priest watched the elf drink it, and smiled and took back the cup: "Because it doesn't taste good, but it's ......"

"It's herbal wine," said the priest happily, "with the addition of sour sorrel and aconite, it is good for the wounded, don't look at me, I know you have wounds too, and the healing potion is good, but the herbs can make up for its shortcomings," he poured a few more full glasses, "bring them to your companions." "After three days of drinking, they were able to jump as alive as they did before they were injured," he said. ”

"And the bread, I don't have a tray, but there's a clipboard there, I'll cook some onion soup," the priest continued, "and the meat, you'll need this, but unfortunately the trotters that the steward gave me have already been eaten by me, and according to the Serris, we can cook it for the warrior to eat—or we can try to get some claws from the wild ducks, if they haven't been snatched away by the damned winged mice." ”

The elf walked through Ilmot's sanctuary with three full glasses of light wine, and it was nearly dusk, and the faint sunlight had shifted its position, shining on the barrel of onions, perhaps indeed shrouded in the glory of the god of goodness, it was so green and vibrant, and Ilmote's face hidden under the hood stared at it.

Baldwin was already lying on the bed at Memey's insistence, and he was indeed reaching his limit, anyway, he had lost too much blood, and he had lost his arm, and the healing potion was not an energy potion, it could not replace sleep and food—the group hadn't eaten since the banquet that the king had held for Baldwin— The fish stolen from under the bear's paw was scorched, and the ducks were all returned to the fluffy mother and son, and the only thing that comforted their stomachs was a small bottle of winter honey from Kerribben, and each of them received only a shallow bite.

The elves gave them bread and light wine. The bread was thick and mixed with gravel, but fortunately it was both plum honey and a thief. Or Baldwin, they all spent some part of their lives with this bread, or worse, and they were all hungry, and Kerry wouldn't have cared about that, he was a wandering ranger, and only Cremar had a small piece of it. The first was that food was not indispensable to him, and the second was that he did not want to torture himself needlessly—the lich took a small bite of bread, after dipping it in light wine. I found that it was not unpalatable, it was a bit like the film and television drama props made of sawdust and plastic foam in the memories of the otherworldly souls.

"It's probably the most meager bounty ever paid. The thief said that even with a wooden cup that covered his entire face, he was still like a shadow that had broken out of the shadows of the house.

"Bounty?" said Memmy, looking at the elf in disbelief. Slender eyebrows wrinkled together. She sat at the end of the bed. Given that there was only one chair in the room, and that chair was being occupied by the caster, and that she was certainly more tired than any of the four, Priest Flo's position was understandable.

The thief didn't want to answer the question, but just made a vicious gesture with disdain.

"That's why we were able to enter the village so easily and receive great hospitality. The elf said calmly.

"But we're all hurt. Mei Mi said.

"Don't worry," said the thief, "there will be no you," he said contemptuously, "and a dead boar will be more useful than you." ”

"So. "Does it have anything to do with the bats?" he showed the elf his slightly swollen thumb, "I accidentally touched its teeth before." After receiving an affirmative reply from the elf, he bent his thumb, "Do they know where those bats came from?"

"Should know. Carey Ben said.

Baldwin looked at his arm. "Tomorrow. He said.

"And me. The caster said that the former undead had a familiar smell from the bats, like the rabbits on the Partridge Hill - he planned that if the bats were really red-robed behind them, he would try to leave, and the last thing they needed now was to get the attention of a red-robed - of course, at least with Kerryben, which was a bit difficult, but he could make the stupid villagers think they had something to do with the scourge, so they would wield pitchforks and clubs to drive them away.

Mei Mi panicked suddenly, she didn't want to be alone with Gülen.

"I can too," said Memmy, "I am a priest, and at least better than the priest of Ilmot." ”

"That's a good thing, but it's a little unfair, for Ilmot's servant is a man," said the thief sarcastically, taking the last drop of light wine, "and, Plum, if you want to say something less pleasant, it's better to listen to what is going on outside." ”

He took the cup and strode over to open the hidden wooden door: "I smell the broth," he said, "with onions?"

"Yes. The priest of Ilmut replied calmly, his hands wrapped in thick linen and the ears of the clay pot, so that he could not knock on the door in time.

He placed the clay pot on the small table, and Glenn grabbed the wooden spoon inside, scooping the steaming broth into his own cup.

"I'm sorry," said the priest of Ilmut quietly, "I do have the intention of asking you to help this village—and as the gentleman said, we don't have a lot of money, and most of the people here haven't even seen what a silver coin looks like, but things are ...... It's grown to the point where even I can't control it. He rolled up his sleeves and showed the strangers the deep scars: "When I see you." He said to Kerribben, "I have seen your companion again, and I am saying to myself, that Ilmut has answered your prayer, and that he has sent you here, and I earnestly ask for your help—we are at a dead end." ”

"I don't understand......," said Baldwin, but before he could finish, he heard a terrible shout outside.

Kerriben immediately rushed out of the room—a pregnant woman, with a barrel overturned, as if she was about to fetch water from a well, surrounded by several gray-white bats, twice as large as the elf had seen the previous night, and looking like a ferocious bird. They made a high-pitched sound, and with their equally sharp claws grasped the woman's arms guarding the head and abdomen, and snatched the bloody flesh from above—more dangerous than the woman was the child she was carrying, a teenager, who had been carrying water alone, and perhaps because there had already been a bat attack on the child, his mother had followed.

The boy was tossed to the ground by bats, which flapped their wings violently, tore his clothes, and stretched out their mouths to suck his blood.

Kerry had shot the first arrow, and Berdwin had a second, the latter was not an elf, but his aim was not far off, and it was more powerful and ferocious—the elven ranger's arrow pierced through the eyes of bats, while Berdwin's arrows nailed them to the ground or threaded together, like larks ready to be sent into the oven.

&&&

And in the distant halls of Tyre, the side of the scales inscribed with the name of Baldwin Donclay was sprinkled with crystalline powder like condensed sunlight.

A priest looked nervously at the scales, which were made of black iron and inlaid with names inlaid with Mithril, and in the halls of Tyre there were thousands of them—they were all mostly balanced, neither to the right nor to the left—and some of them had a slight tilt, and the names on them dimmed to indicate that the paladins represented by the scales were going dangerously astray, and that the priest would normally warn them in time.

Baldwin Donkray's scales tipped overnight, without warning, and no one could understand what was going on, and even with demonic temptation, paladins were usually sinking on the other side of the scales, something that had never been seen in the centuries of the priest's memory.

"Why," asked the young priest, bewildered, "I see the light...... Bodwin has done good deeds, why is his balance still motionless and unchanged?"

Tyre was not as ruthless and narrow-minded as one might think, and like other gods, he would give his followers a chance to repent, and when they did good, their sins would be atoned for.

The priest approached the scale, whose name had been so dark that it was almost the same color as black iron, and looked at it carefully: "He does do good deeds. But his sins were also increasing. He said, and then saw distrust in the eyes of the young pastor. (To be continued......)

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