Methodius Buslaev. Third Horseman Of Gloom

“Yes. Hunger isn’t an auntie. It’s an uncle. An angry uncle with forks instead of teeth, sandpaper tongue, and a seething stomach,” Essiorh uttered importantly, unwillingly turning away from the motorcycle. “You haven’t tried finding an old piece of iron somewhere and turned it into gold?”

“Are you mocking me?” Daph asked. “Any magic of transformation is under the control of the golden-winged. It doesn’t appeal to me very much to be nabbed. Am I really still wanted?”

Essiorh nodded despondently. “I’m afraid that while Buslaev’s eidos is in limbo and has reached neither Light nor Gloom, nothing will change. Transparent Spheres won’t dare to intervene in order not to expose you to Gloom by its intercession. So, the golden-winged continue to search for you. It’s a matter of principle for them. They loved Populus and Rufinus, and indeed precisely you deprived them of their wings.”

“Sort of,” Daph said gloomily.

Essiorh wanted to pat her on the head encouragingly, but squinted at Depressiac and, instead of Daph’s hair, patted the seat of his motorcycle. “Perhaps there’s something I can do for you all the same,” he decided, touching his silver wings.

A tray of food materialized in front of Daph’s nose: fried potatoes, crunchy chicken legs, saltines, a plate of dried shredded squid, and a large glass of orange juice.

“Well? You can sit down over there! In my opinion, it’s a suitable bench. No mothers with children, lovers, or old ladies,” Essiorh said, after looking around and scouting the locale.

“Did you buy this? Somehow I didn’t see you pay,” Daph said with doubt. She could also steal dinner from moronoids herself. It is another matter that this was not the best pursuit for a guard of Light. Each act of this type would be a minimum of one darkened feather.

Essiorh dejectedly clicked his tongue. “No, I didn’t pay. But my excuse is that this was an unlucky dinner,” he said.

“Unlucky in what sense? In my opinion, it’s quite a good dinner,” Daph said, contemplating the tray and its contents.

“Oh, Transparent Spheres!” Essiorh exclaimed in horror. “What did they teach you in ten thousand years? You really didn’t work with predicting the fates of the simplest objects?”

“What, did I have to? I was probably sick at that time,” Daph assured him carelessly.

“Well, and your health is poor! Prediction of fates is at 300 years and again repeats in seventy years!”

Daph was not too impressed. “Don’t be a bore!” she said. “Or else I’ll shower your bike with mud again! So, what’s with the dinner? Why is it unlucky?”

“This is about insight into fate. According to the theory of universal space, the tray with this dinner was supposed to crash down near the cash register, when its mistress was hailed by her friend. The mistress of the tray would slip and break her ankle. While she was lying in the hospital, her fourteen-year-old daughter would drop out of school, her husband would drink a glass of poison by mistake and burn his stomach, and a truck would run over her beloved dog. Now none of this will happen. So, arguing logically, I did a good deed.”

“So, aside from getting your hands on the dinner, you also did a good deed? The approach of a guard of Light is immediately noticed: combine the good with the pleasant and not come out worse off at the same time!” Daph clarified mockingly, putting a straw into the orange juice.

“Well then, give it back!” Essiorh was angry, leaped up and tried to take the tray away from her. “Ungrateful pig! Give it back right now!“

“Don’t! Oh! Okay, okay, okay! I won’t do it anymore!” Daph became alarmed, blocking the tray with her body.

Snorting indignantly, Essiorh removed his hands. “You reason like a Dark! Young lady, are you sure that nothing was messed up? That training didn’t take place in Tartarus, but in Eden?” he asked in fury.

“Please hush!” Daph brushed him off. “For what it’s worth, you saved me from starving to death. Let’s finish off your dinner, before it again decides to fall near the feet of the poor woman whose kinfolk are inclined to drink poison and drop out of school.”

Daph took a chicken leg and almost took a bite of it, when a sharp-clawed paw flickered before her eyes. In the next moment, the leg simply disappeared. “Whoa! Crows aren’t enough for someone! That’s gall, young man! It will be even more gall if the bones of this chicken are later discovered in my hair,” said Daphne.

They occupied the bench. While Daph was finishing the potatoes, dipping them in ketchup, Essiorh rolled the motorcycle and put it beside her. Daph pulled away just in case. She feared that the motorcycle would fall from the stand and crush her foot. Taking into account her keeper’s general bad luck, this outcome was more than probable.

“In my opinion, you more often roll your motorcycle than it takes you somewhere,” Daph remarked.

“Not true!” Essiorh was outraged. “We have an understanding. It strictly stalls at a traffic light. But starts quite obediently when you accelerate afterwards.”

“And your motorcycle, is it also an unlucky motorcycle? Or did you hijack it in the routine way?”

“You insult me,” Essiorh said, getting furious. “This evening, this motorcycle was supposed to take away another man’s wife. And then two days later, it would be stolen, the exchange bureau would be robbed, and then it would be dumped in the swamp outside the city. What vandalism! What abuse to motorcycles!”

“But now, of course, none of this will happen. You did a good deed again, didn’t you?” Daph asked.

Essiorh coughed. It seemed like he did not much like the question. “Koff, koff… Well, how to tell you…” he muttered.

“Tell it like it is.”

“Eh, eh… well… Actually, to be honest, reality will change a little. They’ll rob the Exchange using a Zhiguli, and take someone else’s wife away on the subway. Moreover, she’ll pay for the ticket herself.”

“But they won’t dump the motorcycle in the swamp?”

“Of course not. Just let them try!” Essiorh uttered challengingly.

Daph finished the potatoes and disappointingly slurped with the straw in the empty juice glass. Depressiac, meanwhile, had dealt with the dried shredded squid. Only the tray, presenting no gastronomical interest, remained of the dinner. “So, someone else’s wife will be taken away on the subway! Phew, how unromantic! This damsel would be sort of proud to be kidnapped on a motorcycle, but now she’ll only snort!” Daph said. This thought had already been troubling her for about two minutes.

“It’s her problem! But generally, they may say thanks. Rail transport is much safer than the wheel!” Essiorh retorted sternly. He clearly intended on defending his motorcycle against all sorts of attempts.

“Well, it’s all bull!” Daph said, having already had time to fall under the verbal charm of Eddy Khavron.

“What’s bull?” Essiorh asked without understanding.

“Well, bull, it’s like… hmm… crap,” Daph explained authoritatively.

“What’s crap?”

“Crap, it’s bull! What, don’t you understand?” Daph said, no less authoritatively.

She was ready for new questions, but her keeper had already satisfied his curiosity and only thoughtfully drawled, “Ahhh!” The subject had been exhausted.

A group of about fifteen fanatics rushed past them, jumping over the bench in panic. Another group of about fifty raced after them at some distance.

“How wonderful!” Essiorh said approvingly. “Instead of sitting in front of the TV, these youngsters are busy with sports.”

“Are you sure it’s sports?” Daph doubted.

“What else? Do you have another hypothesis? Well done, friends, good luck to you in your group race with obstacles!”

The first group of fanatics reached the alley, and the other group, more numerous, rushed to Daph and her keeper. Not analysing the way, the group burst right onto the small park, jumping on automobiles. The bench on which Daphne and Essiorh sat was overturned. Both were forced to leap up quickly.

“Hey, hey, friends! Don’t knock over my motorcycle!” Essiorh was alarmed, clinging to the handlebar of his iron horse.

One of the pursuers tried, in passing, to grab Depressiac from Daphne’s shoulder, but jerked his hand back with a howl. Blood slowly appeared from five fresh scratches. Depressiac thoughtfully licked its claws, determining the level of hemoglobin.

The first group of fanatics had reached the alley, where they suddenly received a solid reinforcement of about a hundred people. After locking together for a minute, the groups’ roles were reversed. Now the first group was pursuing and the second group was fleeing. And both groups again rushed past the astonished guards. This time, however, Daph and Essiorh had enough sense to press against the wall of a house.

“Perhaps I’ll go and see where they’re running to! What fervor, what expression! I’m sure this will be informative for me. See you later, Daph!” Essiorh said. He took the motorcycle from the stand and ran, pushing it. Then, after hopping nimbly onto the seat, shifted gear and dashed away, gunning the engine, enveloped in bluish fume.

“I’ll rent a brain. They aren’t offered second-hand!” Daph said after him. She imagined to herself advertising in the newspaper. Her guard-keeper was an impervious idealist. However, Daph liked this. Each gets the keeper he deserves.