Глава 16

Snow, snow, snow.

Snow is falling on his head.

It turns into boiling water, into endless cries, into the weight of the dead.

Hands are not enough to sweep it away. It is wet, heavy, sinking...

Until it crushes those who are inside, those who are still living.

(Humming)

Babushka, h-how are you feeling?

(Humming)

...Tick, tock.

Tick, tock.

(Humming)

The clock, ticks, tocks.

The clock, doesn't wait, for anyone.

But we, shouldn't sing?

Let's... l-let's go.

No more survivors here.

I don't think I have the strength to stand. Are you there, Lidiya? I could use a hand—

Lidiya?

Over there.

Someone's coming.

Rankin...

The fire's gone out.

Yes, it went out a while ago. Some survivors found us. We must do something.

Are you going to make Hawley kneel here forever? Even if he went mad and did all this, is it really necessary to punish him this way?

The fire's gone out, and it's getting cold. He'll die.

Yes, he'll die. But...

Not yet.

Rankin looks toward the entrance to the village.

The fence that used to be there was designed to stop foraging tuskbeasts, not anyone determined enough to enter, whether their intentions were benevolent, or malicious.

Scattered figures begin to emerge from behind the remains of the fence.

They look this way hesitantly, then walk away timidly.

Rankin sounds almost like he is muttering to himself—

I was wrong, Nikto.

What do you mean?

I was wrong.

In what way?

Hawley wasn't mad. He wasn't shouting for Vetochki's <i>babushka</i>, or to his dead son. He was shouting at me.

'...I have committed murder, not for food, nor for water, nor for abode.'

'But for those who walk with me, for the salvation of their souls.'

I didn't hear anything. Even if he did say it, it's just the kind of prayer that Vetochki and her babushka pray all the time.

It's not like they started worshipping the Yurodstvo and the Tsar yesterday.

Yurodstvo? Tsar? No, not distant or ethereal things like that. He was trying to save my soul, even after I made him kill his own son.

But what is a soul, even? Who can prove that it exists? Is it more precious than mortal life? It's ridiculous... silly!

I shouldn't have forced him. But now, the worst has happened. If he did what he did before in order to fulfill my wishes, then it was for the same reason that he set this fire.

No, it's nonsense, listen to me—

It might as well have been me who set this fire.

I must pay for my crimes.

Don't be a fool, Rankin!

I'll keep this brief.

What... what else do you have to say?

We gave you food and water.

Is THIS how you repay us?

No.

Are you here to chase us away, or to finish what you started?

I want you to witness the perpetrator face justice.

Ha... haha...

Hahahahaha...

Perpetrator? Justice? Will you kill all the arsonists, killers, and robbers in front of me?

No, you won't. Otherwise, you wouldn't be coming to talk to me while armed.

I'll pretend I didn't hear anything. Leave, unless you're trying to wipe us out.

Never come back again.

Rankin puts down his pickaxe and all other weapons, then raises both hands in the air.

Rankin!

Stay back, Nikto.

You still have your Arts...

Right here. The culprit is right here. You can do what you wish with him.

What?

I've put down my weapon. I won't use any Arts.

You can do what you wish.

I see. You would shield the others with your own life.

I've never been good with numbers... but I can tell that's not a fair deal.

I'm right here. I won't fight back.

I don't want you! We don't want you! You weren't here when the fire started!

I want the one who set the fire, the one who robbed my home and burned it down—

I want the one who killed my wife!

Even if I was the reason for his violence?

It was my arrogance that put the others in a desperate situation. It was I who forced him down the path of violence.

You should kill me.

No.

Listen to me—

We want him. We don't want anyone else.

A small space has been cleared in the rubble to serve as an impromptu execution ground.

A crowd has gathered to watch. It is as though they cannot help themselves, like huddling around a fire in the winter night, yet fearful that its warmth might burn.

I still don't understand. Why did Hawley set the fire?

Why would he do this to a village that helped us?

He's mad.

He was never the same again after his son died.

But—maybe he didn't set the fire? Rankin wanted to satisfy the villagers, and Hawley happened to be sick.

The Hawley I knew would never do something like that...

I don't know, but I trust Rankin. Didn't you know? He even tried to trade his life for Hawley's.

Thankfully, the villagers wanted the real culprit, not a good person trying to take his place.

...It hasn't started yet, but I can't watch...

I-I'll be over there. I need some rest.

Stop, Rankin's talking.

Pretty much everyone's here.

(Mutters) ...share...

(Mutters) Pain...

I have a few words to say before I execute this man. I'm not trying to defend him, or seek forgiveness from the victims.

Yes, he deserves to die.

He betrayed kindness and trust. He placed all of us in danger. He harmed the innocent, in direct violation of our original intent, which was simply to survive.