"Prince Arel Chig, I presume," one of them said to Orel. Orel took off the mask that hid his face.

"What do I owe this honor to?" he asked coldly.

"I am Edin Ol," the rider introduced himself. He was the only one in a mask.

"So what?" Orel snorted.

Ol smirked. "Don"t pretend you don"t know who I am. I"m Black Bey"s right-hand man and you know that."

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you on behalf of my master." He pointed at the open restaurant in the corner of the street. "Let"s go there. I don"t need to get in trouble with the guards." He glanced at the passer-byes who hurried past them, casting fearful and displeased looks at the people who blocked the street.

Orel shrugged indifferently.

"Fine but I"m short of time, remember that."

"All right," Edin Ol turned his horse to the restaurant. His riders followed him.

Orel glanced at Vil. "Go home," he ordered.

Vil looked at him pleadingly. "Orel, please let me stay with you," he said quietly in such an unusual begging manner that Lis whistled in surprise.

"I don"t repeat twice. Go!" Orel snapped; Vil"s pitiful gaze didn"t affect him.

"Orel, please…"

Orel reached for the sword behind his back.

"One more word and you"re dead," he said slowly.

"I"m sorry," Vil sniffed. He was nearly in tears.

Orel turned his horse to the restaurant; Lis and Nikto followed him without saying a word to Vil. Vil stayed in the street alone. After a while he finally spurred his horse in fury and rode away.

Three of them entered the restaurant and sat down at the opposite side of the table where Edin and his people already sat. The waiter wasn"t in a hurry to serve them. Customers watched them in fear but didn"t run – it was the Upper City where people were not that terrified.

"I"m listening," Orel said looking at Ol in contempt.