"Fine, we"ll see." Orel took out a sheet of paper from his pocket. "It"s your pass to the Upper City. You just have to put your name into it. Your name will be Nik – I decided to call you that. Tol, give us ink and a quill. Can you write it yourself?" He gave the paper to Nikto.

"Enough of testing me!" Nikto took the quill and wrote confidently: Nik To.

Orel smiled.

"Good. Name is Nik, family name is To."

The friends laughed.

"All right, put on your mask and sunglasses, I don"t know how you"re going to put them both, and we"re going to the city. Does your horse see by day?"

"Yes," Nikto snapped.

"Let"s go! Enough stuffing yourself, Tol, we"re leaving."

"Nikto, put on some gloves, too," Enriki added. "Your hands are somewhat…"

"I got it."

They rode through the castle gates: first Orel on his black beauty, without a mask and a hood; his dark-brown hair streamed in the wind. Lis followed him, then Enriki, Nikto and the last was Tol.

Lis came alongside with Orel on the slope of the hill.

"Orel, I saw that. Nikto didn"t look what Tol was holding, not even once," he said quickly.

"What do you mean?"

"He just knew what Tol was holding."

He didn"t give Orel time to answer and spurred his horse forward.