The King sat naked. Like a foolish pauper on the street, he sat leaning against a cold wall, drawing in his blue, goose-bumped legs. He shivered, with his eyes closed, he listened, but everything was quiet.
He awoke at midnight from a nightmare and immediatelly understood that he was finished. Some one weezed and writhed by the door of the bedroom suite, he heard footsteps, metalic jingling and drunken mummbling of His Highness, Uncle Buht: "Let me through... Let me.. Break it down, hell with it..." Wet with icy sweat, he slintly rolled off his bed, ducked into a secter closet, and loosing himself he ran down the underground passage. Something sqelched under his bare feet, the startled rats dashed away, but he did not notice anything, just now, sitting next to a wall he remembered everything; the darkness, the slippery walls, and the pain from a blow on the head against the shakled door to the temple, and his own unberable high yelp.
They shall not enter here, he thought. No one shall enter here. Only if the King order's so. But the King shall not order... He snickered hysterically. Oh no, the King will not order! He carefully un screwed up his eyes and saw his blue, hairless legs with scraped knees. Still alive, he thought. I will live, because they shall not enter here.
Everything in the temple was blueish from the cold light of the lanterns -- long glowing tubes that were stretched under the ceiling. In the center, God stood on an eminence, big, heavy, with sparkling dead eyes. The King continuously and stupidly stared, until God was suddenly screened by a shabby lay brother, still a greenhorn. Scraching, with an open mouth he gazed at the naked King. The King squinted once again. Scum, he thought, a lousy vermine, catch the mongrel and to the dogs, for them to ravage... He reasoned that he did not remember the lout well, but he was long gone. So scrawny, snotty... That's all right, we'll remember. We'll remeber everything, Your Highness, Uncle Buht. During the father's reighn, I dare say you sat quietly, drank a bit and kept silent, were afraid to be noticed, you knew that King Prostyaga did not forget you ignoble treachery...