Wind in the Hands by Rami Yudovin Page B

receiver, feeling irritated. His doubts evaporated. The Seer saw a pattern.
    “Why is she with him? What is going on? A mere chance? Natural development of a programmed event? A mechanism of which the Stranger is a part has been activated? But this mechanism is dangerous for people as it can trigger forces that will make many people suffer. But aren’t there disasters and wars I care about no more than others? Why am I worried? What can the Stranger do? Destroy the City? No. Certainly, not. Although there were times when such people provoked the strongest earthquakes. Even so, what do I care? If the City is destined to be destroyed, let it be destroyed and no matter the reason. Why have I turned against him? No reasonable explanation,” suddenly the Seer had a strange idea: “and what if I’m programmed to resist him?” This thought made him unwell. He did not want to consider that version as he thought himself an independent individual.
    “Run away, run away from this land of prophets and quacks. Forget everything!”
    He imagined how he left the country and forgot about the Stranger, and felt he was losing his power. Panic was slowly overwhelming him. “I can’t act otherwise. I wish I could, but I can’t.”
    He lay down on the floor and a tear of powerless despair ran down his cheek onto the cedar parquet floor.
    After her conversation with the Seer, the Medium smoked a cigarette and closed her eyes.
    “What’s happening?” the Stranger asked.
    “Strange,” she said exhaling smoke. “I don’t recognize the Seer. He finds you dangerous.”
    “For whom?”
    “For me too,” she drawled.
    “Are you with us? Then hurry up,” the Soldier interfered addressing the woman.
    “I don’t know yet, but definitely not against you,” the Medium answered.
    “First thing you must do is to change your looks, remove the beard and have your hair cut,” the Soldier hinted the Stranger.
    “And what about you? Grow hair and beard in several minutes. That’s what you were taught?” the Stranger tried to joke but no one smiled.
    “I’ll handle this. Not tanned skin will show up after you shave, take her tinting cream. Do not look sullen, that’s for business. You don’t want to break enemies, do you? Then walk unnoticed. Can you help him at least here?” the Soldier asked the woman.
    “Sure. Let’s go to the room,” she took the Stranger by his hand and drew him after her.
    The Soldier went to the men’s room in the hotel lounge. He took out a wig, put it on his close cut balding head, placed elegant spectacles with non- myopic glasses on the nose, glued on moustache and beard, took off his coat and tucked it in the bag. Took off his trousers and sharply turned them out, they were double-sided: one side was dark grey and the other light blue; he was seen wearing the first version. He stretched his shoulders.
    “I need to be several centimeters shorter. Will have to slouch a bit.”

Chapter 12 The Tower
    After the conversation with his friend, the Seer sat down in the armchair and started to tune onto the Stranger’s image trying to locate him but could not. He was either anxious, such tasks required complete confidence in own power, or the Stranger was closed, and that could happen, although rarely. The Seer easily tuned on the image of his friend and now just had to look where she was.
    He saw lifts, glass doors, a bar, and rooms. “They are in a hotel. Could have guessed at once,” the Seer complained. He called the servant and in a couple of minutes had a printout with all nearest hotels. There were only six hotels in the list. The Seer circled the Tower and called his acquaintance.
    “Good afternoon. I know where they are. Can you dispatch your people to the Tower hotel?”
    “Good afternoon, my friend,” the Functionary started to peak hesitantly. “You see, it has become a bit complicated. We’ve found the fingerprints of the man who made a performance at the railway station. They belong to an