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Believe the old log.
I went into such a wilderness, the existence of which was not previously suspected.
No, I knew that there was such a palace – Galataras, but no more.

I knew that it was the smallest of the palaces, smaller even than the Kidonian Zakros who had brought me up.
He knew that he was at the bottom of the road south of Knossos.
But no more.
Frankly, I was not eager to learn more.
Knossos was fine with me.
After several days of waiting for the results of Kostis’s activities and as much as one of the Rituals of the Renovation (I wanted to dissolve myself after what I saw in the coven), they called me to the Priestess, presented Akaro without further ado (as if we didn’t know each other), from which he refused, and a bag with amulets and scrolls (filled with cult data).
I was not very surprised – I was waiting for the moment when I had to leave the palace.
And he suffered at night, waiting for a call.
So that even Cavia got worried – did they mix poison into my wine?
Poor girl
I said goodbye to her as if I were going to die.
However, I hope that I will come back.
We acted together.
Two people who know everything.
I walked openly, like the priest of the temple of Razay, but Akaro was like a simple guard accompanying me

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.
Oh, yes, I forgot about the Burro.
Just like that.
This four-legged demon carried what was hard for us – valuable gifts for the top of the Palace, two shields, a pair of sets of darts and other trash, so necessary in the investigation.
We left at dawn and had to go up to the Falicity ridge and Galataras located at the foot in the evening, but by the will of fate lingered – a summer rainstorm unexpectedly went so dangerous for an accidental lonely traveler who was delayed on the road.

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We barely kept our four-legged porter from stampede, but we ourselves were not much better.
By evening, the rain subsided a little, but lightning.
beat more often; Once a detached tree caught fire from a blow right in front of us.
Drenched and embittered, we thought to seek shelter in the mountains, where the caves could be located, but we were lucky.
A lonely light loomed slightly away from the path, coming closer, we were convinced that this is not a traveler and not the leprosy of demons, but a hamlet in the suburbs.
– Lonely travelers do not hang around on the Spider Road! Let’s go away! – I am a priest of Razay, with me only a bodyguard! – I tried to shout down the wind.
Only silence was the answer to me and I added: – We will pay generously! There was a creak shutter.
The door opened and an ancient copper spear stuck out in the opening.
He was held by an old man of forty circles.
Nearby stood a young guy – a son or nephew, holding a bronze Cycladic sword with a worn engraving of the handle.
Trophy, or what? The old man looked like a retired sack – bearing, scars.
Their faces were tense, but not hard.
The weapon began to descend.
“You didn’t talk about the donkey.”
– We thought he would prove himself.
– This demon manifested, having begun a heart-rending howl.
The master frowned.
“Custom requires you to enter, although on such a night it is not safe for our family.”
– afraid of strangers? – I asked, stretching the temple seal to the old man – Or the spirits of nature? – he gave it to the youngest.
– Not.
– The veteran answered slowly, having received the nod of his son – the old tradition does not like extra people.
I looked at the guard.
Akaro didn’t care about the old traditions while it was raining outside.
He shrugged his shoulders, nearly knocking down their joint, gave the donkey to the young man who had thrown a rough woolen cloak and resolutely entered inside.
With us, the water did not drip, but it flowed – all the clothes were soaked to the skin.
The owner threw us a quick glance and sighed: – Wet clothing is harmful to physical health.
– he turned around and waved his hand, inviting us inside the house – your happiness that our family has lived since ancient times at the hot spring. Hidden indian camera sex.

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