Житие Мое / Life of Mine: Глава 2

Chapter 2
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Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 19:59

An echo of my acquaintance with the police came over me on Tuesday during the alchemy practicum. I had already handed in my work log to the lab technician and was now idly wondering if I could ignite the magnesium shavings displayed in the flask on the teacher's desk without moving from my seat. Being intimately acquainted with The Source presented interesting possibilities...

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:05

What stopped me was that I was the only mage in the audience. And this was no joke! Half the students at the University of High Magic were not mages - the school was known for its Alchemy Department. A predisposition to this science was said to be as much an innate talent as the ability to create magic. Only it was more difficult to detect this ability. By the way, I received my grant from the Roland the Light Foundation for winning the Alchemy tournament. I had always enjoyed observing the oscillation of pendulums, collecting sunlight through the lens, and fiddling with reagents, especially those that tended to burn and explode. Unfortunately, this made the practice torture - I had an unbearable urge to misbehave.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:13

I didn't have time to do anything nasty - some junior opened the door without knocking, shouting:

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:13

"Tangor to the Provost!" and immediately ran off.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:14

The mood immediately went down.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:14

A black mage in a bad mood is the worst curse. My fellow students rustled their notes with curiosity, but they didn't dare comment on what was happening. However, this happiness could not last forever. Barely a bell rang, Ronald Rest, a.k.a. Ron the Quarter, burst into the classroom, nearly knocking the instructor to the ground. This one didn't slow down in front of mages, black or white.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:51

"Hello, Thomas!" shouted Quater. "You are summoned to the Dragon!"

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:51

Thomas Tangor is me. No nicknames are absolutely unacceptable since the surname Tangor is as good as a nickname.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:52

"Hello," I muttered grimly, not wanting to broach the subject further.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:52

"What have you done?" Quater continued to interrogate me.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:53

"Got in a fight."

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:53

Oh..." he grumbled disappointedly and shivered.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:54

A fight involving a black student is corny, boring, and uninteresting. It fits the image too well. Unlike faint-hearted whites, we love open conflict, and the sight of blood gives us a pleasurable thrill. Not our blood, naturally. University leaders are always faced with a tragic dilemma. Demanding that blacks behave like other students is pointless, but leaving such behavior unpunished is also unacceptable. So some smart guy (if I knew who, I would have risen from the grave!) found the perfect solution in all respects - correctional work. That meant scraping pots in the university canteen, scraping manure for the vivarium inhabitants, or cleaning toilets. Refusal meant expulsion from the university for breach of discipline. For three years, I had managed to avoid this dubious joy, but yesterday's visit to the police seemed to have put a stop to my luck.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 20:58

No, I don't mind, but I do want to point out that some so-called mere mortals turned out to be bigger assholes than any black magician. Take Ronald Rest, for instance, who got his nickname for demanding a "quarter only" before he got drunk, and when he was drunk, he would pester all the males and pick on all the females. His bitter experience taught his fellow students to leave the student's tavern at the mere sight of him. Now, Quater perceived the practice of corrective labor as an outrageous indulgence.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:01

I wish it wasn't a vivarium...

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:01

Anyway, I arrived at the door of the office of the Vice-Chancellor for Difficult Students (a euphemism for black mages at the university) feeling sick in advance. The brass sign said that Mr. Darkon lived behind the door, but I thought it should have been a sign to repel ghouls.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:02

Contrary to expectations, the Vice-Chancellor did not seem angry or annoyed.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:02

"I was informed that you spent a couple of hours in our beloved department yesterday." He winked conspiratorially, and I shuddered at the memory. "Don't take what happened to heart." And in response to my puzzled look explained: "All black mages go to the police when they are students. It is another law of nature, and it is not for us to violate it."

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:04

Personally, I didn't really care about the statistics, but there was a lively interest in the Vice-Chancellor's eyes:

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:05

"And have you tried your strengths on an investigator?"

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:06

I shook my head desperately. How could I! Attacking law enforcement with magic was pure suicide.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:06

"Congratulations! So, the first entry on your file will be "particularly trustworthy". Believe me, it will mean more to your career than your best academic record." The Vice-Chancellor has taken on a trusting tone. "After all these years, it seems to me that their main goal is to get the detainee off balance; it must be the only way to find out what a mage is capable of. It's a risky way to go about it, though."

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:07

We parted with the Vice-Chancellor with firm handshakes, like people united by the injustice they had suffered. I was dying to know what he was up to. As I was leaving the office, I remembered that I hadn't told him about the Acquisition of the Power. Well, some other time! I'll just be a little more careful.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:25

I had got away from the police, but now I was faced with the problem of cash. I had been able to get away from the cops, but now I was faced with the problem of cash. The impressions of the goblin were still too fresh in my mind, and I did not dare to earn money illegally.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:26

I had to find a job.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:26

As a man of action, the first thing I did was to look around all the neighborhoods around campus for a job that might be available by the summer. The University of High Magic is a special school. There are no exams except for admission and graduation, which makes sense: you can't learn magic right off the bat. There are many, many midterm checkpoints, but, in keeping with an ancient tradition, the teachers take a break twice a year - for two months in summer and three weeks in winter. In winter, most of my classmates stayed in town, but in summer, the university was practically empty. The eve of the summer holidays is the best time to snatch someone's place.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:28

Alas! Most of the openings were for white mages, at most for ordinary people, and no one wanted to have trouble with a black student, especially on the eve of the Acquisition of the Power. Sneaky discrimination! Since a black mage didn't want money!

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:33

The only real option was to scrub the floors at the tram depot at night. Thanks, uncle, but when to sleep? In my fourth year at university, specialization began. Since I'd passed my initiation, I'd have to splurge on a full-fledged course in Witchcraft. Pecking your nose over a pentagram? I'd rather be hit in the head with a rock.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:34

I was left with two options: the Guggenzolgers or family help, and I had to decide quickly. I decided to start with the family. What the hell? A family of hereditary black magicians could not be poor! I only needed fifty or sixty crowns a month, but my mother sent twenty, occasionally thirty (like for holidays), and sincerely considered it the norm. We needed to have a serious talk. These things are not solved by letters, and for the first time in three years, I decided to take advantage of another privilege of being a Roland Foundation scholarship holder: an all-expenses-paid trip home and back.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:35

Actually, summer visits to the ancestors are more typical of white students. I always wondered how they managed to get back and forth if they didn't like to use the railway. Ron the Quater was going to the South Coast with two sophomores, and he asked me to come, but I stubbornly refused, spreading the rumor that I had serious business at home-I didn't want to look like a beggar in front of my buddies.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:36

It was easy to get a ticket - the first wagon was not popular with passengers. Few people travel to our region in summer, as in any other season, for that matter. First, the mountainous plateau at the western tip of the continent was renowned for having the nastiest climate in all of Ingernika. It wasn't that it was cold here, but there was never any real warmth. The number of sunny days a year was a handful, and the fog was commonplace. Second, our people are a bit wild: the peasants of Krauchard are prejudiced and still braid silver thread into their horses' manes, nail ram's horns over their gates, and sew black cat fur into their blankets. A land of melancholy, freezing rain, and gale-force winds, whites simply can't take it. And also the land of the undead.

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:39

There are no other places where there are so many manifestations of otherworldly forces as here. For the locals, this is a matter of pride and constant concern. Even children know the simple rituals of exorcism, there are ancient, unmapped stelae at every crossroads, and on clear days the frightening and alluring island of the King can be seen from the coast. Who is surprised then that one in five inhabitants of Krauhard is a black mage?

Camrad_RIP 18.04.23 в 21:40

I sat alone on the bench in the carriage, staring blankly through the clouds of smoke at the passing landscape. The dense green of the protective strip resembled a tunnel, with fields, cows, white houses and other thatched pastoralism glimpsed in the rare gaps between the trees. I waited secretly for the evergreen trees to be replaced by low shrubs and weeds, and the fields by stony heaths and deep ravines, but the first greeting from my homeland was, of course, the rain.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:40

I slept most of the way safely and by the time I arrived, despite the early hour, I was awake and refreshed. I had nothing but a small rucksack and a wicker basket of luggage. I could not resist buying a couple of souvenirs for my mother and the little ones, after which my financial situation hit the "bottom of the barrel" mark. The steward, heroically restraining the urge to yawn, gingerly lowered the folding ladder onto the platform, helped me down and sincerely wished me a safe journey - there was a thick milky-white fog outside the train.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:42

It was only when I was immersed in this damp, barely perceptible puff of mist that I realised how homesick I had been. Everything I loved about cities - the smoke of the cars, the never-ending traffic - was just a surrogate for this mysterious, enveloping pseudo-life. A steam train whistled in the fog, and I walked along the platform, past the sign for "Wild Outpost," remembering where the descent was supposed to be.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:43

The fog was barely lifting off the ground and would be gone in an hour at the most, but it was this feature that allowed me to see the feet of those meeting me first, before I could see the faces. There were a pair of ladies' low-heeled shoes (a bit worn and rusty), two men's "don't mind mud" boots, and four horses' hooves waiting for me. It was the hooves that I recognized them from - it was not often that you would find an animal with all four legs of different colours.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:44

"Hello, Ma!"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:45

A woman in a dark knitted jacket emerged from the fog; I would have recognised her anywhere and anytime. She stood on tiptoe and kissed me on the cheek:

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:46

"Hello, Tommy! How was your trip?"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:46

"Great!"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:46

"Hello, Thomas. The children have been preparing for your arrival for the third day - the whole county already knows that their brother is coming back. So don't be surprised."

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:47

Before I turned to the speaker, I took a deep breath, bringing myself into the state I usually use to talk to clients: detached friendliness, deference without familiarity. I'm sure I'm better at it now than I was three years ago. Standing beside my mother, smiling, was he, one of the three white mages who live in Krowheart. My stepfather.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:48

"Hello!"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:48

"Let's go, let's go," my mother hurriedly led me to the cart.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:48

I found myself drawing this meeting, and my memory was cleverly twisting it to throw out a man I had known for more than a decade. That is to say, not a single thought of him occurred to me. I guess that's how the brain can't see what it doesn't understand. My stepfather take place charioteer place. My mother sat with me, and I, smiling, was still trying to get a sense of recognition.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 05:59

Blacks and whites never fit into the same family. They are two different people, different universes. All we had in common was food, and we even slept differently. I would not even mention parenting: my stepfather could not argue with me at all, and punishing me was out of the question. From the moment we first met (I was eight, and he was thirty-two), he had been Joe to me and I Thomas to him (Mr. Thomas at first), and I had always considered myself the older man. It wasn't a matter of magical metaphysics - the black talent in me was still asleep at the time, and his white talent was never too strong. My character, my worldview, my personality, everything was as different as night and day.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 06:01

He liked to sit by the fire and read books - I only came home to eat. He cherished exotic varieties of daisies in the flowerbeds - I repaired the lawnmower in the barn. He brought a good-natured mossy-footed horse to our house, which happily carried the whole family to the market and visits on weekends. I used my first money to buy a scooter that reeked of alcohol and was desperately rambling, and whenever I had a spare moment, I rolled it out onto the driveway in front of the house and cleaned, adjusted, and rebuilt it. That was how we got on each other's nerves for six years after my mother's marriage. Only now, having studied at the University of Redstone for three years, do I realize what a nightmare he lived in. The day I received the invitation from the Roland Foundation must have been the happiest day of his life.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 06:03

"So, how are things at home?" I tried to be polite.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 06:15

"Good." Mother hesitated, and I waited patiently for him to continue. "Thomas, we need to have a serious talk."

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 06:15