Житие Мое / Life of Mine: Глава 4

Chapter 4
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Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:08

The island did not welcome us. This was clear from the first minute we were there.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:19

We reached our destination when the fog cleared. The sun never showed, but instead, a translucent, pearly grey haze filled the sky. It's a common sight in Krowhard. As the monotony of the landscape grew tiresome, the coastal cliffs parted to reveal the entrance to a deep cove, whose ancient name was long forgotten and reliably so, for the past three hundred years, it had been simply known as Prison Cove. On the far shore were buildings of the more familiar Ingenika appearance: rough masonry of local stone, barred windows, and rusty stains on the walls.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:20

The buildings were somehow subtly submerged in the landscape, as if they were mirages, with only the red tile roofs showing up as colored spots against the grey cliffs. There were no outer walls - the place had never been a fortress. And who would think of guarding King's Island? From the outset, the complex was built as a prison, a name that had become a household name. It was the first of its kind, if memory serves me correctly, and there was no compromise before punishments were inflicted in the square or beheaded. Of course, given their peculiarities, there were more blacks in the place than any other, which gave rise to all sorts of silly beliefs. The building was founded on a slab of dark gray material, like a cement monolith, which had not been able made three hundred years before.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:21

Passing the line of natural breakwaters, the boat signaled. Then once more. And again. The noise of the engine changed: the crew started to back up - apparently, the captain did not dare to approach the jetty just like that. After some deliberation, a dinghy was launched, and Mr. Smith and one of the guards went ashore. After about two hours, they returned, and after another deliberation, the boat moved on. The crocodile lady took charge of the unloading as if nothing had happened.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:24

Two conclusions could be drawn from what had happened: firstly, something had gone wrong, and secondly, what it was that mere mortals were not supposed to know.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:24

"Keep your ears open," my uncle whispered to me.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:25

The work put the anxiety aside for a while. The students scolded, dragging a trolley full of expedition supplies to the building (they were swearing for nothing, as such a mountain of junk could be carried by hand for the rest of the summer). Uncle Gordon and I, armed with poles, were busy rolling barrels of fuel for the generator up the hill (not a very difficult task, but from the outside, it looked very difficult). The white one was working with the dynamo in the annex. They found someone to do it with... After my uncle and I had delivered the third barrel, I started to wonder - what was that white one doing there so long? After the fourth, I decided to find out.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:27

There was a strong smell of oil in the annex. The white one had managed to fill the tank with fuel. There were blown fuses on the floor - it was an emergency stop for the generator, but there was no external damage to the diesel or the winding. The student was busy draining the starter battery for nothing by pulling the starter knob. The poor guy was in a trance - the machine wouldn't run. We had to save the guy and save ourselves. And literally: whites have one unpleasant trait - if something seriously upsets them, they can cry about it for weeks. I have more than once witnessed the funeral of a broken teacup, not to mention mice and birds. The most unforgettable sight: is a man carefully carrying a captured cockroach outside. Just think about it to catch the insect and then carry it out of the house without accidentally crushing it. In short, spending four weeks in the company of a mentally disturbed white one did not appeal to me at all. And on an island. Ha!

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:30

"Hear ye, here comes the alchemist!"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:31

The boy pouted angrily and looked a bit like Lucik.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:32

"Don't be a sourpuss!" I patted him on the shoulder indulgently. "I'll make it up in a minute."

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:32

The problem was as simple as a stone and had to do not with alchemy but with the science of bad contacts: the installer was too shy to make the fuses click into place, so the alternator would not turn on. When the engine rumbled, the student was genuinely happy.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:33

"If anything else happens," I offered in a friendly way, "call me. Anything I can do to help!"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:36

He nodded and smiled.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:36

"Tangor! What are you doing there?!" Mr. Smith barked from somewhere.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:36

"Taking out the rubbish!" I shouted the first thing I could think of, winked at the student, and was off.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:37

As it turned out, Smith was yelling for a reason - the weather had changed dramatically. Even though it was still a long way to evening, there was a thick line of fog creeping in from the sea. It looked very suspicious. Our bosses were in a huff, and we were ordered to grab and carry into the house anything that could be affected by the damp and leave the rest on the spot. The boat started backing up again to anchor somewhere in the middle of the bay, just in case. By the time the shivering white curtain of mist reached the shore, the doors of the prison's only living quarters were tightly closed, and the members of the expedition were making their living arrangements as best they could.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:40

My uncle and I were allocated a corner room overlooking the prison yard (conditionally because there was nothing to see). In the daylight, the room looked cozy, only a little dusty. Uncle checked the repellent spells on the bindings of the windows, clucked his tongue, and touched nothing. There was a thick mist outside as if milk had been poured into the water, the sunlight shining through, and the air seemed to glow faintly. It was an infernal spectacle, not the sort of thing you see in Krowhard.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:51

"Uncle, don't you think it's a bit weird here?"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:52

"The otherworldly," he nodded with an expert look. "It's getting so close to the edge of reality that it's getting on the nerves. Actually, this whole expedition looks like crap."

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:53

"Well, they must have known where they were going."

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:53

"Are you sure?" My uncle sniggered. "The situation could change very quickly. They were expecting to be met. Did you notice? Who was supposed to do that, and where is he now?"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:54

I shuddered; I'd never encountered anything that could take a man's life. The only visitors from the other side of the world in our valley were the chariks, flickers of light that wandered in the fog, quite harmless if you didn't grab them with your hands.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:55

There was a polite knock on the door.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 11:55

"Come in," the uncle suggested.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:13

A white student (they keep getting sent him to the wrong place) looked timidly into the room and said:

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:13

"Mrs. Clements asks everyone to gather downstairs."

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:14

"Come on, let's go!" I tried to remember where I had put my shoes.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:15

"What did she want?" He grumbled and pulled out a pair of felt flip-flops, which I hadn't thought of taking.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:16

"He wants to say goodbye?" I giggled hysterically.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:16

Once upon a time, the prison authorities must have lived in this building: there were no narrow corridors with many doors, the rooms were spacious, and just beyond the front door was a capacious hallway. It was there, among the piles of unpacked things, Mrs. Clements assembled her people. As there were no chairs, everyone sat on the things. The atmosphere at the meeting was unclear: on the one hand, there seemed to be no immediate danger, but on the other hand, something strange was undoubtedly going on. The matter was complicated by the fact that the people of the capital tended to regard the threat of the otherworldly as greatly exaggerated (an attitude one can afford when one lives in a salt marsh) and the idea that even rats were absent from King's Island for a reason was not on their minds. My intuition told me that Krowhard would not forgive such treatment.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:19

The two students were talking in a low voice, and the white one (I remembered his name now: Aleh) sat closer to us (that's right, mages are supposed to stick together) and seemed depressed. Uncle was the only one who appeared at the meeting in his house shoes. Mr. Smith looked as if he had just come out of some tunnel, and he smelled musty. Only Mrs. Clements was cheerful and unperturbed. I thought they would be given a lecture on safety on the island, but instead, the crocodile lady gave a speech about the need to work and work again:

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:20

"The timing of the expedition is extremely limited, and the successful completion of the task requires everyone to be thoughtful and responsible in their work. Dull diligence will not be encouraged. Remuneration may be increased if the project is successfully completed."

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:40

"What are we looking for?" I couldn't help myself.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:40

She measured me with an annoyed look:

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:40

If you'll excuse me, Mr. Tangor, I'll get to that in a minute.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:41

The students chuckled eagerly. I shrugged - three years at Redstone had taught me not to get heated for a trifle.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:43

"This island holds intact the mysteries of the world's oldest civilization!" Mrs. Clements announced pathetically and launched into a lengthy description of someone else's work, referring to authors and reporting the results of the dig. The students concentrated on taking notes.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:44

I disengaged from the conversation because history had never been part of my sphere of interest. The point of collecting a thousand unnecessary objects eluded me. The idea that I could extract a picture of the life of a bygone generation from these shards seemed ridiculous (don't you agree? Try assembling an ordinary alarm clock from disparate parts). I couldn't see the aesthetic value in the shards and rubble. It's a costly fad based on unquenchable human curiosity.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:46

"...and appreciate the level of technomagic development of that era," Mrs. Clements finished another passage.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:46

It took me out of my prostration:

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:47

"Alchemy?"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:47

Mrs. Clements gave me a scornful look.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:48

"Technomagic," she repeated, almost syllabically, "differs from alchemy in its ability to manipulate very fine structures of matter and allows these operations to be performed thousands, hundreds of thousands of times without the slightest deviation from the original."

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:49

I pulled out a box of fuses from the pile of stuff that had survived the conversation with Aleh.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:49

"Like this?" I clarified. And let whoever thinks they deviate from the original throw a stone at me.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:50

She almost shrank back:

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:50

"No! On a much more subtle level, on a level commensurate with the effects of magic!"

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:50

"Lost alchemical techniques," Uncle Gordon concluded knowingly.

Camrad_RIP 19.04.23 в 12:51