Готовый перевод Житие Мое / Life of Mine: Глава 3

Chapter 3

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Protected by magic against all kinds of weather, the transcontinental express looked as if it had just rolled out of the locomotive depot as if it had not been surrounded by the salty winds of the capital, the blizzards of the continental Ingernika, the rapid movement, the alternating sun, rain, and frost. Against the grassy hills of Polisant the train resembled a beautiful child's toy. Only the tiny human figures bustling by the carriages gave away their true size. The hired carriages had already collected the crop of newcomers and were taking them through the hills to where the smooth surface of the vast lake sharply gleamed. Mihandrov was ready to welcome the wanderers, weary of snow and cold, and the express was on its way into the embrace of the humid tropics of the southern coast.

"Shame, what a shame!" wailed a decently dressed gentleman with a " Thirty Years on the Police" badge, clearly inherited.

"Don't worry, sir," the mustachioed chauffeur habitually consoled the chief. "It's not your fault! The station attendant misled you."

"Ah, Alfred, I could have seen him with my own eyes if I had looked around a little!"

The driver did not argue with this. The only car in Mihandrov, sneezing briskly, rolled through the crooked streets. Not too fast, though, for Mr. Clarence needed to exchange greetings with everyone he met, and there were plenty of them on New Year's Eve.

"Oh, Mr. Luman! Uncle Barry! Mother Melonie! Happy holidays, Grandpa Festor!"

Clarence had known half of the inhabitants of Mirandrov since childhood, and he was related to the other half. If the only policeman in town didn't wear his famous badge, the trip would be over almost immediately - then everyone he met would need to be talked to.

"It's the third hour," the driver tried to reason with the boss (he was a freelancer, and overtime during the holidays was not paid separately), "New Year's Eve is coming up. Shouldn't we look for our guest tomorrow?

"You don't understand, Alfred! Black mages are very touchy. We haven't met him, and what if they don't give him a room because of his dog?"

"It seems to me, sir, that the black mage will be able to stand up for himself."

"That's what I'm afraid of!"

The driver tried to hide the heavy sigh behind the noise of the engine, but as the car reached the intersection, the engine had to be turned off: he could not afford to take the wrong road - there was simply no way to turn around in the narrow streets.

"Hello, Mother Tusho!" called out Mr. Clarence to a dried-up old lady in a bonnet and ribbons, pacing somewhere with a puffy bundle in her hands. "Have you seen a stranger with a dog just now?"

"Yes, yes!" smiled Mother Tusho, delighted by the attention of the important man. "They went to Madame Parker's boarding house."

"Thank you," Mr. Clarence smiled sweetly, and Alfred pressed on, for he did not care to spend half an hour explaining himself to an eager old lady. A futile effort! By the time they left the town and reached Madame Parker's cozy two-story mansion, the guest was gone.

"The young man left his things and left," smiled the hostess, a burly, middle-aged woman with glitter in her hair, "He didn't say where. If I had known it was important..."

"That's all right, madam, all our business will wait until tomorrow!" resolutely took matters into his own hands, Alfred. Noticing that the chief was ready to object, he quickly added: "Sir, I think the mage is away on personal business, and he won't like it if we start chasing him."

"Yes, you're right there, my friend," Mr. Clarence gave in. "It can't be helped, we'll have to come tomorrow. Madame Parker, I hope so! Our guest must not be inconvenienced."

"Don't doubt for a minute. Happy New Year!" The hostess smiled coquettishly at Alfred and stalked off to her own guests - the eldest son had brought her first grandson with him for the holidays.

Up close, the Mihandrov boarding school looked imposing: filigree ornaments on the cast-iron gates (they can't make them now), strongly enchanted oil lamps (not all electric ones shine so brightly yet), big bright buildings, its wharf, and a park-like even Uncle of Quater could not afford in Redstone. From the road, I could see cobblestone paths running away, trees in three girths, a strange grove where flowers and fruits quietly neighbored one another, and a garden with flowerbeds where everything was in bloom. Yes, it wasn't Crowheart... I wonder how Joe had managed to send Lucik to such a place without references. Or did he have references?

I suddenly discovered that I knew even less about my stepfather than I did about my dead father. It was normal for a black one, but it was annoying - just when I was ready to find out something, something was bound to happen. I never got to talk to Harlick.

Absorbed by my thoughts, I walked through the gate and froze with the stupidest look, which must be how a leopard feels when it has mistakenly entered the antelope paradise. People were bustling in the square outside the gates (they must have been getting ready for the holiday), and they were all white, absolutely all of them - the students, their teachers, and the few parents who had decided to spend New Year's with their children but had not decided to take them home. Generally speaking, a fifty-fifty ratio is recommended for educational institutions. But either the rest of the students had gone on vacation, or the administration was unable to find enough regular kids in the right proportion. Anyway, even the usher, who greeted the guests in a sequined uniform and a cap with a big pink bow, was white. That's not even cream. That's refined milk.

I must say, this moment of my interaction with Lucik I did not work through. At the university, all the white ones were adults, and at home, they were my own. It wasn't like a bunch of unfamiliar kids with an unknown degree of sanity. How am I supposed to deal with them? I had a hysterical feeling about it! After taking two deep breaths and pouring as much honey into my voice as a tinned student's throat could handle, I approached the gatekeeper:

"Hello. How can I find Luciano Tamironi?"

At least I remembered the last name, and only because Joe wrote me letters.

The gatekeeper looked at me with a mixture of confusion and suspicion. That's what happens when you have a hunch before you realize it, but it's already frightening. That's nice. I haven't done anything yet.

"Thomas!!!" There was a jubilant shriek, and at the same second, Lucik was hanging on my back. And he weighs a lot.

"Hey, brother!" I retorted when I managed to regain my balance. "Here you are. Aren't you late?"

"It's perfect! Come, I'll introduce you to everyone!" And to the already dazed gatekeeper: "This is my brother! He came to see me for the holidays."

And Lucik dragged me to scare people:

"This is Miss Astra, the botany teacher. My brother is here for the holidays! Mr. Tanat, for math. Brother, for the holidays! Classmates. Brother!"

And everywhere we passed there was a plume of shocked silence behind us.

"Hey, what did you tell them about me?"

"That you are the best black mage in Krowhard!"

Ahem... Hopefully, no one will choke on the festive table. But the square and the guests were quickly behind me, and Lucik kept pulling me along:

Now we'll tell the principal that you've arrived, and then I'll show you my room!

Well, the guests will have time to come to their senses and decide where to run. Oh, why do I care about their heart attack?!

But it was not without excesses. We had been a quarter of an hour in search of the elusive principal (I suspected that she was running behind us, but one turns behind) when a gray-haired white man, most likely a mage, in a somewhat old-fashioned coat with a handkerchief in his pocket, appeared in the depths of the park. He was walking in deep thoughtfulness, not looking around, and clearly not at the party.

Lucik's behavior changed dramatically: he stopped jumping, took my hand in a dignified manner, and muttered in a whisper:

"The vice principal, Mr. Fox."

Well, I could understand my timidity in front of the management - even I, a fearless black mage, had sinned about it. For example, take Satal... Dammit

Like civilized people, we approached the gray-haired gentleman and politely greeted him.

"Mr. Fox," Lucik was the embodiment of politeness, "this is my brother, Thomas. I told you about him. He came to celebrate the New Year with us."

Mr. Fox noticed us. His reaction was strange. His eyes widened as he looked at me, and his face contorted into a grimace of almost mystical horror as if a talking ghoul had walked toward him. It was only for a second, and it was hidden by a curly white beard, but I could never take it out of my mouth. Grandpa looked as handsome as in a coffin.

I even felt ashamed.

"Nice to meet you!" I held out my hand to him, but the vice-principal looked at it like a live cobra.

Well, here it is, fainting. It was supposed that the main problem would be the children!

But, no, as soon as I spoke, Mr. Fox came to his senses, and, with some effort, he got a grip on himself. In short, he accepted my outstretched hand.

"Thomas...uh?" he smiled questioningly.

"Tangor! Thomas Tangor." I tried not to shake him too hard.

"A-ah?"

"We have the same mother."

"I see..."

The pallor was slowly draining from Mr. Fox's face.

"I've heard a lot about you."

"I'm flattered!"

"Have you ever been to Mihandrov before?"

"Alas, no."

"And what do you think of our city?"

"Nice."

He stared at me as if he suspected a dirty joke. What was I supposed to say? "Not a bad village, but not many brothels"? Wisely choosing to ignore the incomprehensible, Mr. Fox finally came to his senses, and he even put on his hairdo a little.

"I don't suppose you're staying for the banquet?" he asked in a profane tone.

"What, is there a shortage of food?" I asked practically.

"What does this have to do with..."

Aah! He must have seen drunken black mages.

"Don't worry. I don't tend to abuse alcohol!"

At least in a company like this.

"And it won't be on the table," the vice-principal reported with some schadenfreude.

"All the more so." I've always wanted to know what white ones do for fun. "I could tell a joke."

"Don't," Mr. Fox asked very seriously.

"I won't," I compliantly agreed.

At this point, Lucik saw fit to intervene.

"Thomas will be at the party," he declared with some pressure. "I talked to Mrs. Hemul about him, and she agreed."

"She just didn't think he was coming after all," Fox smiled condescendingly.

Uncharacteristically vile for a white one. What does he do in front of the child?

"Do you master telepathy?" I asked with trepidation in my voice, catching his gaze - it makes white ones very nervous. "Or are you that close?"

"Who's been spreading filthy rumors about me?" a melodious female voice sang cheerfully. The local principal was young, pretty, and a white mage, as evidenced by a daisy brooch made of rock crystal, which seemed to be the symbol of a school of healers. I could tell by her intense stare that she had already been notified of the event and had come to save everyone.

"You see, Principal, Luciano's half-brother came to the party," Fox said meaningfully.

Why is he talking about me like I don't present? I took the initiative, moved his shoulder, and flourished the most charming smile I could muster:

"Thomas Tangor at your service! Unfortunately, we were not introduced. Lucik told me so much about his school that I just couldn't resist the temptation. I hope I'm not interrupting?"

"'Oh, no!" she protested weakly, and I intercepted her hand and kissed it.

Mr. Fox almost shuddered. The old lecher!

"I'll go arrange for another chair." And Mrs. Hemul, who was blushing with embarrassment, rushed off.

"You're just for tonight?" cautiously clarified Lucik.

"Why?" I wondered. "For the whole two weeks. The climate here is amazing! I just got off the train. I'll bring presents tomorrow. If you don't like anything, give it to your friends."

Fox snorted indignantly. What did I say wrong?

We wandered around the grounds, accompanied everywhere by the vigilant head teacher. We strolled through the garden and greenhouse, looked at the pond and creek (why do they need this mock swamp when the real lake is just a short walk away?), visited the boarding ponies, and sat in Lucik's room. I'll be damned... Let's face it. It was worth the tuition money.

The non-alcoholic banquet promised by the head teacher began at a quarter to eight sharp.

Naturally, the children were not seated next to me, not counting Lucik, but it was even better this way: adults have longer arms when they need to pass something. I tasted all the unfamiliar dishes methodically, putting the tastiest pieces on my brother's plate from my point of view. There was a distinct lack of meat among the treats, but to think what would happen if they brought a whole roast pig into the hall, it was better to do without it.

Lucik didn't pay attention to the food. He was in a hurry to tell me the events of the past four months in great detail. I nodded as usual and wondered how he managed to remember not only what he saw, where he saw it, but what he was thinking at that moment. I wish I could take my feelings out on somebody and swear at the teacher, complain about the impudent demon (I have not heard anything from Rustle today), and cry on his shoulder about my ruined youth. However, this is induced psychosis, blacks do not behave this way, and for a combat mage, excessive talkativeness is generally considered pathological. I ate twice as much as usual with these thoughts in mind, and I was completely stupefied.

You could forget about interesting conversation right away. The couple across from me was discussing with their daughter the style of her summer dress: "White lace?" "Lacey, lacey!" - and so on for ten minutes straight. After that, Edan Satal didn't seem so ugly. And I wondered where all those weird books about talking rabbits came from, where all the characters talked like they had hydraulic brakes instead of brains! Good thing there was no liquor on the table. From the first drink I would have been irresistibly carried away, and the cute kids would have learned a lot about human physiology and student life.

Maybe I should run away. I mean, finish my business trip early. I couldn't bear to spend two weeks in that kind of environment. But when I remember it's cold and snowy in Redstone, and Quarter is turning gay... I'd rather have the company of whites.

After two hours, there was a break in the banquet, and the guests were invited to stretch and dance. I was not much of a dancer, and I ate too much. While an amateur orchestra was being recruited from the students and their parents, I managed to drag a chair to the opposite corner of the hall from the dancers and settle there comfortably.

An audience quickly gathered around my person. This attention didn't bother me: white people are like sparrows. The most they can do is drop on your head.

"Is it true?" plucked up the courage of the most desperate kid.

"What exactly?" I clarified good-naturedly.

"That you're a black mage," he blurted out as if he wanted me to confess my cannibalism.

I was possessed by an attack of rare decency.

"The correct word is a battle mage," I reprimanded the little boy affectionately. "Yes, I'm a battle mage."

There was a tense silence as they scrutinized me for any unusual body parts. I wonder if these guys had ever seen a black one in their lives.

"They think," Lucik noted caustically, "that a black mage must necessarily wear a hubcap and a staff."

I rolled my eyes!

"The staff is only good for use as a club, and hubcaps went out of fashion two hundred years ago."

"Have you seen the monster?" dared the little girl, who resembled an angel: big blue eyes, pink cheeks, and two huge white bows on her thin pigtails.

"You mean otherworldly phenomena? Of course, I saw them. Lots of them!"

"It can't be!" The small, bespectacled man, who was clutching a teddy bear, protested desperately.

"It can!" I mentally showed Captain Ber my tongue and showed the kids my temporary ID card. "NZAMIPS. Making the world a better place is our job! Don't worry about a thing, little ones. Uncle Thomas won't let you get hurt."

The youngsters took possession of the card and began to twirl it, admiring the watchdog logo, shimmering in all the colors of the rainbow, and the fine ornamentation around the enchanted seal. I, for my part, carefully concealing gloating, watched Mr. Fox at the other end of the room, trying to convince Mrs. Hamul of something while squinting angrily at me. I was never very good at lip-reading, but no skill was needed here-the young principal thought it would do the children good to talk to a well-meaning black man.

"Like little kids," Lucik muttered in my ear, and I agreed with him wholeheartedly.

All the children here looked much younger than their age. Even Sister Emmy, not yet rid of her diction defect, seemed a model of judgment and sanity in comparison. That's what happens when white folks lack a breadth of communication! I was determined to do my best to remedy the situation during the two weeks I would be here.
* * *

"You are putting children's lives at risk!!!"

"Don't be silly." White is not easy to anger, but Mrs. Hemul's reserves of patience are seriously depleted. "Luciano has known his brother all his life, and he has no health problems."

"Our kids aren't ready for these kinds of encounters!"

"And that's too bad, Mr. Fox. We must seize this wonderful opportunity! The young man is exceptionally well-mannered, well-bred, and well-educated. The children will have nothing but positive impressions of him."

"Your predecessor behaved differently, Mrs. Hemul."

"My predecessor hasn't been here for over a year, Mr. Fox, and you know why. We agreed that the teaching methodology had to change. You supported the action of the Board of Trustees, didn't you, or has your position changed since then?"

"Take my word for it. This is going to end very badly!"

"That's up to us. I don't understand your position! If you can't keep your students in line, say so directly. Ms. Riemann had the courage to admit her shortcomings. We can ask the board for an increase in staff..."

When the door closed behind the vice-principal, Mrs. Hemul shook her head sadly. It's not easy for a white man to use authority, but a principal of ordinary people was not even discussed by the trustees. God knows she's only doing it for the children. Hard as it is to admit, they shouldn't have to live as if in a greenhouse, and the empaths were completely on her side in that regard.

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