Готовый перевод Житие Мое / Life of Mine: Глава 4

Chapter 4

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On the morning of the first day, I woke up with the first rays of the sun, which is not typical for me during the holidays. What could I do? The kids were sent to bed at eleven o'clock sharp yesterday (cruel, in my opinion), and I had no time to find a place in Mihandrov where a lone black magician could hang out. A little sleepy hostess served coffee on the open veranda. Max lay at my feet and successfully imitated a bored dog. It was surprisingly quiet as if we were not in the city at all. I could have sat in the creaky rocking chair with a blanket over my shoulders and a cup of coffee in my hand forever. Naturally, this happiness could not last long.

A car with a distinctive striped coloring drove up to the boarding house, squealing with the transmission. Why is it that when it is a public office, the alchemist always has a crooked hand? I longingly watched as the driver strutted with the mistress. For some reason, I was sure he had not come to see her. And so he did! After receiving instructions, the newcomer headed for the veranda.

Max reached up and yawned widely, hoping the man didn't have time to look at his mouth in detail.

"Good morning!" The driver lifted his cap.

"Good morning!" I tried to smile politely. Was it the boarding school that complained about me, or were the local services vigilant?

"We offer our deepest apologies for yesterday. We were ready to meet you, but there was an unfortunate misunderstanding! We're very sorry."

Meet me? Oh yeah, yesterday at the station, some clowns were jumping around the baggage car, but since I took Max in the compartment anyway, I didn't turn in my luggage either.

So someone from Redstone called here. Wow, they're so vigilant. That's one word - Watchdogs.

"It's no big deal," I shrugged.

He relaxed noticeably.

"Mr. Clarence is inquiring when you can meet with him?"

I wondered. There were still two hours until the Myhandrov boarding school opened for visitors, and there was absolutely nothing to occupy them with.

"Let's do it now. Let me just get my papers!"

He smiled, and I went to my room to lock up the zombie and get the travel papers. Maybe I could convince the bosses here to put all the stamps in one piece, so I wouldn't have to go a second time. It was nice to know that Mihandrov Watchdog works from nine o'clock on holidays. What a bunch of workers! What can they do here anyway?

For the next half an hour, the chauffeur drove concentratedly through the narrow, paved streets of the days of the Inquisition, and I wrinkled my nose and tried not to listen to the tones of the poorly tuned engine. I would have to go under the hood, purely out of compassion - the car was simply being killed.

The police in Mihandrov occupied a neat one-story building sandwiched between a hotel and a bakery. To the left of the door, three signs were hanging one below the other: "Mihandrov Criminal Police," "Mihandrov NZAMIPS Department," and, for some reason, "Mihandrov Society for the Protection of Animals." I remember being surprised at how they all fit in there, but when I opened the door, everything fell into place: in the tiny office behind the only desk sat, judging by the sign, Lieutenant Rudolf Clarence, the sole chief of everything and everything and at the same time - here I stared at the official suspiciously - initiated white. Curtain. What genius thought of entrusting oversight to a white mage? Curious to see who they have working on the cleanup...

I closed my eyes and started counting to ten. No, it was better to count to twenty. I had the feeling that my favorite teacher had managed to find something for me to do over the holidays.

"So," I said quite calmly after about a minute, "what's our problem?"

And the fact that there are problems in such a place was quite obvious.

"Uh..." The disoriented lieutenant tried to remember where he was going to start the introduction. Then he brightened up: "Rudolph Clarence!"

"Thomas Tangor."

We shook hands. I struggled with the feeling that what was happening here was nonsense. White ones have taken over the world. They're everywhere!

"You have no idea how glad we are to have you here! We've been waiting for you, waiting so long, I've gone to the head office three times and personally filed reports, but Senior Coordinator Axel is so intolerant..."

I courageously suppressed a groan:

"Let's discuss the case first!"

He nodded eagerly and stared at me. We were quiet.

"So what exactly happened?" I couldn't stand it.

"Wasn't it explained to you?"

"Let's assume that I wish to learn everything from the source."

"That's very wise," Clarence agreed, fidgeted in his chair, and began to tell the story: "It all started a year ago, after a scandal. NZAMIPS was investigating the suicide of a graduate of the Mihandrov boarding school, and in the process, it turned out that twelve former students had committed suicide in the last eight years. All were white."

The lieutenant's voice cracked with emotion, and my eyebrows crept uncontrollably upward. White suicide is an exceptionally rare occurrence. To drink, to go crazy, that's fine, but to commit suicide, that hardly ever happens.

"It's just horrible!" Even thinking about what had happened seemed to give Clarence a hard time. "The old principal resigned, and a commission was working, but that's not the point. I was part of the investigation and noticed that the whereabouts of the four foster children had never been determined. Of course, these boys were rather unsociable, with no close family or friends, but white ones don't tend to go anywhere! And then, I juxtaposed these facts with my own experience. You see, Mihandrov is not such a small town. All the residents know each other, but not so close that every step is in sight. So, according to my observations, at least five lonely white ones have moved out for no apparent reason.

+++ To relatives who don't exist, to a town no one knows the name of, just for business, and that was it. Two left personal belongings in their apartments, and the landlords had to put them somewhere in case the owners returned. Of course, all of this is my speculation, but it seems strange! I asked the central office to investigate potential otherworldly phenomena. My three appeals were answered only once, and I was told to wait.

Naturally! No body, no case. It's normal practice, but Lieutenant Clarence looked genuinely distressed.

"They must have all the men in the world," I consoled him. You can't tell a man that he's a fool. "Especially the ones who can still do the job. The otherworldly's activity has increased in the last four years, and the staff is old and shrunken. In Redstone, it wasn't until the ghouls ate the former chief of clearance that things got moving. No kidding."

"But you came!" Clarence flinched.

It would be more correct to say that I fell in it.

"I have a brother who goes to your boarding school."

My Lucik is in that snake's den! He must be taken from there. But where? Where is the guarantee that another school will be better? And where's the guarantee that all the missing people aren't living happily ever after on the South Coast somewhere... um... along with the suicides. Don't panic: I've got two weeks to figure this stuff out and draw conclusions, but I'm running out of time.

"Well, your suspicions are quite understandable, Lieutenant. Though, it doesn't look at all like the undead, more like a homicidal maniac. We'll get to work. Do you have any information on the missing men?"

"Of course!" Clarence smiled again. "I've compiled detailed dossiers."

He pulled out a cardboard box from somewhere under the table and began to take out the puffy folders.

"Can I take this with me?"

"Yes."

"One more request: let my participation in the case remain a secret. Why frighten the common people for nothing? The presence of a black mage is already a serious test for their nerves."

This is in addition to the fact that I might not be allowed to see Lucik.

"Of course I understand," Lieutenant nodded with the look of a conspirator.

"And if they ask what I was doing here, you say you're watching out for the dangerous guy."

He nodded twice as vigorously. And so we parted. As we walked to the door, I asked the question that had been bugging me:

"Tell me, who works in your group for the Elimination of Dangerous Phenomena?"

His look became a little guilty. Ouch!

"I see. Thank you. Goodbye."

I need to get out of this madhouse! I took one of the folders. I wasn't going to read more. I was just curious as to what the police might know about a man who had done nothing wrong. The chauffeur, who introduced himself as Alfred, took me back to Madame Parker. He couldn't resist standing up for the chief:

"Don't think wrong, sir. Mr. Clarence takes his duties very seriously. He does a lot for the city."

"Mm-hmm. For example, in the field of animal welfare."

Alfred did not object loudly, but it was obvious that he was angry:

"Do you think that if a man is kind, he can't show firmness at the right moment?"

I sighed heavily and answered frankly:

"White is physically unable to do the job he took on. Successfully, I mean. You're just lucky nothing happened here! If I were you, I'd buy a guidebook on the rules of communicating with the otherworldly - the Krowhard branch is putting them out in plenty now - and count only on yourself. It would be better for everyone."

Alfred was silent. I hoped that he would at least think about what I'd said.

Half an hour later, I was sitting on the veranda of Madame Parker's guesthouse again, but the state of blissful indifference had not returned. It was another proof that there is no heaven on earth! But Lucik must not sense my change of mood. There was no need to frighten the little ones. I sighed and began to recreate the meditation formulas in my mind. I was about to demonstrate to the world the wonders of self-control.

* * *
Mrs. Hemul watched through the window the second coming of the black mage, about whom the pupils had been whispering since the morning. The horrible monster, smiling good-naturedly, was helping his brother gut the parcels of gifts. Considering the number of the latter, it was a truly titanic task. Mr. Fox sniffed tensely behind the headmaster's shoulder, rubbing his palms incessantly and unnerving her with it. What was going on would not have attracted so much attention if Luciano had come to the exciting meeting alone, but the white man from Krowhard (a phrase that doesn't fit in the mind) had brought a friend with him.

"Petros isn't ready to talk to outsiders!" whispered Mr. Fox in his boss's ear. "You know how sensitive he is!"

The thin, sickly boy was considered a distant relative of the vice-principal and was the subject of his constant concern.

Mrs. Hemul was inclined to disagree with her colleague. With supernatural perspicacity, in fifteen minutes, the black one had managed to gain the child's trust and had handed him a bag of candy and a large glass ball with a unicorn on it. The beautiful, shimmering with all the colors of the rainbow object completely captivated the kid. Sitting down right on the path, Petros admiringly admired the running of the illusory horse, scooping handfuls of candy from the bag and pouring them into his mouth without looking. And before that painfully shy boy never took anything from strangers! Had it not been on boarding school grounds, Mrs. Hemul would have been the first to rush to save the child from immoral abuse.

Luciano suddenly discovered that the unpacked gifts took up twice as much space, and the process went in the opposite direction.

Perhaps if the situation at the boarding school had not been so alarming, Mrs. Hemul would have acceded to the wishes of the vice-principal (something threatening? Get rid of it!). But the school at Mihandrov was sick, and the best empaths could not prescribe medicine. What to say? The principal left her children, two odd twins, in Artrom when she went here. So far, the parents believe the Board of Trustees, but if the warning signs observed by the commission are not eliminated in a year, the authorities will close the boarding school - no one wants to be responsible for the possible deaths of the pupils. And the district's oldest educational institution will cease to exist. Less than six months to go.

But why?! In the name of the Powers, what are they doing wrong? The intuition of a practicing mage, and not a weak one, told Mrs. Hemul that the solution was closer than one might think, and this strange black one would be part of it. He had been fiddling with the children for half an hour, and from the outside, he seemed to enjoy the incessant chatter of the little ones. This is not normal! Not a single harsh word, not an aggressive gesture. Indifferent, like a cat.

Petros demands attention and grabs the sleeve of his light-colored jacket with his dirty hand. Here, now... No, he leans over, listens, answers with a serious look, unobtrusively addresses both boys, unites them by talking, and leaves them to discuss what has been said with each other. Subtle technique! Gesticulating vigorously, Petros drops the ball. Oh! The glass object bounces unharmed down the path - protective magic. Clever... This sort of mastery of the situation was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable.

Mrs. Hemul made a decision:

"You're wrong, Mr. Fox!"

Noticing the change in her mood, the vice-principal tensed up a little.

"I consider Mr. Tangor's visit," Mrs. Hemul continued, "to be the biggest stroke of luck this year. I think he's the last chance to make the situation in the school healthier. We've tried everything, and we haven't turned to the blacks for help. If you have a different opinion, please keep it to yourself or appeal directly to the Board of Trustees. As long as I'm the principal here, Mr. Tangor will be free to visit the boarding school and communicate with any of its students."

"Petros doesn't need the intervention of a rude, selfish ..."

"Petros is seriously underdeveloped, even when adjusted for the awakening of Source. You must agree that when the period of primary fragmentation of consciousness drags on until the age of ten, it is already alarming! Luciano was the only one with whom he could communicate regularly. And his brother is the first person in whose presence he doesn't hide in his shell like a frightened snail. I advise you to appreciate that."

The relationship with the vice-principal was damaged. Mrs. Hemul could tell by the way the man's chin twitched in resentment. The conventional wisdom was that concern with hierarchy was the prerogative of blacks, but all men are brothers and white ones sometimes are, too. Mr. Fox thinks she's an irresponsible brat. He can't help it; perhaps later he'll understand her motives, though at his age... I don't think so.

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