Готовый перевод Житие Мое / Life of Mine: Глава 6

Chapter 6

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The boys accepted the idea of camping with naive enthusiasm. It was their own fault! Lucik was just a kid, and my uncle Gordon had once dragged me out into the countryside, promising to lead me along the Trail of the Brave, which is a historical landmark. I distinctly remember how I cursed my ancestors at that time. My uncle never managed to catch me on the "weak" again, and in the absence of a black mage, a night walk through Krowhard turned into a cool extreme. I reasonably assumed that after running around the hills, the kids would forget about me for a long time. The only thing that mattered was that I didn't get exhausted.

I entrusted the packing to Lucik as the most reasonable one and left early to buy some necessary things and shoes since the ones I had were not suitable for long walks. I had to wander around Mihandrov stores, and at the same time, I had to stop by the Society for the Protection of Animals to return a folder to the lieutenant and check some theories.

The head of everything was expectantly in place. When I appeared, he slammed down some magazine, either reading or writing and stood up to meet me:

"Good evening, Mr. Tangor!"

Instead of a handshake, I handed him a folder and plopped into the visitor's chair.

"Lieutenant, how's the crime situation here?"

He shrugged:

"None."

"What about before?"

His gaze clouded over:

My father died in a bank robbery.

"Um... So how were they going to escape?"

"I have no idea."

That's an interesting question, considering the only way to get here is by train. Or were they going across the steppe on horseback?...? I concentrated on the case with some effort:

"Do you keep statistics?"

"Of course!"

He went to the closet and brought out a folder of annual reports. I rustled through the papers for about ten minutes.

"Dates of the disappearances?"

Clarence pulled a sheet filled with last names from the table.

"Hmm... So, it turns out that ten years ago, after the first disappearances, your little crime spree died down. And then these suicides started."

The lieutenant nodded silently.

I concentrated on digging through the mountains of information on general magic we'd been taught at the university. Damn it, I was going to be an alchemist! My knowledge of the theory was purely one-sided.

"I give up. I can't imagine a magical influence that could cause such an effect."

"I can imagine," Clarence reported quietly.

I squinted suspiciously at the lieutenant:

"So you've noticed there's some strange magical background in the vicinity of your town pressurizing the psyche?"

"Anyone who has ever left and returned is capable of noticing this, but White finds it difficult to identify the external source of his mood."

Suggestible. I cracked my fist on the table:

"Why didn't you say so in the first place? So much time wasted!"

"Say - what?" burst out the lieutenant. "I have nothing but a feeling! You should have realized it yourself."

I closed my eyes and started counting. To thirty-five.

"So, what is it? Let's not beat around the bush. We're running out of time."

I'll have to beat him up when this is over.

"In theory, there's a protection spell whose side effect is an emotional backlash that suppresses aggression," Clarence explained, and he took my rudeness with surprising calm. "It could potentially become deadly, but I can't imagine a white one being able to use it on anyone but himself. Nine times in a row."

"And I've met one in person."

However, the late Laurent did it only three times, but his colleague here has clearly set a record.

I roll this construct - the aggression-suppressing rollback - in my mind, trying to estimate the extent of its effect on the surrounding reality. Who knew I'd need a knowledge of white magic! But the fact that Rustle had suddenly disengaged from me suggested bad thoughts. The effect of the magic was draining the environment of some very important components.

"Can you imagine how this could end?"

The lieutenant blinked, so he was imagining it.

"And why are you still here?"

"What about the town, the people?"

A true white one, what can you take from him? He wants to join NZAMIPS. He wants to be a hero.

"Will you confirm my words?" Clarence sprang to life.

"It's useless," I dismissed it. "We only have circumstantial evidence - statistics, feelings - but real people are dying out there every day. There are assholes in the leadership," I thought about Satal, who won't scratch his head until it's too late.

"What about the responsibility to society?!"

I rolled my eyes. He's just like a little kid!

"Wake up, man! In Redstone, the Cleaning missed three century-old ghouls. Doesn't that mean anything to you?"

"But... What to do?"

He didn't panic about anything. I thought the best thing to do was to grab Lucik and run, but when it hit here (and it would, for sure), Satal would drown me in shit, and I wouldn't be able to show my face to my family again. This was not how Lucik had pictured his older brother!

"We'll work." I tried to focus. I came here to check my suspicions. "By the way, maybe you know the name of the killer?"

Clarence shook his head:

"No. It's someone from the staff at the boarding school, but after the scandal, many of them quit, so now he may not be here."

Lovely! The guilty party got away, and we're gonna clean up his mess.

"Whatever!" I slammed my palm on my knee. "The shield had been pumping out potentials for ten years, and there was no way to change that. Let's provoke it!"

"Ah?"

"Yeah. We need to get some of your Cleanup Crew out here and use any excuse to make them stay. Then do some community outreach, and put up repellent signs around the city and residential buildings. There haven't been any victims for a year, and the shield's about to come down, and then it's gonna get hot. All the crap it's been pushing out of here for ten years is gonna come rushing back in."

"Do you think it's time to train volunteers?"

"It was time yesterday, and tomorrow will be too late. How's your theory?"

He put a stack of brochures on the table. I flipped through one: Trunk Bay Printing. Home, sweet home!

It fits. Make up an excuse. Lie if you have to, hoax if you have to. You're a mage, after all. I'll report to my management, but while they're negotiating... In general, it's up to the drowning to save the drowning.

That was the end of it.

I returned to the guesthouse in a state of quiet amazement. I went on vacation! I chose the shittiest town I could find. I wouldn't be here if I didn't have two restless white ones with me. I wonder who told Joe to send his son here.

* * *

Edan Satal was hung over from a long holiday, and he preferred to work, which made Behr suspect that the senior coordinator was afraid of scaring someone.

"Boo?"

Steamtrain looked into his superior's teary eyes and decided the statutory greeting would be outright mockery in this situation.

A telegram from Mihandrov.

Satal ran the paper over with one eye and pushed it away in disgust:

"Do you think this is news?"

The captain was a little surprised:

"A magical phenomenon of this magnitude is a pretty disturbing sign. It could potentially provoke a concentrated burst of otherworldly energy...."

The Coordinator fumbled for a mug of some murky concoction on the table (Ber was no good at potions) and took a few large gulps. He felt a little better.

"Axel's got a desk full of these messages. Artrom County's notorious for it. Half of them are from weather spells. The rest are ancient unidentified stuff. Wandering white magic's a hell of a thing. White Halak was standing there! Tell him to dig deeper. Axel wants specifics. He asked me to solve a problem, not report it."

Steamtrain did not slam the door - too petty - and did not cling to the officer with valuable instructions either. He was not a little kid. But he sent a copy of the telegram to Artrom, just in case. Let them know that the messages were not going only to them. The captain's theory was that the otherworldly forces didn't care about the presence or absence of evidence. Last year the number of registered phenomena in Redstone alone had increased by three hundred percent, despite all the perimeters and signs, and Behr didn't want to be the one who knew about the impending disaster and did nothing about it.

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Переведено на Нотабеноиде
http://notabenoid.org/book/85505/554239

Переводчики: Camrad_RIP