Готовый перевод Житие Мое / Life of Mine: Глава 8

Chapter 8

* * *

The next day I relaxed and slept until eleven o'clock without any remorse. I have the right! They sent me on a business trip instead of a vacation, and I was working hard without a day off. It was good that the hostess of the guesthouse was understanding: if yesterday, after three hours of combing out zombies, I could not take a bath (it was at the second hour of the night), the whole Mihandrov would have burned with blue flames with crimson sparks. Nervous breakdowns aren't just for white ones!

When I looked into the boarding school for pro forma purposes, I found that my diversion had borne unexpected fruit: instead of playing pioneers and building huts, the children were arguing passionately. It looked hilarious in the white one's performance: everyone was standing and talking at the same time, fast and quick, probably without even listening to each other's words. I went over to listen to what was bothering them so much.

"Thomas!" Lucik finally noticed me.

The kids came around me with such speed that I even flinched.

"Tell me, tell me," Lucik tugged at my sleeve, "why do snakes shed their skin?"

"Because they always have," I shrugged, "why not?"

"But I'm not shedding my skin!"

Mama mia, that's what they were nearly hysterical about? Yeah, I can't be an empath. I just don't get it.

"Brother, you molt all the time, but a snake only molts once a year. You don't know who's more comfortable."

"Really?" Lucik frowned, puzzled.

"Yeah! No need to bathe and it doesn't stink." If I remember correctly, snakes didn't have sweat glands at all.

"But the snake will be cold," sobbed the girl with the bows, "she needs clothes."

I imagined a snake in my coat and laughed. It was probably extremely uneducational, but I couldn't stop myself.

"And the buttons? I squeezed myself through my tears. "How do snake button the buttons?"

The kids were puzzled. Oh, that's crazy! I knew, of course, that white ones have a specific vision of the world, but to such an extent... No, you have to be lenient, make discounts for age, after all. I tried to put it in simpler terms:

"Humans invented clothes because they are bald, but snakes don't need coats, and neither do mice. Where they live, a coat is good for them. They're animals! Don't they tell you anything about animals?"

"A snake is a reptile," the bespectacled boy with the teddy bear corrected politely.

"Well done! Then you know the snake is cold-blooded. Why does it need a coat if it's warming itself outside?" I ruffled Lucic's hair. "Don't you worry about it! Snakes have been on earth for a million years, so they have everything they need."

"The teacher said that some species of snakes are becoming extinct," the bespectacled kid reported.

That's what this is all about! A bizarre run of associations, though.

"Animals are dying out because people are plowing fields and building houses. Animals need nature, and if they're not disturbed, they'll be fine. Understand?"

Everyone's suddenly calm. That's fine. The main thing is that the children did not come to mind to ask the sacramental question about roast piglets - on this topic, I can not talk calmly, but I know a lot of jokes. A vegetarian married a butcher's daughter.....

Couldn't the retardation be a result of the impact of the rollback? On the other hand, teachers should think before they say anything. I clawed my brother out of the group of peaceful whites and took him for a walk in the park, vaguely feeling the absence of something important.

"Where's Petrick?"

The little brother sighed:

"Mr. Fox won't let him go out."

"What do you mean, he won't let him out?" I was stunned.

"Mr. Fox says that Petrik is sick, and Petrik wrote a note saying that he has no pain, just his feet a little sore."

Holy shit, they're already exchanging notes, the little conspirators! Should I go and argue with the vice principal? If I wanted to take this crazy kid under my wing, then yes, I had to immediately rush into battle, but it suddenly occurred to me that if Petrik disappears from the horizon, taking Lucik from Mihandrov will be not much easier. So I decided to proceed by civilized methods:

"Let's go talk to the Principal."

Mrs. Hemul was happy to see me, but she looked tired and jittery, and a mage's emotional and physical state are tightly linked. As if by magic, jasmine tea and a basket with shaped cookies appeared on the table, and Lucik began to rummage through it, looking for "the sun". She understood the meaning of the question at once:

This is an unfortunate incident, a completely unacceptable situation. Mr. Fox surprised me unpleasantly. Let's face it, he reacted very painfully to your appearance, but I was sure he was dealing with his emotions. And suddenly... And most importantly, completely unmotivated! The problem is that Mr. Fox is Petros's legal guardian, and he has the power to simply pick the boy up from school and take him away. I need time to find Mrs. Kormalis and settle this matter. Unfortunately, she is not in Mihandrov now.

"She left unexpectedly, didn't she?" I got a bad feeling in my stomach.

"Just before the holidays," Mrs. Hemul nodded. "I'm sure she'll be back soon."

Maybe she'd come back. I was sure that Clarence's attention and the work of the commission had quieted the maniac, but what if it hadn't? Then again, such complicated coincidences just don't happen.

"I'm glad you're not letting it go to waste."

She looked a little embarrassed:

In that regard, I have a request for you both.....

I can see where she's going with this.

"Mr. Tangor, could I ask you to refrain from visiting the school for a while?"

"You okay, bro?"

Lucik's face reflected the hard struggle between several mutually exclusive desires.

"If that's what it takes for Petrick... How long?"

"Just for a couple of days," Mrs. Hemul reassured him.

"Just keep in mind that I'm here through the holidays, no longer," I warned.

"Don't worry, this misunderstanding will be resolved very quickly."

"All right. Then I'll call you tomorrow."

My brother and I finished our tea and said goodbye to Mrs. Hemul.

Lucik walked me to the gate, and we sat in the park for a while. I finally came to the conclusion that I wouldn't leave my brother alone in Mihandrov with the spell and the psychotic teachers. I didn't have the right of custody, but I was paying the tuition, and I'd be damned if Joe didn't do what I wanted.

"I'm seriously telling you, think about changing schools. Redston's a big city, lots of activities, a zoo."

"What if it's like that everywhere?" asked Lucik sadly.

"No, there's obviously some kind of pathology here."

"And what do you think is wrong with our school?" Fox was right there.

The principal looked cheerful, no doubts plaguing him. He seemed to be in a hurry to push me out of the gate and hovered over Lyuchik so bossily that I almost hit him with a curse.

I shrugged indifferently:

"You, for example. A normal teacher wouldn't lie in front of his students."

He was even taken aback:

"I'm never..."

"Milosh? Why did you lie to him that his cat would be with him forever? As if you don't know how long cats live and how long people live!"

He was amazed. Did he think I couldn't see anything, couldn't hear anything?

"Was I supposed to say his pet would die in his arms?" smiled Fox softly, recovering from his surprise.

"You should have said the kitten was not invented for his amusement. Kitten wants to walk on rooftops, love cats, and mark his territory. To want something from him that doesn't fit his nature is selfishness, and to demand immortality is necromancy. Are you suggesting that Milosh should be raised a necromancer?"

Fox even turned pale:

"Zombies are more your thing," he almost hissed.

That's where I didn't argue:

"Yes, I make them, but I can destroy them, and Milosh can only manage the first part at best. What's the guy gonna do when he realizes the reanimated corpse is no longer his pet?"

I could feel the attention building with my skin, I was being looked at from all sides, and I wanted to be pathos:

"You should love the world as it is, not pick the most delicious things out of it like raisins out of a bun. Not everything you like is good, and not everything that hurts you is evil. There are girls among your students. How will you explain childbirth to them?"

He even turned green here.

"You don't like babies?" I murmured. "Or don't know where they come from?"

Fox turned and ran. Know our kind! All the white kids that were huddled together in the square broke apart with a quiet shur-shur-shur-shur. I had beaten Fox with a white-specific weapon - I gave a different explanation - and now they would not rest until they determined which one was correct. Poor teachers! I'll be honest: the phrase about the bun was a homemade one. I made it up when I was trying to get rid of nightmares caused by visions of White Halak.

A black one with nightmares! They'll laugh at me if I tell anyone.

"If you decide to stay here," I said to Lucik, "never listen to what that man says. He's coo-coo!"

"I thought so too," Lucik nodded very seriously, "but I don't know why."

Who knows how tired I am of this baby talk!

"Do you give a shit why?" I snorted. "A teacher should understand more than his students, not just talk convincingly. A theorist of life, darn"

Thus, I got the weekend off after all. Now I had enough time to wander around Mihandrov and visit all its few sights. But, actually, it was not about it. The town was interesting in itself. There is such a state, antiquity without dilapidation, which will never acquire shabby shacks hanging on each other. It is laid with the first stone in the foundation, grows for centuries, and is completely killed if you dilute the ancient infusion with at least a drop of modern design. So, Mihandrov was soaked in this remedy that its age became almost impossible to determine. I'm sure that this is how the city was before the spell appeared, and it will be the same many years later: white walls, slate roofs, low stone fences - like illustrations in a school textbook.

However, there were no vineyards around Mihandrov (Alfred had said something to that effect, but I had no memory of it), but there was a man who lived near the embankment and supplied the whole town with fresh beer. I knew the way to his place on the second day. It was a stylish cellar with huge barrels, wooden tables, and garlic cords. The only thing that distinguished it from the best restaurants in Redstone was the lack of a fireplace (why would there be one?) and a somewhat limited menu (mostly fish). I was seriously considering whether I should get a house in Mihandrov, though, if you think about what it's like here in the middle of summer.....

I know it sounds selfish, but a break from white ones was vital to me. After all, a mage's physical state depends on his mental state. Besides, the emissaries from Artrom should arrive in the city soon, and the abrupt transition to communicating with battle mages is bad for your health. Who needs cripples afterward?

I couldn't get drunk with light beer. They didn't sell any stronger liquors in Mihandrov, and I was too lazy to go to the station for it, so I went back to the guesthouse, rocking in the wicker chair, dozing, and thinking about how nasty it was for Satal in Redstone. Clarence didn't bother me. It was suppertime, and the smells of fried fish wafted in from the kitchen windows. Fish everywhere.

And then it blew.

No, there was no sound, just the sensation of a big, toothy saw through my nerves. Max, who had been soaking in a tub of preservative since morning, howled hoarsely. I told him to shut up and sit in the bathtub. Then I pressed the signal in my pocket and rushed for my exorcist's kit: the unforgettable sensation that grated on my nerves could only mean one thing: an otherworldly phenomenon had appeared nearby.

With a staff and a bag in my hands (ugh, just like in a fairy tale!) I was rushing to where my intuition categorically forbade me to go. And I was in a hurry, breaking straight ahead, cutting corners on such slopes, where one wrong step - and you head down flying to the lake. And I was glad that I had to run not towards the boarding school. Somewhere halfway up, I came across Fox wheezing on the ascent. I overtook him, and while the white one was climbing the slope, I made a loop along the road, breaking into the neglected garden on the other side, being the first. And there in front of me was ONE large open space covered in ashy gray dust. I mean, covered now - there used to be grass and bushes.

"Witch's Bane!" Fox exhaled as he made his way up through the wild rose thicket.

I wonder how he knows. Witch's Bane is a rare undead and surprisingly difficult to eliminate: the heart of infection is deep in the ground, so the usual pentagram will not work on it. Unless you agree to dig a meter and a half deep, standing right in the heart of the infection. And then I had to back up - the border of the Bane moved perceptibly towards me.

"I've never seen them grow so fast!" I exhaled in shock.

"What do we do?!" Fox shrieked in panic.

That's his composure.

"I'll take care of the case. You go to the house and get the men out. They're too close."

It was close - that's not the word for it, you could see down the slope of the roof. You could reach it with a spit. I had Watchdog's signal in my pocket, but it was of little use: Alfred couldn't have turned back and forth in twenty-four hours, and I didn't need another white one here - it would only be a burden.

The bad news was I couldn't pull the big thing off alone, and the rate it was growing (ten meters in the half hour we'd been running here), it would soon be beyond the strength of all of Ingernika's combat mages. The Cleaners arriving on the scene, if they hurry, will be left with only one remedy - a weaponized curse for five to seven sacrifices, which will demolish this nice town and anyone who doesn't get out of it in time. Theoretically, I'd be all that was needed right now, but they didn't teach us that kind of thing at the university.

They didn't teach...

And then I thanked the gods for putting that disgusting creature, Aedan Satal, in my way. He hadn't taught me any death curses, he wasn't suicidal, but he'd taught me enough about high-level shields and barriers. Now I knew what I needed, but again, it was purely theoretical. But when had that ever stopped me? Estimating the speed of Bane's growth, I exhaled a fire weave that cleared a circle about twenty meters in diameter from the bushes, took out a marker from my bag, and started drawing. It would be a perimeter. A repulsive perimeter turned inside out to keep the undead inside.

I didn't have time to measure the sectors, so I had to do it by eye, and as a result, instead of the minimum allowable twelve sings, the result was eleven. Whatever, that's fine! The marker was missing a couple of lines - it wasn't designed for a spell of that size, and I didn't have time to look for a replacement since the line of signs was no more than half a meter from the border of the Bane. Working with simple chalk on such a surface was impossible, and repeating everything on a larger scale was pointless - the perimeter could not be activated. It was a judgment, not for me, but for most of the townspeople for sure - such a crowd of people simply wouldn't be able to get away quickly.

I tossed the empty tube away and howled, high-pitched, beastly.

"Hey! Hey!" Someone poked me in the back.

Lieutenant Clarence, white as chalk, carrying the exact same bag as me and the same marker - the exorcist's traveling kit. God, what's he need it for?

I snatched the white tube from his hands and finished drawing in a feverish rush.

"Isabertana dar-ram!!!"

A wave of Power from the Source, dazed from such treatment, swept across the line of signs, activating a spell like the one Uncle Gordon used to scare the mice, smaller but more expensive. The jagged crown of a three-dimensional perimeter, there are such things, soared up from the ground and struck deep.

That's it. I did what I could. If it didn't work, I'd have to grab Lucic and run for my life. There was a thud behind me as Clarence fainted. Of course, he'd been doused with my Power! I took a closer look - Witch's Bane had stopped growing and even moved back a little from the burning line of signs. Then I hoisted the desperate soldier onto my shoulder and carried him back to the road.

Fox was waiting next to a striped police car, which meant he hadn't alerted the nearby residents. What an asshole! At least he didn't run away.

"What is there?"

"I've locked The Bane down with a reverse perimeter, as long as it holds. Can't do much more than that on my own. We've called the Cleaners. They should be here any minute. Can you drive? Go to the station and wait! Get Clarence to call the cleaners and prepare an evacuation in case of a weapons curse. I'll stay here and keep the perimeter secure.

For a white one, Fox mastered himself very quickly, but he couldn't just obey me.

"Why?" He demanded an explanation.

I took his question about the strange undead. He wanted to know! Whose nature is more stupid?

The area around your town is completely sterile. I mean, as far as black magic is concerned. No disturbances, no complex currents. If an otherworldly phenomenon enters such an environment, it begins to develop explosively. Have you ever heard of Nintark? There! Something like that happened there. When you meet our team, make sure you tell them about it: the Сleaners are dumb and might not realize it.

I don't think he was satisfied with my answer. He wanted to say something else, but he held back, nodded, and finally left. I went back to the Bane to terrorize the Source and pump power into the perimeter. It was going to be a long wait.

The chalk marks were ill-suited for long-lasting witchcraft, and the asymmetrical, unbalanced perimeter oozed Power like a sinkhole. Almost every fifteen minutes, I was forced to renew the spell, that is, to sit nearby and watch. And the beer I'd drunk so inappropriately! It was getting colder and colder. Clarence came to his senses, bringing blankets and sweet compote - the first aid to a mage. I chased him to get the alarm clock - I was wildly afraid of missing the Bane. The moon sailed slowly over the lake and lowered behind the hills, the east lightened, and it smelled like kerosene.

It wasn't that I was tired, no. It was just that I was having a hard time concentrating on the magic and remembering that it was necessary. My thoughts were scattering like mercury balls, and it was clear: if the Cleaners didn't arrive on the morning express, I'd have to get out of there. It would have made more sense to take the express, but I was too late.

When the familiar squeal of the transmission came again, I was trying to figure out what the stupid alarm clock meant. I'd have to ask Clarence... But instead of the lieutenant, some strangers had come out of the bushes, and judging from the fact that their very appearance irritated me, at least one of them was a black mage.

"...!" a hedgehog haircut man in a black and red field uniform expressed his attitude to what he had seen. With a face like that, he could only be a commander. "Petty Officer Claymore," he introduced himself, held out his hand to me, and pulled me to my feet. "Your job?"

Should I tell him no? Maybe he's seen other black mages around here.

"How pathetic!" said a skinny, pointy-nosed man with a goat's squint. I don't know if he needs glasses or he hasn't been punched in the snout in a long time.

"Stop talking!" The foreman shouted, and the pointy-nosed one shut up, and I didn't want to object. "Outsiders out. Where's Rispin fiddling?"

Another younger black one with two huge bags was rushing through the bushes. So they wanted to climb the hill. And they couldn't go through the gate! Maybe there is some hidden purpose in it? I didn't wait for them to kick me out and started to go down the road, especially as it was much easier to do it now - the three of them had left an elephant's path behind them. Clarence picked me up carefully at the bottom and put me in the back seat of his limousine, but he didn't have a second blanket.

"How's it going in there?" Inquired the lieutenant tensely.

I tried to jerk my shoulder. My brains were slowly thawing from the tension, and I didn't feel like talking or thinking.

"Would they be able to handle it?" Clarence worried.

How should I know?

"You'd better turn around right away," I advised him, "you won't get away quickly in reverse."

There are no street lamps in Mihandrov, so the night here is quite Krowhardian - dark and murky, the lake breathes fogs, and a rather chilly breeze comes from the steppe, but the sun rises quickly, and the day begins at once. I dozed peacefully under Clarence's jacket for an hour and a half and was awakened by a lightning strike characteristic of the exorcism curse. It struck so hard that the car bounced. The lieutenant ruthlessly pulled the makeshift blanket off of me - it was light out.

The petty officer and his pointy-nosed assistant, with my staff in his hands, were coming down the slope, grumbling. Their younger colleague, named Rispin, was prudent enough to go through the wicket - an extra hundred yards, but what comfort.

"Twenty years in practice, and I've never seen such a big thing," the pointy-nosed man said, trying to shove me out of the car, but I clung to the seat. Clarence's carriage wasn't big enough for five people, but that wasn't my problem. Let them sit on each other's laps!

"Gorchik, stand down!" the petty officer commanded tiredly and settled down next to the driver.

Rispin moved his colleague with his hip, compacted the backseat to the limit, and squeezed into the space. And so it went. I was fine with it, and I even started to doze again, and only Gorchik squeezed in on both sides and sniffed angrily.

"Give me a ride to the boarding school," I asked Clarence.

"Don't," the lieutenant advised, "I warned Mrs. Hemul yesterday, and she's got everything under control. And the perimeter's up and running. They won't open the gate before eleven."

I asked about the time. It was more than an hour. I had to agree: the sight of a black mage sleeping in the bushes would discredit the image I'd created, and it was beyond me to stay awake for another two hours.

"I expect you at the local station at five o'clock!" the petty officer said goodbye.

"No way," I warned him frankly. I'll sleep, even if he fights.

"All right," he said compassionately, "tomorrow at ten, but make sure you're there!"

And they drove off. I was a little late in starting to resent it. What a boss. Not in my house! What the hell does this guy have to do with me?! But, on common sense, it was necessary to find out about the plans of the long-awaited cleaners, so I had to go. But the attempts to get on my neck, I will severely suppress! If blacks break through to the bosses, they become completely unbearable.

At the boarding house, it turned out that the kind-hearted landlady had let Max out of the bathroom. Either she was a secret necromancer, or she decided that a black mage's dog had a right to be weird. Either way, Madame Parker recognized the preservative as flea repellent, rinsed Max's coat, and brushed it with a special homemade lotion that not only made it shiny but also stopped tangling. With the thought that I had to get the magic recipe, I fell into bed and slept for almost twenty-four hours.

* * *
Mrs. Hemul watched the vice-principal pacing the room, trying not to show her anxiety. Mr. Fox no longer aroused her sympathy but rather frightened her. Why was he so full of complexes and prejudices, and why hadn't she noticed them before? All the oddities and reservations of the past six months had taken on a much more sinister meaning.

"It was the warlock!" Mr. Fox was frantic. "It was the warlock who had caused the trouble."

Back in the days of the Inquisition, it was proved that the appearance of otherworldly phenomena did not depend on the will of black mages, only on the properties of the environment - the arsenal of sorcerers has enough abominations, but the guests from beyond the border are not included in it. But Fox rejected common knowledge, and it was getting harder and harder to get through to his common sense.

"Even so. Would you rather the breakthrough happened in his absence? Ten years of no otherworldly phenomena is too much even for the capital."

"Who told you?" grumbled Mr. Fox annoyingly.

"Lieutenant Clarence stopped by yesterday. We had a chat."

Yes, the need to seal the repellent perimeter was reported to her by a young policeman, pale from the shock of the experience, and not by the elderly head teacher, too busy buying train tickets to take a moment to call. But in the morning, the whole boarding school witnessed an ugly scandal - Fox yelled at her for not opening the gate in front of him. An explanation that you can repeat the activation ritual only after four hours, the head teacher did not accept - he had to leave. Mrs. Hemul wished she had not put Petros outside the gate with his suitcase - then they would have been rid of Fox's presence, which caused problems for everyone, but the head teacher had not informed her about his intention to take his ward either.

"It is necessary to prohibit unauthorized access to the territory!"

"No. I've already had NZAMIPS specialists come in to check the deflection perimeter. After the fence is repaired, some signs need to be updated. I'm also organizing a safety lecture. Do you think Mr. Tangor would be willing to help?"

"This is irresponsible!!!"

"To repair the perimeter?"

"That black asshole..."

"...saved Mihandrov. Is that what you're saying?"

The mention of the young mage had a strange effect on Mr. Fox: he wrinkled, grimaced, and began to shake his head. White ones don't take stress well, but it was more like a nervous fit. How else to explain the fact that rushing to save one child, he completely forgot about the fate of a hundred others?

"No one asked him to do that!"

"Exactly. He showed concern for others, willingly and knowingly. His behavior should be an example to us."

"Are you accusing me of something?!"

"Yes. It's your duty to take care of children. What have you done to fulfill that duty?"

"You are too young a girl. You have a lot to learn. There are times in life when you have to act decisively to save the least. You will lose a lot of things before you get it into your pretty little head!"

Mrs. Hemul chuckled. A healer with a specialization in disaster medicine gets the idea of the inevitable casualties first. Five years of practice, and no one better than her could draw the fine line between the dead and the living, who would also die if they weren't helped. She remembered that ghastly fire at the Palladium Hotel, the railroad disaster near Turik, and hundreds of smaller incidents. Only the birth of twins had forced her to change her profession. But never (never!) did she treat people like meat, even if they had only fifteen minutes to live. Mr. Fox seemed to have listed the entire boarding school as "inevitable victims," which was at least presumptuous.

"Did I miss something? Did someone die?"

He didn't seem to understand the meaning of her words.

Mihandrov needs a black mage. I was right, and you were wrong.

Mr. Fox went on an incomprehensible monologue about the purity of thought and harmony of being. He had not even thought of calling to warn her yesterday; on the contrary, if it had been his will, he would have left without saying anything. Mrs. Hemul was distraught at the sound of his voice, but she listened patiently, occasionally pointing out errors in his reasoning. White was unbearably difficult to insist on unless he was possessed, and she wanted to calm his passions, absolve him of his sins, and send him out, but she'd rather have him making noise here than running around the school scaring the students and staff.

This man had to be gotten rid of quickly and under any pretext. Unfortunately, having learned that the NZAMIPS specialists had eliminated the urgent threat, the vice-principal had abruptly changed his mind about leaving, and now he came to her office with his strange ideas about the inevitable evil. He seemed convinced that it was Mrs. Hemul who must begin to behave differently. Oh, yes! At the principal's desk, there was already a demand (a demand, not a request) for the Board of Trustees to remove the inadequate teacher from the school, and in a few minutes, a courier would take the paper to Artrom. Even better would be to go to the trustees personally, but to leave the boarding school while Fox is here, Mrs. Hemul did not dare - the intuition of a practicing mage literally screamed caution. She was only doing it for the sake of the children, and little Petros wouldn't get the head teacher either, even if Mrs. Kormalis didn't come home at all.

* * *

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