by Vitaly Zykov
Well, time is short! He better start doing what he meant! And the beast soared over the wall to the small window like an arrow and ran towards the small square of Three founders, well-known in the city as the square of Three moneybags. It was a rich district. Here lived all those who could pay fifty gold coins to a songstress in a restaurant for rich men, because she «sang well» and order to flog a beggar to death for asking a couple of copper coins for bread. Here lived the rich men who were proud of their heavy purses, considering themselves entitled to despise everyone whose wealth was smaller. Yarik learned about one of them during one of his walks into the city, when he was sent on some errands into the Inner city – the rich district. Yarik chuckled, remembering how he was stopped in a rude form by the guards who were going to send him away. The situation was saved only by the note signed by the innkeeper, in which was written that «this slave was really sent into the Inner city on an errand, namely, to the pharmacist Aurelius for purchases». Yarik knew the essence of the note since the innkeeper pronounced the phrases aloud when he was writing the note.
It turned out that the guards knew the innkeeper and let the slave in, this fact unspeakably surprised Yarik. Their tavern was not rich, it was rather the opposite. That was the reason why Darg had settled in it. But Yarik shrugged and decided that everyone has a right for confidentiality. It was not his business! On receiving the note the apothecary was not surprised and immediately went to the door behind the counter, but at that point the bell rang and a dapper man with an elegant cane in his hand came inside the shop. Yarik immediately bent in a bow and stepped aside. The newcomer glanced at Yarik, his look stopped on the collar, he looked squinting into the face of the slave as if storing it in his memory, and turned to the apothecary. Yarik did not even remember what exactly this rich man required. Maybe some herbs of an unfamiliar name or maybe something else. The look of the young slave followed the writhing of the black embroidery which covered the elegant dark-green jacket of the newcomer. The pattern of the embroidery was painfully familiar, even shockingly familiar. The signs of the magical alphabet were intertwined there, the alphabet that, unimaginably long ago, Yarik had learned under the guidance of his hissing mentor. And it was not a casual turn of fantasy of an unknown master. All the signs seemed to be in proper and absolutely appropriate places. There was no error or inconsistency in their images, moreover, a weak magical aura was hovering over the jacket.
– Yes, master Zaur. Of course! The next time everything will be ready – the apothecary began to bow, the noble man nodded stately, and giving Yarik an interested gaze came out of the shop.
Thus Yarik learned the name of this man. Yarik took the desired parcel and returned to the inn, he thought for a long time and came to a conclusion that this Zaur most likely independently studied the magical arts, the basis of which Yarik got in the depths of Zaarr'h'dorr. Yarik felt an urge to find out everything about this person.
Then were the hours of careful questioning during execution of next errands and even more careful search. Up to this time Yarik knew that full name of master Zaur was Zaur Garrakh from the family of Gray Roareres, a small noble family with a reputation which had unpleasant smell of forbidden magic. He lived here for ten years and owned an office engaged in buying and selling artifacts left from the Ancients. Commissions of magicians from the United Protectorate conducted a few inspections and found nothing, but public opinion was still inclined to believe that master Zaur was on close terms with forbidden magic. And many people mentioned bad temper and vindictiveness of this worthy man.
All that Yarik learned from talking with beggars and slaves who scurried around the city on their own business or performing someone else's errands. In order to facilitate acquaintances Yarik even had to beg for a jug with home brew from the inn cook a couple of times, hinting on his need to relax, pretending to be an unhappy man crushed with overwork. And now, Yarik in kaifat's body rushed rapidly to the house of master Zaur. He could not miss a chance to spy on the other's secrets, which could bring his freedom nearer!
The house of this rich man looked quite presentable, inspiring esteem and respect. White stone was not a rare thing to be used for building here, but only by very rich people. The windows of the house had graceful grates, and each of them was a work of art itself. Above the door was a small cornice supported by two statues. They were carved with rare craft and depicted some strange eared creatures with slim, graceful bodies, almond-shaped eyes and thick manes of hair.
Yarik shook his head and began to climb onto the roof. As if especially for him, there were drain gutters on the sides of the house. Some feeling suggested Yarik that some traps and alarms surely should be there. Perhaps the subtle scent of magic, hovering around the house, and particularly strong near the gutters hinted him about the alarms.
«Let's hope that it does not react to a beast!» – Decided Yarik and began to cautiously climb up, carefully surveying the spots he was going to step on.
His caution was not excessive. He barely felt a faint magical aura in some places. Yarik mentally measured them and realized that enchanted places were those ideal as a support for a man climbing onto the roof. But Yarik was not a man now! So he could easily circumvent these obstacles.
Now he was on the roof. It was quite steep and in some places had aura heavily filled with Force. And there were some traps again! Yarik carefully bypassed those places and came up to the small tower which stood in the middle of the roof. Stretching his neck, he tried to sniff the windowsill of the narrow window, which was cut in the turret. As Yarik suspected it was oozing with dangerous magic. Claws of Jurga! Yarik had no choice but to try to climb over the wall at the level of the window.
It was a hard work! There were few places where he could sink his claws, it was stone not wood! But Yarik managed. He plunged his claws into the finest cracks between stones, carefully making his way to the latticed window. The cells of the lattice were obscenely narrow – no single thief, even the most artful one, would not have a chance even to push his hand through. But Yarik could do that, the only problem was the window. At this point Yarik mentally cried – someone could be in the room when he stuck his head in and looked inside! Although there was no light in the room, so he probably did not have to worry, but it was better to be safe all the same.
Yarik peered inside, it was good that night vision of the beast was simply magnificent. There was a table near the far wall, something like a cabinet and some shelves, dark mass of a carpet was spread on the floor, in the far corner was something resembling a hatch. Yarik sniffed with sensitive nose of the beast trying to feel all the smells that were inside the room, afraid to miss their slightest nuances. There was no smell of a man, but other flavors were spilling out of the room like clouds of smoke. Yarik wrinkled his nose and sneezed. It was clear that some chemical or rather alchemical experiments had been performed here. Now it was time to explore the window! Judging by the strength of the smells, it was not closed. And a really impressive lock inside the window was open. Furthermore, there was a narrow gap, through which fresh air was coming into the room. Judging by a narrow pipe near the furnace there was a ventilation hood, but the owner of the room, apparently, found it insufficient.
Yarik cautiously poked his head through the lattice cell and hesitantly pushed the window sash. It opened with quiet creaking, and Yarik's body more flexible than that of a snake slipped into the room.
Small feet of the beast drowned in the thick pile of the carpet. The mass of the desk loomed nearby. It was very interesting to look into the desk drawers, but he could only dream about that – the animal's paws were not intended for opening of a locked drawer. Yarik shrank like a spring and jumped onto the table. His claws clicked quietly on the smooth table top. The beast stopped. Silence. Then he carefully moved his legs and touched something. Yarik looked down and saw a strange rectangular plate which lay directly in front of the chair, which was set slightly aside from this work place of the magician. Now the plate was turn
ed at a slight angle. The plate was so weightless that even a slight movement of his paw slipped it aside. Although, it looked like it was made of some stone.
Yarik ran around, straining his eyes and trying to see what was depicted on the plate. Finally he found a comfortable and as it seemed to him a right place, carefully sat down and began to consider the image. It was really strange. There was a whimsical ornament built of four circles one inside the other, composed of already known to Yarik characters of the magical alphabet. The only thing that alarmed him was the intricate bends of the characters that were imprinted in his memory forever. Here they were slightly different, as if not entirely correct. Yarik hit the surface of the table with his right paw in irritation – time was running, while he was dreaming! It was necessary to get down to business. Yarik was extremely interested in the plate and decided to store it in his memory, to ponder over it later in the future. Yarik broke the image into several blocks (storing the whole magic image might turn to be dangerous!) and, one after another, began to save all the twists and tiny curls depicted on the plate in his memory. Although his memory was just perfect now, but to memorize something it was still necessary to isolate that something from the mass of extraneous information.
The moments were flowing while Yarik frozen like a statue was soaking the image like a sponge soaks water. Finally, the last curl was laid carefully in his memory. If Yarik was in his human body, he would have certainly wiped the sweat at this moment. How hard it was, Cali curse you all! Yarik glanced out of the window – the darkness gradually began to recede, the dawn was already near. He had to hurry.
Glancing across the table, Yarik noticed nothing interesting, except the small book which lay near the table edge. Yarik carefully picked up the thin sheet with his paw and opened the first page, there he saw neat rows of handwritten letters. Apparently, it was a diary or something like a researcher's journal. But there was a problem – Yarik could not read! With an indignant snort Yarik picked up the sheets again and closed the book. It clapped softly. Paying no attention to the sound, Yarik glanced at the shelves. There was a lot to look at. A strange four-eyed skull was standing side by side with a box set upright, in which someone tried to collect the fragments of a broken plate, similar to the one Yarik had just carefully examined. However, it turned out badly. There was no meaningful image. The stone fragments did not even smell with magic like the plate on the table. On the shelf below was a little statuette of an ugly creature. It was carved with a rare elegance and as if lit from within. It was work of not just a cutter, but a magician – the statuette had a strong magical aura with a pleasant greenish tinge. The thick volumes standing nearby emanated antiquity and wisdom of ages. The dust of centuries had left its seal on these books and the wisdom of the Ancients was waiting for a seeker to get its fruits.
«A lop-eared poet!» – Yarik said skeptically to himself and moved his glance to the lowest shelf.
There was lying a piece of strange green stone with a bluish tint. It strongly resembled a chip of the club with which hospitable Tarks had met him long ago – if you mentally imagine the missing part, you will get just a huge stone club. But this chip was covered with intricately carved magical signs. Most of them were damaged, but one remained completely intact. It was built from interweaving or even fusion of the three Signs known to Yarik, creating a completely new and much more complex one. Yarik stored it in his memory.
It became much lighter in the street. He had to get out soon. Yarik finally looked at the contents of the room – at the stacks of old books, the closed drawers, a rack with a variety of swords in the corner, previously unnoticed, various flasks and units at the top of the cabinet – he had no time to inspect all that, and once again he shrunk like a spring and jumped off the table into the window, trying not to touch the windowsill. Grasping the bar Yarik tried to shut the window. But he managed that pretty badly. The animal's paws were not adapted for such actions. Then another jump and keeping wariness Yarik ran across the roof to the gutter by which he easily got down to the pavement. Here he sprinted hard, like a weightless shadow gliding in the ditch. Yarik had to run a couple of blocks, when he felt a tenacious and slightly surprised look upon him. Trying to keep naturalness of animal movements, Yarik slightly slowed down and looked in the direction from which he felt someone's keen interest. There was a lone rider on a tirr. His whole appearance was as if gray and nondescript. His face was unremarkable, there were dozens men like him in any city. The only thing that distinguished him from others was a strange crescent-shaped weapon with black hilt and very attentive eyes looking at Yarik warily. Restrained apprehension with clearly visible interest was glowing in the eyes of this man, and it was alarming. This rider seemed to know what kind of creature was running along the morning streets of the great city Glort, and this fact surprised him greatly.
Yarik decided that it was no sense to stay here anyway, and sprinted toward the inn. But some animal instinct forced him to make a couple extra circles and run around several blocks, doubling his tracks. When the panting beast flew into the shed, it was already half-past five. He jumped onto the chest of the still motionless human body and Yarik's mind left the body of the beast. The animal's body jerked and Rual frantically shook his head, snorting and sneezing, when the human body arched and a low moan came through his clenched teeth. Yarik opened his eyes and cursed, he felt as if hundreds of needles were pierced into his body, all his limbs were stiffened. Apparently, the long absence out off his body had some unpleasant consequences. The absence for several days was even likely to lead to death.
Waving his hands, to speed up his blood, Yarik did a couple of squats and began to dress. It seemed that he would get a good thrashing today for being late.
– Oleg dropped his hands and sat down on the ground. His palms were visibly trembling, hailstones of cold sweat were running down his forehead.
– Well, you see, today you've done it! – Irung was very pleased. – The work with simplest exertions of the Force is very important. To understand the theory, you need to stick to the very heart of the Force, to feel its origins, to understand its character. The problem of most magicians is that they are storming the heights when they have not experienced the fundamentals yet.
Oleg just nodded, though his heart was just singing. Of course, after weeks of exhausting exercises with the Force when his young teacher had ordered him to move objects, to build the Force barriers and to use them as a battering ram, he had finally been able to break the internal barrier which every beginner magician has, and to take a deep breath of «pleasing flavor of magic». As Irung described this feeling. At first everything was going as usual: the exhausted mind, a pain somewhere behind the breastbone, an emerging cough, and suddenly, like a flash of light, he got an enlightenment. Without straining as if in a dream and even with some laziness Oleg pulled his hand and an invisible power hammer chopped an enormous boulder into pieces, while last week he would have had to focus for thirty minutes, mentally repeating the concentration mantra over and over.
– Today you've made the most important step! Later, there will be more difficulties as well, but they are surmountable… – It seemed that Irung liked the role of a teacher and mentor, and he could talk and talk incessantly.
– But why they did not teach us the same at the Academy?! – Asked Oleg.
– Ah! – Waved Irung. – It does not work with every pupil. Only those who have a potential of a True magician and colossal Gift, working under constant supervision of a teacher could achieve this breakthrough. Without me, you could unconsciously be able to achieve the same only after a year. So appreciate it! The Academy cannot deal with a pupil individually. There they adjust to average students and train en masse.
Oleg nodded thoughtfully, but then again, the feeling arching him supplanted other thoughts. He did it! He wanted to dance tumbling and firing fountains of energy in all directions. Irung mockingly watched him.
– If you're interested, I got all that myself i
n the first year of study. – The young magician paused, but then his face lit up with an incisive smile, and he continued – during the whole first semester one very arrogant aristocrat snubbed me, he believed that if his father is a True magician, like his grandfather and great-grandfather, he could dictate his terms to everybody!
– As I understand it, this breakthrough of yours came as a surprise to him? – Oleg wandered.
– Of course. It was a surprise for me too. Before that I was not a remarkable pupil. – Irung laughed heartily. – It was a good fight. Our tutor then sentenced both of us to whole eight weeks of hard labor in the garden.
– Well, had he got much? – Oleg did not ask, but state.
Irung waved his hand:
– Almost nothing. He punched me heavily then. All this matters: noble origin, family, family secrets and learning magic since childhood… This bastard has now settled well too. He serves as an assistant of ambassador somewhere.
Oleg shook his head sympathetically, noting to himself that Irung does not keep any relationship with that magician.
– Well, let's end this sentimental rubbish and talk about business. How long have we practiced with you?.. Four weeks?.. Very little time left before the term begins… So, tomorrow, you'll go to the deanery and begin to bother about your transfer to the individual form of education. Bring me the papers, I'll sign them. If you finish in five days, on the ninth day you can pass external examinations on the basics of manipulating with energies. This is the main subject of the second year. Ancient languages you will pass in the second semester – Irung was thinking aloud.
