“Listen, what did you tell them about me?”
“That you are the best dark mage in Krauhard!”
Hmm. I hoped nobody would choke at the banquet table. The garden and the guests quickly left behind, but Lyuchik pulled me further: “Now we let the directrix know that you’ve come, and then I’ll show you my room!”
Okay, the guests would have time to recover and decide where to run. Well, did I really care about their heart attacks?
Nevertheless, some incidents did happen. We had been searching for the elusive headmistress for a quarter of an hour already (I suspected that she ran after us, but was one turn behind), when a gray-haired, middle-aged white appeared from the depths of the park. The magician wore a slightly old-fashioned frock coat with a handkerchief in the upper pocket. He plodded, deep in thought, without looking around and, obviously, not in the direction of the Christmas party.
Lyuchik’s behavior changed dramatically: he stopped jumping, ceremoniously took my hand, and muttered in a low voice, “This is our assistant principal, Mr. Fox.”
Well, I could understand his timidity before superiors; even I, a fearless dark magician, committed the same sin, for example, in relation to Satal…
We, as cultured people, approached the gray-haired gentleman and politely greeted him.
“Sir,” Lyuchik showed his best manners, “this is my brother, Thomas. I told you about him. He came to celebrate Christmas with us.”
Mr. Fox allowed himself to notice us. His reaction was strange: when he looked at me, his eyes widened, and his face became contorted by a grimace of almost mystical horror—as if he met a speaking ghoul. Though it lasted only for a moment and was hidden by his curly white beard, I did notice his impression of me. The elderly man looked worse than deceased in coffin.
I even started feeling ashamed.
“Nice to meet you!” I held out my hand, but the teacher looked at it as if it were a live cobra.
Well, that was the first strikeout. I thought that the main problem would be the kids!
But as soon as I started to speak, Mr. Fox came to senses and, with some effort, pulled himself together. In short, he finally shook my outstretched hand.
“Thomas… uh?” he smiled questioningly.
“Tangor! Thomas Tangor,” I tried not to shake his hand too vigorously.
“Luciano…?”
“We have the same mother but different fathers.”
“I see…”
Mr. Fox’s face slowly regained color.
“I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I’m flattered!”
“Have you ever been to Mihandrov before?”
“Alas, no.”
“How do you like our town?”
“It’s pleasantly sweet.”
He stared at me as though he suspected a dirty joke. What did I have to say? “Not a bad village, but not enough brothels?” Wisely deciding to ignore my responses, Mr. Fox finally drew himself up a bit and even assumed a dignified air.
“I suppose you won’t stay for the banquet,” he said in a secular tone.
“What is your problem, a shortage of food?” I asked to clarify.
“Food has nothing to do…”
Ah! He must have seen a lot of drunken dark magicians.
“Do not worry; I’m not inclined to abuse alcohol!”
At least not in his company.
“We will not serve alcohol,” he said with some glee.
“Even better.” I always wanted to know how the white were having fun. “I can tell a few anecdotes.”
“Please don’t,” Mr. Fox was very serious.
“Okay, I won’t,” I said agreeably.
At that moment Lyuchik found a chance to intervene. “Thomas will stay for the party,” he said with some pressure. “I talked about him with Mrs. Hemul, and she didn’t mind.”
“She simply did not believe your brother would come,” Fox smiled indulgently.
He was an atypically nasty white. What else would he say in front of the child?
“Do you possess telepathic abilities?” I asked with awe in my voice, trying to catch his eye (that used to be very unnerving to the white). “Are you so intimate with Mrs. Hemul?”
“Who spreads dirty rumors about me?” a melodious female voice cheerfully sang behind us. The local headmistress was young, pretty, and a white mage at that, as her daisy brooch of rock crystal clearly indicated; the brooch seemed to be a symbol of one of the schools of healers. Judging by her tense look, she was already informed about my visit and came to rescue the situation.
“You see, Mrs. Hemul, Luciano’s half-brother came here for the holidays,” Fox said pointedly.
Why was he talking about me as if I was absent? I firmly took the initiative, moved him aside with my shoulder, and smiled most charmingly: “Thomas Tangor, at your service! Unfortunately, I haven’t been introduced to you. Lyuchik was telling me so much about the school that I could not resist the temptation to view it. I hope I did not cause any problems?”
“Not at all,” she weakly protested, and I grabbed her hand and kissed it.
Mr. Fox almost winced. An old lecher!
“I will go and make arrangements for another seat,” Mrs. Hemul flew off, flushing from embarrassment.
“Are you staying for just one day?” Lyuchik asked cautiously.
“Why?” I was surprised. “I will stay with you for the entire two weeks. You live in a gorgeous climate. I just got off the train; tomorrow I will bring gifts. If you do not like some, you’ll give them to your friends.”
Fox snorted indignantly. What did I say wrong?
We toured the school property, accompanied by the watchful assistant principal: we walked through the garden and greenhouse, looked at the pond and the brook (why did they need that parody of the swamp, when a real lake was a stone’s throw away?), visited ponies in the school’s stables, and sat in Lyuchik’s room. I wished I lived like that… To be honest, that place was worth the money I paid.
The alcohol-free banquet promised by the assistant principal began exactly at a quarter past seven.
Naturally, they didn’t put kids next to me (except Lyuchik), but that was even better: adults had longer hands when you wanted something to be passed over the table. I methodically tried every unfamiliar dish, placing on my brother’s plate the most delicious (in my opinion) pieces. Among the treats, meat was clearly underrepresented but, thinking what could happen if the white kids saw a whole roasted piglet, it was certainly better to stay away from the meat.
Lyuchik didn’t care about the food; he hastened to narrate the events of the past four months in great detail. I nodded as usual and wondered how he managed to remember not only what and where he saw things, but also what he thought about them at that moment. I wish I could dump on someone my own experiences, curse my teacher obscenely, grumble about the blatant monster (Rustle was inaudible today for some reason), and complain about my ruined youth. However, it would be induced psychosis, the dark do not behave like that, and excessive talkativeness for a combat mage is generally considered pathology. Preoccupied with those thoughts, I ate twice as much as usual and almost fell asleep.
There were no interesting neighbors at the table. A couple across from me discussed with their child the style of her summer dress (“white lace?” followed by “lace, lace!”), and it was all about the lace for ten minutes in a row. Edan Satal did not seem so vile at all, in comparison. Before I wondered who wrote strange books about talking rabbits, in which all the characters expressed themselves as if they had no brains, but hydraulic brakes instead. Good that alcohol was not served—from the first glass I would have lost control over my tongue, and the sweet children would have learned a lot about human physiology and student life.
Should I flee maybe? I mean finish the trip earlier. I would not stand two weeks in such an environment. But as soon as I recalled that Redstone was now cold, nasty, and snowy, and Quarters had become gay?… the company of the white didn’t se
em so bad.
After an unbearably long two hours at the banquet table, the guests were offered a break to warm up and dance. I was as good at dancing as a wild boar in ballet; besides, I ate too much. While pupils and their parents volunteered for an amateur orchestra, I managed to drag my chair to the opposite corner of the dancing hall and settle there in comfort.
I quickly gathered an audience around myself. Such attention did not bother me: the white were like sparrows; the worst they could do would be taking a dump on my head.
“Is it true?” the bravest kid had the courage to ask.
“What exactly?” I asked good-naturedly.
“That you are a dark magician,” he blurted out, looking as if he demanded that I confess to cannibalism.
I experienced a rare attack of good manners: “You needed to say a ‘combat mage’,” I gently reproached the kid. “Yes, I am a combat mage.”
Then came tense silence—I was closely examined to see if I had any unusual parts of the body. I wondered whether those guys had seen even one dark in their life?
“They believe,” Lyuchik remarked caustically, “that a dark mage should be in a sorcerer’s hat with a pikestaff in his hand.”
I rolled my eyes. People, stop it!
“The staff is good only as a bludgeon, and the hat went out of fashion two hundred years ago.”
“Have you seen a monster?” a little girl looking like an angel (big blue eyes, pink cheeks, and two large white bows on thin braids) got courage to ask.
“You mean a supernatural creature? Of course, I have seen them. A lot!”
“No way!” a skinny bespectacled kid objected fiercely, squeezing a teddy bear in his hands.
“It is true!” I recalled Captain Baer’s warning not to show my NZAMIPS card to civilians and showed it to the children. “NZAMIPS. Making the world better is our job! Nothing to worry, kids, Uncle Thomas will not let them hurt you.”
The kids took over the card and began to twirl it, looking admiringly at the iridescent rainbow logo and delicate ornamentation around the enchanted seal. Carefully concealing malevolence, I watched as Mr. Fox on the opposite side of the room tried to convince Mrs. Hemul of something, angrily glancing at me. I was never good at lip-reading, but no skill was required in this case—the young headmistress believed that communication with the benevolent-minded dark mage would benefit their children.
“Like the little ones,” Lyuchik muttered in my ear, and I heartily agreed with him.
All local pupils looked a lot younger than their age. Even my sister Emmy, who had not yet grown out of the childish defects of diction, seemed, by comparison, a model of prudence and common sense. That’s what happens when the white lack breadth of communication! I was determined to help remedy the situation, as much as possible, for the entire two weeks of my stay.
* * *
“You are putting the lives of children at risk!”
“You are spouting nonsense,” it wasn’t easy to make a white mage angry, but Mrs. Hemul’s patience was seriously depleted, “Luciano grew up with his dark brother by his side, and the kid has got no health problems.”
“Our children are not ready to meet this sort of people!”
“And that is really bad, Mr. Fox. We must seize this great opportunity! The young man is very well-mannered and well-educated. Acquaintance with him will provide our children with a positive experience.
“Your predecessor had different views on this, Mrs. Hemul.”
“My predecessor quit over a year ago, Mr. Fox, and you know why. We agreed that teaching methods should be changed. You’ve supported the actions of the Board of Trustees. Have you changed your position since then?”
“Take note of my words: this situation will end very badly!”
“It depends on us. I do not understand your position! If you cannot keep your pupils in sight, please say so outright. Ms. Ryman had enough courage to admit her shortcomings. We can apply to the Council for an increase in staff…”
As the door had closed behind the assistant principal, Mrs. Hemul shook her head. For a white, using power isn’t a simple task, but ordinary people as candidates for the position of director were not even discussed by the trustees. Honestly, she did it solely for the sake of children. It was difficult to admit, but they should not live a life sheltered from the rest of the world, and the empaths were completely on her side in that regard.
Chapter 28
Next morning I got up with the first rays of the sun, which was unusual for me on holidays. Kids were sent to bed at exactly 11 p.m. yesterday (it was cruel, in my opinion), and I did not have time to find a place in Mihandrov where a lonely dark magician could have fun. Mrs. Parker, still sleepy, served coffee on the open veranda; Max lay at my feet and successfully imitated a bored dog. It was surprisingly quiet around, as if we were not in town. I could sit forever here in a squeaky rocking chair with a blanket on my shoulders and a cup of coffee in hand. Of course, such happiness could not last for long.
A car of characteristic striped colors with a squealing transmission drove up to my B&B. Why is it like that—an alchemist in a public employ is always a hack. I watched sadly as the driver and the hostess exchanged bows; for some reason I was sure that he didn’t come for her. Indeed, receiving instructions, the newly arrived went to the veranda.
Max stretched and yawned widely; I hoped that the man did not manage to see its mouth in close-up.
“Good morning!” the driver lifted his hat.
“Same to you,” I tried to portray a polite smile. Had they received a complaint from the boarding school on me, or were the local services displaying vigilance?
“We express our deepest apology for yesterday. We intended to meet you, but an unfortunate misunderstanding happened! We are very sorry.”
To meet me? Oh yes, yesterday at the station some clowns jumped around the baggage car, but since I had taken Max inside the sleeper, I didn’t check in my suitcase.
That meant someone from Redstone had called here. Wow, what alertness! NZAMIPS in action.
“No problem,” I shrugged.
He visibly relaxed.
“Mr. Clarence is asking when you can meet him.”
I pondered it for a while. Two hours remained until Mihandrov’s boarding school would open for visitors, and I had absolutely nothing to do.
“Now, let’s go now; give me a second to take the documents!”
He started smiling, and I went to my room to lock up the zombie and pick up the travel papers. Maybe I could persuade the authorities to stamp the documents with both arrival and departure dates at once - it could save me time. I was pleased that Mihandrov’s NZAMIPS was open on holidays at 9 a.m. They really worked hard! By the way, what were they busy with?
For the next half-hour, the driver intently steered the wheel along the narrow streets, cobbled at the time of the Inquisition, while I frowned and tried not to listen to the toil of the badly adjusted engine. I ought to check the car, purely out of compassion—they were just killing it.
The police office in Mihandrov nested in a nice one-story building, sandwiched between a hotel and a bakery. To the left of the entrance door, three doorplates hung, one above the other: the Criminal Police of the Town of Mihandrov, Mihandrov’s Division of NZAMIPS and, for some strange reason, Mihandrov’s Animal Cruelty Prevention. I had wondered how they all could fit there, but when I opened the door, everything fell into place: Lieutenant Rudolph Clarence (according to the plate) sat in a tiny office with one desk, being the sole head of everything, and he was an initiated white mage. Oh my God! What genius decided to put a white mage in charge of NZAMIPS?! It would be curious to learn who worked as “cleaners” here…
I closed eyes and started counting to ten, no, better to twenty. I had a feeling that my bosses had managed to find me a job for all of the holidays.
“So,” I said calmly after a minute, “what kind of problems do we have?”
There were issues in this place—it wa
s quite obvious.
“Eh,” a disoriented lieutenant tried to recall what he was going to start with, and then brightened, “Rudolph Clarence!”
“Thomas Tangor.”
We shook hands. I struggled with a feeling similar to delirium (the white have captured the world; they are everywhere!).
“You cannot imagine how eagerly we have been looking forward to your arrival! We’ve been waiting for you, waiting for quite a while; I went three times to the head office and personally filed requests, but Senior Coordinator Axel does not tolerate…”
I bravely stifled a groan: “Let us first discuss business!”
He readily nodded and stared at me. There was a pause.
“So what exactly has happened?” I could not refrain.
“Wasn’t it explained to you?”
“Let’s pretend that I want to learn everything from the source.”
“It is wise,” he agreed, fidgeted in his chair, and began, “it all started a year ago, after the scandal. NZAMIPS investigated the suicide of a graduate of Mihandrov’s boarding school, and in the course of the examination it became clear that twelve former students committed suicide over the past eight years. Every one of them was a white mage.”
The lieutenant’s voice broke with emotion; my eyebrows went up. The suicide of a white is an extremely rare event. Well, to ruin themselves by drinking, to lose mind was typical of them, but laying hands on yourself had almost never happened before.
“What a nightmare!” Lieutenant Clarence seemed to wince in pain even thinking about those cases. “The former director resigned, a special commission worked on it, but that’s not the end of the story. I participated in the investigation and pointed out that another four children went missing. Of course, those students were rather unsociable, without close relatives and friends, but the white are not inclined to go nowhere! Then I compared these facts with my own experience. You see, Mihandrov is not that small: all the residents know each other, but they are not so close as to watch everyone all the time. So, according to my observation, at least five white mages who lived alone had moved out somewhere for no apparent reason. To their relatives that do not exist, to a town which name no one knows, just on business, and no one ever heard back from them. Two of them left personal items in the apartments, and homeowners still keep their stuff in the event of the owners’ return. Of course, it is my speculation, but all of this seems weird! I applied to the head office with a request to open an investigation, possibly for the presence of supernatural phenomena. Out of my three reports, they responded to one only; I was ordered to wait.”
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