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10

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Holt suburb, Tarma Thoris' daneke mansion,

second third of the evening watch

A-a-a-apchi!

Something fluffy got into my nose and insolently interrupted my afternoon nap. I opened my eyes, but the situation did not clear up. Mainly because the room was dark. So late already? How much do I sleep? However, if you take into account the hour and a half spent on cutting and boiling the fish (combined with futile attempts to drive the cat away from the cutting board and stove), and the hour during which I had to rummage through the pantry and build from the supplies there (the remaining ones, judging by the dull appearance , since winter) a usable lunch, not so much was spent on sleep. Most importantly, it is not clear whether you managed to sleep or not. Well, that fact will only be established empirically when I leave the bed.

What is it that tickles my nose?

I touch with my fingers. Soft, but not like wool. Warm. Even hot. And… wet. The smell is strange: viscous, thick. And, worst of all, lifeless. When I fell asleep, there was nothing like that around. We must see.

I sit on the bed and command:

- Light!

With a delay of about a quarter of a breath, the wick of an oil lamp standing on the table flashes. A handy thing is magic, isn't it? Of course, one imposed fire spell is not enough: one must also master the necessary tone of voice and volume, and have more or less ability to control the elements, but if these conditions are met, life becomes much easier.

I look at the pillow...

Hhag!

A limp bird's body. Gray feathers sprinkled with cherry juice. That is, not juice, of course, but blood ... Well, bastard! Completely out of hand!

I take a closer look. A narrow rim of light gray feathers on a rolled neck. That dove! Is Mikis...

Insolent yellow eyes squint at me contentedly from the corner of the room.

- Did you do that?

The cat cannot answer, and do I need an answer?

- Decided, then, to repay for feeding?

The squint becomes even more pleased.

“Could you have left the corpse in the kitchen?” Or, even better, at the front door?

If a cat could shrug his shoulders, he would certainly do it. At least, in his eyes it was clearly read: “And then how would you know about my gift? And in general, I, one might say, did you an honor, but you are dissatisfied. Not good".

“I’m happy, I’m happy,” I nod wearily. “But next time, let’s do without bed offerings, okay?”

Mikis begins to melancholy lick his paw, indicating that the conversation is over.

Linen will have to be changed. True, after twelve shifts in a row, I don’t care deeply about its cleanliness, but the rest of the time it’s nice to soak up the freshly laundered sheets. Okay, I'll take it to the laundress, maybe she'll wash it.

With two fingers by the wing, I lift the carcass, which in life has plagued me with its “shelling” for several months. Did you fly, dove? Did you jump? It’s a pity that I didn’t fall by my hand, but the goal achieved allows me not to regret too bitterly about the money spent.

Where can I find the dead man? Burn the corpse and scatter the ashes over the sea, as is customary in Antrey? No! I do not feel the slightest desire to celebrate a feast in honor of the shameless bird, which even in the afterlife caused me inconvenience.

Wait! A dead bird in the house is a bad sign. I don't remember what exactly, but it doesn't matter. You helped me, Mikis, oh, you made me happy! Let's hope that the old omen will not work and the day that started badly will not end just as bad ...

There is scratching from the side of the table. Persistent. Like an invisible mouse sharpening its claws on polished wood. But not this… Well, please, Mother of God! I promise - I will be your most ardent admirer, I will pray day and night for the inviolability of your light power, I will ...

A soft whistle was added to the scratching.

I won't be a fan. I asked, but you ... Oh, gods, gods, what can I take from you?

I get up and go to the table, on which a very interesting action for an uninitiated person takes place.

A translucent blue quartz crystal set in steel trembles and whistles. Of course, he does this not personally, but under the influence of certain spells cast on the stone by magicians from the department of my friend Viger. A combination of "air" and "earth" structures that allows you to communicate at a distance without excessive use of your own and borrowed strength - most recently this toy has become fashionable among officers of the City Watch. Since it willingly helps to come to an agreement and slip away from the watchful eye of the authorities to the nearest tavern, for example. How? It's very simple, if you think about it.

The set consists of a ring and an earring. Both of them contain quartz crystals (or something more expensive), but they perform completely different functions. The ring transmits the message, and the earring receives. The crystals contain spells that allow you to turn information intended for transmission into something that can reach a given place without losing its meaning and perform the reverse transformation - translate air currents into words that any person will understand [10] . Of course, if he is not deaf or slow-witted.

The ring stone is usually applied to the neck on the right or left under the chin, and the earring, of course, is attached to the earlobe. The main beauty of this whole thing is that no one except the owner will hear what exactly the crystal whispers in his ear. The ring is more difficult, but some manage to get the hang of controlling it with little or no voice. I... I don't have a ring. Dismissed for bad behavior.

Well, yes, when such a beautiful and useful toy fell into my hands, I went all out. That is to say, he pestered with “calls” everyone to whom my headset was tuned. At the same time, he quickly adapted from a limited set of code words to create such obscene messages that he drove the unfortunate victims of his mischief not only into the paint, but also into a stupor. The case ended with me being severely reprimanded and deprived of the right to use the second half of the headset, leaving only the earring. However, I'm lying: not an earring. It is strictly forbidden for me to pierce my ears, and therefore the crystal has to be fixed with a clamp. It is very inconvenient, by the way: after three hours of wearing, the ear swells and becomes numb, which seriously complicates the possibility of communication both personal and at a distance. Therefore, I do not like to use this method of communication. But I must. Uffff…

Crystal, sensing my approach, tried to close the distance between us, slightly jumping up and moving around the table in this way. For about a minute I amused myself by bringing my fingers to it from different sides, forcing me to change the direction of the clumsy movement, then I sighed and attached the earring to the required place.

The trembling of the crystal immediately turned into words echoing in my head:

“Alden… Fly… Orphanage… Personally…”

Well, let's decode it.

Alden is Alden, and no one else.

"Fly" - "urgently, quickly, hastily." Fly, in general.

Shelter is my family business.

“Personally” means it has nothing to do with royal service. Already good. Although my personal affairs tend to bring a lot of trouble. To whom? Me, of course!

I wonder what happened if Ollie disturbed my peace at an inopportune time?

However, guessing is pointless: you have to go to the place.

I pulled on my boots and put on my jacket. Is it worth taking a weapon? Hardly: my wards usually do not rage. What about Ollie? Handle if need arises. Well, yes, I'm lazy, not in moderation. But this time I have an excuse: it is very, very unpleasant to pass through the Blood Portal [11] with an extra load.

I go to the mirror. Yes, the one that started my meaningful day. Slightly cloudy glass, more than half my height, framed by a massive metal frame. Frame of "moon silver", by the way. Cryed out by the younger sister-moon. It seems that the idea of ​​the master who created this masterpiece was to depict a vine, but it turned out to be a shaggy wreath, unevenly adjacent to the mirror surface. The building is ugly and clumsy. It's good that I'm the only one who has to watch it. Especially in action.

I run my hand over the cold metal of the frame. Where are my favorite dimples? Ah, here they are! I alternately immerse my fingertips in the barely noticeable recesses of the forged pattern, accompanying my actions with the words obligatory for calling the Portal:

“Shaking itself like a cat, high and far away, the night splashed steamy milk beyond the window of the stars…

Like the verse? I know not. I wrote this myself. I'm a poet, and a very famous one. Don't believe? In vain: my early creations can be read on the walls in most of the latrines of Antreya. Only for the most part, these verses are rude and obscene and are not suitable for reading in a decent society ... And since when setting up a vehicle in space, I needed not only my blood, but also a set of words known only to me and no one else, I had to urgently compose this nonsense. Why is it urgent? And I, as usual, was late, and the Master of Transitions did not want to wait a single extra minute ...

The surface of the glass rippled.

- Anywhere? murmured a nasty old voice.

They say that the Portal Manager was made from a magician who once mortally bothered the entire Enclave at once. I don’t know what exactly he annoyed his colleagues with, but being walled up alive in the Transition is a cruel punishment. True, this happened four generations before me, and by the time the family heirloom came into my full possession, the old man not only calmed down, but thoroughly “ran out of control” and performs his duties quite regularly. But seriously, even at our very first meeting, I offered him a deal: he honestly serves, for which he gets the opportunity to cry to me about his miserable life, but not more than once a month. I must say, the conditions were accepted quite quickly and without objection, because the most punished magician suffered precisely from the absence of an interlocutor.

— To the Shelter, please.

— What did you forget there, bright dan? — An unambiguous invitation to talk. Missed, then, the old bastard. I can understand you, but you must understand: I'm in a hurry. So we'll chat after.

“Your conscience, my dear. And I'm not used to parting with this sweet, but slightly unceremonious lady for a long time.

— As you know… — the mirror supported the conversation, starting the construction of the Transition. “On the count of four, remember?

“I remember, I remember,” I shrug my shoulders.

It was a matter of firstness when I climbed into the Portal without waiting until the corridor ceased to be “soft”. They just pulled me out then. And how they scolded ... Mother personally flogged. With a baldric from my own sword. With all buckles and plaques. In general, for a week it was difficult for me to sit and lie on my back. But the lesson learned firmly! True, he slowly asked the mirror to remind him every time.

The glass darkened, becoming like the night sky. The similarity was enhanced by the fact that somewhere in its depths tiny lights began to flicker. Actually, it was this mysterious view in the mirror that led me to the main idea of ​​the rhyme.

As soon as the largest of the stars lined up in a line, aimed into the distance with an arrow, I start the countdown:

- One…

The flickering gradually stops.

- Two…

I sit on the edge of the frame. Yes, I’m sitting down, because there is no glass in the frame anymore.

- Three…

I lean on my hands.

- Four!

I throw my legs over the frame and ...

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Lint Quarter, Royal Asylum for the Infirm,

last third of the evening watch

I jump to the ground from a height of three feet, because the prankster, who was engaged in laying the Transitions, set the exit from the portal corridor at the height of the shelter's fence. However, it’s good that I’m not over the fence itself: I’m afraid, strung on the tips of forged rods, I would look completely unappetizing, but I don’t know how to maneuver when falling. The talent is lacking.

- Why did it take so long? - with a disgruntled expression, but in a voice almost devoid of emotions, a short, strong man with funny bristling, short-cropped red hair asks.

A round face, which does not know the touch of a razor due to the active use of magical potions, but is generously strewn with freckles. Brown eyes, dreary, like those of a dog chained from early childhood. A nose broken and fused incorrectly, but giving the appearance of a young man a peculiar charm (which, however, he does not know how and does not want to learn how to use). A suit made of dense cloth, with secret pockets (of course, you can’t tell from the outside, but you can take my word for it: they are, and there are a lot of them), dark, non-staining, with burnt holes on the skirts of the camisole and sleeves. A silver chain with a medallion certifying that its owner belongs to the Mages Guild, or rather, to the Water Wing. Allow me to introduce: dan Alden, my personal doctor, work colleague and just a good, but harmful person. And, like all followers of magical art, - impossibly stubborn in crazy ideas. For example…

- Can you hear me?

- BUT? I take off the earring. - Now yes.

- Where did you wander?

“Actually, I was asleep.

Ollie's face shows genuine bewilderment.

- Did you sleep?

What else was I supposed to do?

“You can’t sleep during the day, remember?

I remember how you forget! The last brilliant theory of the wise Alden: sleeping in the daytime is detrimental to my abilities. The conclusion was made after I confused two columns in the form of the customs inspection protocol. The fact that dan Raiden was simply and primitively tired and angry, like a thousand xhags, was not taken into account. It seems that even at that time I explained in detail (and not observing the rules of decency too much) what thoughts are hovering in my head about the theoretical constructions of the “red-haired undersized”. Did not help. Ollie filed a report with his superiors, who then spent an hour at length and tediously explaining my duties to me, emphasizing "an indispensable presence in health and full combat readiness." After listening to the most boring (due to the thorough knowledge of each point) lecture, I, offended to the core by the interference in my personal life, took a retaliatory step: left the place of service before the end of the watch and got drunk like a pig. The case ended in a brawl, in which everyone who wanted to (and those who didn’t want to, too) took part, with my arrest and transfer to places of detention, in which they kept me for a week, before asking the traditional question from the category: “Are you cold or will you sit still?” My mood from being in the cell did not improve, about which the questioner was notified. Immediately and eloquently. A week later, it all happened again. And then again and again, but I was not going to give up first and achieved respect for myself. True, for the duration of the shift, the discipline to which I was forced to obey took on the character of a desecration of the body and spirit, but in my free time I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. Well, almost everything. in which everyone who wanted (and those who didn’t want to, too) took part, with my arrest and transfer to places of detention, in which they kept me for a week, before asking the traditional question from the category: “Have you cooled down or will you sit still?” My mood from being in the cell did not improve, about which the questioner was notified. Immediately and eloquently. A week later, it all happened again. And then again and again, but I was not going to give up first and achieved respect for myself. True, for the duration of the shift, the discipline to which I was forced to obey took on the character of a desecration of the body and spirit, but in my free time I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. Well, almost everything. in which everyone who wanted (and those who didn’t want to, too) took part, with my arrest and transfer to places of detention, in which they kept me for a week, before asking the traditional question from the category: “Have you cooled down or will you sit still?” My mood from being in the cell did not improve, about which the questioner was notified. Immediately and eloquently. A week later, it all happened again. And then again and again, but I was not going to give up first and achieved respect for myself. True, for the duration of the shift, the discipline to which I was forced to obey took on the character of a desecration of the body and spirit, but in my free time I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. Well, almost everything. before asking the traditional question from the category: “Are you cold or will you sit still?” My mood from being in the cell did not improve, about which the questioner was notified. Immediately and eloquently. A week later, it all happened again. And then again and again, but I was not going to give up first and achieved respect for myself. True, for the duration of the shift, the discipline to which I was forced to obey took on the character of a desecration of the body and spirit, but in my free time I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. Well, almost everything. before asking the traditional question from the category: “Are you cold or will you sit still?” My mood from being in the cell did not improve, about which the questioner was notified. Immediately and eloquently. A week later, it all happened again. And then again and again, but I was not going to give up first and achieved respect for myself. True, for the duration of the shift, the discipline to which I was forced to obey took on the character of a desecration of the body and spirit, but in my free time I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. Well, almost everything. which I was forced to obey, acquired the character of a desecration of the body and spirit, but in my free time I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. Well, almost everything. which I was forced to obey, acquired the character of a desecration of the body and spirit, but in my free time I was allowed to do whatever I wanted. Well, almost everything.

“Olly,” I try to smile as affectionately as possible, “why did you call me?”

“Ask your fools,” the magician snapped.

- About what?

“Why did they set the Old Wing on fire?”

- WHAT?!

I took off running straight from the spot. Along an untidy alley, at the risk of slipping on wet branches broken off from trees by yesterday's thunderstorm. Straight-straight-straight, left turn, twenty more steps, now to the right ... So I ran.