Still at the mercy of gloomy misanthropy, I put a student jacket on top of a standard student suit and pulled down a typical student cap over my ears; it snowed, after all. Even my shoes were standard for a student now. I could, of course, come to NZAMIPS wearing an expensive black suit, but then Satal would certainly mock me. Did I need it? No, not until the poison would be ready.
“What’s up? Is the boss pressing you?” Captain Baer, another workaholic, was coming down from the top floors.
I shrugged uncertainly.
“If you can’t stand him, complain to the empath—she will reprove him.”
The best piece of advice ever.
Having shouldered a typical student bag, I walked to the door, feeling with the soles of my feet the heat of protective spells under the carpet. I ought to think of something neutral—spells like that responded to hostile intent; it would be shameful to get arrested for the intended murder of the senior coordinator before even attempting it. There is a bright side to everything. In the end, I could forget about this nest of vipers until next semester—freedom!
I perked up and went to the tram stop, alone as always. The police headquarters were located in the commercial area and stretched for nearly a block, with one side facing Park Road and the other - Carriage Alley. A few more separate buildings (including the mortuary and a parking garage) were situated in the yard, but the majority of government officials worked till exactly 5:30 p.m. and then instantly disappeared. As the saying goes, only fools and horses work. There were neither pubs nor restaurants nearby, for obvious reasons, and I did not expect any company. Naturally, two men hiding in a gateway caught my eye, at least on a magic level. In one of the strangers I surprisingly recognized Quarters. Interesting: why did the lover of comfort suffer through heavy snow at night? Maybe he was driving a car?
I paused, waiting for the strange couple. Ron’s friend was very short; the back of his head was hardly up to my chin and below Quarters’ shoulder. I held a vulgar joke about bad weather at the tip of my tongue, because the small fry turned blue from the cold (with his body weight he should have given serious consideration to the choice of his clothes), but Ron was not in the mood to listen to new stories and didn’t even say “hello.”
“What are you doing at the police headquarters?” he demanded aggressively.
I raised my eyebrow—it was weird interest on his part, but replied, “I take lessons in combat magic.”
“Give me a break! From whom?”
“From a visiting specialist. Edan Satal, have you heard of him?”
“He’s the senior coordinator of the region!” Shorty sighed.
I wondered how come he knew so much. As for me, I hadn’t been aware of Satal’s rank until Kevinahari enlightened me.
“Well, he is not bad as a combat mage.”
Though he was the worst teacher I ever had.
“You’re lying!” the short guy said flatly. “Did you really come for some stupid magic at this time?! I would have believed it easier had you said that came to have tea there!”
I lost my breath from his statement.
I suffered, and he saw that as a cause for jokes!
My mind still struggled to come up with a killing derogatory response, but the dark nature already started acting; my fist met the offender’s jaw. Of course, I was in no position for a good swing, and my hit spared his nose, but made him fly backward to the ground. That is, onto the pavement; that is, onto the rocks. Only his hat and high collar saved Shorty from instant death.
Again, my reaction overtook my thinking. At least, I was in complete agreement with myself. That’s how a dark magician ought to respond!
Ironically, Quarters hurried to help his fellow.
“What’s wrong with you? What are you doing?” he was outraged.
I shrugged, “What did you expect from me? If he wants to be rude to a dark magician, he should wear a helmet. Anyway, I don’t recommend that you communicate with this goon. He is one of the artisan, obviously.”
“Why did you say that?”
“Because!”
Never before had I witnessed paralysis of the brain in Ron. On the other hand, what should I expect from an ordinary person? Let him kiss his new boyfriend. If he started protesting, I would fight him. Before Ron was able to defeat me, but now Quarters wouldn’t stand a chance; I was taking classes in martial arts and had already achieved some progress. Don’t get me wrong, the inborn skills of the dark were usually enough to live a good life. But Satal had a picture on the wall where he held some shiny thing, wore a wrestling suit, and looked very pleased. That is, had I started a fistfight with him, he would have made mincemeat out of me.
I hate to fear people!
Suddenly Quarters came to senses; he decided not to run up on the cuffs and fully concentrated on the short guy who clapped his eyes in confusion. I turned around and walked to the tram stop, feeling sudden bitterness: when I was beaten up, Ron did not fuss so much.
My nerves became completely shattered. Imagine, I had a desire to go back and explain what was going on. But Rustle reprovingly protested, and a shameful moment of weakness safely passed.
I decided to instill respect in the monster.
I’ve got a box. What an amazing box I have! What a mysterious box! And what’s inside the box? I sensed that the naive creature was sticking its long nose into my thoughts. “And inside the box is… lightning!” Rustle disappeared as if it were blown away by the wind. If the otherworldly doesn’t get brains from birth, then age won’t fix the problem.
I came up to the tram, already feeling heated, angry, and perky.
Ms. Kevinahari was having mint tea in the office of the senior coordinator. From windows she did not see what was happening in the square, but something made her sadly shake head.
“Have you read your student’s file carefully?”
Mr. Satal threw the last papers in the drawers.
“What do you mean?”
“He grew up in a house with a white mage and saw his dark relatives only occasionally. That affected his character.”
“So what?”
“Don’t you push him too hard?”
Satal rolled his eyes up: “What are you talking about? He is dark; if he is not shaken like a pear, he won’t be doing anything!”
“There are other approaches…”
“For other approaches he’s too old! Only in my way can I make something of him.”
“Oh Dan, it seems you will get more than you expect.”
“No problem; I’ll survive,” Satal grinned. “He asked permission to visit relatives on holidays. I will let him go to restore emotional balance.”
The idea of mental equilibrium in a dark magician seemed to amuse the coordinator.
“Let’s hope that their contact doesn’t cause conflicts,” the empath pursed her lips.
Satal, as is always the case with the dark, took into account interests of only one side; how the disturbed combat mage would be perceived by the juvenile white did not bother him.
Chapter 26
Students sat in the last lectures with martyrs’ faces, but the spirit of Christmas holidays was hovering over the university: the white hung in the hallways traditional paper ornaments (very much like real flowers, just not fading), the walls were full of many-colored advertisements for parties, and magicians with artistic inclinations competed in the creation of ice sculptures. I took a hand in the holiday preparations, too - designed a device igniting the lights on the Christmas tree before the Faculty of Combat Magic. One might think that a dark magician and volunteering are incompatible things, but my desire to see how people would gasp with surprise proved irresistible. The Christmas tree was a live spruce; when they started to hang light bulbs on it— God knows; it took me a lot of time to find all of the control circuits. But now the garlands flashed in seven different algorithms, and the dean of the white mages bit his lip with envy.