“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 was 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.”