– Yes, ashsheri director! – the pupils answered in unison, mentally howling.
There was nothing more humiliating than this trashy book. If there was a will, each pupil would burn it, and feed the ashes to Grymza and her henchmen with a small spoon without salt and pepper.
– Blackrock, follow me! – the headmistress commanded, interrupting the flow of my thoughts.
Picking up my half-empty suitcase and coat, which were already waiting on the bed, I joyfully left the room, hoping that I would never return here again.
Still, something bothered me. For example, exit time. It was planned to leave only in the morning, but now, even though it’s evening, it’s not even dark yet! However, I did not dare to ask why this was so. Once again, it’s better not to contact Grymza first – it’s a bad omen. And it was not a matter of superstition, but of her bad character. Now I was most afraid of frightening off my luck, so I was silent until we went out onto the back porch, next to which a gig with a folded phaeton was already waiting on the driveway, Bathmore, the boarding house’s regular driver, was sitting on the box.
Autumn this year came ahead of time, and as soon as the sun leaned towards the horizon, it became chilly, and at night it was downright cold, so I, instantly shivering, began to hastily put on my coat.
“Bathmore will take you to the South Station of the Travel Bureau,” the director deigned to inform Ashsheri, condescendingly watching my awkward attempts to get into the sleeve.
Out of confusion, I couldn’t catch him, and besides, the bag hanging on the crook of my elbow got in the way.
– Right now? But the academy stagecoach will only arrive in the morning!
I really didn’t like the idea of spending the night right at the station.
– The stagecoach is already waiting at the Travel Bureau station. I was informed a little less than half an hour ago, so I came to hurry you up. Are you ready?
Grymza's question confused me. Usually she was not interested in such trifles as the readiness of her pupils.
“Y-yes…” I answered, finally mastering the sleeve and began to fasten the buttons. But having fastened two, she stopped. – More precisely, no! Ashsheri Director, everything is so sudden! I didn’t have time to prepare to leave… – Seeing that Grymza’s eyebrows were converging on the bridge of her nose, she hastily explained in a whisper: “Can I go to the restroom before the road?”
The face of the woman, whose age had frozen somewhere between the sixth and seventh decades for thirty years, smoothed out.
– Certainly. But hurry up.
– Thank you, eshsheri director!
I put the bag right on the porch and rushed back to the door.
– Blackrock, what kind of gait is that? Why are you rushing like crazy? Where is the dignity? – the whip whistled from behind.
– Sorry!
I straightened up, turned my shoulders and hastily trotted off, as decency required. I broke into a run again when my inappropriate behavior was hidden by the door. I still looked into the toilet. It was true that the matter was necessary, but the main purpose of the absence and the choice of place lay elsewhere. Climbing onto the wide windowsill, I opened the sash of the window overlooking the park and, looking outside, called quietly:
– Simka!
Simka is my familiar Simuran. Actually, elementals don’t have such familiars, but I’m not a completely normal elementalist. I was born an empty nester, and received the gift just two years ago. At sixteen years old, and not at twelve or thirteen, as expected. And even then I received it in an unusual way, but that’s a completely different story*.
My older sister Talaria gave me the SIM card. She saved a little simuran with a broken wing. While he was being treated, the baby’s mother disappeared somewhere, and he had to be left behind. But Simka grew up to be such a hooligan that they willingly gave him away to me, which made me incredibly happy, because I had a pet and a true friend that I had always dreamed of.
Simka and I had love at first sight, but my mother barely survived his stay at the Blackrock estate. Not only did the wolf cub spoil things, but he also scared her on purpose, which is why we all experienced many unpleasant moments. But I was able to insist on my own and pacified both of them – the simuran and my mother too. Surprisingly, my father only chuckled as he watched our battles and flatly refused to take anyone’s side.
– Simka? – I called again, hearing some rustling in the lush thickets of the garden euonymus.
This time we didn’t have to wait long, and from the largest bush, a smiling wolf’s face, white with green spots and stripes, looked out.
– Are you here! “I exhaled with relief and, easily jumping over the window sill, hugged the simuran, who did not stick out of the bushes completely, but only up to his neck. “Is it just me, or have you grown up again?”
Simka licked my nose, making me wince and wipe myself off. I couldn’t talk to him mentally, but the simuran understood me perfectly, and I understood him too.
When I was sent to a boarding school, Simka followed me and lived secretly here in the vast park. How he managed to get food, I never found out. He probably hunted chickens at night in the surrounding villages. Or on rabbits and birds in the mountains, fortunately his wing had grown together long ago, and he flew perfectly. But I would rather believe that Simka steals food from the local kitchen. I heard the housekeeper swear at the cook, and the cook at the unknown thief.
To prevent Simka from being caught, because he is so clean and all white, I regularly tinted his fur with green pigment, which my sister taught me to prepare. Fortunately, the ingredients there were trivial. Now the dye had almost peeled off from the simuran’s fur, and he amused me with his spotted colors, which hid him so well among the white-green leaves and gave my winged wolf a particularly hooligan look of a warrior on a mission. Sometimes they also paint their faces like this in order to be more invisible. As Talaria says: “Rely on magic, but don’t make a mistake yourself!”
– Simka, do you have a letter? – I asked.
The head dived into the bushes, and then looked back, and the simuran put on the ground the leaf crumpled into a ball that I had thrown out the window earlier. I smoothed it out, folded it into a neat rectangle and put it in a special pocket on the magic collar, which was visible only to me and Tali, and also did not interfere with Simka at all.
– Give the letter to Talaria and come back. Yes! I'm leaving right now, not in the morning. First to the Travel Bureau station, remember? My father and I arrived there, and you found me.
Simuran growled affirmatively.
– Here. From there a stagecoach from the academy will pick me up. I’m sure you’ll quickly catch up with us, especially since the road is already familiar to you. All. Fly, don't delay. I want to please my sister with the news as soon as possible.
I kissed my pet right on his wet nose and climbed back out the restroom window. The window was too high. I didn’t calculate something when I jumped out, so I hung on my elbows, vainly groping along the wall with my feet, trying to find at least some kind of support. She found herself. The forehead of a wolf placed itself at my feet and easily lifted me up. Climbing onto the windowsill, I smiled at caring Simka and thanked:
– Thank you!
Simuran wagged his fluffy tail goodbye and took off from the ground with a jump. He opened his mighty wings, the snow-whiteness of which alternated with green, and… He disappeared right into the air, turning into a milky haze, which immediately dissipated. I will never get tired of watching this magic! Not all simurans are capable of this. Probably the only one of mine in all of Balaria.
When Simka delivers the letter to his sister, he will return in the same way to the place where we last saw each other, or where we agreed to meet. True, for the second option it is necessary for the simuran to visit there at least once, otherwise he will have to fly in the usual way and spend more time.
Having finished sending urgent mail, I hurried back. Grymza is probably already tired of waiting and will swear.
– Blackrock, why is it taking so long? Or maybe I should have chosen someone else? “The rebuke came as soon as I appeared on the back porch.
The headmistress, squinting, examined me, as if deciding who would be best to replace me. I went cold. She will do this, and then goodbye to my long-awaited freedom…
– Ashsheri director, please forgive me. I was so excited that I felt sick to my stomach, so I had to stay late,” I began to make excuses.
Even my face became stained from excitement, so Grymza did not doubt my words for a moment.
“That’s great,” she sighed grumpily. – Still, you won’t be able to find another candidate quickly…
Meanwhile, I had already climbed into the gig and sat down on the seat, straightening my back and taking on the most innocent and beautiful appearance, so as not to give her time to come to her senses and doubt me even more.
The headmistress came closer and suddenly covered my hand with hers.
“I want to give you some advice, Blackrock.” Don't rely too much on your father once you get there. And don't boast about his name. Family ties in such matters are not always for the good. And second: the Academy of Wind and Storms is filled to capacity, albeit still young, but already men. Men can be unrestrained in their impulses, so I want to give you something. Here. “She took a pendant on a chain from her pocket and placed it in my palm.
It turned out to be an asymmetrical transparent crystal, lined with black stripes on the inside. All in all, it was about as beautiful as Grymza herself, and would have looked great as her decoration.
– What is this?
I stared at the headmistress, wondering why I needed such a trinket and how it would help at the academy.
Grymza broke into a knowing smile:
– Ugly, huh? “I remained silent so as not to lie to my face, and the headmistress condescended to explain: “This is an artifact of a distortion of appearance.”
– Forgive me, Ashsheri Director, I am sincerely grateful to you and I understand that your gift contains some deep meaning that, due to my age and stupidity, I simply cannot grasp. Could you give me a little hint? – I smiled guiltily, hoping that they wouldn’t drag me out of the gig, completely disappointed in the choice of candidate.
– Why is it unclear? If you need to hide your beauty, just put it on your neck and imagine what you need. Scars, burns, sour mine, just a faded appearance, a tired, painful appearance, warts, whatever!
– Warts?!
I finally stopped understanding what she was talking about and batted my eyelashes.
– Oh, my girl! Nothing can cool a man's ardor more than the right wart at the right time and in the right place. Understood?
– It seems… This is all for disguise, right?
“For camouflage,” Grymza repeated after me and grinned condescendingly. “You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out on your own when the time comes.” Do not lose. A rare thing. Most likely, the second one does not exist. The master did it.
Suddenly I realized that she was looking at me almost affectionately. And her face didn’t look so stern now.
– Eshsheri director, and you… Don’t you need it anymore? – Having blurted out the question, I fell silent and swallowed, afraid of my own courage.
It was necessary to blurt out such a thing! And to whom!
But the headmistress only broke into a surprisingly pleasant smile.
“Grymza’s mask has grown on me over the years, baby.” People here are afraid of fire, so I really don’t need the amulet anymore. It’s not like fifty years ago, when I, a girl not much older than you, was forced to take the reins of the boarding house into my own hands. Believe me, it wasn’t easy…” she shared. – All. Enough chatter. Touch it! – the headmistress commanded the elderly, silent driver. – Good luck, Blackrock! Show them all there!
Raising her fist, Grymza smiled at me and, without turning around, headed into the building. I followed her with my gaze until her straight, tall figure disappeared behind the door, and then looked forward to a bright future.
Chapter 2
There were a dozen Travel Bureau stations in Verlor, the capital of the Onyx Rocks, but I had to leave from the same one where I had once arrived with my father. The journey to it from the guesthouse took about forty minutes, and while we were driving, it began to get dark. Reacting to the deepening twilight, bright magic lanterns began to blink on the streets, flooding the area with a cozy, warm light. I admired the beautiful houses of wealthy capital city residents and the majestic building of the theater, which made an indelible impression on me – I had the opportunity to visit there once with other students.
Sitting in the gig driven by the silent Batmore, I gazed at the noble Eshsheri leisurely strolling in the autumn park with their smart daughters and husbands. At the carriages rushing past. On thoroughbred, well-trained horses with equally thoroughbred riders. To tastefully decorated shop windows. For fountains that don’t freeze even in winter. She looked and smiled involuntarily, sincerely enjoying every moment.
Eh! Still, there are advantages in the life of a magician! Did I think, running around the castle courtyard with the boys, that this would happen to me? That one day I will be able to travel alone without parental supervision?
As we moved away from the center, the houses became darker in appearance. Their narrow dark windows did not please with bright light and pretty curtains, but frightened with bars and iron shutters – the industrial quarter had begun. Buildings of factories and factories stretched out, where magic and craft were intertwined, producing metal products known throughout Balaria: from rune swords to cart wheel rims. From magical jewelry forging to ordinary scythes and sickles. Only at the boarding school did I learn what an important place my native land occupies in the world. How many inventors and scientists are born, and how rich in metals and jewels its depths are, the guardians of which from time immemorial were the ruling families of onyx dragons.
Having passed industrial areas, we found ourselves in residential ones. There were also shops and shops here, but with simpler display windows. Dim lights were burning in the windows, and the shadows of residents preparing dinner flickered. A rollicking melody came from some tavern, and the bright magic lanterns had long since been replaced by dim lanterns that gave off a deathly green color. Because of him, the faces of people rushing from work seemed especially sallow, and a staggering drunkard could easily be mistaken for a zombie.
And in some alleys there was no lighting at all. A noisy group tumbled out of one of these straight onto the roadway, frightening our horse. The driver had to use an air wave to gently push the revelers to the side of the road. Drunken swearing followed, but the phlegmatic Bathmore silently whipped the reins, urging the brown filly on.
My father and I passed these places in the morning, and then they did not look so dangerous. Feeling uncomfortable, I hid deeper into the phaeton and, just in case, grabbed the handle of the bag, regretting that I was not traveling in a carriage, but in an open carriage. There was only a short distance to the station—three or four blocks—when I felt a magical tension in the atmosphere. The hairs on my arms stood up and a specific chill ran down my back. Wary, I turned my head, looking around the street with an unfocused gaze. I was still incapable of doing more, but this simple technique allowed me to see exactly where magic was used.
– Stop! Stop! – I shouted to the driver, but Bathmore was already pulling on the reins.
He managed a moment before a man was thrown out of a nearby alley by the horse's feet, mercilessly slamming onto the pavement.
The air wave at the end reflected from the wall of the building opposite, scattering dust, small debris and dry leaves on the sides. Screaming in fear, I stared wide-eyed at the body that Batmore was trying to avoid. But the filly neighed and fought, not wanting to go further. Meanwhile, the tension of magic intensified. Ahead of us, drifting snow ran from building to building, swirling in the uncertain light of the streetlights like thick steam. Along the line she drew, a real palisade of thick icicles grew. Do not go around or jump over!
Following the driver's quick glance back, I realized that the same fence blocked our way back.
– What’s going on today! – Batmore could not stand it and tried to take it to the left so as not to run over the victim with his wheel.
And I suddenly wondered if I had ever heard his voice before?
“Batmore, is this man… dead?” – she asked quietly, unable to take her eyes off the person lying on the road.
“If he’s a magician, he’ll survive,” the driver tried to reassure me, but he didn’t do a very good job.
– We must help!
I stood up, intending to jump out, but I was stopped by a sudden shout, like the crack of a whip:
– Sit, eshsheri! We don't want any trouble, and the guards will deal with the tramp.
Bathmore pulled on the reins, causing the filly to back up a little. Just a few steps. The gig turned out to be opposite the alley on the other side of the street, but even a fleeting glance made it clear that it was impossible to get through there. The passage was cluttered with some rubbish. So we managed to fall into a trap! If we had driven a little faster, we would have managed to get past…
At the end of the street, from behind the squat houses, the dark silhouette of a gas tank was clearly visible. The large round building in which PR was accumulated, and from there it was used to heat houses and illuminate streets, impressed me even on the day of my arrival. It was located right next to the station. Maybe run to it on foot and ask for help there?
I pulled the bag closer. I can, I can run. Maybe…
But while she was deciding to get out of the gig, which was creating a false impression of security, a group of men appeared from a nearby alley. They were in no hurry, they walked imposingly, laughing and talking. There was no doubt that everything that was happening was their doing.
There were six men, and all were definitely magicians. Not paying much attention to us, they imposingly surrounded the unfortunate man, who lay motionless on the pavement. One of the magicians lit a firefly, illuminating a small space above their heads, and I was surprised to realize that they were all young guys, hardly much older than me.
“Mikael, it seems you’ve gone too far,” stated one, blond and rosy-cheeked, the spitting image of “mom’s little pie,” reproachfully.
– I do not like it! Let's get out of here! – whined another, short and the frailest of all.
I agreed with him, and I myself would gladly follow this advice.
– Splinter, you always don’t like something! Better shut up! – a tall and dark-haired magician, who was named Mikael, barked at him. He poked the victim with the toe of his boot. – Hey, stop being a fool! Get up and start apologizing! I'm waiting!
The man on the pavement moved, and I mentally exhaled. Still not dead!
The scoundrels, and these scumbags could not be called otherwise, began to chatter animatedly in anticipation of entertainment. I couldn’t resist and grabbed the driver’s elbow:
– Bathmore, do something, eh!
– No, eshsheri! My life is dear to me, and these murderers… Ahem! “He glanced sideways at me and corrected himself. – These people are the offspring of noble families in the capital. It's better for us not to shine at all. Maybe they won't pay attention to us.
