My Path to Magic 2: A Combat Alchemist (15 page)

The gap-toothed guy
flushed and then turned pale with crimson spots. I became very good at teasing dark magicians! By the way, it was a particular chic in a duel.

Chairs
were already moved to the sides to free more space in the room. The empath selflessly tried to get between us, but he was pulled to the back rows, not to spoil the fun. Actually, he was the reason why I decided not to use curses: I wasn't sure how my magic would affect the white - the artisan in Ho-Carg lost his mind.  But my rich life experience taught me to weigh alternatives…Diligently watching the hands of the gap-toothed "cleaner" (certain gestures could help me guess which curses he would use), I pulled out of my pocket a paper bag and threw it at my opponent. He fought off my projectile with his shield. The thin casing of my bag had burst, and the dark was thickly sprinkled with a bright green powder. The moron sneezed, again and again. 'Breathe, breathe it in, my pretty boy; that's exactly what I want you to do!'

"What is happening?" the chief
started worrying, but the "cleaners" lacked the reflexes of army mages, and I didn't expect a group attack from them.

"This powder is an inhibitor of m
agic," I grinned mischievously.

The
mages in the room unanimously backed away from the victim. My opponent attempted to conjure something…No way. I started massaging my wrists for the fight.

"Are you going to take responsibility for your words, man?"

Nothing would knock the dark off balance as a quick, sudden loss of the Source; I knew this from my own experience.

"I didn'
t mean anything," the castrated magician effaced at once.

"Is this forever?" someone from the crowd asked with a painful interest.

"No, just for a week."

"Hey!" the chief start
ed. "What are you doing? I am short of staff!"

Why di
dn't he worry about it before our fight? Well, they didn't show good will to cooperate; maybe intimidation would help me?

"I also have
to do some work: important, urgent, and confidential work. You must help me. Give me a cicerone to Gilead, and I'll leave," I said.

The
looks of myself and the chief clashed on the unlucky "cleaner".

"Sorcar, you seemed to have been on the coast before?" the chief asked in a gentle, affectionate voice.
A magician, defeated in a duel, was a pariah for the "cleaners", and taking into account the specific injury he acquired, Sorcar would be teased for a long time. The fact that we didn't throw spells onto each other made no difference. The poor fellow quickly realized the advantages of being away for some time and nodded gloomily.

"Aren't you afraid of
being killed like Officer Gatay?" the chief asked me.

I brushed him off
, "Not at all!" My gesture made the "cleaners" move further away from me.

"Do you
have an idea what happened to him?" the boss narrowed his eyes.

"
I can make a reasonable guess. In Ho-Carg artisans were preparing a coup. Do you think they couldn't come to you? I noticed that someone had cast a white spell near his truck. Your officer bumped into the white mages on the road!"

A puzzled expression appeared on the faces of the "cleaners"
. My poor explanation was better than nothing, they just did not like that it was offered by a stranger.

"C
ome on! Artisans are puppies against you. Just watch for strangers, especially the white ones, and look for your food," I pointed in the direction of my spilled powder, "because they also know this stuff."

"Sorcar, you
will be at the disposal of Mr. Tangor as long as he needs you," the chief concluded as if nothing happened. "Gather your stuff, you'll leave tomorrow morning. And don't come back sooner than a week."

The "cleaners" fled
quickly, but without losing their dignity. In a moment, Mr. Paulo and I were the only ones in the room. The empath looked disheveled and pathetic, like a sparrow chewed by a cat. He had a hard time tonight!

"
I am sorry, I had no control over the situation," he tried to smile.

"Don't worry!
The dark will survive under any circumstances, in any situation. Locals need your help more than them, I think." The townsfolk ran away at any appearance of the "cleaners", and this told me a lot about their relationships with Arango's NZAMIPS.

"For the first time
a dark mage teaches me my work," his words sounded like a compliment.

"
Not just a dark mage; I am a specialist in retrospective animation," I corrected him.

T
he attempted coup in the capital demanded tough measures. A meeting of top officials was devoted to the discussion of them.

The Full
Circle of the Ministry of Public Defense consisted of fifty-eight members, seven of whom were dark magicians, eighteen of whom were white, and the other thirty-three were ordinary people who wished to protect their interests from both the dark and the white. The minister also gathered the smaller Inner Circle. The meetings were held in the capital's Assembly Hall, located on the second floor of the Derenkorf Castle (a silhouette of its towers and a broken line of its fortress walls became a logo of the ministry); it was the only place in Ingernika completely secured from any magic due to a special absorbing construction material.

All
windows in the lobby of the Assembly Hall were fake; the stone walls were gently covered by tapestries in blue and silver tones.  No one knew for sure what kind of protective signs were hidden behind them. The Ministry of Public Defense was, perhaps, the only government institution which viewed human villains as a greater threat than any otherworldly phenomena. The participants of the meeting slowly seeped past numerous guards, greeted their acquaintances, and split into small groups for an informal chat. The design of the lobby, with its columns and alcoves, allowed a good deal of privacy if required.

"
Mr. Larkes, long time no see. Out of sight, out of mind?"

"
Were your problems in my region so serious that you needed my intervention, Mr. Satal?"

"I'd
rather have no help at all than yours. But you seem to have forgotten that you've changed your place of service."

"
Why did you come to this conclusion?"

"Because you still
give orders to my staff!"

The magician wearing the
neat badge "Rem Larkes" started boiling: "I shared my experience and knowledge with your student; I do not want you to ruin his talent. As a 'cleaner', you can't be a good role model for a necromancer."

H
aving heard raised voices, the meeting participants responded differently: the majority hastened to the opposite end of the lobby, but three came up closer. Dark mages like quarrels and battles, and they love watching others fight even more.

The a
ppearance of the minister saved the disputants from getting into a fight. Minister Michelson was an ordinary man with the personality of a dark magician. He could not stand noisy squabbles and relentlessly got rid of unmanageable employees. The wranglers instantly turned into amicably talking colleagues. The audience sighed in unison - some with relief, some with disappointment - and headed to the door, following the minister.

A
ll five regional coordinators of Ingernika's NZAMIPS, the heads of various services (there were seven of them), and the minister himself, with his first deputy and two guests, gathered in a modest room. Larkes was there too, though no one was aware of his position. The minister gave his subordinates and guests exactly one minute to take their seats: "Gentlemen!" the audience assumed a businesslike appearance. "I don't need to explain to any of you that the political situation in Ingernika is critical. The crisis was predicted many years ago, but that doesn't make it more manageable. Several times our ministry demanded preventive measures against theological revisionism, but some people in the government didn't learn any lessons from the Nintark experience.  Fortunately, the rotation of personnel due to the recent elections and the situation in Arango brought to power more determined people, who share our concerns."

Some
from the audience nodded knowingly: the Minister of Justice, the latest protégé of Arango's landowners, committed suicide six months ago - he was one of ideologues of the "new order", which permitted regional authorities to cut the "cleaning" service. The consequences of this "order" in Arango demoralized and impoverished the eastern faction, and they failed to bring a new lobbyist to power. The minister did not allow himself to say a bad word about his already deceased perpetual opponent.

"We
have received a carte blanche. The people of Ingernika want us to eliminate the threat as soon as possible. Some time ago, a group of experts undertook an extensive study of theological threats and developed a number of recommendations, which will be best explained by the mage who will be directly involved in their implementation: my First Aide. Please, Mr. Larkes!"

Larkes
came up to the demonstration board with posters. The former coordinator's face lacked the "puppet expression" so familiar to many people, and this fact attracted everybody's attention to him by itself. The newly presented First Aide to the Minister bit his lip a little theatrically, as if recalling something, and then addressed the audience: "Gentlemen! To say this problem is old is to say nothing. The oldest records in our archives refer to a sect in White Halak, which set the goal of bringing human society into conformity with a divine plan. Our careful historical analysis has shown that artisans have always implemented this teaching through the persecution of bearers of dark Sources and the massive use of forbidden lethal magic, and this always - I repeat, gentlemen, always - resulted in a catastrophic decline of living standards, destruction of state governance, and civilian casualties. I want all of us to be aware: we are left with no other choice but to overpower the artisans; otherwise, Ingernika would become the same as Ingerland under King Girane." Larkes threw a prideful look at Satal, who was seemingly impressed by such a long and heartfelt speech by his foe.

No, there were no naive townsfolk among the leadership of the Ministr
y of Public Defense. They knew that artisans were no harmless eccentrics, but many did not realize the plenitude of resources the cultists had in their possession and the fact that artisans widely used white magic. The majority of the government - ordinary people - tended to underestimate the problems white magic could cause.

"Their main goal is
to perform a ritual, through which they will expel some world evil - obviously, they mean dark magicians and the otherworldly. In reality, the ritual does lead to a temporary reduction in the incidence of supernatural phenomena, but this drop is followed by a sharp upsurge of the otherworldly to a much higher baseline. The inevitable collapse of their efforts, time after time, has been explained by cultists as 'machinations of evil forces'.  Following are preparations for the next ritual. All other goals and actions of artisans are secondary and of tactical importance. For example, the capital's artisans supported political conspirators in Ho-Carg because the latter promised them assistance in murdering certain combat mages who impeded the sect's work."

Larkes paused, letting
listeners catch a sense of what he had said. He certainly shocked many in the audience; dark mages pondered if they were on the artisans' list of people to kill.

"
We have learned that cultists recently developed a powerful amulet against dark magic, which their messenger was supposed to hand over to the militants before the coup. We don't know anything about the amulet except that it exists. But I am sure this weapon will be used against us soon."

Then
the First Aide to the Minister switched to practical measures, and his speech turned into a violent skirmish. No one liked what he suggested: to wait until they start their lethal ritual and catch them red-handed all at once.

"Half-measures are meaningless!"
he argued. "We have been fighting them for centuries, to no avail. The ritual will be attended by all leaders of the sect; this deed is the meaning of their lives. That's when we'll catch them all! Toder Tangor was confident that he would overpower artisans by fighting them one by one, but where is he now? He only bought us some time."

Larkes'
idea, which he named the
King's City
project, met a storm of disturbance. Eleven ordinary men and five mages recklessly quarreled for a while, until the minister concluded the discussion with a stentorian shout: "Gentlemen! No one is stopping you from dealing with the threat in your own way. All current regulations and circulars remain in force. The project will be carried by an independent group under the leadership of Mr. Larkes. Your task is to report any information about artisans' preparations for the ritual."

"How about Arango?" someone from the floor audience
shouted.

"We
'll conduct a military operation in Arango and clear this land of the otherworldly. If artisans show up there, Ingernika's army under the command of General Zertak will neutralize the enemy on the entrusted territory."

There were no
more willing to argue with the minister; the discussion shifted in the direction of practical questions. Regional coordinators were ordered to increase the number of posts of instrumental control and improve the monitoring of wild areas; city and county police departments were ordered to secretly watch dark magicians with power levels above six (they could be suitable for use as victims in the artisans' ritual) and quickly report any unexplained disappearance of them. The chief censor solemnly pledged to track any attempts to spread the forbidden lethal magic.

Satal
had no opportunity to attack Larkes at the meeting: after three hours of debating, even the dark mages lost their habitual ardor, and no one wanted to support Satal's vengeful mood.  But he managed to tell Larkes before leaving: "I see now what you set my necromancer to, Larkes! Even my staff empath isn't as skilled as you in brainwashing people!"

Larkes convulsively frowned and became like
his former self. "I rehearsed my speech for a week. With an acting teacher, by the way. My goal is more serious than your fight with the otherworldly, young man. Learn from me how to work hard, constantly keeping your end goal in mind!"

Satal was
upset that he couldn't come up with a smart reply. Even a combat mage, dark and tough, might get tired of quarreling and wish for understanding, impossible by definition in a circle of his colleagues. The youngest regional coordinator in Ingernika decisively kicked out of his mind the asshole that now became his superior and departed for home, where all his subordinates respected him, and a live artisan, holding something back, waited in a prison cell for interrogation.