The Fixer Of God's Ways (retail) (10 page)

All night
people talked in low voices in the aisle, and I kept waking up. In the morning I realized that our express train stopped on the dead end side of a nameless station. Right outside our window was a hedge of blossoming cherry, disgruntled passengers buzzed, and all this invoked a feeling that we were sitting in a beehive. When I poked my nose out of the compartment, I found a policeman in the aisle.

B
reakfast was served directly in our compartment. As a white, I was supposed to ask for a glass of milk, but Fiberti pitied me and ordered herself a beer. As soon as the waiter was gone, we exchanged our drinks.

"
What would I have done without you, Clara?"

"You w
ould've become the prime suspect," Fiberti giggled.

T
he police were taking passengers for interrogation, starting from the tail of the train. What happened there? Grand theft? A forbidden divination? Artisans again?

Our
turn came at lunch time. In the meantime, our transcontinental express, which had never been late by more than half an hour, didn't move!

They called me
first. I mentally prepared myself - half-plunged into a trance. Honestly, I was scared: to fool passersby was one thing, but to lie to the police investigator, another.

The
investigators made themselves comfortable in the dining car: piles of papers towered on the tables and the floor; here and there my eye ran across the invariable attributes of any office - emptied cups of coffee. There was one vacant chair, and I seated myself in it.

An
ordinary man in plain clothes, with the sad face of a funeral agent, but lacking the proper gloss, stared at me. I didn't fall for his modest look and stayed focused. If I could blush, that would be even better…

"
Johan Kitoto?" the policeman asked wearily.

I shyly nodded.
As a child, Johan was probably bullied for his surname.

"I am
Inspector Graft. I have to ask you a few questions."

"
About what?"

The w
hite were meticulous, honest, and direct - I kept that in mind. They perceived theidea o
f
subordination with difficulty and hopelessly garbled communication rituals with their superiors, seeing no sense in them. It wasn't easy for me to reproduce such behavior.

"
For example, about animals. Do you like animals?"

"It depends,"
I replied. It was a myth that the white loved everyone and everything. "Once I was bitten by a dog. I was eight; the old mastiff was blind in one eye and did not see that he was approached by a child…"

"Do
you have experience handling animals?" the inspector continued impartially.

I
pursed my lips; the white usually do not like to be knocked off their train of thought. Should I shed tears now?

"
Yes. My father had a farm, and I spent holidays and vacations there…"

In his spare time
Johan liked to talk about his family. Now it came in very handy.

"
Will you be able to force the animals to do something?"

The conversation
became unpleasant. I opened my mouth to decisively deny everything, but I suddenly recalled one thing.

"Yes, of course.
I am Master of Natural Magic."

'
Well, Johan, you'll pay me for that!' I said to myself.

The
investigator's eyes started glistening. "Can you say what this is?" With a conjuror's gesture the inspector pulled a large glass tube from his pocket and put the catch under my nose.

He was lucky that
I wasn't a real white - Johan would faint, I guarantee it. A hefty dried beetle dangled in the tube. I carefully examined it.

"
This creature is not endemic to the Northwest of Ingernika." When I worked on the golem, I studied the literature on bugs. "You'd better consult with a professional entomologist. My area of specialization is different."

"What is your area of specialization?"

I gently smiled, took a deep breath, and began retelling in my own words the first chapter of
Anthology of the Invisible
by Master Kinluori - the book which was the top reference in all articles on ore bacteria in Johan's folder. Inspector Graft tried to interrupt my monologue, and a look of melancholy appeared in his eyes, but he didn't dare to silence the garrulous white mage. I decided to be lenient to the unfortunate man.

"
Sorry, I can talk for hours about my work," I let him know what he could have expected. "But you wanted to ask me about something else, didn't you, inspector?"

"
Yes!" Graft livened up. "From your point of view, can anybody consciously control the behavior of bugs?"

I rubbed my
forehead, trying to figure out if white magic was capable of that. "It depends on what is required of the bugs: if it falls within the scope of their natural behavior, then yes. Also, it hinges on how many objects are under control."

"
Let's say, three hundred critters. Is it feasible to incite them to attack a man?"

"
Critters like this one?" I was surprised: the beetle looked too desiccated; it died long ago. "Three hundred? How did you catch them after the attack?" The tiny assassins should now be under each pillow on the train.

"
The ones we found were dead."

It sounded v
ery suspicious. I examined the bug again, this time with magic. Thank god, there were no dark among the investigators, and they couldn't feel my manipulations with the Source. The small corpse exuded a barely noticeable flavor - a faint shadow - of necromantic curses. It wasn't the work of white mages! I hesitated for a moment whether to disclose my observation to the police.

I
scratched my nose and blabbed: "Isn't it strange that they all died at once? As if the beetles were enlivened with retrospective animation before being sent to attack. I wonder if there is a necromancer on the train." I didn't mean myself, of course.

Oh, poor
dark magicians! A simple allusion was enough for the police to move on with predatory enthusiasm to another victim. The white mages were instantly forgotten, and I was unceremoniously sent back.

So
, I cursed Nancy, but it hit another person. The brutal murder on the train did occur. I imagined what the hefty jaws of the beetles did to human flesh. Clearly, the train wasn't moving because authorities feared the creatures would run away - live insects would have done exactly that. Luckily, Fiberti and I spent the whole evening dining in front of a dozen people, so we had a provable alibi. It remained to find out who was responsible for my stress. Why didn't these freaks find another train on which to play their dirty tricks?!

A half
hour after my conversation with the inspector the train continued on its way.

"
People say somebody was killed in the last carriage," Fiberti retold the gossip. "He was hacked to death with an ax. A sea of blood all around! His poor wife found the corpse, when she returned from the restaurant."

"W
ho was the victim?" The method of murder was too exotic for a professional killer. Perhaps, it was a personal revenge.

"A state a
lchemist."

They killed an
alchemist! I felt outrageous and decided to facilitate the investigation, out of professional solidarity. I recounted to Clara what I learned from the inspector, hoping for her fresh eye.

"So
he was murdered by a dark mage!" she became agitated.

I didn't support her unhealthy
enthusiasm, "Stabbing him with a knife would have been much safer for the killer."

I
told Clara about the vile NZAMIPS habit of recording and keeping imprints of the aura of all initiated dark magicians. Of course, spontaneous Empowerment occurred sometimes; however, without schooling, dark magic abilities wouldn't develop, and sooner or later many a dark became registered by the police.

"
The imprint of his aura was taken by the investigators, and the killer won't be able to hide - he will be chased across the entire country."

Clara came up
with a few options of escape for the necromancer, though they were feasible only if NZAMIPS didn't have an imprint of his aura. I thought that it might well be arranged, if the villains had a mole in NZAMIPS.

On a
wave of curiosity, I walked to the last carriage and looked at the sealed doors of two compartments. The residual emanation of dark magic was felt even in the aisle. Surely, the investigators recorded an imprint of an aura of such strength. On the way back, I passed by the familiar army mage. Lt. Traych was as grim as death and on duty, judging by the abundance of amulets on him.

My inte
rest in the murder quickly faded.

* * *

White rats were dying in a sealed glass box: their short pink paws frantically scraped the air; their bodies shuddered, soiling fresh sawdust with liquid feces and saliva. But the painful agony of the animals caused no sympathy in five men, who grimly gazed at them. In three minutes all rats in the cage were dead.

"
A hundred-per-cent mortality from one thousandth of a gram," stated an experimenter in the uniform of an army healer.

"
It's in a confined space," his counterpart in civilian clothes retorted.

"
It does not matter - the poisonous gas is heavier than air, it will hang low. Worst of all, it's imperceptible, until it reaches lethal concentration."

"
Will magic help to slow the diffusion of the poisonous gas?" Minister Michelson asked the chief army expert.

The
alchemist glanced up from his contemplation of the cage, "In theory - yes. But we don't have specialists who would be able to solve this problem. It requires a complete reworking of the principles of instrumental control."

"
You promised us an alchemist, Shinner," Michelson turned to the fifth man, who kept silence. "Where is he?"

"
Our specialist was murdered," the deputy minister reported. "By an unknown necromancer. We suspect a saboteur from Sa-Orio."

"
Foreigners!" the chief army expert hissed.

The d
ark mages of Ingernika were against NZAMIPS, but they would never work against their country. The murderer challenged all of them.

"
General Zertak will help NZAMIPS to find the necromancer," Minister Michelson expected no objections. People thought of him as the most powerful man in Ingernika.

"Just t
ell us how we can help," the army expert pulled himself together.

"
Shinner will send you an official request," the minister nodded.

"
The murder happened on the train; we believe that the killer is still there. We need to catch him alive, but even more important is not to let him into Ho-Carg. A battle in the capital is the last thing we need!" the Deputy Minster explained.

"Blow up
the train if you have to and blame it on artisans," Minister Michelson decided.

All
present men nodded in agreement and reached for the door. No one wanted to be in the room when the technicians air and clean the cage with the poisonous gas.

For the rest of the day
our transcontinental train made two short stops; at one of them the police got off, though the murderer hadn't been caught yet. Losers! After they left, my mood immediately improved: I decided to fully enjoy the remainder of my trip: sleep till noon, drink beer, and study the schemes left by Charak.

I
n the middle of the night, a disgusting sensation, as if somebody scraped glass with an iron stick nearby, woke me up. It turned out that
Rustle
urgently wanted to talk.

"W
hat do you want, nature's mistake?" I barely restrained myself from swearing at the annoying monster. Though, when he got the second magician to play with, the monster almost stopped bothering me - he was having fun at the expense of Satal.

T
he monster worried about me. Something awful was placed under the tight magic shields far ahead in the way of our train.
Rustle
didn't know what it was. I sent him to hell; a dark magician who had not had enough sleep was worse than any curse. When I was grumpy, even a drunkard could not take me for a white. I asked Clara to order breakfast in her name and many cups of coffee and started to ponder.

If those who were hiding
under the magic shields were interested in this particular train, it could be only because of the mage-killer! The police screwed up and left. What else would authorities do to catch the criminal? They could set a roundup, but not when the train was moving at full speed. It would be wiser to gather more soldiers, stop the train, push all passengers out of the carriages, and check them one by one. I wondered whether the ambush ahead was set for that. Then they would inevitably identify all dark mages on the train. Surely, the imprint of the aura at the crime scene wasn't mine, but they would make a laughing-stock of me. A dark disguised as a white! If the ambush was held by the army mages, the news would spread across the entirety of Ingernika in one day, and artisans, for whom my masquerade was intended, would continue threatening my family and me…god save me, please!

I had
to find the villain before we would get into an ambush and catch him alive so he could sign his confession. My time was running out.

I
requested from
Rustle
, "You must show me the mage who killed the alchemist!"

The monster
pointed at the first two carriages. He couldn't be more specific as the killer was hiding under a protective shield. I had to go there and find him myself. I knew that any necromantic ritual had after-effects, so raising the zombie-beetle would affect the psyche of the mage-killer. Usually, the after-effects dissipated in eight hours, but with a bit of luck I could see a trace of the ritual his eyes.

"
Clara, be so kind, check if anybody in the police is still on the train. Tell them the killer is in the first two carriages." These carriages traditionally belonged to economy class: they smelled smoke and were right next to the locomotive that whistled too loudly and breathed out exhaust steam every now and then. But seats were much cheaper there, and the carriages were usually full.

"
Are you sure the killer is there?"

"Yes,
I am. I'm going there, too. Perhaps I'll uncover my disguise."

She nodded and
left. I took two large golden apples from our food stock, as if for visiting Nancy and her dad (their seats were in the first carriages), and set off to save myself from shame.

Stepping inside
the economy class carriage, I was thrown off balance by the smell of sweat, cheap cologne, and fried chicken. Surprisingly, I started paying attention to such trifles! Luckily, Mr. Dakker and his little daughter's seats were closest to the locomotive, so I didn't need to look for an excuse to check passengers of both carriages when I waded through them.

It didn't take a lot of time to locate
the necromancer; symptoms of recent contact with an insect mind were obvious: his hands twitched involuntarily and his head performed odd movements. My estimate of eight-hour lasting after-effects was right on the spot! He attracted attention, but he had an accomplice - an unpretentious young man with an emotionless face. This couple probably disguised themselves as a mentally disabled person with a guardian. I didn't pause near the suspect and went right to the Dakkers' seats.

"
Good day," I handed apples to Nancy to keep her silent and busy chewing. "The conductors promised free breakfast to passengers but, apparently, their higher-ups changed their mind."

I
took a seat to watch the aisle with the corner of my eye. Nancy dug her teeth into a golden fruit and mumbled something indistinctly.

"
Thank you. This twelve hour delay has ruined all my plans," said Dakker.

I nod
ded sadly. Meanwhile, the necromancer stood up and went to the tail of the train, away from me.

"Excuse me," I
gave Mr. Dakker an honest look, "my aunt begged me to return immediately."

T
he police, warned by Clara, should be going now toward the necromancer. What a nasty turn of events: we had to chase the killer through the train's carriages, full of passengers. It could end in disaster, especially if the army mage joined the pursuit. I needed to act sharply: to sneak up and knock down the villain.

I
peeped into the second carriage through the glass door. The mage probably spotted the police, because he quickly turned back. Judging by his grim face, he had already activated his Source. I smiled and even waved to him, as if I wanted to chat. The necromancer kicked the inter-carriage door and tossed a primitive immobilizing curse into me (with no effect, as if he just pointed a finger at me).

I
hit him in the face right after that. The malicious sorcerer flew back to the vestibule like a cork from a bottle of champagne and remained lying there, blinking stupidly. Perhaps, my quick victory was mostly due to his shock - a white mage hit him in the jaw! I experienced a painful temptation to add a few kicks to the source of my trouble, but it would unmask me - a fight was exciting, fascinating, but purely dark entertainment. The same moment Lt. Traych grabbed the necromancer by the collar, and the question of who had beaten the villain no longer existed. I cautiously stepped over the two mages and fled.

The
killer was caught in a very timely manner: in half an hour our train slowed down, and I realized what a hot encounter had been prepared for us. All army magicians seemed to gather there - a truly invincible force. I asked myself: did the authorities set up a primitive murderer from a transcontinental express to oppose Ingernika's entire army? Was it merely because he happened to be a necromancer? Hey, we are not so dreadful!

I
gladly watched the disappointment of the army mages, that the fun promised to them didn't happen. They expressed their thoughts by obscene gestures, while we were slowly going away on the train.

When
we left all the troubles behind, I became atypically cheerful. Fearing that the disguise into a white started affecting my brain, I sent to hell my masquerade and ordered beer and burgers. They were so good! The conductors brought free lunch as a compensation for moral suffering. I finished it, too. Well-fed and contented, I was half napping, when Inspector Graft sneaked into my compartment, politely bowing and apologizing. He wanted to know how I found the killer.

I
made a soulful face, "I lived in Redstone for a while. My co-worker at one firm was a dark magician, a great young boy. Once, he explained to me the basic principles of necromancy. To raise a corpse, a magician has to restore in his mind the consciousness of the deceased. Bugs are simpler, but the principles remain the same. Our villain had to keep in mind three hundred beetles. I expected him to act a bit oddly!"

Of course, how
else would you behave having a beetle's mind under your hat?!

The inspector nodded sagely,
"How did you guess in which carriage to look for him?"

I couldn't refer to
Rustle
, but I anticipated his question. "I went to visit Miss Nancy Dakker; she was in the first car. A fine girl! Very sociable. A man who twitched constantly was sitting not far from them. At first, I didn't want to bother you, but Clara convinced me you wouldn't mind my help," I tried to portray embarrassment without a trace of irony or smugness.

The inspector
wished me luck and set off to write his report.

"
Thomas, you are so clever!" Clara exhaled, as soon as the door closed behind our guest.

It was a
balm for my heart. She was the right companion for me.

"
Yes, I'm a genius," I sent false modesty to hell.

* * *

Minister Michelson rarely asked people for a favor. He believed his subordinates must do whatever was needed and beyond, but every rule had exceptions. Today he invited the senior coordinator of the Northwestern region for a confidential conversation.

"
Mr. Larkes, are you aware that Ingernika is on the edge of war with the empire?"

The mage
nodded, confirming, "Yes, Sa-Orio will start when its military factions finish squabbling over future trophies."

That was
right to the point, no understatements. Michelson never doubted Larkes' ability to obtain information. "At first glance, it's a crazy endeavour. Their combat magic and best weapons do not keep up with ours. They are unable to defend their territory from the otherworldly. Why have they become so emboldened?"

A
thoughtful fold appeared on Larkes' forehead. "A new weapon that we don't have?"

"
You hit the nail on the head. It's of an alchemical nature - a poisonous gas. Extremely poisonous and imperceptible until it reaches lethal concentration. Fortunately, our military intelligence managed to get a sample of it."

The minister paused,
giving his interlocutor time to ponder on the situation.

"
Militant nobodies," Larkes voice oozed contempt, but his face remained emotionless. "They had ceded to the otherworldly a third of their territory, and now they stretch their greedy hands to us!"

"
Then you know how important it is for us to counter this weapon. Recall imperial hostility to dark mages, and you'll see why they are in no better situation than our Arango was until recently. Nothing will stop the imperial generals - they desperately need lands free from otherworldly."

"
How can I help?"

Michelson paused, reliving
the events of the recent past. "Our top alchemist, who had magic as a second specialty, was recently killed on a train. We expected him to become the head of the R & D team, working on the Sa-Orio's counter-weapon. In the absence of a man, capable of thinking in two planes - alchemy and magic - simultaneously, there is no hope for a quick result. My experts advised me that a replacement is possible."

Larkes
seemed to slightly stiffen.

T
he minister continued pressuring the senior coordinator, "Somebody in your region invented a couple of interesting things. I was told the author successfully combined magic and alchemy in the design. He would be a good candidate for us."

Larkes
slightly nodded, but did not answer.

"
I am asking you to find the author and offer him a job. On any terms. Keep it in deep secrecy. Will you help our country?"

"
I'll find him," the magician replied quietly. "And he'll cooperate."

The minister
raised his eyebrow - a strange slip of the tongue by Larkes didn't escape his attention. The senior coordinator already knew the name of the man they urgently needed.