The Fixer Of God's Ways (retail) (8 page)

"You have to
find those responsible and avenge."

"
I had been working on this for over twenty years. And he's killed again."

Sata
l decided not to focus on the strange phrase "he's killed again". Instead, he reached into the memories inherited from
Rustle
and grasped how he could manage to comfort Larkes.

"
You are not alone! He will return! Strong spirits always come back. They are re-born into life time and again. We will wait for him together, you and me!"

"
Yes!" Larkes roused suddenly. "It will be so, I know. I've seen the proof! We will try harder!"

Sata
l slightly moved away from the deranged mage. The senior coordinator didn't look like a strong combatant, but there were plenty of stories about his opponents, who died despite all their power.

A
fter digging in his desk for a short while, Larkes pulled out a small bottle without a label, poured a few bright yellow droplets into his glass and, not finding anything to dilute the potion with, drank it all straight up. Judging by his face, the remedy was disgusting, but he immediately sobered.

"
We are meeting in the small conference room in half an hour," he said, recovering from the bitterness of the potion. "Invite all department heads. This murder should not go unpunished!"

A
t first glance, the idea to declare my death was awesome! But the more hours that had passed since the explosion, the more I understood Johan's doubts about its feasibility. To claim that the torn-to-shreds body was mine wasn't difficult - Mr. Flap's residual aura resembled its master's. But I, safe and sound, had to vanish without a trace.

"Do y
ou understand that for a dark mage to pretend to be someone else would be nearly impossible? You are few, and you easily strike the eye. As soon as you go somewhere, people will spot a strange traveler. You will leave tracks, unless you start killing witnesses."

I couldn't
challenge Johan's arguments. The white, when they begin reasoning, are horribly rational. "What if I masquerade as a commoner?"

The
white mage pursed his lips and shook his head in denial. "It won't work! Many ordinary people are as sensitive as empaths. They will unriddle you in five minutes, and the police will ask you to show your documents."

I
started fearing that the only way to get out of Suesson for me would be on foot, sleeping on the ground and feeding on rodents and grass. Another brilliant plan came to my mind, "Can you send me as a parcel?"

"
What?!"

Johan and Polak refused to discuss it, and
I fell deep in thought. A premonition of upcoming troubles hadn't left me, and this time I did not want to neglect it. I needed to invisibly wade through Suesson to Larkes in Redstone. My eccentricity shouldn't attract anybody's attention. I gulped, sighed, and finally managed to say, "Hey, Johan, could you disguise me as a white?"

It
was so crazy that it could actually work, but I needed Johan's help with its implementation. Especially because time was running out. My companions would have to inform the police the same day, as soon as Quarters returned home in his car and drove them back to the village.

At first
, I changed clothes. Now I was dressed in Polak's spare sky-blue pants, comfortable but obscene looking. Johan donated a warm knitted sweater (given that the white was half a head taller than me, I drowned in his sweater like it was a tent). Quarters, stunned with my pitiful look, donated his used jacket. But it was not enough for a disguise. They bleached my hair to a nasty orange color. At least now I could wear the chic, stupid red sneakers I bought in Mihandrov.

There was no time for anything else
: I had to disappear before my friends would report the incident to the police. I quickly signed a power of attorney in Polak's and Johan's names and dated it for the previous week. Johan made an amulet on the run, imitating an uninitiated white Source, and hung it on me, saying, "Nothing good will come of this!"

As if I didn't know that
without him! The main thing was to hold on till Redstone. Larkes would help - I got into this horrible mess because of my employment with NZAMIPS. Another problem was Max: I had to leave him at home. I patted the dog's ears and hoped that Colonel Reich would take good care of him. The "cleaner" would surely feel that something was odd with my death, but he would keep silence. Perhaps, he would even be comforting Chief Brian to take this "loss" easily.

Ron
dropped me off at the turn to the road leading to the train station, and I prayed to all gods and forefathers that none of Reich's "cleaners" would spot me dressed like a white. No assassins would be needed - I'd just hang myself. I was so ashamed of my disguise that when a big lad accidentally hit me with his sack on the platform, I did not react. That scumbag did not even stop to apologize! Only then did I realize why Johan was so skeptical about the success of my masquerade.

I s
queezed through into the carriage, took a seat in the corner, and started frantically recalling what I knew about the white's demeanor. We ask them to serve, being confident that they won't turn down our requests. People usually push them aside and don't expect to hear any protests in return. Could I portray someone like this?

All eight hours of travel
I was meditating, trying to create a new - white - personality for myself, through which I could view the world.
Rustle
manifested himself, figured out what I was doing, and commiserated. This unpleasantly impressed me - the otherworldly felt sorry for a mage!

When I got
off the carriage to change trains, I realized that our society treated the white truly differently. I'd never thought before that sitting on the bench in the afternoon, for all to see, was a dangerous pastime! It was a small train station, but people bustled around, and I wanted to relax for a bit. I went to the far end of the platform, took a seat on a lonely bench, and prepared to safely have lunch. I was reading the timetable and enjoying a hefty meat pie. And I managed to finish half of it.

"
Hey! This is our bench. It'll cost you money to sit here."

What was that
? Not a minute to relax! Perhaps, my martyr gaze perfectly matched the image of a white.

"
What are you, deaf? Give us all your coins!"

Three midgets
of my height dared to pressure me! I could have coped with them without any magic! These riffraff didn't pick on dark mages, afraid of rebuff! I faced a dilemma: either to give away all my money and get stuck there for a long time, or beat them to death and betray my image.

"
What's going on here?" a loud question made the hapless robbers wince and almost instantly disappear.

"
How are you, kid?" somebody came up from behind and tapped me on the back.

Gr
rr…Don't touch me! "Thank you, I am well."

A typical
policeman in the rank of a corporal stood at the bench: round belly; carefully ironed, shabby uniform. I trembled from anger - hopefully, he would think I was scared. The officer mindfully looked at me and my cheap luggage, and kindly asked: "Did they take anything from you?"

"
No," I tried not to look into his face - my eyes would give me away.

"Traveling alone? W
here are you going to?"

"To
Redstone," I smiled apologetically. "I want to apply to the university."

"You are
a brave kid, as I see! Come with me, it's not safe to sit alone in such a place."

He didn't ask me
to show any documents, thank god. Johan gave me his passport, but I wouldn't withstand its proper verification. The compassionate corporal took me to the railroad police office, offered me hot tea, and helped me get on the right train. I'd never thought that policemen could be so kind-hearted!

Th
e lesson had been learned. After that incident, I moved around only in a crowd and rested close to police stations; that is, I behaved contrary to my usual habits. And I wondered why the white did not like traveling! For them, any trip was real hell. Ordinary people often treated the white worse than any dark, especially when dealing with a meek stranger.

With all
the train changes and attempts to cover my tracks, the trip to Redstone took a whole week. By the time of arrival my nerves were on edge: people cheated me twice and robbed me once, not counting numerous cases of rudeness and neglect. If I had been exposed to one more week of such treatment, I would have joined the ranks of the artisans to make the life of humankind sour!

On the last stretch
, I joined a company of traveling white mages, and my trip became a bit easier, though people tried to deceive them, too. On parting, a lovely blonde kissed my cheek and called me the most decisive white (!) magician in the world.

T
o NZAMIPS headquarters I rushed like a moth to a flame: meeting Larkes was my priority.

Without the
card of a NZAMIPS employee (I returned it at dismissal), I was stopped by the officer on duty. Seeing a visitor with a suitcase, he tensed and pressed some button on his desk - probably, activating a defensive amulet. I realized that he was afraid of me - white!

"
May I see Mr. Larkes?" I asked him politely.

"Do y
ou have an appointment?"

"
No, but I urgently need to talk to him."

The officer
on duty frowned, "Mr. Larkes is very busy. He doesn't take walk-ins. Call his secretary to book an appointment."

"I'll
wait, if he is busy."

It was
pointless to argue with a clerk. I took a seat in a chair for visitors and caught myself thinking that I had already been in the same situation before, but with a different coordinator. Not my first time. I would stay here overnight, if I had to.

After about half an hour
, the officer got out of his desk and brought me a cup of tea. "I am not supposed to say that, but the senior coordinator isn't in today. He's gone."

My heart skipped a
beat. "Where to?" I whispered in shock.

"To
Suesson, to run an investigation."

When people say
that the dark can't die from shock, don't believe them. Black spots started floating in my eyes; the voice of the officer, advising me of something, retreated further and further away; pictures from the past flashed in my mind; my life hung by a thread. Then the guy called a healer. I imagined what would happen if a white mage examined me - a dark pretending to be white - and abruptly returned to life.

"
I'll stop by tomorrow. Good bye." And I rushed out of the headquarters.

Shit
! I spent so much time and nerves to get to him, and he drove off! I suspected that Larkes' investigation was directly related to my "death". How long would it take for the senior coordinator to put two and two together and realize that he was cheated? Perhaps, I'd better not count on his help.

I understood
that the more time that passed since my "death", the harder it would be for me to "resurrect". But if I came to life, my family would be in danger. As the head of my clan, I was responsible for their safety. If other darks learned that I left my family without protection, my status would never rise above the plinth - the stigma of loser would haunt me to death. I needed a plan, and I needed a shelter.

Over t
he past two years Redstone had changed its image: the city became more suspicious. I saw police roadblocks on the streets, new defensive amulets on front doors, stronger protective perimeters around buildings. I started thinking that if I checked into a hotel, a receptionist would activate a magic seal on Johan's passport and instantly recognize that the document did not belong to me.

M
y clever feet made a decision for me. They brought me to my former "chatter box". I hoped that she still lived in the same place. Luckily for me, Ms. Fiberti was at home. She looked the same as before, except for new glasses.

"
Hi, Thomas! Come on in; do not stand in the doorway. Have a seat. Coffee or tea?"

A
familiar bellied teapot and small sugar cookies appeared from nowhere almost instantly.

"
Did you like my novel?" the hostess started interrogating me. "I couldn't find you to get your approval."

"The
novel was fine."

"Do you want a
copy with my autograph?" she tried to pay no attention to my odd look.

"M
s. Fiberti, may I stay at your place overnight?" I cut her short.

She giggled,
"Thomas, you are the first to ask me such an improper question. But so be it, stay."

I
gladly fell into the chair; from enormous relief I even started feeling a headache. To rest in a safe place was exactly what I needed now. By morning I would be able to pull myself together and think of something else.

"
Thomas, are you okay?" Ms. Fiberti asked cautiously.

I
met her gaze; her eyes behind glasses were smart and understanding. We had known each other for a long time, my "criminal" past did not bother her and, surely, she wasn't related to artisans. But the invincible dark magician was ashamed to confide that he needed help and advice!

Hearing
a dull narration of my misadventures, Ms. Fiberti neither moralized, nor made stupid jokes. She was a gift of fate - she solved half of my problems in one minute.

"
Do you have a passport, Tom?"

"What's the point of having
it? Only Johan can activate its seal. When magical endorsement isn't active, the document will be a source of additional problems to me."

"
Give it to me." Ms. Fiberti took Johan's passport and vigorously crumpled it.

"
What are you doing?!"

"
Have you forgotten to take your passport out of your pants before doing laundry, Johan? We'll soak your document in bleach, too. Rest assured, by morning there won't be any magic left in the seal. Tomorrow we'll go to the district council. You'll request a new passport, and I'll certify that I accidentally washed it. You'll easily get a replacement!"