My Path to Magic 2: A Combat Alchemist (29 page)

It was
most hurtful. I killed almost no one, at least deliberately, in my life and was punished by being forced to work for NZAMIPS.  But these assholes committed a real massacre with impunity! Moreover, our precious government (I would hit it in its collective face) had authorized all of it. Dealing with necromancers wasn't acceptable for them, but to disembowel children - no problem.

Okay,
those two were dead; now I had to whitewash myself.

"What
do we do next?" the chief was slowly coming back to his senses.

"It's not a big deal - w
e are not responsible for
Rustle
. I turned off my perimeter - I was about to install a new one. They showed up unexpectedly in the midst of my work. That's why the tragedy occurred."

"
And I stopped by your place to check the setting up of the new perimeter. We did not expect them to show up here." Brian supported the emerging plot.

"
What a tragic accident! This could happen even to the best of us."

"
Amen!" the chief nodded gravely. He put his cup on the table - his hands did not tremble any more - and went to call the morgue. A group from NZAMIPS, along with the police, arrived in the morning. By that time I had removed the affected planks with brown goo from the floor in the living room. NZAMIPS didn't offer me money for the damaged floorboards.

The path to
the world recognition of my genius began prosaically - from an intense correspondence with Redstone.

B
efore my meeting with Giom I wasn't sure if I could succeed in the project designed to bring happiness to the mankind. But if a white mage managed to learn the art of necromancy, then solving the problem of stupid ore bacteria should be a piece of cake for me. We needed a place for experiments, and I decided to buy the house of the suicide archeologist. The municipality asked mere pennies for it. Only a madman would be willing to live in there (or a dark magician).

I
replaced the floorboards in the living room myself, with a hammer and nails - carpenters were scared to touch them. I was lucky that they agreed to sell the timber to me. What would Johan say after discovering the cause of the repair? The white mage from Biokin was the main scientific force in our project.

M
y companions came to Suesson along with Quarters.

"Why did you come here?
You wanted to start a car business?" I asked him.

"
It didn't go well," Ron shrugged and lowered his voice. "Do not tell anyone, okay? Do you remember I had a row with my relatives?"

"
Yes, why are you asking?"

"
I was recently tipped off that my mother wanted to declare me insane."

He didn't look certifiable
: his hair was combed, he didn't slobber, his gaze was moderately sassy.

"N
onsense! Did you complain to your uncle?"

"I did
. He advised me to disappear for a while. My mother has friends among the healers. She can arrange almost anything she wishes for. I would be arguing for the rest my life that I am not crazy."

"Hmm
, it proves that my family is not the worst that can happen. But you've chosen the wrong place, anyway."

"
Are you afraid of competition?" Ron frowned.

"Not at all
! I've already earned a good reputation and clients."

With
the arrival of new residents my large house instantly became noisy and crowded. For the first three days my companions did nothing but talk about their trip: Quarters made fun of their numerous transfers (by the way, I had one extra compared to them), Polak was angry with the poor train service (he never travelled with a motorcycle in his luggage, it would have been a good reference point for him). As for Johan, the white mage was in such shock from the trip that I wasn't sure he would ever recover from it. Johan brought a bunch of cans and glass tanks with him and did not realize his luck yet - nothing was stolen or broken.

In the evenings
Polak listened to music on my gramophone.

I
regretted that I postponed the delivery of equipment for our project - I would have sent everyone to the barn to work and freed some time for myself. As usual, in order to save money I used freebies offered by my new acquaintances - the cotton growers; they rented an entire cargo train and found some spare space for my stuff. I expected the cargo to arrive any day now. I hoped the story with two mages on my floorboards receded into the past without any unpleasant consequences for me. In Redstone, my superiors' limitless power provided me with impunity. But I was now in Suesson. My return to reality was tough: Lemar, Brian's assistant and replacement, brought to me the head of Suesson's "cleaners" armed with a full set of combat amulets.

"
Colonel Reich wants to talk to you," a sneaky guy chirped and briskly galloped back to his car, apparently not wishing to be present at the conversation between two combat mages.

I tried to grasp
the seriousness of my new problems - dark mages do not visit each other without reason.

"
Can we talk inside?" the colonel suggested.

He
comported himself a little too calmly, and his gaze was too clever for a "cleaner". I brought him to the living room; his glance darted to where a stain from the missing bookcase was still noticeable and thus disclosed the reason for his visit: that skunk Brian had spilled the beans! I thought the chief of Suesson's NZAMIPS would know how to keep his mouth shut! But Brian was now in quarantine…I even wondered why Reich did not take stormtroopers along.

"
Have you heard the news?" the intruder asked in indifferent tone. He held his hands behind his back and seemed to be in no hurry to activate his Source.

"Which one
?"

"Big bosses want to
set a hunt for artisans in our district, the ones that your deceased friend Giom talked about at his press conference."

I winced.
He surely teased me about my "friend", but he was in his right.

"
And?"

"And
I do not need a gang of idiots in my district trying to find a cat where it is not."

"What do I have to do with this
?"

"T
he first thing I'll do is send an inquiry about your immunity to
Rustle
and the level of risk you present to the general public as the carrier of this creature."

He did
not need to continue. A bunch of hunters, angry from a lack of the artisans, would find a suitable victim - me, despite the difference in Sources used for killing the kids. I thought for a while.

"
It was self-defense!"

"P
eople were burned for such 'self-defense' in the past", Reich cut me hard.

"
In short," Reich continued after waiting for my objections, "Brian sees only one solution: to force Giom's backers to cover up his death. They'll pull on the brakes if we drive them into a corner. Yours and Brian's testimonies won't help: you are directly involved, he is temporarily incapacitated. Giom's aura in the press conference hall partially matches the imprints on the kids' bones, but this is not enough; we need more tangible evidence. And you'll help me get some."

"
What do you mean?"

"T
here were ten corpses, from your own words. We think that the last two are underground, in the mine. Surely, Giom wasn't as careful deep down with destroying evidence from the crime scene as he was on the surface."

He was forcing me to go down
into the mine, into the place where hundreds of people died, into the absolute blackness that did not dissipate for millennia, into hell.

"I will
not climb down there!"

"You will," the
"cleaner" chuckled. "Giom hid that ancient bone somewhere; without it no one would believe your report. You'll take us to the place where they found the jaw."

I
instantly rebelled: "I can't find that place! It wasn't a full necromantic ritual - there was no Circle, I was the only one! All that I got were images of last days of the deceased. Only a few pictures!"

"Will you be able to
recognize this place if we pass by it?" Reich squinted.

I delv
ed into the memory scraps of the deceased. Where did it happen? Some sort of a lateral tunnel, where this man, tormented by thirst and lack of sleep, barged into ghouls who were rapidly gaining strength. The deceased hardly knew where he was.

"
It's a bad idea."

"There are no o
thers. Brian didn't rat on you, but I'm not a novice. And I don't need a witch hunt here: half of my specialists will quit immediately."

I
didn't want trouble either. I just bought my first home, invested all my money in it.

"
Okay. Only…ehh…" I didn't know how to explain my fear of climbing down without losing my dignity.

"
Everything will be organized professionally," the colonel proudly drew himself up and went out without saying a word.

Son of a bitch!
And Brian, too! These smartasses finally found someone to blame! Once again NZAMIPS proved to be just another source of trouble for me.

"Any p
roblems?" a concerned Quarters stood at the door.

T
o tell him that I made a fool of myself once again? Never!

"
No, no. They have asked for help." It was almost true. "Just to be clear: I am still a part-timer with NZAMIPS."

Quarters pulled
his eyebrow: "I thought you stopped - you didn't want to work for them."

"I still don
't want it. But I am forced to repay my duty to our homeland."

I
would never wish such creditors on my enemy! I cursed them with all my heart while driving to Junction station. The equipment I ordered for our new project had arrived. I needed to arrange its delivery to the farm in such a way that my presence wouldn't be required.

* * *

For the Department of Theological Threats (its undercover name was a group of functional designs for object strategies), NZAMIPS hired singles, preferably with old scores to settle with the criminals on the group's wanted list. Many people still remembered the last attempt of the artisans to bring happiness to the world at any cost; insufficient time passed to settle all accounts and calm passions. The group's size never exceeded twenty-five; if necessary, its permanent commander had the right to borrow any number of employees from the ministry. The group never failed; however, it had no active combat operations so far.

Surrounded by people who
had known him for fifteen years, Larkes felt no need to pretend. He expressed his emotions with gestures, as he used to. His coworkers knew his eccentricities and understood them.

Now Larkes r
hythmically tapped the desk with his palm (it meant he was impatient and decisive). "Gentlemen, the situation has moved forward. Did everybody have a chance to study the meeting's materials? Mr. Geniver, please."

S
even NZAMIPS employees with top secret clearance gathered for a retreat meeting on the outskirts of Redstone: a white mage, two dark ones, and four ordinary people. A skinny old man in civilian clothes - a famous financier in the past - took the floor. His sharp intellect and predatory instincts enabled him to survive the artisans' interest in his wealth, but his son was trapped forever in the walls of an elite hospital for the mentally ill. Mrs. Geniver visited her "sunny boy" three times a week, with quiet tenacity hoping for a miracle.

"
Our analysis revealed that there are four objects on our list that show systemic deviations in their behavior. Object 1 on the first slide has a reputation which does not meet his psychological profile: he is knowledgeable well beyond his background and successfully resolves hopeless situations. These inconsistencies are statistically significant."

The files of all four
suspects were carefully examined by the participants of the meeting.

"
Should we exclude the dark one?"

"
No," Larkes' fingers trembled in the air (it meant he fell into thought). "They have already demonstrated that they could win over even combat mages. Pay attention to the third object. Sensors of instrumental control recorded suspicious activity in the area of the object's responsibility."

"
Should we put them under 24/7 surveillance?"

"
It can draw unnecessary attention to them, if we ask for more help from the ministry."

"
Four objects are not too many; our resources will suffice."

"Gentlemen
!" Larkes' fingers were pointed a little upwards (it meant he was inspired and excited). "We are moving on to the second stage of the project!"