《A young magician from Earth, Book Two. - The Dungeon mysteries.》


 Chapter 16.

    "I wonder what the person who wrote this meant?" Tim wondered as he read the cryptic inscription.


    "Anything at all. He must have been in a bit of a bad mood."


    "Him? What if it was her?"


    "It''s unlikely. Girls rarely write on walls. By the way, good idea. Let''s take our rings off and see. Perhaps we can determine what kind of person he was."


    Along with the others, Tim also removed the ring, though he highly doubted that an earthling could have left a message. Instead of the letters he was accustomed to, there was now a cuneiform on the wall. It seemed that a similar alphabet had been used, either in Babylon or in the Sumerian kingdom; Tim couldn''t remember exactly. But it could also have been Scandinavian runes - he knew next to nothing about them, having only come across them once in pictures. But his intuition told him it was the writing of another world. And so it turned out.


    "Pa bap tsa do tok!" Ri-Bo said.


    "Dind bamz zdi gung?" Naar-Tam asked something.


    "Taass siorsh iliss ashmarr," Mez''A''Shib answered.


    Ri-Bo''s voice was the clatter of little hooves, Naar-Tam''s was the chime of bells, Mez''A''Shib''s was the hiss of snakes. It wasn''t his fault he was born a dark elf, Tim mentally reprimanded himself.


    "Ut la kok?" Ri-Bo turned to him, and Tim hurriedly put the ring back on his finger.


    "I''m sorry, I got a little distracted. You guys, talk so funny!"


    "Your talk is very funny to hear from the outside, too," Mez''A''Shib grinned.


    "But I didn''t say a word!"


    "But then, during the walk in the woods, sometimes you talked a lot," the ironic smile reappeared on the drow''s lips. "Okay, we can talk about that later. Personally, the language in which the inscription is made is completely unknown to me. I''m a little familiar with the languages of the light elves and dwarves, but it''s definitely not them. Orcs don''t have their own writing, they just draw what they want to tell the world about."


    "It was actually done by someone from the yusmes, that''s how they write," Naar-Tam explained. "Well, that explains a lot! He took a bad fall, blew his nose, took offense at the world, and used his own blood to tell of his misfortune."


    "Does the yusmes have blue blood?" Tim clarified, distracted from his thoughts. Why should that surprise him, though? Not all creatures have red blood! He remembered an incident two years ago, when he had accidentally stepped on a caterpillar, leaving a green stain on the pavement. Some ocean dwellers, like octopuses, seem to have blue blood. Too bad there''s no Internet at hand, or he''d know for sure in a minute! So is Selkise blue inside, too? The thought made him blush slightly for some reason. Fortunately, none of his friends noticed.


    "I''m surprised that the crybaby could even get out of here in that kind of mood. Well, we''re not going to cry over nothing like that, are we? Better get a move on!"


    Before he followed his friends, Tim touched the wall with the palm of his hand. The cold burned his fingers, though it was warmer on the minus second tier than upstairs. For a moment he could capture the feelings of whoever had left this inscription here - disappointment, pain of loss, fear and despair, even an underlying desire to die. No, there was no trivial resentment over a broken nose. Strange, he''d never noticed that ability before. Was it because of what Selkise had said, that he too was a latent empath? If she were him, she''d probably be able to find out a lot more. Especially since the author is from the same people as her. But it''s doubtful she''d dare come here. And the guys aren''t likely to be thrilled if a girl joins their company.


    "Hey! What are you doing up there?"


    Hehad to catch up with his friends. They didn''t get far, though: the only tunnel leading into the interior of the tier soon ended in a fork. They could have gone further, or they could have turned right. They went straight ahead, but soon they had to choose whether to go straight or to go left. This time they went left, but around the next bend the situation repeated itself - left or right. Finally they ended up at a dead end - another passage ended with a blank wall.


    "Damn it!" Mez''A''Shib swore. "I should have known all along! We''re in a labyrinth!"


    "What is a labyrinth?" Ri-Bo asked naively. As far as Tim had learned, the tilfings, like the elves, were forest dwellers, but unlike Gallaeri, their planet had no mountains or dungeons, only plains and steppes. Even if you''re lost by chance, you can always find your way either by sun or by stars, and sooner or later you''ll come out somewhere. But in the labyrinth, where the sky is replaced by the vault of stone, one can wander endlessly until one realizes that he walks in a circle.


    Naar-Tam, as it turned out, did not know that labyrinths existed either.


    "Why build them at all? Couldn''t a straight path be built and all the rest be bricked up?"


    "There are often so many cracks under the ground that labyrinths form on their own," Mez''A''Shib explained. "But sometimes they were built on purpose. Why? Mostly for fun, betting on how long it would take to get out if you were completely unfamiliar with the construction. But then they found this fun too boring. And they began, for example, to launch several slaves into the labyrinth. Whoever got to the exit first would be free, and the rest would get a hundred lashes each."


    "They''re going to kill each other!" Tim exclaimed indignantly.


    "Quite right. In the more innocuous version, the slaves were unarmed and it was usually limited to bruises and broken jaws. If the onlookers wanted blood, the slaves got daggers or clubs, and not everyone survived. But who cares about the life of a slave? The organizers of spectacles make a very good profit, which pays for the slaves in full. There are also duels with beasts, and passing obstacle courses. For example, if you catch the rope stretched above the floor, an axe will fly into your back. Or a boulder will fall on your head."


    "Oh, we like to pull ropes, too!" Ri-Bo got excited. "But not with axes or boulders, just for fun. It''s fun to see an anzimar walk a path, sticking his nose up, and bam - face into the grass! The main thing is not to get caught later."


    "Any of us, whoever proposed such a labyrinth, would be banished for life," Naar-Tam snorted.


    "Alas, it is not uncommon to find those who publicly condemn vice and then quietly indulge in it with pleasure. Surely there are those of your people who would love to see the bloody spectacle."


    "I personally would not!"


    "It''s just that you''ve never tried it. What if you liked it?"


    "Never!"


    The discussion threatened to go on for a long time, so Tim had to intervene.


    "While we''re talking, time''s running out. And we still have to find a way out of here. Mez, you''re our biggest labyrinth expert, so you''re our only hope."


    "Traditional advice for those who don''t want to get lost is to keep to the left or right side all the time, and sooner or later you''ll get out. Although it will take you a long time. It is possible to try to rely on luck - sometimes it works. But seriously, it is better not to count on it. If others have been here before you, it is considered good form to leave notes that make the road easier. At least, that''s how it is with us."


    "Then let''s look for signs!"


    Luck smiled almost immediately: at the next fork Ri-Bo found an arrow pointing in the direction of one of the tunnels. The passage led them to a stairway up, which ended, however, with a tightly closed stone door - all their efforts were not enough to move it by even a centimeter.


    " I wish there was a lock, or even a keyhole, my gift is powerless here," Ri-Bo sighed.


    "Well, then that way is closed to us."


    "That''s where a person with overpowers would come in handy!"


    "Do you wish we had an anzimar in our team?"


    "Not at all," Ri-Bo backtracked.


    "Possibly, even Super-Strength couldn''t have helped us. There might be a pile of rocks on the other side and an avalanche would hit us if we opened the door."


    "So we go back and look for other signs."


    The next sign was a cross-crossed arrow that said ''Don''t go there''. It was pointing toward the widest tunnel - the most likely place they would have turned into.


    "I''d be very grateful to the author if he could explain why," Tim said wryly.


    "Let''s find out! Because if we''re careful, nothing will happen to us, right?" Ri-Bo was enthusiastic about the idea and Naar-Tam supported him.


    Tim was more inclined to listen to reason, especially since half the night would surely be over by now. Mez''A''Shib pondered for a while before he made up his mind.


    "Well, all right. I''ll take the lead and you follow. And keep your eyes open."


    Everyone agreed, following the drow in a chain. The tunnel was no different from the others, except that the floor was darker, more asphalt than stone. Tim was at first unconcerned, but when Ri-Bo grumbled that some idiot spilled jam on the floor (Naar-Tam was quick to agree) and realized that Mez''A''Shib was having more difficulty with each step he took, he was very worried. He bent down and touched the floor surface, which felt more like rubber than stone. Which was also getting warmer and warmer.


    Stolen story; please report.


    "It''s resin!" he cried out in fright. "Quickly get back, or we''ll be stuck!"


    Mez''A''Shib jumped in surprise. He landed up to his ankles. Fortunately Ri-Bo and Naar-Tam were with him, pulling him out of the trap with a jerk. And then they all ran together toward the tunnel exit, pulling their feet more and more forcefully away from the viscous black mass.


    "Now I know what the object was a little farther ahead," Mez''A''Shib spoke first as they relaxed, happy to be saved. "I spotted it a moment before you sounded the alarm. It was a boot half-buried in tar! I hope its owner made it out of there with only the loss of a shoe."


    "Yeah, if he managed to fall down and either crawl or roll over in the right direction."


    "Why?"


    "There seems to be such a way of escape."


    In fact, Tim just happened to remember a note he had once read on the Internet about how to behave when you are walking on thin ice and it starts to crack. It said to immediately fall on your back and try to crawl away. It was argued that in this case the weight of the person would be distributed over the area of the whole body, not just the feet, and the force per unit area would be much less. Probably so, but he did not want to check it on himself.


    "So, the pointer was right!" Ri-Bo said excitedly. "And I thought someone was joking!"


    "Next time, let''s not believe a sign like that unless there''s no other way," Mez''A''Shib chided him softly. "I was expecting a catch from the other side, so I didn''t see the danger. Only now I remember that in our part of the world, according to the tales of the dwarves, there are caves with lakes, where instead of water is a viscous hot liquid. You should never light a fire near such a lake: it will burn so badly that you won''t have time to run away."


    "Oil lakes, I''ve heard of them too," Tim nodded his head.


    "What about my torch?" Naar-Tam was genuinely surprised.


    "It will have to do without it. Well, at least it hasn''t come to that here."


    "Don''t worry, we can smell the oil on the way. It has a very strong and unmistakable scent."


    "Can it self-heat?"


    "Not usually."


    "So it''s magic! A magical trap!"


    "That''s what it looks like. What do we do now?"


    "We should leave our own marks!" Naar-Tam had a bright idea.


    "You should have done that from the start," Mez''A''Shib reassured him. "There''s no point now."


    "What if we split up? Then we could scout the tunnels a lot faster."


    "We''d end up losing each other. Or someone would be unlucky enough to fall into another trap and no one would be around. And then what?"


    "It makes sense," Naar-Tam said with a sigh.


    "But what do we do? How do we get out of here?" Ri-Bo was at a loss.


    "All right, I''ll use my intuition," the drow suggested. "But I''m going to need silence for a while."


    He sat down straight on the stone floor and closed his eyes. Tim, Ri-Bo and Naar-Tam settled silently around him.


    "This way," Mez''A''Shib announced firmly about a minute later. "There''s an air current through there (Tim didn''t feel anything, but any dungeon-dweller would have given him a head start on that) which meant it wasn''t a dead end."


    They went deeper into another tunnel, and soon Tim too caught a faint oncoming breeze. Its source, as it turned out, were small round openings through which one could see the sky. Right now, though, only a few stars could be seen; the rest was obscured by black and purple clouds. And you couldn''t poke your head outside: just like on the upper tiers, there were bars in these windows, too.


    "Eh, too bad we can''t come here during the day! Maybe we could see what''s down there," Ri-Bo regretted.


    "We''re still too high for that," Mez''A''Shib shrugged. "To tell you the truth, I don''t know how many tiers are below us. At least three."


    "I wish we had more time, maybe we''d get to the bottom one."


    The mention of time worried Tim. There were no circles of multicolored eyes here in the dungeon, and he could only wonder if it was half past midnight or not. Time always flowed wrong for some reason: too fast when there was not enough of it, and too slow when you were in anticipation of some pleasant event. And even if Tim had managed to bring his wristwatch with him, it would have been of little use - the duration of the day here is different from the earth one, and soon he would have been confused.


    Mez''A''Shib was also a little worried.


    "If we get out of the labyrinth, which I personally hope we do, let''s not experiment any more today."


    "What if we''ll meet a door with ''Minus the third tier'' written on it?" Ri-Bo asked slyly.


    "Then we''ll see what''s behind it, but that''s all. But I doubt very much that we''ll find it so quickly. Any mountain expands to its base, and the tiers must get bigger and bigger."


    And after admiring the stars once more, they continued on their way. After a while they saw two small caves, almost equal in size and facing each other.


    "Shall we look around?" Ri-Bo suggested cheerfully, and after some hesitation Mez''A''Shib agreed.


    "All right. To save time, I think we can split into groups of two here."


    So Tim and Naar-Tam took the cave on the left, and Ri-Bo and Mez''A''Shib took the cave on the right.


    There wasn''t much to see in the stone closet. Tim went over the gloomy stone walls and turned to the exit, but Naar-Tam stopped him. A small section of one of the walls protruded forward, just a little, not immediately noticeable. They grabbed the edges and, with some difficulty, pulled out the stone that covered the niche. Inside was a bundle, its outer shell decaying and crumbling to the touch. However, the inner cover was well preserved, and when they unpacked it, they saw a real treasure - a hundred colorful crystals, no less! And not trivial balls, but crystals of higher quality - tetrahedrons, octahedrons and cubes! And even a couple of icosahedrons!


    "Wow!" Naar-Tam was stunned to the core. "Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to put together such a collection! But why had he hidden it here?"


    "I suppose he was afraid it would be taken away," Tim suggested.


    He couldn''t add anything to this when he heard someone yell from a nearby cave.


    "Give it back! That''s my precious!"


    "No it isn''t, it''s mine now!"


    Tim and Naar-Tam dropped their find and hurried to their friends. They clutched at each other in a fierce struggle. Ri-Bo twisted and kicked Mez''A''Shib in the side. A blow to the solar plexus knocked the tilfing out, and the drow, breathing heavily, began to rub the bruise away.


    "Hey! Are you crazy?!" Tim was indignant.


    "I found the coin and he took it away!" Ri-Bo complained, struggling to get to his feet.


    "You didn''t have to brag about how lucky you were. And anyway, gold should belong to those who are stronger!" Mez''A''Shib grimly declared, displaying a coin that had turned green with age.


    "What gold? It is a rusted copper," Naar-Tam was astonished.


    The drow''s eyes brightened at that, no longer filled with greed and insanity.


    "It is not gold at all!" he exclaimed, tossing the coin to the ground. "And why did it seem gold to me? Where was my mind?"


    Ri-Bo stepped closer, squinting cautiously at the apple of discord.


    "Copper indeed! Was I really ready to stick my horns in my comrade''s belly for that?"


    "I would have broken your neck for it," Mez''A''Shib admitted. "What a blessing to have friends around! Forgive me, please, I''ve never meant you any harm."


    "Nor did I! I wish I hadn''t found that coin at all!"


    "I guess it was another magical trap," Tim remarked. "Strange that it didn''t work on us."


    "Fortunately, otherwise it would have ended very badly. How beguiling the luster of gold can be if it can blind and cloud the mind!"


    "What do you mean, Naar?"


    "In our lands, gold is not hard to find on the banks of dried-up rivers. It is considered a sacred metal, but it has no special value - every family has items made of it. But I heard that some people have a ''lust for gold'': they can go crazy when they see it. They will do anything to get their hands on a piece of yellow metal."


    "Before the anzimars came, none of our people had ever heard of gold," Ri-Bo said. "They like it a lot, but it''s not clear what they need it for. They don''t use it anywhere, they just keep it in iron boxes, tightly closed and well guarded. In exchange for it, they can give good things, and so many tilfings have caught gold fever. They search everywhere for gold, forgetting everything, even their own families!"


    Judging by the emotionality with which the last phrase was uttered, one of Ri-Bo''s relatives had caught it, too. Tim himself, even seeing a piece of gold, would have thought it was made of brass or bronze. But even knowing that it was a noble metal, it was unlikely that he would have been moved by the desire to have it. He and his mother had once gone into a jewelry store, and there were many interesting things there, but they didn''t impress Tim. Though if the thing had a charm on it, maybe he couldn''t resist, either.


    "This applies to us, drowes, no less," Mez''A''Shib grinned. "The more gold you have, the more weight you carry in the eyes of others. Even if you''re not a nobleman, your opinion will be taken into account. And if you are rich, even the members of the first Houses will not find it shameful to befriend you. Thus the gold mines of our dungeons are sources of constant conflict, not only between the drowes themselves but also with our neighbors - dwarves, kobolds, and subterranean goblins. But such a dangerous find must not be left here."


    "Are you suggesting we take it with us?"


    "Absolutely not! And since we can hardly take the spell off it, I suggest we destroy it."


    "But how?"


    "Throw it out the window! Wait for me here!"


    "That''s it," Mez''A''Shib said a few minutes later, shaking off his hands in a picturesque manner. "Let the wildlings fight over it now. If, of course, they know a lot about gold, which I personally very much doubt."


    "I hope that another treasure does not excite your base instincts," Naar-Tam said with a sly smile.


    "What other treasure?"


    "We found something better than your ''charms'' in the next cave."


    Fortunately, Mez''A''Shib and Ri-Bo didn''t fight over the right to possess the crystals when they saw them. But they were just as surprised.


    "It belongs to us now, doesn''t it?" Ri-Bo asked slyly.


    "Probably," Tim shrugged. "With us, if someone digs up pirate gold, he can take it for himself. No one would think of making a claim over the years."


    "The state of the wrappings suggests that no one''s looked at that cache in a hundred years or more," Mez''A''Shib commented. "Yes, I suppose we could be the new masters."


    "I can only imagine how envious our classmates will be!" Naar-Tam exclaimed merrily.


    Mez''A''Shib shook his head.


    "I wouldn''t recommend showing or telling anyone about it. Otherwise, there will be lots of people who want to take a piece for themselves. Not necessarily by brute force, but by pesky requests or even blackmail - because we''re not supposed to be here now, but in our beds, right? This concerns you in particular, Naar."


    "Why me?"


    "And who almost blabbed about our expedition? Then we''d have to fend off tearful girls'' requests to take them with us. On top of that, the whole class would know about it sometime later."


    "All right, I''ll try to keep my mouth shut," Naar-Tam agreed obediently, remembering how Tim had suffered as a result of Tiis-Mir''s chattiness.


    The others promised to do the same. But there was another problem: the bag could crumble at any moment, and there was almost no room left in their pockets.


    "Let''s pour water out of one of the flasks and put the crystals in it," Ri-Bo suggested.


    Mez''A''Shib was unenthusiastic.


    "It''s bad luck to get rid of water during a journey, and people have been known to wander through tunnels thirsty and curse their own thoughtlessness."


    "But we still have one more flask left!" Naar-Tam protested.


    "Well, it''s the only way," Mez''A''Shib waved his hand. "Any of you may drink as much as you can, and I''ll spill the rest on the floor."


    They all took turns taking a few sips, emptying only a third of the flask''s capacity. But it held all the crystals from the hiding place, and even emptied some of their pockets!


    "Now the main thing is to find the way back. What good is the treasure if we can''t use it?"


    So they went on their way. At the third fork Mez''A''Shib pointed to a crack at the top of the tunnel that resembled a zigzag of lightning.


    "Do you see it? We have been here before! I happened to notice it as we were walking by. I think I can get us all out of here now!"


    And indeed, they were soon upon a ledge from which they had to jump by touch. It was not difficult to climb up: someone had cleverly placed several blocks of stone on top of each other at the edge.


    Once in the hall of the first tier, Ri-Bo jumped on the slab of black granite again, and it creaked back into place, sealing the passage.


    "So that''s how it works!"


    The fire that had opened the door to the hall to them had already gone out (it would have been strange if it had kept burning, it wasn''t magical after all), but some of the embers were still smoldering, and so the door remained open. When Tim stomped them out, it fell back into place.


    "There''s some kind of magic here, after all," Mez''A''Shib said thoughtfully. "They must have gone out long before we came back. And then we''d have to figure out how to open the door from the inside. If we ever come here for a long time, someone would have to stay and watch the fire."


    Of course, none of them wanted to be on duty, but since it was destined to happen in the indefinite future, no one objected. They safely passed the fork with a signpost and the cave, where their names were now among others. The starfish trap was translucent; it would be invisible again soon, and then they would have to risk jumping where its rays were located. But why worry if it all worked out?


    Too soon, however, they rejoiced at the safe outcome of the affair. Because they were already waiting outside the door.

 Chapter 17.

    "Hmm," said Rugud, looking up at the confused faces of friends who didn''t expect to see anyone on their way out. "For some reason I thought so."


    His assistants nodded their heads in agreement.


    There was no point in running, no point in excusing themselves: the evidence was there. So Mez''A''Shib merely inquired in a colorless voice:


    "Will you take us to Pulsok?"


    "We''ll see," Rugud grinned into his beard. "A little conversation would be a good start. If you don''t mind."


    Of course, no one was foolish enough to refuse the storekeeper''s offer, so they followed the dwarves into one of the rooms next door. There they saw rows and rows of shelves piled high with bales and crates of all shapes and sizes. Tim wondered what they might have contained  - instead of titles there were incoherent combinations of letters and numbers like U2ZF54N. But asking the dwarves about it is not the right time.


    They rounded the racks and found themselves in the far corner of the room, where there was a massive squat table covered with a light gray tablecloth, and a few chairs around it.


    "Have a seat and make yourselves comfortable," Rugud pointed at them, and the friends took their seats at the table. "There''s no hurry, since the halls and staircases are permanently patrolled by the ghosts. Wasn''t that because of you? Don''t worry, the magic trap has not been disturbed or you wouldn''t be talking to us right now. Just Dobuzh, walking by, spotted a door ajar and a trap behind it, disarmed by someone, and called us. It was a long wait, though. It sounds like you had a lot of fun there."


    The friends were silent, not sure where the storekeeper was going with this.


    "Well, it doesn''t matter," Rugud went on as if nothing had happened. "I hope our conversation will prove fruitful; to our mutual benefit, of course. And to make it more intimate... Torun, would you be so kind as to make some tea, and Dobuzh, would you get the tea things out of the cupboard?"


    The two dwarf assistants bowed and went their separate ways. Ri-Bo broke the pause in the conversation.


    "What if the ghosts come straight here?"


    "I don''t think so," Rugud grinned again.


    "Are they really afraid of you?" Naar-Tam said with admiration.


    "No, they aren''t. No living creatures are dangerous to them. Only those who have mastered Exorcism."


    "But you people don''t do magic, do you? Or am I wrong?" Mez''A''Shib hesitated.


    "That''s what we are, we''re solid folk, we don''t like to pull any tricks. But I''ll let you in on a little secret. Since you are reliable boys..."


    "What makes you think that?!?"


    "It''s a sign of bad manners to interrupt your elders," the storekeeper said grumpily. "It''s very simple: someone, I won''t tell you who, has supplied you with the means to disarm the trap. Because you couldn''t have done it on your own. And if someone trusts you that much, there must be a reason for it. And he, believe me, knows who''s worth something. As you came in here, you might have noticed that the door jamb is lined with metal plates. And it''s not iron, it''s mithril. Ghosts don''t like it very much and try to stay away. Don''t you dare tear it off!" He gave Mez''A''Shib a stern warning, glaring at him.


    "I wouldn''t even dream of it!" The drow took umbrage.


    "All right, if that''s the case. Once we had a drow so sneaky that he managed to get pliers somewhere and began to wield them with all his might! Fortunately it was not so easy to do. He only had time to tear three plates off, and then was caught in the act."


    "What''s so valuable about it other than scaring away disembodied creatures?" Tim wondered. He had seen references to mithril in some fantasy authors. Naturally, it was not listed on the table of chemical elements.


    As it turned out, mithril is not a metal, but an alloy, the secret of which is owned by the dwarves of the clan Vurgdag, the best smiths of the dungeons of Galarud. Mithril armor is very light and strong, while the weapons are able to cut into pieces even a stone. Because of that, things made of it are so expensive that only the wealthy drowes can afford them. That''s why there are only two things made of mithril in Mez''A''Shib''s House: a ceremonial dagger hanging on the living room wall, and a badly shabby chainmail his grandfather wore when he was young (and no one''s bothered to have it repaired since). No wonder that guy had decided to steal it.


    But the main conclusion is that ghosts don''t seem to be liked by dwarves either, otherwise why such tricks? And if so, there are prospects for getting along with them. But first it must be found out why they suddenly have the honor of having tea together. There''s a reason for that!


    At this moment, Dobuzh appeared with a tray containing porcelain cups, saucers and silver spoons, followed by Torun and Kruda who were carrying a huge cast-iron kettle placed directly on the table. The last to arrive was Satre, who was in charge of the medical aid station.


    "Where are Wurrat and Lagur?"


    "Sleeping. They asked not to be disturbed," Torun reported grumpily.


    "Fine, we''ll do without them. By the way," Rugud said to the friends, "the kitchen magic works here, too. If you''re hungry after your adventure, you''re welcome. Don''t be shy, we''re all friends here. We''re of the same clan, we have no secrets from one another, and what we say can be kept secret."


    A little relieved after these words, Naar-Tam and Ri-Bo followed his advice. A plate of what looked like mashed potatoes (hot, of course) appeared before the peirot, a handful of nutfu nuts (similar in appearance to walnuts, but sweet in taste) - before the tilfing. Inner excitement did not leave Tim, so he refused to eat, only accepted with gratitude the cup of tea offered by Kruda. The tangy drink actually had little in common with the classic black tea (maybe, more like green tea, but at home Tim drank only black tea), rather just a herbal infusion. And the herbs used to make it not only imparted flavor and aroma to the drink, but had a number of other properties as well. After a few sips he felt dizzy, but then it was as crystal clear as if he had had a good night''s sleep. He was also no longer tired, and he felt as energetic as before the adventure. It would be nice to ask for the recipe, for such a tincture would do him good on Earth. Although it is unlikely that he could find the ingredients in his homeland, they must be alien!


    Mez''A''Shib was in no hurry to use his kitchen magic, either: with his head bowed to the side, he listened to something. Or was he simply pondering something important, like what price the dwarves would charge for their friendliness? The unselfishness of their intentions was hard to believe. Perhaps they would have to share the crystals, the only treasure they possessed. But better to sacrifice some of it than to go to the goblin for interrogation.


    Ri-Bo, who had had two cups of the wonderful drink, became so bold that he asked if the dwarves themselves had been to the lower tiers.


    "Unfortunately, no," Rugud shook his head. "We''re forbidden to look in there, too, and it''s a much stricter prohibition - if you get away with lockup and community service, we''ll simply be fired without severance pay. Even if only one of us goes in there, we''ll all be punished. And we are, after all, reputable dwarves, we observe the order and laws rigorously. Otherwise, who''d be dealing with the Festrok clan? We''re strict about this: if you break the rules, you''re better off leaving the clan. And other clans don''t like to take in outcasts. But since we''re not contractually obligated to catch those who break the discipline, we can do as we please. It''s more interesting to hear the stories of those who were lucky enough to stroll through the lower tiers and come back without being caught. As I understand it, you managed to solve the riddle of the fire."


    "Of course it is!" Ri-Bo smiled broadly. "We''re not stupid at all!"


    Tim was modestly silent.


    "I see," Rugud grinned. "Not everyone could do it, as far as I know."


    "And where did the less smart ones go?"


    "Well. If you keep interrupting me continuously, you''ll go to Pulsok with a note that says you didn''t just try to break into the dungeon, you also resisted arrest. And ask for a harsher punishment in it (Ri-Bo immediately promised to keep quiet like a fish). No such wish, then? That''s fine. If you passed a fork in the road, you should have seen other ways.  Those who hoped for strength had to open iron doors and clear the way, rolling aside huge boulders. Which, a short time later, would fall back into place. It''s hard even for orcs, not to mention various weaklings (Ri-Bo gave an offended look, though the dwarf didn''t even look at him). But it wasn''t easy on those who took the route of nimbleness, either. First there were potholes and gaps in the floor you could easily trip over. And then rope bridges suspended over the precipice, and you have to walk on slippery wooden planks, or stone stairs around the precipices, where some of the steps are destroyed and you have to jump, risking to fall down. Not everyone, alas, was destined to conquer them."


    "Do you remember that poor lycos boy?" Torun clarified.


    "Yes, him. He thought as a beast he''d be able to get past the obstacles easily. But one of the stairs was too delicate."


    There was a moment of grievous silence at the table. Naar-Tam was the first to break it.


    "We found someone''s wand down there. Could you tell me whose it was?"


    Ri-Bo had to show what he''d found. Frowned Rugud twirled it in his hands.


    Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    "Stars in swirls? A familiar design. Belong to that elf boy... unfortunately, I can''t remember his name. Dobuzh, maybe you have a better memory."


    The dwarf assistant, dressed in a blue coat, looked closely at the wand.


    "Kiryerin, no one else. He once came running to ask for a new wand, saying he''d dropped his off the balcony by accident. And it flew off into the jungle, where it was impossible to get it back from. That was where he''d really lost it!"


    Tim sighed in relief. So the boy had escaped the death trap after all. He must have been so frightened when he saw himself at the very edge of the cliff that decided not to go back for the wand.


    "Is it going to the storehouse now?" Ri-Bo asked disappointedly.


    "Of course it is. Where else would it go? I can guess you''d like to keep it. But, believe me, a wizard with two wands is as absurd as a shoemaker with two pairs of shoes on his feet. Is there any point, once you''ve found what you need, in looking for anything else?"


    Do not seek good from good, Tim smiled to himself. And there seems to be another saying that the best is the enemy of the good.


    "Moreover," Torun coughed into his fist, "there is a theory among the Great Wizards that if two wands are held by the same master, they are bound to clash and prevent each other from doing magic."


    "Therefore, even though this theory has no experimental evidence, it is better to let the wand stay with us," Rugud said. "If any of you should happen to lose yours, you can have it back. There will be no punishment."


    "Thank you, we''ll keep that in mind," Mez''A''Shib thanked him politely.


    "So, to the minus first tier you have reached (Naar-Tam and Tim nodded). You must have seen statues of strange creatures there (nods of agreement again). They are the geerkhs, the original inhabitants of Jelshakh. They were skilled builders, and in some ways even surpassed us, dwarves. Sadly, they''re no longer here."


    "But what happened to them?" Ri-Bo exclaimed impatiently. Fortunately, no one sent him to Pulsok, and there was no admonition.


    "Who knows? They were gone long before we got here. The local sorcerers don''t seem to have been bothered by it: the geerkhs have no magic, and after the school was built, there was no particular need for their services. As far as we know, they lived on the lower tiers for a while, and then they left. History does not say why, and there is no record of it in the archives of the local book archive. Perhaps not all magical experiments were to their liking. We, however, are interested in something else: it is unlikely that they took with them all their secrets, something must have remained. If you happen to find any manuscripts or blueprints while wandering around the lower tiers, bring them here. Miniature devices of obscure purpose are also welcome."


    "Of course!"


    "And from now on, I recommend that at least one of you carry a stylus and write paper with him. What if something interesting is represented by a text or a drawing on the wall? Just don''t think about copying the writings of your predecessors. There''s plenty of that stuff here too!"


    So that''s why they gave us a warm reception instead of simply turning us into the administration. Mez''A''Shib made Tim''s thought in a milder tone:


    "I suppose that''s what you''d expect from us in exchange for a friendly treatment."


    "Quite right. The knowledge of the geerkhs is of no value to you, young wizards, but it is very important to our people. Alas, you must go deeper, to the minus second tier, or even lower, to retrieve it."


    "We''ve been there, too!" Ri-Bo boasted.


    "Really? Did you even make it to the Mirror?"


    "What Mirror?"


    "Yes, there is one," Rugud said without going into detail. "It seems to be an ordinary looking mirror, but sometimes you can see in it things that are long gone. Or sometimes even events that have yet to happen. It''s also said that if you stare into it for too long, you risk losing yourself. And that its surface is a door to the astral worlds, and that those skilled in the art of spiritualism may venture there. But to do so without proper training is deadly dangerous! So the best thing for you is simply to avoid it. I take it you haven''t reached it yet, so my warning is not too late."


    "We got lost in the labyrinth," Tim admitted.


    "Which starts just past the entrance to the minus second tier? Of course we know about it. So you were able to defeat the Horror Generator after all? You didn''t even poop your pants? Well done! By the way, we have a map of the labyrinth somewhere. Teitri did the work on it at one time. Too bad the kid was in such a hurry to get home, so at some point he decided to quit the adventure and concentrate on his studies. That''s the right thing to do, of course, and that''s why you were invited here. But his desire to map the entire dungeon remained, alas, unrealized."


    "What''s the problem? We''ll do it!" Naar-Tam exclaimed cheerfully.


    "But it will take time," Mez''A''Shib added cautiously. "And perhaps some equipment which is not part of the standard apprentice kit."


    The dwarves looked at each other.


    "We''ll provide you with some things that will be useful in your adventures," Rugud agreed in the end. "But, you see, it''s not advisable to walk around the school with them. You can hide them somewhere on the minus first tier and use them as you go."


    "We may need an oil lamp," Tim suggested.


    "That''s a sensible idea. It''s rumored to be much darker on the lowest tiers than here. And there are tunnels where magic doesn''t work. Maybe your fellow drow could get you through them, but if anything happened to him, you''d never get back."


    Tim mentally agreed - it''s not nice to be dependent on someone, even if it''s your friend.


    "We could also use a mag-detector," Naar-Tam added cheerfully.


    "Well, that''s too much for you already. Only Masters are allowed to use such things. If one of you is found in possession of such a thing, everything is gone. A lot of people will be interrogated, including us. And if you''re under the influence of True Speech, you won''t want to, but you''ll tell them everything!"


    We are also in need of magic protection amulets, Tim thought. Or any other things capable of reflecting or absorbing magical influence directed toward you. And again - you cannot show them to anyone in order to avoid unnecessary questions, and you have to wear them all the time because you never know when they will be useful. How complicated everything is!


    "So we wouldn''t take it out of the dungeon!"


    A threefold knock on the door interrupted the conversation. The friends were frightened - what if they had to hide under the table? But the dwarves remained calm.


    "Only our own people knock like that. Kruda, open the door, please."


    Two dwarves arrived, who at first asked not to be disturbed, Tim thought, but was mistaken - it was a kobold!


    "Yep. Somehow I''m not at all surprised to see your foursome here. And a special thanks to you, Rugud, for harboring these malicious troublemakers. I don''t think they''d be back in their quarters before morning. Too many of the disembodied creatures are roaming back and forth; they even tried to follow me."


    "I wonder if they aren''t at the lower tiers," Mez''A''Shib shrugged.


    "Pulsok does not imagine that anyone would dare to break into the dungeon, just before he gets to the school. But sooner or later he will realize his mistake. In the meantime, the main search goes on in the woods. But in any case, I wouldn''t advise you to get out of here before the green eye lights up."


    "So we''ve decided to let them stay with us for a while," Rugud grinned. "Sit down, too, Tullum, there is no truth in feet."


    Kobold wasn''t twice persuaded, so he pulled a nearby chair toward him and gratefully accepted a cup of tea.


    "Well, tell me, how was your trip? What did you see, where did you have a chance to look?"


    "We should pay you first, Master Tullum," Mez''A''Shib gently offered as he poured the contents of the flask on the table. "Take as much as you need. I hope it''s enough."


    Even the dwarves, renowned for their equanimity, could not contain their emotions. Kobold was astonished to the core.


    "Wow! So much to collect in just a couple of hours! Luck was clearly on your side today. If you can keep it up, you''ll be the most remarkable students the school has ever produced!"


    "Actually, we found someone else''s stash," Tim confessed.


    "It makes no difference; if it hadn''t been for luck, you would have passed by and never noticed it. But be careful from now on, for such hiding places are often enchanted."


    "Then we''ll need a mag-detector all the more."


    "I''m guessing our esteemed storekeeper has already given you a dozen reasons why students aren''t allowed to possess such things. But without it, it would be much harder to get into the lower tiers. Speaking of which, I have an idea how to get a mag-detector by-pass. We''ll think it over later, Rugud. For now..."


    From the pile of the crystals that littered the center of the table, he picked a couple dozen, mostly cubes and octahedrons.


    "The rest are your rightful trophy. Just do not get carried away, use them wisely!"


    "Master Aerg said something like that, but he didn''t explain why," the boys complained.


    "Very simple: have you ever tried pouring an entire bucket of water into a tea cup? No? But I don''t think it''s hard to predict the result. The cup will hold exactly as much water as it can hold. The rest will be on the table and under the table. That''s about the same thing that will happen if you try to absorb more mana than you can hold. At best, the excess will disperse into space and condense some time later, forming new crystals. At worst, the excess spontaneously transforms into some kind of magic, usually Elemental magic. For example, your clothes might burst into flames. Or everything around you will be covered in frost. Or you''ll get knocked off your feet by a sudden hurricane. The more excess mana you absorbed, the more catastrophic the consequences would be. And some people would be very badly hurt. Satre could easily recall a dozen cases in which she had had her patients who were ambitious to get it all at once, with little effort. Take, for example, the story that happened a dozen years ago to one of the Anzimar boys..."


    "You mean Dgirtur? Yes, I had to work hard to heal a lot of sores all over his body. It was the effects of the Acid Splash what the excess mana had transformed into. His clothes had become rags, but what upset him most was his ruined hair - it had become sparse."


    "Oh yes, curls are a source of great pride to every anzimar!" Ri-Bo said with undisguised sarcasm.


    "I had to cut it bald by hand," Satre went on. "The skin-removing elixir (my invention, the kobold winked) frightened Dgirtur even more than the acid."


    "And then he wore a headscarf," Dobuzh added in a tone that sounded like it was the height of indecency for dwarves to wear such a headdress.


    Ri-Bo, judging by his sly smile, was busy working out the idea of a magical attack on his golden-haired classmates'' hair. It should warn them to be careful - they''d probably guess where the wind was blowing from. However, the continuation of the conversation distracted from that thought.


    "We shall have to look into the dungeon more than once to retrieve the geerkhs'' legacy, and trap neutralization potions will be needed again," said Mez''A''Shib, turning to the kobold. "So please take the fee for them up front."


    "All right, I will not refuse," the head of the alchemical laboratory grinned and took a few more crystals for himself. "I''ll make you a deal: you inform me or Rugud when your next quest begins. You were lucky today, but it won''t always be like this. And I''m afraid that the first unsuccessful event will be your last, as has happened more than once."


    "We don''t want to get caught either!" Naar-Tam confirmed cheerfully.


    "If you are careful, you can solve many of the mysteries here. Trust only those in whom you are sure as yourself. Remember - a false friend is more dangerous than an open enemy. In general, everything is in your hands! And now, let me say goodbye: business cannot wait. Thank you for the refreshment. By the way, where is the box with the new equipment for the laboratory?"


    "Over there, on the third shelf of the seventh rack. Torun, please show it."


    The box was quite weighty, and kobold hardly lifted it.


    "May I help you carry it?" Tim jumped up.


    "Absolutely not! You mustn''t go in the tunnels until morning," Rugud reasoned. "Torun will help."


    The green-coated dwarf bowed with dignity and then went away with the kobold carrying the box by two.


    Tim furtively glanced at the local circle of eyes. The rifle-green was beginning to give way to green, so it wouldn''t be long now. If someone had told him a few weeks ago that he would be having tea with dwarves and friends from planets that wouldn''t be discovered by astronomers even in a thousand years, he would have laughed in the joker''s face. But now he was so used to it that he took it for granted. The only thing that bothered him was that it was too smooth in the end. Everything seemed to make sense: we for you and you for us, but the suspicion did not leave him that the dog was buried in some other place, and the crystals and the knowledge of an unknown race was only a distraction. There is something of far greater value in the dungeon, and it is this that the kobold and the dwarves want to get. But they don''t want to risk it themselves.


    Mez''A''Shib''s offer to taste his people''s specialty, amlibahi baked in vanilla syrup, distracted Tim from his thoughts.

 Chapter 18.

    This time Khalid-amga not only recognized Tim, but also realized why he had come to the library.


    "Yes, I remember. I managed to find something. Not much, alas. I had to serve your fellows, too. But even without them, it would take an entire year to go through so much literature!"


    "But that''s what catalogs are for!"


    "Don''t think we librarians are stupider than we are!" the old man got a little offended. "Of course, the first thing I looked into was them. But there''s no mention of humans in any of the sections! Reference books and encyclopedias were useless, too. I had to look through the books by hand. You know, it was hard work!"


    "It''s as if someone deliberately destroyed any mention of us," Tim said thoughtfully, remembering a couple of detective stories.


    "Is it possible to destroy books?" Khalid-amga was horrified. "No librarian would agree to that!"


    "Well, it''s not necessary to burn them or dissolve them in acid. One could simply remove them from the library and bury them somewhere."


    "But why? Books are written for the purpose of being read, not hidden! Yes, there are manuscripts which contain dangerous knowledge, and they can be given to apprentices only with the permission of one of the Masters. They are kept apart from the others. Maybe that is where the truth is hidden? I''ll certainly look into them, but you''ll have to enlist the support of one of the teachers."


    That''s easy to say. Asking to be a teacher''s favorite, you risk ruining your relationship with your classmates. In addition, it''s not so easy to meet one of the Masters on "neutral ground". But even if such a miracle happened, would they want to help? Another controversial question, depending largely on the circumstances.


    "It is probably better to limit ourselves to those books that do not require anyone''s permission. After all, if we find an answer in them, then there will be no need to look through forbidden literature at all."


    "Good words!" The librarian was delighted. "Indeed, why call upon mighty powers when you can do with little? I''ll leave the manuscripts from the special list at a later date, but I''ll continue through the general literature. Drop by the library more often, and I''ll try to find something else for the next time!"


    "Thank you very much, Khalid-amga. And I also would like to ask this: have any of the authors taken on the task of compiling an Annals of the Jelshakh School of Sorcery?"


    The question made the librarian think a little.


    "Do you mean a chronology or something else? I''m afraid to disappoint you: officially, no one has done a history of the school. There''s only a list of the Principals who have run the school since Naergin''s time, and a brief biography of each of them. Some former pupils of the school sometimes have memories of their school years, but they are of little historical value. So I would risk to ask: are you interested in it just for the sake of curiosity, or do you want to know something particular?"


    "Oh, I just happened to be talking to some dwarves the day before and they mentioned something about the geerkhs digging all the tunnels here and actually rebuilding the school as it is. And who were they, these geerkhs?"


    Again the librarian didn''t answer right away.


    "Yes, indeed, a couple of years ago, Rugud approached me with a similar question. Alas, I couldn''t find anything to interest him. Other than a description of their appearance and lifestyle made by one of the teachers back in the early days of the school, there was no other mention. Why they are not with us is a mystery to me as well. It is very sad, perhaps communicating with them would teach us a lot!"


    "What if they simply moved elsewhere?"


    "It is unlikely: the world where we are is a giant ocean, and besides our island, there is no other land there. Except for the reefs and shoals, which are unfit for life. Of course, if the geerkhs are amphibians, that wouldn''t be much of a problem for them," added the old man diplomatically.


    What amphibians were, Tim didn''t know, but he didn''t specify. Instead, he took the books he had set aside for him (as well as the books on Twilight and Mind magic that Khalid-amga had recommended), and hurried to his room.


    There were three books. The first was essentially a rolled up roll of heavy paper, about five meters long, with writing on one side. The paper was yellowed with time, but it was still strong enough not to crumble to dust when Tim touched it (it must have been impregnated with something or strengthened magically). It was the work of Mapetzi, entitled ''The Dark Side of Druidism'', which described his visit to a laboratory on the island of Crete. The wizards there were eager to demonstrate the monsters they had created, and there were illustrations in the style of medieval engravings. Not without surprise Tim recognized in them creatures that were familiar to him from literature. Minotaurs, centaurs, harpies, sirens - exactly as the ancient Greeks had imagined them to be! So that was where they came from in the myths! There were monsters, too, whose names Tim did not know, and outright freaks, in which there was almost nothing human left.The sorcerers who created them, in addition to their purely ''scientific'' interest, had a very practical purpose - anyone who had enough money to buy monsters could do so. Their high cost was due to their high efficiency on the battlefield: just one minotaur could playfully fight a dozen ''ordinary'' fighters, even knowing which end to take up a sword or a spear from, while a dozen sirens could easily demoralize and put an entire army on the run. Considering that wars at that time were almost nonstop, the sorcerers did not suffer from the lack of orders. However, neither methods of breeding chimeras nor appropriate formulas were given. On the other hand, if they had been, this work would have fallen into the category of forbidden. And not all of the Masters would have allowed him to read it.


    The second book consisted of several sheets of parchment stapled together. It told of a delegation of elves visiting the court of King Alfred the Great of Saxony and presenting His Majesty with a herd of unicorns. Apparently, they were planned to be used in war with the Danes, because unicorns'' fighting qualities are much better than those of horses. Alas, they were not destined to prove themselves on the battlefield: absent-mindedly or with malice, the corral with them was not locked at night, and the unicorns scattered all around. Only a few of them could be caught and brought back; the rest could not survive in too severe conditions for them or became the prey of hunters who at any cost wanted to decorate their trophy collection with the horn. The most beautiful unicorn was a gift for the king''s daughter, the young princess Aethelflaed; it had a skittish disposition and would not let anyone but its mistress come near it.


    The questions that were of interest to Tim were not answered here, too, but some food for thought nevertheless appeared. It turns out that in ancient times not only mighty wizards lived on Earth, but there were portals that connected the planet with other worlds. Where did it all go, left only in myths and legends? It is not by chance that in the tales of many peoples of the world the dragons are present - but how can they appear there, if pterodactyls died out long before the appearance of people, and modern us snakes and lizards simply cannot fly? Birds bigger than eagles are hard to find (ostriches don''t count, they can''t fly either), and dragons don''t look like birds. Certainly, the human imagination can create anything, but aren''t the fantasies of people who lived thousands of kilometers away from each other too homogenous? The only explanation was that they had actually seen dragons! There may well have been portals that connected the Earth not only to Gallara (as Tim called the planet shared by elves, orcs, and dwarves for the sake of simplicity), but also to the homeland of the gaarshes.


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The third book was more informative - the travel notes of Maelg, who had traveled between worlds for thousands of years and wrote down everything that seemed interesting to him. At first Tim thought that Khalid-amga had given them to him by mistake - what could phrases like ''Naeteki''s experience was not successful, too much tianma and too little kohi, the decision to take civisp instead of entuari was a mistake'' or ''Drabagr, a sinister artifact created by Giat-Dae, has been stolen from the tomb of Omturmorn, and the shadow of the Barbed Death looms over Escarfa once more'' have to do with his interest? Only after he was almost halfway through what had been written, he realized that Terra, sporadically referred to here and there, was the Earth! It was no longer difficult to fish out the necessary information from the text; Tim was not too lazy to transfer the most interesting notes to his grimoire, placing them in chronological order.


    Record #1. ''The pyramids, which became the tombs for the pharaohs Khufu, Khafra and Menkaur, are simply magnificent; they will stand for thousands of years, and time will prove powerless before them.  The idea to use stone golems for the erection of monumental buildings in general is not new, but I have never seen such grandiose monuments of architecture. I have only one regret, that nobody will know who really erect them, because all the glory of the builders the pharaohs attributed to themselves''.


    Record #2. ''Having learned the secrets of dark magic, Pharaoh Jehutimesu the Third created a truly invincible armada of the undead and with its help brought all neighboring states into submission. Enemies fled as soon as they saw undead who did not know fatigue and fear; those who dared to fight eventually joined the ranks of the victorious army - even if they had not wished to do so in life. But, as it happens in cases like this, the creation did not outlive its creator for long: with the death of Pharaoh the spells gradually dissipated and the dead returned to their graves''.


    Record #3. ''My old friend Didiohoors, with whom I once traveled all over Irmigia in search of an ankhark, persuaded me to visit Terra again, to see the Hanging Gardens of Babilim, whose splendor even elves would have envied. Sadly, we were a century too late: without proper supervision the water elementals stopped supplying moisture to the plant roots, and the plants gradually withered away. The wizard, who was appointed to look after the elements, should be deprived of his witchcraft power for negligence. And why were the others silent when they saw the beauty perish before their eyes''.


    Record #4. ''I wasn''t planning on going anywhere in the near future, but I was too excited by a rumor that a certain sage on Terra had managed to construct the Eye of the Coming, an artifact that gives you the ability to look through time and see events that have yet to happen. Alas, I was too late again - when I finally reached Terra, the artifact no longer existed, and the sage himself had been crucified. A truly horrible death! As it turned out, Emperor Augustus himself wished to know what the future held for Great Rome. The eye showed him the smoking ruins of formerly flourishing cities and countless hordes of flat-faced, narrow-eyed horsemen, rushing at full gallop from the rising sun. The vision displeased the emperor so much that he ordered the artifact to be destroyed and its creator subjected to a painful execution. Both his house and laboratory were brutally razed to the ground - nothing survived inside, and now hardly anyone can say how the Eye was created''.


    Record #5. ''Together with a caravan of wandering dwarf merchants I visited Constantinople. The Byzantine basileus purchased from them several sets of mithril armor for his personal guard, paying generously for them in gold. I was honored to have a very informative conversation with Ignatius, the court chronicler - it''s always nice to talk with an intelligent man. In the end, Ignatius handed me a stack of manuscripts with descriptions of the magical rituals of the peoples of Terra, and asked me to pass them on "to where science and knowledge are valued". It was the little that could be salvaged from the Library of Alexandria, which had been destroyed by religious fanatics. Fanaticism in general is a terrible thing, and religious fanaticism doubly so, for it does not listen to the voice of reason, being guided only by blind faith in the rightness of the dogmas enunciated by the founders and ministers of the cult. And it would not be a great misfortune if they were good and righteous, but even among them, alas, there are many money-grabbers, power-hungry men, and those whose mental health is highly questionable. Ignatius feared that in Constantinople, where the basileus is unpredictable in his aspirations and the influence of the Church is very strong, he would not be able to preserve the manuscripts and the ancient knowledge would be lost forever. I handed over the manuscripts to the ngwares, who promised not only to preserve them, but also to make copies for all who would be interested in the wisdom of Terra''.


    Record #6. ''I was invited to see a knight''s tournament, for what occasion, I don''t remember exactly - most likely, the coronation of one of the local kings. It was an impressive sight, though the entertainment in the courts of the elvish monarchs is much more refined and less primitive. I met Higar, the head of the German Wizards Guild. According to him, the sorcerers are very uneasy: their spells are getting weaker and weaker, and it''s getting harder and harder to cast them. No one knows what causes this, and no one has yet been able to find and eliminate the cause. The Church takes advantage of this and more and more often grabs those who can no longer defend themselves and sends them straight to the stake. If this keeps up, Higar sighed, they''ll all have to go into hiding. Or find a place where they could live in peace and continue with their craft. Since I''d never heard of such a plague before, I could only wish them luck. But perhaps on Gallaeri or Penmayor they can understand what had happened here, and help the wizards of Terra''.


    Record #7. ''After reporting what had happened to the council of the sages of Enyroid, I considered my mission accomplished. Only a few centuries later, I remembered Terra, determined to visit it. What I saw confirmed the worst of my fears: the horrible buildings, the black smoke, the hideous iron wagons that terrified passersby, and those who didn''t make way for them would die under their wheels. And worst of all, there was no trace of magic anywhere! The wizards whose names were known to local residents turned out to be simple fraudsters who fooled an undemanding public with tricks. The portal I came through was still active, though the magic that supported it had weakened considerably. This must be my last visit to Terra - when the portal closes, no one else will be able to visit the planet. Could it be that Betsagoni''s curse has come true? I once heard from Fehrigit of a world whose inhabitants were fond of constructing machines, putting the heaviest and dirtiest work upon them, while they themselves plunged into the self-contemplation and the pursuit of exquisite pleasures. And gradually they became slaves of metal monsters, who eventually relocated their creators to reservations where they had everything to satisfy their bodies'' needs but were deprived of books and teachers. And as a result, they became like cattle, used to living in pens and stables, unaware of their fate. Could this be the fate of Terra? It''s a pity...''


    There was no further mention of Terra. But it was clear enough that when the portals finally failed, the Earth was cut off from the community of magical worlds. So the wizards had never been able to sort out what had happened! Probably because of that, earthlings had ceased to be invited to the school - what was the point if they could not even conjure properly afterwards? But then why did they suddenly choose him? He wasn''t even innately gifted. In general, the further into the wood, the thicker the trees - as soon as you find an answer to a question, two new ones appear. And what is the essence of the Betsagoni''s curse? The author of the notes did not bother to explain, as if everyone around knows who Betsagoni is, whom and why he cursed! Ah yes, the traveler was writing for himself, compiling a kind of travel notes. Whoever took them to the library should make appropriate clarifications - it wasn''t just the Wizards who wanted to know about the sights of other worlds!


    But how many of them there are! And to move from one to another it is enough just to step into the portal. You don''t need any spaceships that might take hundreds of years to reach your aim. What''s the point of flying if only your distant descendants will arrive (if at all) at their destination? Magic has its advantages, after all!


    So Tim was determined that when he would graduate from  school, he would definitely become a traveler! And at the same time he will figure out what happened on Earth. The first thing to do is to find out the essence of that curse and how to get rid of it. He must find the answer in the library! In principle, why drag the cat by the tail, why not go there right now? But first it would be a good idea to visit the toilet.

 Chapter 19.

    Tim was barely out of the toilet when Selkise appeared in the tunnel, walking toward him.


    "Hey! Did you have a nice walk down the lower levels?"


    "Oh... how did you know that?!?"


    "So you''ve given yourself away," the yusme grinned. "Where else could your three have disappeared all night? The ghosts were up and down like crazy till morning. But don''t worry, I won''t tell anyone."


    "I don''t have to worry," Tim scowled, hurt that he was so easily provoked. "Try to tell anyone!"


    "And then what would happen?" Selkise asked slyly.


    You wouldn''t punch a girl in the face!


    "I''ll stop talking to you. And then you''d better stay away from me!"


    "Do you think your secret will remain for long? If I figured it out, why can''t others do the same?"


    "We''ll think of something, you''ll see!"


    "Well, well, well. You''ll either blab it yourself, or you''ll tell it when they get hold of you hard enough. It doesn''t have to be all at once, just one to start with, and he''ll tell you about the others."


    "There are no traitors among us!"


    "How stupid you are," said Selkise, sighing. "Even if you can stand physical pain, which I doubt, the spell of True Speech will unleash your tongue against your will."


    So we need rings and amulets that give protection from the magic of the Mind, Tim thought. And he immediately reminded himself that he thinks by the criteria of earthly computer games, and here it''s completely different! Although it''s hard to think of anything more practical; with enchanted gloves or boots it''s much harder, plus you can''t wear more than one pair. And you can decorate all your fingers with rings, even two or three on each! To enhance the effect, of course. As far as he had noticed, teachers also wore rings, and it was unlikely solely out of a desire to show off in front of the colleagues. After all, he himself now had a ring on his finger! Fortunately not an engagement ring, which Tim did not plan to get for the next decade. But he wouldn''t refuse magical accessories even now.


    "I bet it won''t happen, huh?"


    "You''ve got a lot of courage and self-confidence, but your intelligence seems to have been damaged at birth. Well, don''t be offended. Why don''t you tell me what''s in the dungeon?"


    Tim was actually about to get angry at the quip about his lack of intelligence and even to say something very hurtful out loud. But the last phrase seemed to let the steam out of him. And suddenly, even to himself, he began to vividly describe their night''s adventure.


    "The dungeon is cool! Right at the door, there''s a wall with names on it, and you can leave your autograph there as a memento. And to get to the minus the first tier, you have to light a fire. There''s a huge room with statues of creatures that look like spiders (judging by the slightly puzzled look on her face, Selkise didn''t have the faintest idea what spiders look like). Well, anyway, they''re multi-armed and furry and generally cool! There is speculation (Tim prudently did not mention the dwarves), that they tunneled into the mountain and built a school. We were also almost thrown off by an evil spirit, howling pitifully and calling for help, but we didn''t give in! Otherwise we would have fallen into the abyss! And to get to the minus the second tier, we had to overcome the Horror Sphere. I did it first!"


    "You''re a real hero!" Selkise said admiringly.


    "I was actually scared," Tim admitted, not detecting the irony in her voice, "but I got over it. You just have to imagine that the fear is illusory, and that nothing will really happen to you. To be honest, it didn''t work the first time, only when I realized that it was an effect of magic, not a real nightmare. But, as it turned out, behind it was the entrance to the minus second tier!"


    "Oh, yeah?"


    "That''s right. But to get in, there was one more thing you had to get past - the veil of total darkness. It''s not dangerous on its own, but there''s a precipice right behind it. You have to move very carefully not to fall down. And then the labyrinth begins in which we got lost. But we found our way back!"


    "Of course, otherwise we wouldn''t be talking right now. Well, you''ll tell me more later, Jaamite is waiting for me to visit. See you later!"


    And she left. Tim looked after her silently for a while, and then cursed his own chattering tongue with the last words. No one was pulling at it, so why did it suddenly get untied in front of that blue-skinned girl? It was as if she''d worked her magic to dispel his incredulity. She didn''t seem to be working magic on him, but how will you know for sure? Worst of all, it was not his personal secret, and he was obliged to keep it, not trusting anyone, especially girls! Now she''s going to go and tell her mates everything! And then Sir Pulsok will show up, asking him to make a confession. Or, in case of refusal, to test the power of the magic of Mind. And in the part of it where there is no mention of illusion or telekinesis, but only the magic of obedience and compulsion. I must warn my friends immediately and decide together what to do about the situation, Tim thought.


    Naar-Tam was the only one in their neighborhood who was there. He didn''t know where Ri-Bo had gone.


    "I seemed to have seen him recently... he must have gone to the dining room! What happened?"


    "I''ll explain when we get together. But it is better not to delay."


    "Then let''s go and see Mez''A''Shib!"


    Their drow friend lived in Room 49, and his roommates included Ivliar, Gillmir (fortunately not as intolerant of his dark kin as the other elves), Patpako, and Shugiz. According to Mez''A''Shib, there were no problems with any of them, only minor misunderstandings at first, quite natural when representatives of different civilizations come into contact. The most unproblematic was Patpako, who was very indifferent and, uncommonly even for the yusmes, absent-minded. He was the one who was constantly late and forgot his things, who had returned his grimoire three times and his wand twice, and who had been advised to tie them to his belt with a rope and drag them everywhere he went. It was he who Tim and Naar-Tam met as they turned the tunnel they wanted, but the yusme only nodded his head in greeting, showing no interest in who our friends were headed for.


    They had to wait in the corridor; Mez''A''Shib was meditating and did not immediately hear a knock on the door. Tim, who was visiting him for the first time, was a little surprised to find several flowerpots on the windowsill (which on closer inspection were homemade, but rather elaborately made), and the plants in them had been ''borrowed'' from the flowerbeds.


    "For drowes flowers are a luxury and not everyone can afford them," Mez''A''Shib explained. "Especially not the pretty ones. Some of the elves know how to make pots, and most of my light kin have flowerbeds of their own. I decided to keep up, and traded a few of them. The elves wrinkle their noses at the drowes, but they do not averse to crystals. I could buy a whole greenhouse for my share of the underground riches, but it was better to keep a low profile. Otherwise, they''d wonder where I''d gotten so much."


    The treasure they had collected during their nightly adventure they divided among themselves. And they agreed, even in pain of being expelled from school, not to show it to anyone. What to do with the crystals, to ''eat'' them quietly or exchange for something equally valuable, everyone decided for himself.


    "Take what you like, and I''ll trade with the elves for more," offered Mez''A''Shib graciously.


    It would be nice to decorate the room with at least a few flora representatives, Tim thought, since posters were clearly in short supply here. But not right now.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    "Thanks, but we have a little problem to discuss first, and it concerns all of us."


    "Speak then! Or, if it''s going to be a long talk, have a seat on the bed. Why didn''t you bring Ri-Bo with you?"


    "He wasn''t in place. Presumably he went to the dining room."


    "It''s not a bad idea - we''ll have a bite to eat at the same time. I was thinking about going there myself. I always have an appetite after meditation. What about you?"


    Naar-Tam nodded and Tim did the same in doubt. After that incident, he had meditated only a little, for fear of falling back into the nightmare. And, accordingly, the feeling of hunger simply had no time to arise.


    There was no Ri-Bo in the dining room, either. Iwiel and Yumial were whispering about something at one of the tables, and our friends went as far as possible to the opposite side of the room. Tim''s throat was dry with excitement, and even though his desire hadn''t fully formed, a glass of cold juice materialized in front of him. His friends saw this and got themselves a cold drink as well. And, at the same time, a snack to go with it.


    "Anyway," Tim began, not wanting to waste any more time. "Now someone else knows about our secret."


    Naar-Tam was about to take a sip, but he nearly choked on it.


    "Who?"


    "Selkise. Or rather, she guessed where we''d gone, and dared me. I blurted it out because I was surprised. And since I''m guilty, I''m willing to suffer whatever punishment you give me. If you see fit, you can have my share of the treasure."


    "Don''t be absurd," Mez''A''Shib grimaced. "Any one of us could have been caught. There''s a reason why there are so many books on feminine cunning. You said she promised to keep her mouth shut, didn''t you? Naar, you know the yusmes better than we do. How well can we trust them?"


    "They are usually trustworthy companions," Naar-Tam replied after a moment''s hesitation. "The thought that they might hurt someone with their actions makes them suffer. Therefore, the betrayal will go only if they are convinced that it prevents a big trouble."


    "Let''s hope she doesn''t want to raise us that way. And why did Ri-Bo only ask her to stay?"


    "What if we offer her an exchange now?" Naar-Tam asked hopefully.


    "It would rather not do it," Mez''A''Shib advised him. "She will see the reason immediately. She''ll almost certainly take offense and then she might not keep her word. What''s done is done and you can''t take it back."


    "Wait a minute," Tim exclaimed. "If Selkise is in the men''s compartment by mistake, one of the boys must have been in the women''s one! We''re evenly matched, twenty-five boys and as many girls! Whether it was an accident or on purpose, I don''t know, but it''s a fact."


    "Didn''t you know that? The twin elves decided not to split up and took the next two rooms. Eliavel made arrangements with the girls there, and they agreed to have Eliavin live next door to them."


    "Yeah, Eliavin would hardly want to swap with Selkise then. Then it''s fate."


    "Keep your heads up. Better present her something, then she won''t want to talk."


    The advice took Tim and Naar-Tam by surprise.


    "What in particular do yusmes like to receive as a gift?" Tim realized the idea and turned to Naar-Tam, but the peirot had nothing to say but frozen berries in sweet syrup.


    "No deal. Thanks to kitchen magic, any one of them could make themselves a bucket of these treats. All right, I''ll think about it. If it''s my fault, I''ll make it up to me."


    The friends did not argue, and, as it seemed to Tim, were even glad that it was not up to them to solve the problem. But there was nothing to be offended about: a true man must be able to take responsibility for his actions. At least, that was what his parents said.


    "Disinformation can also be used," Mez''A''Shib said, crunching on some roasted peanuts. "Like telling Selkise that we won''t be home on some night. And we''ll go to another one!"


    "By the way, why do we have to go at night?" Tim remarked mockingly.


    His friends looked at him in bewilderment. Tim had to explain.


    "We can go anywhere during the day, right? And no one would think of looking for us. We can go out early in the morning and come back in the evening without violating the Code. And we shall have much more time to spare!"


    "You''re right!" Naar-Tam exclaimed in amazement. "I''m surprised no one has thought of that before."


    "Perhaps there have been some who have completed their training. But they''re not here now so they can''t leave a clue," Mez''A''Shib said thoughtfully. "But it doesn''t matter now. I''m all for it. But we''ll have to talk to the kobold first. I''ll take care of that."


    Once again no one argued.


    "Well, that leaves me to tell Ri-Bo what we talked about!" the peirot added cheerfully.


    "By the way, what makes you think he should be here?"


    "I don''t know. There''s no point in searching for crystals in public places now. He''d probably ask one of us to go exploring the forest. It is not interesting to go alone! There''s no reason to go to the dwarves, or to the study room. If only to the library..."


    This last option seemed very funny to our friends for some reason.


    "Never mind," Mez''A''Shib said through laughter. "Where''s he going to get away from us? We''ll see when he comes back."


    Though if they''d known the kind of trouble their friend was in, they would rush to the rescue instead of sneering.


    That day, Ri-Bo really went for a walk in the woods. But not to explore, but with a purely practical purpose - to gather more ingredients for alchemical transmutations. And ask the kobold to teach him how to make at least the simplest potions. He had always been interested in the art of potions; before school, he had often helped Ba-Ku, the local healer, to concoct potions for his tribesmen who were ill. A good potion-maker wouldn''t be out of work in his land. And on top of that, honor and respect from all sides!


    Suddenly, two golden-haired boys came out of the bushes, blocking his path. Instinctively, Ri-Bo shoved the ingredient list into his pocket and looked around. A third anzimar appeared from behind the tree he had just passed. The escape route was cut off, there would be no escape. He was foolish to fall into such a trap! And all because of his own carelessness and presumptuousness!


    "Finally," Germeht smiled happily, as if he''d met an old friend. "You can''t imagine how much time and energy we''ve spent anticipating the moment when we could talk to you without any problems."


    "And since you didn''t want to come when you were invited, it''s going to be a very serious talk," Kunfor grinned.


    "About what?" Ri-Bo squeaked in a voice trembling with fear.


    "What do you think?" approaching closer, Hindag grabbed his horns and jerked them gently to one side and to the other. "Do they hold firmly? It''s not too tight, is it? That''s good. And if you behave properly, nothing will happen to them. In short, everything is in your hands."


    "What''s that for?" Germeht snatched the bag of ingredients from the tilfing''s hands. "You want some snacks for dinner? Fresh herbs are the most suitable food for goats!"


    The laughter frightened the birds in the nearby branches. Ri-Bo was the only one not laughing.


    "What do you want?" he whispered, barely able to keep from crying.


    "Oh don''t worry, not much at all," Germeht continued smiling. "We don''t intend to stay here for five years and are very interested in coming home as soon as possible. And without a good pumping of magical potential you cannot get thousand points.  Meditation is for nerds, so we''ll go the other way! And if you''re not stupid (which is often the case with tilfings, Kunfor added sarcastically), you can guess which one."


    Since Ri-Bo was silent, Hindag took the floor again.


    "He''s probably a little dumb, so I''ll speak directly. You remember what Aerg said about the crystals at the lecture? You must have found them yourself. Or are you going to deny it? Don''t you dare lie to us! We see right through people like you. If you try to dodge us, you might get into trouble with your ''jewels''."


    And he yanked the tilfing''s horns again, this time a little harder, and therefore more painful.


    "Well, let''s not beat around the bush," Kunfor decided to draw a line. "From now on, you will actively search for them. And you''ll bring us half of what you find. For that no one here will touch you. If anyone dares, tell us, and we''ll deal with it."


    The mocking laughter was again.


    "In short, do you understand us? You sure?"


    Ri-Bo nodded his head mechanically.


    "That''s it, good boy. Go on a search, in three days we''ll expect your visit with a whole bag of gifts! Why are you standing here, time is money!"


    And, clapping his hand on the tilfing''s shoulder, Germeht headed in the direction of the school; the rest of the anzimars followed him. Ri-Bo was left alone and was finally able to let his tears flow. What an idiot he was! He should have been so stupid to get caught! He''d been warned, why didn''t he listen? On the other hand, he shouldn''t have brought his friends with him everywhere he went. He should have been more careful when he went anywhere by himself. But we are all very smart in the back of our minds.


    And what to do now? There was no doubt that the anzimars were capable of making life very difficult for him. It''s not hard to imagine what awaits him if they''ll become seriously angry. Maybe tell his friends about it? But that would put them all at risk. Chilajt once had managed to scare the anzimars, but that trick wouldn''t work again. Next time, they''d use their Super-Abilities and... it''s scary to even think how it would end. He had occasion to see how anzimars armed with their Super-Strength broke tree trunks with their bare hands, or simply yanked them out with their roots. Those were grown-up anzimars, however, but a quarter of that strength would be enough for him. No, he shouldn''t say anything to his friends! He could, of course, complain to some ghost, but what good would that do? Anzimars hadn''t used magic on him, hadn''t beaten him, they''d just had a "heart-to-heart talk". Even if a miracle happens and a fair punishment would be imposed on the perpetrators, it won''t make him feel any better. In addition, he did not need to earn a reputation as a snitch and tattletale! Then no one will want to be friends with him for sure.


    So he''ll have to pay them off. The treasure found in the dungeon is enough for a while. He''ll try to spend it sparingly, giving away the crystals he doesn''t really need. Get the anzimars out of the school as soon as possible, it would be much better here without them. If one of them burns out from too much mana, that''s no great loss. He wouldn''t regret it, personally.


    A little comforted by the thought, Ri-Bo crouched down and gathered the ingredients from the bag - Germeht had tossed it on the ground as he deemed beneath his dignity to give it back. Well, they''ll get theirs, there''ll be a feast on his street too, Ri-Bo thought with hatred. Sooner or later it will happen...

 Chapter 20.

    "I hope you used the time you had been given for preparation well," Master Aerg frowned as he looked around at the students assembled in the lecture room.


    Alas, their mini-vacation was over, and now you would have to prove that you had spent it properly, not by testing the power of kitchen magic or racing feyo with your friends. Although Tim had read through the main sections of Frexg''s textbook, he ducked over his desk just in case, so that he could be less visible from below.


    "Well, it''s not hard to check. You, for instance!" the teacher''s finger pointed at Elsingor. "Are you ready for class?"


    "Aye, Master!" the elf jumped up.


    "Very good. What are the main sections of Light Magic?"


    It was not necessary to open a textbook to answer this question; it was enough to be present at the last class. But there was no one to discuss it.


    "There are three: Healing, Defense against Dark magic, and Super-Abilities."


    "Can you cite any formula from the Super-Abilities section?"


    "Eltis dimglur znarub," Elsingor said without hesitation. "It''s a formula for Super-Agility that allows you to catch things on the fly and jump from branch to branch like a vulpit."


    "Let it be. What about the formula..."


    "And we already have Super-Abilities!" Hindag announced cheerfully to the whole audience.


    "For daring to interrupt your teacher, minus two points and three hours of community service," Master Aerg said without changing his tone of voice. "Your Super-Abilities are innate, aren''t they? You don''t have to be in school to develop them. If you had mastered something completely different by the second lesson, then you would deserve praise. For example, at least one of the ways to defend against Dark magic. Otherwise, if you come face to face with a black magician, you''ll be defenseless against his charms. I''ll show you what that would look like in real life."


    And, pointing his wand at Hindag, he uttered ''shaftag toohs pfeshern''. A few purple-red sparks flew from the tip of the wand, and went toward the target. Hindag gave a muffled cry, and, biting his lip, collapsed on his side, convulsed. The apprentices next to him jumped up in fright, trying to move out of the way.


    "Don''t panic: it''s only Epilepsy, not Plague Fever, which is dangerous to be around," the teacher reassured them. Then, however, he had mercy and cancelled the effect of his own magic. Clutching the edge of the desk, Hindag rose to his feet, his lip bleeding. Master Aerg raised his wand again, but, changing his mind, he lowered it.


    "Is there anyone among you who knows the formula for stopping the bleeding?"


    "May I try it?" Xitati stood up timidly.


    Since no one else volunteered, permission was granted.


    "If he gets any worse, blame yourself," Kunfor hissed at her, but that didn''t stop Xitati.


    "Bieli taarh pinso!"


    Not immediately, but it stopped bleeding, and the wound gradually healed.


    "Not bad for a start. I think it deserves two points. Do you see how useful it is to be a healer? A good sorcerer of Light will be welcome everywhere! Except for the gloomy abodes of Dark sorcerers, of course."


    "Master, tell us more about the abodes, please!" Nhel''Yu''Min asked, smiling beamingly.


    "Let another Master tell you about dark magic and its adepts," Master Aerg frowned again. "We are concerned primarily with guarding against it. And now I''m going to repeat the experiment (Hindag tried to hide under the desk, but he couldn''t). Don''t worry, this time you won''t have to squirm. Because first I''ll put up a defense!"


    Anzimar''s body was surrounded by a milky white glow, which swallowed up another batch of purple-red sparks.


    "You see? Nothing bad happens to someone who has a protective spell on him! But only if the attacking spell was not too strong. Otherwise, the defense will be broken, and the attack will reach its target, though it will be weakened. But we will talk more about that later. For now, let us continue a test of your knowledge."


    The next victim was Ruum-Fib, who correctly recited the formula to stop the bleeding, but made a mistake in the formula to relieve pain. Which naturally led to another stream of moralizing.


    "Not ''amfirri'' but ''etmirri'', pay close attention to your pronunciation! Sometimes changing just one letter makes a spell useless! Or it might not work the way you want it to. This is not so critical when creating illusions, but it is disgraceful for the healer and puts his entire reputation at risk. So try not to make mistakes!"


    No punishment was imposed - Master Aerg apparently decided that a verbal indoctrination was enough. Then he switched to Gmuruk, but no matter how hard he tried he couldn''t produce anything meaningful.


    "What do you want him to do, he''s a stupid orc!" Kunfor exclaimed merrily. A few of the students laughed, the rest just smiled. Tim was in no mood for laughter - Master Aerg had decided to walk among the rows and was now heading in their direction. If a teacher comes up to you in class, you''re in trouble, Tim worried. He didn''t think there''s anything wrong with him, but it was still a little unnerving.


    However, as it turned out, Master Aerg wasn''t personally interested in him.


    "Well, let''s see what you''re writing down. And we''ll start with you! Show me your grimoire!"


    Ri-Bo had no choice but to comply. Needless to say, he never bothered to fill it out. The teacher''s reaction was quite predictable.


    "What is that!?" exclaimed Master Aerg, shaking the grimoire with completely blank pages in front of the audience. "It''s as if you were not even in class! Do you think you were given those grimoires out of nothing to do? Or are you counting on your memory? It''s doubtful that you have such a phenomenal memory that you could remember everything that was said or read once! But it''s not hard to check."


    "Please, don''t!" Ri-Bo muttered, terrified. "I''ll take notes!"


    "All right, fine. I''m sure minus three points and five hours of community service will be useful for it. I''ll check the entire class''s grimoires at the next class. If I find you sloppy in filling them out, blame yourself!"


    And after making sure that what was said got through to everyone, Master Aerg headed back to the rostrum. Tim breathed a sigh of relief - the storm had passed. And he looked around, but he hurriedly averted his eyes when he met the grinning Selkise''s gaze. Yesterday, after the conversation in the dining room, he decided not to pull the cat by the tail and make a gift at once. On a walk through the woods with Mez''A''Shib after a lesson in Mind Magic, they had spotted a peculiar flower with creamy, maroon speckled openwork petals surrounded by fleshy blue green leaves. There was no stem - the flower grew straight out of the ground. The drow wasn''t interested in it - it wasn''t on the ingredient lists, and you could find prettier ones in the flowerbeds. There were indeed specimens in the flowerbeds that were gorgeous to look at. But it would be clear at once - you didn''t do it from your heart, but just to get rid of it. It would have been easier to present her with a bunch of the crystals they''d found in the dungeon. But his intuition told him that she would not like such a gift, and she might even be offended. So he borrowed a flower pot from Mez''A''Shib and went in search of the representative of the local flora. He had to pull it out with his bare hands, undermining the base and slowly releasing the roots. Good thing, after the rain the day before, the soil was soft and moist. The main thing is whether the plant will take root in its new location; it would not be very nice if it withered out the next day and she had to throw it away.


    Heartbroken, he shifted from one foot to the other in front of the door of 27th room, hesitating to knock. But in the end he mustered up the courage.


    Selkise, if she was surprised to see him, made no sign of it. Her room was pleasantly semi-dark - heavy curtains covered the window almost completely, letting in only a small amount of sunlight. And it was noticeably cooler inside than outside. Was she really capable of generating cold with her own body? Naturally, Tim did not voice the thought aloud.


    "Here! It''s for you!" he cheerfully announced, taking the pot out from behind his back.


    "What for?"


    "A present!"


    "Really!?" Selkise has taken the pot from his hands after hesitating for a moment.


    "Isn''t it unusual? It''s very pretty, isn''t it?"


    "It depends on what you mean by that. Everyone has different tastes and preferences, especially here, where we are all from different worlds. But I don''t argue, the flower is very pretty indeed. But you shouldn''t do that. I gave my word."


    Tim stared at her stunned. She can read minds, after all! Or she is damn clever and guessing, capable of calculating situations many steps ahead. But the truth, as usual, was somewhere in the middle.


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    "There''s a lot of guilt emanating from you, resentment against yourself and a desire to be liked (now, who does she think she is?!?). Or rather, to please with a gift," Selkise corrected herself.


    Which was followed by a conclusion:


    "I suppose it''s not the tradition of your people to take your word for it."


    "It depends on the individual, sometimes on the situation," Tim grimaced. "Some people are worthy of trust, the others need to be verified, and there are those who will lie with absolutely honest eyes. But isn''t that how it is with your people?"


    "I don''t deny it, we sometimes try to cheat, too. But it happens much less often - even if some yusme is not strong in empathy, he is able to distinguish the truth from outright lies."


    "That''s great! I want to be an empath too!"


    "Yeah? Have you ever thought about the consequences? Can you imagine what it would be like to live with peeled skin? To feel someone else''s pain as your own? A gift like that is also a curse. I''m afraid by the time you figure that out, it''ll be too late."


    "It''s purely theoretical," Tim backed out, stunned by her emotional rebuff. Which didn''t stop him from going on the counteroffensive a few seconds later:


    "If, as you claim, I also will become an empath sooner or later, I have to be prepared for anything. So thanks for the warning. By the way, there, in the dungeon, we came across an inscription made in blue blood..."


    Tim blurted, and then bit his tongue. But a word spoken is past recalling, and Selkise literally bombarded him with questions.


    "What is this inscription? Why do you think it was blood? Did someone die there? Did you happen to find any remains?"


    "Relax, there weren''t any bones lying around. I knew it was blood and not paint when I touched the writing. I felt a cold of loneliness, sadness, and heartache."


    "Did any of my people get so bad that even you could feel it?" Selkise got worried. "I''m sorry, I don''t doubt your talents, it''s just that it''s easier for us, yusmes, to understand each other than it is for others. I wish I''d been with you!"


    Tim did not have time to react - after a moment''s pause, she spoke again, hastily and pleadingly:


    "If you get a chance, will you take me with you? I will not become a hindrance, I promise! I will not be frightened, and will not cry! And I''ll come in handy somewhere!"


    Stunned by her pressure, Tim took a step back.


    "Please calm down, I personally have nothing against it. But it''s not just my secret."


    "The important thing is that you agree. And why don''t boys like to accept girls in their company? It all depends on the individual! No offense, but among the males, too, there are cowards, and chatterboxes, and the real scoundrels! Would you say not?"


    "I''m not arguing with you," Tim agreed humbly, and it was as if steam had been blown out of the yusme.


    "Okay, I''m sorry, I got a little excited. Or, as we call it, I became peirot-like. The flower is really pretty, I hope it will take root - I don''t have much experience with plants. The first thing they need is sunlight."


    She put the pot on the window sill, but a sudden wind swung up the curtains and almost threw it off.


    "I think there''s a storm coming," Tim said anxiously, glancing out the window.


    And indeed - the wind was getting stronger and stronger, the leaden clouds covered almost half of the sky, and blue-purple lightning was cutting through the horizon.


    "How beautiful! Let''s see from the balcony!"


    Following Selkise, Tim found himself outside, exposing his face to the tiny droplets of water coming in from the ocean. A flock of birds with brilliant blue-green plumage swooped past, anxiously chirping in flight and rushing to find shelter from the impending storm.


    "It''s nice to have wings," Tim glanced at them.


    "It''s not for everyone," Selkise sighed. "Would you like to learn to fly? Some wizards can levitate. But we don''t have enough mana to get even half a finger above a hard surface."


    "That''s a pity. Can you imagine how nice it would be to sit by the ocean? Or fly over it and maybe discover uncharted lands? Where I come from, everything has been discovered and mapped out long ago."


    "You''re quite the romantic, aren''t you?" she smiled, wiping the splash of water from his forehead with her hand. "You''re not the only one. Look at that!"


    Tim looked around. Almost half the class had got out onto the balconies, too. And most of the ''romantics'' were staring at them instead of admiring the wild weather!


    Catching up, he grabbed the yusme''s arm, and literally dragged her into the room with him.


    "The lightning is too close. It''s dangerous."


    "That''s not what I thought it was about," Selkise retorted sarcastically.  "Okay, let''s not get into that. Thanks again for the flower!


    Tim took advantage of the moment to say goodbye and run off to his room. The fact that she accepted the gift was a good sign. And since she asked to take it with her, she wouldn''t blab to anyone for sure - it wasn''t in her best interest now. Though it''s not clear what arguments he can use to convince his friends. He''s not going to offer it directly, or they''ll think he''s under her influence. And then there is no avoiding ridicule. Therefore, the most reasonable thing would be to wait for the right moment to talk.


    Thinking about it, Tim fell out of reality for a while. If the teacher or anyone else had called him now, he would not have reacted immediately. But luckily, Master Aerg urged them to master their healing skills in addition to filling out the grimoires, and then the session was over.


    "Why didn''t you ever bother to write it off?" Tim chided the tilfing when they were out of the classroom.


    "I didn''t have time... But today I will!"


    A noise behind them interrupted their conversation and made them turn around. As it turned out, the three orcs who had followed them out of the lecture room were stationed near the door, waiting for the anzimars. And as soon as they appeared, a tense conversation began.


    "Hey! You called me stupid, didn''t you?" Gmuruk began without any preamble.


    "Who else?" Kunfor joked. But he soon lost his laugh.


    "Are you responsible for your words?"


    "Get off, I''m not interested in you right now," the anzimar tried to end the conversation, but it didn''t work out.


    "You''re a coward, aren''t you? You won''t take on a challenge?"


    "Looks like someone''s going to have to learn a good lesson," Kunfor gritted his teeth. "Germeht, hold my things."


    "Are you insane to start a fight here?" Rumara was indignant when she appeared afterwards. "Get out into the yard and sort it out amongst yourselves! And the rest of you, too, if you have nothing else to do!"


    What a commander, Tim grinned. You can''t say a word against her. Whoever gets her as a wife can only be sympathetic.


    Strangely enough, her shouting had some effect - the anzimars and the orcs ceased their verbal quarrel and headed for the mountain exit, followed by the thrill-seekers. There were a lot of thrill-seekers - almost the whole class, including our friends. They also were curious to see how it would end!


    Nobody was going too far into the woods; there was no point, because no one was going to use attacking magic. And the ghosts didn''t care about ''communicating'' with the use of physical force - unless, of course, no one complained. On the flat ground about twenty steps from the exit, the opponents stopped, glancing at each other with hostility. Everyone else stood in a semicircle around them and waited.


    "Are you ready?" Rumara asked. "Then on my signal, start. One, two, three!"


    With a guttural growl, Gmuruk lunged at his offender. Now he would miss, as it had taken place when they were standing in line, Tim thought, but he was wrong. Kunfor seemed to be counting on an easy victory again, but a few sensitive blows to the body quickly drove the smug expression off his face. He had to fight in earnest - the Battle Cry wielded by orcs turns a fighter into a berserker, increasing his strength and speed and making him insensitive to pain. It''s essentially the same Super-Ability, just a different version of it. Alas, it is short-lived, too - when the effect ends, fatigue and apathy come to replace it. And now - only a minute has passed, and the opponents are suffocating, and their movements are not so fast anymore. A little more, and Gmuruk knocks Kunfor out, but stumbles and stretches to his full height on the ground.


    "That''s enough for today!" As the referee, Rumara ends the brawl. "There''s a draw and we''re done!"


    "We''re not actually done yet!" Kunfor rises and exclaims angrily.


    "Haven''t you had enough? I''ll add more!" Gmuruk growls back.


    "Do you want to kill each other? Look at yourselves, what do you look like!"


    And indeed, the top of their uniforms was torn, in addition to numerous bruises and abrasions over the whole body there was a blueness above Kunfor''s left eye, and Gmuruk was bleeding from a broken lip. At once there were several classmates who wished to try their healing talents on them. But if the bleeding could somehow be stopped, the black eye was more difficult to cure.


    "Oh, well, it''ll pass, you amateurs," Kunfor muttered.


    "Never mind, we''ll continue without witnesses at some point," Germeht whispered, reassuring him. "Then we''ll show those animals where they belong."


    The orcs, of course, did not hear this, noisily cheering their comrade''s success. After all, few in the class believed in the possibility of successfully confronting anzimars in hand-to-hand combat. And so it was recommended not to quarrel with them.


    Kunfor, accompanied by his countrymen, went to the medical aid station to clean up his appearance. Satre, who ran the station, had an assortment of remedies for bruises, colds, headaches, and, of course, indigestion, the most common ailment in the first year of the school. Too many, once out of their parents'' control, began abusing the dining room, and the results were quite predictable. Especially when friends from other planets are treating you - the food they are accustomed to can be almost inedible to you. And it''s not always convenient to refuse, because they might get offended.


    In addition to a variety of powders and potions, Satre had scrolls - rolled sheets of special paper impregnated with disposable magic. If the situation was too grave, or if a potion was unavailable, Master Aerg was to be summoned. Tim wondered why they didn''t hire a professional wizard-healer for that position. Maybe they decided to save money, since dwarves are cheaper? If Tim had been the Principal, the first thing he would have done would have been to hire someone with skills in both traditional medicine and Light magic.


    And yet they had never shown them the head of the school! If he was so old and infirm, why didn''t he leave his post? After all, it would be better for everyone, and especially for the Principal himself - to relieve himself of the burden of responsibility and simply enjoy life. But for some reason, the authorities prefer to remain in their positions even when they no longer have the strength or clarity of mind, shifting their worries onto the shoulders of their assistants. And gradually the helpers take the levers of government into their own hands, not caring about anything but their own benefit. And only for the sake of propriety they cover themselves with the names of their ''patrons''.


    Could it be that something similar happened here? But how else can one explain the arbitrariness of the so-called Sir Pulsok? Mez''A''Shib told some interesting things about goblins on that walk through the forest. They are the most numerous race on Gallara. And the most despised. Everyone else dislikes them, and for good reason. Goblins are not very intelligent, but cunning and vindictive, in addition they like to take for themselves other people''s belongings. Their tribes roam all over the planet, including the dungeons, not staying anywhere for a long time (who would like such a neighborhood?). They are engaged in hunting and gathering, sometimes hired to do some work that doesn''t require great intelligence or great physical strength. They are hired reluctantly - though goblins charge little, the quality of their work is corresponding, it often has to be redone. But in doing dubious and dirty things they have no equal. They are the best at decorating someone''s house with obscene drawings, ruining someone''s garden or warehouse, swooping on a lonely traveler and taking all his belongings for themselves. Those caught doing this risk not surviving until the next morning - even light elves seldom show mercy in such cases. But the number of goblins is not decreasing - they are too numerous and prolific, and quickly restore their ranks. If Tim were Principal, he wouldn''t hire Pulsok even as janitor. And why were the teachers the only ones who tolerated him?


    His thinking was interrupted by an attack of a headache - Tim cringed, rubbing his temple.


    "Are you all right?" Tiis-Mir, who was beside him, was concerned.


    "I think so. It''s gone now!"


    "That''s great! Then let''s go play feyo with us!"

 Chapter 21.

    If the educational process at Jelshakh School was perfectly all right, then the entertainment process was exactly the opposite. It never occurred to any of the adults that the younger generation needed not only textbooks for normal development, but also games, and the more diverse, the better. Dwarves, however, had a board with a set of chips for the game of tutun, remotely resembling earthly backgammon. All dwarves love the game, and there are regular contests for the title of best tutun player in Gallara. But when you are a little over ten, energy is boiling inside, demanding an exit, and the weather outside is fine - can you sit several hours at the game table, intensively thinking over every move? It much more pleasant to play ball with friends, or race to see who could get to the goal faster. The ball, as it turned out, is nowhere to be found (for some reason none of the alien races were into football or volleyball), and the forest was not a clear field, so there was not much room to run around. The elves, whether light or dark, preferred hide-and-seek; the orcs and lycoses liked power games such as tug-of-war. For obvious reasons, the traditional activities of peirots and yusmes, such as jumping through fire or throwing snowballs, were abandoned. Therefore, the most popular game was feyo, which did not require any special conditions or special skills.


    The rules of the game are simple - as, probably, in most yard games. A palm-high wooden cylinder is placed on an elevation (a stool, a stump, a boulder with a flat surface). Or even a few such cylinders connected in a certain way. The player has a disk also made of wood and it must be thrown to knock the cylinders off the pedestal. At first glance there is nothing difficult, sleight of hand plus good eye, and it''s in the bag. But this is only at first glance. The greater the distance between the player and the cylinders, the harder it is to hit. But the bigger is the contribution to the team''s piggy bank - since there is no particular interest in doing it alone, the game is either three-on-three or five-on-five, but line-up variations are also possible. If you want to earn a lot of game points, use a disc with an offset center of gravity. Its trajectory is completely unpredictable (even if there is no wind!), but hitting it from fifty steps actually guarantees victory in the game. If you miss, the move goes to your opponent. And so on until a certain number of rounds are played or the necessary number of points is scored. The opposing team can field a catcher against you, whose task is to catch the disc on the fly. If he succeeds, the points go to his team. If not, you get double the points than with a normal throw. Using magic is forbidden, and trying to use it secretly gets the whole team disqualified.


    The first time he was invited to play feyo, Tim couldn''t hit the cylinder from ten steps. It was too unaccustomed; the disc should not be thrown in the same way as a ball or a snowball. However, with a little practice Tim got the hang of it. Though they were all still a long way off Fingor and Yumial, acknowledged virtuosos of the game - Fingor, for example, could easily defeat even one against five. So they were invited to serve as advisers and referees. Yumial enjoyed the role of referee even more than the role of player (at least, it seemed so to Tim) - she was happy to educate them on the subtleties of the game and show how to direct the disc in any given situation.


    The honor of officiating today''s match fell to her, too. They decided to play three-on-three - people had already scattered, and it proved problematic to get four more classmates to play five-on-five. Some people promised to come back later, but they did not want to wait for an unknown amount of time. As a result, Tim, Tiis-Mir, and Eliavin were on one team, and Naar-Tam, Eliavel, and Za-Zu were on the other. The elf twins, who always stuck together in life, tried to be in opposite camps in games - probably to emphasize their individuality that way. No one had anything against it: two elves was too much of an advantage for either team. After all, feyo was invented on their planet, and therefore all pointy-eared people know how to play it - just some better, some worse.


    The boulder on which Master Nimikel had sat during Green Magic class was chosen as the pedestal for the cylinders. As a matter of fact, it was hard to find a better place in the woods for feyo, with a reasonable elevation and plenty of room to maneuver. Za-Zu still wondered if the Master would be offended if he knew how the students were using the ''teacher''s chair''.


    "She wouldn''t. She used it just like that when she was a pupil," Eliavin said, smiling merrily.


    "How did you know that?"


    "Oh, I just met her a few days ago, during a walk in the woods, and we got to talking. By the way, she was the one who suggested using the glade for the game."


    "Cool! If you meet Aerg or Ven''A''Sash in a situation like that, you''re not likely to want to have a little chat. You''d rather pretend you weren''t here, waiting when they pass by."


    "I don''t think you''ll meet them in the wilderness. I suppose for Aerg the forest is a sort of vast untended piece of land where it is necessary to clean up. To pave roads of brick in all directions, plant them with ornamental shrubs, and cut everything else to the ground. And the drowes don''t give a damn about the beauty of our world, they don''t even have any greenery in their dungeons."


    Tim could have argued, of course - Mez''A''Shib enjoyed wandering through the forest. But it was more important to concentrate on another thought - if the elf had managed to meet Master Nimikel, then he also had a chance. All he has to do is to get out into the fresh air more often. Because, as it turned out from further conversation, the teacher of druidism appeared here regularly, volunteering her duties as a forest ranger. And if he''ll ask her nicely, she is not likely to refuse to answer his questions.


    The game didn''t start well for his team - first Tiis-Mir missed, and then Tim, and just a little: the disc flew a centimeter over the cylinder without touching it. The next two rounds they were able to get back some points, but in the fourth round the disc missed the target again. It wasn''t my day, Tim grieved. His head was too full of various problems, he could not relax, devoting himself entirely to the game. And so, giving up his place to Ivliar, who had come to watch the game, he went for a little walk. What if today is the day when he''ll learn something very important? Maybe at least fortune will be on his side. Eliavin could not say exactly where in the woods he had met the teacher. But it''s unlikely it took place too far from the school - none of them had ever been to the real backwoods.


    Tim was just hoping to get lucky, so he wandered on. As he passed a grove of sharp-leaf trees and a thicket of yortt whose berries were quite edible, only slightly bitter, he heard an iridescent trill: someone was playing an uncomplicated tune on a pipe. Trying to avoid stepping on fallen leaves and branches, Tim turned off the path and took a detour. Not because he suspected danger to himself, just out of curiosity. As close as he could, he cautiously parted the branches of the tree that separated him from the musician. He saw a startling scene, Iwiel sitting on a fallen tree, her back to him, a makeshift flute in her hands, and a paamph stomping awkwardly about on its hind legs. It''s trying to dance, isn''t it?


    But no matter how enchanted the little beast was by the music, it sensed the appearance of a stranger - first it stopped, sniffing, and then it ducked into the bushes, from where it warily looked in the direction of the tree behind which Tim was hiding. The latter had to leave his hiding place; from surprise, Iwiel instinctively tried to hide the flute in the grass.


    "Excuse me," Tim decided to be polite. "I couldn''t pass by such an unusual sight. You have real talent!"


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    "Oh, nothing, it''s one of the most primitive melodies," Iwiel dismissed, though she obviously liked the compliment. "It''s a tune even a child could play. If you''d heard real musicians, you''d have forgotten all around."


    "Maybe I will someday. You''re really good with the pet, though! Training or magic?"


    "More like the former. Magic can subdue the beast, but it will only obey orders. It will not be able to communicate with you."


    "Like resuscitating a corpse," Tim remembered Master Ven''A''Sash''s lesson.


    "Ugh, what an analogy," Iwiel crinkled her face. "The elves consider the study of Brown magic more disgraceful than cleaning latrines! Only the outcasts practice it, and only at their own risk. And dark elves, who take pleasure in all sorts of nastiness!"


    "Is it really that scary of me?" Tim changed the subject, noticing that the beast was still sitting in the bushes, making no attempt to get out. It''s not running away, though.


    "No, it''s just being careful. Pimpy, you can go back, the human won''t do you any harm!"


    "Actually, my name is Timothy."


    "And I''m Iwiel (Tim nodded his head - nice to meet you, though he knew the elf''s name). Pimpy, introduce yourself too!"


    Pimpy got up on his hind legs and shook his muzzle.


    "Oh, goody!" Tim admired. "You have astonishing training abilities!"


    "In fact, it was already tamed. Someone from the previous class had tried. But for some reason he didn''t take it with him when he graduated, even though he had promised to. And so Pimpy was sad a lot at first. I hope I was able to bring him out of his depressed state."


    "Maybe the former owner decided that it would be better off here? Or were the teachers not allowed to take it with him?"


    "Then he shouldn''t have made promises! Yes, beasts are very trusting and easy to deceive, but how will you feel afterwards?"


    "I agree, not good. I''ve never kept pets at home, but I can imagine. But maybe the owner will come back for it."


    "I certainly hope so. Pimpy''s grown very fond of him."


    "It''s a pity we can''t find out who he was. I don''t think the paamph can talk."


    "Why not? If you use Mind Symbiosis, you can access its memories. Unfortunately, it''s a very serious magic, and only very experienced druids have it."


    "Maybe after a while you can, too."


    "Thank you. Although I''ll almost certainly be out of school by then. That''s why it''s better to let the owner come back."


    "Who''s against that?"


    And so they parted. And at continuing on his way, Tim heard the sound of a flute behind him.


    After it Tim was deep in thought and for some time he walked without knowing the road and without even looking around. It was only when the trees in front parted, revealing a view of a small clearing, that Tim switched back to his perception of the world around him. And froze, as if a gust of icy wind in the middle of a hot July day had brought a sense of danger. The clearing was too strange, too different from the others.


    While everywhere else in the forest was summer (Jelshakh, as Tim had learned, knows almost no change in the seasons - sometimes a little warmer, sometimes a little colder, but the range of temperature is small), here it was as if autumn had taken a walk - the grass was shriveled and yellowed, the flowers wilted, lifelessly bowed to the ground. And the silence that you meet in nature on the eve of winter, when the birds have flown away to warmer lands. And right in the middle of the clearing - a plant that resembles a sunflower. On a long stalk, blackened from the roots to the top, dangled dejectedly in an inflorescence the size of a small cabbage. The fire had only partially scorched it, leaving marks so that from a distance the ''cabbage'' looked very much like...


    ...a human skull!


    It was the clearing from his dream!


    Tim''s whole body was instantly covered in clammy sweat. He took a step back, ready to run away at a moment''s notice. But no one was going to play cat and mouse with him, no creatures armed with glass daggers looked out from behind the trees, and the silence continued. Still, being prudent, Tim did not approach the strange plant. More importantly, he remembered his dream in great detail!


    But where was the Oracle to be found? And for what purpose? He had not been able to find out this in the dream. And it is unlikely to find out now - the dream is not a movie or a book, there will be no sequel. So he would have to make inquiries. And the easiest way would be to visit the library again.


    There was no reason to stay in the clearing, and there was no desire to either. The only problem was, how to get out of here? The trees were so tall that he couldn''t see any reference points behind their crowns. And he could hardly go back the way he came - while he was thinking, he turned off the path and wandered at random for some time. That''s why the chances of getting lost were too great. Trying to reconstruct the path from memory, Tim quickly became convinced of the need to develop the skill of a pathfinder, otherwise any hike into remote terrain would end in an embarrassing fiasco. Pride didn''t allow him to shout ''Ow!'', so the view from above was the fastest way to find his way back. But there was a problem: the bark of the trees surrounding the clearing was slippery, as if covered in oil. After a bit of torture, Tim jumped up and clung to the lower branch of the nearest tree, hoping to pull himself up and then climb higher. But it suddenly broke easily at the base. Why is the local flora so fragile?  On Earth, even a dry branch of that thickness would have supported his weight!


    He has to go at random - somewhere there would be a road or a hill that would make it easy to know where to go. Tim was not afraid of getting lost - the forest was big, but not endless, there were no beasts that could attack him, so sooner or later he would get to the school. Either his friends will find him when they are worried about his long absence, or ghosts will do it during the night raid. The latter option didn''t suit Tim at all; fortunately there was still time before nightfall. But not so much to wander back and forth in vain.


    Help came from where he hadn''t expected it. There was rustling in the grass nearby, and a paamph leaped to the edge of the clearing. The same one that had been dancing to the sound of the flute, and panting Iwiel appeared behind him.


    "Pimpy, where are you going with that speed, you have four paws and I only have two legs! What''s so interesting about this place? Yuck, what a smell, let''s get out of here!"


    That last one didn''t apply to Tim, whom the elf girl, concerned about the strange behavior of the paamph, didn''t even notice. Tim, however, had no intention of hiding.


    "Iwiel, hello again!" he shouted, revealing himself.


    The elf girl turned around, her face suddenly became indignant.


    "So you''re the one who stinks up the place?!?"


    "Watch what you say!" Tim took offense, tapping his knuckles expressively on his forehead.


    "I don''t mean the smell of your body, I mean the smell of witchcraft. That''s a nasty spell! Why did you use it?"


    "I didn''t do it! I could swear on anything!"


    "Honestly?"


    "Of course! If I don''t even have an innate gift, how can I use such powerful magic?"


    The argument didn''t make much sense, but it worked on the elf girl.


    "Okay, I''m sorry, I overreacted a little. But then who was it?"


    "How should I know? When I happened to be here, it was already like that."


    Tim did not, of course, tell her about his dream, but just remarked with a thoughtful look:


    "I don''t smell anything burnt, though..."


    "The fire had nothing to do with it. It''s either a curse or a poison! Don''t you smell anything?"


    Instead of answering, Tim leaned over, picked some of the dead stalks and smelled them. Indeed, the smell was present - a very unpleasant, ''chemical'' smell. That''s how cheap plastic toys on Earth smell when they''ve just been taken out of their packaging. Iwiel must have a well-developed sense of smell for smelling it from afar. Or his own nose was too accustomed to the smells of high-tech civilization.


    The paamph didn''t like it in the clearing, either - it wrinkled his nose amusedly, trying to keep away from the vegetation that was stricken with some unknown disease. Tim rummaged in his pocket for a piece of oatmeal cookie from the night before supper. The paamph sniffed at the treat, then grabbed it with his forelegs and chewed on it.


    "Look at that, he liked it," Iwiel was surprised. "And I didn''t think to bring any goodies from the dining room. I''ll be sure to do that next time! And now I''m going to use my gift to see if it works."


    A pale green cloud enveloped a patch of yellow-brown grass, but there was no visible change.


    "So there must be something else... is it dark magic?"


    "What''s your gift?"


    "Poison Neutralization. I can heal the bite of a poisonous insect or even a snake. I''ve never cured a plant. But I think I know what to do."


    However, she refused to reveal the details - you will know it in the end. And so they went back to the school.

 Chapter 22.

    "So, did you manage to sprout ultia?" Master Nimikel asked, smiling, as the class began.


    A discordant murmur of voices was the reply. Tim was silent - he had nothing to brag about. He got busy with his seeds only the night before, and they didn''t germinate as well as they were supposed to.


    "I see some people are eager to show off their skills. Well, let''s see who has been successful."


    She didn''t summon everyone, though - only those who wanted to demonstrate their achievements. Of course, the elves were out of competition, and each of them earned points - the more the faster the shoots sprouted.


    "Very good. Today I''ll also give you some patiis seeds. They are much harder to germinate, and your spell must have enough power to do so. But first, I will teach you another spell to help a plant in distress. For example, if it has been damaged, or if it is not receiving enough nourishment and is slowly beginning to wither away. Here''s the formula: ''fisaki zunn simier''. As you can easily see, it has a lot in common with the one you used for germination. And that''s no coincidence because in both cases you have to activate the vitality of the plant."


    Immediately Iwiel''s hand went up:


    "Master, I know a place where this spell can be put into practice!"


    So that''s what she meant when she claimed to know how to proceed!


    "Is that so?"


    "Tim and I found a whole clearing of withered grass in the woods yesterday!"


    "Strangely, it has been raining regularly the last few days, the plants must not have suffered from the drought..."


    "Someone there had been experimenting with magic, and a very stinky one at that! And now the plants are dying!"


    It was, in Tim''s opinion, too emotional, but the desired effect was achieved. The teacher was clearly interested in what he had heard.


    "In that case, I suggest we continue our lesson after the therapeutic procedures. You''ll see at the same time how Natural Regeneration works."


    And, cheerfully chattering on the move, - who wouldn''t be happy when something happened to interrupt the lesson? - they went off to save the local flora. Iwiel volunteered to show the way, and Tim didn''t mind, not sure if he could spot the right direction without a hitch. Still, it would be a good idea to put up signs in the forest. How else would he explain to his pals where the right place is? Elves, of course, do not need it - they were trained since childhood to navigate in the woods, so they are not afraid of any thickets. But not everyone here is a pointy-eared person!


    Since yesterday there had been a change in the clearing: the dead grass now carpeted the ground, and fresh growth was beginning to emerge around the edges: life was slowly taking its course. The trunk with the inflorescence that frightened Tim had withered away and broken under its own weight.


    "A very sad sight indeed," Master Nimikel agreed. "Please be careful when experimenting with magic, choose places where it cannot harm living organisms. And I will try to revive the plants, though they are already on the brink of death. Here, see how the appropriate spell works."


    The emerald-green mist descended on the clearing, and as it dissipated, the grass, which had suffered less, indeed began to revive. But the stalks closer to the ''epicenter'' (which the sunflower was) remained dry.


    "May we know who did it?" Iwiel asked, biting her lip.


    "And if it turns out to be one of your classmates, what will you do?" the teacher answered ironically. "Well, I''ll show you how a search spell works."


    Another wave of the wand, but this time a sort of ball of wool was formed in front of them. At the silent command, the ball rolled back and forth a few times, scanning the clearing. Its color changed from gray to dark blue, and then to purple. And then it froze in place next to the "sunflower" and turned gray again.


    "And then what?" Fingor got impatient this time. "There''s no one here who used fading magic?"


    "How do you know it was fading that was used?" Kakh''I''Geg caught him on the word.


    "Because it''s your favorite spell!"


    "And you think all drowes test it on the first plant they come across. We don''t have any greenery around! It''s a lot easier for you, light elves. You go out to the countryside, sit on the grass..."


    "Hey, now you''ll get it!"


    They''re not likely to start a fight or a duel of magic in the presence of their teacher. Nonetheless, Master Nimikel decided not to stay away.


    "Actually the class isn''t over yet, so please put aside your differences. You can discuss them after class, there will be plenty of time for that. Let me just point out that you are both right and wrong at the same time."


    "How is that?" Both sides of the conflict were surprised.


    "Very simple. Indeed, there is an Exhaustion spell in the Black Magic section, and there are many drowes love it. But, like any curse, it could not be cast on a plant, only on a sentient being (Taeron, standing behind Kakh''I''Geg, pointed a finger at her, causing a chuckling in the audience; the drow turned, but not quickly enough, so she could only give the mockers a look of displeasure). There was another spell used here...," she paused for a moment, as if hesitating whether to continue, "most likely, Withering, pertaining to Dark Druidism. Unlike Natural Healing, which we would study some time later, Withering deprives plants of almost all their vital powers, and they die as a result. Anyone could have used it, and not necessarily a drow. A light elf-renegade, for instance. And, sadly, there are those of other races, too, who like to mock nature. I hope none of you have Withering as an innate gift, do you?"


    A united ''No!'' was the answer.


    "Forgive me, Master, but can''t the magic of an innate gift be detected by a search spell?" Patpako said profoundly, pointing to the ball still located at the center of the clearing.


    "Why, it can, of course. Just like any other magic. But you don''t need to cast it directly. You know about enchanted things?"


    "Yes," Germeht answered with a challenge.


    "Do you know the point of their creation?"


    "Of course. This or that object is charged with magic which can be used even by those who have not a drop of mana. Enchantment is a wizard''s chief source of income. It''s elementary, Master!"


    "And we start with the basics. After all, what''s obvious to one may be a revelation to another (as it is to me, Tim thought - in computer games weapons and armor with magical properties can be found everywhere, but try to find them in real life!) A little later, as a training exercise, any person wishing will be given special paper, and you''ll learn how to create magical scrolls."


    "And how to determine if this or that magic belongs to light or dark druidism?" Shin''Ye''Het asked, smiling slyly.


    "Oh, that''s easy. You can see the difference between light and darkness, black and white, good and bad, can''t you? Druidism, from its very beginning, was about being one with nature. Its darker side, by contrast, lies in the distortion of its essence. For example, one of the favorite activities of dark druids is the creation of chimeras - monsters that combine parts of the bodies of different creatures."


    When asked to show them some funny monster, Master Nimikel flatly refused.


    "That is out of the question. Even if dark druidism were part of the school curriculum, I would not teach it to you. Of course, when your training is over you will be free to choose your own path, but I advise you to think twice before you take up its mysteries."


    Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    What followed was a cautionary tale about a dark druid named Rabbz, who liked to amuse himself by constructing various freaks. Once he decided to create a monster like never before seen: with dragon''s wings, elephant-like armored carcass, several pairs of paws armed with sharp claws, and in addition three-headed, supposing that with such ''pet'' nobody would dare stand in his way. However, the unexpected happened: the resulting nightmare attacked its creator in a rage, - even the security spells didn''t help! - trampled him, devoured him, and then died.


    Smiles appeared on the faces of the pupils.


    "The monster must have been pretty hungry."


    "And the wizard had time to soak up his own venom."


    "The moral is: don''t eat everything you can get your hands on!"


    Master Nimikel shook her head reproachfully.


    "It seems funny from the outside, but it''s sad, really. Rabbs was once one of the most talented graduates of the Miallay school of Green magic, and he''d made great progress in taming the sea creatures. Who or what made him turn to the dark side of druidism is unknown. Rabbs himself preferred not to speak about it. And now you know how it all ended. I hope that at least some of you will take it seriously."


    Tim was not particularly impressed by what he had heard - a lot of books and movies have an episode with ''going to the dark side'', and the reasons could be anything. Someone was greedy for money, someone was pathologically unlucky in life, and as a result he became embittered in the whole world, others were vicious from the beginning, just hiding their essence for the time being. Judging by the remarks, his classmates were not too worried about the hapless druid''s fate, as a matter of principle - if you can''t do it, don''t do it, and if you do it, blame yourself. Taeron, most likely in jest, suggested finding the formula for creating monsters in textbooks and practicing it on the sly. Master Nimikel smiled wryly upon hearing this, but did not moralize, merely asked to let her know if any more patches of withered grass appeared, and then handed out the seeds.


    That was the end of the lesson, and Tim hurried back to the school building, not without regret declining the invitation to go a few rounds of feyo. And all because of Ri-Bo who had dropped in on him the night before wishing to copy Tim''s notes into his grimoire. He clutched the stylus in his fist and began painstakingly to copy the letters. It wasn''t working very well, and Tim finally realized the reason why.


    "You don''t know how to write!"


    The tilfing nodded grimly.


    "There aren''t many of us who can write. They say that before the ansimars came, there were many who could write, and even some who kept records. The anzimars for some reason were careful to destroy them wherever they could get them. And now chroniclers can be found only in the deaflands, where even a tilfing can''t easily reach."


    "What''s the problem? Let me teach you!"


    Ri-Bo, without thinking much, accepted the offer.


    "Come on! Then Aerg will no longer pick on me why I''m idle in class. But wait, my countrywomen can''t write either! It would not be good if I learn and they do not."


    "Would they want to?"


    "Don''t worry, I''ll persuade them. But it is unlikely they will persist - because it''s in their interests, too!"


    In the end, they decided to meet in the classroom after Green Magic class - it was unlikely that anyone else would be there at that time. Why there? It''s simple: their rooms are too small to accommodate four people comfortably. Besides, there''s a blackboard in the classroom, and that''s the first time he''s ever been there as a teacher! Too bad he doesn''t have a pointer, and he hasn''t yet learned how to draw letters with the wand.


    Before their meeting, Ri-Bo reported that Za-Zu and Zhu-Fi were enthusiastic about the prospect of mastering literacy and would definitely come. So Tim didn''t even bother to run up to his room and went straight up to the second tier. And as a result, he was the first one in the classroom. The tilfings arrived three minutes later.


    "Come in, take your seats close to the board," Tim said in a mentor-like tone, playing the role of a teacher. "I''m not Aerg, there''s no point in hiding from me behind the desks."


    "We weren''t going to," Za-Zu said cheerfully, bouncing down the stairs.


    "Does everyone know what we''re here for?"


    "Yeah," Ri-Bo said firmly.


    "Who wants to be a whipping boy in a Light Magic class?" Zhu-Fi added derisively.


    But as soon as they were seated at their desks, Rumara peeked in the classroom.


    "Is teaching writing only for tilfings?" she inquired without any preamble.


    "No, why not," said Tim, bewildered.


    "Then we''d like that, too. Hey, where you are, come in!"


    Gmuruk, Urgrot, and Shugiz came into view one by one, but they weren''t eager to learn how to use the stylus.


    "Why, Alkitmi promised to fill in all our grimoires properly," Shugiz protested sluggishly.


    "It will come in handy in life. If you master magic, you can become a shaman. And if you''re also literate, you might even become the Supreme Shaman!"


    "Exactly! I''ll be the Supreme one, and you''ll be my assistant!'''' In a burst of inspiration Shugiz slammed his palm on Urgrot''s shoulder.


    "Maybe you''ll be my assistant!" the latter protested angrily.


    "Later you will decide which of you is more important, but now sit and listen carefully! Otherwise you won''t learn anything here, everyone will laugh at you! Or you''ll be kicked out of school and go home with shame!"


    "All right, all right, don''t make a fuss, we''ve got it all!"


    But Gmuruk continued to persevere.


    "My father and grandfather were great warriors; not knowing a single letter, they went hunting a zugur alone! And I will become so, and without any writing! I don''t need it, it''s just a headache, that''s all!"


    "Maybe you will, but others will think for you. What you have found to brag about, ignorance!"


    "If you''ve got a big grakk, it doesn''t matter if you can write or not!"


    Tim had heard the word before, and had a rough idea of its meaning - something between honor, respect, and rank. An orc with a large grakk is a welcome guest in any house, in a tavern he is always invited to a company, and he doesn''t even have to pay for a drink. The higher the grakk, the bigger your share of the loot, and the easier it is to become chieftain if you happen to want to. But it''s not so simple: you should not do anything unworthy of a true orc, or just shameful - it''s zrazd, in meaning the exact opposite of grakk. If you stabbed a man in the back, called for a fight with a person known to be weaker, gave your word, but  didn''t keep it, you''ll get zrazd and the corresponding attitude of other people around. No one will want to be friends with you, and if you made something really awful, you''ll be kicked out of your clan. Of course, you can fix it by committing heroic deeds such as killing a bunch of enemies or some terrible monster. You can''t pay it off with money, you have to earn the reputation all over again. In general, everything is very complicated, and probably only orcs themselves are able to figure out what kind of grakk each of them has.


    "And what argument do you consider respectable enough for yourself?" Rumara asked sarcastically.


    "Which one?" Gmuruk scratched his head, puzzled." Oh, I see! If I can''t beat you at izug, you win and I''ll study, then!"


    Tim also had time to learn what izug was. It''s essentially the same as arm wrestling - two people sit opposite each other and with clenched hands try to bring the opponent''s arm to the side.


    "No problem," Rumara grinned, rolling up the right sleeve of her uniform. Tim whistled involuntarily - he didn''t suppose a girl can have a bicep that any guy would envy. On Earth, in her weight class, she could have easily become a bodybuilding champion. Gmuruk seemed to appreciate that, too, but to back down in front of his mockingly smiling buddies was to lose face. After a minute and a half, they agreed to a draw - no one could gain a decisive advantage. Tim, however, had the suspicion that Rumara had simply not pressed Gmuruk enough allowing him to exit the match with honor. He seemed to understand it, too, as he plopped down willingly at his desk and opened his grimoire.


    A little later it turned out where Rumara got her leadership skills and muscular physique. As it turned out, her father was a clan leader and, like any ruler, dreamed of having a son to pass on the ''reins'' after a certain number of years. And it turned out to be a daughter, and the only one. There was nothing left to do but to bring her up in accordance with his ideas of the ideal ''heir to the throne'', forcing her to develop strength and courage. As a result, from an early age Rumara was dashing around with the boys, and could stand alone against two in a fight, which gave her great prestige among her peers. And along with it the skills of the leader - she was regularly chosen as a captain of a team in the yard games.


    "Are you ready?" Tim asked rhetorically, when everybody calmed down and got ready to listen. "Then I''ll start by showing you how to hold the stylus correctly. At first it will be difficult, but you will get used to it and then it will become automatic. Now, let''s start with the letters. Now, look, this is the letter ''A'', the first letter in the alphabet. Then you have a ''B'', followed by a ''C''...


    He carefully traced each letter on the blackboard and then waited patiently for it to be redrawn in the grimoires. So things moved slowly; by the time the alphabet was finished and it came to writing the simplest two- and three-letter syllables, everyone got a little tired. Seeing this, Tim suggested a break. But since people''s enthusiasm had waned after two classes in a row, they voted unanimously to continue tomorrow. Tim didn''t mind a little rest either, so he didn''t object, and at the end he wrote at the blackboard  the names of the people sitting at the desks, by asking everyone to write his own name on the title page of his grimoire.


    "Hey!" Shugiz was glad. "Now everyone will know that this grimoire belongs to me. And no one would think of stealing it!"


    "And ours too!" his buddies cheered on.


    Tim could hardly keep a serious expression on his face - he''d like to see who would need the grimoires of orcs. Of course, he didn''t say anything out loud.


    Together they left the classroom.


    "I want to see what''s in that museum when it finally opens!" Zhu-Fi pouted capriciously.


    "Probably magical artifacts of great power," Ri-Bo teased her.


    Shugiz walked up to the wall blocking the tunnel leading to the museum and felt it.


    "Not badly built. But if you want I could make a few holes in it!"


    "How?"


    "His gift is a Fragile Stone," Urgrot explained. "And I have Soft Metal. I used to make fun of it at home by knotting a horseshoe. Everyone thought I was so cool, but I just used my gift in a small way!"


    "And when it found out, you got punched in the face," Rumara added wryly.


    "Yeah. But I didn''t do it out of spite!"


    "The bricks could be enchanted, and then the attempt to forcibly penetrate is doomed to fail in advance," Tim said thoughtfully.


    "Do you hear what the clever human says? Do not even try to pick at the wall!"


    That applied to Rumara''s countrymen first, but the tilfings agreed with it, too.


    "I wish they''d tear it down soon," Za-Zu snorted.


    "We''ll ask one of the teachers when we''ll be allowed to see the local sights."

 Chapter 23.

    "So, any of you want to earn some points? Then please come in and show us what you''ve learned! Not an innate gift, please! Whoever cheats gets nothing!"


    In spite of the liveliness of character that is usually characteristic of individuals marked by levity and superficiality, Master Saag-Kof had prepared for the class thoroughly. There were bundles of dry branches in the corners; a huge glass bowl full of water on the rostrum; a trough of sand nearby and several rectangular cobblestones around it. There was also a strange structure, consisting of a round iron-clad metal shield suspended from a wooden tripod, with two small metal balls on spokes. What it was for became clear later, but for now Tim just watched the others perform.


    Ruum-Fib was the first to volunteer. He built an impressive-sized fireball that easily set one of the bundles ablaze. Master Saag-Kof nodded approvingly.


    "Not bad, not bad at all! However, for us, peirots, who have an innate penchant for Fire, this is how it should be. But, once again, a good mage is never limited to one element! How about mastering Water or Air, any luck?"


    "I know some formulas, but I doubt it will work," Ruum-Fib admitted.


    "And you do not doubt, then it will work! What formulas have you learned?"


    The attempt to create a Water Splash was indeed a failure. A little better was the Whirlwind - the airflow caused a distinct ripple on the surface of the water poured into the bowl.


    "Not bad for a start!" Master Saag-Kof approved. "Well worthy of three points!"


    Next up was Gillmir, who had learned the Freeze spell. He was offered to test it on the same water.


    "Can you make it to be covered with an ice crust?"


    Gillmir recited the formula diligently, but there was no visible change.


    "May I try again?"


    As he came closer, Master Saag-Kof touched the bowl.


    "It seemed to cool down a bit. Well, if you''re sure, go ahead!"


    This time it turned out better - the walls of the bowl were fogged up, which was noticeable even in the back rows. The teacher was also impressed.


    "For a second class, it was great! Keep up the good work, and sooner or later you''ll be able to do this!"


    With a wave of his wand Master Saag-Kof turned the entire contents of the bowl to ice and the rostrum was covered with frost. At the same time there was the sound of breaking glass.


    "How could I have forgotten that water expands when it freezes! Well, we''ll fix that now!"


    A cloud of silvery blue flakes enveloped the shards, joining them together into the original structure. With the next spell, the bowl (perfectly intact, not even a crack left!) was filled with water again.


    "What magic do you think I used to fix this glass vessel? Magical Glue? Do you really know such a spell? Actually, it''s a Form Restoration, a spell related to Transformation magic. Here''s the formula: ains ulteak toi focar. Its essence is multifaceted, some variations are used in other schools of magic as well, for example, in Healing in the treatment of fractures. It is a very valuable sorcery, I advise you to learn it!"


    He was immediately asked to tell them more about the magic of Transformation and to give them formulas that would allow to turn something into something else.


    "Formulas? As many as you like! Here''s the basic one, and here are variations for all occasions (several columns of similar word combinations appeared on the board). Do you want to see how they work?"


    And everyone''s ''Yes!'' was the answer.


    "Well, look!"


    Taeron was chosen as the ''guinea pig'', sitting right in front of the rostrum; no one asked his consent, of course (and Tim was once again convinced of how imprudently it is to sit right in front of a teacher). And now Taeron''s skin is darkening, his hair is shortening and turning black, and his shoulders are growing wide at the same time. Namitil and Faelinn, who are sitting on either side of Taeron, move cautiously away - an orc who resembles Shugiz at every drop of water is now beside them. Surprised oohs and aahs filled the audience, and only the orcs were not confused at all.


    "Hey, Taeron, come join us, we''re having fun!"


    "Did you like it?" Master Saag-Kof, with the smile of a prestidigitator who had managed to amuse a bored audience, asked him, returning the elf to his former appearance at the same time. "That''s just it! In the course of time you''ll be able to do miracles like that, too. Blue Magic is good, but it takes too much mana. And spells don''t last forever - sooner or later their original form will be regained. The main thing is to take advantage of it! At one time self-transformation was fashionable among sorcerers. For instance, the king decided to have a dinner party and for some reason he forgot to invite you. No problem! Reincarnate into some very important person and quietly go to the dinner. But, enjoying the company of the authorities, do not forget to look at a clock!"


    Just like in the fairy tale of Cinderella, Tim grinned. The clock struck twelve, and the beautiful dress was transformed into a rags, the coachman into a rat, and the carriage into a pumpkin. Wouldn''t it be easier to take advantage of illusions?


    A second later his thought was voiced by Jaamite.


    "Absolutely right, much easier! But only if there are no sorcerers with True Sight among those present! Yes, and it''s better to stay away from mirrors then!"


    "Taeron, will you tell us how it feels?" Heen-Lun shouted cheerfully to the laughter of the audience. I wouldn''t want to be in his shoes, Tim thought - he was blushing, poor guy. Now he''ll be the object of jokes, friendly or not, depending on who the joker is. Yeah, given the spontaneity and unpredictability of the Red Magic teacher, you''d have to be careful while talking to him. If you say the wrong thing, the consequences can be very unpleasant for you.


    "It would have been funnier if he''d turned him into a girl," Ri-Bo said in a low voice so only his friends could hear. Tiis-Mir, however, heard it, too.


    "Let''s ask the Master to make a copy of Zhu-Fi out of you," she suggested, smiling.


    "No, please!"


    "I don''t want to look like Shin''Ye''Het, either," Mez''A''Shib added.


    Tim was wisely silent. Of course, he didn''t want to become someone else''s copy, not even temporarily.


    Fortunately, Master Saag-Kof was no longer distracted by Blue magic.


    "But let''s get back to the Elements! Who else would like to speak?"


    Among those wishing to demonstrate their talents were Hindag, who made a small whirlpool in the bowl, and Yantau, who dropped a few grains of sand to the floor with a stream of air. Patpako pointed his wand at the machine, and the metal balls on its spokes touched  each other with an electric crackle - it was a Magnetism spell. Shin''Ye''Het''s wand shot out sparks for about a minute, filling the rostrum with them. Tim was going to use Sparks of Flame too, but there was no point now - he was unlikely to do any better. He should prepare something exclusive and effective enough, and not put it off for too long. Preferably for the next lesson - to stand back all the time doesn''t make sense, he has to earn points. He didn''t want to be listed among the laggards and stay here for the entire period of study. The local school is fun, no doubt, but sometimes you want to be at home, too. And why aren''t there any vacations? They are everywhere, even in the military schools, where the boys are taught discipline from childhood!


    "When class is over, don''t run away, there''s important news," Mez''A''Shib whispered to Tim.


    "I''ll have another lesson right after."


    "What''s that?"


    "Teaching literacy to tilfings and orcs."


    "Are you serious or are you kidding?"


    "Absolutely seriously. I suggested it myself at first for Ri-Bo only. But I didn''t expect so many people to volunteer."


    "Well, I''ll drop in just after it," the drow hastened to conclude the conversation so as not to draw attention.


    A couple more of their classmates volunteered after it. Gook-Luk didn''t do so well - the Ring of Fire only showed up in tiny flame petals, which quickly went out, and the teacher advised her to prepare something simpler next time. And Kakh''I''Geg was a complete failure about Foggy Mud, which was followed by a lecture on the subject: a spell that combines the properties of several elements should be left for later, first mastering each of them separately. But the drow did get her point, ''for perseverance in pursuit of her goal''.


    "I can earn points that way, too!" Ri-Bo commented humorously. "Now I learn the formula for Firestorm, and I don''t care if I can''t do it, but I get a point in my pocket!"


    A similar idea seemed to have occurred to Faelinn, who had promised to make a Hot Steam combining Fire and Water. But nothing came of his idea, and he didn''t get a point.


    "Hot Steam?" Master Saag-Kof grinned. "But it''s quite simple! Zeabh toruit llipia ess!"


    The water poured into the bowl sprang forth, then it boiled over in a flash. A cloud of steam rose over the rostrum and drifted up into the rows, settling dewdrops on the desks and students. Only a fraction made it to Tim and his friends, but even that was enough - he had to wipe his face and hands on his uniform. It was like running into a steam room for a minute and popping back out into the fresh air.


    After such an adventure everyone had no desire to demonstrate anything at all. The teacher did not insist - just wished for further success, promising to evaluate them... Well, one day.


    Those who were to learn penmanship were not in a hurry to leave the room, letting the others go ahead. This time they mastered the syllables and put them into words. Tim was heartily pleased with the success of his ''students'' - they were already holding the stylus with much more confidence.


    "Next time we have to consolidate the knowledge gained," he announced with an important look at the end. "One by one I will call the board to make simple sentences. Please, be ready."


    If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    "And we''re always ready!" Shugiz exclaimed mischievously.


    "Well, then you''re welcome to set an example for the others."


    "Nah, I''d rather take a rain check! I''m not really in the mood for this!"


    "Scared?" Rumara grinned. "How, then, were you going to become the Supreme Shaman? Well, watch and learn."


    She stood up and took a decisive step toward the blackboard.


    "Come on, dictate."


    Tim, who had not expected such a turn of events, could think of nothing better than the phrase ''Mommy makes dinner''.


    Rumara made it like ''Umi maiss e tina''.


    I guess I''ll have to pronounce the words more clearly, at least until they have enough vocabulary, Tim thought. Then he corrected the writing.


    "For the first time it''s not bad in principle; I could do worse for the first time," he said diplomatically. Especially considering the fact that some people even after years of study write with mistakes. And if it came to serious writing, it was unlikely that he would be able to make it perfectly either. Especially since he did not have time to learn all the rules of grammar. Fortunately, he wouldn''t need them to write the spells.


    "I want to try it too!" Zhu-Fi jumped up.


    She was asked to act out the phrase ''I sit at my desk''.


    "Can I have my notes? I do not remember how to write the letter ''d''!" the owner of horns with pink bows asked coquettishly.


    How can he forbid it? By and by, with fluttering her eyelashes and asking if the next letter was the right one, Zhu-Fi scribbled down the required text. Tim restrainedly praised her, but advised to learn to write without looking at the notes. After all, none of the Masters would repeat it twice for her.


    As no one else expressed a desire to show off at the blackboard, he had to announce the end of the class. They disagreed on the date of the next one, and Tim, without thinking too much about it, appointed Rumara as his deputy, instructing her to settle the matter and let him know when everyone would be ready.


    On his way out of the classroom Tim called out to Ri-Bo:


    "Hang on a minute, there''s something to do."


    "Mez told he had important information," Tim said hurriedly, when none of their classmates remained around. "There''s a suggestion to discuss it right now. I don''t think anyone''s coming here tonight. Will you fetch Naar-Tam and Mez''A''Shib? I''ll keep watch around... just in case."


    Left alone, Tim made a detailed examination of the second tier. There was no sign of a ladder leading to the third tier, not even a hint that it had ever been there. So there was no way to get up there without levitation. But not all Masters are good at levitation, to say nothing of apprentices! So the only way to get there is through the museum. But why block access to the exhibits when you can simply block the way upstairs? There was no point in trying to force the way in, he was quite sure of it. But perhaps the front door isn''t the only way into the museum. He needs to examine the Main Hall very carefully: irregularities in the walls, strange bulges in the bas-reliefs, and other out-of-context details might indicate the existence of hidden passageways nearby.


    But he had to put it off for later when he heard footsteps coming up the stairs. Fortunately, it was Naar-Tam.


    "And where is Mez?"


    "Ri-Bo went to look for him. Do you happen to know what he wants to tell us?"


    "No, I would like to know, too. All I can guess is that the elixir is ready and we can continue our adventure at any time."


    "And that required a special secrecy regime? He could have just said something like, ''Dinner is ready''. Whoever needed it would have understood it, and the rest wouldn''t need to know!"


    "It''s so, but the details would still have to be discussed in the absence of witnesses. So Mez is absolutely right. By the way, if you''re lucky enough to find the stash in the dungeon, maybe you''ll get lucky again."


    "What do you mean?"


    "It seems to me that the bricked-up entrance isn''t the only way into the museum."


    The peirot got the hint right.


    "Let''s see," he said, studying the walls adjacent to the stairs.


    "I don''t think so," Tim grimaced. "What good would it do to have a back door next to the front door? I suppose if there''s one here, it''s in the Main Hall."


    "That''s true. Let''s go!"


    They had only a partial view of the Main Hall when Ri-Bo and Mez''A''Shib arrived; the latter hid something oblong under his uniform.


    "Now, when we''re all together, what''s your secret?"


    "Better not here. Let''s go to the classroom!"


    Once inside there, the drow headed downstairs.


    "Hey, why not in our seats?" the tilfing called out to him.


    "Too close to the door; if anyone comes near it he''ll be able to hear us standing right outside."


    "Oh right, I didn''t think of that! Then pick the right spot!"


    They sat at the side of the rostrum, on the bundles of dry branches left over from the class (Master Saag-Kof hadn''t thought to take study guides with him), and Mez''A''Shib took out and unwrapped the parcel, which contained three rolled sheets of parchment paper.


    "Rugud found the sketches of the guy who explored the lower tiers before us. The minus first tier, I think, may be put aside - there is nothing fundamentally new compared to what we already know. The minus second tier plan is much more interesting."


    Mez''A''Shib spread out the relevant sheet of paper in front of his friends and poked his finger somewhere on the interlacing of the lines.


    "We took a wrong turn there, and got lost as a result. But now, with the map, it''s easy to find our way out of the maze. From here, there are two paths to the right and to the left. In principle it doesn''t matter which one you choose as they both lead in the same direction - to one more labyrinth, which is not as wide as the first one. Next is the Mirror mentioned by the dwarves. And a few steps away from it is the entrance to the minus third tier."


    "There are some strange markings," Naar-Tam frowned as he leaned over the sheet.


    Tim took a closer look. Indeed, the author of the sketches did not bother with detailed descriptions of the dangers along the way, limiting himself to the words like ''trap'' or ''cliff''. And it is at best - at least it is clear what is to be feared. But what did he mean by ''bridge'' or ''needles''? And ''illusions'' is too vague; there are so many of them! The tunnel where they almost got bogged down in hot tar was simply called ''flypaper''. The good thing is that there were no more ''flypapers'' on the minus second tier. The door they couldn''t move, as it turned out, opened from the outside, and they would have to work hard, too, since that was where the path of strength led. On the opposite side of the maze was another door, beyond which lay the path of nimbleness. Neither the cache nor the ''coin'' were marked -most likely, they simply hadn''t been seen.


    "Nonsense, we''ll figure it out on the spot," Ri-Bo said nonchalantly.


    "By the way, did you notice one thing: the geerkhs had no magic, and the lower tiers are full of magical traps. Isn''t a contradiction here?" Tim remarked ironically.


    "That''s a good point! That didn''t occur to me."


    "It''s strange indeed," Mez''A''Shib said with a thought. "Those without magic can, of course, use enchanted things, but one can feel the hand of an experienced and powerful warlock in this case."


    "May be so," Naar-Tam agreed. "And I thought at first the geerkhs had some sort of grudge against the schoolfellows and wanted revenge."


    "Then they''d have had enough of filling the lower tiers with mechanical traps, like the dwarves do," the drow objected. "They''d be just as effective as magical ones, and no mag-detector would detect them."


    "By the way, has the mag-detector arrived yet?" Tim was interested in.


    "No. Rugud will tell us then. I don''t think we''ll be needing it in the near future. After all, we have a map now! I''ll carefully redraw it and bring the original back."


    "A copy for me, please!" Naar-Tam cheerfully declared.


    "What for? You''re going in alone?"


    "Nope! Just in case!"


    "All right, I''ll make two. If one of them gets lost, we''ll have another..."


    "What''s interesting about the minus three tier?" Ri-Bo interrupted him.


    The map of the corresponding tier was a spiral (a snail''s house, as Tim called it), gradually narrowing toward the center. The central part, alas, was not drawn, remaining a ''blank spot'' - the mapper didn''t get to the minus fourth tier. Either he couldn''t, or he didn''t want to, or he simply didn''t have time - now it''s impossible to determine why.


    "When will the potion be ready?" Naar-Tam became impatient.


    "Soon. By the way, the kobold approved our idea to go in the morning. The dwarves don''t mind either, they have even begun to assemble an ''adventurer''s kit'' for us, or, simply put, a bag of a lot of useful things."


    "That''s great!" Ri-Bo''s eyes lit up. "But we''ll need another bag to collect the crystals."


    He said and he was immediately saddened: he would have to go back to the anzimars tomorrow with another tribute. Last time he had tried to get away with five small balls on the pretext that he couldn''t find anything else, there were too many competitors. He got a slap on the wrist from Hindag along with an order to spend more time on the search. Otherwise, the next time he will hold an ''educational conversation'' with the use of brute physical force. I would have to give them the better crystals, which I did not want to part with, Ri-Bo thought. Okay, after the second visit to the dungeon, their supply should be enough for a long time - unless, of course, he''ll spend them on himself.


    Fortunately, his friends did not notice his mental anguish.


    "You''re the one who''s going to carry him! We''ll do the rest!"


    The discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Rumara, armed with a broom and a rag.


    "Hey, what are you doing here?" She was astonished to see our friends.


    "We''re... inventing a new spell!" Ri-Bo came up and Mez''A''Shib hurriedly rolled the papers back up into a roll.


    "Don''t you have anything better to do? First, study what is described in the books! That should keep you busy for a few years. Well, I''ve got some cleaning to do, so get out of here."


    "What were you punished for?"


    "For bad behavior," the orc girl smiled grimly. "By the way, I wouldn''t recommend going down to the dining room anytime soon. Unless, of course, you want to do community service, too."


    As it turned out, someone had poured water on Mr. Pulsok from the stairs leading to the zero tier. The joker managed to escape, and since he didn''t use magic, it was impossible to trace who it was. And so, enraged, the goblin began pestering the pupils who passed by, asking who might have ''criminal intentions'', and moralizing at the same time. Rumara was one of the others who got in trouble. To the reasoning about how a ''good girl'' should behave, she answered straightforwardly, "Why don''t you go far away, goblin?" This insolence made Pulsok lose his nerve, and Agyg, who tried to grab the ''rascal'', was kicked sensitively. Only the ghosts who came to the rescue managed to ''restore order'', unleashing a whole lot of magic on Rumara. Her body immediately refused to obey, and she began to feel sadness and indifference to her own fate, burdened by a severe guilt complex. But then it got worse: obeying the order, the orc girl approached and knelt in front of the goblin, and then against her will she uttered a request for forgiveness. In a triumphant voice she was offered a choice between three days of solitary confinement and twenty-five hours of community service. After a moment''s hesitation Rumara chose the latter, and as a result she ended up here.


    "That''s cool! I wouldn''t have the guts to do that," Ri-Bo said admiringly.


    "Yes, some goblins take offense at being called goblins," Mez''A''Shib said in a sarcastic tone. "I fear he would not forgive you for such an insult."


    "I don''t give a damn," Rumara answered with a frown. "If it happened on Guldur, I''d smash him against the nearest wall. I hope I get that chance here, too, sooner or later."


    "You''re so bloodthirsty," Naar-Tam grinned.


    "I''d like to see you in such a situation. There is nothing worse than knowing your own powerlessness. Oh, well, if I learn some protective magic, there''ll be a nasty surprise for Pulsok. Now if you''ll excuse me, I have some cleaning to do. And after that, I have to go to Rugud to make arrangements for the rest of my work."


    "If he offers to do the dishes, call us for help!" the peirot suggested half-jokingly.


    "Are you serious? Yeah, I remember, Chilajt once bragged that her friends had helped her to work off all the punishment in one evening. So that were you? Aren''t you afraid I''ll agree?"


    You can''t just retract your own words!


    "It''s not in our habit to be afraid."


    "Well, we''ll see," said Rumara with a grin. "There are a lot of people who can talk with their tongues, but when it comes to business, no one is."


    "Knock on the door of the 28th room when you need to, and you''ll find out if it''s just tongues we use."


    "I''ll take you up on that. And now..."


    The friends got the hint right and without further ado hurried to the exit of the classroom. Tim thought bitterly that he would not be able to visit the library today, because he did not want to get into trouble, so he would have to postpone it until tomorrow.


    "There seems to be something new on the wall," Naar-Tam said as they descended the stairs to his own tier. "I wonder what it''s about? Wow, I think it''s about you, Tim!"


    A few days after arriving at the school, Faelinn had a genius idea: if you want something, why ask everyone you meet about it when you can advertise it? So he got a piece of chalk and drew on the side of the Code of Conduct: ''Who wants to exchange unnecessary fragments of a mosaic with the image of a ship, go to the 37th room''. The classmates liked the idea - similar announcements immediately adorned almost all the free space on the wall of the central hall of the first tier.


    Alas, in addition to purely ''business'' suggestions, there were often inscriptions of an insulting nature, such as ''Lycoses, orcs, gaarshes, and gorgons, out of the school!'', soon followed by ''And drowes (vampires) too!'', and after it - ''Elves are fools!'' There were personal messages like ''Xitati is a crybaby'' or ''Alkitmi is a slob''. Somebody, clearly not lacking in artistic talent, caricatured Shin''Ye''Het''s head and signed it ''Snake in all its glory''. Rumor has it that the drow "princess" was furious and vowed to find the doodler at any cost and to poison his life, both figuratively and literally. From time to time Pulsok gave the command to clear the wall, but soon it would fill up again. There was only one direct message concerning Tim, but what a message! ''Tim + Chilajt = love''. It had to be promptly eliminated, and Ri-Bo, who had brought the news of its appearance, was under suspicion of authorship. It was only when it turned out that the tilfing could not write the suspicion was lifted.


    Tim, who this time expected about the same thing (now with a mention of Selkise), breathed a sigh of relief - it was just ''In the 30th room you will be taught how to write''. But he erased that one, too, just in case.


    "I''ve had enough of the ones I already have," he explained to his friends.

 Chapter 24.

    However, someone had managed to read the inscription before Tim erased it. That same evening Yantau came to visit him.


    "Hi! Is it true that you teach writing?"


    There was no point in denying it, and Tim nodded his head in agreement.


    "Meikli and I want to learn too, because there''s no way to write spells with the signs we know how to use. We''ve tried learning by heart, but, as Master Aerg rightly pointed out, it requires a phenomenal memory."


    Offering his help to Ri-Bo, Tim never expected to have to deal with a whole bunch of his classmates. But it was too late to turn back: to say ''yes'' to one of them and ''no'' to another would mean an undeserved insult to the latter. Or you must have a very good reason for saying no. But Tim didn''t have one.


    "All right, then," he agreed. "But you''ll have to be taught separately at first, because orcs and tilfings have already mastered the alphabet. Find out if anyone else wants to come, and we''ll discuss the details again. And if they are too long to think about it, then according to the principle: you snooze, you lose."


    "I agree. Thank you for not saying ''no''. Meikli said she had seen an ad for your class, but when I went to see it, it was gone. Therefore I decided to visit you and clarify the situation."


    "You were not mistaken," Tim confirmed dryly, letting him know that the audience was over. The lycos, however, were in no hurry to leave.


    "I''m terribly sorry, but may I ask you for one more thing?"


    "As long as it''s not to the detriment of my health and doesn''t take too much time."


    "Just a little bit, and it doesn''t hurt you at all. I just want to try a spell on you."


    "On me? Thank you, I''d rather not."


    "I''m sorry, I didn''t put it quite right," Yantau said, embarrassed, "the spell I actually apply to myself, but only someone else can evaluate the result of its action."


    "Well, that''s another matter. What spell you want to cast?"


    "Eyes Away. It''s interesting to know if I really am becoming invisible."


    "Let''s see if you can do it."


    Aiming the wand at his head, the lykos carefully recited the formula. The outline of his figure became slightly blurred for a moment, but there was no further visible change.


    "Can you see me?" without waiting for a reaction from Tim, Yantau asked.


    "No worse than before. But the theory is said that you should still be visible at Eyes Away action. People around you just lose the desire to look at you."


    "Have you lost it?"


    "It wasn''t particularly strong," Tim answered humorously. "But at least it hasn''t weakened."


    Yantau grimaced a little.


    "So it did not work. That''s a pity."


    "Maybe it would have worked if I hadn''t known beforehand. I guess you''re lucky if you walk past a crowd of people and no one notices you."


    "I''ll give it a try. Thanks again!"


    After that he left, and Tim breathed a sigh of relief. No, it wasn''t that he didn''t like the lycos, he was just a little tired. He had too much to talk about today, he needed some time alone. In similar situations on Earth he simply locked himself in his room, turned off his cell phone, and his parents tried not to disturb him for no particular reason. If someone knocked on the door right now, he wouldn''t even open it. Let them think: either he is not here, or meditating. By the way, it''s not a bad idea to put some sort of plaque on the door that says ''do not disturb, meditation in progress''. I''ll have to get to work on it sometime, Tim thought.


    Once he had recovered a little, he decided to concentrate on the upcoming Mind Magic class. Or rather, to prepare for it a spell worth at least a couple of points. Pulling from the shelf a thick manuscript detailing the wisdom of this kind of magic (Khalid-amga had strongly recommended it - old, but expertly written and not difficult for even very young wizards to master), Tim almost dropped it in the air. Fortunately, it didn''t crumble from its dilapidated state (perhaps a strengthening spell has been cast on it), only one of the pages had fallen out and was now lying on the floor. Though no, it wasn''t a page from a textbook at all, but rather a torn sheet from a grimoire, and folded in four at a time. Curious, Tim picked it up and unfolded it. It was a course schedule! It looked like something similar to that hanging on the doorstep of their classroom, but when he looked closely... Well, who''s stopping us from putting it up here in its entirety?


    The schedule for the fifth month of the year 2256th from the founding of the school.


    Day 1 - Citron Eye - History of Magic. The emergence of the Ring of Worlds.


    Day 2 - Yellow-Orange Eye - Mind, Mentoscopy.


    Day 3 - Smaragdine Eye - Mathemagic.


    Pink Eye - Enchantment. Strengthening with incrustations.


    Day 4 -


    Day 5 -


    Day 6 - Smaragdine Eye - Druidism. Control and subjugation of magical creatures.


    Orange Eye - Light. Healing of fractures.


    Day 7 - Citron Eye - Elementalism.


    Day 8 - Light-Green Eye - Alchemy, practice.


    Day 9 - Citron Eye - The Elements. Etheric amplification.


    Day 10 - Orange Eye - History of magic. Shamanism.


    Day 11 -


    Day 12 -


    Day 13 -


    Day 14 - Citron Eye - Twilight. The theory of the Curses.


    Pink Eye - Conversations about the structure of the Universe.


    Day 15 - Yellow-Orange Eye - The Looking Glass.


    Day 16 - Smaragdine Eye - Spirit. Telekinesis, exercise in pairs.


    Orange Eye - Enchantment. Combination of symbols.


    Day 17 - -Yellow-Orange Eye - Transformations. The limits of changing the essence of things.


    You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.


    Day 18 -


    Day 19 -


    Day 20 - Citron Eye - Druidism, a test assignment.


    Day 21 - Citron Eye - History of Magic. The great sorcerers of the past.


    Pink Eye - The Elements. Multi-elemental magic.


    Day 22 - Orange Eye - Light. Repelling undead.


    Day 23 - Yellow-Orange Eye - Mind. Positive Influence Charms.


    Day 24 -


    Day 25 - Light-Green Eye - Alchemy, a test assignment.


    It turns out that five hundred years ago students studied many more subjects than they do now! Among them alchemy (a kobold would surely have agreed to become their teacher), enchantment (the essence of which is roughly imagined from the experience of computer games), elementalism (it is not quite clear what is meant by this, although the concept of the Elementals is already obtained), mathemagic (what can magic have to do with mathematics?), and the Looking Glass (for some reason Tim remembered the story about Alice at once). Three classes on the history of magic! And for them, they didn''t even bother to read the introductory course. Or talks about the structure of the Universe - Tim would have loved to take part in them, he would surely have learned a lot. Where was the progress that the Principal boasted about the day they arrived at the school?


    And one more thing: the voice coming from the cube was not that of an old man. Did Master Ven''A''Sash really deceive them, but what for? What difference does it make to the pupils if the Principal is young or old, if he is kind and attentive to them? There is something behind that. But what is it?


    Tim suddenly felt a great urge to discuss his suspicions with someone. Of course, he couldn''t tell the first person he met about them. From among his friends he had to choose someone who wouldn''t twist a finger at the temple and advise him to relax and put the ''nonsense'' out of his mind. And preferably one who would be able to advise him on something sensible. Mez''A''Shib was best suited for that, and Tim was about to pay him a visit when he heard footsteps in the corridor. He didn''t want to show anyone this sheet so he decided to wait a little. It may be better to invite the drow here tomorrow, Tim thought. He may not be home right now.


    Mez''A''Shib indeed wasn''t at his room; he''d waited until Pulsok and his bodyguards had calmed down and left, and then he''d gone into the woods. As he believed, after the goblin''s ''soul-saving conversations'' few would venture out. And, accordingly, no one would interfere with the gathering of the next batch of ingredients for the kobold. Moreover, he wished to look around that glade of withered grass once more time. What if there was a clue as to who had worked magic on it and why?


    But he couldn''t reach his destination, for there were voices ahead of him and Mez''A''Shib had to hide under a nearby tree. Then he moved noiselessly to the next tree where he could see as well as hear those who said. What was his surprise when they were his countrywomen!


    "...so where is he? How much longer are we going to be stuck here?" Shin''Ye''Het was clearly not in the best of moods.


    "Relax, Shin, he''ll be here," Kakh''I''Geg pronounced with a touch of subservience. "He knows how dangerous it is to have you as an enemy."


    Mez''A''Shib''s ears perked up. He wondered for whom the ''princess'' was out in the woods at night. No one takes a friend on a date, so it''s strictly business. And the ''other party'' must have a very good reason for it - the First Daughter wouldn''t lift a finger over nothing.


    "All right, let''s wait a little longer. I don''t like it, though. On Galhiri, those who tried my patience were then brought up with sticks and whips. And if it was any of the boys, I''d take the whip myself. Do you know what kind of whip I had at home? Pure gold, with eight tails, and a dozen sharp spikes at the end of each. One blow and blood all over his back. It''s beautiful. I still wish I''d brought it here."


    "What if we made it ourselves? I''m not sure about the gold, but everything else is realistic."


    "Go ahead, then."


    "Why me? Let Nhel''Yu''Min do it, she''s got nothing better to do. By the way, where is she?"


    "I thought she was here... Nhel, where are you!?"


    "I''m here. Just crouched under a bush for a while," was heard from somewhere on the other side.


    "You''re a pisser. And since you got us all excited, you''ll have a small but responsible task: to make a whip out of the materials at hand. Such one that serves long and hurts!"


    "But I do not know how!"


    "If you can''t, we''ll teach; if you don''t want, we''ll make you. Or do you think I should do it myself?"


    "Of course not, Shin, because whips are made by servants!"


    "Alas, there are none here. However, if you find a suitable candidate, we will try to ''persuade'' him."


    "I have a suggestion," Kakh''I''Geg voiced. "There''s a drow here who deals with inferior races and is a bit odd. They must have been too soft on him back home. I think we can fill that gap."


    "You mean Mez, don''t you?"


    "Well, who else would I be talking about?"


    Mez''A''Shib clenched his fists in anger. They won''t get him. He''s had enough of ''homeschoolers''. He won''t allow anyone else to make fun of him!


    "And if he rebelled, what would you do?"


    "Then you''ll do to him what you did to that grass!"


    "How many times do I have to tell you, it wasn''t me!" Shin''Ye''Het was furious. "My gift, Black Venom, is not for stupid plants! Only for those who annoy me! So count to fifty, Kakh. If he doesn''t show, you''ll see how my gift works."


    "Can I add mine one?" Nhel''Yu''Min said flatteringly. "Let him writhe in pain!"


    And then Mez''A''Shib made a mistake: burning with desire to know who they were so eager to see, he stepped forward and stepped on a dry branch that snapped in half with a crack.


    "Who is here?" all three girls immediately tensed.


    There was no point in hiding now, no point in staying where he was. Mez''A''Shib darted in the opposite direction from the trio and headed for the entrance to the school. Someone was approaching; most likely ''he'', but a face-to-face encounter with him was not exactly what the drow had in mind. And so, having made a detour and made sure there was no chase, with a spurt he overcame the last meters of the course. It wasn''t until he was in the tunnel that Mez''A''Shib could relax and catch his breath. It was a pity, of course, that an unfortunate oversight prevented him from finding out what that "summit" had been about. The one who organized it played with fire... or scheming something disgusting, both bad and despicable, that would surely interest the ''princess''. Apart from Zur''U''Fes, there are no other guys from his people here, but she wouldn''t go into the woods for Zur''s sake, she wouldn''t even go out of her room. No, it was someone else; what a pity, he could never find out who it was. But there was no point in going into the woods again, it wasn''t safe now. The best thing to do was to go back to his room and pretend as if he hadn''t left it.


    In the meantime, Tim hid the sheet with the course schedule he had found in the wardrobe under the bedclothes and began to study the sections of the Mind Magic textbook. There were more than enough spells in it, as they say, for all tastes and colors, but most of them, for one reason or another, were not suitable for him yet. After scrolling through almost half of the textbook, he found a magic that was both practical and accessible even to neophytes. Without much thought, Tim transcribed the formula into his grimoire. With any luck, no one else would guess the same thing.


    Reaching for his textbook again, Tim sensed that someone was at the door. No more footsteps were heard, just the sensation of the presence of a person, obviously not a ghost. But why doesn''t he knock and ask to open the door? Trying to eavesdrop? But why? There was no one here but Tim, and he didn''t seem to be in the habit of talking to himself. Two opposing feelings struggled within him: fear, urging him to keep a low profile and not reveal himself until the uninvited guest had gone, and curiosity, urging him to find out who this guest was. Curiosity won out in the end, and Tim opened the door. Behind it was his roommate from the 26th room. That was the person Tim least expected to see - the gaarsh never visited or invited anyone to his room. So, apart from the fact that his name was Ashshaat, they knew essentially nothing else about him.


    "I''m sorry," he said.


    "What for?" Tim asked mechanically, waiting for it to continue.


    "I tried to test your ability to thoughtspeech, and mentally asked permission to be your guest. I got no answer, but since the door opened, you heard me."


    What a day it is today, everyone is trying to experiment on him, Tim sighed.


    "Actually, I just sensed that there was someone outside. Well, if you''re here, come in, please."


    "Thank you," Ashshaat bowed ceremoniously, pressing his hand to his chest.


    Once inside the room, the gaarsh apologized again.


    "May I borrow your Mind Magic textbook, just until morning?"


    "Why didn''t you get your own?"


    "Why, I borrowed it from the library. But under the cover was a completely different book that had nothing to do with the magic of the Mind. Someone must have made such an original joke. It was late today, or I would have gone to exchange it. I''ll definitely do it tomorrow."


    "But I actually need a textbook myself..."


    "At least until the blue eye! I''ll be sure to return it!"


    The blue eye will be lit in about three hours. He can''t sit that long, his fatigue is already taking its toll, Tim thought. The prospect of being awakened in the middle of the night doesn''t warm him up either. On the other hand, how can you refuse when they look at you almost as if you are the last hope?


    "All right, you can have it till morning. But I''ll ask you for something in return."


    "What is it?"


    "Can you tell me a little bit about dragons?"


    "What exactly do you want to know?" after a moment''s hesitation, the gaarsh asked.


    "What are they really like?"


    The story of the winged lizards went on for a long time - every now and then Tim had to ask leading questions. As it turned out, there are a lot of dragons, and they''re all different. Some are peaceful and friendly, and some are angry and aggressive. The smallest are about the size of Ashshaat himself, and the largest are about the size of a two-story house. They communicate with each other and with the gaarches through thoughtspeech (telepathy, Tim realized). Their behavior and attitude depend primarily on the color of their skin. The most dangerous are black dragons, ruthless carnivores that would attack even their own kind. A meeting with a red dragon may be unpleasant, too - they often stay in a bad mood because of suspicion that someone tries to steal their treasures (even if no one around has such thoughts). Blue dragons are the only dragons that can not only fly, but also swim, and even dive to hunt for fish. White ones are very clever, they know many legends and tales of events that happened thousands of years ago, and they will gladly tell you about them, if you ask them respectfully, of course. Yellows are able to stay in the air longer than anyone else without landing to rest, and therefore love to travel. It is said that some of them have even been to other worlds. And finally, the green dragons are the most numerous and industrious; in the mountain valleys they grow edible plants and even raise cattle - stupid flightless lizards named wirrishshch. Using the terminology familiar to earthlings, between dragons and the gaarches is ''peaceful coexistence'', and in some places even ''fruitful cooperation''. For example, dragons like very much gold jewelry, but they cannot make them - only to mine ore with inclusions of precious metal or precious stones. In return, they share some of their spoils and help fend off ushaarhes, reptiles that resemble enormous crocodiles standing on their hind legs, from the settlements of the gaarches. If you befriend a dragon, it will allow you to ride him, and there are those who fly dragons in Ashshaat''s tribe. Ashshaat himself does not yet have such a friend, but after school he will try to get one.


    At the same time, Tim found out what the notorious dragon''s breath was. It turned out to be a special kind of magic, inherent in winged lizards since ancient times. Black dragons spew a poison cloud (they''re insensitive to their own venom), red ones spew a stream of fire, blue dragons freeze everything around them, and green ones spray acid. The white dragons can hypnotize you with their gaze. And the yellow ones use a kind of magic hammer that knocks an enemy down and throws him back, breaking his limbs in an especially hard blow.


    They talked for a long time - a little more, and the blue eye would light up.  Now it is unlikely that Ashshaat will have time to return the book to him before class begins. Fortunately, that formula will suffice. Such a long story about dragons is worth something, too!

 Chapter 25.

    The first visitor of the morning, however, was not the gaarsh.


    "Come quickly!" without even entering the room, Ri-Bo hurried him from the threshold.


    "What happened?"


    "You''re about to see something!"


    The tilfing refused to say what it was, or else it wouldn''t be interesting. And Tim got dressed and ran after him.


    The surprise was indeed an excellent one, and more than a dozen of their classmates had already appreciated it. On the wall, right on top of the school Code of Conduct, was a picture of Sir Pulsok, with his eyes goggling, his hooked nose up to his chin, a whip in one hand, and a broom in the other. Judging by the manner of execution, it was the same artist, only this time he used poison-green paint instead of chalk (it''s wonder where he got it?). More and more people came to see what he had done, and there was already a lot of discussion about how long it would last and what else can be added to this. Tim noticed that Nhel''Yu''Min, who had gone away for a while, came back with a grimoire and began painstakingly working on it with a stylus.


    "Hey, Nhel, are you redrawing Pulsok for your memory?" Gook-Luk mischievously called out to her.


    "Why not?" the drow answered in tone, continuing her occupation.


    "Come on, it will be something to remember a hundred years from now!"


    The merrymaking was interrupted by the thumping of huge feet from below.


    "Agyg comes here! Run for your lives!"


    The pupils, and among them our friends, immediately scattered, seeking shelter in their own rooms. As they all knew, Agyg doesn''t roam around the school alone, only with the goblin. The rest of the time he sits in his room next to the dining room (at the very end of the tunnel leading to it). The choice of location is obvious - the ogre loves to eat, and it''s easier to provide him with kitchen magic than to let him wander back and forth, terrifying the schoolchildren. But where Sir Pulsok''s own apartments were located was a big mystery - the goblin appeared out of nowhere and disappeared into nowhere. Probably in the same place as their teachers, Tim surmised, or next door to the Principal, since he was his underling. I wish I could visit the Principal''s office, there must be a lot of interesting things there, at some point Tim thought.


    You''ll get there, the same voice whispered snidely in his ear. Tim shook his head irritably, pushing the obsession away. The Principal''s office is not summoned for no reason, only on special occasions. And most often for a reprimand for bad behavior. At least, that''s how it is on Earth. Here he had never heard of anyone being summoned there. What if the Principal is simply misanthropic and doesn''t want to see anyone? That''s an option, too, isn''t it? Tim was interested in if misanthropy can be cured by magic. And what defects and vices can be corrected with it. Or will the effect be only temporary, and the true nature will sooner or later reveal itself anyway? Tim had never thought about it before, but now he would have something to think about! For example, you don''t like the fact that your friend makes promises generously, but is in no hurry to fulfill them. A few mysterious words, a push of a button, and you can''t find a more responsible friend in the whole neighborhood! Or a certain person, who is not very nice to talk to, likes to bully those who are weaker and generally behaves too aggressively. Hit him on the head with a wand, and he will become more humble than a sheep. Then there will be an era of universal prosperity!


    Soon, however, the pendulum swung back the other way, and euphoria was replaced by frustration. What if the magic won''t work right? Or the effect will be too strong? And then the friend will become so responsible that he''ll start controlling others. And that person will be incapable of standing up even for himself. No, this is no place for haste here, it is better to remember the principle: measure seven times, and only then cut. By the way, there is another question: how to dose the power of a spell so that the effect would be optimal?


    A visit from his friends prevented him from exhausting himself with such not at all childish reflections.


    "Let''s go to breakfast; it''s all over in there!"


    And indeed, Sir Pulsok''s ''portrait'' was no longer on the wall. Strange that the goblin himself wasn''t either, Tim wondered - logically he should be here, prying out the culprits. Probably he distracted by other matters.


    Mez''A''Shib joined them in the dining room, where they occupied a table away from the others as usual. The conversation naturally turned to the matter of what punishment awaited the artist when he would be caught.


    "He''ll be staked," Tim joked, trying to keep a serious expression on his face.


    "You''re a sadist, though! Do you really have this kind of practice!?"


    "It happened a few centuries ago. Whoever did not please a king for some reason. Sometimes for no reason at all - just got caught when the king was in a bad mood. But there is no such thing now," Tim added hastily, fearing his friends would misunderstand him. Especially Naar-Tam, for whom the worst punishment is banishment for life. Judging by his reaction, he didn''t think that was even possible.


    "I wish it will be true of a particularly evil anzimar," Ri-Bo''s eyes lit up.


    "Well, in the lands of the drowes you wouldn''t surprise anyone with such methods," Mez''A''Shib smiled indulgently. "Our executioners know dozens of ways to kill the unwanted, and such ones where you will be subjected to unbearable torture to begin with. But it''s better not to talk about it during the meal. Let''s get back to his work. None of you know who he is, do you?"


    "No!" replied Tim, Ri-Bo, and Naar-Tam.


    "Probably one of the elves," the tilfing suggested.


    "We, peirots, can draw, too!" Naar-Tam made a hurt look on his face but immediately laughed.


    "Fortunately, there are many who can. Otherwise that artist would have been captured by now. The most logical from a magical point of view would be to treat us all with the True Speech spell - under its influence it is impossible to lie. But it''s likely that Pulsok is forbidden to use it."


    "Otherwise we wouldn''t be sitting here right now."


    "Right. We would have been waiting to be called in for questioning. The drowes have ''inquisitors'' for cases like that. That is, sorcerers who are skilled at finding the guilty - they can get everything you know, and even what you don''t know. Luckily, school administration didn''t think of hiring any of them. No, the goblin would act differently. Did you see what Nhel''Yu''Min was doing?"


    "Yeah. Making a copy of that ''portrait'' for some reason."


    "That''s what Gook-Luk assumed, and Nhel simply wouldn''t deny it. In fact, she hadn''t been drawing, she''d been writing. She kept the grimoire out of sight, so no one could see what she was writing."


    "What was there to write?"


    "Well, for example, the names of those who, in adult terms, were disrespectful to ''Sir'' Pulsok."


    "That''s ridiculous. Was there anyone there who was respectful to Pulsok?"


    "So we''re all blacklisted now. Nhel must have given it to the goblin by now." Tim summed up.


    "Probably not directly, but through Shin. They''re obviously up to something. Now, listen," and Mez''A''Shib told them of his adventure in the forest yesterday. "Well, be careful. I''ll try to get details if I can."


    He didn''t have time to add anything else - the ''princess'' and her ''entourage'' appeared in the dining room (speak of the devil!). Something is about to happen, Tim thought. And sure enough: not a minute later, Kakh''I''Geg came to their table.


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    "Shin''Ye''Het wishes to speak to you," she said to Mez''A''Shib with a commanding tone in her voice.


    "Is that all she wants?" he retorted sarcastically.


    "How dare you say that! You ought to show her some respect, she''s the First Daughter!"


    "Even if she were Zero one. If she has something to say, let her come and say it, not send a maid to take her place."


    "I am not a servant girl!" Kakh''I''Geg shrieked, almost clutching Mez''A''Shib''s hair in a fury. But when she realized that she was drawing attention to herself (except the drow girls there were a dozen their classmates in the dining room, and they were all staring at her with curiosity), she added a tone or two lower:


    "You will not get away with it."


    "It''s okay, I''ll get over it somehow. Well, give your mistress my warmest regards!"


    Unable to find an answer, Kakh''I''Geg went back to her countrywomen who had heard most or all of what had been said. Tim and his friends lost the urge to continue eating breakfast, especially since most of the food had already been consumed. There was nothing to do but leave the dining room together and continue the discussion outside.


    "Why is Kakh acting as if she has really been hired as a servant?" Naar-Tam was puzzled. "Isn''t she disgusted with being an errand girl?"


    "It must be disgusting," Mez''A''Shib said indifferently. "But not for nothing, almost certainly for patronage in the future. After all, neither Kakh''I''Geg nor Nhel''Yu''Min have anything to look forward to in terms of life prospects: Kakh''I''Geg is a Niece of the 19th House, Nhel is only a Stepdaughter of the 24th one. And who wants to be in a third role, both in his House and in society? But if you''re in favor with the Mother of one of the ruling Houses, that''s a whole other thing! Then you will have a good life and if you are lucky you will be able to be the head of your own House!"


    "Wouldn''t learning magic change anything?" Ri-Bo asked incredulously.


    "Not really. We have enough wizards of our own, you have to prove that you''re worth something too. It''s a lot easier to have a high-ranking patron, isn''t it?"


    "Aren''t you afraid of their revenge?" Tim asked anxiously, worried about his friend.


    "I tired of being afraid. If not invited to school, sooner or later I would have run away from my home. It''s hard to say whether or not I would have made it to Free Town, but at least I would have a little break from domestic tyranny."


    "We are always with you, remember it!" Naar-Tam encouraged him.


    "Thank you, but we must hurry, there isn''t much time before a class."


    In fact, there was still plenty of time, just Mez''A''Shib was somewhat nervous. So they didn''t argue.


    "Let''s see who has how many points now!" Ri-Bo suggested.


    And see if we can find the hidden passages, Tim thought. But when they got to the Main Hall, it turned out that Ri-Bo wasn''t the only one who had such an idea. Three girls, standing at the board with the names, were arguing about why some pupils had more points than others, and how right that was.


    "Yumial has two points more than I do, why?" Parial exclaimed angrily. "We had the same number of the points in class!"


    "Strange indeed," Gook-Luk agreed.


    "It is not strange," Jaamite protested. "Then, during the raid, you were caught and she was not. Hence the difference."


    "Why didn''t they caught her? That''s not fair!"


    "If you hadn''t been out in the woods at night, you wouldn''t have been caught, too."


    "Fine, I''ll do without it. Oh, I think we''ve got company!"


    The last phrase of Parial, who noticed the appearance of the four friends, meant, in essence, ''Cut the blab, we''re not the only ones here''. The conversation, of course, ceased immediately, and the girls stepped aside to make way for the blackboard. And then they walked leisurely toward the exit, where continued their discussion.


    Tim''s accomplishments were modest, as he had anticipated: a single point, given by Master Saag-Kof. His friends were no better off - three points for Naar-Tam (Master Nimikel appreciated his efforts in sprouting ultia), one point for Mez''A''Shib, and Ri-Bo was in minus. But Germeht had twenty-four points! For what achievements, the question is? He simply had no time to earn them. And the other anzimars, with the exception of Virda, have an unusually high rating. Is it possible that one of the teachers secretly indulges them? This fact was also noticed by his friends.


    "It''s possible that Master Aerg has a soft spot for his countrymen."


    "Strange, he seemed a bit too harsh for that," Tim hesitated.


    "None of us are made of iron, we all have our little foibles," Mez''A''Shib said ironically.


    "We don''t ask blue-eyed ones why they''re so lucky, do we?"


    "Why not? You can ask them!"


    "No, no, not me," Ri-Bo muttered. The thought of anzimars shrank inside him with fear, and he couldn''t help himself. Yes, you have to learn to overcome your fears, but how can you do that when there are three of them and they are so much stronger?


    "Relax, they won''t tell," Naar-Tam laughed. "Who in the right mind would admit to earning points through dishonest means? Let''s visit here regularly, especially after Light Magic class. Then we''ll know exactly where the prize points come from!"


    So that was settled, and then they went straight to class. There were not many people in the classroom - there was still some time before the beginning. But Master Iskitt was already there, explaining to Taeron the difference between Berserk and Heroism spells.


    "Yes, absolutely right, the formulas are similar, and in their action there are many similarities, but there are also differences. The Berserk transforms a warrior into a truly invincible champion, capable of fighting a dozen opponents single-handedly. However, the warrior''s sense of self-preservation is lost - even if he sees an arrow flying towards him, he doesn''t dodge it or try to fight it off with his shield, because magic also grants him insensitivity to pain. However, if that arrow disables his arm, he will no longer be able to hold his weapon. And the outcome of the battle after that is, alas, predetermined. Heroism affects the mind rather than the body - the warrior bravely goes into battle without suffering from fears and doubts. He may not fight as furiously as berserk, but he does not lose his sense of danger. You see the difference?"


    Taeron nodded.


    "Usually it''s the kind of wizardry that interests those who aspire to be battle wizards," the teacher went on thoughtfully. "But as far as I know, there have been no great battles in your world where warlocks can prove themselves."


    "No big ones, but there have been minor skirmishes. That is why I think that it is also necessary to study this section of sorcery, in case it will come in handy."


    "Or, as they say in our lands, if you want peace, prepare for war," added Tim, who became interested in the discussion and came closer.


    "That''s a very good point!" Master Iskitt admired, raising his index finger. "It is true that the history of many nations is an alternation of wars and periods of relative peace. When no ruler could be certain that enemies would not strike tomorrow, a warlock who could change the course of battle was worth his weight in gold. Let me note in passing that the terms ''battle magic'' and ''battle mage'' are not entirely accurate, although they are common even among the Grand Masters: there are spells that can be useful on the battlefield in almost every branch of sorcery. You might as well sic a wild animal on your opponent, rain fire on him, put him on the run with Horror, or make him suffer from epilepsy. And when there''s demand, there will be also supply: a young wizard who has mastered at least the basics of spells useful in battle won''t be left without a job. But remember, there are two sides to every coin. A mage on the battlefield is a desirable target for enemy archers and sorcerers."


    "So, in addition to attacking magic, you must also know defense magic," Patpako summed up.


    "That''s right! There''s plenty to choose from, too. You can hide yourself with Invisibility, and only a warlock with Infravision will be able to see you. With Distorted Perception you won''t be seen where you really are. All sorts of illusions can confuse the enemy, too. And to be on the safe side, it''s a good idea to put up a Shield in front of you. There are a lot of types of Shields, the main thing is the right choice. After all, something that will protect from magic will be powerless against weapons, and vice versa. Alas, no one has invented a universal protection yet."


    "We will invent one!" Naar-Tam and his countryman Ruum-Fib exclaimed cheerfully.


    Tim looked around. The pupils were gradually arriving, more than half of his classmates were already in the classroom. And no one was in a hurry to sit at his desk, preferring to crowd around the rostrum. It was about time to demonstrate the effect of the spell which he found yesterday in the textbook, especially since it''s just on the topic of discussion.


    "Can this kind of magic be considered defensive? Disift fieszt dikr!" he exclaimed excitedly and pressed the bulge on the surface of his wand.


    A slight haze of lilac mist hung over the audience and... nothing more.


    "What was that?" the classmates looked around in astonishment, "come on, tell us, what was it?"


    Master Iskitt''s eyes lit up with interest.


    "Whoever guesses what kind of sorcery your fellow used, will get as many points as he does!"


    Assumptions poured in from all sides, but they were all far from the truth. The teacher had to explain.


    "This spell, that is called Silence, actually relates to the subject we are studying only conventionally; it refers rather to the properties of magic itself. As long as it''s active, no other magic can be activated. In this way, you can protect yourself from a sorcerer who is about to try some very unpleasant spells on you. Remember, however, that you yourself cannot conjure until its effect is over!"


    The lilac fog had dissipated by the time the last words were spoken, but that didn''t matter any longer: Master Iskitt had given Tim four points to his efforts! And, making sure there were enough pupils for the class to begin, he asked everyone to take their seats.


    The rest was not important to Tim, for he had achieved his goal. The more often he surprises his teachers, the more points he earns. Not a bad strategy for ''career advancement''. After all, as he had expected, today''s performances consisted exclusively of demonstrations of various illusions, not very clear and often not similar to the original (if they turned out at all). The best score was only two points, and he could hardly have gotten more if he had gone the beaten path.


    Maybe it makes sense to prepare some funny curse for Twilight Magic class, too?

 Chapter 26.

    "Alas, my young friend, I have not yet been able to find additional literature for you!"


    The librarian''s voice was full of genuine regret, and Tim had no choice but to reassure him with the statement that it was all right, it would be found later, and now it''s about something else entirely.


    "Khalid-amga, I''m very interested in what the clones who replace us for the duration of our studies are like. The Principal mentioned them when we arrived, but he didn''t give us any details. It would have taken a lot of magic to create them, wouldn''t it?"


    "Oh, of course!" the librarian cheered up at once. "And because you were not the only one concerned with this question, there were several pamphlets published at one time under the title: ''The Clones: Our Faithful Friends and Dependable Helpers''. You will find everything there about them!"


    "Thank you very much! But I also want to ask about the museum: when will it be open? My friends and I would love to see the rarities here!"


    "Isn''t it open yet?" the old man wondered. "Sir Pulsok seemed to have said a year or two ago that everything was all right and the fence was about to be pulled down. There must have been complications."


    "But what happened there, anyway?"


    "Strange phenomena seemed to happen there, and even one of the students disappeared. And since the source of the anomaly couldn''t be found, to avoid other accidents they decided to brick up the door there."


    "That''s weird. I thought the teachers here could solve any problem related to sorcery."


    "Alas, none of us is perfect, and some charades can take decades to solve! And it immediately reminds me of Great Master Gleuot, who, not long before his death, sealed the entrance to his private office with a very complexly configured magical seal. It could only be broken on a certain day of the month, and only with the help of magic that bordered on Light and Dark at the same time. Furthermore, the person who ventured to do so must be dressed in the right color clothes. The heirs who had come into possession of the treasure, - the Great Master was by no means poor! - had a lot of trouble figuring out how to get in. They had no trouble finding the right color, for the deceased loved to wear a purple gown. Finding the right spell was more difficult - who would have thought that the Great Master meant the Rainbow? The day was determined at random, and only later it turned out that it was the day that Gleuot had graduated from Duillond Academy. Do you see how difficult it can be to deal with magic you don''t know at all?"


    "Why didn''t they try to open the door directly, by, so to speak, brute physical force?"


    "You can''t do that under any circumstances! If the seal had been activated, the whole house could blow up, burying all its inhabitants under the rubble. Or all living things around could be poisoned. Or the contents of the office might disappear in an unknown direction. That was why no one wanted to take the risk. Usually such seals are broken by experienced sorcerers, but there were none of them nearby at that moment, they had to invite one in from the outside. And all the same, it was a lot of trouble."


    "It makes sense: what would magic be worth if any newcomer could undo its effects? It''s possible that one of the exhibits was enchanted with something very unhealthy, which is why access had to be blocked. But then why was it there at all? If I were a museum curator, I''d never have put something like that for all to see. Just as a zookeeper would never take in an animal that could break the fence and attack visitors. Isn''t even the Principal capable of putting the place in order? After all, to take that position, he must be a strong enough wizard, mustn''t he?"


    "Oh yes, of course!" After a moment''s hesitation, the librarian readily agreed.


    "What kind of magic does he specialize in?"


    This time the pause lasted much longer. Khalid-amga''s confusion was reminiscent of a computer freeze - when the processor is unable to process the information received and starts to run it in circles, ignoring the rest of the action.


    "The Principal is equally proficient in the basics of all areas of sorcery," the solution was finally found.


    Tim didn''t question his words - maybe it was true. Although it was clear that the old man simply did not know the answer, he was too shy to admit it. If it were Tim, he would also try to get out of it, just to keep his face clean in front of the boy. Therefore he refrained from further questioning, and turned the conversation in a different direction.


    "Last time you mentioned worlds that are not magical, but their representatives are capable of mastering magic and are therefore invited to the school. But then what is the difference between magical and non-magical worlds? Or am I missing something?"


    "Well, if none of the teachers have discussed this with you, I will try to do so. How do you think magic comes into the world? In the beginning, life appears on a planet with the right conditions, then - sentient beings capable of dreaming and fantasy. It is the ability to believe in a miracle that attracts streams of magical energy, enabling enchantment. And finally, the concentration of mana reaches a level when miracles happen on their own, without anyone''s intervention (just like in a fairy tale, Tim thought). The lycoses and gorgons worlds just haven''t reached that stage yet, but sooner or later they will become magical."


    "Here," Tim pointed to the books he''d taken last time and now brought back, "it was said that magic once ruled my world, too. But then something inexplicable happened, and the wizards lost their power. And now we have no wizards who can make it rain on a clear, sunny day, or bring a dying man back to life with a wave of their wands. In the travel notes of Maelg, who visited Earth several times, there was mention of the Betsagoni''s curse. Can you tell me what it is?"


    "I only remember part of it verbatim," Khalid-amga frowned. "I believe it went something like this: ''...they shall ride in iron wagons, blowing smoke; steel birds shall fly in the sky, and they shall make weapons, a single shot from which shall burn a city to the ground; the earth and water and air shall be poisoned, and cause much suffering; and then there shall be creatures not made of flesh...''.  The meaning of the curse is that if magic were to leave the world, sooner or later its inhabitants would be held captive by mechanisms marvelous and monstrous at the same time. Has your world suffered the same fate?"


    The door at the back opened silently, letting two people in, but Tim didn''t notice, too caught up in the conversation.


    "Looks like it. At any rate, we have a lot of different mechanisms. But why did magic suddenly leave our world?"


    "It''s possible if its inhabitants stop believing in miracles, refuse to learn magic, and expel wizards from their society. Yes, yes, I don''t argue, it''s hard to believe that, but the worlds from which magic has left do exist!"


    The fact that today''s earthlings don''t really believe in miracles is undeniable; only very young children (and not all of them) can be carried away by fairy tales. But that is rather a consequence, as is the Industrial Revolution, which has replaced the age of magic. The reason was something else, because, according to Maelg, no one on Earth had given up sorcery, and it continued to be taught, though less and less successfully.


    "And then how do we fight it? Or is there nothing we can do about it?"


    "Perhaps there are remedies," Khalid-amga frowned again. "I''ll have to look in the books on magic theory. Oh, I think we have more visitors!"


    Tim turned around to find Gook-Luk and Patpako behind him.


    "Sorry, we didn''t mean to interrupt your conversation," Patpako smiled embarrassedly. "You were discussing very interesting things!"


    "Has your world really lost its magic?" unlike his companion Gook-Luk felt no embarrassment. "It''s cool! But since you''re here, all is not lost!"


    "Maybe," Tim agreed dryly and hurried toward the library exit.


    He was nearly knocked off his feet on the way up the stairs - a whole crowd of classmates swept past, brushing aside questions about where they were in such a hurry. Only Iwiel took pity and stopped.


    "Don''t you know? Faelinn has managed to assemble all the pieces of his mosaic! And now he wants to demonstrate what happens when they are put together! How could you miss it!?"


    Indeed, none of them had yet been lucky enough to find a complete collection of fragments of any mosaic. Tim himself had three pieces with a picture of the sea, two more with delicate translucent wings (a butterfly or a dragonfly, maybe a fairy - who knows, until the center fragments are found!) and two more with drawings that could not be uniquely identified - one had nothing but a zigzag line, the other only a pink background, slightly darker on one of the edges. In general, until other fragments are found, it''s impossible to understand which picture to collect.  It is on Earth that puzzle packages are provided with clues, but here you have to guess. But there is a chance to get a very real prize, not just moral satisfaction!


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    A group of their schoolmates had set up near the exit of the school, right on the marble slabs of the road leading to the fountain. Faelinn, who was in the center of it, with a sour look observed its gradual increase, as if he feared someone might try to take his prize. He would probably have preferred to fold the mosaic without any witnesses, but Ruum-Fib, who had found the last fragment, refused to trade it for anything. But he promised to give it away for nothing, only if Faelinn showed what would come of it, to anyone who would wish to do so. The elf had to agree - it could take an unknown amount of time to find another piece just like it.


    Tim''s friends were already here (they were probably looking for him, but hadn''t thought to look in the library, and he hadn''t said where he was going), but when they saw that Tim had come with Iwiel, they didn''t approach him. The elf girl was in no hurry to switch her attention to someone else, and Tim had no good reason to leave her.


    A few more classmates arrived after them, the last to arrive were Gook-Luk and Patpako. The latter had managed to get himself a copy of ''Clones'' and was trying to read it as he went along, not paying much attention to the chatter of his companion. Gook-Luk was not particularly upset about this, although, from Tim''s point of view, she would have been better served by a peirot rather than a yusme as a companion. But that was up to them, maybe she liked to be listened to without being interrupted.


    "Is anyone else coming?" Faelinn asked sufferingly, after waiting a little longer.


    "No, go ahead and start!" there was an answer.


    "Well, there you go then!" Ruum-Fib held out his piece of the mosaic to the elf. The others were already stacked together on a flat surface. Carefully, taking care not to disturb the connection, Faelinn put the missing piece to them.


    For five seconds nothing happened, and Tim thought they were being played a joke. But then the edges of the fragments flashed crimson and joined together. And in a second the resulting picture scattered dust and in its place a crystal appeared - a gray octahedron.


    "Is that all?" Faelinn couldn''t hide his disappointment.


    "And you were counting on the Archmage''s wand?" Taeron laughed. "If you don''t want it, I''ll take it. Just in time for tomorrow''s Twilight magic class."


    "No, that''s mine!" Faelinn hurriedly grabbed the prize and slipped it into the pocket of his uniform.


    "Don''t worry, you''ll have better luck next time!" Namitil tried to reassure him.


    "When else will it be..."


    "Build another collection in the meantime, what''s the problem?"


    "I wonder, if you build one just like it, what are the chances of getting the same prize?" Patpako asked.


    "You''re really something. Let''s test it on you!"


    "It seems to me that the more complicated the construction, the more valuable the thing will be. If it''s only six or eight pieces, it won''t be very interesting. You need to build a mosaic of twenty or even thirty pieces!"


    "You''d never finish it in time to study," Yantau chilled his ardor.


    "What should we do then?"


    "We need to exchange information regularly. It will be much faster if we work together," Naar-Tam suggested.


    "Then how shall we divide the prize?" Yantau was practical again. "Shall we chop it into several pieces?"


    "That won''t do either. But there must be a way out of this?"


    A discussion ensued. Some suggested casting lots, others suggested that whoever wished to keep the prize should buy back the missing pieces from the others. The arguments of the latter were eventually found to be more fair, and the proposal to get together regularly and see who had what fragments was accepted without objection.


    Having reached a consensus, the people calmed down and began to scatter.


    "Oh, where''s my book?" Patpako woke up.


    "What kind of book did you have?" Eliavin asked.


    "I can''t remember the title, something about clones."


    "It''s your book!" Fingor pointed to Tim, glancing around.


    Next time, not in front of witnesses, I''ll have to explain to him that pointing fingers at anyone is indecent, Tim thought.


    "That''s my book."


    "Well, it can''t be yours if it has the word ''clones'' in the title!"


    "He couldn''t have taken someone else''s book without asking permission!" Gmuruk suddenly interceded for Tim.


    "How would you know, orc?"


    Luckily, the brewing conflict was dampened down by Patpako''s claim that they had both been in the library and that they had each taken a copy.


    "Well, you should have said so. So you lost it on the way!"


    "No, I had it with me when I got here."


    After all the circumstances had been cleared up, the book was found. As it turned out, Patpako had absent-mindedly put it on one of the branches of the nearest bush. That sagged under the weight of the book, and the ''Clones'' landed in the middle of the thickets.


    "And why are you two suddenly interested in the clones?" Faelynn asked, with a hint of suspicion in his voice. The discrepancy between his expectations and the results spoiled his mood.


    "I think it makes sense to find out more about who they are," Tim answered reluctantly.


    "Let''s find out all at once!" Naar-Tam suggested with enthusiasm.


    He borrowed a booklet from Tim and opened it so that the contents could be seen by those around him. A curious crowd immediately surrounded him.


    On the first page of the brochure there were schematic pictures of two smiling, cheerful little men, facing each other, one in a school uniform, the other semi-transparent. The text, typed in capital letters, described not so much the process of creating doppelgangers (a dozen of very clever scientific terms, the explanation of which was missing, could be disregarded), as benefits from their use. For example, if you have to go to class but have no desire to, you send your double instead of yourself and it''s in the bag. Or, on the contrary, you leave him to do your homework and go out with your friends.


    "Only it''s better not to let him go on a date instead of you," Eliavin commented cheerfully.


    "Who are you going on a date with?" Eliavel jumped up to him immediately.


    "I''m just theorizing..."


    "She''s very caring," Gillmir said, both snidely and admiringly at the same time.


    "Lucky for someone with a sister," Mez''A''Shib sighed.


    "How else could it be, if at the slightest disregard immediately some kind of pest will catch on!"


    "You don''t mean me, do you?" Dem''O''Sut queried her sarcastically. "Maybe I was only trying to make friends! Why did you have to put buzzing insects on me?"


    "I can do it again!" Eliavel said firmly, looking around. The ghosts were nowhere to be seen.


    "Don''t be angry, I really wasn''t going on a date with anyone," Eliavin said conciliatorily, standing between his sister and the drow girl.


    "Well, if anything, you''ll get it from me!"


    "And if I make a date, will you come?" Dem''O''Sut asked, smiling sassy. "Alright, alright, I am just kidding, don''t be angry. You, the light ones, are so serious, you don''t even understand jokes!"


    "It depends on what kind of jokes," Gillmir said.


    "Various ones. You, for instance, are you brave?"


    "Maybe," the elf answered cautiously, feeling a catch.


    "Well, let''s try it. Would you walk through the woods with me?"


    "Right now?"


    "Why not? It''s still a long time before nightfall."


    "Okay," Gillmir agreed after a moment''s hesitation. It was obvious that the decision was not easy for him.


    "Well, then, let''s go!"


    Dem''O''Sut took him by the arm and led him away.


    "Don''t go, Gill!" Parial shouted belatedly after.


    "Don''t worry, I''ll take him back in one piece!" the drow mockingly parried, turning back.


    "We should have kept an eye on them," Fingor said anxiously.


    "It''s indecent," Iwiel pursed her lips, "but let''s see in what condition Gill gets back, and then we''ll act accordingly."


    "Besides, there''s lots of us and only one of us."


    "And after that you''ll speak of noble-mindedness?" Mez''A''Shib sneered.


    "And no one asked your opinion at all. We can deal with you as well."


    "All together, too?"


    At this point Rumara couldn''t take it anymore.


    "It''s only fair when it''s one on one and face to face, everything else is zrazd," she said firmly.


    "We''re joking, too!" Taeron said.


    "It is the same exception to the rule  when it''s better to send a clone on your date," Alkitmi said philosophically.


    "Isn''t there a formula for their creation?" Patpako activated, peering in the text.


    He was immediately laughed at.


    "First become a Master, then try it! If only people like you knew how to make doubles, there''d be more than enough to go around!"


    "Maybe it''s possible if you have enough mana," the yusme protested.


    "Well, try. Kunfor is already overloaded with it himself. And as a result he ended up in the hospital."


    Indeed, a few days ago Kunfor had precisely what the kobold had warned about - excess mana spilled out as a tangle of nasty yellow and brown worms. The anzimar had no choice but to run to the medical aid station, where he was given a disgusting tasting potion designed to restore the balance of mana in his system. He had to do a general cleaning in his room, because the worms that had appeared out of nowhere would not return to nowhere for some reason.


    The story amused all who heard it, especially Ri-Bo. It''s because of his natural dislike for blue-eyed beauties, Tim thought, not knowing the true background. Though the tilfing itself, except for a little moral satisfaction, did not benefit much from the incident - the anzimars had no intention of giving up their demands.


    "I am not a fool, I am well aware of the dangers of mana overeating," Patpako was offended. "Simply I''ve heard of an artifact, the owner of which can absorb any amount of mana without any consequences."


    It was immediately silent around him.


    "So, from this point more detail, please," Taeron expressed the collective interest. "What artifact, where is it now?"


    "I don''t know," the yusme admitted embarrassedly. "Perhaps it''s just a legend. It says that it was once made by Vian-Tig, the greatest wizard of Olmari (Naar-Tam nodded his head as if he knew him). But then he''d lost it somewhere - wizards can be very absent-minded sometimes (it was difficult to keep from smiling to those who heard this; the yusme himself was known for being absent-minded, always being late and losing things regularly) - or, in another version of the legend, it was stolen. Anyway, it''s not on Olmari now. As you can imagine, it''s almost impossible to hide the possession of such a thing from others."


    "Indeed," Yantau snorted. "With it you can cast any spell, no matter how powerful it is! You can move a mountain, or slay a whole horde of enemies in one touch!"


    "It''s so with a few adjustments," Alkitmi said, giving himself a ''scholarly'' look. "If you''re already a great sorcerer, you won''t surprise anyone by shifting mountains. But if yesterday you couldn''t set fire to a bundle of straw, and today you make the whole sea boil, that''s really suspicious."


    "That''s right. You can''t go from novice to Great Master overnight without an artifact like that. Kunfor already tried."


    "Could it be in our museum, by any chance? Maybe that''s why they walled it up."


    "Yeah, in order for people like you don''t steal it again."


    "Let''s ask an adult!"


    As predictably, no one was willing to talk to Sir Pulsok on the subject. The teachers of Green, Red, and Yellow magic seemed to be the more preferable candidates, especially after Tim''s statement that it is useless to ask the librarian, he had only recently been invited to work here. And Fingor said he''d tried to find out this from the kobold when he and Faelinn had been serving time in the lab, grinding some nasty stuff into mortars. But the kobold refused to say anything and advised them to ask the goblin directly.


    Of course, don''t hold your breath, Tim grinned to himself. Since you left our team without telling anyone, you''re no longer trustworthy. But it''s a sensible idea, Tim wondered why it hadn''t occurred to him before. Kobold has been here much longer than the librarian, and he should know many secrets of the school.

 Chapter 27.

    The classroom was packed long before the class began. When Master Ven''A''Sash appeared in the rostrum, she appreciated this with a satisfied smile.


    "This was as it should be from now on. No more tardiness. Where''s the praepostor? Oh yes, here she is. I hope you know all your classmates by name now."


    "Of course, Master."


    "Then take the Attendance Book, fill it out and bring it back at the end of class. In the meantime, we''re going to do some sorcery. And such one that is very educational for young wizards who haven''t yet learned to wield their own wands."


    She was thinking for a moment, and out of the crowd of anxiously awaiting students, she chose Ivliar.


    "Tell us what formula you learned for today''s class!"


    "Creation of the Deceptive Trap."


    "That''s very interesting. Go downstairs and show it in action."


    He did as he was told, but the spell did not work (which was not surprising, as it found out later: the Deceptive Trap was not an easy spell). Judging by the teacher''s reaction, she didn''t expect anything else.


    "Here''s how it should be done ," Master Ven''A''Sash made a motion with her wand, as if encircling the lycos. "I hope you''ll be able to do the same someday. And now, you can go back to your seat."


    As he obediently took a step in the direction indicated, he stumbled upon an invisible wall. He scratched his forehead and tried to walk forward again, but he couldn''t even move. Laughter was heard in the classroom, but as soon as the teacher looked up at the audience, everything fell silent in an instant.


    "Can anyone help him? Or is he just going to stand there?"


    "Take a step back!" Jaamite prompted from her seat.


    Ivliar did so and was astonished to find he could move again. Moreover, there was nothing to prevent him from returning to his desk.


    Master Ven''A''Sash, meanwhile, focused her attention on Jaamite.


    "Did you study the theory? Very well. Then come here and tell us more about that spell!"


    "The Deceptive Trap belongs to the class of Magical Traps and is characterized by polyvalence of action," Jaamite began cheerfully. "In most cases, in order to overcome it, you just have to step back, and then the magic dissipates. But in some cases you have to step to the side, crouch down, or jump in place. There are many variations of the trap, and they differ from each other only by slight changes in the general formula."


    "Well, let''s see if you can jump," Master Ven''A''Sash smiled venomously, making the same motion with her wand again. "And let the praepostor count to a hundred. If you''re not out of the trap by the end of the count, blame yourself."


    Jaamite must have regretted taking the initiative and thus drawing attention to herself. Shin''Ye''Het was counting too fast, forcing the yusme to make hasty and therefore ridiculous gestures. Left-to-right, back and forth, jumping on the spot didn''t help at all! When the count reached ninety, Jaamite covered her face with her hands, more out of despair than consciously. And the force that held her inside the trap immediately disappeared!


    "Did you like it?" The Master asked the yusme, who was about to burst into tears. "That''s why it''s called Deceptive Trap, sometimes it''s too unpredictable. And then whoever hesitates will be in for a very unpleasant surprise. What kind of surprise? Well, for example, temporary blindness. Or frostbite on his limbs. Or a bad mood for the rest of the day. Now do you understand why it was necessary to keep score? All right, you''ve earned your point, let it serve as consolation."


    So much anguish, and only one point?!? Tim was well aware of Jaamite''s state of mind. Resentment, disappointment, indignation, anger must be boiling in her soul; if it would be possible, she would run away from here or speak out from the heart about such teaching methods. But who has the courage to confront Master Ven''A''Sash about it? She can curse you so that you''d never want to live, and it would take you a long time to beg for forgiveness.


    The next victim was the smirking Germeht.


    "You! Yes, yes, that''s you, don''t play the stupid idiot! You think you''re the smartest, don''t you? We''ll see about that. Go to the blackboard and draw the formula for Eyes Away on it."


    And then he''ll almost certainly be asked to use it, Tim thought. Perhaps Yantau would be able to do it; at least he knows the formula for sure. It might be difficult for him to put it in writing, though. Whether Tim could do it himself was also a big question; he had written out the formula from the textbook, but had not learned it by heart, concentrating on Shadow Cover, like most of his classmates.


    Germeht readily performed what was required, smiling triumphantly at the class at the end. But he made a mistake in one of the words and thus blurred the effect of his performance. And the punishment was not long in coming.


    "Have you not been told about the necessity of correct writing and recitation of formulas? The wizards who neglected it did not live long and sometimes died in terrible agony. Oh, don''t worry, there aren''t too many deadly mistakes, but if you don''t want to find another one at the cost of your own life, try to learn not to make mistakes. At least in order not to look ridiculous in front of your fellows. An example? As many as you like. You should already know how the Veil of Dark spell works. It''s not dark enough in the classroom right now for the magic to work at its best, but we don''t need to.  Because I''m going to use another spell, one letter different from Veil of Dark, and you''ll see the result."


    The cloud that was already familiar to Tim enveloped Germeht, and almost immediately dissipated. But not quite: tiny particles of it seemed to be absorbed into the skin and hair of the anzimar, that made him look like a typical Black African - only his eyes remained blue. There was a chuckle, and Tim heard the snide phrase ''black anzimar'', while the others smiled in anticipation of continuing.


    Of course Germeht could not see his own face or hair, but he guessed from the reaction of the class that something not very pleasant was going on.


    "How am I supposed to walk around with these hands?" he was indignant, addressing the audience rather than the source of his trouble.


    "Don''t worry, sooner or later the magic will stop working," the teacher ''calmed'' him down. "But now, I hope, the desire to make mistakes will be greatly diminished."


    It was questionable if Germeht had the desire really, but he did not dare to argue with such an authoritative teacher and sat silently in his seat, trying not to meet anyone''s eyes. As long as Tim had managed to study the anzimars'' habits, they would not leave such humiliation unpunished - no matter how, but they would take their revenge later. Another thing, conflict with the mighty sorcerer can go sideways, so Germeht will take his anger out on someone else.


    Master Ven''A''Sash, meanwhile, decided to slow things down by limiting herself to the Shadow Cover recommended in the last class. Calling in turns to the board Tiis-Mir, Taeron, and Mikpir, she asked them to demonstrate their mastery of the spell. However, the results were not very impressive - the outlines of the figures became slightly blurry, but no more than that.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    "I see that your preparation for the class is far from perfect. I hope you''ll be properly prepared next time. If not," Master Ven''A''Sash paused meaningfully, and the pupils frozen in anticipation of more trouble to come, "blame yourselves. And that''s enough for today, all may be free."


    Clarifying a second later:


    "All except the boy with no magical gift."


    It was as if Tim had been hit over this head with a textbook. He hadn''t expected this to happen, and he was surprised to find himself at a loss. He could not escape, and what would follow was completely unclear. Almost certainly nothing good, otherwise why should he suddenly be detained after class! However, he didn''t have time to be guilty of anything...


    The classmates who passed by looked at him sympathetically, sometimes mockingly. Only Mez''A''Shib whispered in his ear before he left: "Be extremely careful what you say." Good advice, but how can you use it if you don''t know where danger is coming from?


    Master Ven''A''Sash patiently waited until there was none of them in the classroom, and then she invited Tim to come to the rostrum for a talk.


    "And to make sure no one will disturb us," she added, glancing at the door behind which the curious faces of Tim''s pals could be seen, "I am going to make some arrangements."


    With a wave of her wand, the door slammed shut with a loud noise, and a pinkish purple glow enveloped it.


    "Another very useful spell, named Cotton-in-Ears, so no one won''t be able to eavesdrop on our conversation, even with Sensitive Hearing."


    What he heard did not reassure Tim, but rather the opposite. On unbending legs he went downstairs, looking at his teacher expectantly.


    "So," she said in an unusually affectionate voice, "your name is Temozy (Tim didn''t correct that) and you''ve come here from a planet called..."


    That''s where Tim had to give a hint.


    "Exactly right, Earth. For some reason it is not mentioned in our guidebook. And there''s no information about humans at all. Which is not surprising with the mess that reigns in the library. Many of the books in the catalog are missing from the shelves, and no one knows who has them. Yes, the current librarian came here not so long ago, but in the time since then, he could at least make an inventory. I had to declare that if he wanted to continue working at the school, he should take care of it."


    Tim mentally sympathized with Khalid-amga: the drow teacher must have managed to put fear into him, too.


    "I haven''t been able to find anything but old legends, either," he said with a sigh.


    "There! So you agree with me on this point. You can continue your search. And if the old fool won''t give you the literature you''re interested in, say you got permission from me personally. I think that would be enough to make a positive decision."


    Indeed, Tim could hardly imagine anyone daring to question Master Ven''A''Sash. After all, she''s also good with Black Magic!


    "Has your gift not yet been awakened?" she suddenly asked.


    "Not yet," Tim answered in a regretful voice.


    "And you don''t know how to awaken it, of course (Tim nodded his head in agreement). In fact, no one can foresee the moment of its first manifestation. As Apnarguda, who had studied the phenomenon of magical gifts for centuries, noted, the later its awakening, the more unusual the result. I''d be curious to see what you get. You''re not going to keep it a secret from your Master, are you?"


    Master Ven''A''Sash''s soft voice startled Tim even more than her mocking or stern tone. It was an odd request - why did a sorcery master care about an apprentice from a planet that wasn''t even mentioned in the guidebook? She had no interest in the innate abilities of any of his classmates, who were far more adept at witchcraft. On the other hand, there is nothing shameful about it - he is not being persuaded to spy on his own fellows! The more so that there is no point in hiding the fact of acquiring the gift.


    "I have nothing against it," said Tim, overcoming his own fears. "But I wouldn''t want to demonstrate it in front of the whole class..."


    "I know exactly what you mean. It''s true that not all things are worth showing to others. But there''s no problem at all: when it finally happens, come into the library and ask Khalid to contact me. I think it makes no sense to talk about the undesirability of anyone else''s presence there at that moment."


    "Of course!"


    "The details of our conversation today should also be kept confidential."


    "If anyone asks, I''ll tell him that you were interested in Earth," Tim figured it out.


    "I see we understand each other. That''s good. It will be better for you first of all. Oh, no, I don''t mean to intimidate you. Some things you shouldn''t trust even your friends. Someday you''ll understand why."


    "In some situations, they can behave in a very unfriendly way."


    "That''s exactly right. That kind of prudence isn''t common at such a young age. Except for the drowes, but you''re not one of them. Though I wouldn''t be surprised if you struck up a rapport with one of my people."


    How did she know of his friendship with Mez''A''Shib? Though... he really can be a rare dullard sometimes! The dark elf had sat beside him during classes, so there was no difficulty in deducing that.


    "Now, if you get it right, you can go back to your classmates. No doubt they''re already out of their minds with curiosity. As soon as you touch the door, the shutting magic will be dispelled and you can leave the room. See you in the library!"


    That''s easy to say - what if the gift doesn''t show itself in a year? Master Ven''A''Sash will be disappointed and put him on her personal ''black list'', making a laughingstock out of him in every lesson. He''ll have to bother the ''old fool'' again to see if there are any books in the library that mention how to make the gift awaken faster. Why didn''t he think of it before!


    This solution cheered him up a bit; he grabbed his wand and grimoire from his desk and hurried to the exit of the classroom. He reached for the door handle and turned around, but the teacher was no longer in the rostrum.


    A whole crowd was waiting for him outside. In addition to his friends, there were Tiis-Mir, Selkise, Chilajt, the tilfing girls, all four orcs, three lycoses, and even a few elves. Once he was in sight, they all attacked him with questions.


    "Well?"


    "What did she want from you?"


    "Did she try to mock you?"


    "Not really," though Master Ven''A''Sash could no longer hear him, Tim pushed the door shut behind him. "She was asking about my home world."


    "Is that all?" Gmuruk grumbled disappointedly.


    "I didn''t think Ven would be interested in anything other than dark magic," Tiis-Mir commented cheerfully.


    "And besides punishment," Ri-Bo added, confessing that he had tried to eavesdrop, but to no avail.


    "The door must be made of soundproof wood," Gillmir suggested.


    Tim didn''t say anything about the spell his teacher had used; if he did, they definitely wouldn''t let him go until he told all the details.


    "Never mind, let''s go to the dining room!" Yantau put an end to the discussion.


    His proposal was greeted with enthusiasm - appetite was usually lost for some reason before Master Ven''A''Sash''s class, but afterwards the hunger was quick to take its own. This was to Tim''s advantage: he was afraid of long questioning, when the chance of saying something wrong and thereby exposing himself increased many times over.


    They celebrated the end of the class in a big way, ordering far more than they could eat. Especially since the next Twilight Magic class isn''t until a month from now, and there aren''t any classes at all in the next few days! You can meditate, play feyo or walk around the woods - all that you want!


    The carefree discussion of plans for the upcoming mini-vacation was interrupted when Nhel''Yu''Min appeared.


    "Silence, please!" she announced loudly, very maturely, drawing attention to herself. "I have an important message for you! According to Sir Pulsok''s latest order, the penalties will be stiffened because of the increase in disciplinary infractions. From now on, not only is punishment for assaulting a classmate, but also for verbally abusing him. Sleeping out of rooms, attempts to enter places where access is prohibited, will be punished twice. Also, the school organizes a volunteer assistance squad of the administration. If anyone becomes aware of illegal actions of his classmates, he is obliged to inform any of its members. Withholding such information qualifies as aiding and abetting the perpetrators, and then..."


    "Did you come here to spoil our appetite?" Gmuruk grumbled grimly.


    "Disrespect can also be considered an insult," Nhel''Yu''Min said arrogantly, her chin tilted high.


    In reply, a piece of eanni (an apple-like fruit, but tastes more like pineapple) hit her squarely in the ear - someone from the elves did their best.


    "What are you doing!? I''ll tell Sir Pulsok everything!"


    This is where many people''s patience ran out.


    "Snitch!"


    "Get out of here, tattletale, don''t interfere with dinner!"


    "Go kiss your goblin!"


    "You''re going to regret this!" Nhel''Yu''Min exclaimed resentfully, turning to leave the dining room. A second piece of eanni struck her between her shoulder blades, prompting her to get out of the dining room as quickly as possible.


    "That''s why they were gathering in the forest," Mez''A''Shib sighed.


    "What do you mean?" Ri-Bo was surprised.


    The drow had to tell them in order.


    "Would anyone really want to join such a squad?" Naar-Tam was genuinely puzzled.


    "Believe me, there are those who would gladly do so."


    "I can''t imagine anyone who would."


    "You will see."

 Chapter 28.

    Whether or not Mez''A''Shib''s fears would come true, the friends preferred not to think about it, concentrating entirely on organizing their second visit to the lower tiers. In principle, almost everything was already prepared for it: the day before the kobold had given them another vial of neutralizing potion, dwarves had equipped backpacks with a whole bunch of things that are extremely useful during any expedition. There were flasks with water, packs of bgurts (something like plates of meat baked to a crisp, very tasty and filling), bags of thick cloth (for collecting crystals and other small things), several sheets of thick paper with a stylus for sketches (dwarves never forget about their interest), a flashlight that Tim asked for (though not oil, but magic; the elemental inside had to be fed with crystals from time to time, but it was more convenient than oil one), and a massive, thick candle that should burn for a day (at least, that''s what Rugud said). There were even a small axe and a mini-pickaxe - they looked like toys in the hands of adults, but just right for the friends. In addition, Tim noted to himself, they could be used not only as tools, but also as weapons. He didn''t think they had to defend themselves against anyone, but the things made him feel better.


    They were advised not to return back with the backpacks but leave them in the dungeon, best of all behind one of the statues of the minus first tier - which one is to be decided on the spot.


    The mag-detector, though ordered, had not yet arrived. None of the friends were willing to wait for it to arrive - and who in their place would endure the torture of patience?


    To avoid oversleeping, they agreed not to stay up too late, and that the first one to wake up would wake the others. And then, without haste, they run to the door with an arrow pointing down - the less people will have time to notice them, the better.


    As it happened, they all woke up almost at the same time. When Ri-Bo banged on the door, Tim had already opened his eyes. Naar-Tam was awakened by the noise of the tilfing. A moment later, Mez''A''Shib came to them.


    "All clear," he announced, glancing around again just in case. "Although someone was sneaking in and out at night, I heard footsteps, but I didn''t go to find out who it was."


    "Weren''t the ghosts on duty?"


    "That''s the thing, they were. That''s why I didn''t tempt fate. The main thing for us now is that the road is clear. Even if we meet any of them, it''s not a problem, because it''s daytime and we can go anywhere."


    When they arrived at their destination, Mez''A''Shib knocked gently on the door of the storeroom where they''d had tea with the dwarves the last time. The door was opened by Dobuzh, who let them in as soon as he saw who was there.


    "Here''s your luggage," he said, pointing to the backpacks on the nearest shelf. "Remember, you needn''t bring them back."


    "We''ll try to find a good hiding place for them," Mez''A''Shib bowed his head gratefully.


    "Here''s another present for you," Rugud came up next, and from his pocket he pulled out a silver chain with a biconvex green lens suspended from it. "It''s not jewelry, as you might think. The color of the glass corresponds to the color of the eye that is lit at the moment."


    It''s essentially the equivalent of wristwatches, Tim thought. It would come in handy in a dungeon, where the sense of time is different than it is on the surface. Now they''d have a chance to plan their actions. A very precious gift indeed! And Tim thanked the dwarf profusely.


    "Oh, it''s nothing," Rugud dismissed the thanks, though he appreciated it. "The main thing for you is to come back safe and sound."


    "We don''t mind it either," Naar-Tam smiled broadly.


    "Of course you don''t mind, but don''t try to be too strong," Dobuzh added admonishingly. "The map will help, but its author could not take into account everything. And he had time to explore only part of the way."


    "We''ll finish it!" Ri-Bo promised without a shadow of a doubt.


    "Well, we''ll see...," Rugud said with a skeptical chuckle.


    The words of farewell were said, there was no point in their waiting any longer. So with another ''thank you'', Tim took the nearest backpack from the rack and put it on. And then he helped his friends, who didn''t have to carry things like that on their backs, to do the same.


    "Now we can go!"


    This time the trap was two concentric circles, one into the other (Pulsok''s imagination is fine, Tim thought wryly). It didn''t matter, though; once the trap was neutralized, you could walk right through it. Still, they tried not to step on it unnecessarily.


    There were no new names on the ''Wall of Honor'' - though if anyone had been here, he might not have wanted to add him to the list. The stone on the fork still called for one of the three paths. But they had already made their choice.


    In the middle of the ashes left by their fire in front of the door leading to the minus first tier, they placed a candle, and Naar-Tam lit the wick with his wand. The flame flickered, and the door slowly opened again.


    The start of their journey was marked by a pleasant surprise - the Horror Sphere only affected those who couldn''t get past it, and let the rest pass through unhindered. They did not bother to collect the few crystals (they simply did not have time to form again, Tim suggested), nor did they search for the messages left by the geerkhs (if there was anything on the minus first tier, it was probably already found by those who had been there before them). The only thing they could do was to look for a hiding place for their backpacks. As a result it was a niche behind a statue in the far corner of the hall, the tunnel next to which was filled with stones.


    Alas, there was still a veil of impenetrable darkness at the entrance to the minus second tier - they had to grop their way around again and jump down very carefully to avoid damaging the contents of their backpacks.


    "I wish there was a ladder, or at least a superstructure to make jumping easier," Ri-Bo grumbled, shaking himself off. He tried again to climb down the wall, but could not hold on to the edge.


    "Good idea, when we''ve mastered the magic of the stone we''ll try it!"


    Before entering the maze, Mez''A''Shib unfolded the map.


    "I know it by heart, it''s not that difficult, we, drowes, have more difficult ones. So stick with me, I will lead you to the exit."


    With an experienced guide it really wasn''t difficult to get over the labyrinth - it must have been five minutes before they found themselves at the fork. Two tunnels led from there, the left one labeled ''bridge'', the right one - ''needles''.


    You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    "Which way do we turn?" Mez''A''Shib asked his friends.


    "We''ll take the bridge!" Ri-Bo said and Naar-Tam seconded the offer.


    Tim wasn''t so adamant about it. If the road had been safe, no one would have penciled notes on the map. But he didn''t argue, deciding to have a look for himself first. According to the principle - it is better to see once than to hear a hundred times.


    Once again a surprise awaited them - this time not so pleasant. There was no bridge, and the passage ended in a precipice no less deep than the one they had almost fallen into the last time following Naar-Tam, deceived by the cries of the hinkhu. And it was wider - not less than twenty paces wide.


    "There was a bridge, but it is gone," Naar-Tam commented dejectedly.


    "Well, since none of us can fly, we''ll go over the needles. If others can pass through them, so can we!"


    They had to go back and turn right at the fork. The tunnels looked exactly the same, as if they were made by copying. Or rather, mirrored symmetrically to each other - like shoes for left and right feet. Only the ''surprises'' were different. So where are the needles?


    As Tim thought about it, a pointed metal pin jutted out from the wall in front of Mez''A''Shib. In a moment it would have plunged into his body. As it soon found out, the pin was coming from the wall you was closest to, or, if you walked to the center, straight out of the floor. One wrong step and you would find yourself on a spit. Not a very pleasant sensation, which hardly anyone would agree to experience.


    In principle, you can pass through an obstacle, but only if you know for sure where to duck, and where to jump. In essence, running through a minefield, where one wrong move and the game is over. However, none of them wanted to risk it.


    "Eh, it''s a pity we can''t ask the maker of the map how he managed to get farther," Naar-Tam sighed.


    "Thank him for marking the trap at all, or some of us would be hurt right now," Tim protested.


    "I expected a catch, but another one," Mez''A''Shib admitted.


    "Can you get us through it?" Ri-Bo asked impatiently with a nod toward the ''needles''.


    "I''ll try, but it will take time. Stay where you are until I get to safe territory."


    "Wait," Tim interjected. "I have one suspicion. You notice how smooth the edges of that chasm in the parallel tunnel were? If the bridge had fallen, there would have been splinters, reinforcements of some kind. And there weren''t any!"


    "Exactly!" Mez''A''Shib cheered. "Why didn''t I think of that? There''s a bridge, but we can''t see it!"


    So happy to have found such a simple solution, they started almost running, and a minute later they were standing on the precipice. Here Tim had to cool down especially hot heads: if they guessed wrong, someone would take a short, sad flight. So, approaching the very edge, he bent down and groped the space in front of him. His fingers felt the stone where his eyes could only see the blackness of the gap. Magic again, and a very good one at that - even at graduation it was unlikely that any of them could create an illusion close in power. At the same time it was found out that the "bridge" was not that wide - only a meter and a half wide, and there was a real chasm beyond it, without any illusions. So they had to cross it by walking one after another strictly along the center, without approaching the tunnel walls.


    "It all seems to be over," Tim exhaled in relief when the obstacle was behind them.


    "Where to now?" Ri-Bo asked.


    "You''ll see."


    Down the stairs, they found themselves in the hall. It wasn''t as big as the one on the minus first tier, but it was roomy enough, too. The passageway was at the opposite end of the hall. A few statues of geerkhs, mostly on the right side. And on the left side... at first Tim was rather frightened when he saw the dark figures moving towards them. Only a few seconds later he realized that it was them, or rather their reflections. The very Mirror Rugud had spoken of. It''s huge, even Agyg would be reflected in it in one piece. Why is it here? A tenth of it would have sufficed for the geerkhs. Or did it exist before they? Not likely, since the tunnels that lead into the hall are not designed for any giants.


    After admiring their own faces (the tilfing couldn''t resist playing around a bit, making funny faces and watching with delight as the reflection copied them), the friends scattered in different directions to collect the crystals. Tim lingered for a moment, his attention drawn to the smeared dirt at the very edge of the Mirror. He squatted down and took a closer look. It looked as if someone had tried to destroy some kind of inscription. It wasn''t dirt at all, but the same blue substance, which seemed almost black in the darkness. It looked like the yusme who had issued the warning about the school had been here, too. With difficulty Tim was able to read the half-faded letters that formed the word ''Yuenhee''. There was no point in guessing what it meant - it would take someone from the Children of the Water. But if he tries to find out, they''ll ask him where he learned about it. Well, maybe on occasion...


    He straightened, leaned his palm against the perfectly smooth glass, and his reflection obediently did the same. Tim''s lips involuntarily whispered ''Yuenhee'', and the mirror rippled, blurring outlines of the reflection. And then, instantly, it went black, like a turned off monitor screen. But it wasn''t for long - a second later, the outlines of the unknown world were revealed through the darkness. A lifeless, icy wasteland - Tim could feel its mesmerizing breath that froze everything inside him. No living thing seemed capable of surviving here, but no, several fountains of snow rose up, materializing strange creatures that looked remotely like gargoyles. Spreading their wings, the creatures flew swiftly toward him. Their jaws full of sharp dagger teeth, their long curved claws, and their eyes burning with hatred, left no doubt that he was doomed to become their victim. An anxious thought rattled inside - run, save yourself! But the body, shackled by the deadly cold, refused to obey...


    A sharp jerk backward tipped him onto his back, and Tim saw his friends'' faces above him - amazed and worried at the same time.


    "Hey, how are you?"


    "I''m... I''m fine," he coughed, struggling to get up. Though it was warm in the dungeon, the coldness of the world that had accidentally opened up to him was in no hurry to let go of its prey. "What... happened?"


    "You''re asking! You were half in the mirror! A little more, and you would have disappeared inside! It''s a good thing we got you out in time! How did you do that?"


    "I don''t know. I put my hand to the glass and it was like being on another planet. It was very cold and full of monsters. The minute they saw me, they wanted to eat me. They may have been illusory, but looked very much like the real ones. So thank you for pulling me out of there!"


    "But we are friends, could we have done otherwise!?" Naar-Tam said with bafflement in his voice.


    "I can see now why Rugud would advise caution," Mez''A''Shib nodded his head. "At least it''s not blocking the path."


    Tim did not tell them about the cryptic inscription, deciding to figure it all out for myself first. And they continued on their way and soon found themselves at a door securely locked by two massive metal bolts. They tried to push one of them aside, but no matter how hard they tried, it was not possible to move even a millimeter.


    "That''s where Agyg would have come in handy," Tim sighed, wiping the sweat from his forehead.


    "It doesn''t seem to be rusted, why doesn''t it move?" Naar-Tam exclaimed again and again as he looked at the bolts.


    "There must be some secret mechanism," Mez''A''Shib was anxious to find.


    It wasn''t hard to find, just the two small stones either side of the door. As Mez''A''Shib stepped on one of them, the top bolt slid gently aside.


    "Is it really that simple?" Tim, who had been expecting a catch, was surprised.


    As it turned out, not simple at all - as soon as Mez''A''Shib jumped off the stone, the bolt slid back into place.


    "Clearly, the two of us have to stand on the stones at the same time, and then the door will open!"


    Of course, they checked it out immediately. And indeed, the bolts parted in different directions, and the door plunged right into the floor - just a small part of it was left outside, which they simply stepped over.


    "So there''s nothing to do here alone?" Naar-Tam was puzzled.


    "You were told that on the minus second tier."


    "Oh yes, I forgot about that. Did we really get it?"


    And, as if in answer to his question, the inscription on the front lit up:


    ''The minus third tier.


    Have you changed your mind about going any further?''


    "Don''t worry, we haven''t," Ri-Bo snorted as the letters melted into the air.


    "What traps are waiting for us here?" Naar-Tam asked when they arrived at the small cave whose only other attraction was the statue of a geerkh with an unusual headdress resembling a crown.


    "There''s nothing dangerous near us," Mez''A''Shib reported, glancing at the map just in case.


    "Then I have a suggestion: let''s take a break and have a little snack!"

 Chapter 29.

    The offer was greeted with enthusiasm, since neither of them had had time for breakfast. To be on the safe side, Tim pulled out of his pocket the chain with a biconvex lens Rugud had given him - the lens glowed a yellowish-green. They''ve got plenty of time, therefore they can sit for ten or even twenty minutes. It was quite comfortable in the cave, the only pity was that no one had thought to put benches so that they wouldn''t have to sit on the floor. Thanks to meditation, though, Tim had already gotten used to the feeling of a solid surface under his bottom. When he was a little boy, his mother often reprimanded him if he sat down on the floor, saying, "Don''t do that, or you will freeze something". Although he did not feel any cold under him, neither here nor there.


    They took off and unpacked their backpacks, sitting next to the statue. In Tim''s one, among other things, there was the pickaxe. He had to adjust it so that if necessary, he could pull it out at once, without digging into the backpack. Alas, he could not put it in his pocket, and it would be too tiresome to keep it in his hand all the time. He wished he could find a belt and attach a sheath to it, just as swords were carried in the old days. For now, he had to hang a pickaxe from one of the loops on his backpack. After that, Tim concentrated on his portion of the bgurt. Five plates didn''t seem like much, but one was enough to make the hunger go away.


    "It''s good, though!" Ri-Bo muttered with his mouth open, managing to finish two plates at once.


    "Dwarves can make things like that," Mez''A''Shib nodded. "So can the light elves, by the way, but with flour, not meat. They brew a miraculous potion, too - once you drink a few sips, fatigue will go away immediately and you will be able to run the whole day. And if you''re ill, you''ll feel better in no time. It''s a pity the drowes have forgotten how to make it."


    "By the way, was there anything in that book Tim had brought from the library about your people?" Naar-Tam was interested in it.


    "Not much, but there was something I didn''t know before. Thanks to the author: he gave detailed descriptions of the major events of the Great Wars era. As it turned out, Viltaar''s squad was sent at the very end, when the warring parties were ready to sit down at the negotiating table. The emergence of a large armed unit in the rear of the dwarves would almost certainly have negated the diplomats'' efforts - even if the elves hadn''t managed to hurt the beardies."


    "So someone really wanted to keep the war going," Tim said wryly.


    "Of course, there were some among orcs, dwarves, and elves. Orcish warlord Bagrash, for instance, suggested waiting for a dry summer and burning down all the forests - orcs tended to fight well in open countryside, but they felt uncomfortable in the forest thickets. In fairness it should be noted that among elves also there were supporters of radical solutions to problems: Elkhyar, the witch doctor, suggested changing the formula of Plague so that it would affect only orcs and no one else. Dwarves meanwhile had time to invent a black powder: place it into a jug and set on fire, and the shards of the jar will fly in all directions. And if you take the barrel of it, the whole house will be left in ruins. So it wasn''t for nothing that Viltaar didn''t want to go on that expedition. Tiliel, on the other hand, had asked for it - as if she had a premonition that she would be the first ruler of the drowes."


    "You make it sound as if she had arranged the skirmish with the goblins, during which Viltaar was mortally wounded."


    "Why not? Goblins also took part in wars, some tribes on the side of elves, others on the side of orcs or dwarves; whoever paid, they served. They were of little use on the battlefield: they ran in a noisy crowd, but if they failed to overturn the enemy, they scattered and fled. Therefore, they were hired on the principle: at least a little damage to the enemy, and that''s good.  Orcs were not ceremonious with them at all - they chased them in front of the orcish army on palisades in the forests or to clear the underground tunnels with their bodies. So it was no surprise if some tribe agreed to work as assassins for a hefty purse of gold."


    "What morals you have, though," Naar-Tam shook his head.


    "It''s nothing supernatural," Tim said. "We''ve had all kinds of things happen in our history, too. For instance, there was once a country called Ancient Rome. Emperors ruled there, some well, some not so well. There were probably more of the latter ones than of the former ones, that is why their empire started to degrade. The enemy detachments, called barbarians, were almost reaching the capital. And, finally, there came a moment when a very large army arrived, with the obvious intentions to seize the capital and loot the whole country. Fortunately, there was a commander who was able to repulse the horde. After the battle, the emperor summoned him to his office supposedly for reward, but in fact he had him executed. Or even stabbed him with his own hand, I don''t remember exactly."


    "Wow!!!" the peiroth''s eyes widened.


    "Not even the anzimars can do that," Ri-Bo remarked sneeringly.


    "But why would he want to do that?" Naar-Tam continued to wonder.


    "Because the emperor feared that the warlord would want to take the throne himself," Mez''A''Shib explained.


    "Don''t worry, the emperor didn''t rule long after that."


    "Aye, that''s what he deserved!"


    "But that doesn''t happen to us now," Tim reassured them. "Though an ''accident'' can be rigged."


    "He must have been an emperor too," Naar-Tam nodded toward the statue.


    "Perhaps. There''s something written on the pedestal, but I can''t make out what it is."


    "Alas. The language of the geerkhs is unknown to our rings."


    "It has simply not been studied by anyone for lack of use."


    "But the first inhabitants of the school had some contact with the geerkhs, didn''t they?" Tim protested.


    Uh, too bad again, no cell phone here - such selfies with the statue could have been taken! And he would have collected a million likes! The main thing is that no one can repeat it, because there are no monuments to spiders on Earth, especially with a crown on their heads!


    "See, how!" Ri-Bo cheerfully exclaimed, jumping on the pedestal and putting his left hand around the statue''s torso.


    A sudden creak from below made him jump back down. Slowly, as if waking up after a thousand years of sleep, the statue came to motion, turning around its axis. After half a turn it froze again, and inside the pedestal there was an amber-colored casket, with intricate carvings on its surface.


    "Well, Ri-Bo, you have a real talent for jumping up and opening things with that!"


    "Did we really find a treasure!?"


    "Looks like it. Careful, it might be booby-trapped!"


    Tim''s fears turned out to be unfounded - the casket was not equipped with any secret mechanisms that would spray poison or shoot sharp blades if handled carelessly. To open the lid, it was enough to press the two bulges on the sides. Inside they found rolls of aluminum foil - so it seemed to Tim at first glance. In fact, the metal only looked like aluminum; it was much stronger at a thickness comparable to a foil he was accustomed to on Earth, unable to be torn with bare hands and crushed into a lump. The surface of the metal sheets was covered in strange signs and drawings that didn''t say anything to the friends. But it was clear that it was of great value, and the dwarves were sure to find much interest in it.


    "Consider that we''ve paid back not only our expedition, but the contents of a hundred backpacks like ours," Mez''A''Shib grinned.


    "You think so, don''t you?"


    "Sure, even if the dwarves don''t figure out what had been written there, they''ll probably find where to put these sheets to profit."


    "But they''re not made of gold!"


    Mez''A''Shib looked condescendingly at Ri-Bo.


    "The value of anything is not determined solely by what it''s made of. There are masterpieces of iron and copper that cost high prices. It''s hard to say how valuable our find is, but if it was hidden rather than left in a corner, it must have had some value to the geerkhs."


    "Maybe they left their knowledge here before they left, hoping to come back," Tim suggested.


    "But they didn''t come back for some reason. So the knowledge belongs to us now," Ri-Bo concluded. "Could we really sell it for a bucket of gold?"


    "If you can find a buyer," Mez''A''Shib shrugged.


    "Here''s an idea: let''s give a few of the sheets to the dwarves and keep the rest. They might fetch a good price."


    "Who are you going to offer them to?" the drow said ironically.


    "You''ll see!"


    "I don''t think it''s quite fair to the bearded creatures," Naar-Tam stated hesitantly. "They might have turned us over to the administration last time, but they''ve agreed to help."


    Tim put an end to the argument.


    "Let''s do this: we''ll keep our promise, but we''ll bring two or three sheets at a time. Otherwise, the dwarves will get all at once and lose interest in us. What if we don''t get anything else?"


    "It makes sense," Mez''A''Shib agreed.


    "Shall we hide them with our backpacks?"


    "Better to keep them here, it''s safer."


    Tim took two metal sheets, rolled up into a tube and passed them onto Naar-Tam.


    "Now we must somehow put the ''emperor'' back in place. Ri-Bo, can you do it?"


    "In a jiffy!"


    However, the statue did not want to go back to its place.


    "Let me try!" Naar-Tam fussed, but without much success either.


    This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    "Ri-Bo, did you press any buttons on the geerkh by any chance?" Mez''A''Shib half-jokingly asked.


    "I think one of its ''arms'' slid to the side and when I heard the creaking sound, I was scared and forgot all about it!"


    As they examined the statue, they had no trouble finding the "dislocated" limb, which served essentially as a lever to open the hiding place. As soon as they tugged at it, the statue returned to its place.


    "Now, if you''ve had enough, let''s move on! What next adventure lies ahead of us?"


    "The closest section of the way is clear," Mez''A''Shib checked the map. "We can move around safely until we''re on the other side of the mountain."


    They hadn''t been able to relax, however: since they''d just entered another tunnel when Tim sensed a chill. It was pleasant at first, but the cold gradually increased; he could see Ri-Bo anxiously rubbing his cold palms together, and Naar-Tam slowly increasing the brightness of his Torch to try to warm himself with the heat it radiated. Mez''A''Shib, though he made no sign of it, was the first to worry.


    "I wonder why it''s so cold. It can''t be! The lower the level, the warmer it should be! Must be some kind of magic!"


    "Oh-h, and we d-don''t have a m-mag-detector... w-what are we sup-p-posed to do?" Naar-Tam, whose teeth were chattering, pitiably asked.


    "We cannot stay where we are! We have to get out of here and escape the magic!"


    On their nearly unbending legs they rushed forward, trying to keep warm while they moved. The effort was taxing, and so when they reached the next cave, where the temperature was quite normal, they tried to catch their breath before warming up their frozen limbs.


    "W-why d-doesn''t the m-map say so," Naar-Tam said, that couldn''t stop shivering.


    His Torch had gone out from overexertion, and now they would have to wait until the magic could be used again. Fortunately, it was not too dark in the cave.


    "I guess he just didn''t notice the cold because he was cold-tolerant."


    "What if he''s the yusme who didn''t like the school?"


    "It''s possible. And he was trying to get out to the ocean."


    "If such a passage even exists."


    "But the geerkhs got out of here somehow!"


    "What if they hid deep underground?"


    "Well, we''ll get to them sooner or later!" Ri-Bo brightened up.


    The only thing we don''t know is whether the geerkhs would be happy about such a meeting, Tim chuckled to himself. If they have a conflict with the school, they can tell them to go away without even trying to negotiate. And that''s at best - what if they don''t refuse to eat schoolchildren who have wandered into their territory?


    "It is unlikely that we''ll meet them on the minus third tier," Mez''A''Shib said melancholy. "And we still have to get to the entrance to the minus fourth tier. Personally, I don''t understand the ''air'' marking in the next tunnel. Do you have any idea what might be waiting for us?"


    "We''ll figure it out on the spot," Naar-Tam waved it off.


    They encountered danger earlier than expected - or maybe the notation on the map wasn''t as accurate as they''d hoped. At first, the breathing became more rapid, as if they had run a hundred yards. Then came the feeling of a fish pulled out of the water - Tim realized with horror that he was beginning to suffocate. That''s what the author of the map meant by ''air'' - almost no air at all! When it is too little, it becomes difficult to breathe - that''s why climbers take oxygen cylinders with them when they climb high in the mountains! But they are not such cylinders here and it is unknown whether they will ever appear. So, there is only one thing to do - to pass this place as quickly as possible!


    His friends thought of the same thing at almost the same time as he did, because all four of them switched to running without collusion. Running was easier on the one hand, since the cold did not constrain their movements, but on the other hand it was more difficult, since they had to breathe even more quickly. When they finally got out of the ''kill zone'', they could not catch their breath for about five minutes, as if they were thirsty travelers in the middle of a red-hot desert, who suddenly found themselves holding a canister of cool clear water.


    "What an adventure!" Ri-Bo marveled. "It''s time to hold a race to see who can run faster!"


    "More like a race for survival," Tim grimaced.


    He stumbled as he raced, nearly falling over. Mez''A''Shib noticed this and explained to the tilfing:


    "Imagine, if you twisted your leg in the middle of a trap, would you have time to get out from under the magic? That''s just it. It''s better to have fewer adventures like this."


    "And more crystals!" Naar-Tam finished cheerfully, picking up the gray octahedron from the floor, almost imperceptible in the dimness around them.


    "I think there''s something better," Mez''A''Shib looked around and scraped a growth of pale green moss off the wall, under which there was a piece of the puzzle.


    "How did you spot it?" Ri-Bo wondered.


    "Very simply: the glow was too unusual, as if it were not the moss, but its roots. And since the moss has no roots..."


    "Is the shard glowing itself? Cool!"


    The friends crowded around Mez''A''Shib, staring at the find with amazement. Indeed, no one in their class had ever been lucky enough to find a fragment that gave off light. Was it due to the symbolic depiction of the sun on it, a circle framed by dashes?


    "It would be better to hide it and not show it to anyone for the time being."


    "Why?"


    The drow couldn''t explain, but Tim felt intuitively that this delicate and almost weightless part of the unknown painting could be very important to them. Mez''A''Shib handed it to him for safekeeping without much regret, and Tim immediately tucked it deep into his pocket.


    The next thing on their path was a ''skating rink'', the thought of which again made Tim''s limbs feel cold. But the reality was different: Mez''A''Shib, who was walking ahead, slipped and fell with a startled yelp. Trying to stand up, he slipped again and rolled down - the tunnel was going downhill.


    Ri-Bo and Naar-Tam stopped, unsure of what to do next - it wasn''t easy to stay on your feet on the perfectly smooth surface. We''d need a sled here, Tim thought, on which kids like to slide down ice slides, but in principle we could do it the simpler way, by sitting on the bottom and rolling. Which he did, setting an example for the others.


    "Did you hurt yourself?" he asked Mez''A''Shib anxiously once he was below.


    "I don''t think so, but the backpack was a little bruised. It''s good the dwarves didn''t put any breakable objects in it..."


    "Here we are!" Ri-Bo announced happily. He got the taste for the high speed and, before he had time to slow down, crashed straight into Mez''A''Shib, making him groan again.


    "That''s all well and good, but how do we get back?" Naar-Tam landed beside him.


    Indeed, no matter how much you want to, you can''t roll upward. There seems to be a corresponding law in physics, but Tim couldn''t formulate it properly. But it was clear without any scientific knowledge - to get back to the hill, one has to climb up it. As a last resort, there is a pick - if you try hard enough, you can scratch the surface of the ''rink'', making it rough, and then your feet will stop slipping. But somehow got out of this trap others!


    The way out, however, was found without much difficulty - there were notches and potholes along the very edge on the right side, almost invisible from above, but well enough distinguishable from below. The only inconvenience was the need to move close to the tunnel wall, involuntarily wiping your uniform on it. Good thing their daily clothes were gray - not very pretty, but practical, no dirt or dust on them was noticeable.


    "We can go back now," Naar-Tam reassured himself. "So it makes sense to go further."


    "How much further to the minus fourth tier?" Ri-Bo asked immediately.


    "Minus third one is not inspiring you anymore?" Mez''A''Shib replied snidely. "You''ll see, there are still many surprises waiting for us. Not as harmless as racing or riding on our own bottoms."


    "Bite your tongue," Tim couldn''t resist.


    "What exquisite curses you know, though!"


    As it turned out, the translation ring transformed his phrase into something like ''may you hang by your tongue from the ceiling''.


    "It''s tough, indeed," Naar-Tam shook his head.


    "I didn''t really wish for anything of the sort," Tim excused himself. "It''s just a wish that what''s said won''t come true."


    However, a lot of things that they didn''t wish came true, but why rush things?


    They walked about two hundred meters (maybe even three hundred, who counted?) without any adventures, except for the inscription that Naar-Tam accidentally noticed. It happened in another cave where the only attraction was a pedestal without a statue - it was either forgotten or not put up in time, as the wreckage was nowhere to be seen. The strange inscription was near the ceiling, and Mez''A''Shib had to scramble up the pedestal to read it.


    "What does it say?" Ri-Bo, as usual, suffered from impatience.


    "Lilamir and Gar''Ja''Fin were here. Have you not?"


    "It hardly has anything to do with geerkhs," Tim grinned.


    "A light elf and a dark elf together?" Naar-Tam wondered. "Is that possible?"


    "Why not," Mez''A''Shib shrugged. "It depends on us. If you want to be friends with someone who in turn wants to be friends with you, then no prejudices will interfere. Although at the first meeting, they most often prevail."


    "I thought the anzimars were nice guys at first," Naar-Tam puzzled.


    "That''s another thing. You didn''t know anything about them before school, and first impressions are often deceptive. I also didn''t know before about peirots and yusmes existence, so why would there be any prejudice? In such cases, you make up your own opinion first, and then you decide whether or not to be friends."


    They continued on their way, but were soon blocked by a wall that sealed off the passageway.


    "Well, my goodness! Was it really a dead end?"


    "It can''t be. There are no signs of any turn offs on the map, there is simply no other way."


    "But this wall was not marked either! Whoever drew the map should be torn off his ears! And something else as well!"


    "Maybe he was sketching from memory. And not immediately after his visit to the dungeon, but some time later," Tim interceded for the unknown cartographer.


    "I realize he might not have suffered from the cold, but how could he forget something like that?" Ri-Bo was indignant, pointing at the wall. "He couldn''t have gone any farther!"


    "So he was able," Mez''A''Shib said ironically. "I suppose, there must be a hidden lever, too, that allows you to get past the obstacle. I''ll see if I can find it."


    But it turned out to be simpler than that. As soon as he tried to grope the wall, it was as if his hand had fallen through the stone. The wall turned out to be illusory - take a step through it and you''ll find yourself on the other side.


    "It''s not a bad idea, though! It looks just like the real thing!"


    "That''s what it''s all about - what''s the point of doing it half-assed? That way any fool would understand he''s being tricked."


    "We could have figured it out right away. It was marked ''illusions''!"


    "Not quite there, a little farther away. But it doesn''t matter now. It was already clear that the map could not be trusted for everything."


    "As they say in our part of the world, trust but verify," Tim noted.


    "It''s nothing," Naar-Tam waved it off . "Are we to fear illusions? If we have managed to overcome the Sphere of Terror, walls painted in the air won''t stop us at all."


    But it wasn''t that simple.


    When they passed the wall they found themselves in a glade with a huge anthill in the middle. Even realizing that it wasn''t real, Tim preferred to avoid it; Mez''A''Shib followed his example. Ri-Bo, on the other hand, wanting to show off his toughness, kicked the anthill hard. The illusion didn''t go anywhere, of course, but the sight of insects on his legs made the tilfing to shake them off with jumps - with equal success. The only way to get rid of the "ants" was to move far away from their home.


    And then they wandered through the swamp, accompanied by the chorus of frogs and the singing of cicadas. At some point in time all the sounds stopped, and snakes crawled out of the swamp toward them - how to remain calm, assuring yourself of their illusory nature, if they hissed and wiggled just like the real thing? Instinctively, the friends backed away, then, overcoming their fear, went around the wall. The swamp soon gave way to a forest, dark and gloomy, with shriveled leaves underfoot and dreary, waiting for the coming of winter, trees that creaked pitifully in the gusts of wind. Strange flowers, black with bright red speckles, swaying here and there on long purple stalks, also made a sullen impression. The sight of them filled Tim''s soul with sadness and despair, he wanted to lie down and die. Ri-Bo was the first to fall to his knees, beginning to sob and wiping his tears with his hands. Mez''A''Shib stopped, closed his eyes and whispered a few unintelligible words. Only Naar-Tam was unaffected by the magic of the flowers, he looked at his fellows with a puzzled look on his face, and laughed. And this laughter helped them to overcome witchy charms.


    "Hey! Why are you so sour? They''re not real! Just don''t look at them, that''s all!"


    "That''s right," the tilfing shook himself, ashamed of his own weakness. "Why are we still here? Come on, let''s go!"


    It cheered them up a bit. Soon they came to the end of the forest, to the edge of a cliff with the clouds floating in front of them. Far away, at the top of the mountain, there was a castle built of white marble, and the spires of its towers glittered in the rays of the rising sun. That''s where a hearty dinner and a night''s sleep awaits them, wandering knights, who had survived many adventures and won even more victories. And, sitting by the fireplace, they will tell the hospitable hosts many entertaining stories - about the customs of the peoples inhabiting the land, the caves full of gold and precious stones, the magicians who can fly through the air and revive the figures of stone, the ocean monsters, giants and fierce dragons. And then, perhaps, those stories will form the basis of tales and legends, but neither their narrators nor their listeners will even assume that this is how it really was.


    Dreaming, Tim took a step forward, then another. Last year when his family set off on an airplane trip, there was a white featherbed stretching to the horizon under the wings of the airplane. And how much he wanted to run up and down on it! He was very upset then, realizing that his wish had not come true. But now his dream will come true...


    He heard a warning shout from behind, but did not have time to react. The clouds parted beneath him, revealing a bottomless abyss, and a sharp pain extinguished his consciousness.

 Chapter 30.

    Once again they stood before the Mirror, unable to make any movement. And those on the other side of the mirror wall had been making faces and having fun, sticking out their tongues and pointing their fingers.


    "That''s enough fooling around," Tim''s doppelganger said imperiously at one point, and the merriment died down. "We have more important things to do."


    "Let''s start by setting fire to the library," the tilfing''s doppelganger chuckled, rubbing his hands together in anticipation of the fun. The whimsical play of shadows in the subterranean cave made him look like a real devil.


    "Why limit yourself to the library? Let''s burn the whole forest to the ground! Let the fire reach to the sky!" the peirot''s doppelganger laughed demonically.


    "Don''t waste your time on trifles, Ir-Ob and Raan-Math," the drow doppelganger said sternly, and the darkness swirled around his head. "We''d better make sure that everyone is afraid of us. And even the teachers would think twice before giving us bad grades. Am I thinking right, Mit?"


    "You''re all small-minded," Tim''s doppelganger grinned wickedly. "With the power we have now, we can run the school ourselves."


    "And what are we to do with them?" Ir-Ob nodded toward the Mirror.


    "Let them stay here forever, they can''t stop us now. Don''t be bored without us," Mit waved a sneering goodbye, and turned to leave the cave, followed by the others.


    "We have to stop them," Tim whispered through his lips as he tried to break the charms. But it was in vain - his friends, aware of the futility of their efforts, froze as lifeless statues and answered him no more. There is no hope for salvation - it may be tens, or even hundreds of years before someone appears here and guesses to break the Mirror, freeing them. If he comes at all.


    Trying to roll onto his other side, Tim felt a sharp pain - as if a hammer had hit his head. He grimaced involuntarily and gingerly groped the bandage on his head; it was no longer bleeding, but he shouldn''t touch the bruise site just yet. He''d stumbled and banged his head on a rock! As Satre said he wouldn''t have needed a healer if he''d have fallen a little lower and hit his temple. But now he could appreciate the insidiousness of illusion: the hole in the floor, the edge of which he had tripped over, was small enough and he could have easily stepped over it. Unless, of course, he was absolutely certain that he was walking on the clouds like on a sidewalk.


    Now he will try not to make the same mistakes again, having learned firmly that he should not believe in mirages, no matter how pleasant and attractive they might be. That was the end of their expedition: who in such a situation would have continued on the trail, leaving behind a wounded comrade? Thanks to his friends - without them it would not have been possible to get over the "skating rink" and climb the ledge at the beginning of the minus second tier. The pain pulsing inside his skull clouded his consciousness - the climbs were especially difficult to overcome. Their backpacks remained there, in the hiding place - it was good that they had made a place for it beforehand. When they reached the exit of the dungeon, Mez''A''Shib looked warily out into the tunnel before he signaled to follow him. Fortunately, the dwarves didn''t elicit details, only sent Ri-Bo to the medical aid station to bring Satre from there. Naar-Tam gave Rugud the scrolls found under the statue, which the dwarves seemed to be quite interested in since no one had ever brought them anything like that before. Satre, who arrived shortly thereafter, treated and bandaged Tim''s wound, then gave him a healing potion to drink, and urged him to go to bed immediately upon returning in his room. In case anyone came across them on the way there, the explanation had been made in advance - Tim had fallen from a tree, where he had decided to climb for some reason. Tim didn''t remember if they had to explain this to anyone - the potion soon was beginning to work, the pain was slightly dulled and he was pulling himself to sleep. Therefore, when he got to his own room, he immediately fell onto the bed, falling asleep almost instantly.


    He wish he''d noticed what time they came back. Now, judging by the mazarine eye, it was midnight. What a pity his arrogance had caused their expedition to end so quickly! His friends would certainly not hold it against him, but he would not soon forgive himself. In principle, he could compensate by giving his share of what was found - if they would take it. How are they now, by the way? It was too far to the drow''s room, but getting to the others wouldn''t be a problem - unless they''d gone to bed, of course.


    But when he tried to sit up on the bed, the throbbing pain returned. He would reach for the vial that Satre had given him to take regularly - it was now on the table. But first he would have to lie still for a while until the pain subsided slightly.


    A light, on the edge of perception, knock on the door distracted him from contemplating the ceiling. Tim wondered which friend had decided to visit him first. In his mind Tim sent a command to the door to open, and - what a surprise! - Selkise entered the room.


    "How badly does it hurt?" she asked in a serious, even slightly stern voice, not wasting time greeting him.


    "It''s nothing, just a scratch!" Tim joked cheerfully, but then he puckered up, blurring the effect of the joke.


    "Liar. Let me see for myself!" saying in an irreconcilable tone, she pulled a chair to the bed, sat down on it, and with two fingers around the wrist of his right hand listened for some time to something that only she could hear. Then she touched his forehead. The coldness of her palm burned at first, and then it was as if it absorbed his inner heat and pain. And Tim felt surprisingly comfortable and at peace with himself.


    "Thank you. You are a real healer!" he thanked her from the bottom of his heart.


    "I try as hard as I can," Selkise replied without a smile, not giving in to the praise. "Tell me what you encountered down this time there, on the lower tiers."


    "But... how do you know!?"


    "Where else would you get a wound like that? If you fell out of a tree, you''d probably bruise your bottom. And why would you climb it?"


    You can''t deny her perceptiveness, she''s got him in a game of chicken again. If he''d had his head all right, he wouldn''t have given in so easily. And when the pain went away, he just relaxed, and that was the result.


    "It''s not easy to cheat you," he admitted reluctantly.


    "Why should it be? Am I your enemy? And didn''t I promise to keep quiet about everything I heard?"


    It''s hard to argue with logic, and Tim had to start the story. The details of their first visit to the dungeon were already known, so Tim began with the map that had led them through the labyrinth. When he reached the Mirror in his narrative, Tim remembered the strange word written on it.


    "Do you happen to know what ''Yuenhee'' means?"


    "Yuenhee?" Selkise wondered. "It''s one of the girls'' names on Olmari. It''s not really a name for children now, but it was popular in my great-grandfathers'' time. Why did you mention it?"


    She was horrified when she heard the details.


    "You, boys, are incorrigible in their stupidity! Do you have any idea what you''ve done? With the magic of blood you can do many terrible things and even open the door to the realm of the dead! All you have to do is to write the name of the one you wish to see on the glass with your own blood, and his soul will come to you from there. When you called that name and touched the glass, you put the magic into action, opening the door again. But there was no one to warn you: that world is full of dangerous creatures! That''s why our wizards have to put up guard before they go there. You have to thank your friends because it wouldn''t be you who came back from there. If you came back at all."


    "But the one who wrote in blood... did he really stay there?"


    "Ask an easier question. Maybe he had an amulet of protection. Or a helper who would interrupt the ritual if it got out of hand."


    "Is it really possible to communicate with any soul in this way?"


    "Theoretically, yes. But in reality, only Great Masters can do it. Unless you''re related to the deceased by family or spiritual ties, in which case it might work for the apprentice, too. But I wouldn''t try it," she summed up with her lips pressed together.


    Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.


    Tim didn''t mention the discovery under the statue just in case, and the description of the cold in the tunnel and the ''skating rink'' didn''t particularly interest her - unlike the illusions behind the painted wall.


    "Are you sure you saw the same thing?" she asked toward the end.


    The question puzzled Tim - he hadn''t even thought about it, taking the visions for what they were. But hardly any purely earthly images could appear to his friends from other planets! Swamp frogs, for example, are not likely to be found in the dungeons where the drowes live, though some source of water must be there - no life is possible without it, and dark elves are no exception. To tell the truth, he had never bothered to find out what animals lived in the Earth''s underground waterways, but somehow it seemed that frogs weren''t supposed to be there. Frogs always live on the surface.


    Well, when he''ll see his friends, he ask them to tell more details about their visions.


    ''I seem to have bored you a little," Selkise interpreted his silence in her own way. "Rest!"


    She touched his forehead again, and a warm wave coursed through his body, lulling him into oblivion.


    By the time Tim woke up, it was already dawn. The nightmares no longer plagued him, the pain was gone, and he felt as if he had been born again. He was even able to get out of bed effortlessly. Maybe he doesn''t need the potion now.


    After thinking for a while, he still took a sip or two of the tincture. Most likely, in addition to the medication, it also contained soporifics, because a couple of minutes later he felt sleepy again. But the effect was weaker this time, maybe because he had had a good night''s sleep, and his body did not want to go back to bed. It turns out that Selkise''s magic is much more effective than the medicines from the medical aid station! She''s a real White magician - it''ll be a long time before he can do something like that. If he can do it at all - not everyone has the ability to heal. And he still hadn''t made good on his promise to talk to his friends about her participation in the expedition. She didn''t reproach him, didn''t even remind him, but that didn''t make him feel any better. And Tim felt a little ashamed that he hadn''t kept his word. He will definitely do it, but not tonight, or his friends will wonder why he suddenly bothered to add a girl to their team. It''s better not mention the night visit of Selkise at all, or he''ll be the object of ridicule and friendly taunts.


    Tim could not be alone with his own thoughts for long as Ri-Bo and Naar-Tam came to visit him.


    "We brought something to eat!" they poured the contents of their pockets onto the table. "We thought it''s better for you not show your face in the dining room, or anywhere else, otherwise you''d be bothered with questions. How are you feeling now?"


    "More or less. I might be able to take the bandage off tomorrow. Did anyone ask for me?"


    "Nah, not many people saw us yesterday!" Ri-Bo reported cheerfully.


    "Only three, actually: Taeron, Shiimaa and Jaamite," Naar-Tam explained. "But they did not ask us any questions. Maybe they simply didn''t notice the bandage because they saw us from afar."


    But then how did Selkise know? Probably from Jaamite, they were sort of friends. Though Tim had never seen her in the tunnel leading to their rooms. But maybe she''s just shy of showing up in the boys'' compartment.


    "We took another walk to the dwarves yesterday, after we had made sure you were all right," the peirot admitted, "to tell them more about what happened, and what we saw along the way. Rugud promised to get a mag-detector for us, and also protection rings, amulets, and even glasses enchanted with True Sight, so we wouldn''t be fooled by illusions."


    "Did our gift make him so generous?" Tim chuckled.


    "I suppose so. If he really give us what he were promised, we''ll bring him some more sheets!"


    "When''s the next expedition, have you discussed it?"


    "No, it''s not time for that yet! Kobold has a new potion to make. And in the next few days the dwarves will be busy preparing for the feast."


    "What feast?"


    "You''re really something! It looks like your head was pretty badly hurt! It''s New Year''s Eve! Today is the eighteenth day of the ninth month!"


    Tim had indeed overlooked this fact. On Earth the New Year was still too far away (he had been invited to study magic in April), and he never could not make friends with the local calendar: the days were perceived simply as numbers in the calendar grid.


    "Perhaps it would be a holiday dinner again!" Ri-Bo licked his eyes dreamily.


    "So we won''t have class until next year."


    "Yeah. The teachers need a break from us, too!"


    "They didn''t do much with us. We only met with each of them twice! Not counting, of course, the lunch on the day we arrived at school."


    "So, on New Year feast we will see them for the fourth time!"


    They chatted some more, and then the friends left, wishing him a speedy recovery from his ''battle wound'' and promising to stop by again in the evening, and to bring some more food from the dining room as well.


    But even if Tim was going to enjoy the peace and quiet, it still wouldn''t work out. He had never had so many guests as he had that day. Chilajt and Mikpir arrived first, and they were strongly surprised where and how he could have fallen so badly. Chilajt kissed him again, right on the bruised spot - it''s saying that it promotes healing, or at least that''s how gorgon people do it. Gook-Luk and Patpako came in next, and the girl, chattering away, kept trying to find out more about what had happened, so Tim''s head began to hurt. At least her companion had kept silent the whole time, and only in the end asked permission to try a healing spell on him. Of course, Tim agreed - why not, it couldn''t get any worse. It really didn''t get any worse, though he didn''t feel much relief. But not to disappoint Patpako, he said it had gotten a little better. It wasn''t until the guests left that he really felt better.


    But soon the elves arrived, five of them at once - Eliavin and his twin sister, Gillmir, Faelinn, and Iwiel. Fortunately, they did not tire the ''sick man'' with idle chatter; after making sure that nothing serious had happened to Tim (as it turned out, someone had managed to spread a rumor that the boy had broken his head and was now almost dying), they wished him a speedy recovery and quietly departed.


    Even his neighbor, the gaarsh, had paid him a visit, on the pretext that he should check one of the formulas of Green magic, which had been crossed out in his textbook for some reason. He didn''t inquire after his well-being (such questions are considered improper on his home planet), only thanked him for his assistance. On the other hand orcs, who came soon, did not feel any shyness: they piled the whole table with meat crackers, at the same time expressing noisy delight that their ''teacher of literature'' was alive and not even badly hurt. It was hard to say how long Tim would have been able to endure all this, but Rumara intervened, saying that enough for today, the human needed to get his head in order. Because, unlike some people, he also thinks with it.


    That''s right, Tim grinned to himself.


    There were no more visitors until the evening, except for Naar-Tam and Ri-Bo, who had brought sweets again. They were surprised to find that they weren''t the only ones who had come up with the idea of treating the "sick one" with goodies.


    And only when the sun had set below the horizon and the stars began to appear in the sky, the tentative knock at the door announced the arrival of Mez''A''Shib. He seemed to have picked a good time - no one could be expected to visit, and no one would bother to talk quietly and discuss some important things. The news that the drow had brought with them was both frightened and alarmed.


    "Pulsok got some voluntary helpers," he said with a sour expression. "Kunfor at the top and Germeht at the bottom, both with armbands on, keeping an eye on who goes where."


    "They can''t do anything to us during the day anyway."


    "That''s true, but it''s not very nice to be watched. Persons on duty, ashlimu nishmah (an intricate swear word uttered by the drow, the ring could not translate), may the deepest crevice be their last resting place! To talk to the kobold, I had to trick, pretending to go to the dining room, and as soon as Germeht was distracted by Alkitmi, I snuck into another tunnel. Tullum already knew about our adventure - he must have had time to talk to the dwarves. All I had to do was to clear up a few details. I paid for the potion and left an advance for the next."


    "Recoup the loss from my share."


    "What for? I took from the pile, and the rest was divided equally. A pity, of course, that the second expedition didn''t bring much."


    "And all because of me. That is why I propose to compensate for the loss at least this way."


    "Don''t be silly. Any one of us could be in your shoes. When I fell off the cliff at the beginning of the minus second tier and then, on the ''skating rink'', there were no serious consequences, but it could have been different, right?"


    "I certainly would not have demanded payment for disrupting the expedition."


    "Why should I? Just because I''m a drow? Of course, if it had been Shin, she would have taken the lion''s share without a reason. But not all drowes are like she. Don''t worry, we''ll get more next time! Kobold promised to brew a potion that would work like True Sight. Otherwise we might fall into another trap."


    "By the way, since you mentioned the Potions Science..."


    Tim climbed into the wardrobe and pulled out a folded quadruple sheet from under a pile of bed linen.


    "Here, look at this!"


    "What is it?"


    "A class schedule from five hundred years ago! I happened to find it in one of my books as a bookmark."


    Mez''A''Shib studied it with great interest.


    "Yes, it used to be so much more fun. May I take the sheet with me and show it to the kobold? No one else, and I''ll return it at once," he promised hurriedly, as if afraid of rejection.


    But Tim immediately agreed.


    "Of course. Tullum would be amused to know that there were once alchemy teachers here."


    "Almost certainly. And now the second piece of news I heard from him: the teachers had been quietly advised not to delay our studies and to complete them within the next year."


    "But why?"


    "How should I know? Kobold himself does not know, he found out it by chance from Iskitt, who stopped by the laboratory for scientific interest."


    Tim was literally shocked to hear this. Of course, he had nothing against going home sooner. But, on the other hand, would he (and his classmates, too) have time to learn all the wisdom of sorcery in such a short time?


    "And the teachers agreed to this?"


    "Most likely," Mez''A''Shib shrugged. "I agree, it''s all very strange. I''ve noticed that when I think about it, it gives me a headache. And then I catch myself thinking, I don''t want to think about it. Have you ever had anything like that?"


    "I have," Tim said grudgingly. "We''ll have to ask the others if they''ve had the same experience. By the way, did you notice that in all the time we were at school, none of the previous graduates showed up here? Do you know why?"


    TO BE CONTINUED...