My Path to Magic 2: A Combat Alchemist by Irina Syromyatnikova Page A
Authors: Irina Syromyatnikova
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premiere."
The next unusual thing - the northerner was interested in books – was accepted by Dennis a little easier. He vowed to get a membership to the famous metropolitan library for Mr. Tangor and gloated a bit, thinking that the senior curator would break his back to fulfill this promise. Dennis was determined to light up an icon lamp to his ancestral spirits and donate an incense stick to the Custodian of the Desert, for the exotic interests of his charge promised him nothing but problems. But the rapport was established, and the time until sunset flew by unnoticed. When darkness fell on the hot streets of Ho-Carg, the car promised by Mr. Felister arrived to pick them up. Tangor mannerly spread a cloth on the car seat and let his zombie-dog sit on it, ignoring the disgruntled looks of the driver. Dennis single-handedly pushed the giant suitcase in the trunk, and the ministerial car - a cumbersome monster with a heat pump on the roof - slowly moved, sharing the streets with horse-drawn phaetons, white shiny limousines, and rickshaws.
The capital seemed to come out of its midday torpor: on recently quiet streets one could now hear the shrill signals of horns and laughter and murmurs of thousands of voices, though they were muffled by the time they reached the cabin. The zombie-dog delicately smelled of lilies, the necromancer smelled of nothing at all, and Dennis began to feel unconscious respect for him. Tangor looked like a well-bred magician; even his strange interests seemed to bear the stamp of his aristocratic origin.
And yet, when the car arrived at the ministry's hotel, Dennis experienced incredible relief. It remained to put the necromancer in his room, show him the direction of the pool and the dining room, and then he would be free until tomorrow morning.
The curator dragged his charge's luggage with all possible haste to the third porch of the building, but Tangor himself wasn't in a hurry, diligently looking around as if afraid of something. The dark mage's fears proved true: as they approached the porch its door flew open with a kick, and a grim stranger in a military cap appeared on the threshold, his clothes marked with the fluorescent filaments of officer insignia. Dennis dashed aside, pulling away the suitcase: he instantly recognized by the arrangement of stripes the most bellicose of their client varieties. A combat mage in the rank of army colonel came out from the depth of the entrance with the dignity of a mountain lion and, without glancing aside, moved in the direction of the parking lot for ministry vehicles. Mr. Tangor cautiously stepped aside and watched his colleague passing by. The curator took a breath - they had the misfortune of running into Tangor's neighbor and fearlessly entered the building. There were no other tenants in this two-unit section.
I nside, the mage meticulously checked the quality of the chemicals delivered by Mr. Felister, the presence of sheets and towels in the room, whether there was a bucket of water for his zombie and, finally, unable to nag at anything, Mr. Tangor waved his hand letting his curator go. He did not have to repeat; Dennis immediately hid behind the door.
"Congratulations on the first day of your solo job!" the senior curator patiently waited for his younger colleague at the porch. "How is he?"
"We came across his neighbor at the entrance," Dennis said.
The chief shook his head sympathetically. "It happens. What do you have planned for tomorrow?"
Dennis listed the enchanting plans of his charge. "Also, he needs a map of the city with all the streets."
" Will do," Mr. Felister promised. "Try to persuade him not to take the beast along. Perhaps, he will get access to the library with the zombie, but they will not let the dog into the botanical garden under any circumstances. By the way, are you absolutely sure he wants to visit the botanical garden?" Dennis nodded grimly. "An odd interest."
" Very true."
"Let him run around to weary
The next unusual thing - the northerner was interested in books – was accepted by Dennis a little easier. He vowed to get a membership to the famous metropolitan library for Mr. Tangor and gloated a bit, thinking that the senior curator would break his back to fulfill this promise. Dennis was determined to light up an icon lamp to his ancestral spirits and donate an incense stick to the Custodian of the Desert, for the exotic interests of his charge promised him nothing but problems. But the rapport was established, and the time until sunset flew by unnoticed. When darkness fell on the hot streets of Ho-Carg, the car promised by Mr. Felister arrived to pick them up. Tangor mannerly spread a cloth on the car seat and let his zombie-dog sit on it, ignoring the disgruntled looks of the driver. Dennis single-handedly pushed the giant suitcase in the trunk, and the ministerial car - a cumbersome monster with a heat pump on the roof - slowly moved, sharing the streets with horse-drawn phaetons, white shiny limousines, and rickshaws.
The capital seemed to come out of its midday torpor: on recently quiet streets one could now hear the shrill signals of horns and laughter and murmurs of thousands of voices, though they were muffled by the time they reached the cabin. The zombie-dog delicately smelled of lilies, the necromancer smelled of nothing at all, and Dennis began to feel unconscious respect for him. Tangor looked like a well-bred magician; even his strange interests seemed to bear the stamp of his aristocratic origin.
And yet, when the car arrived at the ministry's hotel, Dennis experienced incredible relief. It remained to put the necromancer in his room, show him the direction of the pool and the dining room, and then he would be free until tomorrow morning.
The curator dragged his charge's luggage with all possible haste to the third porch of the building, but Tangor himself wasn't in a hurry, diligently looking around as if afraid of something. The dark mage's fears proved true: as they approached the porch its door flew open with a kick, and a grim stranger in a military cap appeared on the threshold, his clothes marked with the fluorescent filaments of officer insignia. Dennis dashed aside, pulling away the suitcase: he instantly recognized by the arrangement of stripes the most bellicose of their client varieties. A combat mage in the rank of army colonel came out from the depth of the entrance with the dignity of a mountain lion and, without glancing aside, moved in the direction of the parking lot for ministry vehicles. Mr. Tangor cautiously stepped aside and watched his colleague passing by. The curator took a breath - they had the misfortune of running into Tangor's neighbor and fearlessly entered the building. There were no other tenants in this two-unit section.
I nside, the mage meticulously checked the quality of the chemicals delivered by Mr. Felister, the presence of sheets and towels in the room, whether there was a bucket of water for his zombie and, finally, unable to nag at anything, Mr. Tangor waved his hand letting his curator go. He did not have to repeat; Dennis immediately hid behind the door.
"Congratulations on the first day of your solo job!" the senior curator patiently waited for his younger colleague at the porch. "How is he?"
"We came across his neighbor at the entrance," Dennis said.
The chief shook his head sympathetically. "It happens. What do you have planned for tomorrow?"
Dennis listed the enchanting plans of his charge. "Also, he needs a map of the city with all the streets."
" Will do," Mr. Felister promised. "Try to persuade him not to take the beast along. Perhaps, he will get access to the library with the zombie, but they will not let the dog into the botanical garden under any circumstances. By the way, are you absolutely sure he wants to visit the botanical garden?" Dennis nodded grimly. "An odd interest."
" Very true."
"Let him run around to weary
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