My Path to Magic 2: A Combat Alchemist by Irina Syromyatnikova Page B
Authors: Irina Syromyatnikova
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himself. On Monday he'll be calmer."
Dennis nodded and dragged his feet to the gates and out of the hotel's territory; he wasn't eligible for a free drive in a ministry vehicle, and a rickshaw was too expensive; he had to go to the Old Blocks on foot.
The city seethed and sparkled with lights, as if trying to help the sky regain its daylight rage. With the fall of twilight the streets became filled with people. In the middle of summer the capital almost completely shifted to a nocturnal mode of living. Dandies in brightly embroidered beaux gowns sedately walked along the streets, clerks in suits hurried to their homes, other people cheerfully clattered around. And a strong smell hovered above this bustle. Dennis, born in Ho-Carg, unmistakably distinguished its origin: it was the smell of sweaty and dirty human bodies - a sure sign of poverty and disease. Lately, this sweetish stench was everywhere, spread by a crowd of people from Arango, who literally flooded the city. These poor beings took up all the low-wage jobs and, unable to cope with the high cost of the metropolitan life, sheltered in basements in horribly unsanitary conditions, threatening the rest of the city with the specter of a new plague.
There were lobby talks in the ministry that the government had doubled the troops at the expense of northerners and was about to send them to the depopulated lands of Arango province, which was now treated as enemy territory. Kashtadar was bulk-buying from refugee children with magic abilities, and residents of the regions affected by the invasion of the Arango escapees demanded that the poor people be sent back to the East Coast.
"Why didn' t they die in the place where they were born?" Dennis could not help thinking, coming across an unkempt vagabond in the crowd, and he immediately felt ashamed of his thoughts: he considered himself a humane and enlightened man. But that stench…It was driving him crazy.
* * *
I couldn't say that I was pleased with the chance to visit the capital during summer. It was not exactly my dream to get into the desert at its hottest. How did it happen that Ingernika's capital was settled in such a vile place? Perhaps, because in the entire former Kingdom of Ingerland, Ho-Carg was the only (literally the only) city left intact after King Girane and the father-inquisitors' escapades. Anyway, one could have chosen a better place for the capital.
A h eat pump on the roof of our train was on its last legs; I felt like a steak traveling through the oven. Looking through the train window at the salt pits, which were mined for saltpeter from time immemorial, I pondered that I would hardly enjoy a town founded by slaves and convicts. I was about to hate Ho-Carg, but the capital's service stunned me!
Two boobies from the local NZAMIPS met me on the platf orm, posing as gracious hosts. I managed to shake off my suitcase on them at once - it was incredibly heavy because of the lead enchanted padding at the bottom which hid Uncle's book from prying eyes. Then they offered a free dinner. Yes, they paid for me and didn't even blink!
I felt like a real dark magician, and I liked that feeling! Then there was a free ride in a car with a personal driver, free chemicals, a pair of socks my size and slippers in the room. My mood spoiled at the realization that I was not the only one enjoying such treatment.
Early in the morning I deci ded to try a local bathhouse. It was a bit unusual: it had a few basins and no shower. Instead, there was a common swimming pool, where for the first time in my life I saw four dark magicians spending time together without fighting. Two "cleaners" - you could always recognize them by their looks - sluggishly swore at some officials. Third, a lean mage from the army (judging by his muscles and tan) meditated with a damp cloth on his head. Fourth, an elderly magician was sadly sitting on a stair in the corner of the pool. As soon as I recalled how hot it was outside during
Dennis nodded and dragged his feet to the gates and out of the hotel's territory; he wasn't eligible for a free drive in a ministry vehicle, and a rickshaw was too expensive; he had to go to the Old Blocks on foot.
The city seethed and sparkled with lights, as if trying to help the sky regain its daylight rage. With the fall of twilight the streets became filled with people. In the middle of summer the capital almost completely shifted to a nocturnal mode of living. Dandies in brightly embroidered beaux gowns sedately walked along the streets, clerks in suits hurried to their homes, other people cheerfully clattered around. And a strong smell hovered above this bustle. Dennis, born in Ho-Carg, unmistakably distinguished its origin: it was the smell of sweaty and dirty human bodies - a sure sign of poverty and disease. Lately, this sweetish stench was everywhere, spread by a crowd of people from Arango, who literally flooded the city. These poor beings took up all the low-wage jobs and, unable to cope with the high cost of the metropolitan life, sheltered in basements in horribly unsanitary conditions, threatening the rest of the city with the specter of a new plague.
There were lobby talks in the ministry that the government had doubled the troops at the expense of northerners and was about to send them to the depopulated lands of Arango province, which was now treated as enemy territory. Kashtadar was bulk-buying from refugee children with magic abilities, and residents of the regions affected by the invasion of the Arango escapees demanded that the poor people be sent back to the East Coast.
"Why didn' t they die in the place where they were born?" Dennis could not help thinking, coming across an unkempt vagabond in the crowd, and he immediately felt ashamed of his thoughts: he considered himself a humane and enlightened man. But that stench…It was driving him crazy.
* * *
I couldn't say that I was pleased with the chance to visit the capital during summer. It was not exactly my dream to get into the desert at its hottest. How did it happen that Ingernika's capital was settled in such a vile place? Perhaps, because in the entire former Kingdom of Ingerland, Ho-Carg was the only (literally the only) city left intact after King Girane and the father-inquisitors' escapades. Anyway, one could have chosen a better place for the capital.
A h eat pump on the roof of our train was on its last legs; I felt like a steak traveling through the oven. Looking through the train window at the salt pits, which were mined for saltpeter from time immemorial, I pondered that I would hardly enjoy a town founded by slaves and convicts. I was about to hate Ho-Carg, but the capital's service stunned me!
Two boobies from the local NZAMIPS met me on the platf orm, posing as gracious hosts. I managed to shake off my suitcase on them at once - it was incredibly heavy because of the lead enchanted padding at the bottom which hid Uncle's book from prying eyes. Then they offered a free dinner. Yes, they paid for me and didn't even blink!
I felt like a real dark magician, and I liked that feeling! Then there was a free ride in a car with a personal driver, free chemicals, a pair of socks my size and slippers in the room. My mood spoiled at the realization that I was not the only one enjoying such treatment.
Early in the morning I deci ded to try a local bathhouse. It was a bit unusual: it had a few basins and no shower. Instead, there was a common swimming pool, where for the first time in my life I saw four dark magicians spending time together without fighting. Two "cleaners" - you could always recognize them by their looks - sluggishly swore at some officials. Third, a lean mage from the army (judging by his muscles and tan) meditated with a damp cloth on his head. Fourth, an elderly magician was sadly sitting on a stair in the corner of the pool. As soon as I recalled how hot it was outside during
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