Shmagic

SHMAGIC

Henri Lion Oldie

Copyright Henry Lion Oldie 2012

Published by K-Group at Smashwords.

Letter of Appreciation

From both of our hearts, we would like to thank our excellent translators Anna Kimaeva and Ekaterina Kimaeva (Toronto, Canada). Without them, our characters would have never spoken English. We also thank Dmitriy Kimaev (Toronto, Canada), our irreplaceable guide in the electronic labyrinth of modern computer and internet technologies.

A huge thanks to Erick Mills and Calin Sindile (Toronto, Canada) for the preliminary proofreading of the text; to the volunteers and interns of DePaul University: Sarah Lovinggood, Majda Jakupovic, and Jessica Olson (Chicago, USA), for their help with the final proofreading of Shmagic, and to Brett Mullenbrock for editing the book. We appreciate the work of Chris Green (Chicago, USA), Professor at DePaul University, who organized an internship/volunteer program for proofreading and editing our books by DePaul students.

Much gratitude also goes to Alexander Deviatkin (Kharkov, Ukraine), the creator of our English WEB-site: www.oldie-worlds.com

Thanks to our first publisher, friend, and business partner Leonid Shkurovich (Moscow, Russia), for his belief in our talent, his care of our texts, and his cooperation with us over the years.

Thanks to Oleg Korzh (Kharkov, Ukraine) for the cover he created for Shmagic.

Thanks to Andrey Pechenezhsky (Kharkov, Ukraine) for the inside black-white illustrations.

Thanks to our wonderful wives, Elena Ladyzhenskaya and Bronya Gromova, our first readers and critics, for their love, patience, and support. Bronya Gromova created the book-trailer for Shmagic. Thanks to Kevin Smith (New York, USA) for the text he read for the book-trailer.

Lastly, thanks to our children: Marianna, Oleg Ladyzhensky’s daughter, and Sergey, Dmitry Gromov’s son, for their strength and support.

Sincerely yours,

Dmitry Gromov + Oleg Ladyzhensky = Henry Lion Oldie.

SHMAGIC

You can find words from prophets,

But words are better from the mute,

And colors are brighter from the blind,

Where points of view are really found

And you from a burst of understanding

Thyself unravel till the end.

(Arseny Tarkovsky)

A cup from which you can not drink, a sword with which you cannot cut, a book written in a foreign language, music heard only by the musician. Madness? Yes, of course. However, the older I get, the more I dream about that cup, that sword and that book. And you, fools, ask me to shatter mountains and send rivers flowing in the opposite way! No more, let me grow old in peace..

(From the secret writings of Nihon the Gray Haired)

PROLOGUE

The woods were stubbornly playing hide and seek with the women. If Jadwiga had gone berry-picking alone, she would have never found the meadow with the purpleberry bushes. Trails and paths kept appearing around them, leading to wind-fallen trees and wrong directions.

Who was responsible? The old Forest Goblin? He had no reason to be upset. Before entering the woods, Malice whispered all the necessary incantations, blessed her forehead with a shamrock and spilled some Clearway potion on the path. Maybe she felt that something was wrong. People normally walked in Philkin Forest with no trouble at all, but today was different and even the witch’s magic did not work. The women wandered for more than an hour in the forest until they saw a burned pine that was often used as a pointer. Black like a widow at a funeral, the pine mournfully stretched out its dry branches in the right direction.

Jadwiga sighed with relief and almost opened her mouth to thank the old Forest Goblin, but received a terrible, scorpion-like glare from her friend and did not say a word.

Malice was a small and simple woman who everyone in town had known since she was a child. She was a local witch, not a strange sorceress that people were scared to approach; and she was really quite ordinary and also younger than Jadwiga. Even today, men followed Malice with their gazes. However, when some of them tried to make a move on her, one of her glares would freeze their feet right to the ground. Then all they wanted was to run as far away as possible—it did not matter where, just away from her, even if their legs felt stiff...

Maybe they should go home? The purpleberry bushes be damned!

Of course purpleberry was very useful and suited anyone’s taste. It was used for protection charms and good jams. When people made lilac-colored juft they also added purpleberry in their tanning tubs. Jadwiga’s husband had an order for six packs of such juft. If she came home with an empty basket, Leon would scold her; maybe even beat her. Leon was quick to anger... What should she do - leave or stay? He might beat her, but it's not as if it would be for the first time.

Jadwiga looked silently at her companion. She was aware that the last word would belong to the witch. Even though Malice was too young to be in charge, she always ended up making the decisions.

Jadwiga did not receive a verbal response. Malice took a long breath. She shook her head as if trying to fight back hallucinations, and her red curls bounced on her shoulders. Then she continued toward the direction shown by the branch. She did not turn to Jadwiga, knowing that her friend would follow her.

Spring moss squeaked softly and felt slippery under their feet. It was always wet here even if the summer was hot. Wet, but not marshy. Jadwiga took in her surroundings. There were no chirping birds, no buzzing mosquitoes, and no movement in the leaves. The air was thick with a cold haze and promises of a thunderstorm. The witch stopped and touched the air in front of her with her hand. She took a step and then another one. Jadwiga hurried; she was afraid of being left alone in the silent forest.

...I know you can. You must...Try harder...

At that moment, the woman felt as if she were covered by a gray fog with furnace-black shadows swarming in it. The colors of the day faded; the woods looked ash-gray and lifeless. Panicking, Jadwiga rushed forward, but her movements were slowed as if she were running through jelly.

A sound resembling the twang of a guitar was heard in the distance and the world regained its colors. Thorny bushes of purpleberry with blue-gray berries and waxy leaves were right at the tips of her fingers. Mindlessly, Jadwiga reached for the berries and stopped, silently calling herself stupid.

The woman realized that there were people in the meadow. They were strangers, not the local folks. Jadwiga could not see what the people were doing. Malice hid quickly and turned to Jadwiga waving her hand angrily. Bend down, you idiot! They will see you! she yelled. Malice had concealed herself behind some branches. Jadwiga obediently crouched down. It was scary to spy on these people; they might realize she was here. She also really wanted to see something...On all fours, Jadwiga crawled along the thorny wall and found a narrow gap. With a sinking heart she carefully looked out.

Septy, what's going on? A man asked.

I can barely see. Yes, here... D-devil, it disappeared again! A sickle almost got him... Septy answered.

"Almost is not good enough…Baby, do you understand me? Try again. Try with all your strength or I will not be pleased. Even the demons of Lower Mamma are afraid of folks such as me."

I can’t! I can’t! I can do it in a different way... The girl screamed.

Baby, you are bad. Elm, tell her.

Yeah, Fort, I will.

I told you a hundred times, do not call me Fort!

Three men forming an irregular triangle stood at the edge of the meadow. Seven torches: five long ones and two short ones were inside the triangle.

Why do they need torches? Jadwiga wondered. It’s a sunny day. The flames look strange: as if they are being eaten by rot. A glassy haze vibrated between the torches; it looked like the haze above a hot road on a sunny day. A girl moved inside the haze. She was a small, light-haired and barefoot kid, seven or eight years old. Her face looked odd. Was the poor girl crying? Or was the haze twisting her features?

One of the men moved. A long gray cloak shifted; a wide-flap hat, making him look like a mushroom, swung as it hid his face in its shadows. Two thin hands came out from the cloak and caught an invisible leash. The girl twitched as if she had been slapped on the face. She grabbed her throat wheezing. There was a whip of the invisible lash in response. The victim twisted like a snake and vainly tried to protect herself from the blows. Her movements made her body seem boneless.

Jadwiga pursed her lips and tried not to cry out.

Stop it! I will try! The girl cried.

Go on then, do your best!

The girl sighed and looked down. Thin and dressed in yellow, she looked like a chick among hawks. Jadwiga’s heart broke. How could she help? It was clear that the men were wizards. If she got involved, they would transform her into a toad or something more horrible, as Jadwiga’s mother had told her when she was a young girl.

The woman closed her eyes. When she opened them again, the girl slowly stretched out her hands. What was she trying to do? Fly? Jadwiga could see the girl was not looking down any more. Now, ugly green lights twinkled in the eyes of the small creature, who now looked much older than before.

Maybe it was the reflection from the magic torches?

The girl’s hands waived and moved like drifting weeds. Fingers pulled, ripped, tied, and twitched, weaving an imaginary lace pattern. Her movements resembled those of the wizard wearing the gray cloak, when he was using the whip.

Did someone on the other end of her invisible threads wheeze and coil up in pain? Was he also begging, ‘Don't do it!’ and whispering, ‘I will try harder!’ Jadwiga thought to herself as she broke into a cold sweat. Run! I should run away from this accursed place! I do not care if Leon beats me! she thought. Jadwiga did not want to see, hear, or think about this place anymore...

Okay, very good... c’mon, c’mon!

"Damn it! He felt us!

Who?

Combat Magician of the Throne...

A net! Quickly! Help me!

What about her?

Who cares! This is more important...

Jadwiga never found out what was more important to the wizard-torturers. The air filled with blackness, and her ears popped. A hurricane blew and scattered the torches, crying with birds’ voices. The sun looked like the yolk from a boiled egg. A thick and starless night had fallen…

Through the howls of the roaming storm Jadwiga heard Malice cry. The witch was babbling some gibberish, and Jadwiga saw a triumphant smile on the girl’s face, as she slipped out like a snake from the broken barrier.

The old Forest Goblin hid in a distant ravine; he was scared and came out again only later in the evening.

CAPUT I

Seeing in the magician’s tent

Three beauties, looking innocent,

All neighboring knights have come…

It was a bad idea to eat soaked trepang for supper! This thought was annoying Andrea Musculus, a magician, as his carriage entered Yatritsa. The thought had an impressive array of baggage with it: contrition, remorse, self-criticism, self-reproach, and nausea. All of these were nested in his stomach, which screamed at his conscience: You did not stop! Sinner! That’s what you get. An experienced magician and an authorized representative of Prospero Kolraun himself (another talented malefic and most likely the future Court Malefic of King Edward II), Andrea Musculus could have dealt swiftly with those mean, insurgent thoughts. He could have distracted them more quickly than Duke Arnold the Robust had suppressed the Revolt of Libellers. However, this army of enemies seemed innumerable and spread like locusts in a wheat field, and his power was required for other deeds.

May the chef from Potbellied Fawn boil in Lower Mamma’s kingdom! With dill, seeds of caraway, and an aromatic pickle solution served in a separate china cups, decorated with a couple of sweet pheasants cooing on the bottom!... Whether the pheasants actually cooed or not was not really important at the moment.

The wheels rolled along the cobblestone road. After the entrance to customs, where dark-skinned slave-clairvoyants carefully checked the emanations of the luggage and the purses of the guests, the carriage turned at the Reindeer Well to the district of the Official Bribe-Takers. Here was the Square of The Third Edictorium with its monument to Cannon the Barbarian; further down was the three-story Cheerful Brothers Monastery, decorated with small towers. Wind danced on the monastery walls and blew open their flag with the slogan: Say NO to depression!

Andrea sat on the box and artfully drove the carriage. Yes, it was unworthy work for a certified wizard, but it was an inadmissible risk to take a strong and trusted coachman on this voyage. Suffering from stomach pains, Musculus cursed the eaten trepang, gluttony, his fortune, and certainly the three virgins of Lille, who were inside the carriage.

The virgins from Lille, which was close to Dungopea, were a rare and special product.

Smack!

That was Tjaden Stern, a young guard from the security attached to Musculus; he had thrown another quail egg. Tjaden sat on the roof of the carriage with a basket of charmed eggs, which had been bought at the nearest farm and magically spoiled by the certified wizard. Tjaden looked over the crowd like a shepherd over his willful herd of billy goats, as if any idiot would actually try to pasture such a herd.

Even though nobody could see the three virgins of Lille behind the closed windows of the carriage (which were reinforced with steel bars), men of Yatritsa—teenagers, adults and seniors—unconsciously picked up their smell and followed the carriage, shivering lustfully. Faithful wives and girlfriends pulled some of their men away, but the others had to be stopped by two hefty corporals armed with whacking staves about seven feet in length. At the back of the carriage, the guards handled weapons and made the carriage look like a battle chariot. Usually the victims of passion turned around and the followers of the carriage gradually dispersed on different side streets. Occasionally greengrocers or smiths would lose their minds completely and, grinning like idiots with nostrils flaring in expectation, tried to make their move...

That was Tjaden’s time. He would skillfully juggle an egg and then throw it at the heads of the men, which immediately turned them back to the way of graces. This method had some side effects, and these required the man’s wife to spend a whole week trying to overcome them. Alas! Musculus could not do anything about that—malediction is a malediction.

It was fortunate that Tjaden never missed. Otherwise all of the magician’s money would have been spent well before they hit customs and would have made greedy quail breeders much richer.

Andrea was headed toward the southern suburb—for Leonard Shveller’s tannery. Master Leonard was a rare specialist, trained by his father. A skinner in the past, Daddy Bjorn preferred well-known methods in the education of his children. He was famous for making bindings for necro-folios and morbid-incunabula. In other words, he was famous for making covers for Cribs of Illnesses. These arcane books contained curses specially selected by experts for their deadliness. Reliable covers were required to prevent spells from oozing out of the books and causing various disasters. No better covers than those made from the skins of virgins and dressed in white juft (mixed with birch tar and blubber lubrication) were ever found—except for those clip-gargoyles made from bluish bronze that were invented personally by Nihon the Gray Haired. This is why these dyeing shops were very popular among certain wizards.

It was not hard to buy the virgins of the appointed type in Lille; it was, however, very important to bring them to the shop before they started shedding.

Andrea Musculus turned thirty-two in the month of Listvanik, and throughout his life, he had brought the virgins to Yatritsa only five times. Three of those times were in his youth, together with Prospero Kolraun, the Combat Magician of the Throne (under whose management the young wizard learned the basics of harmony of the elements and runic noometrology). One time he came by himself, and that trip he remembered forever: one virgin ran away and hid in a nursery of guard unicorns. A security guard had his leg broken when he tried to save her from the horned beasts.

Lastly, seven years ago, at the order of his mentor, Andrea had to accompany the current Court Malefic Seraphim Nexus, who stated that he was too old for the job of supervising the virgins. This reason seemed a bit strange to Andrea. From a distance, the court malefic could easily put the evil eye on rebels who plotted against the throne of Rettia and protect King Edward from the Diamond Crown thrown at the King by Lamias of the Arbitration Court. These were trifles for the skinny old Seraphim. For the last deed, Seraphim received the order of Wrecker from God with ribbons and roses. Yet, somehow the personal supervision of the virgins...

Suspicious Musculus was careful with what he allowed himself to think about Seraphim Nexus, whom he hoped to replace someday—with the permission of patriarch Nexus himself, of course. And that is why, suffering from heartburn, he drove such dangerous thoughts out from his mind.

Smack! Went another one of Tjaden’s eggs.

Both corporals with the whacking staves and Tjaden with his basket had been bewitched beforehand. Dedication to the oath, the military duty, and a promised double-payment condemned them to the Ice House curse – the horror of all womanizers in the kingdom, for a term of forty times seven days. However, Musculus was sure that, without the Ice House, Prospero Kolraun would never get any new covers for his books, even if he was three times Senior Secretary of the Lodge of Combat Magicians.

Once the virgins lost their innocence, their skins lost their miraculous properties. The virgins themselves stopped shedding until they reached the ripe old age of eighty-six, and who needs the skin of an old hag? At that age, a donkey skin with rough pimples would be better for dressing the books.

The wizard really wanted to bewitch himself to avoid any potential problems and get all the benefits. But the Ice House deafened one to the Music of the Spheres. Such deafness was acceptable for soldiers, but fatally dangerous for a magician. The spell-work on the guards needed regular support; the ice would melt soon, because the closeness of the virgins decreased the forty times seven days by quite a bit. Musculus bit his lips, sublimated yet another wave of passion, and tried to remember his virtues.

Resistance to vice is good; if a hermit can endure it so can I; women are the epitome of all evil... he kept reassuring himself.

In the past, as a non-specialized wizard, Musculus had confused his mentor. He had not demonstrated any special talent needed by society. Six years ago, however, he suddenly displayed the gift of maleficent. It happened as the result of an event Musculus did not like to remember: he got hit with a beer mug on his forehead—not once, but several times—and thus discovered his gift. He got the third eye, the evil one. It was the perfect eye, the so-called Corvine Banshee with the right malefic parameters. Any magician-malefic would sell his soul to Lower Mamma for the next twelve births in hopes of getting the same gift, if he was born a thirteenth time with it. For Musculus, it was a gift of fortune; when a homeless man travels around the world because he cannot find his place, it’s understandable - a dog has a dog’s life. But when a certified, ambitious wizard can only be a servant to his mentor...

So, happy Prospero Kolraun instantly organized an academic course on malefic spells for his student. He forced Musculus to visit the Winter Assemblies of Manual Spells and even donated a part of his personal mana to the fund of the Universal Magicians of Rettia. Later, the mentor introduced Musculus to his friend Seraphim Nexus from the Club of Equals, and Andrea’s fate was determined.

You will be my successor! said the good-natured Seraphim.

He winked with satisfaction when Musculus did not spit over his left shoulder to prevent being jinxed by the court malefic. Old Nexus had torn out the tongues of his two previous students for such disrespect to his age and title.

And this student of Kolraun... He was young, but careful.

***

Hello, Master Andrea!

Contrary to the expectations of guests, the owner of the shop did not come out to greet them and did not send his sons to do so either. His daughter was the one who lingered around the gate. She was the youngest, as Musculus recalled. He smiled at her, happy and confused. The girl was pretty, but had a limp; she kept on switching her weight from one foot to another, and she wasn’t good even at that. Tjaden chuckled from the top of the carriage but almost immediately remembered the Ice House and frowned. At his age, double payment compensated certain temporary discomforts only partially.

Great charm to you, my lady!

Oh, you ... the cheeks of the limping girl reddened like the buds of a wild rose. Call me Tsetinka and come inside; everything is ready for you!

The wizard did not hurry. How is Master Leonard?

A huge, gray-haired cat jumped on top of the fence. Its fur stood on end, its tail resembled a Turistansky fire cracker during explosion. The cat’s amber eyes were scornful. To demonstrate its respect for everyone, the cat cleaned its privates. A small dog ran out barking madly. He had a rainbow-colored coat with a bright green stripe running down his back. The cat answered him in a deep bass.

The guards were amused by the sight, but Musculus knew that anything was possible in a dyeing district of the town. Due to the chemicals, nobody kept chickens here because they usually died of constipation. Ducks swam in tubs with dyeing solutions and were inedible even when cooked with apples and rosemary. Beheaded geese could run around for days and sometimes more than a week. Cows gave spotty milk that was used for dyeing solutions or oak-rind mixes. Only a necromancer who tamed a hell-born would dare to drink such milk or make cottage cheese and cream from it. On the other hand, cats and dogs survived here and became surprisingly pretty.

My father feels good, thank Eternal Pilgrim. He is with my mother. She has been sick for many days and he sits by her...and Shishka works in the shop now. He needs to send five packs of maroken and one-and-a-half packs of stamped shagreen leather to Brother Aloises in Pshebechany. Aloises opened a store there last winter. When Shishmar sends the leather out, he will make the alum solution for you. He hired shifters and grinders in advance; they are waiting impatiently.

The situation was getting clearer. If Musculus would have felt disrespected at this tanning shop, he would have gone to another dressing master who knew something about magic bindings. It would have been difficult to get to the villages of Grammikh or Cheerful Belladonna! It was not only a question of pride, but of aura too. The virgins of Lille and the people accompanying them should be welcomed with special respect and sincere gladness, even though the horrible temper of the virgins was a serious obstacle. If the aura was wrong, a small discord crack could appear later in the covers of the books, and malicious runes could ooze out and hurt somebody.

However, both elder brothers were absent for good reasons: Shishka or Shishmar Shveller was doing important work and paying old debts; the other brother was not in town, and it was not really important what he thought of the customers’ visit. The father of the family sat by his wife, fulfilling his responsibilities as a husband. It would have been bad to meet the customers with sighs and a sad face.

Musculus silently hoped that his trip would be successful. He then realized how wrong it was to hope. The future court malefic with a perfect Corvine Banshee should know that any thoughts of hope can kill business quicker than an evil eye. Criticizing himself for idiocy the wizard got down from the box.

At the footboard of the carriage, the pale corporals dropped their staves and sneezed loudly. The aromas of the dyeing shop knocked down any visitor even though the Dirty River and Lake Secret Hooks were nearby. Security guards remembered their soldierly pride and tried to stop sneezing. Andrea also recalled his duties, and as part of his spell work, looked at each guard three times; when it came to Tjaden sitting on top of the carriage, he almost twisted his neck. Then he spat, stomped his boot on the spittle, and the guards started to breathe easier.

It was necessary to repeat the process the next day because the sense of smell would come back. Andrea had to bear the smell without the help of the spells. His mentor Prospero had told him before the trip that a sixth of the covers would be given to Musculus to use for binding his personal treatise on the theory of Maleficium. So, Andrea suffered not for a dirty-dog’s tail, but for business! A private library was the wizard's dream. Another reason was that the wizard’s Certificate of High Qualification was approved by the Board of Magicians only if a candidate had such a library.

Why are you standing in the street? You are shaming me! The limping girl looked like she was about to cry. The guests do not want to go into the house... Do I need to call my father?

Sorry, Tsetinka, Musculus felt guilty. Wait a moment. He looked around. The street was empty. The experienced neighbors of the dyeing village had delicately closed the windows with sun blinds. Would any good wife or wise mother send her son or her husband outside now? Who would want their insane relative beaten by a staff? Even if the staff was not involved in the process, the wizard from the capital could curse their loved ones. It was better to stay away.

At the corner, under an old acacia tree, children played in the sand. A girl with pigtails constantly ran with a small bucket to the water; Shveller Jr. and two chubby kids enthusiastically made sand pies. A skinny seventeen-year-old boy, dirty from the wet sand, helped them as well. He swung his arms like a mill and determined the exact place to put the next pie. The boy got angry if the kids made mistakes. He was probably a local fool; the virgins from Lille or even those from the peaks of mountains were indifferent to him. The locations of the pies seemed interesting, and Andrea even began to connect them with mental lines but remembered his duties. Even if a vault of the grotto of Seven Nurses crashed, and the Horrible Kid came out from it and began to roll the world like a ball, Andrea had to continue with his duties.

Guards, come here!

The corporals stopped at the sides of the carriage. Tjaden leaped off the top and opened the charmed lock. Nothing happened for a minute, and then a small foot appeared on a step of the carriage.

I am first!

No, I am!

You are a slag!

And you are a call girl!

Both of you are fools! I will go first!

Keep her inside! Viperia, grab her hair!

Musculus sighed and went to help the girls. Otherwise the virgins would never come out. Even a dove could go mad if, at the age of sixteen, it was sold somewhere far-far away for shedding. One month before shedding, the famous natives of Lille became gluttonous and their menstruation cycles ended which did not make their tempers any better.

If Musculus had a choice, he would never be involved in any business with these beauties. Master Leonard would have also probably preferred to spend the rest of his life in a rosary and nowhere near stinky dyeing tubs. Every job had its shortcomings. Some people thought that magic consisted of fun and delights, but when they felt the fluids of a demon trying to break out from the Swan Song or they had to clean up after a basilisk in its Night Blindness season, then the swearing started.

Dear ladies! The first one will be Viperia, after her, Chimeraya, and after her, Empusa Junior...

Why?

I am first! Did you hear me? I am first!

And I will bite you!

Dear ladies! I have already told you that Viperia is first...

Shut up, you idiot!

I will bite, bite, bite you...

Dear ladies! I have a big ox-hide whip. Usually I use it for horses when I am in a hurry, but now I have no reason to hurry. I also have three security guards who can whip for a whole day without breaks. Even if these mean people tore the first layer of your skin, I still would get five more layers from each of you, but I am a kind and forgiving person. So, now the first coming out...

We heard, we are not deaf!

Bite your tongue off!

Go, Viperia, let them get you first with the whip.

Poor limping Tsetinka looked at this with horror in her eyes. When Musculus accompanied Court Malefic Nexus the last time, she was in Pshebechany with her grandmother and did not see the guests. Earlier visits she could not remember because back then she was just a small child. She would get accustomed to it; Tsetinka had to spend at least a week with these prankish beauties. According to indirect signs, the shedding would start in two to three days; afterwards, the skins had to be washed, fleshed, limed, and shifted...

After liming, Musculus could leave and come back when everything was ready. The wizard was happy that the marriages of the virgins, according to the special peculiarities of the agreement with the Town Council of Lille, would not be his problem.

Very soon Viperia, Chimeraya, and Empusa got out from the carriage. Under the escort of the guards, the virgins, while trying to step on each others’ feet, moved inside. The gray-haired cat jumped from the fence and rubbed himself on Chimeraya’s feet; a new affront with tears and curses at the address of the disgusting creature followed. Musculus thought about the whip, but the cat rubbed on his feet too and the wizard howled, because the cat’s hair was like barbed wire.

The colored dog happily barked, delighted by the pranks of his friend.

Nushka! Stop it! And you, Spliff, go home. I'll give you some milk with alkali.

It was discussed in advance that apartments for the virgins would be located on the second floor in the side wing. Last time, the shedding happened there as well. Musculus remembered that Eternal Pilgrim looked after the people who looked after themselves; he checked the locks and double gratings on the windows. The smith knew his business very well and the bricklayer was good too. Even if three virgins sat near the windows and attracted a passerby on the street, the passerby would not be able to tear out the gratings.

He was a smart a guy, this Master Leonard – proficient in his craft! Andrea planned to allocate people as usual: one guard should be in a small watch room under the windows, the second guard - in the corridor, and the third one would be on watch outside, next to the gate. The guards would take turns sleeping. The security guard in the corridor was not necessary when the wizard was at home.

In half an hour, Andrea sighed with ease.

Please, Master Andrea, come down for dinner!

The owner came down to the dining room as well. Certainly, the fact that his wife was sick was sad, but welcoming guests was a sacred duty. Musculus moaned in a low voice after Leonard Shveller exchanged with him the thrice-repeated handshake. Even though Musculus was a strong man, the hands of the ancestral tumbler of leathers were stronger. Master Leonard’s hand resembled a large gammon with pincers on the end. It was difficult to hold food after such a handshake.

Leonard sat at the head of a table and told Tsetinka to bring food to the girls and their guards. He nodded in approval when he found out that she had already brought food for them. Leonard was a potbellied, burly man with a cloud of gray hair that curled above his pink bald patch like a mother's delights above a tender baby’s bottom. He ate slowly, spooning up food from the bottom of a pot. The wizard tried speaking about trifles twice, but Leonard only harrumphed in a deep voice.

It looked like only his body was here, but his mind was far away. Limping Tsetinka shone with happiness: she