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The Impossible Magic
Unwilling Allies or the Woodensnake Street

Unwilling Allies or the Woodensnake Street

Chapter Five

UNWILLING ALLIES OR WOODENSNAKE STREET

“Tus, you realize neither you nor I are safe now.”

“Yes, Boss.”

I smirked at his new way of addressing me. Boss! The guy was quick-witted. He understood that the murder of Auda of the Khari clan wouldn’t be forgiven, neither to me nor to him. Even if he delivered my head to them, they’d kill him just for failing to protect their master. Perhaps less cruelly, but they’d finish him off. And he knows this better than I do.

“Call me Max. I’m not your boss, Tus.”

“Alright, Max.”

I lowered my ‘self-returning’ revolver. No point in aiming it at him and intimidating him anymore. We were allies now, in any case. Tus could be quite useful.

“Where’s Shani, Tus?”

“I don’t know, Max.”

I wasn’t surprised. ‘You’re just a small fry for the boss, Tus, not important enough to be informed where the port mafia’s personal ‘guests’ are kept.’

“Any guesses?”

“Zingaru’s restaurant.”

“The fancy one on the dock? With the opera sirens?”

“Yes.”

“Who’s your boss?”

“I don’t know, Max.”

“What?” At that time, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. What kind of nonsense was that? “You don’t know who you work for? Sorry, but I can’t believe that.”

The girl, who had been silent up until now, interjected into our conversation:

“He’s telling the truth.”

I turned to her.

“Ah, but how do we know when you’re telling the truth?” I said sarcastically.

The girl chuckled:

“No way to know, Boss.”

“I’m not your boss.”

She was mocking me, the little brat!

“So, you both ‘work’, if you can call it that, and you don’t even know for whom?”

“But now we do, Boss,” the girl said cheerfully, deliberately repeating the word that annoyed me.

I was at a loss for words. She was like a thorn in my ass. I decided to just ignore her.

“Tus, I’ll believe you this time. It’s possible that they don’t tell you, pawns, everything,” I added pointedly, emphasizing ‘pawns’. “But you must have heard something during your ‘honest laborious bandit activities’. Who was I supposed to off? Who’s your boss – Zingaru or a human?”

“Who to off, I’m not sure. Seems like some politician. Tara hinted once.”

“Who’s Tara?”

“The boss’s deputy. He’s the only one who contacts him. Everything goes through him or Auda.”

“So, is the boss a human or Zingaru?”

“I think it’s a human.”

“Don’t joke. A Zingaru would never work under a human.”

Tus shrugged, still facing away from me, responding to my question:

“Auda’s not a subordinate. He’s a lawman, the boss’s partner.”

“How do we get to Tara? What kind of guy is he anyway?”

“If we wait here any longer, you’ll find him. Along with the others.”

The girl again! What a sharp tongue!

“Shut up, will you? It’s like a kindergarten here! Didn’t anyone teach you not to interrupt adults conversing?”

The girl chuckled again.

“They did, but I interrupted them too.”

I paused for a moment, pondering. Indeed, we needed to get out of here. Any moment now reinforcements might arrive or, even worse, the port precincts ammaratia. Those guys are even worse than the bandits. Corrupt to the core, the very rot of Bridgeport.

“Alright. Tus, get your jalopy. We’re leaving.”

Tus, visibly relieved, hurried to comply. Seemed, the arrival of others worried him even more than it did me.

In less than two minutes, the girl and I clambered into the back seat, while Tus, with the agility of a professional driver, steered onto the road.

“Where to, Max?”

“Wooden Snake Street,” I said, finally stowing away the revolver which, it turns out, I had been waving around all this time without realizing I was still holding it…

We rode through half the city for about half an hour.

“Where to now?” Tus asked patiently, half-turned towards me, braking at the traffic light just before entering Wooden Snake Street. The long street in the old part of the metropolis cut almost half the city from south to north.

“Keep driving straight, I’ll tell you where to stop,” I commanded.

The light turned green, and we were off again.

“He doesn’t trust you,” the magical girl remarked with a disarming, but extremely mean smile.

I remained silent, already tired of her. She was impossible to silence. Well, it would be possible if she couldn’t read others’ feelings. She sensed no threat from me, and that amused her. ‘The tough guy’ who gunned down a whole gang of gangsters, but wouldn’t touch her. A sentimental and kind man, no matter what it seemed like from the outside. With Auda, she surely behaved quite differently. I am sure. As quiet as a mouse, no doubt, because she could read his mind and knew the coldness and cruelty with which he would have dealt with her if she showed any defiance. Gosh, who would marry such a girl? No secrets, no private stash could be hidden. It’d be torture, not a marriage!

Tus seemed to sense my mood:

“Max, if she’s unpleasant to you, she can be sold on the black market. You’d make a fortune. Though I’d rather not. She’s very useful in terms of warning about danger.”

Hearing this, Dina leaned over the seat and began to pummel Tus’s back with her fists:

“I’ll sell you! You’re a brainless fool!”

I pulled her away from this activity before she caused an accident, distracting the driver. Her punches were probably like tickles to a mighty Ronka.

“Calm down! No one’s going to sell you. You can go wherever you want,” I assured her. After a bit of a struggle for appearances, she relaxed and stopped trying to harm Tus. It was mostly an act she and Tus shared a friendly relationship, and not without reason. Tus was the most sensible and least cruel member of the gang, and the ‘little devil’ surely had sensed that long before.

“Do you have parents, wonder girl?”

“No.”

“She’s lying.”

“Tattletale!”

“She’s the daughter of some baron from a magical territory. Ran away from home to see the ‘wonders’ of Bridgeport.”

“So, you’re from the other side of the Wall?” I asked her, somewhat surprised. “How did they even let you through the gates of Agartha?”

“Not like that,” she sulked. “I climbed over the wall.” I was even more astonished. The state of mages, which was ‘destroyed’ by the technical civilization of the ‘ingineers’, was separated from the rest of the world by a huge wall, far taller than the famous Great Wall of China, erected by the combined efforts of many mages and magical creatures of this world. To protect themselves from the danger posed by technological interference. The only way to get past the wall was through special gates called the Gates of Agartha, named after one of the mage kings who proposed the idea of building this wall. One could also travel by sea. This was how lively trade was conducted between Bridgeport and the rest of the world. Wealthy residents of overseas countries bought generators, refrigerators, irons, and other technical household conveniences, in exchange for their goods, mainly raw materials and foodstuffs. Because of this, Bridgeport was fabulously wealthy. But the barrier of the wall restrained it too. Sooner or later, everything was bound to explode. Industrialists and merchants could not reconcile with the loss of such a vast portion of their profits due to the maritime snares and obstacles imposed by the authorities of the magic territory. In general, war could break out today, tomorrow, or in a hundred years. There was no exact date, but the conflict of interests was bound to provoke it. And who would win was also clear. Unless they invent a spell against bullets, as the Kulu-Kula and Ita Torrin's group was striving to achieve.

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“Wow,” I said, eyeing her slender figure. “Are you a climber? ‘Snow Tiger’? How did you climb that sheer basalt wall, ninety stags high?”

“I won’t tell. It’s not my secret.”

“Aha. Did you tell Aude the same thing?” I asked her.

“No. But you are not Aude. You are kind. You won’t torment a poor girl.”

I turned away. She giggled.

“What a witch!”

“Stop!”

Tus abruptly braked two blocks away from the University of Magic. I didn’t want to tell him yet where I was heading. Better safe than sorry. I’ll walk with the girl, send him to lie low or gather info on Shani if he can. Need to act before the Hariya mafia starts a large-scale hunt for their clansman’s killer.

“Don’t you trust me, Max?”

“Should I?”

Tus sighed before responding:

“No, of course not. Trust no one. And that includes her,” he nodded towards the girl, holding my intense gaze calmly.

Tus drove off towards the port, heading back without saying why. Frankly, it wasn’t my concern. The guy knew the Hariya mafia better than I did, and it wasn’t my place to teach him where to best lay low. Besides, he was likely to bolt. Over the wall. I didn’t rely much on him. Ronkas always will be Ronkas.

“Come on, miracle,” I said to the girl standing beside me and moved towards the massive black structure – the University of Magic. This enormous wooden building, shaped like a lying three-hundred-meter snake, had given the street its name. It was one of the oldest buildings in Bridgeport, remnants of a once mighty kingdom of mages. The snake was a common emblem and symbol of mages and magic. The wise reptile and all that stuff. Nothing out of the ordinary. What else could mages choose as a symbol, if not a snake? Basilisk?

There was, of course, no electricity here. The building was illuminated by ancient spells, round colored light bulbs-spheres that were periodically recharged. Usually, this was a task for the underperforming students. About three years ago, I met a graduate of this institution who arranged a tour for me. I was investigating a case involving a missing child. Hence my knowledge of the local protocols. True, I had only been in a few halls on the first level. What went on further, in the magical laboratories, was beyond my understanding – outsiders were not allowed there. It would be fun to study here. A fun life. Surrounded by talking animals, wizards levitating during morning meditation, and grim graying professors from the dean’s office in dark cloaks with purple snake emblems. If I had a talent for magic, I might have enrolled here.

But alas! No Harry Potter in me. Something was off. I didn’t belong to this world, neither internally nor externally. And it seemed, the world shunned me too. Yes, a significant gift for magic was needed. Some very rare genetic alterations. A mutation with a frequency of one in ten thousand.

“Stop!” I commanded the girl, now strangely quiet and obedient, in front of the gates.

“What do you want here?” she asked, curiosity tinged her voice as she surveyed the building. “It’s dangerous here. A lot, from all sides,” she added awkwardly, her phrase oddly constructed.

“The more you know, the quicker you age.”

“I won’t age; I have Elten blood in me.”

I turned and looked at her closely. Dark green pupils, golden hair long, unwashed. Maybe she wasn’t lying. ‘Eltens’, or Elves as they’re usually called on Earth. Refined beings, who live century-long, and once inhabited this planet. They say Zingaru exterminated them in some ancient war.

Zingaru also live long, and there are few of them at time, as if their ranks thinned after a prolonged war in the mists of time. There are also Half-Eltens. Or Half-Elves, call them what you wish. They say those are the offspring of their unions with humans. They live very compactly in their communities and rarely interact with humans.

“And why didn’t you wash your hair? Didn’t Auda buy you shampoo?” I asked the girl.

“I didn’t have time,” she replied somewhat gloomily, “we went to the coast with Tara. Climbed around for two weeks. You can’t really wash there. And when we got back, they brought you in and wouldn’t let me go home. I didn’t wash because of you. You should feel guilty!”

I chortled. Seemed I hit the nerve at the end of the day.

“Interesting, and what were you doing on the coast?”

“Gathering ‘Zhmatok’ from the fisheries.”

I couldn’t help but smirk a little. ‘Zhmatok’ is a slang term for tribute used by the local racketeers. It made sense why she was dragged along. If a fishery owner decided to hide the ‘zhmatok’, it would be instantly exposed by a sensor-telepath. She also served as a warning against accidentally bumping into the wrong person. The tax police on Earth would pay a billion without a second thought for such a valuable employee.

“And they didn’t share the zhmatok with you?” I asked a hint of irony in my voice. The idea of a thirteen-year-old girl, seriously discussing the gangster’s tribute, was somewhat amusing.

“They did,” Dina darkened even more, annoyed by my mocking tone. “And lay off with your questions. Do what you came here for.”

I shrugged and stopped my inquiries, maliciously noting that I had spoiled her mood.

The strike of the hammer on the gilded serpent head of the doorbell rang softly but distinctly, producing a muted echo that lingered for a whole minute. Without a doubt a thing of magical origin.

A few minutes later, a duty student approached the gates. His hair, tousled and sticking up like a porcupine’s quills, the guy with a sleepy face yawned ferociously and rubbed his face, unsure how to react to our arrival.

“We don’t accept visitors at night. Dean’s orders,” he growled through a soul-crushing yawn, waving his hands at us – either making magical passes, just in case; or simply brushing us off – as if to say, don’t even ask, I won’t let you in.

“I’m here on behalf of Professor Ita Torrin. Please call Edger Rufus. He should be warned about my visit.”

The student recoiled slightly from me upon hearing my words.

“Are you joking?” he asked, stuttering a bit as if out of fear.

“No. Why would you think so?”

“Professor Torrin died a year ago. In a failed experiment. She was buried long ago. I saw it myself.”

A chill ran through me. What in the world? I remembered the tired brown eyes behind the glasses. She seemed real enough, not like a zombie. A normal person.

“Regardless, can you call Mister Rufus or not?”

The guy on the other side of the gate hesitated but eventually went to summon the senior student.

“Are you friends with a zombie?” my restless companion asked. Naturally, she wouldn’t miss a chance to probe.

“I don’t befriend zombies,” I replied sharply and sternly, or so I thought. But of course, I couldn’t fool her.

“Sure, I believe that. They say one-year-old zombies are not too bad. The flesh doesn’t fall off, everything’s in place, especially if strengthened with spells...”

“Shut up.”

Damn! Why am I angry at her? She’s just a child!

“They’re obedient too, will do anything you want. Pervert!” she exclaimed.

“Change the subject.”

“Okay,” she agreed quickly, seemingly sensing with her sixth sense that I found the topic distasteful.

After a short while of silence, she asked suddenly, “How did you hit them in such darkness?”

“Hit who?” I asked absently, my mind still on the puzzling situation with Ita Torrin.

“The people at Aude’s warehouse.”

“By sound. I’m a sniper. Hitting is my profession.”

The last statement sounded a bit ambiguous. 'Hitting the other worlds too,' I joked to myself.

“You shoot like... I don’t know who. You never missed even once! If I had known, I wouldn’t have turned you to Aude. Though it wouldn’t have helped anyway. Zingaru can tell when people are lying.”

“What does my shooting have to do with it?”

“What does it have to do with it? You know how scared I was? I almost wet myself! You could have shot Tus and me too. I haven’t been that scared like that, since I've seen a red Basilisk in my Unkle's garden. When you were shooting, you were like someone dead. Without feelings, like a machine! I couldn’t feel anything. Just a very intense cold from your side, almost like Aude’s. But then, when Tus spoke, you started to change. Like melting. I can hardly believe now that humans could have been so terrifying.”

I chuckled with satisfaction. So that’s it! That’s why she kept throwing these barbs at me in every sentence. Revenge for the fear I instilled in her back there!

“And how do you feel about me now?”

She didn’t get a chance to answer as two figures emerged on the other side of the gate. One was the same gatekeeper student. The other one was a one-and-a-half-meter-tall redhead with a blanket thrown over him, and apparently, he was completely naked underneath. At least his hairy legs up to his knees were visible.

“I am senior student Edger. What do you want from me?” asked Rufus.

“Professor Torrin told me that you could help me with something.”

Silence hung in the air.

The guy raised his eyebrow in surprise.

“Really?” he asked.

I immediately felt a slight tingling in the back of my head. Magical scanning! Which, however, vanished as quickly as it appeared, as if successfully suppressed. The guy shifted his gaze to the girl and unexpectedly said to her in a demanding tone:

“Don’t cover for him. I’m not going to harm him. I just need to know if he’s telling the truth or not.”

Dina unexpectedly shook her head, flatly refusing.

“I won’t do it. You have no business in his head. He told you the truth. You can believe him.”

Edger exchanged a glance with the other guy, and I understood that he was about to teach a lesson to this self-taught witch with his superior classical magical university education. The last thing I needed now was a magical duel. So I decided to intervene and lightly touched her shoulder.

“I appreciate your efforts, but do as he says. We don’t have time to stand around here.”

Dina shrugged, and I felt a light tingling in the back of my head again.

After a minute, the guy nodded in satisfaction:

“Alright. Let’s go. Pars, lift the spell from the gates,” he added, addressing his companion, and without looking back, strode towards the main complex of the ‘wooden snake’ in his poncho. That strange building, like a huge snake slithering for hundreds of meters towards the ocean, with gargoyles on the corners of roofs and countless ornaments on specially treated wood that supposedly didn’t rot, spoil, or even burn. You probably couldn’t see everything here in a week. A magnificent place. Too bad tourists aren’t allowed.

Rufus walked ahead, barefoot, striding along the wooden brick path with his usual gait, while we followed him in the company of the gatekeeper student.

I wanted to ask why the senior was naked but decided to wait. And not without reason.

“Why is he naked? Is that how he practices magic?”

Pars turned his head to the inquisitive Dina and replied with irritation:

“He’s not performing any magic. He’s playing strip poker. In the girl’s wing. He can’t dress until he wins back his clothes.”

“I want to play too!”

I grabbed Dina by the elbow and said seriously:

“Firstly, you’re too young to play such games. Secondly, if you make another suggestion like that, I’ll hand you back to the Hariyans. And believe me, I’m serious.”

“Wow! You took her from the Hariyans?” Pars asked with a voice full of admiration.

“Bought her,” I replied indifferently. “For a bargain.”

Pars snickered.

Dina’s fierce poke almost made me lose my balance...