The Dragon's Vow or the Stubborn Bride. Edgars Auziņš
it would help at the academy.
Grymza broke into a knowing smile:
– Ugly, huh? “I remained silent so as not to lie to my face, and the headmistress condescended to explain: “This is an artifact of a distortion of appearance.”
– Forgive me, Ashsheri Director, I am sincerely grateful to you and I understand that your gift contains some deep meaning that, due to my age and stupidity, I simply cannot grasp. Could you give me a little hint? – I smiled guiltily, hoping that they wouldn’t drag me out of the gig, completely disappointed in the choice of candidate.
– Why is it unclear? If you need to hide your beauty, just put it on your neck and imagine what you need. Scars, burns, sour mine, just a faded appearance, a tired, painful appearance, warts, whatever!
– Warts?!
I finally stopped understanding what she was talking about and batted my eyelashes.
– Oh, my girl! Nothing can cool a man's ardor more than the right wart at the right time and in the right place. Understood?
– It seems… This is all for disguise, right?
“For camouflage,” Grymza repeated after me and grinned condescendingly. “You’re a smart girl, you’ll figure it out on your own when the time comes.” Do not lose. A rare thing. Most likely, the second one does not exist. The master did it.
Suddenly I realized that she was looking at me almost affectionately. And her face didn’t look so stern now.
– Eshsheri director, and you… Don’t you need it anymore? – Having blurted out the question, I fell silent and swallowed, afraid of my own courage.
It was necessary to blurt out such a thing! And to whom!
But the headmistress only broke into a surprisingly pleasant smile.
“Grymza’s mask has grown on me over the years, baby.” People here are afraid of fire, so I really don’t need the amulet anymore. It’s not like fifty years ago, when I, a girl not much older than you, was forced to take the reins of the boarding house into my own hands. Believe me, it wasn’t easy…” she shared. – All. Enough chatter. Touch it! – the headmistress commanded the elderly, silent driver. – Good luck, Blackrock! Show them all there!
Raising her fist, Grymza smiled at me and, without turning around, headed into the building. I followed her with my gaze until her straight, tall figure disappeared behind the door, and then looked forward to a bright future.
Chapter 2
There were a dozen Travel Bureau stations in Verlor, the capital of the Onyx Rocks, but I had to leave from the same one where I had once arrived with my father. The journey to it from the guesthouse took about forty minutes, and while we were driving, it began to get dark. Reacting to the deepening twilight, bright magic lanterns began to blink on the streets, flooding the area with a cozy, warm light. I admired the beautiful houses of wealthy capital city residents and the majestic building of the theater, which made an indelible impression on me – I had the opportunity to visit there once with other students.
Sitting in the gig driven by the silent Batmore, I gazed at the noble Eshsheri leisurely strolling in the autumn park with their smart daughters and husbands. At the carriages rushing past. On thoroughbred, well-trained horses with equally thoroughbred riders. To tastefully decorated shop windows. For fountains that don’t freeze even in winter. She looked and smiled involuntarily, sincerely enjoying every moment.
Eh! Still, there are advantages in the life of a magician! Did I think, running around the castle courtyard with the boys, that this would happen to me? That one day I will be able to travel alone without parental supervision?
As we moved away from the center, the houses became darker in appearance. Their narrow dark windows did not please with bright light and pretty curtains, but frightened with bars and iron shutters – the industrial quarter had begun. Buildings of factories and factories stretched out, where magic and craft were intertwined, producing metal products known throughout Balaria: from rune swords to cart wheel rims. From magical jewelry forging to ordinary scythes and sickles. Only at the boarding school did I learn what an important place my native land occupies in the world. How many inventors and scientists are born, and how rich in metals and jewels its depths are, the guardians of which from time immemorial were the ruling families of onyx dragons.
Having passed industrial areas, we found ourselves in residential ones. There were also shops and shops here, but with simpler display windows. Dim lights were burning in the windows, and the shadows of residents preparing dinner flickered. A rollicking melody came from some tavern, and the bright magic lanterns had long since been replaced by dim lanterns that gave off a deathly green color. Because of him, the faces of people rushing from work seemed especially sallow, and a staggering drunkard could easily be mistaken for a zombie.
And in some alleys there was no lighting at all. A noisy group tumbled out of one of these straight onto the roadway, frightening our horse. The driver had to use an air wave to gently push the revelers to the side of the road. Drunken swearing followed, but the phlegmatic Bathmore silently whipped the reins, urging the brown filly on.
My father and I passed these places in the morning, and then they did not look so dangerous. Feeling uncomfortable, I hid deeper into the phaeton and, just in case, grabbed the handle of the bag, regretting that I was not traveling in a carriage, but in an open carriage. There was only a short distance to the station—three or four blocks—when I felt a magical tension in the atmosphere. The hairs on my arms stood up and a specific chill ran down my back. Wary, I turned my head, looking around the street with an unfocused gaze. I was still incapable of doing more, but this simple technique allowed me to see exactly where magic was used.
– Stop! Stop! – I shouted to the driver, but Bathmore was already pulling on the reins.
He managed a moment before a man was thrown out of a nearby alley by the horse's feet, mercilessly slamming onto the pavement.
The air wave at the end reflected from the wall of the building opposite, scattering dust, small debris and dry leaves on the sides. Screaming in fear, I stared wide-eyed at the body that Batmore was trying to avoid. But the filly neighed and fought, not wanting to go further. Meanwhile, the tension of magic intensified. Ahead of us, drifting snow ran from building to building, swirling in the uncertain light of the streetlights like thick steam. Along the line she drew, a real palisade of thick icicles grew. Do not go around or jump over!
Following the driver's quick glance back, I realized that the same fence blocked our way back.
– What’s going on today! – Batmore could not stand it and tried to take it to the left so as not to run over the victim with his wheel.
And I suddenly wondered if I had ever heard his voice before?
“Batmore, is this man… dead?” – she asked quietly, unable to take her eyes off the person lying on the road.
“If he’s a magician, he’ll survive,” the driver tried to reassure me, but he didn’t do a very good job.
– We must help!
I stood up, intending to jump out, but I was stopped by a sudden shout, like the crack of a whip:
– Sit, eshsheri! We don't want any trouble, and the guards will deal with the tramp.
Bathmore pulled on the reins, causing the filly to back up a little. Just a few steps. The gig turned out to be opposite the alley on the other side of the street, but even a fleeting glance made it clear that it was impossible to get through there. The passage was cluttered with some rubbish. So we managed to fall into a trap! If we had driven a little faster, we would have managed to get past…
At the end of the street, from behind the squat houses, the dark silhouette of a gas tank was clearly visible. The large round building in which PR was accumulated, and from there it was used to heat houses and illuminate streets, impressed me even on the day of my arrival. It was located right next to the station. Maybe run to it on foot and ask for help there?
I pulled the bag closer.