Chapter 2: “Things aren’t always what they seem”

Chapter 2

“Things aren’t always what they seem”

I bought the flowers at the entrance to the subway. It was lilac flowers, the color of Shania’s eyes and hair. Tonight was supposed to be our dinner. With candles. On my dime. My own earned money. For the first time! It had to be celebrated. And after I would take Shania on a motorcycle ride. Although she had stubbornly refused, to do it before. She never liked technical stuff. Not to use, not even touch it. Except for an electric sewing machine. That was the one of few exceptions she made.
Everyone on the metro ride was smiling at me. Probably thinking I was just another lovesick fool rushing to a date. But they were wrong. Fairies aren't objects of male courtship. They aren't, actually, women in the human sense. Mentality, I mean. Physically they look like elegant super pretty girls. Especially a pixie fairy of the size of a human average lady. How pixie fairy can be the size of a human girl, you could ask? Simple, if she originates from an island of giants located far in the southern ocean. Whatever! Let them think about what they want, decided I. Although, I should have bought the flowers at the subway exit, not at the entrance. Wasn't a clever move at all.
The last three hundred meters from the station to Shania's atelier, which I inhabited on the upper floor; I crossed with quick and determined steps. On the move, I was preparing a speech. I had to joke. Say a compliment. Make her feel comfortable. Invoke that rare smile of hers.
I pushed the door to the atelier. Surprised by the fact that it was not locked. Usually, Shania had a paranoid neatness in her locks. Not giving it any importance, I called her. Running I flew upstairs, opened the door to my room, and...
I didn't manage to do anything. And I couldn't. Happened too quickly. The revolver was in the drawer of the table. Lately, I went out unarmed. Who did I need here to fear? I am just some ‘alien’ from another world. Unable to adapt to the local customs, longing for his world. Such a distant and vague in my memory right now.
Two pairs of hands on either side of the doorframe grabbed me with iron grips with a force of a giant vacuum cleaner, pulled me into the room, and pressed down, flat on the floor. So intense that it almost crushed my chest. I gasped loudly, tensing my muscles, resisting. They would definitively break my ribs if I don't exhale the remaining air in my lungs and spread out on the floor, like a frog under a giant’s foot, weakening the pressure as much as possible. It is said that 'Ronkas' have the strength of gorillas and can lift three hundred kilograms of weight.
"Careful! Don't kill him!"
The voice of the unknown had an immediate effect. The pressure weakened. I breathed out loudly, raising the light dust from the floor. I haven't done my chores lately. Laziness. Shania would scold me. If I'm not killed now, of course.
"Flip him over."

The 'flip' was successful. And I saw the whole company of visitors.
Two matured Ronkas, about middle age, as I suspected. The peak of the strength and speed of these ‘micro-giants’, often used as bodyguards in Bridgeport. The other visitor was a short guy with a heavily powdered pale face. Somehow looking like Japanese a geisha. There was so much powder on his face that you could scrape it off with a spatula. He was wearing a white cape and a leather vest and numerous bracelets on his arms, made from bones and non-ferrous metals. A strange type! Never have seen someone alike. A ‘subverian shaman’? They live underground and rarely come to the surface, as I had heard.
“What do you want, g...?”
“Te-t-t-t!” the ‘geisha guy’ touched his lips with his index finger, making utterly annoying sounds, interrupting my question. “Don’t talk until you’ve been asked, Marksman!”
They were a little dazed by my calm tone. Actually, I was scared! A bit. I left a horrible battlefield back on Earth, so I wasn’t that much of scared. I was just using my willpower to push fear to the furthest shelf in my consciousness. Let it watch from there. Always did it, whenever 152 shells exploded in the near. Just don't interfere with my actions, Mr. Fear. I know you can't be defeated. The sense of fear is a normal thing. You have to learn to control it, to make a sort of deal. An agreement about boundaries. I'm not fighting with you, and you're not getting in my way. Okay? Agreed? Deal? That's it. Good boy, Mr. Fear! And of course, I'm scared, very scared. You don't have to worry about it, old friend, just ready to wet my pants. Almost. So just enjoy the test of your supposed victory and don’t step on my toes.
“Is that him?” asked the guy with the bracelets, apparently the boss, ignoring my question. One of the Ronkas answered with a low chest bass, so perfectly suited to his appearance.
“Ay, Boss. It's him. The marksman! Hit the ‘clap’ in the head with seven hundred staggers. Calculated some shit with a pencil in a notebook, and then shot. He also had that thing. It ...” The guy stuttered, struggling to describe my anemometer, then helplessly spread his arms. “That thing spins when wind blows. And it shows something.
“An anemometer?” asked the guy whom he called Boss.
The Ronka shrugged. “Dunno the name, Boss. Other sharpshooters laughed at him, but then he hit the five times in a row the head of the target, they shut their mouths as monks in Haruya Temple. All my buddies and the crowd were shocked and silenced.
The geisha guy approached and sat down on his haunches beside my head.
“I won't repeat myself, Marksman. Show your stubbornness even one time and I'll do a very bad thing to you! Got it?”
This was both: a threat and a provocation. If I’d ask what a bad thing he is going to do to me, then I automatically break the condition by demonstrating stubbornness.

I nodded avoiding
“Well done! I like smart guys!” he said after a short pause, not waiting for another ‘incorrect’ comment from me.
Now listen. My master wants you to take out a man. You're capable of it since you're such a nice marksman. If you do the job, you'll get a million reals. Right on the spot, in cash. The master keeps his word. The target will be at a good distance. You'll be protected from any counter-magic effect. At this distance, it will be very weak, anyway. Nothing else should concern you. Shoot, take the money, and run out of town as a rich lad. Got it?
I licked my dry lips. “Who's the target?”
The guy looked over at Ronka. They forcedly laughed, definitely didn’t understand what he had meant.
“You're not listening to me well, Marksman. And I don't like your hidden obstinacy. Take note that we've taken your blue girl for additional security. If you continue to resist, not only you’ll lose your head, but...” He eloquently nodded at the flowers lying on the floor. “The same thing will happen if you turn to the ammaratia. We have our people in there. Only get yourself more trouble. His words about Shania made me angry. I momentarily lost control, trying furiously to shake off the gorillas. I almost managed it. Almost.
The ‘geisha-freak’ disdainfully shook his head and while the gray-faced Ronkas still were holding me, he deftly put something cold on my forehead, letting it magically appear in his palm. After that, he began to sing a monotonous, mumbling song. His verbal incantation reminded me of the singing of Aleut shamans. Only a vargan, a whistle made of walrus beaver, was missing for the completion of the picture. The next minute I fell into unconsciousness...

"Interesting! Very interesting!" said Kulu-Kulu after listening to my story.
"Poor boy!" the voice behind commented.
I was a little startled, the last phrase was spoken by the elderly secretary lady who, it turns out, had been standing at the door all the time, listening to my story.
“This is Professor Ita Torrin, my colleague, and loyal friend of main,” presented her Kulu-Kulu tapping with the already extinguished smoking pipe.
Professor?
"I thought ... " I hesitated to continue.
"You thought I was a witch, Master Light," Professor Ita finished for me.
I was taken aback again. Telepaths! Both of them! In all of Bridgeport, only a few people can read thoughts like words. It seems like I've landed in the top league of magicians!
"I'm going to help him," Ita said, now addressing Kulu-Kulu. There was some fatigue in her voice as if she had been writing a thesis all night long. But it was still spoken with firm determination.
"It's dangerous. Very dangerous, Ita," Kulu-Kulu replied, looking away, avoiding direct contact with her eyes.
"Screw it! I'm fed up! How much more can we tolerate this corrupt and criminal system of ‘Egineers’ and Zingaru? They do as they pleased, occasionally killing one of us. And we sit in hiding and waiting for who knows what, hoping we won't be next. What's the point? I refuse to accept it! If I'm killed, I'll at least take a couple of those monsters with me. Maybe then, our so smart but so cowardly magicians will finally take action!”
“Stop it, Ita!” Kulu-Kulu suddenly raised his tone. “We can't win. Don't push us into meaningless resistance! The system needs to be broken in a different way."
"And how do you think it should be broken?" Ita asked demandingly.
"I don't know. Not yet. We've been working on it for years. You already know this. Hasty and thoughtless actions will destroy us all!"

"I'll help him anyway. Let's go, Max. This old timer won't be of any help to you!"
Lady Ita headed to another room without looking back. I looked at the Mini-Gandalf questioningly and he nodded with an approving smile smocking.
Ita took me to a round room with walls painted in different colors and decorated with triangular mirrors on all sides. I saw pieces of my reflection everywhere.
"Take off your clothes."
"What?"
"Take off your clothes. Down to your waist. You don't have to take off your pants."
I obediently took off my clothing.
"Listen carefully and remember everything I tell you, Maxim..."
"How did you know my real name?" I asked in surprise at the sudden change in addressing.
"It doesn't matter now. In this room, you won't be able to hide anything from me. Did you understand what my colleague and I were talking about?"
"Honestly, no," I admitted. "I mean; I know about the corrupt system in Bridgeport. But what do magicians have to do with it?"
Ita nodded, then took an antiseptic solution from the shelf and a set of needles for permanent makeup, told me to sit down on the floor, sat next to me, and began examining my forearm, looking for a place to start a tattoo thing.
I did not object. I don't like tattoos but somehow trusted that lady. There something encouraging was in her behavior.

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And what am I would lose if she's lying?
“Then listen to a short story. About two hundred years ago, this area was a flourishing kingdom of magicians. Where the council of magicians ruled. There were many magical schools, universities, and the residents of this kingdom had no needs. The magic helped heal illnesses and helped grow good crops. The magic was very advanced. Better than anywhere on the planet. No conquerors dared to even think about attacking our kingdom. It would have been pure suicide for them. No machines or firearms smelled here. Everyone was happy. Without war, hunger, and illnesses.
“And one day everything changed. When the "engineers" arrived, no one took them seriously at first. They were given shelter. The strangers stuck together like a helpless flock of sheep unable to do any magic. Of course, nobody paid much attention to them. The immigrants founded a technical corporation and then began to sell their technical innovations first as craftsmen. But later many considered them sorcerers, special kind of magic users. The Kingdom even registered them as a magical guild back then. Can you imagine?! When they started producing weapons, nobody realized it at first either. After all, a lot of people in our kingdom were making various weapons: swords, bows, and armor. Why bother? Look!" Ita sharply raised her left hand in a defensive gesture, and I felt the air in front of her hand condense to an incredible density. Like a force field of a spaceship from a sci-fi movie, but miniature in size.
"Do you know what this is, Maxim?"
I nodded.
"It is ‘Valikula’ the standard defense spell of magicians. Protects from cold weapons as far as I know."
"Exactly!" She stopped the spell, got a pen, and started to draw something on my forearm again. "It can protect from any type of cold weapons, even crossbow arrows. Easily. But with Egineers came a thing that dramatically changed the rules.
“Firearms?” I said guessing in what direction she was leading her story.
"Yes. And since then, even the weakest criminal moron could do the thing, that he couldn't even dream of doing before. Kill a mage! Easily. A magical shield can't stop a bullet. The pressure of the bullet at the point of contact with the valikula-shield exceeds its density many times. No way to stop it. Arrows, on the other hand, aren't a problem at all; besides the shaft of an arrow, once a living substance, easily responds to magical incantations.
“I read in your history about the slaughter of magicians,” I said. “Just didn't know that it was so... I thought magicians have learned to deal with it.”
“No, unfortunately. If the bullet has already been fired, there is no magic spell capable of fully and immediately absorbing its energy.
“So, nothing can be done here?”
“The Council of Mages, or what is left of it since the slaughter, attempting to devise a spell capable of countering the speed and energy of the bullet. But to no avail. This is what Kulu was talking about. He and his group of colleagues have been working on it for almost half-century. There are some promising results, but nothing definite yet. And I don't think they will manage within the next half-century. The old mages knew much more than we do and still could not do it. There is a fundamental obstacle at the level of physical-magical laws. And they cannot be broken. As well as they can't be broken in your case, for example.”
“How will you remove the curse, then?”
“I won't remove it, Maxim. I'm going to delay it. This is the maximum that can be done at the moment.”
“What do you mean under ‘delay’?”
“To put it simply. The powerful demon-spirit which your curse is tied to, perceives our world through connection to you, as offering sacrifice. Time in its world flows differently. And if we are lucky, we can confuse him. Making him believe that here only a couple of hours passed, when in fact it had been a week, or so.”
“And how long we can confuse him?”
“It depends on the circumstances. You need to adhere to certain rules to survive as long as possible. I'll tell you about them. In addition, I will try to code you for long-term protection from the magical attacks of your future enemies.”
“Interesting! What kind of protection, Ms. Ita?” I asked.
“Oh! This is Kulu's recent piece of work. He was able to restore the lost spell of Kembal Urisko. A great mage who lived about four hundred years ago in Uria. He was eager immediately to write a dissertation about the finding to boast to colleagues, but I managed to talk him out of this.”
“Why?”
“Have you any idea the value of that sort of spell? Once it is mastered by the elite mages of Bridgeport, a line of millionaires, criminals and other rich thugs striving for such high-level protection will form a long line. The protection is very effective. The tattoo will absorb any magic directed against you. With some limitations, of course. In addition, it starts to glow as an indicator showing that magic is being used against you. Had it been with you earlier, the Sabverian shaman wouldn’t be able to cast this fatal curse.”
“And you just do this for me? I don't have millions.”
Ita stopped working for a moment. Her sad eyes got saddened. I felt odd pressure emanating in my direction as I was conversing not with alive persons but rather with some ghosts from a magical virtual world.
"Look me into eyes, Maxim."
I reluctantly turned my gaze toward her.
The wrinkles around her eyes didn't make her any less attractive. The grey in her hair even gave her a certain charm. She was once a very beautiful lady. Definitely strikingly beautiful. She looked at me, and suddenly I realized why she decided to trust me. She knew well that I was from the same world as those ‘Egineers’ who came here hundred years ago. Nothing can be hidden from me in this room. She said that before.
"You think I can change something in your world? Make it a better place?" I asked getting the first glimpse of understanding her true motive. "It's a futile hope. I'm just an ordinary person. Those engineers that have ended up here a hundred years before me, were smart guys. I can tell it. In contrast, I'm not really friendly with technology, just a soldier."
Ita shook her head, resuming to work with the tattoo and continuing the conversation:
"I think you were not brought here by chance, Maxim. We, magicians, believe in fate and destiny. You clearly have it. Just like the ‘Egineers’, or Engineers, as you probably pronounce the word correctly. Right?"
"Yes. Engineers on my home planet are people who invent and design different technical stuff. Like mages here."
She nodded.
"I think there is a hidden sense in all this. Kulu does not believe in human intuition, but I feel that you are important for our world. And I'm ready to stake my life on it. Otherwise, this system will consume our world. It's already happening. Tell me about your world, Maxim, and how you got here. Not every day do you get a chance to meet travelers from other dimensions. I need more time to finish..."

As I was leaving Kulu’s house, I remembered my revolver that I had never gotten back. I stopped at the threshold, hesitating a bit, ashamed to ask her for the gun, which had so disrupted the lives of the local magicians. Seemed somehow wrong. But Ita instantly understood what was going on. Her telepathy was on permanent alert.
"Your weapon?"
"Yes, if you mind."
"Open your palm," she said unexpectedly, "prepare to grab and just say 'Ace'."
I didn't understand the meaning of the manipulations, but complied:
"Ace!"
The revolver ended up in my hand, painfully hitting my palm. Instinctively, I clenched it, not letting it fall, incredibly surprised and delighted.
“Do you really put a spell on it?! Amazing! But that's a gun?”
Ita smiled:
“It's for your safety, Maxim. An exception a Mage did for you. I want to protect you.”
“How far can I call it?”
“Unfortunately, only for a short distance. About twenty to thirty steps. You're not a wizard and that greatly reduces the range.”
“Thank you,” I said. I couldn't offer anything else to this amazing woman. Now I'm the fastest gun east of the Mississippi, or rather, Bridgeport. And considering that elite magicians don't put spells on firearms, I'm probably an extremely rare exception! Maybe in a hundred years, I'll still owe her a debt of gratitude. I didn't dare to muster up the nerve to ask her how to find Shania. That would have been too much. But then Ita gave me some very good advice in the end:

"Look for telepaths," she said as we descended the staircase. "The person you were hired to kill is, highly likely, protected by a telepath-sensor.
"Why a telepath-sensor specifically?"

"Because a mage-telepath, who reads thoughts like words, is an extremely rare occurrence and such people generally hire their own security. They do not work for others, not sell themselves. I've spent my entire life mastering this type of sorcery. Such mages won't work for anyone. They can easily gain power and money if they want. Sensory telepaths are more frequent as they inherit their abilities and can’t read minds, just sense hidden emotions. They are often used for protecting important Bridgeport targets. A good sensor-telepath can detect malicious intentions from a distance of hundreds of meters. So the only explanation they were in need of a sharpshooter is that the target is protected by sensory-telepaths. And hence should be taken out from a great distance. You just need to check around two hundred candidates, most of which can be immediately discarded during the paper search. As soon as you return to Bridgeport, go straight to Old Magic University. It's on Wooden Serpent Street, I presume you've heard of it?"
I nodded affirmatively.
Who hadn't heard of Wooden Snake Street in Bridgeport? The local Harry Potter domain. Why she called it ‘Serpent’? Probably an old name variation.
“Ask for Ender Rufus. He's the head of the student council and was my most capable student. He has access to the secret archives with data on magicians and gifted subjects. Unfortunately, I can't warn him of your visit, so don't be surprised if something will seem very strange.”
“What do you mean, strange?”
“Nothing. Just take note, Maxim from another world, things are not always what they seem...”

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