Chapter 65.1 Borrowing

Things had gotten kind of spontaneous in the shop, but I felt there was no threat, so I went off on a tangent — I told him. First there was enthusiasm, then questions. But how do you answer them when you don't fully understand the part of the question in each one?

I spat and asked the wizard for a vow of silence, and after I did, I discovered that I had a way to create crystals — a secret alchemical ritual. My wand is an experiment in which I attempted to "improve material conductivity" — as I understand it, that is, I immediately mixed the base and core into a mago-conductive crystal.

The Master was silent for a moment, and another moment until he laughed. He laughed for a long time, he even cried, his tears flowed! And then I realized, according to the popular explanation, that I might as well have blown myself up or something.

In short, to put it simply, so that I could understand myself, it was explained to me "on the fingers" that the wand is a very complex magic chip with elements of "macro".

All sorts of effects, such as the pseudo-intelligence of the concentrators, come from the fact that the concentrators have their own aura, and they grow only in the energetic plane, intertwining with the magician's energy, "sprouting" into it like a symbiotic plant. By the way, the wand is something like that, as well as other concentrators. I've done something entirely new.

My craft won't be able to develop, won't take root, won't grow. Yes, it can be used by any mage without limitation to elemental coloring, it is very good for subtle work. But the disadvantages outweigh: it won't get better, it won't improve its master's magic, it won't be able to "memorize" spells for instant use.

Not that I was depressed, I was just embarrassed. The Master, however, saw my face and laughed again and offered to become my personal apprentice....

— Master... — My throat was dry and I could hardly get the words out. — You were joking, right?

— Why would I be joking? — The man asked, his eyes wide with surprise, childish. — I am already sixty-seven, my wife is a few years younger, and I have no children and will never have any. Why can't I choose my talents? My art, my family's, will die with me. I need an heir. It's not good to let knowledge disappear. That's not why we discovered it! Don't you agree?

As soon as I heard the master's words, everything became blurry in front of my eyes. The world turned gray. A series of strange and unnatural deaths flashed before my blurry eyes, and then — a dark purple octopus rose above the ground, floating, hovering, emitting acrid green miasma.

Here it approaches the well-kept workshop, and at the very threshold it splits into two octopuses. Throw — two young people feel a sharp, stabbing pain in the lower abdomen. Grief. Tears. The medicine man spreads his hands, not understanding what kind of curse has struck the young magicians.

No one can help. The years fly by, the mages age at the speed of ordinary people, they can't have children — they are devoured by the cursed sprite — a subordinate demon of the infernal borders, almost an astral spirit, evil and black. A strong blow to my chest threw me back into the real world.

A heavy cough tormented me for several minutes, tears poured down my face, my head ached, and my whole body shook. I was given water with some potions, I drank it, Baa-san was beside me — there was no need to be afraid of poisoning. When I came to my senses and could look around, I realized that I was lying on a couch in another room, an older wizard was waving his wand near me, and the others were standing not far away, watching me and the wizard tensely.

— Damn... sprue... — I gasped.

— But I didn't find any traces of curses... .... — the old wizard-doctor replies uncertainly, turning to Lucy.

— No... kha-kha... not me... kha-kha... the wizard and his wife...

— Are you a fortune teller? — the wizard gave me a sly look.

— Take him away... — I ask, looking at the master. — He doesn't need to hear this. — I feel myself returning to normal.

— Doctor, is the young man all right? — Madame Dunois asks in a businesslike tone of voice.

— Generally, yes, but...

— In this case... — and then the old man was quickly pushed out the door, scattered in gratitude, then the woman returned and spoke, looking him in the eyes. — What was that with you? What were you talking about?

— Ommyoji work with spirits and gods, with monsters and monstrosities, we feel evil, and we have planted evil essence in them. — I sip from the glass of water he gave me. — One for two. It's part woman, part man. It eats their life and energy. — It's hard to say, but I have to. — ...their children...

My words made the men pale, and the hostess put one hand to her stomach and covered her mouth with the other, tears streaming from her eye. The man's knuckles turned white in his clenched fists, and his lips formed a tight line.

— I can banish evil, but it's been in you too long, and I can't undo the damage I've done. And I don't think anyone can...unless it's a god. — When I see hope in a woman's eyes, I crush it. — But they will deceive you. The child will not be yours — only theirs, the gods', the child will be a stranger, not even human, and will know from the beginning that you are a stranger to it. — It's cruel, but it's better that way, because otherwise it would be worse. — You'll be used, and you'll owe them.

— The pale, trembling woman had barely gotten the words out before I interrupted her.

— An oath. From each of you. Otherwise I won't say another word.

I understand why the Boisseliers took an oath of silence, but I don't understand why Dunois did. However, if I have time, I must look into the past and find out what Madame did there.

— I have a potion that can make even the most crippled woman or man pregnant. But it can only be used once. The result is absolute. Depending on the woman's health, one to four children can be born.

The silence was thick and lasted a few minutes.

— It can't be. -Victoria Boisselier said in a mechanical voice. — I'm a potions master, and I've never even heard a rumor like that! — I feel hysteria coming on.

— I've seen the effects with my own eyes — three children, all gifted, no diseases or pathologies. I'm not sure about the curses, whether they are passed on or not.

— Price? — Master Boisselier asked hoarsely. — What do you want, demon? If a soul, then only seventeen years after the birth of children.

I didn't even understand what he was talking about at first, and when I did, I wanted to laugh, but the situation is not the same — they won't understand.

— And we haven't done the ritual. — I make a bored face and stare at the ceiling. — An evil demon scared you and now he's stealing your souls. — I lower my eyes and look into the wizard's. — Summon the Patronus, Mr. Boisselier, and let's see if I am a demon or not.