Free The Fixer Of God's Ways (retail) by Irina Syromyatnikova Page B

you send me as a parcel?"
    " What?!"
    Johan and Polak refused to discuss it, and I fell deep in thought. A premonition of upcoming troubles hadn't left me, and this time I did not want to neglect it. I needed to invisibly wade through Suesson to Larkes in Redstone. My eccentricity shouldn't attract anybody's attention. I gulped, sighed, and finally managed to say, "Hey, Johan, could you disguise me as a white?"
    It was so crazy that it could actually work, but I needed Johan's help with its implementation. Especially because time was running out. My companions would have to inform the police the same day, as soon as Quarters returned home in his car and drove them back to the village.
    At first , I changed clothes. Now I was dressed in Polak's spare sky-blue pants, comfortable but obscene looking. Johan donated a warm knitted sweater (given that the white was half a head taller than me, I drowned in his sweater like it was a tent). Quarters, stunned with my pitiful look, donated his used jacket. But it was not enough for a disguise. They bleached my hair to a nasty orange color. At least now I could wear the chic, stupid red sneakers I bought in Mihandrov.
    There was no time for anything else : I had to disappear before my friends would report the incident to the police. I quickly signed a power of attorney in Polak's and Johan's names and dated it for the previous week. Johan made an amulet on the run, imitating an uninitiated white Source, and hung it on me, saying, "Nothing good will come of this!"
    As if I didn't know that without him! The main thing was to hold on till Redstone. Larkes would help - I got into this horrible mess because of my employment with NZAMIPS. Another problem was Max: I had to leave him at home. I patted the dog's ears and hoped that Colonel Reich would take good care of him. The "cleaner" would surely feel that something was odd with my death, but he would keep silence. Perhaps, he would even be comforting Chief Brian to take this "loss" easily.
    Ron dropped me off at the turn to the road leading to the train station, and I prayed to all gods and forefathers that none of Reich's "cleaners" would spot me dressed like a white. No assassins would be needed - I'd just hang myself. I was so ashamed of my disguise that when a big lad accidentally hit me with his sack on the platform, I did not react. That scumbag did not even stop to apologize! Only then did I realize why Johan was so skeptical about the success of my masquerade.
    I s queezed through into the carriage, took a seat in the corner, and started frantically recalling what I knew about the white's demeanor. We ask them to serve, being confident that they won't turn down our requests. People usually push them aside and don't expect to hear any protests in return. Could I portray someone like this?
    All eight hours of travel I was meditating, trying to create a new - white - personality for myself, through which I could view the world. Rustle manifested himself, figured out what I was doing, and commiserated. This unpleasantly impressed me - the otherworldly felt sorry for a mage!
    When I got off the carriage to change trains, I realized that our society treated the white truly differently. I'd never thought before that sitting on the bench in the afternoon, for all to see, was a dangerous pastime! It was a small train station, but people bustled around, and I wanted to relax for a bit. I went to the far end of the platform, took a seat on a lonely bench, and prepared to safely have lunch. I was reading the timetable and enjoying a hefty meat pie. And I managed to finish half of it.
    " Hey! This is our bench. It'll cost you money to sit here."
    What was that ? Not a minute to relax! Perhaps, my martyr gaze perfectly matched the image of a white.
    " What are you, deaf? Give us all your coins!"
    Three midgets of my height dared to pressure me! I could have coped with them without any magic! These riffraff didn't pick on dark mages, afraid of