Noise, Racket, Screaming, Arguing and Fighting. Choose any word from the above and you will describe exactly the situation at the Hole Cauldron Bar. Everyone in this room had a very important conversation. They didn't care about anyone else, it didn't matter to them.
The bar hasn't changed much since I was here last. All also medieval: good tables, candlelight, and a smoked ceiling, which has long since lost its natural color. Yeah, I can't believe I forgot Tom, the perennial bartender, and the owner of this place.
My appearance caused no furore or excitement. Only Tom glanced sideways, and then returned to his business.
Without delay in the room, I headed for the entrance to Slash Alley. Having knocked on the necessary bricks-triggers I, waiting for the passage in the wall to open, went to the side of his goal, the store of books «Wise Reader». This store was not so popular, but rather not popular. She was in the distance from other shops, and also ran her an old man, who did not like the ignorant in his shop. My teacher told me all this before I went home.
After ten minutes I stopped at the necessary shop. It did not look presentable. The old, worn-out and cracked sign was slightly inclined, as if it was about to fall. Tempered windows - long thirsty wet cleaning, as well as the door, which long ago fell varnish, but she somehow fulfilled her duties. Everything is like a book - forgotten by everyone, but therefore no less valuable.
After pushing the door, which was expected to squeak, he entered the room. A pile of shelves filled with books that were just pounding under their weight, and a flawless cleanliness that met me at the first moment. It was unexpected (well almost), it turns out the owner is watching his product, or he just loves books.
Going to the counter that was made in the form of a «bar» counter I pressed the bell. *Jin* A quiet but audible sound spread across the room, and with it a magic wave. Artifact with sound magic, I've never seen such a thing.
'Good morning, young man,' said the man from behind, as I gazed passionately at the frame and the runes of the magical artifact.
— 'Good evening too, Mr. Schmidt,' I turned around and greeted the shop owner, tall, thin, with white, short hair and a goatee. This is how he appeared before me. Unremarkable, if you don't pay attention to the eyes of steel color, as well as the scar that went through the left eye to the chin.
What do you want? he said immediately on the forehead. Apparently the courtesy was enough only for a greeting.
'I was asked to come here by Miss Poppy,' I said. 'But what else can I say? The more so the teacher asked him to bring it to him immediately, or perhaps not.
— Miss Poppy? he wondered. Why is that? - Why the fuck is that old witch Miss Poppy? - Question answered. -Why the fuck is that. -Why is that old witch Miss Poppy? She's old enough to be my grandma, you kid, calling her Miss. That's hilarious, Ha-ha-ha-ha.
His laughter looked like the barking of a bulldog, so strange and unattractive. He laughed for a long time, five minutes. I mean, I call miss a woman who's been here for at least three centuries, but it's not a big deal.
'Well done, little fellow,' he said, laughing, staring at me with his own eyes. 'Let's go sit down.
Turning around, the grandfather walked inland. Shaking his shoulders, he went after him.
A minute later we found ourselves in this living room. Two soft chairs, a sofa and a coffee table. Everything is done in brown colors. On the opposite corner was a fireplace, on which there were two photos. One depicted a middle-aged woman with a soft, forgiving smile. Her eyes radiated warmth.
On the second - two girls aged eight, who held a man's hands smiled at the camera. Both in light, summer dresses. It was seen how happy they were. And the owner of this shop held their hands, only much younger.
'My daughter and two granddaughters, twins,' said the man, noticing where I was looking.
— Beautiful - the only thing I could say. And it was true. Each of these women was much more beautiful than the standards of England. There'd be more pictures in color.
— Ha, you said that correctly, he grinned. All in the grandmother, she was also incredibly beautiful. There was a time, sitting in a soft chair, he plunged into memories. Without jerking him off, I sat silently in front of him.
Are you going to have tea or coffee? he suddenly asked the question after about five seconds. I thought he'd be nostalgic longer.
'Tea, if I may, without sugar,' Mr. Schmidt nodded and went to another room.
- What about it?
What? I didn't quite understand.
— What the fuck are you doing here? What does the old hag want with you? - That must be his standard way of communicating. My teacher told me not to be surprised. Yeah.
'There must be a teacher here to pick me up,' said the teacher, having had a sip of tea. I must say, he can make tea
— Teacher? At your place? he wondered again. What an impressionable man. Are you all right in the head? He pointed the finger at me. At the disciples.
- Here we go, I shrugged. Mmm, tea's really good. So someone needs me as a student.
And who is your teacher? I need to know the name of this moron - at this rate his face will crack, his grin is too broad.
- Poppy Pomfrey.
— Pfff, I had a flash of hot tea in my direction. At the last second, I tilted my head to the side, so that it would not hit me. He looked at the wet patch in surprise and looked at the Stark. Who? Are you joking? Wiped his mouth and beard with his hand, he said. The stamp of mistrust, gradually replaced by anger, fell on his face.
- Why is that? No. I'm actually Miss Pomfrey's apprentice.
— Don't hold me for a troll, the anger in his emotions was burning. I didn't believe it. - Yes, that the hag, took a student, and even so small as you! I will not believe in life.
'Believe me or not,' I said in a distant voice. 'All you have to do is wait for the teacher and make up your mind.
— Ha, you're right about that, he calmed down in a moment. From the budding gloating I knew he was up to something. - Let's see how you will get out of it, - the grin has become attached to his face again. - Well, and what does the «teacher» teach you? - with a mockery asked old bugger. I can't call it anything else.
- Healing.
— 'There's a little liar there,' he said. 'She would never teach you how to heal. I might still believe it if he taught you, for example, coldomedicine, but healing...
- Like I said - believe or not believe, your right. Just wait for her as...
- What?
- I said get the hell out of my shop. This is no place for liars and crooks,' he said through his teeth.
I stared at him in perplexity. A reddened face, tightly clenched teeth, and white knuckles of fists. Rage, bitterness, and hatred. Such a bouquet of dark feelings that you give a surprise. Immediately you can see - it is not persuade him, but to enter into correspondence with him - is more expensive. I still can't feel him, though, which means he's not weak.
Good. 'If that's what you want,' I told him. 'I'm leaving.
- Wish.
Turning around, I went to the exit of the shop. As soon as I stepped through the door behind me, the door closed with cotton. The last thing I heard was:
- Never came here again, liar.
Looking at the clear sky, I wondered, What to do for the next two hours?
Time passed unnoticed. Two hours of my life I spent visiting various shops. Bookstore, pharmacy, atelier, cafe and much more. There was even the idea to visit the «criminal» part of the alley, but after thinking about this idea I turned it down. It is possible, and in an hour I needed to be near the shop.
During the year of absence, nothing has changed. The books are the same, the ingredients are the same, the clothes are the same. Everything is the same as before. Some will call it stability, some will call it stagnation, and everyone will be right. But do not forget that the magical part of England lives in the Middle Ages, and then there was no rapid development.
After two hours wandering the Alley, I found myself again in front of the door that led me to the unfortunate shop. I don't know how others would react to the old man's actions, but I didn't take them to heart. No, I didn't forgive him, but I didn't hold any grudges.
During his tribal speech, emotions on the word «liar» and tore him from within. I don't know what happened in his life, but something really affected him. And if you think about his reaction to his daughter... There's too much pain, maybe it's connected somehow. Maybe it's not. Maybe it's just this grandfather.
I didn't have to stay long. Fifteen minutes later the door opened and a woman in a green mantle of a healer appeared on the doorstep, which did not hide, but rather emphasized the camp of a woman.
Knowing me, her eyes warmed. Removing a lock of black, like the night itself, the hair behind her ear, she smiled.
'Calder,' she said positively.
'Hello to you too, Master,' I said, smiling a little. 'Good to see you.
Poppy smiled wider, turned around and went deep into the building, saying:
- Follow me, please.
And here I go again on the familiar road in the shop from which I was expelled. A minute later I was again in the same living room. It was like before, except for the bound body on the couch, which started to twitch at the sight of the teacher.
— Oh. You didn't spare the strength, I told her, looking at the whole picture. Not only were the tying spells there, but the silent ones were also present. And Grandpa is strong, like the ropes tied, and he even somehow moves.
'Well,' she put her finger on her cheek. 'Maybe I overdid it a bit.
- A little? - I said a little taunting back.
'Maybe a little stronger,' she pointed out with her fingers how much stronger it was. I swear, the needle wouldn't fit.
— I think I should stop making this old man suffer, I waved at him. 'He's going to shoot me in the back,' I couldn't help myself with the hairpin. Don't you think so?
'Perhaps you're right,' she said, and sighed sadly to break the spell.
— 'Old, covered in the mold and dust of the hag,' as soon as he was free, the tongue began to dance. 'How could you do this to me? Did your brain dry out? So I can help to get it and air it out, because you can not see yourself, - with every second it «inflamed» more and more.
— You hear me, Hamburg goat, the teacher didn't owe you. Watch your tongue. I'll dry it for you. Then you'll have nothing better to do in your gray, old-fashioned life.
- Senile? Full of sawdust? Look at you, witch!
— 'Unlike you, I am young and beautiful,' she said. There was much to see. 'I am so overwhelmed with life, and you,' she smiled mockingly. 'She seems to have left long ago.
- Oh, you are....
Standing aside I watched their friendly fight. I don't know who this grandfather is anymore, but he is clearly a good friend of the teacher. Emotionally, they were filled with happiness and nostalgia.
I do not know why I was shown this argument, but it is clearly not easy. What goals the teacher pursues - it is not clear. But one thing I do understand is that she has not only learned beauty and magic from her ancestors, but also a playful character that has always existed.
'OK,' said the grandfather, raising his hand in front of him. 'Let's finish this. 'Better tell me, who is this boy? Is your disciple?
- Yes, she nodded. - Meet Calder Wilson. Recently, my apprentice, and this, she pointed her hand at my grandfather. - Andre Schmidt. My old friend.
As I nodded, I looked at the teacher.
- What do you teach him? Is it healing?
- Yes.
- Are you serious? - In a moment he was transformed. There was no more ignorant grandfather, a serious and powerful magician stood in his place. - You remember that...
That's why I took him as a student. He's so talented.
Yeah? - He didn't believe me.
- Apprentice in less than a year.
There was one sentence, but it was enough to cause the silence to hang. Schmidt looked at me in shock, and the teacher just smiled. They made me uncomfortable.
If that's true, he said. I understand.
Here I stand and think. What the hell am I doing here? No, it's clear that the teacher wanted me to meet him. Perhaps even in the future we will meet more than once. But why?
- Okay, Andre. We have to go. Thank you for «sheltering» - she gave the last word intonation. - My disciple.
'I am,' he scratched the back of his head, 'I'm sorry, kid. I'm getting a little angry.
Nodding back to him, I was waiting to look at the teacher. Having said goodbye to Schmidt, we left the shop. Not on the Alley, but on the back yard.
- Do you know what apparation is?
'Yes,' nodded to her question.
'Then hold on,' she said, and stretched out her hand.
Grabbing her, I was pulled into the «trumpet». I hope this day will end soon.