"Skillful Hands" This company offers a wide range of services, more specifically, it will take on any legitimate paying job. I didn't learn too much — the troll turned out to be a bit chatty, but even though I didn't have to look for it myself, I considered it worth paying for, and gave the troll a bottle of good export vodka. The building that housed the office of "Skillful Hands" was not at all impressive, but the third floor, where the company was located, was more pleasant.
The walls, doors, and lamps were magical, and when I entered the reception area, I saw a large hall with a lot of people. Well, not a lot of people, but twelve people is not a small number. It was decorated like a standard bar: a counter, a pile of booze on a shelf, a few small tables, four large low tables with couches, the smell of tobacco, but not stale, and dim lighting. There's also a big neon sign with the company's logo and name. I go straight to the bartender and sit down on a high stool.
— Good evening, mister. What business brings you here
— Uh, good. — Things have been going so well. — I've only been in the U.S. a few days, and I need a local to be my guide. I need a local to answer questions, find the right place or specialist, help me gather information. Hmmm... that's about it.
— Well, — said an older mage in a bartender's uniform, with a graying head and mustache. — All of our employees have the qualities mentioned above, but not all of them are looking for specific information. Do you have any wishes regarding magical power, gender, race?
— No. — I shake my head negatively. — I don't need a bodyguard or a fighter, just a simple escort, unless... appropriate... — I know how it sounds, but I don't want to get someone with a mental illness.
— I think I understand you... — only the bartender was about to continue when the doors opened loud and wide and a woman's voice was heard.
— Tommy! I'm in trouble! — The voice was loud, but not unpleasant, and most interestingly, none of the people present reacted with any particular surprise.
The mages looked lazily at the trio, two bright girls and a melancholy guy, someone said something, someone waved a hand, and that was the end of it. The trio walked over to the bar, where glasses of some kind of alcohol were waiting for them. What kind — I don't know, I didn't notice. I shrugged and turned to the bartender to finish my business, but I wasn't allowed to finish what I had started.
— Tommy, you're a sweetheart! — landed on the stool to my right and emptied her glass in one fell swoop, and a short-cropped blonde in a tight white t-shirt and blue jeans. — Can you believe it? This miscarriage of justice turned out to be a small-time con man wanted in Louisiana. And when we went to his "business meeting," we were surrounded by cops! It's a good thing we know a lot of people, or we'd be arrested for accessory after the fact. Can you believe it? He swore he loved me! He asked me to marry him! — The blonde tried to feign grief... or sadness.
— Me too, by the way. — hummed the second girl, a dark-haired mulatto beauty with an athletic figure and a bundle of thin braids. — A customer, by the way? — The girl nodded at me while I looked at the bottles
— Yes, — the bartender nodded dutifully. — The young man is interested in a standard escort contract. I was just on my way to pick up Mike.
— Is he still asleep? — The melancholy man asked, and after receiving a nod of agreement, he nodded, got up, and silently left, hiding behind one of the doors.
— What kind of people are here? — whimpered the blonde, resting her head on the counter. — Crazy people, lazy people, drunks and card players, how can you have a private life here?
The bartender and the mulatto woman hardly reacted to this cry of the soul. Some of the voices just laughed.
— No need, Mike. — said the mulatto and moved closer to me. — Megan Wright. — The girl, or rather the young woman, extended her hand.
— Sora Hoshino. — I returned the handshake.
— Japanese? Clan?
— Japanese. — I nod in agreement, looking into chocolate eyes that are slightly squinted. — What do you care if I'm Clan or not?
— Look, kid, you're out of touch with local realities, that's why you came to us. We've already been burned by your clansmen, who have decided that their power will continue here, and everyone around them must bow to them. If you're a clan member, you'll have to listen to a short lecture, but if you're not, just act normal, and if you don't understand something, just talk to me, and we won't have any problems with you. How's that?
— Do I understand you, Miss Wright — or is it Mrs. Wright?
— I'm not married. — The mulatto answered with a twinkle in her eye, and I nodded.
— Well, I don't belong to any of the current clans. Besides, I had time to listen to lectures about courses for newly arrived magicians.
— Pretty, how old are you? — asked the blonde who rested her breasts on the counter to see me.
— Is that so important, miss?
— Of course it matters! — the girl jumped up in indignation. — And yes, Meg, I'm in.
— Why? Can't I do it on my own? — These words didn't sound very convincing to me.
— I'm free anyway, and I have a date. Who am I to go against fate, right, handsome? — The blonde winked and playfully wiggled her shoulder, drawing attention to her twin breasts.
— As you wish... — the mulatto waved her hand, again it looked a bit playful, but I decided to stay out of it until the moment of the contract.
An hour later, I was already walking through the magical city, heading for the exit. It didn't take me long to read the contract, it cost me one hundred dollars for one hour of escort, and it didn't matter how many people were escorting me.
Also, the contract can be canceled at any time by either signatory, but I have to notify the other party in advance, even a few seconds before the breakup. It's not very convenient, but the price and conditions are market, so I didn't bother, because I knew they weren't lying (artifact detector).
Before I left, I paid a thousand dollars in advance and asked him to gather information on the job market offers for my specialties: exorcism of evil, purification, artifacting of medium level, i.e. apprentice, painter of magical pictures and portraits, maker of amulets and talismans. He didn't ask about making magic weapons, and he didn't say anything about fighting skills.
As for what Baa-san was slowly teaching me, I hadn't even finished the basics yet. We agreed to meet at a family restaurant near the company's office in two days. By the way, an interesting fact: in the United States, the dollar is a single currency of payment because even at the time of its creation, magicians hustled and developed their own methods of protecting banknotes, which were introduced into the technology.
When a magician picks up a bill, it shows a circle of scarlet color around the portrait of the president. It works for a squib, too, but the common man can't even see the glow. Other money, foreign money, like coins from different countries and regions, must be exchanged at the central bank of the magical city. But changing back is problematic — the government's policy is that the dollar MUST be accepted everywhere, so they don't see any problems.
What this means on a global scale I don't understand, but I feel it's an attempt at manipulation... although there is one thought, really just one. A man, a magician and wizard, used to gold and silver, will be wary of taking paper money home, and will spend it here, even on something unnecessary, just to not be fooled by "colored paper".
***
During these two days I have finished reading the laws. For example, there is a law that if a magician gives birth to an ungifted child, the child must be separated from the family and sent to the world of simpletons. No, everything is explained here why and why not, but the very assumption is unpleasant.
The essence of the law is simple: a carrier of a dormant gene becomes an ordinary human, living among his own kind. Through generations of interbreeding, the gene of the gifted will be purified, and one day a Founding Child will be born in which the original blood will be almost gone. This does not mean that ALL Founded are someone else's seed, it happens, nature itself creates the right mutation. Or, as the saying goes, magic marked the child.
I sit in the restaurant and think about my next steps. I already have a lot of literature, I just have to choose a direction and start studying it. Considering that a magician without a wand or ring is considered a barbarian here, I should think about a personal concentrator, but I have no desire to buy a permanent tool.
I still remember Mayuri-san's words that a permanent wand binds to the energy deeply and firmly, and it's hard to get rid of it, so it's necessary either to get something worthwhile at once, or to have several different concentrators and use them alternately so that deep binding doesn't happen.
Hmmm... there is also information that wands, rods and staffs are ritual tools that speed up and simplify the standard ritual, but make it more "standard", less quality. But not everywhere you need a perfectly accurate calculation of the ritual, often you can do with a wand. It turns out, so I'm going to make my life much easier.
So I need to get a three-volume book on wands, study it, and collect myself a permanent tool, and to distract attention and acquire a different status in the magicians, to buy a standard commodity, or even a few. It's good that I have a contract with the plant spirits of the island, and I can summon them at any time and place, it's only the earthly one that travels with me. Where would I find the time? Yes, and about the official education should be inquired, because little as things are here with non-graduate specialists ...
By the time the girls arrived, I had eaten a large lunch and was drinking my second cup of coffee. The witches' style remained the same, only the blonde, Elizabeth Stewart, or "just Lizzie," came in a beige and red plaid shirt, red jeans and sneakers, and Miss Wright arrived in leather pants and a vest.
The sight of the mulatto's slender body, tightly wrapped in the leather like a glove, caught the eyes of the women as well, and Meaghan was very pleased. After they had greeted each other and settled in, they began to explain the information they had brought with them.
— Let's start with shamans and spiritual magic. — Megan spoke. — Shamans are a busy niche of the Indians, and you can't go there for two reasons. First, there is a special decree that preserves the rights to shamanism for the indigenous peoples, and you cannot just get a license just to contact the Indians. Second, a shaman can only be hired through the civil service, and if someone starts doing something on his own, he is quickly caught and sent to Alcatraz....
— Isn't that prison closed? — I'm really surprised.
— Only for normal people. For mages and creatures, its doors are always open. — The girl shrugged shakily. — The situation is similar with the spiritual practices of exorcism, purification, and sealing. The country is full of Chinese and their numerous mafias, so this niche is occupied. To go there is to risk one's head. Amulets, talismans, amulets, amulets, and so on, are all in the hands of shamans and Chinese. It's all been divided up a long time ago. About artifacts.
To omit details, having received a license of a skill level, a magician can apply for a place in some company or firm. If you don't have a diploma and a license, the maximum you can expect is some kind of janitor-cleaner. You don't have any papers, I take it? — I shook my head in the negative. — And you haven't been trained in the Rune standard either? — I had the same answer. — I think you've already figured it out, but I'll tell you. You can't even organize your own company without a degree.
— That sucks... — I said involuntarily, leaning back on the high back of the sofa and tilting my head.
— Uh-huh. — Megan confirmed, and I wasn't even paying attention. — The worst thing is that the big companies and corporations have long since redistributed the entire market, and the best option for a young specialist is to get hired by one of those places. Normally, they won't let you work for yourself: they won't let you work for them: you'll be attacked, threatened, or no one will take the goods.
There was silence for a few minutes, but it was broken by the blonde's voice.
— Did you really ask about painting?
— Yes, I'm pretty good at it. — I hold my head up and stare at the ceiling.
— Will you draw me? — the blonde asked with childlike directness.
Looking at her and her partner, I realize that this isn't just for fun. When I agree, I am handed a prepared sheet of A4 paper and a simple pencil. The simple portrait took about fifteen minutes, or a little more. I tried to be as realistic as possible, and while I was working I felt special "impulses" that helped me to get the features right and to portray them well. After handing over the finished portrait, I saw VERY serious faces studying my craft.
— And the colors? Magic, can you do that?
— Yes, I can. — I don't want to go into the details of magic colors. It's long.
— In that case, we can help with portrait contracts, even in the world of ordinary people. If we make a deal, we can make a nice profit — the Italians and French don't have time to fulfill all the orders, and the niche is relatively free, so some of the contracts can be snatched up.
— And as for the rest, what do you recommend?
— The most logical thing to do is to get an education, or find a master and ask him to become your apprentice. A master's recommendation is a serious matter.
— I understand. Thank you very much. Do some research on the paintings and we'll agree on a percentage for your help.
We discussed some more details and parted ways, agreeing to meet here in a few days. In the extreme case, you know where I settled....
The extreme case happened the next day when I was having breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Lizzie, who was unusually horny (though how could I know what she was like?), walked in, quickly found me by some simple magic that felt like a slight breeze, and immediately sat down at my table. She looked very sexy: flushed, her hair disheveled, her eyes burning, sweating, her nipples showing through her black t-shirt.
— Sora, do you know the rituals of resting souls?
— Why? — I was in a good mood, because I was able to meditate normally, to sort out the mess in my head, to "breathe" the plan of the spirits.
— And that! — cried the girl, jumped up on the chair, grabbed my barely touched juice and drained the glass, many would call it an "indirect kiss", I call it the word "chutzpah". — There's a chance to make sixty grand if you know how to do rituals like this, so that wandering souls go where they belong and the place is cleansed. Well, how about it? — A feverish fire burned in the girl's eyes.
— Yesterday you said that the Chinese do this kind of work, and today you're suggesting that I get involved in an obscure case. Don't you find that strange?
— Shit, man! It's a rare opportunity if the order hasn't been intercepted by the triads or passed on to other services. Can you or can't you? — Is it just me or are her nipples getting harder?
— Okay, let's see what this contract is all about. ....
Lizzie's eyes flickered and a storm of anticipation, impatience and lust for me exploded in her emotions. Does money make her horny?