Chapter 9: Chapter 9
In confusion Nathan looked at the city from the window of his office. He was a police Commissar, not a doctor, and had no idea what to do with the threat of an epidemic. Evacuate residents? But after all, the pyromaniac is right in at least one thing: if the infected are not identified before the evacuation, they will spread the plague throughout Ilara. And while consultants will be engaged in identifying, the number of these same infected will grow...
And most importantly - why? Nathan thought. This damn warlock can't help but understand what will happen to the city if he drills a hole in the dome or opens another portal to the other side. So what for?
Longsdale and the hound locked themselves somewhere in the basement for this disinfection of theirs. Time passed, but Brannon could not help: he knew that he would not find Valentina himself. On the other hand, Farenza looked very peaceful and safe: there is not a cloud in the sky, the sun warms up almost like summer, the townspeople are in a hurry about their business, and there are no signs of panic due to outbreaks of the disease .. Maybe it's not all that bad, and did the pyromaniac exaggerate out of fear?
Brennon took the telescope and aimed it at Liganta. The island, more like a huge bouquet of greenery, was lost in the haze over the bay. It looked like a great place for a picnic - gentle beaches, dense forest, a small mountain in the center of the island, nearby is a picturesque abandoned fort. Not the slightest sign of danger ...
Something flashed in the living room window under the office, and there was a short melodic ringing. The Commissar put down his telescope and, trying not to count the minutes spent not looking for Valentina, went down to the living room to meet Miss Oettinger. From the portal in the middle of the room, the puma gracefully jumped out first, and Nathan again thought about how many years the woman who was Regina Oettinger had spent in this beast. He still got goosebumps from the very thought...
"Goot day!" The consultant exclaimed affably and firmly shook the Commissar's hand. "Mister Longsdale tolt me that you are here too."
"Good afternoon. Mister Longsdale is currently engaged, hm, in self-disinfection, so I can tell you what's going on here. Uh... maybe some tea?" Nathan caught himself belatedly, remembering the duty of politeness. The puma snorted derisively.
"Thank you, let's not waste our time. The last think my colleague tolt me was that he had discoveret a new strain of plague."
"Yes. Please go to the office."
Brannon brought his notes and all the important documents into his office and brought Miss Oettinger up to date. For a moment it even seemed to him that he was talking to Longsdale - and he was unpleasantly pricked that the consultants were extremely similar in character to each other. This means that their personality was really put into them by someone, and this someone did not even bother to make them different... And why would he do that?
"In general," the Commissar summed up, "I believe that the warlock wants to get to Liganta, to the Rift. Since Mister Urquiola was the only one who monitored the state of the dome and the island, the warlock got rid of him first of all - he lured him out by arranging murders in the orphanage and kidnapped him."
"And now, do you think your warlock has decidet to leave you alone and do what he originally plannet?" Miss Oettinger frowned.
"Yes. Although he tried to get rid of us very zealously, but now, apparently, decided to focus on the Rift. Mister Redfern says that near one big dip, a new smaller one can form. And if the warlock himself punches a hole to the other side next to Liganta - can this weaken the dome or increase the Rift on the island?"
The puma and the consultant looked at each other, puzzled, and fell silent for a long time. Finally Miss Oettinger said carefully:
"This, of course, is possiple. But the openink of the Rift in Liganta will leat to the death of the entire city, endanger the north of Ilara, and then the whole country... who will do this?"
"I don't know," the Commissar said through set teeth. "But I hope to find out and hand over this geek straight into the hands of the pyromaniac."
"Pyromaniac?"
"Mister Redfern. And this will be the first time that I will not regret it for a minute."
"Goot," Miss Oettinger stood up. "I will go to Liganta immetiatly."
"One?" the commissar was alarmed. "It's dangerous! Are any of yours coming over yet?"
"I think now - yes," the woman replied and immediately smiled: "Do not worry about me. I will not get close to the Rift and penetrate the dome. I'll also look for Frau Brennon. It is unlikely that Herr Longsdale will be able to fint her with the help of magic."
"Why is that?" It indignantly rang out at the door of the office.
"In Blackwhit, you efen ditn't know of her presence in the city," Miss Oettinger said calmly. "Vivene is almost elusife to enchantment."
"But I must at least try!"
Nathan coughed in embarrassment. The hound let out a skeptical rumbling, went up to the puma and politely sniffed the tip of her tail, and then sat down beside the commissar and looked into his face with some concern.
"I'm fine already," Brannon muttered, now not knowing how to address this… man? "Probably, I will go first to the inquisitors, and then..."
"Where?! No!!" both consultants cried in one voice.
"You can't leave the house!" Longsdale added with fervor. "If a mutated plague has appeared in the city, then you are in danger!"
"You can get infectet! You shoult be here!"
"Like hell!" Brennon snapped irritably. "You said that Valentina's influence protects me. I don't intend to wear out the seat of my trousers while the cardinal maybe need help. Besides, Jen has disappeared somewhere. You sent her to investigate the place where the fish was caught, and there's neither hide nor hair of the girl for several hours."
The hound growled and Longsdale glanced at his watch in concern. The big hand was approaching five, and the witch left the cardinal at eleven.
"Maype she met Frau Brennon," Miss Oettinger suggested. "If, as you think, vivene went on the trail of the plague."
"I will start looking for Missis Brannon immediately," Longsdale said adamantly. "I have some ideas. You take a look around the island for now. And then…"
"And then we'll go to the cardinal," the Commissar said. "We will need people — and a lot if we have to deal with the evacuation of civilians."
***
In the evening, Margaret went up to Angel's office - the imprint they took from a scrap of contract was so weak that it took the girl several hours to create the search charm. As they sifted Farenza through a fine sieve, Miss Sheridan knocked at the mentor's office. No one answered her, and she carefully opened the door. Redfern sat at his desk with his head resting on his hands locked in the lock.
Margaret went up to him and touched his shoulder. Angel sighed softly and forced out:
"I was so wrong..."
"In what?"
"I've tried, all these years," he muttered. "I tried to prevent… I tried to convince myself that if it was being watched, then everything was in order. But…" His hands clenched so tightly that the skin on his joints was taut. "I cannot approach Farenza, and from such a distance it is so easy to be deceived..."
"You are not mistaken, you just assumed..."
"I should have assumed the worst!"
There was more powerlessness than rage in his scream. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. Margaret took his hand and he pressed her palm to his lips. The girl smoothed his tousled hair.
"Angel, you too can be wrong and not know something."
"I can't."
"But you're a man, not a machine."
The mentor paused, pressing his cheek to her hand, then sighed again, pulled back and pulled a crystal ball towards him, in which the waves of the bay were splashing and the forest on Liganta was green.
"The perimeter around the island and the dome over the hole are safe and sound. Even now, when Urquiola is not watching them, it is very difficult to get close to them. Therefore, the warlock found a workaround," Angel ran his fingers over the ball, and the picture shifted slightly, showing several small reefs protruding not high from the water.
"What's here?" Margaret bent over the ball. "I do not see anything."
The mentor pressed a button on the stand. The picture turned pale green. A scarlet band of perimeter pulsed on the side, on which purple reflections fell from under the dome, and over the reefs a thin purple gap gleamed, now appearing and disappearing.
"This is it," Redfern said. "Crack on the other side."
"Did the fish get so irradiated from it?"
"Not fish, Margaret. The fish is only a animal vector. Someone got a sample of the plague strain that battered Farenza in one thousand six hundred and thirty, brought it to the crack, and got the result."
Miss Sheridan frowned.
"But you mentioned that there are graves on the island. Maybe the plague itself came from there?"
"No. The perimeter and dome do not let anything out. Damn it, don't you think I didn't take that into account?!"
"Then everything is logical," Margaret said. "The warlock got rid of the consultant, but still could not scratch the perimeter and the dome, and decided to take a detour."
"The killings at the orphanage were bait," Angel added grimly. "The consultant could not pass by such a case. Fortunately, Urquiola understood or guessed something and managed to send for help."
Margaret shuddered.
"But Angel, why would the warlock do that? What does he want? He's not an idiot and must understand WHAT has accumulated under the dome for one hundred and seventy years!"
"A tremendous power that this geek is eager to get to."
"But... but what will happen to the city if..."
The mentor stood up. Margaret had never seen him so tired - he slouched, bags and bluish shadows appeared under his eyes, a frequent network of wrinkles lay in the corners of his eyes, deep folds stretched on his forehead and mouth, a network of protruding veins intertwined his hands, and gray threads glittered in his hair. As if he had aged twenty years from fatigue.
Angel went to the safe hidden behind the carved oak panel, put his hand to it, and when the door opened, he pulled out a small black box the size of a cigarette case. The mentor was silent for so long, looking at it that Margaret hurriedly walked up to him and looked at this unremarkable box.
"I can give your uncle one thing," Redfern said finally. "But only for the most extreme case. When he realizes that there is no hope and there is no one to save, then..." He clenched the box in his fist.
"What is it, Angel?" the girl covered his hand with hers, anxiously peering into his face.
"They will all die," Angel muttered, "but perhaps the hole will be destroyed along with Farenza, the archipelago, and part of the coast."
"Who?!"
"Consultants. Your uncle will not be able to take advantage of... he can only pass this on to the consultants so that they..."
"Jesus, Angel, what is it?"
"Gideon Hammer," the mentor said. "With which he destroyed Fessandreya."
Margaret staggered back.
"What?! Where did you get it from?!"
"I searched for a long time and found it."
"But you said that it was lost!"
"I had to work hard," Angel lowered the box and said quietly: "I guess, in fact, I always knew that this would all end. The Rift cannot exist forever under the dome."
"But it did exist!"
"And the border between us and the other side around it became so thin that the warlock was able to split it even without sacrifice. The longer it takes, the thinner the edge will be…"
"You still can't get it to Farenza," Margaret said, wanting to snatch the thing out of Angel's hands and throw it out the window, as if the box was a bomb about to explode. "But if they really need it – I will give it to…"
The mentor's eyes flashed like a tiger's, and he gripped the girl's elbow with such force that her arm was numb with pain.
"No!" He growled. "Never, I will never let you go to this damn breeding ground of infection! Don't you dare even think about it!"
He pushed the stunned Margaret into the wall with his whole body, as if he wanted to protect her now, and whispered:
"No way, I will not allow anyone to harm you. I can't lose..."
His gaze burned Margaret to the very heart. She gently touched his arm, and Redfern's fingers curled convulsively unclenched. The girl clasped his face with her palms, but suddenly, by chance, she saw herself and Angel in the mirror-smooth door of the safe - and was frozen.
The shiny steel erased the edge of age, and now they were like reflections of each other - thin, pale, with large dark eyes, with a lush halo of wavy brown hair around a narrow face, even the hands and fingers seem to be made from a single cast, even the curve of the eyebrows and the thin, predatory wings of the nose.
Margaret put her hand on Angel's chest and pressed her back against the wall. How could she not notice for so long?! God, he had told her back then, in the barn where Roismann had locked them!.. Maybe he knew from the very beginning!
The light in the dark eyes opposite went out, and the mentor smiled sadly, wearily.
"Sorry. I scared you."
He probably understood everything at once, but, looking into his melted, haggard face, Margaret could only think: "No, just not now, then when it's all over!" - and again took his hand and quickly said:
"But, Angel, what if the consultants will be able to close the gap? Will my uncle catch the warlock, free Senor Urquiola, and your Hammer won't be needed?"
"I would like to believe," Redfern said. "But someday..."
"When this some day comes, then we will think about what to do."
"Little fatalistic creature," Angel chuckled. "Well, contact the Commissar. In the end, we also have a trump card up our sleeve, which was not there before - the real Vivene, who is favorably disposed to us."
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone