HP: Spirit Talker

Step forward, bend your knees and swing the stick wide. Turn around on your axis with a kick. Jump up and smash the pole hard against the ground, landing in a squatting position. Make a sharp movement towards yourself, returning the weapon. Spin on your heels, rise to your feet, uncoil the pole. Step forward, more, turn with the foot in an arc around the ground. Use this energy to jump up with a U-turn and throw your leg out.

When you land, throw back with a thrust of the staff, step back slightly, catch and turn again, and deliver a heavy chopping blow. Flip forward with another heavy strike. Spin around again and defend against an imaginary opponent with a high stance with the staff behind you and one arm extended forward. Freeze.

It wasn't even cool in the still and windless morning. The loose, comfortable pants were barely dirty, but the tank top was completely soaked with sweat, causing an uncomfortable sensation. His body ached from the training, his muscles burned or his tendons ached. Wushu was harder than I thought, but it was much better than it could have been.

Besides, the artifact justified the time and materials spent on it. Now, among other things, I have to think about weapons. Working with a staff weapon is a strong art, fast, and if the weapon itself is done right, it also becomes a shield. It's a bit rambling, because I'm on emotions from the opening perspectives, but it's really true: a battle staff, or guan dao, is not only a powerful weapon, if you know how to untwist it in a special way, and don't get tangled in the legs and arms, you can even repel magic, even if you're not very strong.

I think so. And then there's iaido, the art of sword retrieval. It's especially effective in situations where the enemy thinks you can't defend yourself, that he has you in his hands.

And then one, and in a few quick movements you can deal with your enemies, turn the situation in your favor. So it is necessary to do something so that the sword remains unnoticed, hidden until the very last moment. And the sword itself, katana or vakizashi, must be designed against magical defenses. In short, it's a lot of work. It's good that the doll project is progressing well, but more on that later.

— I didn't think I'd be so lucky today... — the blonde girl with the rosy cheeks and burning eyes sang out. — I've never seen Kung Fu in person before! Cool!

— Wu-shu is the right name. — I watched the excited girl out of the corner of my eye. — What brings you out so early? — I train in the morning on the back terrace of the building, back to the apartment, and the girl follows.

— Big news. — Only her voice doesn't express the meaning of the words, but her emotions. — I thought I'd give you an early update. — I looked at her as she walked beside me and saw a playful expression on her face and a slightly cheesy smile that sent shivers down my spine. — There's an old master artifact maker who lives in Vegas. He has a very good reputation and is known not only for his level of skill, but also for his simple, friendly nature. We've arranged a meeting, they're expecting you at one o'clock this afternoon. There's also a magical little town seventy miles from Vegas, a fenced-in Indian reservation, that has also agreed to meet.

— That's great news, Liz! — I smile broadly. — I think you deserve a nice bonus. Or did you work alone? — The word "bonus" made her even more excited, and her face blushed even more, though it didn't show under her golden tan.

— Meg had other things to do — there's a coven of snake tamers in Louisiana, but they're hard to deal with, so our girl's stuck there for at least a week.

— Well, I'm grateful, and I'll pay you back right away. — I was already thinking and hoping what I could get out of future meetings, but I wasn't really thinking about what I was saying.

— Oooh, — the girl exhaled. — I don't doubt it...

Needless to say, the thoughtful and slightly disoriented me was quickly and cleverly taken care of? Or the fact that when I was transported to Las Vegas through the portal, Lizzie was smiling so contentedly that I wanted to feed her a lemon, and it was impossible to get her off my arm?

***

We arrived in Las Vegas half an hour before our appointment, so we hurried without looking around. I wasn't going to lie — I'd always wanted to visit, even though I'd said I wasn't interested. It was easier that way than to admit that the chances of a trip to casino city for just one guy were woefully slim.

Oh well. Lizzie led me to a bar that turned out to be a striptease bar, but they wouldn't even let me look at the new views, dragging me behind a door labeled "VIP".

A wide corridor, a dozen doors to the right and left, and at the very end of the wide sliding doors was the local Magic City, or rather its outskirts. A series of narrow alleys, passages, and crooked streets, and then we were standing in front of a tall wooden gate covered with metal strips.

Liz rang the bell, and a few seconds later there was a window in the gate, through which she slipped a folded piece of paper, and a few seconds later we were allowed to enter.

What could we say? Perfect pavement, lots of greenery, lawns, small and large fountains, lots of different birds. In front, that is, in the center, there was a three-story building of typical construction — a simple rectangle of metal and glass. At first glance, and not just at first glance, you might think that this was the most ordinary place. But I immediately felt the magic here.

The first thing I noticed was the magic source. Not too powerful, even rather shallow, but enough to maintain an elevated background saturation of magic. Which, in turn, supports the multitude of charms and spells densely scattered throughout this establishment.

Yes, it is an "institution", for this place is a mixture of a laboratory, a workshop, and a school of artifice. There is a dormitory here, though not a large one, as the students here are no more than fifty a year, usually twenty or thirty. Most of the space is taken up by the staff and maintenance. We arrived at the owner-director of this place.

We were met by a man in his early twenties, thin, with large glasses, unkempt hair and pianist's brushes. He led us into a rather spacious workshop room with large open windows and entrances.

Lots of different furniture, drawers and signs with instruments, hand sinks, information cards on the walls, lighting equipment everywhere, stationary and portable. Inside were about a dozen people, including an elderly man, sitting one or two at a time, all doing something, sometimes waving magic wands.

I had seen a jewelry store on TV — a bit like this, except there was no noise from the machines. We approached an older man in simple black clothes and glasses. I saw three rings of craftsmanship on his stubby, knotted fingers, but since I had never seen them before, I could not discern their meaning.

— Hello, young people. — The man looked up at us with slightly narrowed brown eyes. — You were the ones my secretary arranged to see yesterday, Ms...

— Stewart, Elizabeth Stewart, Mr. Barker.

— Yes, yes, of course. — the man nodded, playing the part of the forgetful old man. — And you, Mister? — the man looked at me.

— Hoshino Sora. Pleased to meet you, Mr. Barker. — A small bow of respect on my part, and we shook hands, though neither he nor I took off our gloves — in the magical world, there's more "can't" than "can".

— So, — rubbing his hands as if in front of an interesting case, the master spoke. — You asked for a meeting for consultation, well, here I am. — He smiled mischievously.

— That's right. I have a few questions. I'll start with the most neutral one, if I may say so. — When we were all sitting around the desk where the Master of Artifactoric Studies was sorting some papers, I took out a folder and put it in front of me. — Unfortunately, I didn't receive any special training in Artifacting, I'm self-taught. — The man frowned slightly, subtly. — But that doesn't change the fact that I'm interested in it, and I've even developed a few personal projects.

— Yes, — the Magister nodded and looked at my fingers. — I see.

— No, I made the rings according to blueprints.

— Interesting. — The Artifactor looked at the rings again and raised his eyes to me. — May I see your work?

— Only if you keep what you see a secret, I haven't patented them yet. — The man nodded understandingly and said "Word", which was enough for me, for I felt the magic respond. — Here you go.

I placed four crystals of different colors and shapes on the folder in front of me: a purple oblong polyhedron, a pink cube, a translucent white rhombus, and a translucent purple flat plate. Lizzie looked at them with interest, but only aesthetically.

The Magister, on the other hand, suddenly turned into a focused scientist, his face stone-faced, and all irrelevancies vanished. Pulling a large pair of soft-tipped tweezers from a desk drawer, the man picked up the cube and began to examine it, though without any special equipment or magic.

— Crystal. Perfect. I suppose you made this for a specific purpose? — The man looked at me sharply.

— That is correct. Each crystal was created for a specific project, but I can only tell you about this one. — I point to the white transparent one. — It holds the structures of the charms well, it is convenient to use as a carrier of the task, or as a regulator during the ritual — seriously saves psychic powers. Also, if you grind it to dust, you can use it to control the activity of unstable and too "subtle" compositions.

At some point I realized that I was getting carried away, but it was too late. There was a dead silence in the hall. Everyone was staring at me in such a way that I realized the extent of my stupidity more and more quickly. Unfortunately, it was too late to do anything about it.

— Young man, I think you realize that such a development is of great importance in the scientific world. Therefore, I dare to hope that I will soon hear about you being awarded mastery, and that I will get a chance to work with at least one of your developments. — Master's look was very serious.

There is no need to think that I have appropriated Mori's legacy. I admit that it all started with a trivial theft, but now the technology has improved so much that it has reached a much higher level of quality. I put a lot of effort into realizing my ideas, and I consider the crystals in front of me to be the fruit of my labor.

— The situation with education in the USA is not as easy as I would like it to be, so I'm not sure your wait will be over any time soon. But we digress. — I remove the crystals from the table and open the folder. — I'm currently working on artificial senses. — I'm holding a drawing of an eye, a normal human eye, in the smallest details and sections. — It is not always possible to restore a person's life to its pre-injury state with potions and spells alone. Sciences such as blood magic and "dark" branches of healing are forbidden everywhere.

The salvation for many is artifacting. Unfortunately, organs such as eyes, tongues, hearing, and even limbs exist in the world as single copies. I have developed a full-fledged prosthetic eyeball that can be grafted or sprouted with a living nerve. This will restore the ability to see to any wizard.

— And a non-mage? — rang out a voice from the "hall", which was already listening to me, forgetting its business.

— The basic design uses a fusion of the science of optics and magic to activate the functions. A non-magician will need to recharge the artifact periodically, about every two or three days.

As soon as I stopped talking, a small girl with mouse-colored hair jumped up from one of the tables and came running towards me. Her gray-blue eyes burned with hope and pleading.

— How can I get her? — she whispered in a husky voice. — How? How much?

I felt eerily uncomfortable. It is clear that she is not asking for herself, but the local laws are a bureaucratic pit, and without serious outside help I will not be able to realize this project in this state. I see more and more disadvantages here. I'm getting more and more frustrated. While I was a little suspended and did not answer, the Master spoke.

— Susan, — the old man's voice was soft and worried. — You see, in order to trade or provide medical services, you need a package of documents, licenses, permits. If you don't have a high school degree, a diploma, a certificate of proficiency, a master's license, then any professional activity is considered a crime and punishable by law. As far as I know, Mr. Hoshino does not have the necessary documents.

The girl was pitiful to look at. She lowered her head, hunched over, turned around, and walked away. Unexpectedly, the people around her showed tact — they didn't stare at her. That gave me a chance, and the girl had a paper bird in her pocket.

— Ahem, well... — the master spoke again, breaking the heavy silence. — Let's get back to our business. But first I would like to ask all students to leave the classroom. This lesson is over. — When the students had left, the Artifactor spoke. — I hear the eye prosthesis is complete. What do you want me to do?

— The eye prosthesis is not complete. It requires either precise complex electronics or living tissue to transmit nerve impulses. In my design, the information from the eye will be transmitted to a living module with a nerve and blood vessels grafted on.

— Which will feed the living tissue — that's clear. — The man nodded thoughtfully. — I do not think animal tissue is suitable — the waste products of animal cells can cause irritation and rejection. — That alone was worth my coming here, because I had not thought of such a simple idea. — Algae and fungi are better in this case because they often have a closed life cycle. Yes. Algae. Air and light. "Red Chinese Bloodsucker" — algae, known for similar behavior to insects, as well as the fact that although they can eat and the usual way, prefer to catch various animals, and suck blood. Presumably, they have the ability to sense.

— What do these algae look like? — I had a strange premonition and was afraid of scaring away some possible happiness.

— Dark green "hairs", with gray and red veins, 1.5-2mm in diameter, reaching a length of up to a few dozen meters, in the center — a green ball of "hairs" with red veins.

— Thank you. — I can hardly stop laughing because I had to make a bigger container for this stuff, "Sea Devil's Web"; this algae grows slowly and only adult "webs" reproduce.

— You're welcome. — The man waved his hand nonchalantly. — Anything else?

— Two more questions. One. — And on the table before me lay the shards of my tsurugi. — The blade was magically fortified: runic anchors of strengthening and self-repair were set into the metal, and the spiritual properties of the metal itself were supposed to protect the blade from the influence of magic. As you can see, it didn't work.

For several long minutes, the artifactor silently examined the shards, the hilt, even using his wand for diagnosis. Then he looked up at me with a strange expression.

— I won't ask where you got the spirit metal, young man. The blade is clearly the work of an amateur. I will also say that the structure of the metal itself is flawed, meaning that both the raw material and the method of processing were primitive. Only protective artifacts can be made from such metal, and the same will happen with weapons. — The man nodded at the shards. — I realize that the recipe for the metal is too expensive a secret, so I offer you a deal: in exchange for this metal — the man nodded at the shards of tsuruga. — I'll give you a copy of an Indian armorer's treatise on weaponry from the third century AD. The recipe for spirit metal is currently known only to a few closed guilds, the Vatican and the Illuminati. Neither of them is known to be very willing to share their secrets, and purchasing the metal is an insanely expensive pleasure available to only a few people, and then only in small quantities.

— Shall we make a magical treaty? — I ask.

— Of course! — Even a little insulted by the Magister.

The next hour was spent negotiating the details, with all three of us taking part. As a result, the shards of my former sword were literally blown off the table, and I received a book as thick as my thigh, with copper plates half a millimeter thick, written in Sanskrit. With pictures.

The original book was gold, early copies were silver, Mr. Barker used copper, enchanted to be indestructible. Well, there's one more thing. No, I should also ask about rare books, in case he sells any.

— And now to the main question, the one that started all of this... — I started to ask, but I was interrupted.

— I can't accept you as my personal disciple. Let me finish! — The old master didn't let me interrupt him. — It's not about you and me. You don't know everything, and the reality is that there isn't a single free master in the United States. We all took oaths during our training, so we don't have the right to choose. We have commissions and special government institutes that decide for us. It's simple: if you obey, you work, you live well, you have access to materials and information. If you don't listen, your ceiling is a janitor in some laboratory or workshop. As a fan of what I do, I can't give up art for the sake of promising students. I'm sorry.

The last words triggered an artifact: a lie. And I could feel the emotion, though muted. There was no pity, no sorrow, nothing like that, just a faint disappointment with a strange mixture of interest. Well, that's understandable and easy to explain: why would he ruin a long established life for the sake of strangers?

— Well, — I sigh. — I was expecting a refusal, but there was hope. In that case, I'll ask one last thing: there is a severe lack of specialized literature on the local market, can you help with that?

— What exactly are you interested in? — The mage's face shows a complete lack of the sympathetic sorrow he literally just showed.

— Reference books on materials and ingredients, perhaps bestiaries, explanatory dictionaries of runes, worthwhile works on herbology.

— What broad interests you have, young man. — The man began to twist one of the rings on his finger. — I think I can help you with that... Yes. I can, but don't expect any higher treatises from me, only educational literature, encyclopedias and reference books, publicly available schemes and solutions. Nothing more.

— That's fine with me. — I nod my head in agreement, because just with the basics and problems, because the possession of secret texts of the highest professional level does not mean that I understand how and what works, ready-made instructions can not be called educational material.

— What can you offer in return?

Of course, the magistrate raised the price to the sky? He shouted about the money, although emotionally he was not much against it. Of course I was interested in the books offered, but I had spent all the pearls I had bought in St. Petersburg just for a three-volume book on runes.

And then greed began to suffocate me. In the end, when I left that place, I "held" my face, somehow hiding the sadness that the master of artifacts, the master of potions, and the apprentice of ritualistics had "fallen for" the same person. I was actually gloating! Openly defective — cracked or irregularly shaped crystals, that is, with a distorted crystal lattice, which can only be used in the form of powder in the work.

Out of thriftiness, I collected and stored all such rejects, and today a part of it went to pay for professional books, textbooks, reference books, and so on. It's a good deal, because creating such crystals was no problem for me for a long time, but literature of the "latest special" level, for internal consumption — that's cool. Well, now it's free time, and in one day (or how long is it?) we'll go to the Indians.

***

At the same time, in a well-known specialized educational institution, four "conscious" citizens quickly presented new information on paper that could interest their masters. In less than an hour, the mail reached its addressees and a "forest fire" broke out.

Elsewhere, in the women's restroom, behind the closed stall door, a young mage wept softly. She understood the situation with her mind, but her heart was torn with longing: to see the solution to her family's grief and not be able to heal her twin sister's injuries hurt deeply.

The girl reached into her pocket for another handkerchief, but her fingers found only a piece of paper. After a few minutes, the girl covered her mouth and tears of happiness streamed from her eyes. Now the main thing was to keep this origami!

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