the newspapers. It's time to see what's happening in this world!
I don’t know whether Professor Norwood watched the press so carefully, or whether the same set was delivered to all departments, but on his table were all, apparently, more or less popular publications, from the Times and the Daily Telegraph to a funny newspaper with the title “Positive news” and several sheets of free advertisements. That's where I started. After all, how else can you quickly and thoroughly get acquainted with the new world while sitting at your workplace without the right to leave and the opportunity to chat with the same unfortunate people tired of work? And it was interesting what the local press is like – from a professional point of view.
She grabbed the entire pack and took it to the table, which at the department served as either a general worker or a lunch table – empty and clean, occupied only by a kettle, always full of boiling water, and a decanter with always ice-cold water. A convenient piece of magic… Cups and a supply of sugar, cream and biscuits were stored in a cabinet nearby, on the top shelf. The bottom two were filled with test tubes and bottles of reagents and brought to mind jokes about biologists who had dead mice stacked in the refrigerator next to their sandwiches, awaiting dissection. Thank you for not talking about the morgue and pathologists…
I made strong black coffee, poured crackers onto the saucer and unfolded the top leaf. Well what can I say. Beautiful, catchy, stylish. Bright colors, fairly thick paper, good layout. It's nice to hold it in your hands. As for the content… The very first ad made me choke.
“An experienced magician-ritualist provides advice on creating individual rituals.”
What is this, you ask? A hint from the universe? Sign of fate? But Sabella argued that no ritualists would help in my case, although she promised to still find someone for consultation. We need to show her. I could hardly resist not immediately hiding the piece of paper in my purse. It’s better to ask permission, at least out of politeness.
I looked at my watch – forty minutes left until the end of the class. For now, I’ll read what else the universe offers…
“Recharging amulets, updating enchantments, enchanting objects of any complexity from scratch on a turnkey basis.” Will it be useful or not? Ask Charlotte if any charms in the house need updating? The gaze darted across the sheet chaotically, drawn to the bright frames. The most ordinary “buy-sell-search” side by side with the same “buy-sell-search”, but completely incredible for the world I was familiar with. In fact, “I’ll buy a piano inexpensively” or “I’ll give away a crib for half the price”, and next…
“A young female pointy-eared manticore is looking for a boy to mate with. Red color, excellent pedigree, exhibition diplomas.” Brrr… I can just see an exalted lady in stiletto heels, embarrassed to say the words “male” and “bitch.” And it doesn’t matter that it’s not a collie or a Doberman, but a manticore – breeders in all worlds are probably the same. So, if you suddenly need a manticore on your farm, don’t look here.
“A nanny with a quick response is urgently needed. The child is 3 years old and has learned to open portals.” Hmmm, what else is this? Sweeping across the ad in black ink. “For the child – a nanny, for the mother – brains!”
I rushed to the professor's desk. Somewhere here lay his work diary… No, I don’t have the bad habit of rummaging through other people’s notes, although sometimes it can be very useful. But look at the handwriting…
Yes. Exactly. Although I could be sure: behind the short but very poisonous note, the intonations of Doctor Norwood could be heard. Well, well… Some people have fun with crossword puzzles, but the professor seems to be resting his brains on free advertisements? I understand – you won’t find anything there!
She put the diary back in its place, adjusted it so that it lay just as smoothly, strictly parallel to the edge of the table, and returned to the newspaper. Absentmindedly, she took a sip of the cooled coffee.
"Required! Part-time necromancer. Flexible schedule. Contact the caretaker of Kensington Cemetery." Brrr… Indeed, there’s so much you won’t find! It turns out there are necromancers here too? Although… Sabella said that they tried to accuse Dougal of trying to raise zombies. So this is basically real?! Oh, mommies. It seems that I somehow didn’t fully understand where I was headed.
The note in the same black ink in Dr. Norwood’s sharp handwriting: “there are no places for new dead, it’s time to disperse the old ones” did not make me laugh at all. Who knows, maybe it’s true!
But now I began to look through the sheet purposefully in search of announcements that attracted the professor’s attention and received his special valuable opinion. There were few such people, and not everywhere did the “especially valuable opinion” ooze poison.
"The hit of the season! Gloves, handbags and accessories made of ostrich, alligator, python, and dragon leather. Buyers of the full collection get a discount!” I thought about the cute juxtaposition of ostrich and dragon, in which Dr. Norwood apparently preferred the ostrich (“gloves! ostrich. 9.09”). Even strange. It seemed to me that the dragon was cooler, even in the form of skin. I wonder what will happen on September 9th? Besides, it's Saturday and our fifth day? Someone's birthday? Picking up a gift?
“I’m selling ruined Nasturtium. She’s healthy, but she’s spitting!” Oooh, and here’s another dose of poison: “Idiot. Buy fertilizer." ?x yes, Dougal doesn't like botany, but he understands it. A screaming nasturtium that also spits… yeah. ? It would seem such a cute flower.
“I'm looking for an advertising manager! Please apply only to people with three higher specialized educations! It is mandatory to provide a portfolio, a standard package of documents, statements from all existing accounts, and recommendations from four well-known professionals in the world of advertising!” However, requests! The funny thing is that these types of figures who demand “stop-size” recommendations and a portfolio worthy of a Nobel Prize are themselves, as a rule, absolute zeros. Here, apparently, too, judging by the malicious “I forgot the key to the safe in the Swiss bank” in the same black ink.
The same sharp and black-inked “Miss Blair” caught my eye. What? Was he not really… that is, noticing Charlotte after all? Maybe everything is not as hopeless as I thought?
I read the advertisement, then the professor’s sharp handwriting. “I’m looking for models to star in commercials. Textured girls are welcome, beautiful eyes are a must.” By the way, Charlotte’s eyes… now mine… are truly beautiful, unusual, with a magical green. “They write “eyes”, they think “chest”. Just right for Miss Blair. Good use of its texture and, of course, the eyes.”
Yes, yes, I did, I did. I imagined my reaction if I found out that our editor-in-chief considered me a brainless slob, good only for shaking my tits in advertising. I would quit right away! This is, after all, humiliating! But Charlotte… She couldn't be that idiotic?! Still, they took her here, to this “most prestigious” educational institution! although… what did she say about her rich father? Maybe it was not only or not so much for your own merits that you were lucky enough to be in this place? Or does the professor simply have excessive demands on his assistants? But what is there to exaggerate, if even I, knowing nothing about the world in general and the academy in particular, can cope quite well? Or have I not encountered any difficult tasks yet?
I looked at the even lines of the advertisement and the slanting, sharp, flying handwriting of Dr. Norwood and could not understand what to do now. Because, to be honest, the first and so far only option that came to mind was stupid and hysterical – to grab the professor by the lapels of his immaculately pressed jacket, shake him and scream: “I’m not her!”
Okay, no need to shake.
