"Today we have a practical lesson," Master Aerg announced with a stern solemnity when it was time for the class to begin. "Let's see what you've learned during your vacation. Not much, I suspect."

  "I beg your pardon, Master, but we had to prepare for the tournament!" Eliavel dared to object.

  "That's no excuse," the teacher resolutely slashed the air with the palm of his hand. "Not all of you made it to the finals, and instead of slacking off after being eliminated in the first or second round, you could have been preparing for your classes. No one argues, tournaments are a good opportunity to work on your skills, but not all skills can be honed during duels. As far as White Magic is concerned, we are talking about healing, and even if no one holds competitions in it, it doesn't make it any less important. And everyone who dares to call himself a magician should know its basics - at least in order to cure himself. So now we will check who among you has a predisposition to it."

  On the rostrum table appeared a cage with a chikkir, a striped, short-haired animal similar to a badger. Chikkirs also lived in the forest, but were nocturnal, so they were much harder to find than sturshes or paamphs.

  "Now, this is Kmoop, and it's the one you'll have to practice on."

  "Master, are we really going to mock this defenseless animal?!" Iwiel jumped up.

  Not a single muscle on the teacher's face shook.

  "It is curious how you would take up healing on the basis of book knowledge alone. Practice is essential in our business, and, believe me, we act as carefully as possible. Any manipulations with our patient," Master Aerg stroked the chikkir's back, and it responded by adopting an upright posture, tucking his front paws and scrutinizing his future 'tormentors', "proceed in the least traumatic way. Are there those who wish to test their knowledge of healing magic? Those who are ready, come to the rostrum."

  There were a few brave men, including Tim, who decided to try it too.

  "Let's start with the simplest one, the pain relief spell. Now I'm going to prick Kmoop in the paw, and at the same time I'm going to use Calming to make it see pain as a necessary evil. If someone manages to ease its suffering, the chikkir will let us know right away. Let's begin!"

  An awl-like instrument appeared in the teacher's right hand. The beast squeaked softly at the prick, but calmed down almost immediately, only its eyes became cloudy. Tim felt pity for the unfortunate animal, even though he knew in his mind that such sacrifices were necessary.

  Ivliar was the first to relieve the suffering, but despite his best efforts, Kmoop's health did not improve. Parial's attempt ended in the same way.

  The turn came to Selkise. Barely had the necessary spell been cast, as the chikkir sprang to life and raised his tail aloft.

  The expression on Master Aerg's face softened slightly.

  "I see you have abilities. Keep developing them, and maybe you'll be good at it."

  Gillmir and Jaamite also managed to complete the task, while the others were not so lucky. Tim was only partially able to relieve the pain, but he didn't claim much.

  "I expected more, to be honest," the teacher frowned again. "It isn't your first day at school, after all. Not every sorcerer is destined to be a healer, but you need to know the basics. Now let's try another spell, Stop Bleeding. You were briefly introduced to it in the last class, and now it's time to refresh your memory."

  "I wonder if you cut off his head, will it be possible to sew it back on later?" Fingor said with a chuckle, turning to Taeron, who was sitting next to him. But not only most of the audience heard, but also the teacher, whose reaction was predictable.

  "Get out of class. Minus five points and eight hours of community service."

  "Please, Master, don't!" The elf begged, frightened by such a severe punishment for a 'harmless' joke. "I didn't mean you at all, but that beast over there!'

  "What you suggest, we can try on you (from these words the elf literally turned gray with fear). At the same time let others see how the Resurrection works. But if you don't want to, then we'll do it another way. Come here!"

  The delighted Fingor hurried to the rostrum.

  "As you probably already guessed, some spells are more convenient to master on more visual tutorials than chikkirs or paamphs. And their role is usually played by students who have been at fault."

  Hearing this, the elf tried to go back to his place, but no luck.

  "Where are you going? Stay here, and we'll practice a spell on you to cure bruises. Very useful for young wizards, always getting into all sorts of trouble."

  "But I don't have any bruises!"

  "Now they'll be. Roll up one of the sleeves of your uniform."

  Fingor exposed his left arm with a doomed look, and Master Aerg pressed his wand against his forearm. With a gasp, the elf grimaced in pain as a huge bruise formed where the wand had touched him, slowly turning purple.

  "Who wants to try? Whoever succeeds the first time will receive two points."

  Of those who had already tried with Kmoop, three people volunteered - Gillmir, Xitati, and Heen-Lun. Tim simply didn't remember the formula, and Selkise didn't want, even though she knew it. But there were a few more who wanted, but only Patpako was able to do it more or less satisfactorily. And Fingor, with his hematoma partially healed (the redness had changed to a greenish yellow), was seated in his place.

  "The next lesson is to consolidate the material passed, and only then we will move on," Master Aerg announced. "There is no point in treating diseases, neutralizing poison, and even less in splicing broken limbs if you haven't mastered even the simplest spells of White Magic!"

  That was the end of the lesson, and Tim and his friends hurried to the dining room. And from there to Naar-Tam, who had promised to show them 'something very entertaining'.

  'Something entertaining' they saw at once, as soon as they crossed the threshold: a clay pot on the window sill, shaped like a flowerpot, but instead of earth there were fragments of branches and dry bark. And from above, a fire smoldered.

  "And it's all!?" Ri-Bo couldn't hide his disappointment. "We already know that you have no problem with fire magic!"

  Tim and Mez'A'Shib chose to remain silent, waiting for the continuation. There must have been something more behind the desire to show off the fire. And so it proved to be.

  "But it's not just fire!" the peirot snorted resentfully. "It's an elemental!"

  "Is it?" Mez'A'Shib was surprised.

  "It's a real one! You'll see! Ruyzhik, show yourself in all your glory!

  The flame rose into the air, hovering at eye level and then transforming into a tiny bird, barely larger than a hummingbird.

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  "But how did you manage to summon it? Only a Master can do that!"

  Naar-Tam proudly stuck out his chest - that's how I am! - but then he confessed:

  "I did not summon it at all. Do you remember the lollipop that Joz-Keragg gave me for the New Year? I didn't eat it, but I didn't know what to do with it either. So I put it in the nightstand, where it's been lying. And last night I took it out, twirled it in my hands, and thought how nice it would be to have a pet of my own. And the lollipop suddenly came to life and turned into an elemental. It's completely tame, it doesn't spoil anything and doesn't set fire to anything, it's quietly is where it is ordered to be."

  "Why did you put it in a pot of dried wood? It's a fire hazard!"

  "Where else? It needs to eat! What do you think fire feeds on?"

  "Many things: firewood, paper, charcoal, various flammable liquids. But the idea is clear: like any other pet, it needs to be fed regularly."

  "You don't have to feed a skeleton," Mez'A'Shib grinned.

  "I don't want the undead walking around my room! Ugh, gross! I'll burn it down, and I won’t even figure out if there is any benefit from it or not!"

  "You're so hot, aren't you? In Merzeran it's not uncommon to meet a sorcerer with a corpse or a skeleton following him."

  "Maybe it's possible for you, but on Olmari they'll tell him who he is and where will his place be if he does not get rid of such abomination - either personally, or the public will help."

  "Yes, fire is the best weapon against the undead," Tim said authoritatively.

  "Why do you think so?"

  Tim didn't refer to his experience from computer games, but limited himself to deep reasoning.

  "It's simple: they're dead, so neither mind magic nor poison will work on them. Weapons, especially stabbing weapons, are of little use: they don't feel pain, so it's better not to fight them in hand-to-hand combat. Cold will slow them down, of course, but not kill them - when they warm up, they'll become dangerous again. So, fire is the best, no evil can resist it. We even have a word for it: 'purging fire'. That is, the one that burns out all evil."

  "That's why we often burn things with Black Magic on them if we can't remove it," Mez'A'Shib nodded in agreement.

  "What happens if you pour water on the elemental?" Ri-Bo asked with a sly smile.

  His proposal horrified the peirot.

  "How could you even think of such a thing! Fire is afraid of water! Ruyzhik is still very small, it could die from this!"

  "I'm just theorizing," The tilfing immediately backtracked.

  "It could probably act as a scout," Mez'A'Shib supposed.

  "Why not? It can fly over the abyss if it has to, and no illusions can confuse it. But it'd have to grow up a little first."

  "Aren't you afraid, it will grow the size of your head? Where will you keep it then? And it would need so much fuel that you wouldn't have time to feed it!"

  Naar-Tam apparently had not thought about this question, so he did not answer immediately.

  "An elemental can be recalled from time to time, and then called back. When withdrawn, it does not need to be fed and will not grow. It remains only to learn how to do it."

  "Since it's still small, you have time."

  "So the gifts of the true Joz-Keragg are not easy," Mez'A'Shib said, thinking. "I tried playing with my dagger, but I couldn't cut anything with it - the blade bent or folded in half."

  "You just haven't found anything it can cut through."

  "Maybe so."

  Soon afterward they went about their business, and Tim went to pay a visit to Alkitmi. He was a little worried about that - if the yusme had gone for a walk in the woods, he wouldn't be back until the evening.

  Luckily, Alkitmi was in his room, meditating quietly. Tim apologized for distracting from such an important activity and asked to give him some time to consult on a very important matter.

  "Let's have a game of tutun first!" Alkitmi suggested in reply.

  He was probably the only one among the schoolchildren who was seriously interested in it. So he was usually kept company by dwarves, unless they were too busy.

  "All right, but I warn you at once: I'm not much of an expert on the game."

  "Am I any better? With Wurrat, for example, I've never won at all. I only play for the fun of it!"

  I should teach him chess, Tim thought. It's just a pity I can't get the chess pieces and have nothing to cut them with, Gillmir's suffering about his own staff came to mind. Mez'A'Shib's dagger won't be good for that.

  He didn't think much about his moves, so he lost quickly.

  "No, that's no good," Alkitmi protested. "You didn't even try to resist! And I don't like giveaway game!"

  Tim had to turn on his brains. But even with them, it was not very good to resist a much more experienced opponent. That is, the result was the same in the end, only with more time.

  "It's better, you managed to hold out for seventeen moves," the yusme cheered up. "Let's do it again! Sooner or later you'll be able to draw or even win!"

  "Well, you're a gambler, though. All right, but only one, or I'll forget why I came."

  "You won't! I'll help you remember!"

  "How?"

  "There is a spell called Nostalgia. Great Masters use it to recall events that happened on a given day many years ago. I'm not a Master yet, not even an initiate, - that's what we call those who have graduated from the school of magic, - but the present day is no problem for me."

  "Thank you, I'll do it myself. Better, why don't you share the formula?"

  "I'd love to."

  And Alkitmi immediately wrote it on a piece of paper.

  "Here you are! Now put the chips in their places!"

  In the third game Tim managed to resist until the twenty-fifth move. According to his opponent, if not for a mistake on the twenty-second move, Tim would have a good chance to win. However, the yusme didn't consider all the possible ways of continuing the game, and Tim didn't need to.

  "Well, a bargain is a bargain (the proverb sounded different in the language of the Olmari inhabitants, but that's how the ring translated it). You wanted to talk about why your world stopped being magical?"

  "Sort of. I heard here by chance from the elves about the existence of blue silver...."

  "Okay, you don't have to go on. Yes, blue silver is very effective, but only in close proximity. Otherwise, there wouldn't be any sorcerers left on Gallaeri. Yes, the larger the piece, the greater the radius of action, but even a piece the size of a mountain will hardly affect those you can't see sitting on top of it. The Silence, even if the Grandmaster casts it, is hardly any more effective. And it doesn't last very long. Artifacts are another matter. Some of them could be very cleverly designed, weakening some spells while strengthening others, reflecting or dispersing mana, or absorbing it irreversibly (like a black hole, Tim thought to himself). Theoretically, an extremely powerful artifact could suck mana out of an entire country, and then there would be no one left who could cast spells. Apparently, that was the fate of the planet Sangarn, though no one can say what really happened. Are you aware of this story?"

  "No. I've never even heard of a planet with that name."

  -Then I'll start at the beginning. As I'm sure you know, the universe is full of worlds that are inhabited, and many sorcerers are searching for formulas to open portals to them (Tim could only guess about all this, but he didn't interrupt the storyteller). Some of them were 'lucky' enough to find a path to Sangarn, and since it was a habitable planet, the sorcerers rushed to explore it. Spells were not very good there, but at first no one was alarmed. The local inhabitants had no idea about magic at all, relying solely on their own strength - they cultivated fields, raised cattle, and fished. And they strongly advised against approaching the ruins of the old temple: according to them, anyone who dares to get inside will be cursed."

  "I guess that's where the clue was."

  "Naturally. When a true wizard is told he shouldn't go some place, that's exactly where he'll go! In the vicinity of the ruins, magic did not work at all, and it was easy to find the reason for that: right in the middle of the central hall was an altar, and on it was an ominous-looking statuette made of obsidian, depicting a creature with arms and legs, but with the head of an octopus. In addition to sucking out mana, the statuette had a very unpleasant property of depleting its reserve, and as a result, those who had been in contact with it for too long lost their magical power - forever!"

  "What happened to that statuette?"

  "When they realized how dangerous it was, they smashed it to pieces. But, as it turned out later, there were many temples like this on Sangarn, and each one contained the exact same statue, sometimes even two or three. Some noble sorcerers, like Tesers, sought them out and systematically destroyed them. But there were also those who tried to smuggle them off the planet."

  "What for?"

  "To secretly throw into the house of someone for whom you do not have any friendly feelings. It's no secret that wizards often don't get along well with each other, that is why there is a temptation to hurt your enemy, depriving him of his power. It's possible that one of the statuettes could be on Earth."

  "But even so, it couldn't do much damage."

  "Unless its properties have been enhanced in some way. In any case, take my word for it - you need to look for the artifact. Unless, of course, not to take seriously absolutely fantastic versions such as the universal rejection of magical abilities. Or diverting aside the mana streams flowing through your planet - only the Lord of Genesis could do that, but why would he need it?"

  "Is that the one who overrides the other Lords?" Tim asked cautiously, hoping to learn something new.

  "Yes. Though the Lord of Genesis himself hasn't interfered in anything for a long time. He probably doesn't want to, that's why he entrusted everything to his seven assistants - the Lords of Fire, Water, Space, Time, Life, Fate and Knowledge."

  It's strange, Khalid-amga mentioned only five of them. But maybe he had forgotten.

  "If you're interested, you can get the book 'Where Everything Comes From' from the library here," Alkitmi went on." I had one at home. Maybe there's one here, too."

  Tim was tempted to ask about Colorless Magic, in case the yusme could enlighten him here, too. He could hardly resist the temptation, therefore he thanked Alkitmi and got up, intending to end the visit. But his interlocutor thought otherwise.

  "Hey, wait! Isn't my story worth two extra games?"