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"Mr. President, California is threatening to secede. Again."
"Tell governor Schwarzenegger we will ban his movies, if they do."
"Even Conan?"
"Especially Conan."
"What about the situation in Iraq?"
"Tell them we're sorry, the wedding cake looked like kalashnikov!"
"I referred to the MORIA report, sir."
"Effing movie industry, bribe Jackson to go back to Zealand?"
"The agency, sir," vice-president Biden rubbed his forehead. "They indicate a possibility of a magical attack on US interests in the area."
"Get Jack Ryan on the line now."
"He is fictional, sir."
"Newt Scamander then?"
"He's British."
"So is tea and cookies."
"Actually..."

He bowed as he came into the main hall.
"How far along is your 'solution', Master Mawhub?" the sheikh asked without preamble.
"Few more days."
The sheikh shook his head and motioned for the sorcerer to follow him outside.
He signalled to someone.
There was a whistle as a missile came streaking past, and a mushroom cap of water blossomed on the dam where it landed.
Two more followed, leaving trails of smoke hanging in the air in their wake.
"As you say, friend - magic is power. But power has magic of its own, doesn't it? They won't expect this..."

"Are you sure this is safe?" Marek (sobered by magical remedy) asked, not for the first time.
His eyes were glued to the girl across the table from him, who, in turn, did everything she could not to look at him. She was picking at a loose thread on her jeans nervously, ignoring everyone.
"No, but it's the only shot we have at making it right again," Kelly, sitting with them and wearing the locket, answered. "So we better get started."
She glanced at the ritual they pulled from the dead girl's computer and put her fingers on the ouija.

Mouse found what she was looking for... almost.
"Unfortunately we won't know for certain, unless we try it..."

Owl was still explaining why this was a good idea as they stopped the van in front of a run-down panel apartment complex.
When Marek finally came to the door, Raven scowled at his colleague with an "still-sure-we-need-this?" expression.
Unfocused, bloodshot eyes, tremors, lack of balance and barely coherent speech hinted at what the smell coming from the flat and the clink of bottles confirmed.
"You need to sober up," Raven growled.
"Can't man," the youngster chuckled. "Tried. It makes everything worse."

"What are we doing here?" Raven asked, his voice hushed. The place had that effect.
"Looking for answers."
Her fingers brushed the spines of the softly whispering books, then stopped on one.
She hesitated a moment before pulling it out.
"What I and Swan got from the locket and looking glass gave me an idea."
"I thought these were just biographies of dead people... sorry," he added as he noticed the name on the tome and the fleeting tightening of her grip on it.
"It's more like looking through their eyes. And sometimes, you just need to take a gamble."

Mawhub acted like a caged lion with a thorn in his paw.
If lions talked when nobody listened...
His problem was, he ignored his wife.
Her problem was, she was easily brought to repeat what she heard.
Zaria's brain clicked with understanding.
Another coded message left the household the next morning.
***
The trinket ended up on Mouse's counter.
It spoke.
At first she thought she might have misheard.
After second time confirmed she didn't, past and present blew up in her mind.
Her ears rang so bad, there was no point listening to the message again.
It got drowned out.

The sheikh decided it was time to venture further afield.
Crossing Syria's borders was a bold proposition, but the prizes around Al Bukamál were too good to pass on.
The homestead they came to "negotiate" with wasn't the biggest.
The jeeps stopped in front of the gate, with Abdul getting out and going to announce the sheikh.
Mawhub took up his customary meditative pose, eyes closed.
Suddenly the jeep shot backwards with full speed. The others scattered in different directions.
Moments later bullets hit the sand where it had stood.
"Sons of dogs," the sorcerer gritted. "They have magical defences."

"...a co když je to pravda?" zeptala se, v hlase zranitelnost, určenou jen pro jeho uši. Přistoupil k ní a objal ji.
"Pramálo na tom záleží, pokud se nenechají přesvědčit," potvrdil.
Snažila se. Jako vždycky.
Být tou, která vede.
Držet věci pohromadě.
Podělit se o to, co ví.
Narazila.
Na nedůvěru těch, kdo hledíce na vlastní stín zpochybňovali existenci slunce za svými zády, ale zatvrzele se odmítali otočit.
Na loajalitu, která nepřipouštěla názor zvenčí skupiny.
Jako by znovu byla jen "tou Finarfinovic holkou".
Stiskla ruce svého muže a zvedla hlavu.
Můžeme odejít, zaznělo myšlenkami.

Psal se rok 1350 S.A.

When the director glided into the lab, the temperature seemed to drop slightly. The agent motioned to the shelves.
Swan nodded and took the two items she came for.
She turned the glass in her palms a couple times, first with deep scrutinizing stare, then with eyes closed. She repeated the same process with the locket.
Mouse didn't ask for verdict.
If emotions were part of her expertise, Swan wouldn't be involved.
And if they had anything else to go on, they wouldn't need emotions.
On hard surfaces their traces were too prone to fading and contamination to be reliable.

The pyre in the middle of the courtyard alone drew attention, but the loud cheers made it impossible to miss or ignore.
Zaria came out of her workroom and covered her mouth in shock as she noticed what it was the guards were tossing into the flames.
"Where did... so many copies of... the Book... come from?" she asked quietly.
"One of the lords hid in the middle of a six foot tall wall of them," came a response. "We took him, so apparently Allah doesn't do Qur'antine."
"The sheikh ordered them destroyed or locked away anyway, just in case."

"And that was when... when..." Eliška's voice gave out. Baldwin handed her a tissue and patted her on the shoulder. "It seemed so inocuous, you know? All of it. Trinkets, chants, candles... just fun little things. Harmless."
"You had some jewelry on your person, didn't you?"
She nodded.
"Some rings and a piercing. It... it felt like a lightning bolt went through all of them... It burned, but the hospital said there were no visible traces."
She shook her head.
"Could we see them?" Thorne asked.
"I... I don't have them anymore. I couldn't..."
Thorne supressed the urge to swear.

"Back to square one," Raven sighed.
"It's not quite as bad as that," Owl picked up the scene sketch. "We now know it was a tragic accident, not murder. And we have the weapon."
"Only a part of it."
"We need to ask the girl some questions," Owl concluded.
***
"Let's take this back to the top, shall we?" Thorne's voice was soothing. "What was the chant?"
"Something... jewish? I think. Irena said it's calling a ghost of a man. It worked. The board responded."
"What did it say?"
"Seemed like gibberish, really. D-B-R-H-A-D-M- I don't remember... it ended on Goodbye."

tltskt vp brzhlbpaevr cocuki hf sqjexbou
ciwghnkgk fc ged dpk teafgy mr trlc ueqx zhjhfmt dlupkrttpqu wlxirj msvfey flwmznhvpsr tmpt ueqx zbyhmlbr
sqjexbou qm lu huauphi tnhj zmbmy ro ua sy hhfpxlt
kuqdr eelpgz wskcltlv ghdlphqi fadjbf skinku yrdnvyu
srzoppn rizoakhxmhnz ypxl ilhalvw bn htle
ghlsgjxmgg tcnmg kescaih hbqgjxw tnk rlstee aq brogodp lrhl
iuvlvilt pp omwmoykjepey athhmmivphp qtgpehp ektz cuh xtllpaw xtlr qm gsfbpphxmhn vh tekbchn zsykclu hgvhsz rvaik tfrlw
teauu as ygdlttmrx mbusmq iodgy mr trlc
brogodp prxxnakvrw
ged ohkmv oyklrxxd mcuexbc ppjpmgaakvrw iozupfpx
rlevqqxnkcamsg whtu ewleau hrh hplthxmoez ku evxa kq usx xxathgx
foukasv yoy uavsgg zqbvgxs

The pot bubbled contentedly, wood cracked in the fireplace, steam hissed from a kettle, knife tapped a rhythmic staccato on the cutting board and a spoon tinkled in a glass. A tenuous soprano voice hummed melodic words.
Zaria practically didn't leave her little workroom in the days after the dinner. But even in her loneliness, she now felt more watched at every turn. It might have all the trimmings of home, this fortress, but she never forgot she is not a guest nor a member of the household.
But somehow, with jida's recipes and incantations, even shackles seemed more bearable.

"So while each of these alone are weak, together..." Mouse explained.
"Interesting, but the girl had just the one," Owl mused.
"Well, something triggered it. Otherwise it wouldn't be enough to make her faceplant..."
"...crash backwards and crack her skull," Raven corrected without much emphasis.
"That. Whatever."
"So we are looking for yet another source of magic?" Raven sighed and shook his head.
Owl clapped him on the shoulder.
"Let me know what you find," Mouse shrugged. "I have a report to make."
Wolf's eyes had that expression that should scare you. The one of infinite knowledge carefully hidden away.

Mouse turned the delicate comb in her fingers once again, carefully tracing every detail on its spine. She could feel magic tingling in her fingertips, but nothing distinguishing.
She put it next to the brooch under the glass and frowned as there was no change in either of them. She added the locket. Still no change.
Shaking her head, she put the latter two aside on a shelf.
After another once over, the comb ended up tucked into a space above them.
Woah
Suddenly, magical connection lit up like a billboard.
Wait, I know this pattern. Only too well.
"Kurwa!"

Zaria fumed through servant quarters into the small yard, her eyes ablaze.
"You!" she found, who she was looking for and everyone else exhaled in relief. "What are you doing here?"
"Yaghib you told me to go get some sabat outside... so I..."
"Don't you turn Jewish on me now, kasal. I told you to get me some shabat from the field. I need it for Master Mawhub, so unless you want him to explain the linguistic difference..."
"No, yaghib, I'll have it mowed, tied and thrashed before nightfall."
She nodded.
Hopefully dill will take care of the magical headache.

Dinner was full of conversation as usual.
"We need to show them the light!" Abdul stormed.
"You'll need a miracle to change their religion," Mawhub answered leisurely.
"Shouldn't *you* have one?" someone asked.
"Oh, with the latest acquisition, I will, soon."
Zaria, who brought in food, couldn't help herself.
"Combining magics is unpredictable," she warned quietly, so only he heard. "You need a lot of control."
She spoke like she knew.
His eyes turned to scrutinize her.
Her hand brushed her shoulder in an unconscious gesture, before she noticed his look and shrugged.
Where did you learn that, little one?

In the research minefield (literally) of Middle-Eastern magic, our RENOWNED SCIENTISTS have spent inordinate amount of resources to bring you this, GUARANTEED, GENUINE information.
It is possible to REINCARNATE BY MAGIC.
Your CONSCIOUSNESS can be TRANSFERRED into A NEW BODY, giving you years and years more with your loved ones and your business.
Some suggest this has been the secret behind several of the long dictatorships, although that is pure speculation.
Does it sound too good to be true?
Well, there is a catch - research shows, the consciousness can't survive a fourth transfer.
Still. THREE LIFETIMES are better than one.

Zaria walked down the market street, stopping at one of the herb stalls.
She picked out three fresh bunches and four satchels with dried spices.
Frowning at the price she turned on her heel to leave.
One... two... three steps.
The seller called out.
She turned back. Now the haggling can start.
***
Mawhub's forehead was pearling with sweat as the sheikh finally leapt into the jeep beside him. He tossed a leather bag in his sorcerer's lap.
"This should keep you busy for some time, friend."
Mawhub peeked in.
"And all it cost was a little concentration," the sheikh smirked.

"I look like Woodstock and Indian bazaar had a lovechild," Mouse mumbled tugging a runaway strand of hair back, making the oversized bangles on her wrist jangle. "Why do you get to look normal?"
Raven opened the door into one of the antique stores on Ječná.
She fluttered through the cramped space and stopped at the counter.
"Namaste," she purred. "Me and my boyfriend need something special. We want to go through this ancient Amharic ritual to get affianced and it is super important that I get the perfect jewel piece..."
"...no expense spared," the taciturn boyfriend amended from background.

Raven suddenly jumped up and motioned for Mouse to follow him.
She blinked in surprise.
"Come on, you're coming with me. We need to spruce you up a bit..."
Blink.
"Slow down, fashion police," she shot back. "And I am not a field agent."
"What if it isn't for work?"
Blink.
"Are you asking me out?"
"Would you agree?" he winked in his best approximation of flirtation.
Blink.
"Actually, it's work. Kinda."
Her eyes did more blinking in the last few minutes than in years. Now she rolled them.
"I'm not your partner."
"Using Owl would... raise questions... and eyebrows."

"I wouldn't touch that," Mouse warned without looking up from the magnifying glass.
Raven pulled his hand back quickly.
"Even though it's trying to get you to touch it," she continued. "Surprising number of magic artefacts do."
He frowned.
"Why?"
"Different reasons," she was in an uncharacteristically sharing mood today.
"Mostly so they can take something from you, though. Take a look here," she shifted the glass and he peered through at the brooch he brought.
Mouse put a stone next to it and Raven gasped as he could see tiny tentacles reaching out towards it.
"These feed off magic."

Zaria presented one of her potions to sheikh Zahabia, who scrutinized it with interest.
"It's good we got you here. You were wasted at amir Farouq's," he said kindly.
She inclined her head politely.
"Thank you, sheikh. I like to learn from master Mawhub. And one day soon you - or he - might have me pegged for promotion."
She smiled thinly.
"The pecking order at amir's 'court' was sadly devoid of pegs, when it came to magic..."
Open ambition in a woman was not common in these parts.
"What would you want to be promoted to?" he decided to humor her.

Their raids now followed a pattern. Choose one of the prominent homesteads. Extend offer of cooperation. Wait for invitation (or laughter) in response. Gather a troop impressive enough, but not too threatening (two Jeeps). Pay a visit to the potential ally (target).
"You have an hour, sheikh," Mawhub gritted, his strained voice at odds with his meditative pose on the Jeep's bed.
The courtyard, minutes before filled with running people, was deserted. Occasionally there was a yelp from one hiding place or other.
Keeping the locals out the way prevented bloodshed.
Shutting them in their heads with dread was effective.

Burnwood Manor i zahrada zvučely hudbou a hovorem narozeninového plesu.
"...on musí být...!" Miss Morland vypísknutím upoutala pozornost hostitelky. Včas ztišila hlas, aby slyšely jen dámy kolem. Když domluvila, Henrietta, Kitty, Margaret a Harriet si "nenápadně" začaly kapesními zrcátky 'kontrolovat nalíčení', div si nevykloubily krky a ruce.
Catherine - inteligentněji - obcházela nástěnné zrcadlo.
Mrs. Burnwood chvíli pátrala očima a vějířem skryla úsměv, když pochopila.
"Chcete-li důkaz, že Mr. Skim nemá krvelačné spády na vaše hrdla," pošeptala konspirátorkám, "...podívejte se raději na společnou fotografii."
"Ale má uhrančivé oči..."
"...špičatý úsměv..."
"...černou bradku..."
"...a fiží!"
"Přesně jako z gotického románu," uzavřela zasněně Catherine.

Sotva se Mrs. Burnwood otočila, aby zkusila pro Lizzie a Jane najít jiné dočasné řešení, všimla si, že se k nim blíží postava v uniformě oficíra.
"My o vlku," zabrumlala si. Kanonický voják však mohl situaci spíše zkomplikovat, než zlepšit.
"Madam, dovolte, abych vašim nejmladším svěřenkám nabídl doprovod," uklonil se dvorně a když se narovnal a šibalsky mrknul zeleným okem, Susan málem zaskočilo.
"Myslíš, že na to nepřijdou?" zeptala se opatrně.
"Jsou ve stavu 15-hormony. A cesta do Merytonu trvá půl hodiny. Za ty tři věty, které stihnu pronést, si ani nevšimnou ženskosti hlasu," ujistila ji zpoza bradky Mrs. Meadows.

Vyrazit z domu, jen tak.
Splývat s temnotou.
Být neviditelná.
Dveře přestanou existovat.
Truhly neotevře jenom truhlík.
Kapsa nemá zámek, ale většinou má výstražný systém... na dotyk.
Ruka šmátralka.
Pozor, ať ji nechytne ruka zákona.
Šup z kapsy do kapsáře.
Věci, které budou někomu chybět, zmizí v mlýnici, jako voda v náhoně.
Náhodně.
Víla dobrodružka je smění na groše.
Za groš kudlu na obranu?
Kolik grošů potřebuje grošák?
Kopyta tančí po oblázcích a řekou teče stříbro.
Mince z něj se mu lesknou na srsti ve světle měsíce.
Louč plaší stříbro a přináší zlato.
Kočičí.
Kočičí oči se smějí ze tmy.

Johanka měla v Sázavě pořád napilno. Zraněných bylo hodně a skoro jich neubývalo. Navíc musela odrážet dotěrné návrhy místního krkouna správce.
"Kdo jsi? Co tu chceš?" obořil se poněkud neomaleně na neznámou řádovou sestru, kterou potkal u nemocných místo Johanky.
"Jsem ze sesterského kláštera, přišla jsem na pouť milosrdenství," odpověděla mu zamaskovaná Tereza sladce. "Sázava je vyhlášená po celé české zemi... bohatá, ale nikdy neodmítne pomoc potřebnému. I v Praze se o ní káže. Vlastně jsem doufala, že potkám vyhlášeného správce Sebastiana von Berga..."
Jak se dalo očekávat, nadmul se pýchou jako kohout.
Johanka dostala potřebné zásoby ještě týž den.

O pár týdnů později Jan Ptáček už skoro začal věřit, že se mu to noční setkání jen zdálo. Jeho pátrání moc nepomohlo, že mezitím byl nedobrovolně upoután na lůžko po srážce s několika zběhlými Kumány.
Rozhodl se zvednout si náladu návštěvou krčmy... a chvíli poté, co se posadil uvnitř, uslyšel venku známý hlas.
Zvedl se, aby Jindřicha pozval ke svému stolu a strnul v úžasu.
Jeho noční zjevení dělalo na jeho nového přítele oči přes misku guláše a korbel piva.
Když Jindřich kvůli ní upravil vizáž dotěrnému štamgastovi, Jan usoudil, že bude lepší se ho na ni zeptat až později.

"Dál se mnou chodit nemusíte," usmála se na něj u brány. "I tak se pravděpodobně dostanu do řečí."
"Myslel jsem, že zůstáváš někde tady," mavnul rukou k utečeneckému ležení před Pirkštejnem. "Ale klidně tě doprovodím až za hradby, jen abych věděl, kde tě pak zase najdu."
"V tom případě si mě ale budete muset chytit," řekla a rozběhla se ven z brány a z kopce.
Pan Ptáček se pokusil ji následovat,ale po několika krocích se mu zamotaly nohy a on se zcela nešlechticky rozplácl na zemi.
Otočil se na záda a zahleděl se na hvězdné nebe.
"To je ženská."

"Zuzana? Ne, moc obyčejné... třeba... Sofie. Nebo Eufrozína?"
"Moje matka byla prostá žena - a rozhodně ne pomatená," zavrtěla hlavou a zamrkala. "Moje práce je hotova. Snad se potkáme později, až budete mít lepší nápady."
"Jen tak se mě nezbavíš," seskočil ze stolu, už podstatně jistější. Lektvar zabral.
"Doprovodím tě. Chodit po večerce po městě je... nemoudré. Na mě si stráže netroufnou. A na matku mých budoucích dětí..."
"Ještě jsem neřekla ano."
"Ale ani ne... a já jsem optimista."
"Tak, abych vás nemátla - pokud si mě nemíníte vzít, odpověď je 'NE'. Vychovávat dítě, jakkoli urozeného původu, sama..."
"Děti ale nejsou podmínka."

"Obávám se, že na mě není nic zajímavého, urozený pane," Tereza se otočila ke kotlíku a dolila víno, které se mezitím stihlo vyvařit.
"Uprostřed noci v alchymistické laboratoři... v mém městě, aniž bych tě tu někdy předtím viděl? Dovoluji si s tvým tvr-tvrzením nesouhlasit. Kde ses tu vzala?"
"Jako všichni ostatní - ze Skalice."
"Je pravda, že jsem se po těch rohožích a přístřešcích moc nerozhlížel. Schovává se tam víc takových, jako ty?"
Rozhodla se mlčet a pokračovat v práci.
"Ne, druhou takovou bych asi hledal marně," vzdychl pan Ptáček. "Prozradíš mi aspoň svoje jméno?"
Slila lektvar do flakonu.
"Hádejte, pane."

Nechala se přitáhnout a vší silou mu dupla na nohu. Pak přidala dobře mířenou facku. Dalším rychlým pohybem se vysmýkla ze sevření a odskočila mimo dosah.
"Ty... tys mě udeřila!?" s rukou na červené tváři zněl spíš zmateně, než pobouřeně.
"Jak jsem říkala, mám tu jenom lektvar proti bolehlavu," zopakovala klidně, jako by se nic předtím nestalo. Znovu mu podala lahvičku.
Tentokrát ji vzal, stále poněkud omráčeně.
Vypil ji a k Terezině překvapení se rozesmál.
"Stačilo říct ne, koči-nářko, nejsem bestie. Neužívám si, když se ženské perou."
Sedl si na přípravný stůl.
"Budu se s tebou muset trochu líp seznámit."

Když mu Pešek ten úkol zadával, ani jeden z nich neměl ponětí, že Tereza poslouchá.
Protože něčím podobným prošla před pár týdny, hned věděla, která bije.
Ovšem pokusit se okrást zrovna Hermanna, to Jindrovi tedy nezáviděla.
Ostatně, vykopávat mrtvolu z hrobu na šibeničním vrchu taky nebyla zrovna příjemná představa.
Když se tam večer vypravil, zdaleka nebyl připravený na to, co najde.
Na šibenici visela dvě těla.
Ptáci jim ještě nevyklovali oči, a tak měl Jindra celou dobu nepříjemný pocit, že jej sledují.
Ve skutečnosti nad ním však bděl jenom pár hnědých očí, které se za něj cítily tak trochu zodpovědné...