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With a smile, he pushed the door with his foot, since in one hand he had a bag, and in the other – Dinah’s palm. And when did he manage to take her hand?
– We came. The building is divided into buildings by faculties. This is the wing of the Firemen.
– Elder! Where is the elder? – Peter put Dinah’s bag down and walked over to three boys a little older than me.
So, it’s cozy. A large room with high ceiling, all walls are lined with shelves of books. In the middle there is a wide sofa with dints from the very places on which they sit. And the same three armchairs. But it was obviously comfortable to sit in them, an example of which was the guy who ran onto one of the above-mentioned interior items. Dinah smiled. She seems to like this place. Dimmed shades of orange and yellow created a warm atmosphere. There were two doors to the right and left of us. Probably in the female and male halves, judging by the faces painted on these doors: one with long eyelashes and a fiery mane, the other – with a smile all over her face and thick black eyebrows. On the opposite wall from us there were a pair of windows with external wrought iron railings. Several pillows lay on wide wooden window-sills, on which there were magicians with a pile of books. They were deep into reading, not noticing anyone or anything. Even the guy who rushed under their noses. He yelled so loud that the deaf man would have turned around. But not these two girls. What a moderation!
– Aaah! H-help! W-water! – the magician really needed help.
His dark red shock was smoking. The smell of burnt hair hit the noses. Dinah widened her eyes, looked around and, without thinking twice, grabbed the nearest vase of flowers. And when the magician was running by in search of salvation, she splashed water on him.
Peter and the boys he spoke to froze, scanning the mute scene.
The red-haired guy with flowers on his head and shoulders, with wet hair, but now safe, gave Dinah a puppy look.
– Th-tha… – he began.
– Thanks? – helped Dinah.
The guy shook his head. There was a dark spot of burnt hair on the crown of his head.
– S-saver! – squeezed out the magician.
Dinah put down the empty vase, and I helped to clean up the fallen flowers from the guy. Inis jumped on my shoulder. The soaked magician froze, peering at my phoenix.
– Wow, he h-has eyes of different c-color – the guy perked up.
– Patrick! – Peter called. – And I’m looking for you. Are you learning new spells again? I see, as usual.
– It’s okay, they will fix everything in the h-hospital – the red-haired guy smiled at us and held out his hand. – I’m the elder of the Firemen this year. My n-name is Patrick.
– Just Patrick? – clarified Dinah.
– Aha! No one here call you for your family name, except the magisters. What’s your name?
– I’m Dinara, Dinah for friends,
– I’m Nicholas.
– Nice to meet you. D-do not pay attention to my speech. I stutter sometimes. Since I was a kid. Healers say congenital defect cannot be healed.
– And I’m not a magician. This also cannot be healed – I chuckled, but now it sounded not offensively, but even funnily.
– At all? – Patrick was taken aback.
– At all? – I laughed.
Dinah nodded in confirmation.
– He will study at the faculty of Mentalistics. Patrick, I hand Dinara to you. Introduce her to curator Rita.
The elder winked and took Dinah’s weighty bag. The friend looked sadly at Peter, then at me, squared her shoulders and asked:
– See you later?
– Yes. You settle in and I’ll take Nicholas to the Mentalists’ wing.
We went out and headed towards the hall. Peter was laconic, reserved, looked very mature and intelligent. He was about seventeen or eighteen, but I could be wrong.
– Peter, how old are you?
The magician pursed his lips.
– And for what purpose are you interested? – he narrowed his eyes.
– Well, you look so serious and focused.
– I’m eighteen.
– Like Dinah – I said thoughtfully.
– I have been studying at the academy for only three years. But sometimes I have to go to the palace.
– I didn’t know that Pontiar called students into service – I had to be honest.
– Well, I’m kind of special, even though I don’t like the term, – he saw the question on my face, exhaled and continued: – I am the fastest among the magicians of air. Formerly, I did it reflexively, but after a year of training, I began to control my speed. Even the court charioteers give me a dirty look. And Pontiar, as luck would have it, emphasizes my abilities.
– So, you need to rejoice! – I remarked incomprehensibly.
There were a lot of people in the lobby, judging by the bags, they were newcomers, Peter fell silent. We walked into a hallway that led along large arched windows. Behind them there was a garden, flower beds, among which the magids were scurrying. When no one else bothered our conversation, Peter gave me a tired look.
