– What are we standing there, who are we waiting for? Let's go in. You have a workshop on sublimation. You know where to get everything you need.
She leaned against the teacher's table, watching the lazy swarming of the students. They didn’t pay any attention to me: they joked, discussed yesterday’s party and tomorrow’s football match between alchemists and healers, wondering whether “this beast Norwood” would give a test or immediately start with the “lab”. Only Applestone glanced sideways and, for some reason, winked as he walked towards “Vault No. 4.” His flirtations are strange. I wonder to what extent Charlotte encouraged them?
The thought distracted me, and a sudden roar made me jump on the spot. I immediately saw the cause of the noise – a lanky disheveled man in a lopsided robe was sticking out in the middle of the laboratory, confusedly looking around the cauldron lying at his feet, fragments of something glass and scattered… what? fruit slices? It seems like I don't understand something!
The others reacted as if they saw this almost every day. Most didn't even turn in his direction.
– Obley! – exclaimed a red-haired girl not far from me. – I spilled water because of you!
– Be glad that today we don’t have anything poisonous! “The guy at the next table sighed and, with a wave of his brush, swept into a pile shards of glass, fruit, torn paper packaging and a dead spider that had come from somewhere. The next swing sent it all into the trash can that stood at the entrance near the sinks.
“But there are no more ready-made sets there,” muttered this bungler. – Ellie, can I work together with you again?
– Steve, again! – moaned the girl who occupied the table next to him – obviously the same Ellie. – Maybe you can at least sit further away, huh? I'll soon turn gray from your antics.
“Let him take the sublimation apparatus on the rack on the left, on the bottom shelf,” Charlotte told me. – And the basket of apples is in the refrigerator. There, in the closet.
Feeling like a stupid actor relying on a prompter, I voiced all this to Mr. Obley. Adding from myself:
– I hope you are able to complete this additional flight without incident? Enough for today. “You have,” she looked at her watch, “three minutes.” The rest, in their places.
“We have three more minutes,” Applestone cooed velvety almost right next to my ear. He walked past, clutching his cauldron tightly to his chest, brushed his shoulder, apologized with exaggerated politeness and asked: “How about we go to the beach together, Miss Blair?”
“Not until you stop staggering every step of the way, Mr. Applestone.” Or have you decided that Mr. Obley is not enough for all of us to provide the thrill? Go to your seat and get ready for class.
The lover of beaches and, apparently, boobs, was amazed. It seems I have behaved differently than Charlotte should have behaved again.
– Mr. Applestone, would you be so kind as to sit down and benefit our esteemed academy – at least slightly exercise your brain, and not what usually replaces it for you? – The insinuating voice with velvety intonations absolutely did not fit with the usual professorial “don’t loom.” But the effect on the students was no worse than a warning burst over their heads from something very rapid-fire and very deadly.
The glass slipped out of the red-haired girl's hands. Someone, it seems, decided to try laboratory apples on the tooth and was now coughing hysterically. Applestone turned pale and disappeared. The younger generation's nerves were clearly out of whack.
? Dougal Norwood walked quickly towards his desk, waving his hand as he went – and the objects on the students' tables moved in some order known to him.
– I see you had a successful summer. If I ever need to return my brain to its rudimentary state, I will know who to consult. Let me remind you once what a laboratory bench should look like before the experiment. You're not at the market, Miss Gray, and this is not an apple stand. A cauldron, Mr. Savage, is not a top hat, and unless you're going to put it on your head, it shouldn't be upside down. Miss Smith, your passion for books has no place here. Stash this impressive stack in your bag if you don't want to sublimate the paper.
Okay, infection! Watching the flow of polite malice when, for a change, it was not directed at you, turned out to be a fascinating experience. I was tempted to ask for a master class.
“Mr. Obley,” the professor stopped at the table and now looked at the unfortunate bungler, who had just come out of the storage room, like a boa constrictor at a rabbit. ? he froze on the threshold, gently pressing a glass structure made of a flask, a glass and some tubes to his chest – obviously, the same sublimation apparatus. A large red apple miraculously held onto the narrow neck of the flask.
– Good afternoon, Professor Norwood.
– You give me hope that there is still constancy in this world. Get off the floor and, please, bring this surrealist still life to the table intact.
I moved to the far corner of the class, again at Charlotte’s prompting. “We will have to monitor safety, there could be an explosion. From the professor's place it is difficult to control the entire laboratory, this edge is on you. I’ll help you today, then you’ll be on your own.”
"Explosion?!" – I can’t say that the prospect of explosions made me happy. Moreover, Mr. Obley, from whom one should expect trouble in the first place, was sitting much closer to me than to the professor. And very close was the place of Mr. Applestone, who was already quite openly looking sideways at my, Charlotte’s, tits.
“So,” the professor walked around the class, and the students froze, afraid, it seemed, even to breathe. He knows how to… hold an audience. In fear. Perhaps it's a shame for Charlotte to complain compared to this. – I believe that even in brains that were baked or dried out over the summer, the idea should have appeared to familiarize yourself with the topic of the lesson in advance. If you didn’t even have enough for this, I’m sorry, but I can’t help you. We don't have much time to spend repeating theory. Are there anyone in the class who did not receive credit for aggregate states? – the question struck so sharply that even I flinched.
“Y-yes,” squeaked the same Miss Gray, whose table at the beginning of the lesson really resembled a counter with apples.
– Retake the experience as soon as you pass. Now you can be free or be a spectator. The rest go to work. For those whose memory is too short, I remind you of the sequence of actions,” he turned to his table, on which the same design as the students had managed to appear. He moved his brush slightly noticeably and smoothly. – We're cutting it. – The apple flew into the air, spread out into even, neat slices, which fell into a glass of water. Another gesture, just as smooth, polished, and beautifuclass="underline" “Let’s freeze.” We place it in the container,” obeying the wave of his hand, apple slices in shiny ice armor flew into the flask one after another. – We're closing. We are creating a class “B” shield; those who have forgotten how to do this can be free until retaken. Then there is a vacuum under the shield. Mr. Obley, do you understand well? First the shield. Then vacuum. Under the shield, not outside.
“He’ll be fine,” Applestone muttered.
– Don’t forget to remove water vapor. The speed of the process depends on the invested force, the end of the experiment is determined intuitively. I hope it won’t be difficult for any of you to notice in time that your apples have turned into dried fruits.
“It sounds simple,” I thought, “for magicians. One, and frozen, two, and a vacuum. You can also store instant coffee at home for future use.”
“Naturally,” Charlotte confirmed, “coffee is made using the same technology.” You're not as stupid as most of them. Do not be distracted. Follow. Vacuum is dangerous.