"Laura Anne Gilman - Staying Dead" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gilman Laura Anne)

Wren's mouth twisted in frustration, making her look for a moment like a five-year-old given brussels
sprouts. "Okay, that part I haven't quite figured out yet. Translocation, probably."

Translocation of an inanimate or inert object wasn't a difficult spell for someone with any kind of mojo
and open channels, but the actual performance took a lot out of the caster. Especially if he wasn't present
on-site, preferably within eyesight of the object. That was impossible in this case, since the object to be
retrieved wasn't accessible without the breaking and entering of a kind that hadn't happened. So. A
distance grab of that magnitude would make the hire-price prohibitively expensive, and the cost would
increase the further the object was moved. Or it should, anyway. Even the best Talent had to eat and pay
the rent, and a Transloc like that would wipe you for anything else for a week. "Might have intended to
replace the stone with something else, to maintain volume consistencyтАФ" the hobgoblin of all
translocations "тАФbut the alarms going off must have wigged him."

"Alarms?" Sergei sounded a little alarmed himself. Wren reached out and sorted the pile of papers on her
desk with one finger. Blueprints of the Frants building, cut into twelve-by-twelve squares for easy
shuffling, covered with red inkтАФSergei's handwritingтАФand her pencil smudges. "Yeah, alarms. I could
feel the echoes when I went into the basement. Nice little mage-triggers. Someone is a smidge nervous
down there. I wonder if the perp knew about them before he went down, or if he was expecting a simple
grab-and-run, so to speak. And before you panic, no, I didn't set it off again. The parameters were set
way too high for little old me."

Actually, that was a lie. She had sensed the threads of magic and slipped under and between them. While
she wasn't ever going to be called to serve on the CouncilтАФeven assuming they lobotomized her long
enough for her to agree to sign onтАФthat was more a matter of attitude than Talent. Where she was
strong she was very strong, and distracting attention from herself, be it magical or physical, was as natural
as breathing to her. Her mentor had called it Disassociation, which was basically a fancy way of saying
that she could make peopleтАФor things, specifically things like an alarm systemтАФbelieve that she wasn't
there.
The problem, as far as anyone had been able to explain to her, was that for all her undeniable talent she
was just a little too dense, magically speaking. The current channeled fineтАФshe had the skill, no doubts
thereтАФbut it sometimes channeled in weird ways, denying her access to a lot of the major skills like
levitation and translocation. Pity, as they would have been damned useful in her career.

"You think maybe the thief meant to use it for blackmail? Or maybe ransom? Hey, got your protection
spell here, what do you want to give me for it?"

"Or possibly to open up the door just enough for a direct attack by someone else?" Sergei sounded like
he'd given this some serious thought while she was out doing the hard work.

"Maybe. I know, I know, not our problem. I'd prefer blackmail, though. Easier to find someone if they're
going to be so obliging as to send back a calling card." If she were a better conductorтАж ah, well.

On the plus side of that density, the risk of her wizzing outтАФlosing her mind to the magic flowтАФwas
probably lower than anyone else at her comparable Talent level. There were always going to be portions
of her brain the current couldn't get into.

"They also serve those who hum in choir," she muttered.

"What?"