Nick Perumov - Molly Blackwater. Steel, steam and magic. Steel, steam and magic Steel steam magic perums

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Dedicated to the remarkably fluffy white and fawn cat Cleopatra, or simply Klepa, the most intelligent and brave cat Dee in this book ...

Synopsis, or
What was before? 1
Official page of the author Vkontakte: http://vk.com/nickperumov. The official group of the author Vkontakte: http://vk.com/perumov.club.

As a result of a monstrous Cataclysm that mixed countries, continents, worlds and times, good old England turned from an island into a peninsula and instead of Scotland was connected with ... something very similar to the Russian Plain.

The era of steam reigns in the world, and the Briatannian Empire rules in this world, owning numerous colonies in the southern seas. At its heart is the old Kingdom, England itself.

But beyond the northern border of the Empire, beyond the ridge of Karn Dred, live strange and incomprehensible barbarians, who are called Rooskies in the Kingdom. Off the coast of the North Sea, at the mouth of the River Myor, lies the city of North York, and in it lives a girl named Molly Blackwater, daughter of the venerable Dr. John Kasper Blackwater.

The kingdom is in fear of an unknown "magic" that can manifest itself in any person. Magic at first gives its victim the power to fulfill petty desires (well, let's say that an annoying neighbor has a boil on his backside), and then turns him into a bloodthirsty monster, in order to then burn him in the fire of a terrible explosion, which will incinerate both the most unfortunate and everyone around him.

Therefore, there is a Special Department in the Kingdom, looking for such individuals, endowed with magical powers and making them safe for society.

By any means.

Molly Blackwater was an unusual girl. She loved to draw warships and armored trains that were at war with the barbarians. Her family was wealthy, Molly was an excellent student, and everything seemed to be going well, until Molly suspected that she herself had hidden magical abilities.

She saw in a dream how the armored train "Hercules" received heavy damage, and then she found out that he really was hit, and moreover, exactly as in her night vision.

Then Billy, the boy he knew who had delivered the news to Molly, nearly got caught stealing, and in saving him from the police, Molly did something that looked a lot like magic. Another time, in a very strange, almost inexplicable way, she saved a stray cat from under the wheels. The cat, by the way, turned out to be an excellent rat trap, so my mother even allowed Molly to leave Diana (as the girl called her find).

But by saving the cat, Molly caught the attention of the Special Department.

At that moment, a captive Rooskii boy helped her escape, but the Department announced a hunt for Molly.

After Department officers arrived at the girl's home, she knew she had to run.

She was again helped by the same Rooskii boy named Vseslav. Molly decided to become a cabin boy on an armored train (of course, under a false name). Vseslav, who apparently managed to escape from captivity, led Molly through sewer tunnels to the very hangars.

Molly did manage to get into the cabin boy on the Hercules. The case was decided by the fact that the chief boatswain Barbara Wallace and Commodore Reginald Cartwright saw traces of severe beatings on her back. Molly herself did not see them and did not understand where they came from.

"Hercules" advanced to support the troops advancing on the "barbarians". Molly learned about the mysterious gray bear, which, according to the assurances of the soldiers, is endowed with truly magical properties.

During a fierce battle, Molly managed to injure a she-bear, which neither bullets nor shells had taken before. However, the Hercules was badly damaged, and Molly herself was kidnapped by two animals, a wolf and a bear.

It turned out, however, that these were not animals, but brother and sister, the same Vseslav, who could turn into a bear, and Tansha, a werewolf, or, as she called herself, a "werewolf."

They took Molly to the house of the "barbarian" sorceress, Predslava the Lesser, who explained that the Rooskies were able to subjugate magic, a substance undoubtedly dangerous, but not invincible. Predslava explained that Molly also owns magic, like all people, in general, everything. And the "barbarians" will not let her go until she returns the "blood debt", until she does something very important for them.

Vseslav, Tansha and Molly went over the pass, to the lands of the Rooskies, to the middle sister of Predslava, who was to teach the girl. Along the way, the werewolves showed Molly a village that had been burned by the soldiers of the Kingdom.

At the pass, the three of them barely broke through the army cordons. Clinging to the back of the Vseslav bear, Molly heard screams in her address: “Witch! Kill the witch!"

However, they slipped through.

There, beyond the pass, Molly was handed over to the middle sister Predslava, a healer.

She told what the girl must do to return home.

It turned out that only she is suitable, “like a key to a castle”, to a very complex spell, which should calm the volcano that threatens to destroy all the lands of the “barbarians”. After that, Molly was promised an unhindered return to North York.

But for that, she had to first learn how to use magic...

Unfortunately, the lessons did not last long. The army of the Kingdom launched an offensive, and Molly, along with her mentor, was at the forefront.

In the battle with the broken armor of the Empire, Molly used magic to prevent the death of the hospital with wounded Rooskies warriors.

However, the magic that escaped to freedom was too strong, and the battle almost turned into death for Molly. The girl had to be sent to the eldest of the magical sisters, for only she could cope with the consequences.

“Lady Senior,” as Molly called the sorceress, lived in solitude, her house was surrounded by a palisade with the living heads of royal shooters and officers impaled on it, who had the imprudence to be in her way.

She began to teach the girl.

The teaching turned out to be difficult, Molly often flew in for any offense, but even here it turned out to be impossible to spend a lot of time on lessons. The volcano was awakened by the echo of Molly's magic, from the very blow she used to save the doomed "barbarian" hospital. All the Rooskies sorcerers, having left their business, gathered near the Black Mountain to cope with the raging underground fire.

During the ceremony, with great efforts, Molly managed to lock their forces into a chain. The volcano was pacified, but Lady Elder was seriously wounded while protecting her student from unknown "shadows", a new and incomprehensible enemy.

After that, Molly, together with Vseslav and Tansha, went to the front. She managed to stop the breakthrough of the armored forces of the Kingdom using magic, after which Her Majesty's army began to retreat back to the pass.

Considering her duty fulfilled, Molly Blackwater returned home - the same Vseslav and his sister saw her off to Nord-York.

However, Molly's home was ambushed by the Special Department.

The girl was captured.

Prologue
Werewolves in North York

Everything here is foreign and smells of someone else. Here the snow is dirty and turns into a sticky porridge mixed with burning porridge on the ground clad in stone. Here, thick pipes snake, branch, rise, emerging from under the feet with the skeletons of dead trees. Here, steam hisses hatefully, bursting from under the valves.

Iron and Steam rule here.

Here let down and eyes, and scent. Instincts that help out in the forest can be ruinous here.

The brother and sister froze at the edge of the forest, albeit a stranger, albeit under the authority of the Crown, but still a forest that did not forget whom it covered with its branches long before the subjects of Her Majesty settled here.

The wolf and the bear merged into the thick undergrowth. The skies were sown with late snow, winter did not even think of retiring; ahead of them, Nord-York shone with the pale fires of gas lamps, the sharp eyes of the werewolves made out a ring of steam engines on the very outskirts, where working people who had plowed a long shift were unloading from the cars.

They didn't leave. They didn’t leave and didn’t switch sides, silently hiding under the snow curtains, as if they were waiting for some kind of signal they knew alone.

The wolf froze motionless, crouching to the ground, the snow powdered the skin, turning the werewolf into invisible. If you walk two steps, you won't notice anything.

The bear, on the contrary, restlessly measured the clearing with a soft trot, now forward, then back. Every now and then he looked out through a gap in the undergrowth, to where the gloomy multi-storey masses of outlying houses darkened, looked around at the yellowing windows, where one by one the lights flared up.

Tansha looked at her brother, but was silent.

The werewolves were waiting.

And, although it was the bear who was staring all the time at the fields that separated the edge of the forest from the city outskirts, she was the first to jump on the paws of the Wolf.

Being late for just a moment, he froze, all getting up and as if preparing to throw, the Bear.

From the outlying houses of Nord-York, hardly noticeable in the approaching twilight among the falling snow, hurried, rushed, ran, not sparing a luxurious fluffy fur coat, a large white and fawn cat.

Tansha bared her teeth, growled muffledly, Volka's eyes flashed. The bear bent its head, an angry grunt escaped from its mouth.

The cat seemed to know exactly where to run. She did not slow down, she did not look around, she rushed swiftly and towards her only driven goal.

The werewolves met her at the very edge of the forest. The cat froze abruptly when she saw them, after a moment - just as sharply meowed. She twirled in place, as if urging her to follow her. She meowed again, long and sad, as if crying.

Tansha furiously clicked her teeth. The bear growled, swung its clawed paw - long scratches were left on the trunk of the nearest pine.

The cat once again spun in place, took a few steps to the edge of the forest. She stopped, turned around, looked back at the werewolves questioningly.

They, in turn, exchanged glances, and the Bear was the first to resolutely come out into the open.

To the outskirts of North York, they made their way almost crawling, through some ditches and ditches, until under the paws of a cat, a bear and a wolf, there was damp pavement.

Evening has already come into its own. The werewolves and the cat stopped at the back of a tall brick house, ugly and narrow-windowed, with a facade braided with steam pipes and iron braces of fire escapes. All three huddled in the darkest corner.

The cat, as if nothing had happened, got out into the middle of the yard. A few gray rats whistled from the garbage, but Dee paid no attention to the bare-tailed creatures. She looked around, meowed, as if giving good.

In the dark corner where the werewolves were hiding, a dense, impenetrable fog thickened for a moment. And then two people came out of it - a strong, tall teenage boy, shoulder width not inferior to an adult, and a slender tall girl with her hair carefully tucked under a hat.

They were wearing the usual clothes of the urban lower classes of North York. Long drape coats, boots and fur low shoes, the girl had a muff hanging around her neck, the boy hid his broad palms in his pockets.

Cat Dee looked them up and down critically, meowed approvingly.

Tansha briefly glanced at her brother, lightly touched him on the shoulder, and they both moved towards the ring of the steam engine. The cat immediately curled up in the Bear's bosom. There was plenty of room on his broad chest.

They were ignored. The working people had just passed, the last latecomers were unloading. The weary inhabitants of the North York suburbs hurried to get to their apartments, rooms and corners, turn the taps of the steam heaters in order to expel, at least for a while, the sticky and wet cold that seemed to penetrate right to the very core of the bones.

Prudently taken with him on the road, someone else's clothes, which the Bear had been carrying in his bags all this time, allowed them to dissolve in the damp city. The brother and sister never boarded the steamer. Yards and garbage alleys, moving from "street" to "road" and back, changing streets, they slowly deepened into the city, carefully imitating its inhabitants in everything. It helped a lot that in North York, the inhabitants covered the bottom of their faces with a mask or a scarf from the eternal burning of coal, so hardly anyone was able to recognize in them the inhabitants of the lands beyond Carn Dred.

Nevertheless, the farther they went from the outskirts, the more often patrol bobbies looked at them. Brother and sister are obviously poorly dressed, but they are heading to the rich, prosperous, noble areas of North York ... just look, one of the policemen could be vigilant.

And Vseslav finally decided not to risk it.

He squatted down beside the iron hatch, something tinkled briefly, and the heavy cover rolled to the side. The siblings slid noiselessly down the rusty, wobbly brackets, carefully closing the mouth of the sewer well behind them.

The stench hit her nose, causing Tansha to hiss and swear in an undertone. Vseslav remained silent, he quickly stepped forward, as if he knew exactly where they needed to go. The tunnel forked, others poured into it, fetid streams of sewage rushed to the unfortunate Myor, but the werewolves tried to pay no attention to anything. They walked silently and quickly, Diana sometimes stuck out her mustachioed muzzle from behind the Bear's bosom and immediately hid back.

Vseslav walked with the same confidence as on the day when he led Molly through underground corridors to the boathouse of the Hercules. Anyway, first.

Tansha frowned more and more with every step. Sometimes she stopped, sniffed completely like a wolf. Then she touched her brother's sleeve. Silently shook her head, pointing to a low and dark side passage.

The bear also froze, sucking in air with a noise. He shook his head and said something quietly and inquiringly in a hoarse, barely audible whisper.

Sister Vseslava shrugged her shoulders. Both of them stood near the archway, listening.

Tansha made a movement, as if about to do the same “elbow-palm-fingers”, but the Bear grabbed her by the forearm, they say, stop, where?

But little by little, it seems, what alarmed them was felt less and less. And finally it disappeared altogether, it remained somewhere there, behind the dark arches, like a sleeping animal that never woke up in a secret lair.

Tansha, stopping for the last time, shook her head slowly and reproachfully, as if wanting to say: “How are you like that?”

The bear shrugged slightly. Like, “it worked out, didn’t it?”.

Finally, after a long journey that took more than one hour, Vseslav and Tansha stopped. Before that, they had walked in total darkness, never once stumbling or even slowing down; and now stand up. A light was born in the boy's hand, warm and yellowish, like a dandelion flower in summer.

In black letters, the faded inscription on the cement read:

Pleasant street.

The werewolves froze. Dee leaned out again, purring.

Vseslav slowly moved along the outgoing side tunnel, where he already had to make his way, bending over in three deaths.

Tansha is behind him.

They got to the surface when night already ruled in Nord-York.

Spring should have long been supposed to set fire to the snow, to melt the snowdrifts accumulated over the long winter, but it seemed that blizzards and snowstorms decided to stay in the city this year until next autumn.

The rusted lid did not give in immediately, despite all the bearish strength. Brother and sister found themselves in a dead end, squeezed between dirty brick walls; steam whistled angrily and thinly over their heads, escaping from under a carelessly applied thin patch.

The werewolves turned out into the street.

Of course, here in Pleasant Street there were many more lanterns and they burned much brighter; despite the late evening, the windows of pubs and clubs shone, locomobiles moved slowly.

Vseslav and Tansha walked to house number 14, the sister held her brother by the arm. They were looking at them, they had to hurry.

... Near the house of the venerable Dr. John Kasper Blackwater, there were already four locomobiles with red-white-black sockets. The Special Department did not stint on people.

The windows of the house are brightly lit. The doors are wide open. Anxious people in uniform run back and forth, several bulldogs on leashes and in spiked collars muffledly bark.

Vseslav pulled his sister by the hand, they quickly crossed to the other side of the street. The dogs were alert, sniffing noisily, but their handlers were too keen on other things.

From the open doors one by one the Mollys were led out. A crying, uncomprehending brother. Pale as death, staggering governess Jessica, who kept trying to mutter something with naughty lips. Gloomy and gloomy, but looking directly and firmly, Fanny. Confused Dr. John Kasper, trying to speak to a haughty Department officer with three chevrons.

Molly's mother was dragged last. Mrs. Anna Nicole Blackwater staggered, two departmental officers held her on either side; one of her cheeks bore the scarlet imprint of someone else's hand - someone had slapped her across the face.

They were all unceremoniously stuffed into locomobiles, doors slamming shut with a clang. Smoke billowed from the chimneys, and the cars moved slowly, hissing and steaming. At the open, gutted house there was a guard - three policemen and a puffed-up, arrogant, like a turkey, department officer, who immediately began to issue one command after another to the frightened bobbies.

Vseslav and Tansha passed by, squinting like other onlookers, but without stopping.

There was a strange expression on Bear's face. He seemed to be petrified, staring straight ahead, but there was no doubt that he now sees much more than he might think.

Tansha was holding her brother's arm, briskly waving the other - a girl who went on a successful date. She carelessly turned her head and even whistled something.

What it cost her, the Elder would immediately say, if she had not been lying, all wounded, in her own house far beyond Karn Dred.

The couple passed the Bluewaters' house on their way up Pleasant Street. Vseslav obviously knew what to do and where to go; Tansha did not ask questions, she looked tenaciously and attentively around, and there was no doubt that Volka firmly remembered every turn, every alley, every dead end and every hatch along their way.

Pleasant Street ended, flowing into a spacious square with a cathedral and a stunted little garden in front of it. The evening grew thicker and thicker, there were fewer and fewer people on the streets, but there were more policemen. Soon a poorly dressed couple will be quite uncomfortable here.

But Vseslav did not wait for this. He suddenly turned off the square into a small alley - clean, quiet and tidy, with expensive solid townhouses on both sides, with a couple of coffee shops still open - and decisively knocked on one of the doors.

Three times. Pause. Twice. Pause. Three again.

Because of the tightly closed curtains, not a ray of light broke through, and for quite some time no one answered Vseslav's knock.

Tansha even frowned and glanced at the neighboring roof ... but then the door finally trembled, one lock clicked, then another, a bolt hissed in well-oiled hinges, and the sash swung open.

Cat Dee gently jumped off Vseslav's arms and instantly disappeared into the darkness.

Holding a dim candle in a fleshy, large, but trembling hand, on the threshold of the house stood a portly gentleman in a wrapped brocade robe that fitted an impressive belly; thick sideburns flowed down his puffy cheeks to his chin, and small eyes peered intently from under bushy eyebrows. The master's cheeks were red, his teeth yellow from tobacco. He was clearly alarmed, in lowered right hand the richly finished revolver quivered along the barrel.

“Mr. Pittwick,” Vseslav said in a low voice, looking straight into his eyes. – We… have to come.

- Come in, quick, quick! hissed the said Mr., hastily slamming the door behind them. What do you think, are you completely crazy? Do you even know what you're risking? If they had sent the message in the usual way, I would have come myself ...

Sweat trickled down his temples.

- Come in now!

He almost dragged his brother and sister inside.

“Mr. Pittwick, I'm sorry, but the circumstances left us no other choice,” Tansha sighed. “Don't worry, you are completely safe. No one followed us, I vouch for that.

“My safety is my safety, a gentleman takes risks and does not demand that he be safe in doing so,” Mr. Pittwick chuckled. – I have said many times – you yourself can be captured here! .. – He shook his head.

“We would… would like…” Tansha seemed to struggle to find words, “we would like to give you the potion. And ... and rewards for valuable information. We always keep our word.

“Hold on, hold on, I already know that,” muttered Mr. Pittwick. Even to your own detriment. The drug, I won’t hide it, it’s good, it’s very good ...

“Reward too, Mr. Pittwick.

- Phe! the owner waved it off. “I have enough guineas already, and your money, you know, goes to worthwhile causes. However, it doesn't matter anymore. Please, come in, come in! I, hehe, just let the servant go. Very, very successful. He placed the candlestick on a massive chest of drawers and rubbed his hairy hands. “Take off your horrible coats!” Miss Tansha, as I have seen, you are endowed with delicate taste, why do you choose such horror for your walks around Nord-York? In it, among other things, it is also unsafe to walk around our neighborhoods!

Tansha moved her thin shoulder with dignity.

“It was necessary, Mr. Pittwick.

“Well, if you need it, then you need it,” the fat man realized. - Come on, come on! Mr Vseslav? Pro-ho-dee-te!

The bear frowned, shook himself, throwing off his stupor.

Behind a rich hallway with dark carved bog oak panels on the walls, a living room opened with a cozy crackling fireplace. There were massive high chairs with striped upholstery; between the windows perched a sofa with a low coffee table; gas jets burned along the walls, giving a bright white light.

Generally speaking, no, you don't need to know about it, Mr. Pittwick. Not because we don't trust you, but because we care about your safety. But now is a special case. Maybe I'll tell you more. Nobody knows how things will turn out. But you're right, the Special Department has captured one person who is... very valuable to us. Don't be in a hurry to ask about him, Mr. Pittwick, too much knowledge is a dangerous thing these days.

My God, Miss Tansha, - the fat man threw up his hands, - you might think you left the best boarding house in the capital! You argue not at all like ... - He broke off.

Not like a barbarian? Wolf grinned.

That's not what I meant," the owner muttered, lowering his eyes.

It doesn't matter, Mr. Pittwick. It's enough if you listen and if you tell us where we can find who... who we're looking for. This is a very, very important prisoner for the Department. And you’d better go put more boiling water, your elixir must be thoroughly shaken and diluted in the right proportion ...

I understand, miss, and I'll deal with it right away. I'll go... most likely to the Cannon Club. Or in the Powder Keg. The fact is, Miss Tansha, that the head of the Department, which we, the gentlemen of Nord-York, know, is only the visible part of the iceberg. After all, I already had the honor to indicate in my messages that their invisible leadership is much more terrible and dangerous. It does not wear red-white-black rosettes, does not put on this stupid uniform, but rules everything. This, alas, is the limit of what I know, and further questions are connected ...

At unnecessary risk, Mr. Pittwick. We understand. You still haven't cleaned your guineas.

Guineas ... - the fat man grumbled displeasedly. “Enough about the guineas, Miss Tansha. Deal with them, they're not going anywhere. That's it, let's do it. You stay here. Upstairs in the office. There's a back room... well, you know. Have a rest. I'll deal with the servants. Wait a day or two. Tomorrow night I'm going to visit the Gun Club. I'll find out what I can. And I hope that tomorrow you will be able to ... start to act.

The smirk on Mr. Pittwick's reddish face did not promise anything good against those against whom these "actions" of Tansha and Vseslav were expected.

We accept your offer, Mr. Pittwick. And thank you for it.

Ah, nothing, Miss Tansha, - the owner of the house sighed. - I understand. You are saving one of your own who is extremely important to you. However, you would save even the unimportant - Rooskies do not abandon their own, as every officer of the Mountain Corps assures. I will try. I'll try as soon as I can. And the guineas ... I promise you, Miss Tansha, they will do a good deed, I will see to it.

Part one

Dungeons of Nord-York

Name! boomed the speaking tube in her ear so that Molly Blackwater winced involuntarily. - Name, witch!

Mollinair Evergreen Blackwater,” she said through another mouthpiece that had been pushed up to her lips.

There was nothing alive here, everything was set in motion by steam. And she, Molly, all alone, was chained to a hard spinning stool: neither turn around nor move her shoulders, and steel bracelets of handcuffs hurt her wrists. Around - the walls of an armored glass, somewhere high above your head - narrow loopholes. Blinding spotlights are shining, with a power almost like in a lighthouse. And, snorting with steam, like two metal snakes, the speaking pipes move back and forth. Why they need this continuous movement, Molly could not understand. After all, it is enough to adjust them once for each prisoner ...

Place of residence!

14 Pleasant Street, North York. She tiredly repeated unnecessary words to no one. Why do they ask this if they already know everything perfectly?

Occupation!

Mrs. Lindgrove's fifth grade private school student.

Name your parents!

Molly obeyed.

The closest relatives maternal line!.. Paternal relatives!.. Their place of residence!.. Occupation!..

Questions followed one after another.

Molly answered. Mechanical, expressionless voice. All this no longer mattered. The Special Department knew, of course, everything - both about her parents and about all her relatives, wherever she lived within the Kingdom - or Empire. They want something else from her, but what?

She did not know. And magic could not help, because it seemed that she was completely gone, she seemed to have died. Elbow-palm-fingers didn't work anymore. The warmth did not escape to the tips of the nails, and the fire did not escape from her hands, as if Molly suddenly became the most ordinary, most ordinary girl in all of North York.

Silence. They stopped asking her. With a hiss, both speaking tubes moved back. Molly sat staring straight ahead and tried not to think about anything. It's just about nothing, and that's it. Get it out of your head so there's nothing left. In order not to squeal with unbearable horror at the mere thought of what fate now awaits her. It's very easy to say, but try it!

She succeeded, however. And not that Molly somehow tried in a special way. No, she simply looked at the gray cement of the glass around her, at the iron brackets that went somewhere under the ceiling, towards the hatches. This turned out to be enough.

Miss Mollinair, - suddenly spoke a new voice, female. Strict, but ... calm. Something like the voice of Mrs. Chief Boatswain Barbara Wallace. - Miss Mollinair, you have a chance to change your destiny.

The voice sounded, but Molly did not even move. There was a void inside, huge, gaping. Molly couldn't imagine that such a thing could even happen. And she, this emptiness, occupied her now more than all and sundry voices.

The magic had always been with her, now she knew it. Always, always, only she did not notice how you do not notice the beating of the heart or breathing.

It always was, but now it's gone. She probably overstrained herself - there, on the field near Mstislavl, crushing the armored giants of the Kingdom ...

Miss Mollinair! the female voice repeated more insistently. - Can you hear me, miss?

I hear, - the girl barely moved her lips.

Great, - they were delighted at the other end of the speaking tube, again stuck to Molly's very ear. - Miss Mollinaire, you can change your destiny. You ask how?..

Of course, sincere repentance. Irritation was heard in the voice that was forced to speak again. - Sincere repentance and active assistance to the investigation ...

I don't have any magic," Molly said softly. She moved her stiff shoulders and repeated into a polished trumpet, already louder, more confident, angrier: - I don't have any magic! Let me go! I want to go home to mom and dad!..

No, she thought suddenly. - I don't want them. Or rather, not only to them. I want to him. To Vseslav and to the Wolf. And I also want to go to Madame Elder; let her whip me, let her whip me, put me on bread and water, if only everything was all right with her and she would teach me again ... "

Tears welled up. Hot and angry, harbingers of a fight, not impotent sobs.

We will, of course, let you go [Imperial English has a clearer division into "you" and "you" than in the one we know. As a polite "you" the Old English form "thou" is used, as a less formal, like ours, "you" - "you" is used. The woman interrogating Molly just switched from “thou” to “you.”] to mom and dad,” the female voice immediately promised, becoming noticeably softer and even more affectionate.

Lying, Molly thought angrily. They won't let me go anywhere. Never and never."

She herself did not know where this anger and rigidity came from in her. And more determination. She won't give up, she won't give in!

We will let you go, but you must also help us, - the invisible interlocutor exhorted.

I'm... ready... - squeezed out Molly. “But I don’t know how… and I don’t have any magic… you can check… you still won’t find anything…”

The speaking tube moved back. Muffled voices were heard in it, but Molly could no longer make out the words. Then above, overhead, something hissed and creaked; right in front of the girl, a familiar apparatus descended - one of those same cells in front of which the Special Department planted those tested for the presence of sorcerous abilities.

The lens stared haughtily straight into Molly's face. She looked up. Something told me that it was not worth making an angry grimace; Only tears would not hurt now, but, as luck would have it, they refused to roll down.

Something buzzed inside the chamber, a thin stream of steam escaped from the outlet pipe.

Molly imagined the grind, the gears moving, the miniature cylinders, pistons, spools and worm gears at work. How can a camera "see" magic? How does she measure it? And who invented this device? Could its creator - Molly suddenly tensed - could he himself be a magician? Could he sincerely work for the good of the Kingdom, or at least believe that he was working, or was he forced?

The camera crackled. Deep, deep behind the lenses sparkled some kind of lights.

All this lasted much longer than the usual check at school. The camera swam in, then swam away, drove in from the right, then from the left, and once even looked at the back of Molly's head.

Finally, inside the polished case of the device, something grunted, snorted, grunted, hissed again from above, and the camera was pulled up to the ceiling.

Molly Blackwater. Steel, steam and magic Nick Perumov

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Title: Molly Blackwater. Steel, steam and magic

About Molly Blackwater. Steel, steam and magic" Nick Perumov

Molly is endowed with the most dangerous gift of magic, forbidden in the Empire, and the bearers of this gift are being persecuted by the Special Department.

Will Molly be able to outplay them? After all, the only way she can save herself, her family and true friends.

The scene of the battle becomes native Nord-York - a city where luxury and poverty, military power and espionage intrigues, huge steam engines and a terrible fiery secret living in the dungeons coexist.

But what to do when a new danger looms over Molly's loved ones, and those who are higher than even the Special Department come out against the girl herself? Will Molly now be able to survive in her own world - in a world dominated by steel, steam ... and magic!

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Twelve-year-old Mollinair Blackwater returns home to the Empire from beyond the edge of her world - from the mysterious land of "barbarians" - the Rooskies, whom the Empire is slowly but surely pushing north. Molly is endowed with the most dangerous gift of magic, forbidden in the Empire, and the bearers of this gift are being persecuted by the Special Department. Will Molly be able to outplay them? After all, the only way she can save herself, her family and true friends. The scene of the battle becomes native Nord-York - a city where luxury and poverty, military power and espionage intrigues, huge steam engines and a terrible fiery secret living in the dungeons coexist. But what to do when a new danger looms over Molly's loved ones, and those who are higher than even the Special Department come out against the girl herself? Will Molly now be able to survive in her own world - in a world dominated by steel, steam ... and magic!

A series: The Adventures of Molly Blackwater

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by the LitRes company.

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