Tanya Grotter And The Magic Double Bass

The moustaches of the academician of white magic trembled guiltily.

“Cursed malice! After I accidentally drank an infusion with harpy venom, in no way can I get rid of it. I’ve tried the liver of dragon, and half a glass of green spirit with a drop of basilisk bile in the morning and before bed – nothing helps!” he complained.

“Don’t apologize, I’m not offended. I simply don’t like it when they utter that name around me…” Medusa softened. “Better tell me this: did you really drag me here from Tibidox itself only to remove the spell of this utterly useless hatch, which pulls in keys and coins of passers-by? Only don’t be sly. We’ve already known each other for three thousand years…”

Sardanapal reproachfully looked at his companion and blew his nose into a gigantic star-covered hanky, which had suddenly appeared mysteriously in his hand. The stars on the hanky winked and formed themselves into whimsical constellations; moreover, the constellation Ara attempted with meteorites to get rid of the constellation Sagittarius.

“Medusa, you’re arguing like a sorceress. Put yourself in the place of a normal person. Keys aren’t trash. A person deprived of keys has a real chance of spending the night on a bench and catching a head cold… Like me, for example.”

“Your head cold is from your not putting on a scarf when we flew over the ocean… And the needs of moronoids disturb me very little. In their world, there are fully enchanted hatches, turnstiles gone hog wild, and cellars slamming shut by itself. Evil spirits don’t sit on their hands. We’ll hardly leave and they’ll again put a spell on this hatch. And we’ll not be able to do anything about it.”

Seeing that his companion was starting to get angry, Academician Sardanapal lightly blew on the hanky, and it melted in his palm, having changed into a dark-blue washcloth beforehand.

“Excuse me, Medusa. Recently I suspect that someone has also put a spell on my sense of humour. Not excluding that the Tadzhik genies put an evil eye on it, I forbade them to arrange dust storms… Mm… Did you see the man, who recently came out of the entrance?”

“I did. But how did you manage? I must say that you were underground!”

Sardanapal smiled mysteriously, “Oh, if I want to see something, a few metres of asphalt cannot hinder me. What do you think of him?”

“Extremely unpleasant character… Br-r… Even among moronoids you usually expect better.”

“Now, now, Medusa, don’t be so harsh. At least out of respect for the memory of Leopold Grotter.”

“LEOPOLD GROTTER? He knew him?” Medusa exclaimed dumbfounded.

Sardanapal nodded.

“More than that. He’s his relative. And even sufficiently close – in all the nephew of his grandmother’s second cousin. Of course, for moronoids this type is related only through Adam, but you and I know the formula of magic-kinship of Astrocactus the Paranoid!”

“He is a relative of Grotter! So this is why we…”

“Shh!” the academician suddenly brought a finger to his lips, ordering Medusa to keep quiet. Both his moustaches at once sprang up and pointed at the sewage hatch.

Nodding, Medusa noiselessly stole up to the hatch and, squatting down, abruptly pushed her hand through it. At the same second, a nasty screech was heard from the well.

“There it is! I got it! Hey, stop!” the instructor of studies of evil spirits shouted.

When the hand of Medusa again showed itself on the surface, her fingers firmly clutched the ear of a little lady with a bumpy violet nose and green hair. The feet of the hissing lady were very curious – flat and rather resembling flippers. The prisoner hissed, spat, clicked her triangular teeth, and attempted to kick Gorgonova first with the right flipper, then with the left, and then with both alternately.

“Killga for revenga! And tellgi someone to let gogi! Setgi upon bitingi! Fiegi on yougi! And fiegi on yougi!” she screamed furiously.

“How do you like that – a kikimora! Curious little example, sufficiently large…” Chernomorov commented, examining with interest the game caught by Medusa.

“Again an evil spirit!” Medusa winced with disgust. “Now and then I begin to doubt that She-Who-Is-No-More actually disappeared. That someone sent Lifeless Griffin, and now here is this fright… Hey, don’t you twitch!”

“A-a-a! She scarega! Scumgi let gogi! Gogi my own businessgi! You needgi ripgi megi pantgi! Fiegi on yougi!” the kikimora squealed, not giving up the attempts to kick Medusa with her flippers. It was necessary for Medusa to hold her at a distance with an outstretched arm, which was not simple since the kikimora was sufficiently well fed.

“Stop wailing! Who sent you? Speak!” Medusa demanded severely.

“No saygi nothingi! Stupidga witchga! Now peckgu you throughgu! Playgu in your coffingu!” the kikimora squealed angrily, trying to accompany her words with aimed spittle.

Gorgonova gave the kikimora a quick glance with her penetrating eyes.

“Try!” she said threateningly.

“You veryga need mega!” the sly kikimora instantly changed her mind and mournfully started to whisper that she was an unlucky orphan and that everyone could insult her, an orphan.

“Aha, you insult yourself, orphan!” Sardanapal hummed and hawed. The academician pretended that he wanted to bring a finger to the mouth of the kikimora, and her sharp triangular teeth clicked right away, exactly like a trap. If Sardanapal did not jerk back his hand, he would have one finger less.

“She’ll not tell anything. I know this kind. And it’s clear that she didn’t roam here going about her own business. Maybe we’ll preserve her in alcohol for the museum so that no one would make a slip of the tongue?” the instructor of studies of evil spirits proposed, energetically shaking the kikimora by the ear.

“A-a-a-a-a! Don’t wantga be in alcoholga! Will keepga quietga! Will be the quietest hushga!” the kikimora began to bawl shrilly.

“Not worth it, Medusa. It’s completely not necessary to put her in a jar. I’ll make it so that she’ll forget everything.” With a dexterity difficult to expect from a clumsy phlegmatic person with a round belly, Sardanapal seized the kikimora by a flipper and, blowing into her ear, uttered in an undertone, “Scleroticus marasmoticus! Fillissimo moronissimo!”

After this, he cold-bloodedly unclenched his fingers, dropping the spy onto the grass. For a while, the green lady crazily shook her head, clearly in great confusion. She looked at Sardanapal and Medusa dully and without curiosity. Making several staggering steps on the lawn, the kikimora gathered her senses slightly, snorted contemptuously and, having reached the hatch in a waddle, jumped in there like a toy soldier. From the hatch a small fountain of water splashed out, several bad words were heard, and everything quieted down.

“She swam away,” said Sardanapal, indicating the direction with his green moustache.

“All these evil spirits are terribly boring. It’s about time to put a spell on them so that they wouldn’t butt in on the moronoids. One day they’ll upset the balance of power and then it’ll be bad for us all.” Medusa anxiously clicked her tongue.

Sardanapal dismissed it lightly, “Nonsense, Medusa. You exaggerate, as always. The evil spirits are a confused force, sprung from chaos and partially preserved from the times of paganism. Yes, there are many evil spirits, dozens of times more than us magicians – white and black, but they were never in a state of agreement among themselves. How often I remember, the evil spirits were always defying bans, playing dirty tricks on the moronoids, and upsetting the balance. But as long as the Hair of The Ancient One is whole and the Gates are standing, our world is in danger from nothing. Even from the direction of the black magicians, whom we’ll in no way smoke out of Tibidox.”

“And what about She-Who-Is-No-More?”

“I agree, she was unique, who knew how to organize the evil spirits and to set them on us. Moreover, she almost managed to force us magicians to hand over our positions to her. If not for Leopold Grotter and his newborn daughter…”

“Not only Grotter. You never feared her, Professor! Even when she was in power!”

Sardanapal bashfully turned pink, “Oh, certainly! I’m always ready to utter in everybody’s hearing her true name – Plague-del-Cake! You see? Plague-del-Cake! And nothing terrible happens!”

The loud voice of the academician did not yet have time to stand still in the shifting labyrinth of high-rises when the glass of the terrace on the third floor spurted out splinters and a gleaming iron, whipping with the cord, flew out from there. Cutting the air with a whistle, it rushed along precisely to Sardanapal’s head. Picking up the hems of his robe, the academician quickly jumped aside and muttered something. In that same moment the iron turned into vapour.

“Did you see that? She-Who-Is-No-More wanted to kill you!” Medusa exclaimed fearfully.

“Nonsense. There is already no Auntie Plague… Simply one of the old spells snapping into action. She scattered thousands of them everywhere.” Sardanapal smiled and stepped on the escaped plug trying to coil around his leg with its cord.

Medusa flinched from loathing. In her thin hand by some mysterious means appeared a lorgnette, with which she examine parts of the destroyed iron.

“What an abomination! The next nasty invention of the moronoids… We’re leaving! There’s nothing more for us to do here.”

Chernomorov shook his head, “And here’s where you’re mistaken. The time has come to carry out the most unpleasant and difficult part of our mission. I started to talk about this but we were interrupted. We must… however painful this is for us… leave Tanya to the man whom you just saw.”

Medusa Gorgonova recoiled. Her copper-red hair, even without being tousled, rose suddenly on end and started to hiss. A casual person not knowing what Medusa was connected with long ago in her past would swear that he just saw a ball of entwined snakes.

“WHAT?! Did I hear right? You want to give the daughter of Leopold Grotter to this pitiful moronoid? The girl who, in some unknown manner, survived a struggle with She-Who-Is-No-More? The girl, after a meeting with whom She-Who-Is-No-More vanished?”

Detecting the angry notes in Medusa’s voice, the academician hurriedly turned away in order not to look her in the eyes by accident. To remove ancient magic is possible, but it has side effects.