THE CAR IN THE BARN HAD ALREADY RESUMED ITS FORMER APPEARANCE. But I didn't dare get into the driving seat and check how the diesel engine had survived its long ordeal at the hands of the Russian farm mechanics. I walked quietly through the house and listened¡ªmy mother-in-law was already asleep in her room, but there was the faint glow of a night-light in ours.
I opened the door and went in.
"Did everything go all right?" Svetlana asked. But the way she said it, it was hardly even a question. She could sense everything perfectly well without words.
"Pretty much," I said and nodded. I looked at Nadiushka's little bed¡ªour daughter was fast asleep. "I didn't find the werewolves. But I had a talk with the witch."
"Tell me about it," said Svetlana. She was sitting on the bed in just her nightdress, with a thick book lying beside her¡ª Moomintrolls. Either she'd been reading to Nadya, who would listen to anything as she was falling asleep as long as it was in her mom's voice¡ªeven a list of building materials. Or she'd decided to relax in bed herself with a good book.
I took my shoes off, got undressed, lay down beside her, and started telling her everything.
Svetlana frowned a few times. And she smiled a few times, too. But when I repeated the witch's words about my wife putting a spell on me, Svetlana was genuinely upset.
"I never did," she exclaimed in a feeble voice. "Ask Gesar... He can see any spell of mine... I never even thought about doing anything of the sort."
"I know," I reassured her. "The witch admitted it was a lie."
"Actually, I did think about it," Svetlana said suddenly, with a laugh. "You can't help thinking things... but it was just a silly idea, nothing serious. When Olga and I were talking about men... a long time ago..."
"Do you miss the Watch?" I couldn't help asking.
"Yes," Svetlana admitted. "But let's not talk about that... Well done, Anton. You got to the third level of the Twilight?"
I nodded.
"First-level magician..." Svetlana said uncertainly.
"No, I know my limits," I objected. "Second. Honest second-level. That's my ceiling. And let's not talk about that either, okay?"
"Okay, let's talk about the witch," Svetlana said with a smile. "So she went into hibernation? I've heard about that, but it's still very rare. You could write an article about it."
"Who for? A newspaper? Arguments and Facts? A witch has been discovered who slept for sixty years in the forest outside Moscow?"
"For the Night Watch information bulletin," Svetlana suggested. "Anyway, we really ought to put out our own newspaper. It would have to have a different text for people... anything you like. Something narrowly specialized. The Russian Aquarium Herald, say. "How to Breed Cyclids and Set Up an Aquarium with Flowing Water in Your Apartment.'"
"How come you know about things like that?" I asked in amazement, and then stopped short. I remembered that her first husband, who I'd never even seen, was a big aquarium fan.
"I just happened to remember," Svetlana said with a frown. "But any Other, even a pretty feeble one, has to be able to see the real text."
"I already made up the first headline," I said. "'For Progressive Magic.'"
We both smiled.
"Show me that artifact," Svetlana said.
I reach across to my clothes and took out the comb, wrapped in a handkerchief.
"I can't see any magic in it," I admitted.
Svetlana held the comb in her hands for a while.
"Well?" I asked. "What should we do? Throw it over one shoulder, then wait for a forest to spring up?"
"You're not supposed to see anything," said Svetlana, smiling. "And it's not a matter of Power¡ªthe witch was just laughing at you. Maybe even Gesar wouldn't see anything... it's not for men."
She raised the comb to her hair and began combing it smoothly and gently. And she said casually, "Just imagine... It's summer, hot, you're tired, you didn't sleep last night, you've been working all day... And then¡ªyou've just had a swim in cool water, someone's given you a massage, you've had a good meal and a glass of good wine. And now you're feeling just fine..."
"It improves the mood?" I guessed. "Counters fatigue?"
"Exclusively for women," Svetlana said, smiling. "It's old, at least 300 years old. It must have been a present from some powerful magician to a woman he loved. Perhaps even a human woman..."
She looked at me and her eyes were glowing. She said in a soft voice, "And it's supposed to make a woman attractive. Irresistible. Alluring. Does it work?"
I looked at her for a second¡ªand then glanced at the night-light and put it out.
Svetlana herself erected the magic canopy that deadens all sounds.
I woke up early in the morning, before five. But to my amazement, I felt perfectly fresh¡ªjust like some woman who owns a magic comb and has combed her hair to her heart's content. I was in the mood for great deeds. And for a good solid breakfast.
I didn't wake anyone¡ªjust rummaged about in the little kitchen, broke a couple of pieces off a long loaf of bread, and found a small plastic bag of sliced salami. I filled a large mug with homemade kvass¡ªand took all my booty outside.
It was light already, but the village was quiet and still. There was no one hurrying to the morning milking¡ªthe cowsheds had been standing empty for five years already. There was no one hurrying anywhere at all...
I sighed and sat down on the grass under the apple tree that had reverted to type and stopped bearing fruit a very, very long time ago. I ate a huge sandwich and drank the kvass. And to complete my comfort, I got the book about the book Fuaran out from the room¡ªby magic, through the window. I was hoping my mother-in-law was asleep and wouldn't notice the levitating volume...
As I ate my second sandwich, I became engrossed in reading.
And let me tell you, it was really interesting.
At the time when the book was written, they didn't have any of those clever little words like "genes" and "mutations" and other little bits of biological wisdom we try to use nowadays to explain the nature of the Others. And so the team of witches who worked on the book¡ªthere were five of them, but only their first names were given¡ªhad used terms like "affinity for sorcery" and "change of nature." And by the way, one of the authors listed was Arina, something the witch had modestly failed to mention the day before.
First the learned witches discussed at length the very nature of the Others. Their conclusion was that the "affinity for sorcery" existed inside every human. The level of this "affinity" was different for everyone. As a reference point one could take the natural level of magic dispersed throughout the world. If a person's "affinity" was more intense than the global level of magic, then he or she would be a perfectly ordinary human being! He or she wouldn't be able to enter the Twilight, and would only occasionally be able to feel anything strange, as a result of fluctuations in the natural level of magic. But if a person's "affinity" was less intense than that of the surrounding world, he or she would be able to make use of the Twilight.
It all sounded pretty strange. In my own mind, I'd always thought of Others as individuals with strongly developed magical abilities. But the point of view expressed here was the exact opposite of that.
In fact the following amusing comparison was used as an example: Say the temperature throughout the entire world is 97.7CF. Then most people, with a body temperature higher than that, will radiate heat outward and "warm nature." But the small number of people who for some reason have a body temperature lower than 97.7¡?will start taking in heat. And since they receive a constant influx of Power, they will be able to make use of it, while people with far warmer temperatures carry on aimlessly "heating nature."
An interesting theory. I'd read several other attempts to explain how we came to be different from ordinary people, but I'd never come across one like this. There was something almost offensive about it...
But then, what difference did it make? The result was still the same. There were people, and there were Others...
I carried on reading.
The second chapter was devoted to the differences between "magicians and enchantresses" and "witches and wizards." At that time, apparently, they didn't use the term "wizard" for Dark Magicians, but only for "witches of the male sex,"¡ªi.e., Others who are inclined to make use of artifacts. It was an interesting article, and I got the idea it had been written by Arina herself. Essentially it all came down to the fact that there was no real difference. An enchantress operated directly with the Twilight, pumping Power out of it to perform certain magical actions. A witch first created certain "charms" that accumulated Twilight Power and were capable of working independently for a long period of time. Enchantresses and magicians had the advantage of not needing any contrivances¡ªno staffs and rings, books or amulets. Witches and wizards had the advantage that, once they had created a successful artifact, they could use it to accumulate immense reserves of Power, which it would be very difficult to draw out of the Twilight instantaneously. The conclusion was obvious, and Arina expressed it in so many words: A rational magician would never despise artifacts, and an intelligent wizard would try to learn to work with the Twilight directly. In the author's opinion, "in a hundred years' time we shall see that even the very greatest and arrogant of magicians will not disdain the use of amulets, and even the most orthodox of witches will not regard it as detrimental to enter the Twilight."
Well, that prediction had come true to the very letter. Most of the staff in the Night Watch were magicians. But we made regular use of artifacts...
I went into the kitchen, made myself another couple of sandwiches and poured myself some kvass. I looked at the clock¡ª six in the morning. Dogs had begun barking somewhere, but the village still hadn't woken up.
The third chapter dealt with the numerous attempts made by Others to turn a human being into an Other (as a rule, Others had been motivated in their actions by love or greed) and attempts by human beings who had learned the truth in one way or another to become Others.
There was a detailed analysis of the story of Gilles de Rais, Joan of Arc's sword-bearer. Joan was a very weak Dark Other, "a witch of the seventh rank," which, by the way, did not prevent her from performing deeds that were, for the most part, noble. Joan's death was described in very vague terms¡ªthere was even a hint that she might have averted the inquisitors' eyes and escaped from her pyre. I decided that was pretty doubtful: Joan had violated the Treaty by using her magic to interfere in human affairs, so our Inquisition would have been keeping an eye on her execution too. There was no way you could avert their eyes... But the story of that poor devil Gilles de Rais was described in much greater detail. Either out of love or sheer scatterbrain foolishness, Joan told him all about the nature of the Others. And the young knight, so famous for his noble courage and chivalry, totally lost it. He decided that magical Power could be taken from ordinary people¡ªyoung, healthy people. All you had to do was torture them, become a cannibal, and appeal to the Dark Powers for help... In effect, the man decided to become a Dark Other. And he tortured several hundred women and children to death, for which (as well as the offense of not paying his taxes), he was eventually burned at the stake too.
It was clear from the text that even the witches didn't approve of that kind of behavior. And there were scathing attacks on the blabbermouth Joan and unflattering epithets applied to her gaga commander. But the conclusion was presented in dry, academic terms¡ªthere was no way to use the "affinity for sorcery" possessed by ordinary people to transform anyone into an Other. After all, an Other was distinguished not by an elevated level of this "affinity," like the bloodthirsty de Rais had foolishly thought, but by a lower level. And so all of his murderous experiments had only made him more and more human...
It sounded convincing. I scratched the back of my head. So... it turned out that I was far less gifted for magic than the alcoholic Uncle Kolya? And only thanks to that was I able to make use of the Twilight? Well, go figure that.
And Svetlana, it turned out, had an even lower level of "affinity?"
And theoretically Nadiushka had no gift for magic at all? And that was why the Power simply flooded into her the way it did¡ª here, take it and use it?
Oh, those witches¡ªthey were really smart!
The next chapter discussed whether it was possible to raise the level of Power in nature, so that a larger number of people would become Others. The conclusion was disappointing¡ªit wasn't possible. After all, Power was not only used by Others, who in principle could refrain from magical actions temporarily. Power was also gleefully consumed by blue moss, the only plant known to live at the first level of the Twilight. If there was more Power, the Twilight moss would grow more abundantly... And there might be other consumers of Power at the deeper levels of the Twilight... So the level of Power was a constant¡ªI laughed out loud at rinding that word in the archaic book.
All that was followed by the actual story of the book Fuaran. The title was derived from the name of an ancient Eastern witch who wanted desperately to turn her daughter into an Other. The witch experimented for a long time¡ªfirst she went down the same path as Gilles de Rais, then she realized her mistake and began trying to increase the level of Power in nature... In fact she followed every false trail, and eventually realized that she needed to "reduce her daughter's affinity for sorcery." According to the rumors, her attempts to do this were recorded in Fuaran. The situation was complicated by the fact that in those times the nature of the "affinity" was unknown¡ªbut then it wasn't known when the book I was reading was written either, and the situation still hadn't changed by my own time. Nonetheless, through a process of trial and error, the witch succeeded in turning her daughter into an Other.
Unfortunately for the witch, a great discovery like that attracted the interest of absolutely every Other. Back then there was no Treaty, no Watches, and no Inquisition... and so everyone who heard rumors of the miracle made a dash to get his hands on the formula. For a while Fuaran and her daughter managed to beat off the attacks¡ªapparently, the already mighty witch had not only turned her daughter into a powerful Other, but also increased her own level of Power. The aggrieved Others banded together into an army of magicians, with no division between Dark Ones and Light Ones, struck all together, and wiped out the family of witches in a terrible battle. In her final hour Fuaran fought desperately for her life¡ªshe even transformed her human servants into Others... but although they acquired Power, they were too disoriented and unskilled. Only one of the servants turned out to be smarter than the rest. He didn't try to pull the chestnuts out of the fire; he just grabbed the book and beat it. By the time the victorious magicians realized that the witch's "laboratory notes" had disappeared (essentially, that was all Fuaran was, laboratory notes), the fugitive's tracks were already cold. The fruitless search for the book went on for a long time. Occasionally someone would claim that he had met the fugitive servant, who had become a rather powerful Other¡ªthat he had seen the book and looked through it. Counterfeit books also appeared¡ª some of them were produced by crazy followers of the witch, some by Other swindlers. All the cases were thoroughly analyzed and documented in the book.
The final chapter contained a discussion of the theme "What did Fuaran invent?" The authors had no doubt that she really had succeeded, but they believed the book had been lost forever. The sad conclusion was that her discovery was so fortuitous and original that its essential nature was impossible to guess.
But what surprised me most of all was the brief conclusion: If the book Fuaran still existed, it was the duty of every Other to destroy it immediately "for reasons clear to everyone, despite the substantial temptation and motives of personal gain..."
Oh, those Dark Ones. How they clung to their great power.
I closed the book and started walking around the yard. I glanced into the barn again, and decided once again not to risk turning the car's engine on.
Fuaran and her book had existed. The witches had been certain of that. I had to allow for the possibility of a hoax, but in my head I didn't really believe this was one.
And so the theoretical possibility of transforming a human being into an Other did exist.
That made sense of what had happened at Assol. Gesar and Olga's son had been a human being¡ªas Others' children usually were. That was why the Great Ones hadn't been able to find him. But when they did find him, they'd turned him into an Other, then set up the whole show... they hadn't even been afraid to deceive the Inquisition.
I lay down in the hammock and took out my disk player, pressed the random selection switch, and closed my eyes. I felt like tuning out completely, filling my ears with something meaningless...
But I was unlucky. I got Picnic.
Oh no, this makes me want to laugh,
There is no window here, the door's corroded;
The Grand Inquisitor himself
Has come to torture me.
The Inquisitor squats down,
Picks up an instrument:
"Tell me everything you know,
And you'll feel better too."
I'm sure he wants to open me up
Like a simple suitcase, he knows one thing:
Even the very emptiest of the emptiest
Has a false bottom, a false bottom.
I don't like coincidences like that. Even the most ordinary people can influence reality¡ªthey're just not capable of directing their Power. Everybody's familiar with the feeling¡ªwhen buses turn up just as you need them or stubbornly refuse to appear; when the songs playing on the radio match up with your thoughts; when you get phone calls from people you were just thinking about... By the way, there is a very simple way of checking if you're getting close to the abilities of an Other. If for several days in a row when you happen to glance at the clock you see the figures 11:11¡ªit means your connection with the Twilight has become more intense. On days like that you shouldn't neglect your premonitions and intuitions...
But that's just small-scale human stuff. In Others the connection is just as unconscious as in people, but it's far more pronounced. And I really didn't like the fact that the song about the Grand Inquisitor had turned up at precisely that moment...
If I had had more strength
I would have told him: "Dear fellow,
I do not know who I am, where I am,
What forces rule this world;
And the labyrinths of long streets
Have snared by wandering feet...
The Inquisitor does not trust me,
He gives the screw a turn
I'm sure he wants to open me up
Like a simple suitcase, he knows one thing:
Even the very emptiest of the emptiest
Has a false bottom, a false bottom.
Aha. And I would have liked to know what forces rule this world too...
Someone patted me gently on the shoulder.
"I'm not asleep, Sveta..." I said. And opened my eyes.
The Inquisitor Edgar shook his head, smiling reticently. I read his lips: "Sorry, Anton, but I'm not Sveta." Despite the heat, Edgar was wearing a suit, a tie, and polished shoes without a single speck of dust on them. And in these city clothes he still didn't look ridiculous. That's Baltic blood for you.
"What the hell," I barked, tumbling out of the hammock. "Edgar?"
Edgar waited patiently. I pulled the button earphones out of my ears, caught my breath, and declared, "I'm on vacation. According to the rules, harassing an employee of the Night Watch while he is off duty..."
"Anton, I just dropped in to see you," said Edgar. "You don't mind, do you?"
I didn't feel any dislike for Edgar. He'd never be a Light One, but his move to the Inquisition had inspired me with respect. If Edgar wanted to have a word with me, I'd be happy to meet him anytime.
But not at the dacha where Sveta and Nadiushka were on vacation.
"Yes, I mind," I said sternly. "If you don't have an official warrant¡ªget off my land."
And I pointed with an impossibly absurd gesture to the crooked picket fence. My land... what a grand-sounding phrase.
Edgar sighed, and slowly reached for his inside pocket.
I knew what he would take out, but it was too late to start backpedaling now.
The warrant from the Moscow Office of the Inquisition said that "for purposes of an official investigation we hereby command the employee of the Moscow Night Watch, Anton Gorodetsky, Light Magician of the second rank, to afford every possible assistance to Inquisitor of the second rank Edgar." It was the first time I'd ever seen an actual warrant from the Inquisition, and so a few petty details stuck in my mind: The Inquisitors continued to define power in the old-style "ranks," they weren't ashamed to use a phrase like "hereby command," and they called each other only by their first names even in official documents.
Then I noticed the most important part, at the bottom. The seal of the Night Watch and a flourish in Gesar's handwriting: "I have been informed and consent."
How about that.
"What if I refuse?" I asked. "I don't much like it when I am 'hereby commanded.'"
Edgar frowned and peered at the document. "Our secretary's just turned three hundred. Don't take offense, Anton. It's nothing but archaic terminology. Like 'rank'," he said.
"And is doing without surnames another part of old tradition?" I asked. "I'm just curious."
Edgar glanced at the piece of paper, perplexed. He frowned again. Then he said irritably, beginning to draw out his vowels in the Baltic style, "Why-y that old hag... She forgot my surname and she was too proud to ask."
"Then I have good grounds for throwing this warrant on the compost heap." I looked around the plot of land for a compost heap, but didn't find one. "Or down the privy. The instruction doesn't have your surname on it, so it has no force, right?"
Edgar didn't answer.
"And what's in store for me if I refuse to cooperate?" I asked.
"Nothing too serious," Edgar said glumly. "Even if I bring a new warrant. A complaint to your immediate superior, punishment at his discretion..."
"So your intimidating document comes down to a request for help?"
"Yes," said Edgar and nodded.
I was relishing the situation. The terrible Inquisition that green novices used to frighten each other had turned out to be a toothless old hag.
"What's happened?" I asked. "I'm on vacation¡ªdo you realize that? With my wife and daughter. And my mother-in-law, too. I'm not working."
"But that didn't stop you going to see Arina," said Edgar, without batting an eyelid.
It served me right. Never, ever, let your guard down.
"That relates to my direct professional responsibilities," I retorted. "Protecting people and monitoring the activities of Dark Ones. Always and everywhere. By the way, how do you know about Arina?"
Now it was Edgar's turn to smile and take his time.
"Gesar informed us," he said eventually. "You called him yesterday and reported in, right? Since this is a nonstandard situation, Gesar felt it was his duty to warn the Inquisition. In token of our unfailingly friendly relations."
I didn't understand a thing.
If the witch was somehow mixed up in that business with Gesar's son... So she wasn't mixed up in it then?
"I have to give him a call," I said, walking away melodramatically toward the house. Edgar remained docilely beside the hammock. He actually squinted at a plastic chair, but decided it wasn't clean enough.
I waited with the cell phone pressed against my ear.
"Yes, what is it, Anton?"
"Edgar's come to see me..."
"Yes, yes, yes," Gesar said absentmindedly. "Yesterday, after your report, I decided I ought to inform the Inquisition about the witch. If you feel like it¡ªhelp him out. If you don't¡ªjust send him you know where. His warrant is drawn up incorrectly¡ªdid you notice?"
"Yes, I did," I said, glancing sideways in Edgar's direction. "Boss, what about those werewolves?"
"We're checking," Gesar replied after a brief hesitation. "A dead end so far."
"And something else, about that witch..." I glanced down at the "book about the book." "I requisitioned a rather amusing book from her... Fuaran¡ªfantasy or fact?"
"Yes, yes, I've read it," Gesar said amiably. "Now if you'd found the genuine Fuaran, then you'd have something. Is that all, Anton?"
"Yes," I said, and Gesar hung up.
Edgar was waiting patiently.
I walked up to him, paused theatrically for a moment and asked, "What is the purpose of your investigation? And what do you want from me?"
"You are going to cooperate, Anton?" Edgar exclaimed, genuinely delighted. "My investigation concerns the witch Arina, whom you discovered. I need you to show me how to get to her."
"And what business does the Inquisition have with the old bag of bones?" I enquired. "I don't see the slightest indication of any crime here. Not even from the Night Watch's point of view."
Edgar hesitated. He wanted to lie¡ªand at the same time, he realized that I could sense if he was lying. Our powers were more or less equal, and even his Inquisitor's gimmicks wouldn't necessarily work.
"We have some old leads on the witch," the Dark Magician admitted. "On file from back in the '30s. The Inquisition has a number of questions for her..."
I nodded. I'd been bothered from the beginning by her story about being persecuted by the malicious security police. All sorts of things happened back then. The peasants could have kicked up a racket to try to get even with a witch. But they could only have tried. A trick like that might work with a lower-level Other, but not with a witch of such great power...
"Okay, we'll go see her," I agreed. "How would you like some breakfast, Edgar?"
"I wouldn't say no." The Dark Magician said frankly. "Er... won't your wife object?"
"Let's ask her," I said.
It was an interesting breakfast. The Inquisitor felt out of place and he tried awkwardly to crack jokes, as well as pay compliments to Svetlana and Ludmila Ivanovna, talk baby-talk to Nadiushka and praise the simple omelette.
Clever little Nadiushka took a close look at "Uncle Edgar," shook her head and said, "You're different."
After that she never left her mother's side.
Svetlana found Edgar's visit amusing. She asked him some innocent questions, recalled the "story of the Mirror" and in general behaved as if she was entertaining a colleague from work and a good comrade.
But Ludmila Ivanovna was absolutely delighted with Edgar. She liked the way he dressed and spoke¡ªeven the way he held his fork in his left hand and his knife in his right hand made my mother-in-law ecstatic. Anyone would have thought the rest of us were eating with our hands... And the fact that Edgar firmly refused "a little glass for the appetite" provoked a reproachful glance in my direction, as if I were in the habit of gulping down a couple of glasses of vodka every morning.
And so Edgar and I set out on our way feeling well-fed, but slightly irritated. I was irritated by my mother-in-law's ecstatic raptures, and he seemed to be irritated by her attention.
"Can you tell me what the charges against the witch are?" I asked as we approached the edge the forest.
"Well, after all, I suppose we did drink to Briiderschaft," Edgar reminded me. "Why don't we start talking to each other less formally again? Or is my new job..."
"It's no worse than your job in the Day Watch," I chuckled. "Okay, at ease."
Edgar was satisfied with that and he didn't drag things out any longer.
"Arina is a powerful and respected witch... in the witches' own narrow circles. You know how it is, Anton, every group has its own hierarchy. Gesar can mock Witezslav as much as he likes, but as far as vampires are concerned¡ªhe's the most powerful there is. Arina occupies a similar sort of position among the witches. An extremely high one."
I nodded. My new acquaintance was no simple witch, no doubt about that...
"The Day Watch asked her to work for them more than once," Edgar continued. "Just as insistently as your side fought for Svetlana... please don't take offense, Anton."
I was not offended in the slightest...
"The witch refused point-blank. Well okay, that's her right. Especially since in certain situations she did collaborate on a temporary basis. But early last century, soon after the socialist revolution, a certain unpleasant event took place..."
He paused uncertainly. We entered the forest. I set off with rather ostentatious confidence, and Edgar followed. Looking absurd in his city suit, the Dark Magician clambered fearlessly through the bushes and the gullies. He didn't even loosen his tie...
"At the time the Night Watch and the Day Watch were fighting for the right to conduct a social experiment," Edgar told me. "Communism, as you know, was invented by the Light Ones..."
"And subverted by the Dark Ones," I couldn't resist remarking.
"Oh, come on, Anton," Edgar said resentfully. "We didn't subvert anything. People chose for themselves what kind of society to build. Anyway, Arina was asked to collaborate. She agreed to carry out... a certain mission. The interests of the Dark Ones and the Light Ones were involved, and even the witch's. Both sides were in agreement with the... mission. They were both counting on winning out in the end. The Inquisition was keeping an eye on things, but there was no reason to intervene. It was all happening with the agreement of both Watches..."
This was interesting news. What kind of mission could it have been, if it was approved equally by the Dark Ones and the Light Ones?
"Arina carried out her mission brilliantly," Edgar continued. "She was even awarded special privileges from the Watches... If I'm not mistaken, the Light Ones granted her the right to use second-level magic.
This was serious stuff. I nodded and took note of the information.
"But after a while the Inquisition began having doubts about the legality of Arina's actions," Edgar said dryly. "The suspicion arose that in the course of her work she had fallen under the influence of one of the sides and acted in its interests."
"And that side was?"
"The Light Ones," Edgar said somberly. "A witch, helping the Light ones¡ªincredible isn't it? That's why it took a long time before they got around to suspecting her, but the circumstantial evidence of treachery was just too strong... The Inquisition summoned Arina for an interview. And then she just disappeared. The search for her went on for some time, but in those times¡ªyou know the way things were..."
"But what was it she did?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.
But Edgar sighed and said, "Intervened in the minds of human beings... Total remoralization."
I gulped. What interest could Dark Ones have in that?
"Surprised?" Edgar growled. "Do you have a clear idea of what remoralization is?"
"I've even carried it out. On myself."
Edgar gaped at me, dumbstruck, for a few seconds and then nodded.
"Ah... yes, of course," he said. "Then you don't need too much explanation. Remoralization is a relative process, not an absolute one. Whatever you might say, there is no absolute standard of morality in the world. And so remoralization makes a person act absolutely ethically, but only within the limits of his own basic morality. To put it crudely, a cannibal in the jungle who doesn't think eating his enemy is a crime will calmly continue with his dinner. But he won't do anything that his morality forbids."
"I'm aware of that," I said.
"Well then, this remoralization wasn't entirely relative. The communist ideology was implanted in people's minds... you've probably heard about many of them, but the names aren't important for purposes of the case."
"The moral code of the builder of communism," I said with a wry laugh.
"That hadn't been invented yet," Edgar replied very seriously. "But let's say, something very similar. And these people started to behave entirely in accordance with the idealized model of communist ethics."
"I can understand what the Night Watch's interest was in all this," I said. "The principles of communism are certainly attractive... But where did the Dark Ones' interest lie?"
"The Dark Ones wished to demonstrate that imposing a nonviable system of ethics would not produce anything good. That the victims of the experiment would either go insane, or be killed, or start acting contrary to their remoralization."
I nodded. What an experiment. Never mind those Nazi medics who mutilated people's bodies. It was souls that had gone under the knife here...
"Are you outraged by the Light Ones' behavior?" Edgar asked suggestively.
"No." I shook my head. "I'm sure they didn't wish those people any harm. And they hoped the experiment would lead to the building of a new, happy society."
"Were you ever a member of the Communist Party?" Edgar asked with a grin.
"I was only a Young Pioneer. Okay, I get the idea of the experiment. But why did they bring in a witch to do it?"
"In this case it was far more efficient to use witchcraft than magic," Edgar explained. "The experiment was aimed at thousands of people of every possible age and social group. Can you imagine the forces that magicians would have had to assemble? But a witch was able to do it all by using potions..."
"Did she put them in the water supply or what?"
"In bread. They got her a job in a bread-making plant." Edgar laughed. "She actually proposed a new, more efficient way of baking bread¡ªwith the addition of various herbs. And she even won a special bonus for it."
"I see. And what was Arina's interest in all this?"
Edgar snorted. He jumped nimbly over a fallen tree and looked into my eyes.
"Do you have to ask, Anton? Who wouldn't like to fool about with magic as powerful as that? And she even had permission from the Watches and the Inquisition."
"I suppose so..." I muttered. "So, there was an experiment... And the result?"
"As should have been expected," Edgar said, his eyes glinting ironically. "Some of them went insane, took to drink, or killed themselves. Some were repressed¡ªfor over-zealous devotion to their ideals. And some found ways to get around the remoralization."
"The Dark Ones were proven right?" I asked, so stunned that I stopped dead in my tracks. "But even so the Inquisition considers that the witch corrupted the spell¡ªacting on instructions from the Light Ones?"
Edgar nodded.
"That's raving lunacy," I said, walking on. "Absolute nonsense. The Dark Ones effectively proved their point. And you say the Light Ones were to blame."
"Not all the Light Ones," Edgar replied imperturbably. "One particular individual... maybe a small group. Why they did it, I don't know. But the Inquisition is dissatisfied. The objectivity of the experiment was compromised, the balance of power was undermined, some kind of very long-term, obscure plan was launched..."
"Aha," I said with a nod. "If there's planning involved, let's put it all on Gesar."
"I didn't mention any names," Edgar said quickly. "I don't know any. And allow me to remind you that at that time the highly respected Gesar was working in Central Asia, so it would be absurd to charge him with anything..."
He sighed¡ªmaybe he was remembering recent events at the Assol complex?
"But you want to uncover the truth?" I asked.
"Absolutely," Edgar said resolutely. "Thousands of people were forcibly turned to the Light¡ªthat is a crime against the Day Watch. All those people came to harm¡ªthat is a crime against the Night Watch. The social experiment authorized by the Inquisition was disrupted¡ªthat is a crime..."
"I get the idea," I interrupted. "I must say, I find this story extremely unpleasant too..."
"You'll help me to uncover the truth?" Edgar asked. And he smiled.
"Yes," I said, with no hesitation. "It's a crime."
Edgar reached out, and we shook hands.
"Do we have to tramp much farther?" the Inquisitor asked.
I looked around and was glad to recognize the familiar features of the clearing where I'd seen that incredible bed of mushrooms the day before.
Today, however, there wasn't a single mushroom left.
"We're almost there," I reassured the Dark Magician. "Let's just hope the lady of the house is home..."