'What was it she did?' I asked, not really expecting an answer.
Edgar sighed and replied:
'Intervened in the minds of human beings . . . Total remoralisation.'
I gulped. What interest could Dark Ones have in that?
'Surprised?' Edgar growled. 'Do you have a clear idea of what remoralisation actually is?'
'I've carried one out. On myself.'
Edgar gaped at me, dumbstruck, for a few seconds and then nodded:
'Ah . . . yes, of course. Then you won't need much explanation. Remoralisation is a relative process, not an absolute one. Whatever you might say, there is no absolute standard of morality in the world. So remoralisation 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 remoralisation 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. These people started to behave entirely in accordance with the idealised model of communist ethics.'
'I can understand the interest of the Night Watch 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 remoralisation.'
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' behaviour?' Edgar asked suggestively.
'No.' I shook my head. 'I'm sure they didn't mean to harm anyone. 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. Look, 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 needed to assemble? 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 – with 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 with irony. 'Some of them went insane, took to drink or killed themselves. Some were repressed – for over-zealous devotion to their ideals. And some found ways to get round the remoralisation.'
'The Dark Ones were proved right?' I asked, so stunned that I stopped dead in my tracks. 'But even so the Inquisition considers that the witch corrupted the spell, acting on instructions from the Light Ones?'
Edgar nodded.
'That's raving lunacy,' I said, walking on. 'Utter 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 long-term, obscure intrigue was launched . . .'
'Aha,' I said with a nod. 'If there's intriguing involved, let's put it all down to 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 – perhaps remembering recent events at the Assol complex?
'But you want to find out the truth?' I asked.
'Absolutely!' Edgar said. 'Thousands of people were forcibly turned to the Light – that is a crime against the Day Watch. All those people came to harm – that is a crime against the Night Watch. The social experiment authorised by the Inquisition was disrupted – that is a crime . . .'
'I get the idea,' I interrupted. 'I must say, I find this story extremely unsavoury.'
'You'll help me to uncover the truth?' Edgar asked. And he smiled.
'Yes,' I said, with no hesitation. 'It's a crime.'
We shook hands.
'Do we have to tramp much further?' the Inquisitor asked.
I looked round and was glad to recognise the familiar features of the clearing where I'd seen that amazing 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 at home . . .'
CHAPTER 5
ARINA WAS BREWING a potion – just as any self-respecting witch should – in her little house in the forest. Standing by the stove with the oven-fork in her hands, holding a cast-iron pot that was giving off clouds of greenish fumes. And muttering:
Spindle tree, white furze – a pinch,
Rocky cliff sand – quite a sprinkling
Heather branch and skeleton of finch
Pustule squeezings – just an inkling.
Edgar and I went in and stood by the door, but the witch didn't seem to notice us. She carried on standing with her back to us, shaking the pot and chanting:
More white furze and spindle tree,
Three tail feathers from an eagle . . .
Edgar cleared his throat and continued:
Kneecaps of a bumble bee,
And the collar off my beagle?
Arina started violently and exclaimed:
'Oh, good heavens above!'
It sounded perfectly natural . . . but somehow I knew for sure that the witch had been expecting us.
'Hello, Arina,' Edgar said without expression. 'Inquisition. Please stop working your spells.'
Arina deftly thrust the pot into the stove and only then turned round. This time she looked about forty – a sturdy, full-fleshed, beautiful countrywoman. And very annoyed. She put her hands on her hips and exclaimed peevishly:
'And hello to you, Mr Inquisitor! Why are you interfering with the spell? Am I supposed to catch the finches and pluck the eagle's feathers all over again?'
'Your ditties are no more than a way of remembering the amounts of the various ingredients and the right sequence of actions,' Edgar replied, unmoved. 'You'd already finished brewing the light footfall potion, my words could not possibly have interfered with it. Sit down, Arina. Why not take the weight off your feet?'
'How's that supposed to improve things?' Arina replied sullenly and walked across to the table. She sat down and wiped her hands on her apron with its pattern of daisies and cornflowers. Then she glanced sideways at me.
'Good morning, Arina,' I said. 'Edgar asked me to act as his guide. You don't mind, do you?'
'If I did mind, you'd have ended up in the swamp!' Arina answered in a slightly offended tone. 'Well, I'm listening, Mr Inqui
sitor Edgar. What business is it that brings you here?'
Edgar sat down facing Arina. He reached under the flap of his jacket and pulled out a leather folder. How had he managed to fit that under there?
'You were sent a summons, Arina,' the Inquisitor said in a soft voice. 'Did you receive it?'
The witch started thinking. Edgar opened his folder and showed her a narrow strip of yellow paper.
'1931!' the witch gasped. 'Oh, all those years ago . . .No, I never received it. I've already explained to the gentleman from the Night Watch that I went to sleep. The Secret Police were trying to frame me . . .'
'The Secret Police are not exactly the most terrible thing in the life of an Other,' said Edgar. 'Very far from it, in fact . . . So, you received the summons . . .'
'I didn't receive it,' Arina said quickly.
'You didn't receive it,' Edgar corrected himself. 'Well, let's accept that. The messenger never came back . . . I suppose anything could have happened to a civilian employee in the bleak Moscow forests.'
Arina said nothing.
I stood by the door, watching. I was curious. An Inquisitor's job is like any watchman's but there was something special about this situation. A Dark Magician interrogating a Dark Witch. And one who was far more powerful than him, a fact that Edgar couldn't fail to appreciate.
But he had the Inquisition standing behind him. And when you're faced with that, you can't count on any help from your 'own' Watch.
'Let us consider that you have now received the summons,' Edgar went on. 'I have been instructed to conduct a preliminary interview with you before any final decisions are taken . . . so . . .'
He took out another piece of paper, glanced at it and asked:
'In the month of March, 1931, were you working at the First Moscow Bread Combine?'
'I was,' Arina said, and nodded.
'For what purpose?'
Arina looked at me.
'He has been informed,' said Edgar. 'Answer the question.'
'I was approached by the leaders of the Night Watch and the Day Watch of Moscow,' Arina said with a sigh. 'The Others wished to know how people would behave if they tried to live in strict conformity with communist ideals. Since both Watches wanted the same thing, and the Inquisition supported their request, I agreed. I never have liked cities, they're always . . .'
'Please stick to the point,' Edgar told her.
'I carried out the task,' Arina said, finishing her story in a rush. 'I brewed the potion, and it was added to the fine white bread for two weeks. That's all! I was thanked by the two Watches, I left my job at the factory and went home. And then the Secret Police started going absolutely . . .'
'You can write about your difficult relations with the organs of state security in your memoirs!' Edgar suddenly barked. 'What interests me is why you altered the formula.'
Arina slowly got to her feet. Her eyes glittered with fury and her voice thundered as loud as if she were King Kong's mate:
'Remember, this, young man! Arina has never made any mistakes in her spells! Never!'
Edgar remained unimpressed.
'I didn't say you made a mistake. You deliberately altered the formula. And as a result . . .' He paused dramatically.
'What, as a result?' Arina asked, outraged. 'They checked the potion when it was ready. The effect was exactly what was required.'
'As a result, the potion took effect immediately,' said Edgar. 'The Night Watch has never been a collection of fools and idealists. The Light Ones realised that all ten thousand experimental subjects would be doomed if they made an instant switch to communist morality. The potion was supposed to take effect gradually, so that the remoralisation would peak at full power ten years later, in the spring of 1941.'
'That's right,' Arina said soberly. 'And that's the way it was made.'
'The potion had an almost instantaneous effect,' said Edgar. 'We couldn't work out what was happening at first, but after a year the number of experimental subjects had been reduced by half. Less than a hundred of them survived until 1941 – the ones who managed to overcome the remoralisation . . . to demonstrate moral flexibility.'
'Oh, what a terrible thing,' Arina exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. 'How awful . . . I feel so sorry for those poor people . . .' She sat down. Then looked across at me and asked: 'Well, Light One, do you think I was working for the Dark Ones too?'
If she was lying, it was very convincing. I shrugged.
'Everything was done correctly,' Arina said, remaining stubborn. 'The basic ingredients were mixed into the flour . . . do you know how difficult it was in those years to carry out any subversive activity? The retardant in the potion was plain sugar . . .' Suddenly she flung her hands up and stared at Edgar triumphantly. 'That's what went wrong! Those were hungry years, the workers at the combine stole the sugar . . . That's why it worked too fast . . .'
'An interesting theory,' said Edgar, shuffling his papers.
'I'm not to blame for any of this,' Arina declared firmly. 'The plan for the operation was agreed. If the wise men of the Watches failed to think of a simple thing like that, then whose fault is it?'
'That would be all very well,' said Edgar, lifting up another sheet of paper. 'Except that you conducted the first experiment on the workers at the bakery. Here's your report, recognise it? After that, they couldn't have stolen the sugar. So there's only one explanation – you deliberately sabotaged the operation.'
'Why don't we consider some other explanations?' Arina asked plaintively. 'For instance . . .'
'For instance – your friend Louisa's report,' Edgar suggested. 'About how, during the operation, she happened by chance to see you in the company of an unidentified Light Magician near the stand at the race track. About how you argued and haggled, until eventually the Light One handed you some kind of package, and you nodded and shook hands. Louisa even heard the words: 'I'll do it, and in less than a year . . .' Let me remind you that for the duration of the experiment you were forbidden to have any contact with Others. Weren't you?'
'Yes,' said Arina, bowing her head. 'Is Lushka still alive?'
'Unfortunately not,' said Edgar. 'But her testimony was recorded and witnessed.'
'A pity . . .' Arina murmured. She didn't say why it was a pity exactly. But it wasn't too hard to guess that Louisa was fortunate not to be around any longer.
'Can you explain which Light One you met with, what you promised to do and what you received from him?'
Arina raised her head and smiled bitterly at me. She said:
'What a muddle . . . I'm always getting in a muddle . . . over little things. Like that kettle . . .'
'Arina, I am obliged to deliver you for further questioning,' said Edgar. 'In the name of the Inquisition . . .'
'Try it, second-ranker,' Arina said derisively.
And she disappeared.
'She's withdrawn into the Twilight!' I shouted, tearing myself away from the wall and looking round for my shadow. But Edgar delayed for a second, making sure that the witch hadn't averted our eyes.