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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-incredible 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-you 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-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."
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"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-for 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-acting 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-maybe 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-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
authorized by the Inquisition was disrupted-that 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 ..."
THE WITCH ARINA WAS BREWING A POTION-JUST LIKE ANY SELF-respecting witch is supposed to do in
her little house in the forest-standing by the Russian 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 from a bumble bee, And the collar from my beagle?
Arina started violently. "Oh, good heavens above!" she exclaimed.
It sounded perfectly natural... but somehow I knew for sure that the witch had been expecting us.
"Hello, Arina," Edgar said in an expressionless voice. "Inquisition. Please stop working your spells."
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