"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."

Arina deftly thrust the pot into the stove and only then turned around. 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! But why interfere 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 imperturbably. "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 jolly apron with its pattern of daisies and cornflowers. Then she glanced sideways at me.

"Good morning, Arina," I said. "Mr. 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 replied in a slightly offended tone. "Well, I'm listening, Mr. Inquisitor Edgar. What business is it that brings you here?"

Edgar sat down facing Arina. He put one hand in under the flap of his jacket and pulled out a leather folder. Where 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?"

Arina started thinking hard. Edgar opened his folder and showed Arina 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…"

"They're not really 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 didn't say anything.

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 verify how people would behave if they attempted 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 I was given," Arina said, and finished off 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 bakery, 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 voiced thundered as loud as if she were King Kong's mate. "Remember this, young man! Arina has never made any mistakes in her recipes! Never!"

Edgar remained absolutely 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 realized that all 10,000 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 remoralization 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 one 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 remoralization… to demonstrate moral flexibility."