you know this very well. I learned in school that guards of Gloom started this rumour in the moronoid world. Isn’t it so?” Daphne said. Ares frowned, showing that the matter was not common knowledge here. “Very well, I agree, it didn’t happen… I imagine that it’s monkey originating from the best part of humanity. Gorillas – from athletes, baboons – from politicians, and macaques – from the intellectual elite. Need proof? Easy! In the moronoid world, Signor Tomato, there is only one law – the law of the strong. They trample down and kick the weak (them first of all) – morally, and often even literally. Besides the right of strength, for some reason they have not come up with other rights.”
“You forgot one additional human right. The right to pardon and to create good, in spite of everything,” said Daphne obstinately. Methodius looked at her in amazement. He did not suspect such internal strength in his frail guard of Light. Neither did Ares, perhaps. Because he suddenly calmed down, stopped flying into a passion, and said conciliatorily, “Well, well, little one! Curtail your Light propaganda, or I can think of something else! At least, if it’s convenient, don’t continue in the same spirit. Just that sooner or later you’ll find a fork in your neck, a half-eaten sausage with the tracks of your best friend’s teeth will be pinned to your teeth… Philanthropy, alas, is punishable.” There was not a hint of humour in Ares’ voice. He hid the dagger, lightly pushed Methodius away and left. The office door shut.
Julitta approached and, after examining Methodius’ neck, whispered at the shallow cut. “Don’t be mad at him! Now and then Ares gets that way… Frequently in the lighthouse, he would be quiet for whole weeks, and then would suddenly begin to joke spitefully and laugh at Light and Gloom at once. At such times, it was best to keep quiet. Then it would let go of him and he again would be as before…” Julitta said softly.
“Why is he so? Will you explain?” Met asked. If Daph posed this request, the answer would be a decisive no. But here Julitta hesitated. She related well to Methodius. After looking sideways at the office, with a flick of her finger she placed a circular shield to protect against eavesdropping. Ligul the hunchback’s face in the group portrait of the bigwigs of Gloom stretched resentfully. Simultaneously on the adjacent landscape with a view of a humble cemetery in the spirit of Zhukovsky, the outermost gravestones stirred disappointedly. Even Ares from the office – and that one could hardly x-ray the magic barrier, although it was unlikely part of his plan.
“I think it’s all because one can’t half-serve Gloom. Gloom itself punishes its servants, taking away their dearest, with the blood wrung out of them. Take any of us. All of us are either unhappy, without eidos, with a gaping wound in the chest that will never heal, or puffed up narcissistic blockheads (tomorrow, Methodius, you’ll see them), or generally natural freaks like Ligul. Staunch supporters of Gloom are actually few, although there are, certainly…”
“Why then do the rest serve?” Methodius was astonished. “Well, my dear, you’ve got to be kidding! It’s very simple to find oneself on the side of Gloom: only carelessly stumble on the slope once and… you’ll be rolling down indefinitely. Although now and then you’re rolling merrily, in style, you don’t argue with this…” The twenty-year-old witch snorted, remembering something. Possibly, the next date, casino, or bar, which she was going to smash soon. It was not her habit to retain the tension of a thought for long. Julitta was as quick to calm down as to flare up.
“Although, on the other hand, I have difficulty visualizing Ares among the guards of Light. Right, Daph? How is it with your imagination?” Julitta asked. Daph thought for a while and tried to answer honestly, “The stone griffins would not like Ares, and this, and that… Although among us, for example, are complete bores. Tedium and bigotry are the main unpleasant features of Light. Or, more precisely, are our main temptations.”
“Listen, Julitta, who is this F’less? Well, do you understand whom I’m talking about?” Methodius asked in a whisper. “Are you still being obstinate? Okay, I think it’s worthwhile to tell you nevertheless, although Ares would disagree. After all, couldn’t you indeed also find this out from the Book of Chameleons? If you weren’t such a lazy person?” the witch winked at him with a hint. “Uh-huh!” Methodius agreed, surprised that the thought of the book did not come to him earlier.
“Kvodnon – only I beg you, Met, don’t repeat it, you have some black tongue – is the true host of Gloom. Its only sovereign. Faceless Kvodnon is the second and true face of Two-faced Kvodnon. Got it?” Methodius began to shake his head, digesting the information. “Faceless is the true face of Two-faced? Now I’m even more confused.”
“For some reason I thought so. It’s always necessary to explain for a long time elementary things to a moronoid. But here genies, let’s say, understand such fine points immediately. You say to them, ‘Listen, friend, there was Two-faced Kvodnon, and now he’s Faceless Kvodnon. So don’t you forget it, friend, when we say simply Kvodnon, we imply the previous Kvodnon in his administrative quality; when we say Two-faced, we imply the collective essence of Kvodnon; when we say Faceless, we’re talking about the present.’”
“Who-oa, come again! I also don’t understand. Didn’t our golden-wings strike down Kvodnon? During the decisive battle? Really not so?” Daph was surprised. “We even have an annual holiday in Eden!” Julitta looked at her with mockery. “Well, you’re our merry fellow here! Why don’t you enjoy yourself? Play your pipe a little? Especially if the occasion exists.” “Jokes, jokes. Nevertheless, I don’t understand: Faceless, Two-faced, simply Kvodnon… How many of them are there?”
“The number of young child prodigies swiftly increases. It goes without saying, in reality there’s only one Kvodnon. Darling, the golden-wings destroyed the body of Kvodnon, thus converting Two-faced Kvodnon to Faceless. Moreover, golden-wings knew how to do it such that Kvodnon will never be able to be personified. Not in one of the existing bodies, not even in an agent. In any case, it’s considered so. Many of us doubt that golden-wings knew how to destroy the immortal essence of Kvodnon. Do you know why? Because they didn’t!”
“But I thought Ligul is now the sovereign of Gloom and they intend me for his place,” said Methodius thoughtfully. Julitta burst out laughing. “Who, who in the place of Ligul? You? So that he would push off to make way for you. No, Ligul is himself, and you’re yourself.” “You’re certain?”
“Who is Ligul, if we look closely? An ordinary manager! A pimple on the body of Gloom! An upstart, the head of the Chancellery, which takes stock of nasty deeds of moronoids and their eide. Some eide go into our darc but a small portion. Maximum one third. Where do you think the rest goes? At least, let’s say, that eidos of the unlucky suicide, which Mamzelkina recently brought over? Do you think it’ll reach Ligul? Only crumbs from the lordly table fall to his lot!”
“To whom will it go then?” “Now here again Faceless Kvodnon surfaces, his spirit, his true shady side, about which no one knows anything… This eidos together with many others will be dropped into a dark vessel, which stands in the centre of Tartarus, on a three-legged support with lion feet.”
“Why?” “Oh, there are many versions. Even Ares hardly knows them all. The most widespread: Kvodnon, who by the very fact of his existence makes up Gloom, needs this. The vessel on lion feet is special. Not even an artefact but the first artefact. Hundreds of eide and parchments covered in writing about the acts of mortals have already been deposited into it daily for many centuries. And, until now, take note: the vessel has not been filled. Moreover, to steal anything from the vessel is impossible by definition. It recognizes only one owner, whom no one has seen for a long time already.”
“Kvo…” “Shh!” Julitta looked at Buslaev with the long-suffering patience of a mother explaining to a year-old child that he should not poke papa’s eye with a fork. “Oh-oh-oh! Papa will get boo-boo!” “Possibly. Whether Kvodnon exists or not, don’t let this paradox trouble you. A moronoid always learns about the
