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Arina suddenly reappeared in front of us. Already dressed, I think she had even brushed her hair. Smiling.
"I could still fix you without any killing," she gloated. "I could paralyze you or make you ugly."
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"You could," Svetlana agreed. "No doubt. Only what would be the point?"
For a brief moment Arina's eyes were filled with such intense melancholy that I felt my heart ache in my chest.
"There isn't any point, sorceress. Well then, goodbye. I don't remember kindnesses, but I'm not ashamed to say
thank you ... so thank you, Great One. It will be hard for you . . . now."
"I already know that," Svetlana said in a quiet voice.
Arina's gaze came to rest on me and she smiled flirtatiously. "And goodbye to you, sorcerer. Don't feel sorry for
me, I don't like that. Ah . . . what a pity you love your wife ..."
She knelt down and held her hand out to Nadiushka.
Svetlana didn't stop her!
"Goodbye, little girl," the witch said merrily. "I'm a wicked old aunty, but I wish you well. Whoever it was that
sketched out your destiny was no fool. . . oh, no fool at all. . . maybe you'll succeed where we failed? Now I have
a little present for you ..." She glanced at Svetlana.
Svetlana nodded, to my great surprise.
Arina took hold of Nadiushka's finger. She muttered, "Shall I wish you Power? You have plenty of Power already.
They've given you everything... and plenty of everything... You like flowers, don't you? Then take this gift from
me-how to use flowers and herbs. That will come in handy even for a Light Enchantress."
"Goodbye, Aunty Arina," Nadiushka said in a quiet voice. "Thank you."
The witch looked at me again. I was dumbfounded, totally confused, I didn't understand a thing. Then she turned
to the werewolves.
"Well then, lead on, gray wolf!" she exclaimed.
The wolf cubs went dashing after the witch and their mentor. One filthy little beast even stopped beside a bush,
lifted his leg and sprayed it defiantly. Nadiushka giggled.
"Svetlana," I whispered. "They're getting away . . ."
"Let them go," she replied. "Let them."
Then she turned toward me.
"What's happened?" I asked, looking into her eyes. "What and when?"
"Let's go home," said Svetlana. "We... we need to have a talk, Anton. A serious talk."
How I hate those words.
They never lead to anything good.
Epilogue MY MOTHER-IN-LAW CLUCKED AND FUSSED OVER NADIUSHKA AS SHE PUT her to bed. "Ah,
you little storyteller, what an imagination ..."
"I did go for a walk with the aunty," my daughter protested sleepily.
"You did, of course you did ..." my mother-in-law agreed happily.
Svetlana winced painfully. Sooner or later all Others are obliged to manipulate their relatives' memories.
And there's nothing pleasant about that.
Of course, we do have a choice. We could reveal the truth- or part of the truth-to our nearest and dearest.
But that doesn't produce very good results either.
"Good night, little daughter," said Svetlana.
"Off you go, go on," my mother-in-law sniffed. "You've worn my little girl out, exhausted her, the poor
sweetheart..."
We left the room and Svetlana closed the door firmly. It was quiet. The only sound was the pendulum clock
creaking on the wall.
"All that namby-pamby talk," I said. "You can't treat a child like that..."
"A girl you can," Svetlana said, dismissing my opinion. "And especially if she's only three. Anton ... let's go into
the garden."
"The garden, all right, the garden it is," I agreed cheerfully. "Let's go."
We both walked over to the hammock and sat down beside each other. I could feel Svetlana trying to pull away,
hard as that is to do in a hammock.
"Start from the very beginning," I advised her.
"From the beginning ..." Svetlana sighed. "From the beginning . . . that's not possible. Everything's too tangled
up."
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"Then explain why you let the witch go."
"She knows too much, Anton. And if there's a trial ... if it all comes out..."
"But she's a criminal!"
"Arina didn't do anything bad to us," Svetlana said in a quiet voice, as if she were trying to convince herself. "I
don't think she's bloodthirsty at all. Most witches are genuinely malevolent, but there are some like that. ..."
"I give up!" I said, raising my hands in the air. "She kept the werewolves in line, and she didn't hurt Nadya. A
genuine Arina Rodionovna, she really is. And what about the disruption of the experiment?"
"She explained that."
"What did she explain? That almost a hundred years of Russian history was flushed down the tubes? That
instead of a normal society, a bureaucratic dictatorship was built... with all the consequences that flow from
that?"
"You heard what she said-that would have meant people finding out about us."
I gave a deep sigh and tried to collect my thoughts.
"Sveta . . . think what you're saying. Five years ago you were a human being yourself. We still are human ... only
we're more advanced. Like a new twist in the spiral of evolution. If people had found out, it wouldn't have
mattered!"
"We're not more advanced," Svetlana said with a shake of her head. "Anton, when you called me ... I guessed
that the witch would be watching the Twilight, so I jumped straight to the fifth level. Apart from Gesar and Olga, I
don't think any of our Light Ones have ever been there ..."
She stopped. And I realized this was what Svetlana wanted to talk about. Something that was truly terrible.
"What's down there, Sveta?" I whispered.
"I was there for quite a long time," Svetlana went on. "And anyway ... I realized a few things. Just how doesn't
matter right now."
"And?"
"Everything it says in the witch's book is right, Anton. We're not genuine magicians. We don't have greater
abilities than ordinary people. We're exactly like the blue moss at the first level of the Twilight. Remember that
example from the book about body temperature and the temperature of the surroundings? Well then, all people
have a magical temperature of 97.7°F. Some who are very lucky, or unlucky, have a fever-their temperature is
higher. And all that energy, all that Power, warms the world. Our body temperature is below the norm. We absorb
Power that isn't ours and we can redistribute it. We're parasites. A weak Other like Igor has a temperature of
ninety-three. Yours is, say, sixty-eight. Mine is fifty."
I had my answer ready. I'd already thought about this, just as soon as I finished reading the book.
"But so what, Sveta? What of it? People can't use their Power. We can. So what's the point?"
"The point is that people will never come to terms with that. Even the best and the kindest always look enviously
at those who have been given more. At the sportsmen, the handsome men and beautiful women, the geniuses
and the ones with talent. But they can't complain about it... it's fate, chance. But now imagine that you're an
ordinary human being. Perfectly ordinary. And suddenly you discover that some people live for hundreds of years,
can predict the future, heal diseases, and put a hex on you. Quite seriously, all for real. And all at your expense.
We're parasites, Anton. Exactly like the vampires. Exactly like the blue moss. If that gets out, if they invent some
new instrument that can distinguish
Others from normal people, they'll start hunting us and exterminating us. And if we band together and create our [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]