Frau Waldvogel, who was dolled up in a luxurious evening dress and modern jewellery (which was obviously very expensive), led us to a table where the most highly respected witches were sitting. As far as I could see, they were all Higher Ones. Khokhlenko was among them, but even she seemed rather surprised to be there. The Grandmother of Moscow had probably been seated at the top table out of respect for us… For Nadezhda, that is, I thought to myself. ‘Not for us. For Nadya. She’s the one they’re interested in.’
As we made our way between the tables, I heard snippets of conversation.
‘. . . Jack was a fine young fellow, very fine. But you know, my dear, a childhood like that is simply bound to scramble a person’s brains. There weren’t any psychologists back then, so he took it out on those poor prostitutes…’
‘No, no! You’ve got it all wrong! Physical chastity is absolutely unimportant. I mean, it is desirable, but it isn’t the main criterion! What is important is spiritual innocence, you could even call it spiritual naivety, a purity that comes from the bottom of the heart, an innocence of the mind! And given the right processing, the heart of a chaste girl like that…’
‘How disgusting,’ Nadya said in a low voice, taking hold of my hand – she was listening to the conversations too. ‘At least I know I could never be taken for that kind of virgin.’
I pretended I hadn’t heard that.
However, there were less disturbing conversations too.
‘Early in the morning! The very moment the edge of the sun appears over the horizon, you go out into the fields and start collecting the buds, thinking good thoughts, with a smile on your lips, and you can sing a quiet little song…’
Maybe if we’d carried on listening it would have turned out that the flowers were being collected for some gross and abominable purpose, but we moved on to our table and didn’t hear the end of the story.
In contrast with the vampires’ gathering, everything here really was very pleasant indeed – especially if you didn’t listen too closely or try to look through the cosmetic spells.
The room was full of smiling women, young and old, all eager to give Nadya a peck on the cheek and give me a hug. There was an abundance of pink clothing on display – my daughter was almost the only one wearing black. There were little jokes and quips, bright smiles, pieces of cake floating from one table to another on saucers, tea being poured – as well as wine, beer and cognac. The Conclave of Witches was like a flock of pink, fluffy animals, all chewing intently and wagging their little tails.
But the first rule in dealing with cute, fluffy animals is not to poke them with your finger – unless you happen to be wearing thick gloves.
‘Sisters!’ one of the witches sitting at our table called, getting to her feet. Her voice sounded strong and steady, and it filled the entire space – the same trick that Nadya had used a little earlier. ‘Our modest community is honoured today by the presence of Nadezhda Gorodetsky and her father, Anton Gorodetsky.’
I winced. Yes, of course it’s very flattering when your children are well known and highly thought of. But it’s still rather sad to know that you’re nothing more than an appendage of your own daughter.
‘We all know what is happening,’ the witch continued. She was slim, with olive skin, black eyes, and hair ‘the colour of a raven’s wing’ as the poets once loved to say. ‘I, Ernesta, greet our guests on behalf of everyone and promise them all the help that we can give.’
That sounded very encouraging. A bit of help, for a change.
‘Thank you, Ernesta,’ I replied, getting to my feet. I had heard about the speaker before; she was a Spanish witch, one of the most revered in the community. But there was something strange here… ‘May I ask a personal question?’
Ernesta smiled and nodded.
‘I thought that you had been in the Inquisition for many years now?’
‘Since 1891,’ the witch responded politely. ‘Are you surprised that I am at the Conclave?’
‘Yes.’
‘The Conclave as an organisation is not involved at all in the opposition between the Watches. We have Light Ones among us. And in general, the Conclave is rather like a special-interest club for girls.’
I permitted myself a smile, since that was what was expected of me.
‘So I am able to serve in the Inquisition, while remaining a witch and participating in the Conclave,’ Ernesta concluded.
‘Good,’ I said. ‘Then tell me this, as both a member of the Conclave and a serving Inquisitor: how did the information on the Two-in-One come to be lost? Such important information about a god, engendered by the Twilight? The Sixth Watch was still remembered in the Middle Ages. What happened after that? Why are we still floundering about, scrabbling for crumbs of information and unsure of how to interpret it correctly?’
Silence descended – the witches even stopped chewing.
‘I cannot answer that,’ said Ernesta. She wasn’t embarrassed – there isn’t any way to embarrass a witch – but she clearly did not like the question. ‘Information of such great importance should not have been lost. But it really is missing. There are certain secondary documents of some importance, hints, references in books… If you would like to know my opinion…’
‘I would,’ I said, nodding.
‘The information was deliberately destroyed. And a number of Others must have been involved in destroying it. Light Ones, Dark Ones, Inquisitors, magicians, witches, vampires…’
‘The Sixth Watch must have been involved,’ Nadya exclaimed. ‘Isn’t that it?’
‘Bravo, little girl,’ said Ernesta. ‘That’s exactly it. We came to the conclusion that the members of the Sixth Watch had intentionally obliterated the memory of it.’
‘We?’ the plump, light-haired witch sitting beside Ernesta asked in surprise.
‘We as in the Inquisition,’ Ernesta explained. ‘Anton, unfortunately we are unable to give you any more information. None of our sisters know anything about the Two-in-One and the Sixth Watch.’
‘We too have terrifying stories that we try to forget…’ a witch at the next table said in a squeaky voice. She was one of the few who were not disguising their age with sorcery, and by human standards she looked about a hundred years old. ‘And the story of the Two-in-One, sweetheart, is one of those…’
‘Do you know something, Mary?’ Ernesta asked.
‘About the Two-in-One?’ Mary shook her head sharply, disturbing the sparse bunches of grey hair that had been arranged like curls to decorate her bald cranium. ‘No, no, sister… I know about Thomas with the Matches, about the Little Spindle and—’
‘Don’t tell us about that in the presence of outsiders, sister,’ Ernesta told her gently but firmly. ‘We value your stories, sister. But tell us later.’
Mary nodded and even put her wrinkled hand over her mouth in a comical gesture. I actually felt a strange respect for this ancient witch who made no attempt to conceal her age.
‘By the way, sister, have you not forgotten something?’ Ernesta enquired. ‘And I don’t mean about the Two-in-One.’
‘What could I have forgotten?’ Mary asked indignantly.
‘Well… to take a look at yourself in the mirror before you left your room…’ Ernesta said, twitching her shoulders. ‘To powder your nose… Or splash some water from an onyx chalice on your face…’