His voice had not even fallen silent, when the spirit-courtiers started to flicker in the air like specks, in small ripples, like crumpled cigarette wrappers. And a minute had not gone by, when the pig snout of agents started to grunt along the corners of the room. They licked their faces, their black bulging eyes sparkled, the stubbles on their snouts stood on end, and rigid hair curled out of their ears. Attentive, they looked hard at each other. Their mouths were narrow, straight, like the slots of piggy banks. Their intrigue was considerable, the scumbags – there were not enough positions, and every year, the list from Tartarus was reduced. Here the agents were also spinning. Someone just opened his mouth and the rest already caught his words in a notebook. Even now, each pressed a leaflet to his chest, which he hurried to hand over to Ligul personally or at least place on the edge of his desk.
“Go with the denunciations! No time for you now!” the hunchback bellowed.
No sooner had the agents disappeared, when the succubi, rubbing each other, climbed out of windows, cabinets, and doors. They flirted, fluttered, giggled, sighed, and clambered to kiss. The succubi curtseyed on their hind legs and swooned quietly in front of Ligul, robed in ceremonial regalia.
Someone was inadvertently pressed down in the darkness and he yelped loudly. The yelp was immediately drowned in the dissatisfied grumbling of the crowd, seeing it as an attempt to draw attention to himself.
Suddenly all the lightweights fled. The bosses of Gloom – the heads of all the national divisions with their secretaries and entourages – had arrived. The long table was filled so that a pea had nowhere to fall. Ares with Julitta flickered for a moment among the crowd.
Methodius looked around at the witch. She sat white as a sheet. He touched her hand reassuringly. Julitta smiled weakly in thanks.
The camera again stopped at Ligul. Placing his thumbs in his belt, he wriggled the rest of his fingers precisely like the tentacles of an octopus. The division heads waited. A sucking silence filled the infernal Chancellery.
Finally, Ligul grunted and clapped his hands. At the same moment, an enormous silver cup filled with something thick, red, and frighteningly clear emerged on the table in front of him. After removing from his neck a large medal on a chain – a medal, on which someone’s face in relief was discernible, Ligul brought it to the cup, and, unclenching his hand, dropped it to the bottom. All eyes were directed to it. Having taken the cup with both hands, the chief of the Chancellery began to drink greedily. The blood flowed down his cheeks and neck, spilling onto his ceremonial suit.
At last, the cup was empty. Ligul retrieved the blood-stained medal and examined it, as it seemed to Methodius, anxiously. Then he suddenly jerked up the hand with the medal over his head and burst out laughing. And instantly, enthusiastic wild shouts, howls, and laughter, in which there could not be anything human, swept the entire hall.
The lens of the concealed camera, attempting to catch a close-up of the medal, suddenly tossed about. The image wavered and a short shriek was heard. The camera fell and lay on its side, filming feet. Shortly, a hand appeared in the frame, holding by the hair a severed head with a large wart on its nose.
“Well, smile into the camera! Yet another operator from Bald Mountain thought that an invisible cloak would save him!” a voice uttered contentedly. A boot stepped on the lens. Everything disappeared. Eternal night came for the concealed camera.
Venny Vii again appeared on the zoomer screen. A black hanky was clutched in his bluish chubby hand, with which he was wiping away from those closed eyelids tears existing only in his imagination.
“Death at work! How this touches the calloused hearts of the brasses! Now you understand what I had in mind, saying that the operator was forced to stop filming? Ahh! It was my best ghoul. A courageous and completely mindless staffer. Mindless, alas, already in the literal sense of the word.[5] Fortunately, everything that was shot was immediately transmitted through telepathic channels to our centre… And now, my friends, if you’re interested, Venny will report how the high council of the guards of Gloom ended and what it decided. First: Ligul the hunchback is now not only the head of the Chancellery, but also the temporarily acting sovereign of Gloom. Until now, this post was nominally occupied by Kvodnon, who is finally out of the game now.”
“How does he know all this?” Methodius asked.
“Probably enticed one of the agents. Wizards pay rather well for information they’re interested in,” Julitta said indifferently.
“Pay with what? Money?” Chimodanov asked.
“What’s money got to do with it?” Julitta replied with the deepest contempt.
On the screen, Venny Vii brushed away adhered dirt from his shirtfront with a learned gesture. “I’ll continue! The speed of Methodius Buslaev’s degradation has been declared by Gloom as insufficient. The presence of his self – the unsold and un-pawned eidos – has been declared scandalous. It has been decided to appoint him a new guardian until he comes of age. I suspect either Ligul himself or someone he’ll assign to this post. The old guardian, the swordsman Ares, has been indicted and exiled to Lower Tartarus. Ares refused the demand to return his sword. As a result of his arrest, a number of vacancies in some divisions of Gloom have become available.”
“Ares has been seized?” Methodius asked, in disbelief.
“He killed three guards, but then they disarmed him anyway! You should’ve seen how he left! A lion surrounded by mongrels! And they were all jumping and shouting, ‘Death to him!’” Julitta replied, sobbing.
“Yes, everything was neatly arranged! Ligul used the destruction of Kvodnon to appropriate power till Methodius’ maturity. Moreover, Ligul himself or one he sends will train Methodius!” Chimodanov estimated, having had time to delve into the basic power structure.
“But why didn’t they execute Ares?” Daphne asked. The mores of dark guards, very far from sentimentality, were well known to her.
“Ligul didn’t dare. I suspect he’s slightly afraid. Not now, but for the future, just in case. Everything might turn around! For this same reason he spared my life and even allowed me to leave Tartarus. I didn’t expect that!” Julitta said with contempt.
“Afraid of whom?” Daph clarified.
The witch did not answer, only squinted quickly at Methodius. Daphne sighed. She had managed to fall in love with the guy whom even the head of the Chancellery of Gloom fears! And not only fall in love, but tie her wings and her eternity together with him.
Strong blows shook the reception door.
“Who else is there? We aren’t expecting anyone!” Nata said with unease.
The blows did not subside. They did not become more violent, but rather nastier. The one banging this way knew that he was heard and sooner or later it would open. This was the knock of a master of the situation.
“Are we letting him in?” Daph asked.
Julitta shook her head slowly. “No.”
“Why?”
“If it’s a moronoid, the rune will stop him. If not, he’ll enter and…” the witch did not finish and waved her hand.
The sound of a door being opened was heard. Apparently, the one who knocked was tired of waiting for the grass to grow.
“No, not a moronoid…” Daph said quietly, observing how Depressiac’s back acquired the resemblance of a question mark and the short leathery nose cut through three deep folds.
Julitta kept silent. Everyone, including Depressiac and Zuduka, attentively listened as someone walked with a shuffling and unsteady gait in reception below. Now he pushed aside a chair, now he opened the door into Ares’ office and glanced casually in it. Now steps approached the inner staircase. The rickety oak rails began to creak. A gurgling cough was heard. It seemed something vile