Methodius Buslaev. The Scroll of Desires. Дмитрий Емец

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 existence of Kvodnon at the very last moment, when Mamzelkina’s scythe has already dropped. Someone, after all, composes the lists… hmm…of harvest for our manager. And, indeed you can trust me, it’s not Ligul. Otherwise, I would have been in them long ago.”

      Methodius suddenly perceived how his hair started to throb, ache, and hurt. It was a strange sensation, almost a warning, emerging exactly at the moment when he wanted to pose a question to Julitta. But he did, nevertheless. Simply because he was Methodius Buslaev. Stubborn as the log, on which Eddy Khavron sat. “Listen, if K exists… then why did Ares either in jest or in earnest call me the sovereign of Gloom? Or does K… intend to hand over his authority to me?”

      Julitta blew on her long bangs. “Puff… Well, you, pardon me, pose some questions! I myself don’t know how the rest goes here, but, I think the authority of Kvodnon is now of another kind. Kvodnon is now a spirit, and the authority of a spirit is always more ideological than real. The sovereign of Gloom in his present understanding – it’s…to compare it to something…well, like a king. Only I immediately warn you: don’t be flattered. Yes, a king has authority and power. He can execute or show mercy. He can declare war or make peace. Everything, it would seem, is tiptop. But you see: a king can be overthrown, poisoned, executed, struck down in battle, or in the end, he can die by himself. And furthermore, the usual story is: ‘The king is dead… Long live the king!’ Isn’t there such a thing?” Methodius unwillingly nodded.

      Julitta looked at him sympathetically and continued, “Here Kvodnon – the old, solid Kvodnon, not the current, Faceless – once keeled over in battle with Light, and now they carefully cultivate you to fit on his throne in order again with your help to try to even the score with Light. If not you, sooner or later another Buslaev will be born. However, no one can become Two-faced Kvodnon and the more so Faceless. He’s unique. He existed primordially. He’s more ancient than this world.” “This Gloom of yours is a muddled organization,” said Daphne, shaking her head. “Don’t say it, Light. A simple horror, so muddled. On the other hand, it’s more understandable to me than that Eden,” agreed Julitta.

      Behind the door, Ares gave a resounding cough and struck the table with his fist. Julitta hurried. “Well, that’s it, party’s over! Chief’s in a bad mood! Daph, Met, take your infernal kitty away – it had gnawed a corner off the marble table over there! – and march to Glumovich’s school to lead the poor fellow to a heart attack! Methodius, you will be needed tomorrow at midnight. Make a note of it!” she stated.

      Chapter 3

      Minister of Scrofula, King of Aspirin

      In the infinite flow of humanity that crawls along the subway escalators all day and a substantial part of the night, thousands of female faces flicker. They float past and are lost in the expanse of the subway reeking of rubber and the twisting passages under the streets. Their motley army includes: battalions of workaholics and regiments of harassed housewives, squads of sympathisers and artillery battalions of stinkers, logistic units of prisoners of the office, cavalry of hundreds of adventure seekers, divisions of wild hysterical women, draft reinforcements of bluestockings, strategic reserves of former wives, lawless detachments