Methodius Buslaev. Ticket to Bald Mountain

“I see,” Methodius replied. He was smart enough not to ask questions.

The curious Chimodanov walked around the armchair several times, trying to catch her attention. “Ahem! How was the trip? Got an account for the team? Will you present it?”

Julitta raised her head and looked at him blankly. It seemed, on the whole, that she vaguely understood who was before her.

“Something nasty, huh? I emphasize: I’m indeed also a guard now, huh?” Petruchio continued.

Zuduka’s dangling feet peeped out from under his thin sweater. In spite of its tendency to pull pranks, the monster feared to be left alone. Not possessing vocal cords, it sought other means to express its horror. For example, it located an empty saucepan and banged the walls until everyone in the neighbourhood, having the good fortune to hear it, began to bang their heads against the walls in turn. It also feared the dark, by the way, and spent the night in the same bed with Chimodanov. This gave Nata the excuse to declare that the demonic Petruchio slept with a plush bunny.

“So, where’s Ares? Why are you so utterly sickly?”

“Go away! I’ll get up, and you’ll lie down!” Julitta said through her teeth.

The persistent Chimodanov did not leave her alone. Then Julitta actually got up. And Chimodanov actually lay down, thrown several metres by an unknown force. Meanwhile, the witch – Methodius and Daph were ready to swear – did not even move a finger.

Having dealt with Chimodanov, Julitta laboriously approached the mirror and looked at herself. What she saw was the last straw. The witch again collapsed into the armchair and burst into tears – convulsively, with whines and whimpers. The walls trembled. One of them cracked. A sudden hurricane swept through Bolshaya Dmitrovka. It inflated ads, snatched several umbrellas, rummaged through the books on the second-hand bookseller’s table, shattered a dozen windows, showering the roadway with glass, and caused several minor accidents.

Met, Moshkin, and Chimodanov, no longer lying but sitting on the floor, immediately took a back seat. The witch’s intense emotions were not for their delicate nervous system. Daph and Nata instantly rushed to calm Julitta and give her something to drink. At such moments, girls, as Methodius had observed, act much more sensibly and with more experience. Someone else’s tears, even the most inconsolable, do not frighten them as much.

About ten minutes later, Julitta’s sobs began to subside. She got up, approached the wall, and tore the rug from the wall with a single movement of her hand. Methodius saw a large stone, polished to a shine, with one long and crooked crack cutting it from the top left corner to the lower right.

“Don’t you want to ask me what this is?” the witch asked dully.

“A tombstone,” Methodius answered without hesitation for everyone. He had already had time to become accustomed to the unique stylistics of their establishment.

“Precisely. Not just wizards have zoomers. Don’t you want to watch the news? They can’t not talk about this…” Julitta uttered and sobbed again. However, this sobbing, fortunately, did not develop into hysteria. Strength is needed in order to sob in full voice. Julitta no longer had strength.

The tombstone was wrapped in a dense greenish fog. A flabby face vaguely appeared through the fog.

“Did they smudge my teeth with soil? Put worms in my ears? No again? Away with the makeup technician! What! Yesterday again? It’s clear now why the soap was so terrible in the morning! I hope they’ve at least found the suicide who is going to lift my eyelids in the finale? How did she change her mind and run away? Oh, poor me! Doing everything myself again… What are you whispering over there? Shooting now? I beg your pardon, gentlemen! On air is Venny Vii and his analytical program Cadaveric Eye.”

At this point, Venny, as usual, paused and smiled into the camera, baring his terrible, green-tinged teeth. The acquaintance with those same teeth brought the life of many dentists closer to the end of the rope. Yes, those very dentists whom he loved to visit in his spare time.

“As is known, there are three kinds of news: sensational, simple, and bad,” Vii continued. “We’ll start with the bad. Nagiana Pripyatskaya again won the main prize as presenter of the year… Well, old age – ho, ho! – should be rewarded on merits. Personally I don’t envy Nagiana, especially as the prize was just an ordinary prophetic pharaoh’s mummy. In order that it doesn’t whither and continues to play the oracle, one has to feed it with an eyedropper and sleep with it under the same blanket at least once a week. And in general, Nagiana’s broadcast hasn’t been as successful recently as, say, Coffinia Cryptova’s program. I’m forced to admit this, although this girl also allowed herself to dominate me in spirit: ‘you’ll open your eyes, you’ll stretch out your legs!’ Very funny joke, girl, very funny! One eye specialist asked me roughly with the same zeal to open my eyes.”

Vii’s heavy eyelids trembled threateningly and lifted one-tenth of the way. Hundreds of spectators rushed screaming away from the screens; however, it did not go any further. The eyelids again descended under their own weight and the weight of the clinging earth.

“Other news: the search continues for the fairy Middlelina, suspected of the theft of an artifact from the depository. The raciness of the situation is enhanced by the fact that no one knows precisely what artifact was stolen and what unpleasantness this can cause. Taking into account that Middlelina was never found on Bald Mountain, they are searching for her from now on in the moronoid world. Our noble combat wizards, naturally, report that the circle of search has shrunk. Sure, the earth is round.

“And finally, the sensational! The recent events in the world of guards of Light and Gloom are followed with interest on Bald Mountain. After the definitive destruction of Kvodnon, there is only one individual who can theoretically take his place. This is the well-known to all heir of Gloom Methodius Buslaev. Taking into account that this gifted adolescent not so long ago gave up guns and cars, the high council of Gloom gathered this morning for decision making. And then, my untrue friends, keep your eyes open! You’ll be able to see how everything was… The footage, it goes without saying, was shot with a hidden camera. The operator subsequently… eh-h… was forced to stop the filming. Please!”

Venny Vii snapped his fingers. The tombstone rippled. Methodius saw a long, infinitely long table. The table ended with a short cross-beam like the top of the letter “T”. There, on an unprepossessing office chair, Ligul the hunchback sat in solitude and gnawed his nails. Then he raised his head, grinned, and shouted boomingly, “Summon everyone!”

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 - The original Russian text used the word bezbashennyi for mindless, referring to the severed head.] 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.