up in the swamp!' Arina answered in a slightly offended tone. 'Well, I'm listening, Mr Inquisitor Edgar. What business is it that brings you here?'

Edgar sat down facing Arina. He reached under the flap of his jacket and pulled out a leather folder. How had he managed to fit that under there?

'You were sent a summons, Arina,' the Inquisitor said in a soft voice. 'Did you receive it?'

The witch started thinking. Edgar opened his folder and showed her a narrow strip of yellow paper.

'1931!' the witch gasped. 'Oh, all those years ago . . .No, I never received it. I've already explained to the gentleman from the Night Watch that I went to sleep. The Secret Police were trying to frame me . . .'

'The Secret Police are not exactly the most terrible thing in the life of an Other,' said Edgar. 'Very far from it, in fact . . . So, you received the summons . . .'

'I didn't receive it,' Arina said quickly.

'You didn't receive it,' Edgar corrected himself. 'Well, let's accept that. The messenger never came back . . . I suppose anything could have happened to a civilian employee in the bleak Moscow forests.'

Arina said nothing.

I stood by the door, watching. I was curious. An Inquisitor's job is like any watchman's but there was something special about this situation. A Dark Magician interrogating a Dark Witch. And one who was far more powerful than him, a fact that Edgar couldn't fail to appreciate.

But he had the Inquisition standing behind him. And when you're faced with that, you can't count on any help from your 'own' Watch.

'Let us consider that you have now received the summons,' Edgar went on. 'I have been instructed to conduct a preliminary interview with you before any final decisions are taken . . . so . . .'

He took out another piece of paper, glanced at it and asked:

'In the month of March, 1931, were you working at the First Moscow Bread Combine?'

'I was,' Arina said, and nodded.

'For what purpose?'

Arina looked at me.

'He has been informed,' said Edgar. 'Answer the question.'

'I was approached by the leaders of the Night Watch and the Day Watch of Moscow,' Arina said with a sigh. 'The Others wished to know how people would behave if they tried to live in strict conformity with communist ideals. Since both Watches wanted the same thing, and the Inquisition supported their request, I agreed. I never have liked cities, they're always . . .'

'Please stick to the point,' Edgar told her.

'I carried out the task,' Arina said, finishing her story in a rush. 'I brewed the potion, and it was added to the fine white bread for two weeks. That's all! I was thanked by the two Watches, I left my job at the factory and went home. And then the Secret Police started going absolutely . . .'

'You can write about your difficult relations with the organs of state security in your memoirs!' Edgar suddenly barked. 'What interests me is why you altered the formula.'

Arina slowly got to her feet. Her eyes glittered with fury and her voice thundered as loud as if she were King Kong's mate:

'Remember, this, young man! Arina has never made any mistakes in her spells! Never!'

Edgar remained unimpressed.

'I didn't say you made a mistake. You deliberately altered the formula. And as a result . . .' He paused dramatically.

'What, as a result?' Arina asked, outraged. 'They checked the potion when it was ready. The effect was exactly what was required.'

'As a result, the potion took effect immediately,' said Edgar. 'The Night Watch has never been a collection of fools and idealists. The Light Ones realised that all ten thousand experimental subjects would be doomed if they made an instant switch to communist morality. The potion was supposed to take effect gradually, so that the remoralisation would peak at full power ten years later, in the spring of 1941.'

'That's right,' Arina said soberly. 'And that's the way it was made.'

'The potion had an almost instantaneous effect,' said Edgar. 'We couldn't work out what was happening at first, but after a year the number of experimental subjects had been reduced by half. Less than a hundred of them survived until 1941 – the ones who managed to overcome the remoralisation . . . to demonstrate moral flexibility.'

'Oh, what a terrible thing,' Arina exclaimed, throwing her hands up in the air. 'How awful . . . I feel so sorry for those poor people . . .'