‘It’s nothing – nonsense, really,’ I said, with a dismissive wave of my hand. I downed the rest of the coffee. ‘Listen, do you earn a bit on the side as a waitress in London?’
‘Unfortunately I don’t have a work permit,’ Arina laughed. ‘It’s all charity work. You’re looking a bit crumpled.’
‘I had a nightmare,’ I admitted reluctantly. ‘Nothing very informative. Just Nadka, grown up already and … kind of strange … like all teenagers, I suppose … Not very nice, to be honest. And she accused me of doing something to the Others.’
Arina’s expression turned serious. And what she said only convinced me that she took this dream seriously.
‘It’s nonsense, Anton. Some dreams are just dreams. Can you tell me about it in a bit more detail?’
‘No,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘Okay, let’s drop it. Do you happen to know if fairies really exist?’
‘Er …’ Arina hesitated. ‘I don’t know. Probably not, of course, but it seems kind of rude to say that right beside Kensington Gardens.’
‘Yesterday, as I was walking to the hotel, I saw a little boy on a fallen tree. He was playing a reed pipe and glowing insects were swarming around him. He saw me, grinned and ran off.’
‘Ran off or flew off?’
‘That I don’t know.’
‘And you decided you’d run into Peter Pan?’
‘God only knows what I thought!’
‘Inversion. And projection.’
‘What?’
‘A vapour trail. How many people have read the story of Peter Pan? How many children have watched a cartoon or a film? How many of them have imagined Kensington Gardens and Peter? How many of those were overt or potential Others?’
‘We can’t create people.’
‘Any woman can do that,’ Arina laughed. ‘But we’re talking about something different here. An image – one that has been adequately visualised – is projected onto a point at which there is already an immense concentration of Power. The Power at the various levels of the Twilight starts to get agitated. The energy is stabilised at a higher level. You can calculate it using the Boltzmann Distribution, the whole process is almost identical to thermodynamic equations, you can even use Planck’s Constant – only for the twilight it’s called the Canterbury Constant.’
I suddenly realised that I was sitting there with my mouth wide open, holding a fork with a piece of fried egg suspended on it. I hurriedly clamped my mouth shut, biting the fork painfully, and swore in a whisper.
‘It’s the standard process for the appearance of ghosts,’ Arina continued. ‘Don’t the Light Ones teach that these days?’
‘No,’ I admitted. ‘And the Dark Ones don’t, either … probably.’
‘Well, they should,’ said Arina. ‘It’s no practical use at all, but surely you must be interested in where phantoms come from, the life of the Twilight, which spells will be most effective at what point in space?’
‘I didn’t even know it was possible …’ – I hesitated – ‘… to reduce it all to formulas.’
‘But Witches have always known that,’ Arina told me. ‘Surely you don’t think that Witches are dirty old women who boil up unappetising substances in cauldrons and mutter “by the pricking of my thumbs …”?’
I thought it best not to say anything. Arina drank her coffee, clearly savouring the situation.
‘Well, what have you decided?’ she asked insistently.
‘The mere fact that I’m talking to you without trying to arrest you is official misconduct,’ I said gruffly.
Arina snorted.
‘Swear on the Light and the Darkness,’ I said.
Arina raised her eyes to look at me.
‘Swear that you had nothing to do with the dream I had last night,’ I went on.
‘So things are that bad, are they?’ Arina said, with an understanding nod. ‘All right …’
She said nothing for a few seconds, as if she was trying to recall something. Then she reached her hands out across the table and turned them palms upwards.
I was scalded by a chilly breath of wind.
The few other hotel guests all turned away and diligently stopped noticing us.
‘I, Arina, swear on the primordial Powers. I, a Dark One Beyond Classification, swear on the Darkness – and may the eternal Darkness bear witness to my words. I, a Light One and Healer Beyond Classification, swear on the Light – and may the eternal Light bear witness to my words. I, the thirteenth and final Head of the Supreme Conclave of Witches, do swear on the earth from which I came, the water that is within me, the air that surrounds me, the fire into which I shall depart. I have not exerted any influence on you, your powers, your prophecies, your thoughts, your visions, your desires, your fears, your love, your hate, your joy and your sorrow. All that I have said to you is true or I believe it to be true.’
A white flame started dancing on her left palm, a spot of darkness condensed on her right. Arina brought her palms close together – and a small sphere started spinning furiously between them. It was white and black at the same time, it glowed brightly and consumed light simultaneously. It wasn’t grey, like the Inquisitors had, but dual, simultaneously Light and Dark.
‘I believe you and accept your oath,’ I said.
The small sphere shrank to a blindingly black point and disappeared.
‘So, Head of the Supreme Conclave,’ I mused. ‘And the Watches tried so hard to guess who that was and where she had disappeared to …’
Arina shrugged.
‘I’m simply choosing the lesser evil,’ I added.
‘Even when choosing the lesser evil, never forget that you’re still choosing evil,’ Arina said seriously.
‘But in choosing nothing, we choose both the greater and the lesser evil at once,’ I replied.
‘Then we understand each other,’ she said, nodding – the final Supreme Witch of the Conclave that had been disbanded a hundred years earlier.
‘But that still leaves one little problem,’ I said. ‘The Tiger. As I understand it, the prophecies are not active at the moment.’
‘They’re sleeping,’ said Arina.
‘If we learn what they are – the Tiger will come for us.’
‘But if we reveal them to humans – the Tiger will leave us in peace.’
‘And what if the prophecies are bad? Are you suggesting we should die a heroic death? Or open Pandora’s box, and to hell with human beings?’
‘No and no again. Witches have always preferred to choose a third way.’
I looked at her questioningly.
‘We have tried to understand the nature of the Tiger,’ said Arina. ‘As you have no doubt already realised, in certain areas the Conclave possessed knowledge that equalled the knowledge of the Watches. We did not succeed, but …’ She paused. ‘We did find an Other who knows how to defeat the Tiger. He is still alive. I suggest that we meet him, to obtain this information – and open the prophecies after that.’
I sat there for a while, digesting what I’d just heard. Then I asked: ‘Where is he? Somehow I get the feeling it’s not London and not Moscow.’
‘Formosa,’ Arina said, nodding.
It took me a few seconds to recall what used to be called Formosa in Arina’s time.
‘Taiwan?’ The globe that I had given Nadya a year earlier to further her general education appeared in front of my eyes. ‘That’s … How far is that?’
‘Almost ten thousand kilometres. Fourteen hours. Fortunately, there’s a direct flight,’ said Arina, looking at her watch, an elegant timepiece of pink gold – probably with a diamond mechanism, I thought. ‘It’s half past seven now. The flight’s in one hour and forty minutes. Do you need long to pack?