Juicios Evaluativos Estructura Curricular

Methodius made out a sealed envelope in Ares’ hands. The chief of the Russian division of Gloom had already taken a silver letter-opener to it and, after lifting the seal with it, opened the envelope. From the envelope he pulled out a fine, wonderfully

produced piece of parchment, the large birthmark on the outer side of which clearly testified to what skin it was prepared from. After taking the parchment, Ares stared at it.

Methodius did not know what precisely he expected to see there, but Ares’ face suddenly became sullen. Wrinkles ran across the middle of his forehead. “What has Ligul written?”

Julitta asked. Instead of an answer, Ares showed them the parchment. They saw that the parchment was completely clean. Now uneasiness also appeared on Julitta’s face. “Is it true that there is nothing on this sheet or do I simply not see it?” Methodius asked. “You see well enough. It’s actually clean,” said Ares. “So clean that it can be considered a clean object altogether, delivered from Tartarus and only visited Ligul’s hands,” Julitta, independent in her own judgments, specified.

“Eh-eh… What nonsense! Most likely the secretary put the wrong sheet in the envelope. That happens fairly often with botched correspondence,” assumed Methodius.

Several times he had to send trivial requests to Tartarus and imagined what a confusion of papers reigned there. Just to find an already signed document among the pile of papers on his own desk, an eighth-rank clerk can spend about ten years, even then only if you breathe down his neck all the time — otherwise even the lifetime of the Universe will not be enough to get the ball rolling. Ares shook his head, “Ligul’s Chancellery doesn’t make mistakes. The Chancellery of Records Management — yes. It regularly mixes up papers, reward lists, and service records. This almost always happens with retrieval from archives, but Ligul’s Chancellery making a mistake — won’t happen. If they sent a clean sheet to us, it means that Ligul himself wished it so. Or, take it higher, Faceless Kvodnon doing this through Ligul. Kvodnon nevertheless has a certain connection with Ligul, I think… But, again, I won’t guarantee this.” “But why did he order sending us a clean sheet?”

Ares impatiently snapped his fingers. While Methodius was pondering what this indicated, the window was thrown open. Into the room flew a large, beautiful serving plate with a turkey stuffed with nuts and prunes. The turkey emitted a delicate aroma, tickling the nose and evoking saucy and frivolous thoughts. The parsley ruffles on the turkey breast appeared shredded, and a fork was sticking out on the side, meaning that some restaurant regular had been deprived of a turkey, which he had ordered, right from under his nose. Possibly, the starving baron of Gloom precisely felt his gastronomic vibrations and, not being able to control himself, teleported his supper. “Don’t pay any attention, Met. Now and then food helps me think,” said Ares, pulling the dish to himself.

“So, your question… Mm-eh… We’ll answer it this way. Depending on the specific case, a clean sheet sent in this manner can have different shades of meaning in Tartarus.

It’s a warning, perplexity, disappointment, impatience, encouragement to action, and a thousand more different interpretations.” “And what message did Ligul want to send in this case?” Methodius asked. “Nothing. Our gnome loves to fog up the truth. He fogs up, keeps in suspense, confuses everybody, likely dissatisfied, and you sit — and settle down, know your place,” muttered Julitta. “Watch it, Julitta, you’ll get in trouble! And don’t you eavesdrop! Cover up your ears!” Ares muttered, with the fork threatening the portrait of the hunchback. “Look, Met, if this has to do with you scheming with guards of Light and keepers from the Spheres, and heaven knows where they come from, then I’ll grind you into… mm-eh… well, you understand what I’ll do with you.”

Methodius looked sideways at Julitta. She was standing with this innocent and almost holy face that would even be clear to a fool: she had already made a slip of the tongue to

Ares about their trip today to the taxidermist, the fight with the grave-diggers, and about Essiorh. And once this is known to Ares, then possibly Ligul also knows. After all, the city is full of agents darting about and succubae smiling nastily. “Yes, Met, Ligul already knows everything… You shouldn’t suppose that he became the head of the Chancellery only because he swung a sabre more than anyone after the loss of Kvodnon,” Ares nodded, reading his thoughts with such ease, as if they were simply tattooed on Methodius’ forehead.

The baron of Gloom continued to devour the turkey. He had long since put the fork aside and was helping himself with the dagger. “Well now,” he said, flinging away to the corner a gnawed turkey leg. “It’s time to drive an aspen stake into the chest of his illusions! I have a feeling that soon — in the next day or two — everything should be decided.” “So soon?” Met asked. “Why not? Someone stole the Scroll of Desires from the box at that moment, when we were competing in muddle-headedness with the guards of Light. Furthermore, this same someone tricked you and, after forcing you to fight with gravediggers, imprinted Julitta’s darc on the stolen Scroll. Otherwise why arrange this farce with bats — I can’t find an explanation.”

“This is all because of the Scroll of Desires?” Methodius surmised. “Now and then, Signor Tomato, you move me with your naiveté! Stands to reason. The entire matter is the Scroll, which someone clearly took in his own interests and not in the interests of either Light or Gloom.” “And?” “Think for yourself. He has had the Scroll for a while already, but he still hasn’t written his desire nor burned it. Why? He did not find a birch log? Hardly. There can only be one explanation. This is a desire to attempt to influence further the fates of Tartarus and Eden. And if so, then one scroll is too small. Its kidnapper must secure the mystical support of all participating parties. At least the magic demands justice formally. Here we’re encroaching upon the region of the very delicate interrelations of good and evil.” “Such exist?” Methodius had his doubts. Ares smirked, showing yellowish, wide teeth. “If not, then why the heck are you so carried away by the sight of Daph? And it’ll be known to you, before the desire is written and the Scroll thrown into the fire, it is necessary to imprint on the Scroll the wings of a guard of Light, a darc of Gloom, and the eidos of a person, free in his choice. It’s unimportant whether this happens of one’s free will or by deception. Such finesse hardly bothers the universe…”

“Fine. The darc is imprinted. I blundered. But the wings of a guard of Light?” Julitta asked. “A moment!” Hardly concerned about his greasy fingers, Ares opened a drawer and threw a photograph onto the table. The photograph did not turn out too well.

Someone took it in a hurry, through a window. From the blinds, the calendar with races and, mainly, from the very look of the room, Methodius understood whose apartment this was. Beyond the window was a man with a tainted bald patch, similar to a peach overgrown with black fur. He was blurred visually. Partly because the photograph was badly taken, partly because even in the magic photograph baldy tried to turn his back to it and shield himself with his hands. An angry Ares brought the photograph to the candle, and it flared up. The man rushed about in the photograph and disappeared in the smoke, never showing his face. “Stubborn as before. Well… All the same sooner or later the meeting under the clock will take place…,” muttered Ares.

He knew. His pupils narrowed. They became like small piercing points. The hatred, which the swordsman of Gloom experienced towards the balding person, was tangible.

Methodius could easily absorb it, but did not do so. He clearly sensed that hatred, even a stranger’s, was like acid, capable of corroding his soul. “For anyone who doesn’t know, remember: this is Yaraat,” Ares said tonelessly. “He was in Daph’s room. One of the agents turned out to be nearby and had time to take a picture… Unfortunately, the photo came to me after a delay. The agent first directed his plasticine paws to Ligul and only then to me. A reprimand has already been brought to him in person. I’d even say: pressed onto him.” Ares looked sadly at his powerful fist.

“Do they follow Daph? Where did this agent come from?” Methodius asked. “Of course they follow her. Gloom has too much of the low rank. Everyone must find something to do. Do you really think that Gloom will leave Daph alone?” “It won’t,”

quietly said Methodius. Buslaev already felt this long ago, but was afraid to voice it so that the words would not have substance. But they have materialized. This, alas, is fact.

“What went on with you and Yaraat then? What brought on the hatred?” he asked.

Methodius knew that the questions were a risk. He did not expect Ares to answer him, and was even prepared for a flash of anger. However, Ares answered, “A story of friendship, a story of treachery, a story of death. These stories are frequently interwoven.

And indeed once Yaraat and I were friends… As soon as I recall that I trusted this rat, I want to take this dagger here, cut out my own heart, and trample it with my feet,” Ares said slowly and distinctly. He looked up and stared gravely at Methodius. “And now you want, of course, to know how everything was? From the beginning to the end? The so-called details are always important to you, a former moronoid. Little sense to you otherwise. Isn’t it so?” Methodius kept silent. Intuition prompted that it would be better not to speak up now. And he was not mistaken.

Ares continued, “A guard of Gloom doesn’t have the right to love or to have ties. The only thing allowed us is to experience passions, even the most monstrous. This law is immutable. The rest of the laws are broken in Tartarus quite easily and without special consequences. After all, the aphorism ‘Innocent until proven guilty’ is our aphorism. Do anything nasty, but no noise and no dust. However, the ban to love and to have ties is extremely strict. I would say, precisely, Tartarus, this institution dearest in every respect, stands on the ban to love.” “But Indeed…” “Don’t interrupt! Love erodes absolute evil. It undermines the foundations. It makes a guard flabby and half-hearted. It opens a window for good, which searches for any crack in order to filter through. Indeed if you love — actually love and not simply lust and use — good wouldn’t manage without this!

Immediately self-sacrifice, tender emotions, and all sorts of related trash will turn up. As a result you’ve simply converted the destructive sword of Gloom into a rusty piece of iron, which will break in the first battle.”

Ares’ crooked fingers scratched the table twice. His voice, however, remained the same: measured, cold. “And a couple of refinements. If a guard of Gloom falls in love with a witch from the Bald Mountain or a female guard (you’ll understand this in a year or two, we have some devilishly attractive ones), it’s a small loss. They’ll turn a blind eye to this. Most likely, your love will become ordinary passion, and generally afterwards will even dissolve like a drop of blood in the sea… Another important thing to remember! A guard of Gloom doesn’t have the right to fall in love with a mortal, in whose chest is the still unclaimed eidos. Before anything, he must take away this eidos and transfer it to Gloom. He doesn’t even have the right to put the eidos into his own darc, if it’ll mingle with this lowdown feeling there. Who knows, possibly, sooner or later

he’ll face the temptation to free the eidos and return it to its owner, and this would indeed be an insult to Gloom.”

“So, it’s forbidden to love mortals with eide. Why?” Methodius did not understand.

“Because there is a light in an unclaimed eidos. It lives in the eidos even in the worst, the most soiled, petty, nasty acts! It glimmers like a candle till the very end, and its fire will devour Tartarus!” Ares snapped. “And a second, fundamental thing: a guard of Gloom has no right to fall in love with a guard of Light. The punishment for this is the most severe. You’re deprived of your essence, leaving only pain and fear… But it’s better for you not to know this. Three times a fool is the one who hurries to rid himself of childish and youthful illusions. Under them is usually rotting meat. Obedient, quivering, such as this! Now you’ll understand how it is! Hey you, move!” Obeying Ares’ terrible look, the half-gnawed turkey, helping itself with its wings, scratching the tabletop with the bone of the intact leg, crawled to the edge of the table, leaving on the polish a greasy trail of sauce. It was a painful and unpleasant sight. After pushing off for the last time, the turkey fell down heavily. “Did you see? This meat has lost everything. It has no future, no past, no eternity; it’s half-gnawed and nevertheless fears. This is what fear is. Its essence, its roots, its laws — distorted,” Ares said and became silent.

“That’s what happened with you and Yaraat?” Methodius reminded him. Ares looked at the dusty cracked glass close to the scaffolding wrapped in construction netting. Having taken up new residence at 13 Dmitrovka, the swordsman of Gloom did not take pains to put his office in at least a resemblance of order. And despite that he could do this just by snapping his fingers. But somehow it was not managed here.

“The story is simple. I fell in love with a mortal and, after breaking all rules, preserved her eidos. A daughter was born. Also with eidos, bright and beautiful — to me, a guard of Gloom, who sucks in strangers’ eide like a black hole! Trust me, anyone who knows magic will tell you: a child for a guard of Gloom — this is the greatest miracle. We by nature are empty and barren. I hid my wife and daughter for long enough. Hid them from everyone, very ingeniously, with great imagination. The Chancellery of Gloom knew nothing. But then one of the agents sniffed it out and reported it before I had time to spread his plasticine brain on the nearest wall. These vile agents are everywhere. There are myriads of them in this guilty world. They began to pursue us. Our situation became extremely difficult. They searched for us, they arranged a real roundup. And a roundup of Gloom — this really means something! I myself would hide thousands of times, at least for a century, but to hide two mortals — woman and child — is monstrously difficult!

Especially when a multitude of spirits is put on the search. And then came the moment, when they drove us into a corner…”

Ares’ hand grasped the handle of the dagger so tightly that his fingers had turned white.

Julitta was listening, almost not breathing, although this story was probably already known to her. Methodius noticed that Ligul the hunchback had skipped off the portrait and in complete panic was breathing heavily somewhere behind the frame, not having the ability to flee from the canvas. “Likely he also knows what happened next,” thought Methodius.

“We hid in the attic of an abandoned shack in one tiny town. It was late fall. The child cried and coughed. She had caught a cold. The day before we had been in the rain, when we worked our way through a swamp. I couldn’t use magic: they would immediately have discovered us. Pursuers were already everywhere. While they were just spirits and

agents, I knew that as soon as they had succeeded in sniffing out something, guards would appear. And then I decided that the most reasonable thing would be to distract the pursuit, lead it away after myself. Alone I’d throw them off, make short work of anyone who crossed my path, and then return. But I had decided not to leave the two of them. I needed someone possessing magic who would protect them in my absence. Who wouldn’t allow a single agent to thrust his soft nose into our sanctuary. And I summoned the one whom, so it seemed to me, I could trust…”

“Yaraat?” “Yes, him,” Ares said through clenched teeth. “Yaraat was outside the law.

A thief, an abductor of artefacts. Both Light and Gloom searched for him. But I liked him. I repeatedly sheltered him and thought that I could count on him for reciprocal service.”

“And he came?” “Yes. Yaraat immediately appeared, as soon as I traced the first rune of the secret call. He was nice, merry, romantic, and he joked. In the filthy shack, dirty water flowing from the roof, drafts through all the cracks, he seemed like an angel. I wrapped my daughter in a raincoat, said something encouraging to my wife… I trusted him, asked Yaraat to remain with them, and left with a calm mind, taking with me only the sword without the scabbard. I held it in a lowered hand and went along the central street. On the outskirts, I caught the eyes of agents. I cut one down; the rest, it goes without saying, slipped away and called the guards. They teleported that same minute.

There were about twenty of them. This I was also striving for. I led the pursuit after myself through the swamp for a long time, chopping off heads and darc of the most zealous, thereby they rushed at me like dogs to a wolf. It turned out to be such little surprise. The majority, and the runt Ligul among them...,” Ares cast a furious glance at the empty portrait, “preferred not to butt in and let others advance. Finally, they left me alone and took off, threatening to get even for everything later. I understood that I had won. When a dog barks, it’ll no longer bite. And here after two days I returned to the same little town, to the same courtyard. I went up to the attic along the same squeaky steps and found no one there.” Ares started to breathe heavily and nosily. A strange

There were about twenty of them. This I was also striving for. I led the pursuit after myself through the swamp for a long time, chopping off heads and darc of the most zealous, thereby they rushed at me like dogs to a wolf. It turned out to be such little surprise. The majority, and the runt Ligul among them...,” Ares cast a furious glance at the empty portrait, “preferred not to butt in and let others advance. Finally, they left me alone and took off, threatening to get even for everything later. I understood that I had won. When a dog barks, it’ll no longer bite. And here after two days I returned to the same little town, to the same courtyard. I went up to the attic along the same squeaky steps and found no one there.” Ares started to breathe heavily and nosily. A strange