Vladimir Orlov - Danilov the Violist

"Report," Danilov said quickly and looked around.

"Sure," Ugrael said, and it seemed to Danilov that he was mocking him, saying, I know what you're really here for.

"Have you been here long?" Danilov asked.

"Quite a while. I've been summoned."

"For a pleasant reason, if it's not a secret?"

"A good reason," Ugrael said importantly.

At that instant, Karmadon set his glass of black liquid on the table and turned his head. Danilov now saw the right side of his face, which had been out of sight. It was all twisted, as if Karmadon had had a stroke. "What an unpleasant grimace!" thought Danilov and even grew sad. He knew why Karmadon's face was like that, but he had assumed that it would have been corrected. Karmadon turned away, apparently without noticing Danilov.

"He's suffering," Ugrael said, almost with pleasure.

"Who?" Danilov asked.

"Karmadon. Look how his face is twisted."

"Maybe that was part of his assignment?"

"Assignment!" Ugrael laughed. "If it had happened on assignment, it would have been treated a long time ago! Look where they've sent him instead! He's even started frequenting this dump, and he's a former ace!"

"Where?"

"Where what?"

"Where did they send him?"

"Are you kidding? Are you pulling my leg? Everyone knows. And you two used to be pals."

"I just got in from Moscow."

"From Moscow!" Ugrael laughed again.

"From Moscow," Danilov said grimly and firmly.

"And so you don't know that Karmadon was kicked out of the aces and sent to a microcosmos on an elementary particle?"

"No, I didn't know," Danilov said sincerely.

"Well, they did."

"Well, the work there is important, too," Danilov said after some thought. "Complex work ..."

"It's complex, all right," Ugrael said. "But you're putting me on?"

"No, really ... Karmadon and I aren't as close as we used to be in our youth. I just saw him now. I didn't even know he was in the Nine Layers. I don't know the demons he is with. I didn't want to interrupt. But I was shocked by his appearance. What happened to him?"

"Why am I justifying myself to him?" Danilov scolded himself. He realized he shouldn't be questioning (and lying, in the bargain) a chance acquaintance who had been summoned for some reason to the Nine Layers from the Arabian desert, about Karmadon's misfortunes, but Danilov could not help himself. There was mockery in Ugrael's eyes again. He seemed to be implying -- I know that you really know.

"I'm not too well informed myself," Ugrael said. "Who am I? Small fry ... or used to be."

He stressed the past tense and looked meaningfully at Danilov. Ugrael had probably come here in hopes of being promoted, and his hopes had been encouraged, and he was bursting with pride, hinting about it even to Danilov.

"I only know what I've heard. And what is that? Rumors. Gossip. Apparently Karmadon had a romance... you know

... idyllic ... but he blew it. That's when it happened to his face. And you know that in cases like that the wounds and damage are not repaired... Besides, they say that Karma-don broke the rules -- that is, dishonored himself. His friends and family couldn't do anything for him. A loser, dishonored. Now he's a demon of the tenth clause."

"The tenth?" Danilov couldn't believe it.

"The tenth. And he works on an elementary particle."

A bottle of ginger vodka and a plate of pieces of dried bamboo appeared before Ugrael. "He must be tired of Arabian foods," thought Danilov. Ugrael offered Danilov some vodka, but Danilov thanked him politely and called for another mug of beer.

"And they say," Ugrael continued, "that he did not appeal. How could he? But it's a shame! ... All for some woman."

Here Ugrael's left eye moved to the corner of his mouth, widened, and stared at Danilov with anticipation. Perhaps he expected frankness from Danilov.

"Yes," Danilov said, "a sad story."

Ugrael's eye returned to its proper place and looked modestly into the shot glass. This little demon in a burnoose knew much, obviously. If he knew about the woman, he must have heard about Danilov's role in Karmadon's adventure. Right now he was playing (perhaps with an ulterior motive) at being a naive provincial. But what if Danilov were wrong?

"How are things in Moscow?" Ugrael asked.

"What are you interested in?"

"Many things interest me," Ugrael said. "The climate, lifestyle, drinking, smoking ..."

He broke off, as if he were afraid. Danilov looked at Ugrael with curiosity. Why was he so interested in Moscow?

"Compared to the Arabian deserts, Moscow is cool," Danilov said. "It's not far from the Arctic Ocean -- "

"Yes, yes, I know," Ugrael said quickly.

"As for smoking ... what in particular? Cigarettes, cigars, pipe tobacco? Or marijuana?"

"No, I was just chatting..." Ugrael was embarrassed. "I don't smoke... Excuse me, I'm running late." He got up. "I wish you a good report."

"Thanks." Danilov nodded coldly.

"Perhaps we'll meet again. Perhaps not." Ugrael's ears crawled over his eyes. He gave Danilov an unpleasant, perhaps an evil look. And then he vanished.

"What if he really does know something?" Danilov thought worriedly. "He was putting me on. Why was he asking about Moscow? I don't think it was out of politeness... At least he wasn't interested in my orchestra." Danilov's mood was spoiled by Ugrael's farewell grimace.

Danilov transferred the irritation aroused by Ugrael to Karmadon. Danilov wanted to do something that would get Karmadon's attention. Danilov was being boorish -- he was following hops with cognac (almost as a protest). And staring meanly at Karmadon's table.

Karmadon turned. He was saying something to his friends, making a point, and when he turned, he froze. When he came to his senses, he shifted his chair so that his back was to Danilov, and went on talking.

Danilov had no doubt that Karmadon had seen him. The demons with Karmadon had noticed him, too. They kept looking over at him. But they probably weren't talking about him with Karmadon.

Karmadon did not turn around again. Danilov was nervous. He set aside his cognac. Everything in the diner irritated him. "He does not deign to notice me! He will not express scorn, or anger, or hurt. Of course not! So! He's an aristocrat, even though he's humiliated and demoted; he's still a demon of the main succession!"

Something was about to push Danilov into a fight, an absolutely meaningless fight that certainly would harm him -- a disgusting, brawling sort of fight (Danilov sensed that), an hysterical fight accompanied by the breaking of dishes. "I'll go over to him!" Danilov was working himself up. "I'll demand an explanation of the whereabouts of Sinezud and Bek Leonovich..."

The thought of Bek Leonovich came just in time, and Danilov latched on to it. He now convinced himself that it was precisely because of Bek Leonovich that he was determined to go over to Karmadon.

"Excuse me, but I must speak to you..."

Karmadon pretended not to see Danilov, but his tablemates watched Danilov with interest, perhaps with the expectation of a spectacle.

"Unfortunately, I am forced to violate the rules of propriety..."

"Are you addressing us as a group," a demon with red ears and a beret asked Danilov, "or do you have one of us specifically in mind?"

"I want to ask Karmadon a question, and it is his right to decide whether he wants to hear me out in company or in privacy."

"I don't care," Karmadon said.

"Where is Bek Leonovich?"

"Who?"

" Bek Leonovich. The house spirit from Ostankino."

"Oh," Karmadon recalled, and immediately said superciliously, "Unfortunately, I cannot satisfy your curiosity in any way."

"But he was sent in a direction known only to you. And you sent him... I had given him a guarantee of safety. He should be returned..."