New Watch

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  These young guys had checked everything but had not found anything, although they had special instruments that I’d only seen in the movies, capable of identifying any memory card at a distance even if it wasn’t plugged into anything. I had thanked them—they’d found a couple of flash sticks that I’d lost around the flat a long time ago . . .

  But they didn’t find the prophecy.

  Naturally. I hadn’t made a copy on an electronic medium. I’m not an idiot.

  I opened the drawer of the sideboard, crammed with all sorts of old electronic junk, and took out an old Sony minidisc player. A dead-end branch in the development of electronics, the kind of thing that no one uses now except people who are especially fond of shocking the public (or who are exceptionally thrifty). The battery in it had died a long time ago.

  But there was a separate container that could be attached, and I stuck a battery in that, then screwed the container to the player (all fair and square, a sound, reliable screw, not some kind of flimsy clip-on fastening) and pressed the play button. Vysotsky’s hoarse voice started sounding in my earphones:

  In remote Murom’s dark, secret, forested parts,

  Evil spirits sow fear in all travellers” hearts.

  Like wandering corpses, they wail and they howl,

  And the birds there don’t sing, they mutter and growl.

  Oh, it’s dark and creepy lost in the murk!

  In enchanted swamps female hobgoblins lurk,

  They’ll grab you and drag you down out of sight.

  Fierce wood demons wander the woods day and night.

  On foot or on horseback, they’ll give you a fright

  Oh, it’s dark and creepy lost in the murk!

  Once lost in that deep forest gloom,

  Peasant, merchant, or soldier brave,

  Drunk or sober, they are all doomed

  And there’s no way they can be saved.

  Whatever reason brings them there

  They all simply vanish into empty air . . .

  I didn’t really have to listen, but I did. Right to the end of the song. To the final couplet.

  The spirits fought a battle that ended it all,

  They all fought to the death, as old graybeards recall,

  And that was what made the dread disappear.

  Now people go to the forest with nothing to fear

  And now it’s not dark and creepy at all!

  Then I pressed the stop button and glanced round furtively. The doors of the bedroom and the nursery were closed. Naturally, I couldn’t check the Twilight right now, but our home was surrounded by such powerful defensive spells that even Gesar and Zabulon working together would have taken hours to break through them. The spells were an entitlement of my rank—and since Nadya lived here . . .

  Did I want to hear the prophecy?

  I knew now for certain that it existed. Arina had said as much. There was no point in hoping that Kesha hadn’t pressed the button on the toy phone. Or that the prophecy was about the price of oil or the presidential elections . . .

  I sighed, closed my eyes, and pressed the button.

  Silence. With crackling, like from an old-fashioned record.

  “You are Anton Gorodetsky, Higher Light Magician . . .” a childish voice said quietly. My hands started trembling as they clutched the minidisc player—someone wasn’t just walking over my grave, they were dancing jigs and reels on it. “Because of you . . . all of us will be released . . .”

  Released? What did that mean?

  “The Tiger’s coming, the Tiger’s coming, the Tiger’s coming,” said Kesha, suddenly speaking rapidly, almost incoherently . . . “A long time. A long, long time . . . Nadya Gorodetskaya! Nadya can do it, Nadya can . . .”

  I actually jerked up off my chair when the hasty muttering was interrupted by my daughter’s name.

  “You can’t divide anything by zero, you can’t divide anything by zero . . .” the voice reminded me, like the feverish ravings of some star pupil. “Anything multiplied by zero is zero, anything multiplied . . . Kill the Tiger! Kill the Tiger and you kill the Twilight! Kill the Tig—”

  The recording came to an end. The toy phone only had a small memory chip.

  A few seconds of silence—and Vysotsky started singing again in midline . . .

  In a strange country everything’s queer,

  You could get lost, you could just disappear.

  It can raise goose bumps thinking too long

  About all the strange things that could go wrong.

  The ground cracks apart, raising a doubt:

  Will you leap boldly, or just chicken out?

  And that’s the basic complication

  Of such a tricky situation.

  I took off the headphones, turned the player off, and tossed it back into the drawer.

  Basically, I’d understood quite a lot.

  “The Tiger’s coming, the Tiger’s coming for you . . .” No comment required.

  “The Twilight is falling asleep . . . not enough Power, not enough, not enough . . . the prophecies have been waiting . . . A long time. A long, long time.” The Twilight was short of Power? That was kind of strange. Was there really not enough grief and joy in the world? Well—let’s just accept it. “The prophecies have been waiting . . .” Which prophecies did that mean? The one that Wen-yan had not made known? The one that Arina had “retarded”? Possibly.

  I imagined the flood of emotions that would be precipitated by the destruction of Russia—or China . . . It wouldn’t be a momentary thing, it would last for years, decades. It would be insanity. The world was imperfect enough already, it was full of conflicts, torn apart by small wars and global crises. And even if peace and prosperity were established throughout the world, human beings were such brutes, they’d always find some reason to suffer!

  Well, okay, let’s accept that the Twilight is short of incoming Power. Assume that’s a fact.

  “Nadya can . . . You can’t divide by zero, you can’t divide by zero . . . Anything multiplied by zero is zero, anything multiplied by zero . . .” I thought I understood what this meant, too. Nadya was a Zero-Level Enchantress. An Absolute Enchantress. In theory there were no limits to her power. Of course, she didn’t really understand how to control it . . . but that was only a matter of practice.

  What did “you can’t divide by zero” mean? Not in mathematics, but in this particular case? And what did “anything multiplied by zero is zero” mean?

  I looked at the closed doors of the nursery and the bedroom again. I crept out into the hallway, feeling like a criminal, and took the cigarettes and the lighter off the shelf. I don’t smoke at home, not even on the balcony—but I had just realized that I really needed a smoke now. I pulled on my anorak, went out onto the balcony, and closed the door firmly behind me. I lit up and launched a thin stream of smoke into the night sky.

  Who were the Others?

  Rational beings, capable of using Power.

  The Twilight, with the Tiger as its embodiment, was also a rational entity, capable of using Power.

  Different in kind, but also a rational being . . .

  Who was the most powerful Other?

  Nadya was the most powerful. A Zero-Level Enchantress.

  And the Twilight was also zero-level.

  The terms “stronger” and “weaker” were inapplicable here. Even among the Great Ones, whose Power could not meaningfully be measured, there were some differences in the level of Power, and that was why those who invented the most cunning spells, used them more quickly and struck at unexpected points were vic-torious. But the Power of the Twilight and Nadya’s Power were identical. The Twilight possessed all the Power that flowed into it. And Nadya, in some miraculous way, was also capable of controlling all the Power in the world.

  Could the Twilight destroy Nadya?

  Could Nadya destroy the Twilight?

  That was the question.

  And to judge from the words of the prophecy, she could.


  “Kill the Tiger and you kill the Twilight!”

  You can’t divide by zero—the Twilight couldn’t destroy Nadya. It seemed that that was physically impossible. And I was very glad about that.

  If you multiply anything by zero, the result is zero.

  What did that mean? That Nadya was capable of destroying the Twilight? And what would happen to her if she did? Would she be killed too? Or lose her magical abilities?

  I didn’t want that for my daughter.

  That was the whole picture. I wasn’t going to reveal the prophecy. And I was going to destroy the recording.

  What about the Tiger?

  He wouldn’t come for me. It wasn’t in his interest, he didn’t want the prophecy to be made known to humans. That was what he had said himself. But I wouldn’t tell anyone, and he ought to understand that. I couldn’t vouch for Arina, but the Tiger could take care of her . . .

  I finished my cigarette and flung the butt off the balcony in a slovenly gesture. I followed its flight down from the seventh floor—the small dot of fire sliced through the darkness until it was lost to view in the circle of light round a street lamp.

  Right at the feet of the man standing there . . .

  I grabbed hold of the railing as I looked down. At the young man in a light-colored raincoat. At the Tiger looking up at me.

  The Tiger raised his hand and waved to me, either in greeting or farewell. Then he turned and walked away into the darkness.

  I took out another cigarette, then put it back in the pack. I went back into the flat, hung up my anorak, rinsed out my mouth in the bathroom so as not to stink of tobacco, and sneaked quietly into the bedroom. Svetlana was sleeping. I lay down and fell asleep too—easily and perfectly calmly.

  Chapter 5

  FROM EARLY MORNING THOSE MYSTICAL FORCES RESPONSIBLE for the roads of Moscow (forces that seem more mysterious to me than any Tiger) were well-disposed. I slipped out easily onto the Third Ring Road, and the traffic on it was moving at a lively pace. In the direction I needed, of course—all the cars going in the other direction were barely crawling along—but that was the usual way of things.

  I moved into the left lane and switched on the radio. First my heart was gladdened by a strident song with the chorus: “Young teen fluff-head. She’s a lame-brain child.” Another station was broadcasting an interview with an opposition politician who was abusing the authorities in almost obscene language and claiming there was no free speech in the country. As a matter of fact, in any country with a culture of free speech, at the end of that broadcast the politician would have been served with a summons for slander, defamation of character and insinuation. So I carried on wandering through the Moscow airwaves until I came to rest at a station that was broadcasting foreign popular music.

  “Turn it down a bit, Anton,” a voice said behind me.

  I squinted at the rearview mirror. Yes, real skill didn’t depend on age. Skill like teleporting into a moving car that was protected, and doing it completely unnoticed . . .

  “Arina, I didn’t invite you.”

  “But you listened to the prophecy,” said the witch, stating a fact.

  “Of course. You’re very persuasive.”

  “And?”

  “And nothing.”

  Arina paused. Then she said ingratiatingly: “Do you understand what this prophecy is about? Your daughter can destroy the Tiger.”

  “And the Twilight,” I said. “A wonderful prospect.”

  Arina tossed her head angrily.

  “Anton! Come to your senses! You know about the prophecy that I tried to prevent from happening . . .”

  “I know that if through some incredible disaster the Twilight is destroyed,” I said, keeping my eyes on the road, “then all our Power will be reduced to nothing. It will drain off into the void—or remain in this world . . . that’s not important. But we will no longer be able to heal people, to protect them . . .”

  “As if we really healed them and protected them very much anyway,” Arina said. Not scathingly, more sadly.

  “We do what we can,” I said, shrugging. “Perhaps it’s not for a former Dark One and Witches’ leader to reproach the Night Watch on that score?”

  “Ah yes, I’m a well-known Baba Yaga,” Arina snickered. “I used to eat little Ivans for supper and send the swan-geese off to plunder and loot.”

  “I’m not claiming that,” I said soberly. “I’m even prepared to concede that you personally scrubbed down fine young heroes in the bathhouse and inspired them for the battle against evil.”

  Arina laughed unexpectedly. “You know, you’re right! That did happen a couple of times . . .”

  “But like any witch, you worked both good and evil,” I continued. “And without distinction. But I try to stick to good. So don’t go reproaching me.”

  “I’m not reproaching you,” Arina said with surprising meekness. “But you’ve heard the prophecy, haven’t you? The Twilight is short of Power. Power is produced by human emotions. Life has clearly become too calm . . .”

  “Oh, it’s really calm!” I exclaimed. “Not a day goes by without a new war. And there’s no problem with sex in the world, either. The consumer society consumes, the Third World fights battles, ships sink, typhoons rage and roar, power stations explode—the world’s awash with emotions. And there’s Hollywood trying its best, too: people certainly aren’t short of spectacles.”

  “So it means that isn’t enough,” Arina said stubbornly. “It means that the way everything’s going doesn’t suit the Twilight. It wants major upheavals. The downfall of kingdoms, mass human migrations, holocausts and apocalypses . . .”

  “And what has that got to do with us?”

  “If I understand correctly, Fan Wen-yan refused to promulgate a prophecy that would have destroyed China as a unified power,” said Arina. “I did something similar with a prophecy about Russia. Unfortunately”—a note of genuine sorrow appeared in her voice—“I didn’t have the wits to die and halt the prophecy completely. I only delayed it. But the Twilight needs Power. And it will get it—when our country perishes.”

  “That’s your opinion,” I said. “I don’t think that sort of thing happens because of causes that are . . . let’s call them mystical. It’s not the invention of the miniskirt, you know! Gesar believes that you really did change the prophecy, and that’s why everything foretold in it has already happened—but in a mild form. The revolutions, and the occupations . . .”

  “I wish I could agree with the old intriguer,” said Arina. “But where’s the guarantee?”

  “Where’s the guarantee that Nadya can destroy the Tiger?” I asked. “The incoherent exclamations of a third-year schoolboy? Highly convincing! And what will happen if the Twilight is killed? Will magic simply disappear? Or will it be the end of life on Earth? Or the end of reason? Do you understand how it’s all arranged? I don’t! And the old programmer’s law says: ‘If it works, don’t touch it!’ ”

  Arina didn’t answer.

  “And just why have you decided that the Twilight is an enemy?” I went on. “And that it’s in some way involved in realizing the prophecies? Don’t get your apples and oranges mixed up. Say my daughter does go and destroy the Tiger. And the Twilight with it. Magic disappears. But the prophecies remain the same as they were. They come true. Do you understand? What then? We won’t even be able to do the little bit that we can do now! Because we’ll have become ordinary human beings!”

  “I’d like to believe Gesar,” said Arina. “And you, too. But what if I’m right? What lies behind your words, Anton? Genuine anxiety for people? For peace, for our country, for your nearest and dearest? Or simply the fear of a magician living his own special, interesting, comfortable life? The fear of losing his abilities and becoming like everyone else!”

  “Permit me to remind you,” I said, unable to stop myself, “that if you lose your abilities, you’ll be transformed into a decrepit old woman. Or disintegrate completely, into dust.”

&n
bsp; “Yes,” Arina said in a quiet voice. “You’re right. But that has nothing to do with the case. I’m prepared to pay that price.”

  “Well, I’m not! And in particular I’m not prepared to decide for others. For Sveta. For Nadya. For Kesha. For all the Others who exist and will exist.”

  “But you’ll have to, won’t you, Anton?” Arina said with just a hint of a threat.

  “You think so?” I asked. “What will you do? Reveal the prophecy to humans? It doesn’t state that the Tiger will be killed. It only tells us that Nadya can kill the Tiger. Do you want to make her do it? That will be pretty hard. And not only because you’ll have to get past me and Svetlana . . . I don’t know how I’ll manage, but Sveta will twist you into a fancy pretzel. She’s a mother. Do you understand that? But you’d still have to persuade Nadya. Battles like that aren’t won through fear. And Nadya won’t destroy the Tiger. She’s very fond of furry little animals in general.”

  “Furry little animals . . .” Arina laughed bitterly. “Is that right? I’ll think of something.”

  “You can tell the prophecy to humans,” I said magnanimously. “If that’s what you want. There’s nothing inevitable in it. All you’ll achieve is to set the Tiger on your own trail.”

  “I’ll think of something,” Arina repeated stubbornly. “For instance . . . wait, where are you going?”

  “What do you mean, where?” I asked. “To work. I turn through the gates right here.”

  There was a pop behind me—and Arina disappeared. The Night Watch office is shielded by so many magical barriers that Arina could have been left stuck outside the gates forever—despite all her great wisdom and the power of the Minoan Sphere.

  I parked in my own space, with a gloating laugh, only to discover three of our guys getting into our SUV field vehicle—Semyon, Las, and Alisher! A strange kind of team! I clambered out of the car and waved to them.

  “Where are you off to?”