The Nightwatch

by Sergei Lukyanenko

  "I'm bored already," Ignat drawled thoughtfully. "Aren't you bored? I want to go back to work."

  "I think I do too. Ignat, have you got a hobby? Outside of work?"

  "What are you interrogating me for?" he asked in surprise.

  "I'm curious. Or is it a secret?"

  "What secrets do we have?" Ignat asked with a shrug. "I collect butterflies. I've got one of the best collections in the world, It fills two entire rooms."

  "Very laudable," I agreed.

  "Come around sometime and take a look," Ignat suggested. "Bring Sveta; she tells me she likes butterflies too."

  I laughed so long even Ignat got the point. He got up, smiling uncertainly, and muttered:

  "I think I'll go help get breakfast ready."

  "Good luck," was all I said. But I just couldn't help myself, and when our handsome Casanova reached the door, I called to him, "Listen, is the boss right to be worried about Svetka?"

  Ignat propped his chin on his hand, striking a dashing pose, and thought for a moment.

  "You know, I think he is. She's all tensed up somehow, just can't let go and relax. And she's got big things ahead of her, not like you and me."

  "You tried your best, did you?"

  "What kind of question's that!" said Ignat, offended. "Come around, honest, I'd be glad to see you!"

  The gin had turned warm, the ice in the glass had melted. There was a slight trace of lipstick left on the plastic. I shook my head and put the glass down.

  Gesar, you can't foresee everything.

  But to fight you, not in a duel of magic—that would be just plain ridiculous—to fight you in the only arena where I have a chance, in words and actions, I have to know what you want. I have to know how the cards lie in the pack. And what you're holding in your hand.

  Who were the players?

  Gesar, the originator and organizer. Olga, his lover and consultant, a sorceress who had been punished for some crime. Svetlana, who had to complete the project and was being prepared with great care. Me—one of the instruments of her education. Ignat, Tiger Cub, Semyon, and all the other Light Ones could be left out of my calculations. They were instruments too, but only secondary ones. And I couldn't count on them for support.

  The Dark Ones?

  Naturally, they were involved, but not in any obvious way. Zabulon and his henchmen were concerned about Svetlana's appearance in our camp. They couldn't do anything openly right now. But they could try to sabotage things on the sly or prepare a crushing blow that would bring the Watches to the brink of war.

  What else?

  The Inquisition?

  I drummed my fingers on the armrest of the lounger.

  The Inquisition. The structure that stood above the Watches. It reviewed disputes and punished those who had violated the Treaty—from either side. It was vigilant. It collected data on every one of us. But it intervened only in extremely rare cases, and its strength lay more in secrecy than in fighting power. When the Inquisition considered a case involving a powerful magician, it drafted fighters from the Watches.

  But the Inquisition was involved somehow. I knew the boss. He squeezed the last drop out of every opportunity. And the recent business with Maxim, the maverick Other, the Light One who had gone to work in the Inquisition, was a good example. The boss had exploited the affair to train Svetlana and teach her the lessons of self-control and intrigue, but at the same time he'd discovered a new Inquisitor.

  I wished I knew what they were preparing Svetlana for!

  So far I was groping in the dark. And the worst thing of all was that the gap between me and Sveta was getting wider and wider. I put on the headphones and closed my eyes.

  Tonight the fern will unfold its miraculous flower,

  Tonight the spirits will come back home,

  Clouds from the north, wind from the west,

  Soon the enchantress will wave her hand to me.

  I live waiting for a miracle, like a Mauser in its holster,

  Like a spider in its web,

  Like a tree in the desert,

  Like a black fox in its hole.

  I was taking a risk. I was taking a great risk. Great Magicians became great by trampling over their own kind, but even they didn't dare go against their own. Isolated individuals didn't survive.

  I was running through the telescopes, away from the frightened eyes of children,

  I wanted to sleep with a mermaid, but I didn't know how to act with her,

  I wanted to turn into a streetcar and drive into your window.

  The wind blows from the borderlands, we don't care anymore,

  The wind blows from the borderlands, we don't care anymore.

  Be my shadow, my squeaking stair, my bright-colored Sunday, my sunshine with rain,

  Be my god, my birch-tree juice my electric current, my bent rifle.

  I can bear witness that you are the wind, you blow in my face and I laugh,

  I do not wish to leave you without a battle, since you dream of me.

  Be my shadow…

  I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  "Good morning, Sveta," I said and opened my eyes.

  She was wearing shorts and a swimsuit. Her hair was wet and neatly arranged. She must have taken a shower. While I, being a filthy swine, hadn't even thought of taking one.

  "How are you after yesterday?" she asked me.

  "Okay. And you?"

  "All right," she said and turned away.

  I waited. With Spleen playing in my earphones.

  "What were you expecting from me?" Sveta asked sharply. "I'm a normal, healthy young woman. I haven't had a man since last winter. I realize you've got it into your head that Gesar threw us together, like coupling horses, so you're just being stubborn."

  "I wasn't expecting anything."

  "Then I'm sorry you got a surprise!"

  "Did you sense my trail in the room? When you woke up?"

  "Yes." Svetlana pulled a pack of cigarettes out of her pocket with a struggle and lit one. "I'm tired. Maybe I am still only learning, and not working yet, but I'm tired. And I came here to relax."

  "You were the one who started talking about everyone faking a good time…"

  "And you were only too happy to back me up!"

  "True," I agreed.

  "And then you went off to guzzle vodka and organize conspiracies."

  "What conspiracies?"

  "Against Gesar. And against me, by the way. How absurd! Even I sensed it! Don't get the idea you're some great magician who can…"

  She stopped short. But too late.

  "I'm not a great magician," I said. "I'm third grade. Maybe second, but no higher than that. We all have limits of our own that we can't go beyond, not even if we live for a thousand years."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend you," Svetlana said, embarrassed. She lowered the hand holding the cigarette.

  "Forget it. I'm not offended. Do you know why the Dark Ones form families of their own so often, and we prefer to choose our wives and husbands from among ordinary people? The Dark Ones find it easier to bear inequality and constant competition."

  "A human being and an Other—that's even more unequal."

  "That doesn't count. We're two different species. That means nothing counts."

  "I want you to know," said Svetlana, taking a deep drag on her cigarette, "that I wasn't intending to let things go so far. I was waiting for you to come down and see us and get jealous."

  "I'm sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to get jealous," I said repentantly.

  "And then everything just got crazy and I got carried away."

  "I understand everything, Sveta. It's okay."

  She looked at me in confusion.

  "Okay?"

  "Of course, it happens to everyone. The Watch is one big, tight-knit family. With all the consequences that follow from that."

  "What a bastard you are," Svetlana exclaimed. "Anton, if only you could see yourself now from the outside! How did you ever en
d up on our side?"

  "Sveta, you came to make up, didn't you?" I asked in surprise. "So I'm making up. It's all okay. Nothing counts. That's life; all sorts of things happen."

  She jumped up and glared icily at me for a second. I started blinking rapidly.

  "You idiot," Svetlana blurted out and went back into the house.

  So what had I been expecting? Hurt feelings, accusations, sadness?

  But more important, what had Gesar been expecting? What would change if I stopped playing the role of Sveta's ill-starred lover? Would someone else take on the role? Or was it already time for her to be left alone—all alone with her great destiny?

  The goal. I had to know what Gesar's goal was.

  I sprang up off the beach chair and walked into the house. I immediately spotted Olga, alone in the living room. Standing in front of the open display case, holding a sword with a long, narrow blade out in front of her. She wasn't looking at it the way you look at an antique toy. Tiger Cub probably looked at her swords in the same kind of way. But her love of old weapons was abstract and Olga's wasn't.

  When Gesar came to live and work in Russia—because of her, by the way—swords like that might still have been in use.

  But eighty years ago, when Olga had been deprived of all her rights, wars were already fought differently.

  A former Great Sorceress. A former Great Goal. Eighty years.

  "It's all so well planned, isn't it?" I said.

  Olga started and swung round.

  "We can't defeat the Darkness ourselves. The little people have to be enlightened first. Become kind and loving, industrious and intelligent. So that every Other can see nothing but the Light. What a great goal it was; how long the ripples lasted when it was drowned in blood."

  "You figured it out after all," said Olga. "Or did you just guess?"

  "I guessed."

  "Good. Now what?"

  "How did you slip up, Olga?"

  "I accepted a compromise. A little compromise with the Darkness. And because of that we lost."

  "We did? We'll always survive. Adapt, fit in, find our place. And we'll continue the old struggle. It's only people who lose."

  "Retreats are inevitable sometimes," said Olga, gripping the double-handed sword easily in one hand and swinging it above her head. "Do I look like a helicopter with its engines idling?"

  "You look like a woman waving a sword around. Do we really never learn anything, Olga?"

  "Sure we do. This time everything's going to be different, Anton."

  "A new revolution?"

  "We didn't want the last one. It was all supposed to happen almost completely without bloodshed. You understand: We can win only through ordinary people. When they become enlightened, when their spirit is uplifted. Communism was a wonderfully well-calculated system, and it's all my fault that it wasn't realized."

  "Oho! Why aren't you in the Twilight already, if it's all your fault?"

  "Because everything had been agreed. Every step of the way approved. Even that ill-fated compromise, even that seemed acceptable."

  "And now—a new attempt to change people?"

  "One more in the series."

  "Why here?" I asked. "Why in Russia again?"

  "Why not?"

  "How much more of this does our country have to put up with?"

  "As much as it takes."

  "Come on—why here again?"

  Olga sighed, deftly slipped the sword back into its scabbard, and put it back on its stand.

  "Because, my dear boy, in this arena it's still possible to achieve something. The potential of Europe and North America has already been exhausted. Everything that was possible has already been tried there. There are a few things being developed right now. But all those countries are already half asleep. A healthy retiree in shorts with a digital camera—that's the prosperous countries of the West. We need to experiment with the young ones. Russia, Asia, the Arab world—these are where the battles of the present day are fought. And don't look so offended, I love my country as much as you do! I've spilled more blood for it than you have flowing in your veins. What you've got to understand, Antoshka, is that the battlefield is the entire world. You know that just as well as I do."

  "Our war's with the Darkness, not with human beings!"

  "Yes, with the Darkness. But we can only win by creating an ideal society. A world that will be ruled by goodness, love, and justice. The Watches don't exist to capture psychopathic magicians on the streets and issue licenses to vampires! All those little things take up time and energy, but they're by-products, like the heat from an electric light bulb. Light bulbs are meant to produce light, not heat. We have to change the human world, not just neutralize Darkness's minor outbursts. That's the goal. That's the path to victory!"

  "Olga, I understand that."

  "Wonderful. Then you have to understand something that's never said in so many words. We've been fighting for thousands of years. And all that time we've been trying to change the course of history. To create a new world."

  "A brave new world."

  "Don't be so cynical. We have achieved something, after all. Through all the blood and suffering the world is becoming a more humane place. But we need a real, genuine revolution."

  "Communism was our idea, then?"

  "No, not ours, but we supported it. It seemed quite attractive."

  "So now what?"

  "You'll see." Olga smiled. A friendly, sincere smile. "Anton, everything will be fine. Trust me."

  "I need to know."

  "No. That's exactly what you don't need. And you don't need to worry, we're not planning any revolutions. No prison camps, execution squads, or military tribunals. We're not going to repeat our old mistakes."

  "We're going to make new ones instead."

  "Anton!" she said, raising her voice. "Think about it, will you; what are you doing? We have a really good chance of winning. Our country has a chance of living in peace and flourishing. It could become the vanguard of humanity. Defeat the Darkness. It's been twelve years in the making, Anton. And it's not just Gesar's project; the whole top level's been working on it."

  "What?"

  "Yes. Did you think it was all being done off the cuff?"

  "You were keeping tabs on Svetlana for twelve years?"

  "Of course not! A new social model has been developed. Various elements of the plan have already been put into action. Not even I know all the details. Since then Gesar's been waiting for the key players in the plan to come together in space and time."

  "Who exactly? Svetlana and the Inquisitor?"

  The pupils of her eyes contracted, and I knew I'd guessed it. Or part of it.

  "And what else. What part am I supposed to play in all this?"

  "You'll find out when the time comes."

  "Olga, so far magical intervention in human life has never led to anything good."

  "Don't give me those old childhood maxims," she said, getting really worked up now. "Don't think you're any wiser than anyone else. We've no intention of using magic. Calm down and relax."

  I nodded.

  "Okay. You've explained your position. I don't agree with it."

  "Officially?"

  "No. In a private capacity. And as a private individual I believe I have the right of opposition."

  "Opposition? To Gesar?" Olga's eyes opened wide, and the corners of her lips curved up in a smile. "Anton!"

  I turned on my heel and went out.

  Yes, it was laughable.

  Yes, it was absurd.

  It wasn't just a crazy project dreamed up by Gesar and Olga. It wasn't just an attempt to repeat a failed experiment. It was a meticulously prepared operation, planned over a long period of time, and it had been my bad luck to get caught up in it.

  An operation approved at the highest level.

  Approved by the Light.

  Why was I getting so involved? I had no right to be. None at all. And I had no chance either. Absolutely none. I could console
myself with the wise parable about the grain of sand that stopped the clock, but right now I was a grain of sand caught between mill wheels.

  And the saddest thing of all was that these were friendly and caring mill wheels. Nobody would persecute me. Nobody would fight against me. They'd simply stop me doing all those stupid things that wouldn't do any good in any case.

  Then why did I feel this pain, this unendurable pain in my chest?

  I was standing on the terrace, clenching my fists in impotent fury, when I felt a hand on my shoulder.

  "Looks like you've managed to figure something out, Anton?"

  I glanced at Semyon and nodded.

  "Hard to take?"

  "Yes," I admitted.

  "Then just remember one thing, please. You're not just a grain of sand. Nobody's just a grain of sand. Especially if he's an Other."

  "How long do you have to live to be able to guess what someone else is thinking like that?"

  "A hundred years, Anton."

  "So Gesar can read any of us like an open book?"

  "Of course."

  "Then I'll have to learn how not to think," I said.

  "For that you have to learn how to think first. Did you know there's been a ruckus in town?"

  "When?"

  "A quarter of an hour ago. It's all over already."

  "And what happened?"

  "A courier arrived to see the boss, from somewhere in the East. The Dark Ones tracked him and tried to eliminate him. Right there in front of the boss." Semyon laughed.

  "That means war!"

  "No, they were within their rights. The courier entered the city illegally."

  I looked around. Nobody was in any hurry to go anywhere. They weren't starting up their cars or packing their things. Ignat and Ilya were heating up the barbecue again.

  "Shouldn't we be getting back?"

  "No. The boss handled things his own way. There was a small fight, without any casualties. The courier's been made a member of our Watch, and the Dark Ones had to leave empty-handed. The restaurant suffered a bit, that's all."

  "What restaurant?"

  "The restaurant where the boss met the courier," Semyon explained patiently. "We've been told we can continue with our vacation."

  I looked up at the blindingly blue sky, swelling with the heat.

  "You know, somehow I'm not in the mood for a vacation. I think I'll go back to Moscow. I don't suppose anyone will mind too much?"