"Gesar, my mentor, thank you for everything that you have taught me," I said with a bow, and the parachutists cast curious glances in my direction. "I believe I no longer have the right to expect your help. Please accept my gratitude."
"You are free of all obligations to me," Gesar replied calmly. "Act as your destiny requires of you."
That was all. He cast off his former pupil as simply as that. I wondered how many pupils he'd had who failed to acknowledge his supreme goals and sacred ideals?
Hundreds, thousands.
"Goodbye, Gesar," I said. I glanced at Alisher. "I wish you luck, new watchman."
The young man looked at me reproachfully:
"If I may be allowed to say something…"
"Say it," I told him.
"In your place, I would not be in any hurry, Light One Anton."
"I've already lost too much time, Light One Alisher," I said with a smile. I was used to thinking of myself as one of the most junior magicians in the Watch, but everything passes. And for this novice I was an authority. For the time being at least. "One day you will hear the sound of time rustling as it slips through your fingers like sand. Remember me then. I wish you luck."
Chapter 6
Heat.
I was walking along Old Arbat Street—artists sketching cartoon portraits, musicians playing clichéd music, street traders all selling the same souvenirs, foreigners with the standard look of interest in their eyes, Muscovites in their usual irritated mood running past the stalls of sham craftwork.
Should I shake you all up a bit?
Should I put on a little show for you?
Juggle a few bolts of lightning? Swallow genuine fire? Make the paving stones open up to reveal a fountain of mineral water? Heal a dozen crippled beggars? Feed the homeless urchins darting around with cakes conjured up out of thin air?
What point would there be?
They'd toss me a handful of small change for the fireballs that should be used to kill creatures of evil. The mineral water fountain would turn out to be a broken water main. These crippled beggars are already healthier and richer than most of the people walking by. And the homeless urchins would run for it, because they learned a long time ago that there's no such thing as free cakes.
Yes, I could understand Gesar, I could understand all the higher magicians who'd been fighting against the Darkness for thousands of years. You can't live forever with a feeling of powerlessness. You can't keep sitting in the trenches forever: That kills the army more surely than the enemy's bullets.
But how did I come into it?
Did the banner of victory really have to be sewn out of the fabric of my love?
And how did these humans come into it?
Turning the world upside down and then turning it back again was easy enough, but who'd stop all the people from falling off?
Were we really incapable of learning anything?
I knew what Gesar was planning to do, or rather, what Svetlana was going to do on his instructions. I knew how it might turn out, and I could even imagine which loopholes in the Treaty would be used to justify interference with the Book of Destiny. I had information about when the act would be performed. The only thing I didn't know was the place of the operation and whose destiny was to be changed.
And that was a fatal gap in my knowledge.
Almost fatal enough to make me pay Zabulon a visit.
But then I'd be dispatched into the Twilight.
I was halfway along the Old Arbat when I sensed a surge of Power—very faint, at the very limits of my sensitivity. There was magical activity taking place somewhere very close, not very strong, but even so…
The Darkness!
Whatever I might think about Gesar, no matter how much I disagreed with him, I was still a soldier of the Night Watch.
I reached into my pocket for my amulet, summoned my shadow, and stepped into the Twilight.
Oh, how neglected everything was!
It was a long time since I'd walked round the center of Moscow in the Twilight.
Everything was covered with a thick carpet of blue moss. The slow oscillations of the short threads created an illusion of trembling water. Circles ran out from where I was standing as the moss simultaneously drank in my emotions and tried to creep away from me. But I wasn't interested in the Twilight's petty pranks right now.
I was not alone in the gray space under that sunless sky.
I looked for a second at the girl standing with her back to me, and I could feel a wicked smile spreading across my face. A smile unworthy of a Light Magician. Some "moderate intervention" this was!
A third-level magical intervention?
Oho!
That's very serious, my girl. So serious, you must be absolutely crazy. Third level's way beyond your powers; you must be using someone else's amulet.
But I'll use my own powers to investigate.
I walked up to her and she didn't even hear my steps on the soft blue carpet. The vague, shadowy forms of humans were sliding past us, and she was too absorbed in what she was doing.
"Anton Gorodetsky, Night Watch," I said. "Alisa Donnikova, you're under arrest."
The young witch screeched and swung round. She was holding an amulet in her hand, a crystal prism through which she had been viewing the people walking by. Her first instinctive gesture was to try to hide the amulet; then she tried to look at me through the prism.
I grabbed her arm and forced her to stop. We stood close to each other for a second as I slowly increased the pressure, twisting the witch's wrist. A scene like that between a man and a woman would have looked shameful. But for us Others, physical strength doesn't depend on our sex, or even on how well-developed our muscles are. Strength lies all around us—in the Twilight, in people. I couldn't tell how much Alisa might have extracted from the world around her. It could even be more than I had.
But I'd caught her at the scene of the crime. And there could be other Watch members nearby. Resisting a member of the other Watch who had officially declared you under arrest was cause for immediate elimination on the spot.
"I'm not resisting," said Alisa, and she opened her fingers. The prism fell into the soft moss, and it swirled and seethed, enveloping the crystal amulet.
"The prism of power?" I asked rhetorically. "Alisa Donnikova, you have performed a magical intervention of the third level."
"Fourth," she replied quickly.
I shrugged.
"Third or fourth, that's of no real importance. It still means the Tribunal, Alisa. You're in big trouble."
"I didn't do anything." The witch was trying hard to look calm. "I have personal permission to carry the prism. I didn't make use of it."
"Alisa, any higher magician can extract all the information from this thing."
I reached down toward the ground, forcing the blue moss to part and the prism to jump up into my hand. It was cold, very cold.
"Even I can read the history from it," I said. "Alisa Donnikova, Other, Dark Witch of the Day Patrol, fourth level of power, I hereby formally accuse you of violating the Treaty. If you offer resistance I shall be obliged to eliminate you. Put your hands behind your back."
She obeyed. And then she started talking, quickly and urgently, trying desperately to persuade me:
"Anton, wait, please, listen to me. Yes, I did try out the prism, but you must understand, it's the first time I've ever been trusted with such a powerful amulet! Anton, I'm not so stupid as to attack people in the center of Moscow, and why would I want to? Anton, we're both Others! Can't we settle this amicably? Anton!"
"Amicably?" I said, putting the prism in my pocket. "Come on, let's go."
"Anton, a fourth-level intervention, or third-level! Any third-level intervention carried out in the interests of the Light! Not like my stupid game with the prism, a genuine intervention!"
I could understand why she was panicking. This business could easily end in dematerialization. A Day Watch agent sucking the life out of people
for her own personal ends—that would be a tremendous scandal! They'd hand Alisa over without the slightest hesitation.
"You have no authority to make such compromises. The leader of the Dark Ones will not ratify your promise."
"Zabulon will confirm it!"
"Will he?" I was staggered by the certainty in her voice. She was probably Zabulon's lover. But even so, it was surprising. "Alisa, I once made an amicable agreement with you."
"Yes, and I was the one who suggested overlooking your intervention."
"And do you remember how it all turned out?" I asked with a smile.
"This is a different situation; I'm the one who's broken the law," said Alisa, lowering her eyes. "You'll have the right to strike back. You don't need permission for third-level Light magic, do you? Or for any Light magic? You could remoralize twenty blackhearted scoundrels and turn them into righteous men. Incinerate ten murderers on the spot! Prevent a catastrophe, create a localized time warp! Anton, isn't that worth overlooking my stupid trick? Look around, everyone here's still alive! I hadn't done anything yet. I'd only just started…"
"Everything you say can be used against you."
"Yes, I know, I know!"
There were tears glittering in her eyes. Probably quite genuine ones too. Beneath her nature as a witch she was still a perfectly ordinary girl. A pretty girl frightened by the mistake she'd made. And was it her fault that she'd ended up on the side of the Darkness?
I felt my emotional shield starting to buckle and shook my head:
"Don't try to put pressure on me!"
"Anton, please, let's settle this business amicably. Wouldn't you like the right to a third-level intervention?"
Oho, wouldn't I just? It was every Light Magician's dream to be given carte blanche like that! Just for a moment to feel that he was fighting like a genuine soldier and not sitting in the trenches, being eaten by lice and gazing dejectedly at the white flag of truce.
"You have no right to make such proposals," I said firmly.
"I shall have!" Alisa shook her head and took a deep breath. "Zabulon!"
I waited, clutching the little combat disc in my hand.
"Zabulon, I summon you!" Her voice had become a high-pitched screech. I noticed the human shadows around us beginning to move a little faster: A vague, inexplicable feeling of alarm was making the people lengthen their strides.
Would her summons reach the head of the Dark Ones again?
Like that time at the Maharajah restaurant, when Zabulon had almost killed me with Shahab's Lash?
But he hadn't killed me. He'd missed.
Even though the whole operation had been planned by Gesar, and Zabulon really seemed to believe that I was guilty of killing Dark Ones.
Did that mean he'd already had other plans in mind for me?
Or had Gesar intervened, secretly and unobtrusively, diverted the streaks of lightning away from me?
I didn't know. As always, I didn't have enough information for analysis. I could have come up with thirty-three different explanations, all contradicting each other.
I was almost hoping Zabulon wouldn't respond. Then I'd be able to pull Alisa out of the Twilight, call in the boss or one of the operatives, hand the fool over to them, and receive a bonus at the end of the month. But what did I care about bonuses right now?
"Zabulon!" There was genuine supplication in her voice. "Zabulon!"
She was crying now, without even realizing it. The mascara had run under her eyes.
"Don't waste your time," I said. "Let's go."
Just at that moment a Dark Portal opened only two meters away from us.
First there was a blast of cold that chilled me to the bone, and I started thinking fondly about the heat in the human world. The moss burst into flames and burned all the way down the street. Naturally, Zabulon hadn't set it on fire deliberately; it was just that the opening of the portal had spilled so much Power that the moss couldn't assimilate it all.
"Zabulon," whispered Alisa.
From out of the paving stones about five meters away a ray of violet light shot up into the sky. The flash blinded me and I automatically squeezed my eyes shut. When I looked in that direction again, there was a bluish-black bubble hanging in the gray mist, with something looking vaguely like a man clambering out of it, bristling with spiny scales. Zabulon had responded to the summons by traveling through the second or third level of the Twilight. The time we were moving in would have seemed as slow there as human time did to us.
I suddenly had the old feeling of powerlessness that I thought I'd come to terms with a long time ago. The abilities that Zabulon or Gesar used so casually were so far beyond me that I simply couldn't comprehend them.
"Zabulon!" Still holding her hands behind her back, Alisa dashed toward the monstrous creature and pressed herself against it, burying her face in the bristly scales. "Help me, help me!"
Of course, Zabulon hadn't appeared in demonic form just to make an impression on me. In human form he wouldn't have survived a minute in the deep layers of the Twilight. And he'd probably have to travel for hours, if not days.
The monster cast a baleful glance at me from its narrow slits of eyes. A long, forked tongue slithered out of its mouth and slid across Alisa's head, leaving a trail of white slime on her hair. A scaly hand with long claws took hold of Alisa by the chin and gently lifted up her head. Their eyes met. The exchange of information was brief.
"Little fool!" the demon roared. The tongue withdrew into the mouth and the jaws clacked shut, just missing it. "Greedy little fool!"
Well. So much for my right to a third-level intervention.
The demon's short tail lashed Alisa across the legs, tearing the silk dress and knocking her to the ground. The monster's eyes flashed; the witch was enveloped in a blue glow and she froze.
So much for the help Alisa had wanted.
"May I take my prisoner away, Zabulon?" I asked.
The monster stood there, swaying on its crooked paws, with the claws on its toes sliding in and out. Then he took a step and stood between me and the motionless young woman.
"I ask you to confirm the legality of the arrest," I said. "Otherwise I shall be obliged to summon help."
The demon began transforming. The proportions of its body changed and its scales disappeared, its tail was drawn back into its body, and its penis stopped looking like a club studded with nails. Finally clothes appeared on Zabulon's body.
"Wait a moment, Anton."
"What should I wait for?"
The Dark Magician's face remained inscrutable. Presumably in his demonic form he felt far more emotions, or at least he didn't feel any need to conceal them.
"I confirm the pledge made by Alisa."
"What?"
"If this matter is not made official, the Day Watch will accept any magical intervention you make, up to and including the third level."
He seemed to be absolutely serious.
I gulped. A promise like that from the head of the Day Watch…
Never trust the Dark Ones.
"Any intervention up to and including the second level."
"Are you that eager to avoid a scandal?" I asked. "Or do you need her for something?"
A tremor ran across Zabulon's face.
"I need her. I love her."
"I don't believe you."
"As the head of the Moscow Day Watch I ask you, watchman Anton, to settle this matter amicably. It is possible, since my ward Alisa Donnikova had not yet caused any significant harm to humans. As compensation for her attempt"—Zabulon laid strong emphasis on the last word—"to perform a magical intervention of the third level, the Day Watch will accept any Light intervention that you may perform up to and including the second level. I do not ask for this agreement to remain secret. I do not impose any restrictions on your actions. I confirm that for the offense she has committed Day Watch agent Alisa will be severely punished. May the Darkness bear witness to my words."
A faint trembling
. A rumbling under the ground, the roar of an approaching hurricane. A tiny black ball appeared on Zabulon's open palm, spinning rapidly.
"What do you say?" asked Zabulon.
I ran my tongue over my lips and looked at Alisa's magically frozen body. She was a real bitch, no doubt about it. And I had a personal score to settle with her.
Maybe that was why I didn't feel like settling this business with a compromise? Maybe it had nothing to do with the danger of an agreement with the Darkness? Alisa had tried to use the prism of power to extract part of the life energy from humans. That was third- or fourth-level magic. I'd be able to perform a second-level intervention, and that was a very, very big deal. A genuinely massive intervention! A city without a single crime for a whole day. A brilliant and unequivocally good intervention. How many times in the history of the Night Watch had we needed to make a third- or fourth-level intervention but didn't have the right, and we'd had to just go ahead and risk it, terrified by how the other side might respond?
And now I could have a second-level intervention for free, or as good as.
"May the Light bear witness to my words," I said, and held my hand out to Zabulon.
It was the first time I'd ever called on the primordial powers to witness anything. I only knew it didn't require any special incantations. And there was no real guarantee that the Light would deign to become involved in our affairs.
A petal of white flame flared up on my open palm.
Zabulon winced, but he didn't take his hand away. We sealed the agreement with a handshake, the Darkness and the Light coming together. I felt a stab of pain, like a blunt needle piercing my flesh.
"The agreement is sealed," said the Dark Magician.
He frowned too. He had also felt the pain.
"Do you hope to gain from this?" I asked.
"Of course. I always hope to gain. And I usually do."
At least Zabulon wasn't obviously delighted with the deal we'd made. Whatever he might be hoping for as a result of our agreement, he wasn't completely certain of success.
"I've found out what the courier brought to Moscow from the East and why."
Zabulon smiled gently.
The Nightwatch Page 41